#Wind Runner is so fucking right to not be here right now she is so so right

[bonebabbles]

Blah blah blah Thunder moons at Star Flower and she gives him a plant that looks like Blazing Star but turns out to be a mimic species. And he babbled out the One Eye Attack Plan to her. You know the betrayal is coming, it's not exactly hard to predict

She has had a grand total of like 3 scenes and in each one everyone was like, "Star Flower Sus" which Thunder ignores.

Anyway back to clear sky (derogatory)

pooor baaaaaaaby. his heart is aaaaching that the people he abused, humiliated, and lorded over tyrannically for months "can't be relied on." No reflecting on his behavior btw because the books are determined to say that he Just Made Some Honest Mistakes :(((

(ignore the fact that one eye conjured up a million instant minions that outnumbered SkyClan lol. the book sure does until it's convenient)

"Trying So Hard To Protect." I just... I can't believe that people read this arc and completely forget the previous 3 books, end up buying this brand new Clear Sky at face-value, and accept this as a "good redemption arc".

You could write one paragraph at the end of 6 books that describes a completely different plot than the one that was written and people would buy it, and praise it as The Best Arc Ever

But anyway, Clear Sky is not allowed to feel bad about the consequences of his actions for more than 2 minutes before everyone gathers together to Clap At Baby

Because GOD FORBID he be held accountable for his actions, or people feel fucking weird about the murderous dictator trying to win his army back, or anyone call him an oversensitive megalomaniac for letting in two violent rogues he was warned against after throwing a fit about "being told what to do"

But anyway he's a brand new character now, so he goes to stare at Jagged Peak's wife to "remind himself why he's doing this." As if that can cover up for the fact we've ALWAYS, SINCE SUN TRAIL, known that he is a character that thirsts for power and control over others and always would have had motive to get his authority back.

[bonefall]

.. opinions on wind runner? i feel like im one of the only ones that genuinely hates her sometimes

If you feel like the only one who genuinely hates her, I think you need to look around more. Wind Runner is a very widely disliked character, because she's often used within the story as a small antagonist who "threatens" the authority of Tall Shadow. Gray Wing dislikes her. Thunder is openly cat-racist to her. She spends several books trying to break through the moor cats' xenophobia to join a group that came to HER LAND.

Then, when Moth Flight is old enough to be a relevant character in Forest Divided, Wind Runner is turned into Yet Another mean mom the very moment Moth displays ADHD. She's contrasted to her mate Gorse Fur, who is a Soft And Good Dad, and ultimately MASSIVELY punished with the harrowing events of Moth Flight's Vision (even though, for most of that book, she's completely right.)

Ask yourself why they're especially harsh on WIND RUNNER for being mean to her child, in the arc with Tom the Fucking Wifebeater and his redemption death, plus Thunder being forced to stop being mad at his abuser Clear Sky, please.

To me, Wind Runner is an intense, ambitious woman who's demonized for it in a way that men just aren't. She's subject to several misogynistic trends within WC, plus a huge helping of xenophobia that goes absolutely unexamined. If DOTC cared at all about women, it would have treated her with the nuance she deserves.

Wind Runner is treated with nearly endless suspicion by Gray Wing through books 1 - 3, while he's bending over backwards to suck Clear Sky's toes.

Her wanting to join the group that came TO HER HOME and being a bit pushy about it earns a stronger reaction from Gray Wing than Clear Sky murdering people.

She's pressured into changing her name "to fit in," and it's still not enough. She wanted to join the group so bad she changed her name, at the request of the Mountain Cats, for a chance of being better accepted

This came after she'd already saved Jagged Peak's life when a burrow collapsed on him. She's plenty trustworthy.

She keeps doing shit to try and prove herself to this group of assholes. Remember Bumble being dragged back to her domestic abuser? Gray Wing interprets this as a power struggle, when WIND RUNNER WAS NOT EVEN PART OF THE GROUP AT THE TIME.

From Wind Runner's POV, she did something that the Moor cats wanted done. It was fucking evil. It was committing violence against another member of the out-group the cats see her as.

But who actually has the power here? Tall Shadow does.

Gray Wing said it himself that she could have come up with some excuse for Bumble to stay, and she didn't. In fact, any cat could have spoken up. No one did.

and still. STILL. Wind Runner gets nothing. Her reward is Gray Wing surmising that actually, her doing their sick dirtywork was a political move.

It's more consistent as a motivation with how Wind Runner wants to join their group. The thing she's been doing.

She only actually gets to join the group after Thunder starts publicly hurling slurs at her for suggesting they need to be ready for Clear Sky to attack them. "What do you know about peace? Last time I was here you were NOTHING BUT A ROGUE WITH A ROGUE'S NAME"

Gray Wing even starts purring when she gives birth, because her ambition goes away briefly and she "stops bossing everyone around." this is treated like a sweet thing. god forbid women retain their personalities when they have kids

She loses her first premature child to a seizure and Gray Wing starts proselytizing his religion to her. "Maybe it's a good thing your weakest child died because Jesus has them now" I want to beat him with a hammer

When her second child gets sick, Clear Sky has a bright idea that involves killing it. I refer to this as his "reverse leper colony" suggestion. He only develops a sense of humanity towards the sick when his brother's pregnant wife is in danger. Wind Runner and her kitten barely seem to clock as people to him.

It's only after her SECOND baby succumbs to a horrible, painful death that she decides the moor cats are assholes, and she goes to start her own group. It's LONG overdue. I was extremely excited to see it.

Now. Listen.

I've been treated just like Moth Flight before. I've practically heard the scolding in Book 6 Chapter 3 verbatim. I'm not downplaying anything about Wind Runner being harsh to her; being yelled at like that never fixed the problem.

What I'm saying is that this is the SAME arc that summons the hollowed-out ghost of Storm to coo that Clear Sky "never drove anyone away" with his abusive behavior and gives Tom the Wifebeater a heroic redemption death.

So why is the scolding from Wind Runner treated as unambiguously harsh? What's the difference between her and them?

Why is it that outside of this little bubble of the community, you can get buried in a flood of people crying about how "Clear Sky made Summisteaks Butt he thought it was the right thing :((( He feels bad about shoving Thunder's face in a weeping, pus-filled wound and trying to kill him :((((" but Wind Runner is mean about Moth Flight not catching a rabbit and she should be skinned alive

Why is WIND RUNNER held responsible for the death of Clear Sky's child in Moth Flight's Vision, WHEN IT WAS COMPLETELY HIS OWN FAULT??

So, why should I hate her? Because she's mean to the idiot protagonists? Because she's Yet Another Bad Mom whose actions ARE treated as Bad in the story, in the arc famous for openly weeping whenever someone's mad at their abusive dad?? When she has this whole horrific, unexamined story about how incredibly bigoted The Settlers are towards her and the extremes she goes to in order to please them?

I'm glad she's mean, actually. She should have been even meaner. I think she should have a gun

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

for the cullens, who would you say is the most to least set in their ways?

That's hard, anon, because... well, they're the Cullens.

But alright, let's make this controversial list.

Rosalie

Edward and Rosalie compete for the top spots here but I think Rosalie has to win because we don't see her change significantly in canon. Because of Bella and his falling in love with her, Edward changes both his outlook on life and significant personal beliefs (vampires having souls).

Now, it's hard going to get there, and he doesn't really change as a person, but he does confront himself and does grow in the series.

Rosalie, however, firmly believes that being human is the only option no matter what, even when faced with Bella who shows someone who firmly wants to become a vampire, doesn't want children (at first), and is quite happy upon becoming a vampire.

Rosalie has her set beliefs and she really really really doesn't want to change even when presented alternatives. She also doesn't want to admit that hey, what may be the right thing for Rosalie may not be the right thing for Bella and things that matter to Rosalie may not matter to Bella.

Rosalie is incredibly stubborn and not just set in her ways but determined to be set in them.

Edward

Runner up is Edward.

Edward has certain views of himself, the world, Bella, his father, just about everyone that he will not change no matter the evidence he is presented with. He also is incredibly stubborn and when he decides on a course of action, fuck you, that's what he's going to do.

The entire series takes place because Edward is absolutely unwilling, in all circumstances no matter how dire, to ever turn Bella into a vampire.

Add onto that things like Edward being bound and determined to kill himself via the Volturi the moment Bella dies (remember he plans this early in Twilight when he realizes he's in love. He knows he's not going to turn her, so he's going to wait out her human life then kill himself afterwards and he has the whole thing planned out. It was just a matter of when).

Edward also wants to be a gentleman from the 1910's, when he grew up, and says as much often. Bella wants to do modern dating? Well, Bella, Edward wants to be a gentleman (except when it gets in the way of the things he wants, then he's going to ignore that).

Edward's incredibly set in his ways.

Alice

Alice is interesting.

In some ways, she's the very definition of flexibility. Alice is a leaf on the wind, following her visions for the best future, and as a result never quite understandable. She doesn't fight her visions, isn't set on a particular course of action, and will pivot as needed to do what's best for her and her family.

Except that's the thing, that's a philosophy and way of being Alice.

This is the way Alice has been for her entire life that she can remember, following her third eye and doing what's best, manipulating those around her in a benign manner to get the best outcome even if there are risks.

In many ways, Alice really should be number one, except that it's not that stubbornness of Rosalie and Edward and you are able to negotiate with her (so long as her inner eye agrees that's for the best).

Esme

Esme's third but it's a trailing fourth.

Esme doesn't have the willful stubbornness of Edward and Rosalie, the lack of any desire to change whatsoever under any circumstances or ever change her mind about things, but she does seem very unflappable and very untouched by anything that happens around her.

Esme always unfailingly sees the best in people--even people who are an enemy army of vampires going into Bella's bedroom to steal her clothes. There are times she seems completely out to lunch with what's happening and fails to confront Edward on his alarming behavior (she confronts him but it goes sideways quickly).

It's hard to imagine Esme changing her ways significantly because she's so... Esme.

Jasper

This is a very very very trailing fifth for Jasper, he's nowhere near Rosalie and Edward's level and really not set in his ways at all. Jasper overturns his life, goes on a whacky diet after eating people for a hundred fifty years, starts going to high school.

Jasper is far from set in his ways.

But he does have trouble adjusting and getting himself out of the "I am a territorial warlord" headspace.

Jasper's always looking for threats and how to eliminate them, he doesn't think twice about killing Bella in Twilight to keep the secret even when the family's debating over whether this is something they should do. In Eclipse he's right back in his element of planning the fight with the newborn army.

He struggles the most with his thirst (though this is likely due to losing the genetic lottery and not so much personality) and as a result struggles with the Cullen lifestyle.

He tries to interact with Bella as a human and when he does it leads to disaster and then he retracts and keeps huge distance until he feels he can safely be around her.

Jasper's not set in his ways but it does seem it's hard to remove himself from the past.

Emmett

Emmett's a very easy going guy who's lighthearted and gets along with just about everyone. He's great at easing tension, doesn't take things too seriously, and is able to talk down both Rosalie and Edward throughout the series.

Now, that's a kind of unflappable personality that's not really prone to change, which puts him here on our list, but that's not what I'd really call set in his ways.

Emmett gladly adopts new technology, doesn't seem hung up on anything about his human life whatsoever, and while I don't imagine his personality changing much it really doesn't have to.

I think Emmett's a very adaptable person (as shown by his taking a vampire wife who saved him from a bear in the first place).

The only thing that's a bit strange is his bear vendetta but you do you, Emmett.

Carlisle

In some ways, Carlisle deserves the top spot on this list, as he's the most stubborn man alive. He'll happily die before giving up this diet, even if his eyes turn funny colors, he'll train himself to be a doctor, he remains a devout Christian even when a demon, and he does what he wants.

However, he's also kind of the definition of change.

This 16th century Anglican priest became a demon, then decided to make being a demon suit him, traveled the world to find people like him, then becomes a doctor and attends university because he can, and adapts to each new work environment and his ever expanding family of vampires and nonsense thrown his way.

Carlisle is anything but set in his ways for all that he's very very stubborn about his ideals.

Renesmee

We don't see much of her but Renesmee has no real ways to be set into. She lives in a bizarre glass bubble (in which a war almost happens three months after she's born), she herself is constantly changing physically every second, and it's hard to imagine her ever getting herself into a rut because like it or not things are going to happen as she gets older.

This puts her at the least set in her ways.

[orphiceonian]

˗ˏˋSILVERV WEEK: BETRAYAL´ˎ˗

read on ao3

written for @silverv-week

It was peaceful out here.

They were outside the city limits. Far enough away that the sounds of the sleepless metropolis had fallen somewhat silent but close enough that they could still see the glimmering neon that bathed the skylight in a kaleidoscope of dazzling lights.

Johnny took a long drag of his artificial cigarette, letting the synthetic smoke fill his lungs as he crackled into existence next to V.

She was leaning against the front of her quadra, eyes locked on the city scape that sprawled out before her. He could see the dark circles that had made their home under her grey eyes and the faint glimmer of the threading that marked her face.

“We gonna talk about it?” He glanced over at her and watched as she lit her own cigarette and pulled a drag.

“I’d really rather not.”

“I’m in your head, I know you do.”

“You being in my head is what started it.” V snapped, exhaling smoke into the cool nights air.

“Right so maybe I shouldn’t have looked—.”

“No you fucking shouldn’t have. Not rocket science Johnny, just basic fucking respect.” She pushed off the car and walked away from him.

Johnny sighed and flicked his cigarette away, watching as it fizzled away into nothingness shortly after leaving his fingers—yet another reminder of his false existence.

“So what if I looked back on your ‘saka days? You saw my Samurai days.” He scoffed, “No different.”

“You wanted me to see that. We agreed you wouldn’t have free reign. Trusted you and you fucking betrayed me, again.” Her voice was full of venom, his anger and hers melding together and mixing into something vicious.

Johnny frowned at her, moving to stand a bit closer to the merc. He had crossed a line and now that line was slowly turning into a rift between them. He didn’t want their relationship to sour over something as trivial as him slipping into her memories.

He took a moment, studying her face and the slight shake of her hand as she drew another drag. Something wasn’t right—her anger was warranted but he hadn’t seen her this mad in a long time.

Johnny took a breath. He wasn’t used to being the one who apologises first—hell he wasn’t used to apologising.

“Right, sorry I looked.” He muttered, looking away from her and out to the city.

“Just don’t know how many more times I can take you betraying my trust…” Her voice was small—like she was scared to speak to him, “Had too much of that recently, fuck it started this whole thing. Can trace it all back to a single fuckin moment of betrayal.” He can hear the bite to her words now, the anger seeping through them.

“Dex?”

V laughed lightly and shook her head, “Nah, Jenkins.”

Jenkins. Her old superior. Forty-something year old bureaucratic psychopath with a flare for cruelty, “That’s why you didn’t want me looking at your ‘saka days?”

“Just reminds me that I fucked up my whole damn life cause I trusted someone.” V took another drag and looked over at him, “Plus, my corpo days weren’t pretty ones. Rather save us both the misery reliving that…”

They fall into silence for a moment, listening to the sounds of the city that echo over to them, carried on the wind.

He can feel her thinking—feel the thoughts ticking over in her mind as she mulled over what she wanted to say to him.

“Jenkins pulled me out of a rough spot. Not for him I would have been a burnt out runner at fifteen.” V tapped ash off her cigarette and kept her eyes on the horizon as she spoke, “Betrayal hits harder when it comes from someone you’re indebted to.”

Johnny let her talk, knowing it was better for her to get the anger off her chest instead of letting it fester into something ugly and twisted.

“Spent the next eight years trying to make it up to him. Being ruthless, railing synthcoke on my breaks and doing his dirty work all so he wouldn’t have that leverage over me. All for him to go and fuckin’ betray me.” Her anger overflowed into her words, each syllable laced with vitriol and bitterness.

He looked over, seeing the hatred burning in her eyes and the tears bubbling up behind them.

Johnny knew how betrayal felt. First the military—then militech. A dozen more moments of deceit and betrayal had marred his short life. He knew that burning anger that came with it and he knew that feeling of second guessing every action leading up to that moment.

“Promise…” She started, voice still shaking with aftershocks of anger, “Promise you won’t look again? You can ask if you want but just…no free rein? Got some stuff I’d rather not relive.”

“Promise.”

[j2h5b5]

Testing the Limits

Summary: JJ Maybank’s little sister is doing some experimenting.

***

Oh. Oh shit.

That was Milly Maybank’s first thought upon waking.

And it wasn’t just because her head felt like a balloon filled with blood, stretched fit to burst and throbbing along with the beat of her heart.

Or because her mouth seemed to be filled with cotton, and tasted like something had rotted inside there.

Or because her stomach was roiling like the HMS Pogue in a high wind and she was pretty sure she was about to vomit all over these clean white sheets.

These clean white sheets on her hospital bed.

Yep, that’s why she woke up mentally cussing.

Because she didn’t have much memory of last night, but what flashed through her mind wasn’t good at all, and whatever had happened to land her here had to have been literally catastrophic. They couldn’t fucking afford a hospital.

There was a needle in her arm with a clear tube leading up to a bag on a pole like you see on TV, and a beeping monitor that was presumably alerting everyone in the room to the fact that she was alive?

Everyone. That would be … Without moving her head (both because to do so would risk popping the balloon that was keeping her liquefied brain in place and also because she was afraid to draw attention), Milly took mental stock. Pope, Kiara, Sarah, John B. And, of course, JJ.

Her brother was perched in a very uncomfortable-looking plastic chair at her bedside, his blond head resting on his arms, which were resting on the edge of the mattress. His eyes were closed and she bit her lip as a flashback of the night before fluttered vaguely at the back of her mind.

What did you take? Milly, answer me, what did you take?

JJ, she’s not hearing you, she needs a hospital.

I know, FUCK, I KNOW, let’s go. Move, just fucking move, I’ve got her. Come here, baby sister. Come on, Jay’s got you.

The world tilting on its axis as strong arms lifted her like she weighed nothing at all.

A bumpy ride, tires spinning gravel and mud, panicked fussing and bickering that made no sense, then bright lights, violent and harsh.

Then nothing.

Then this.

That was it for the details of the AFTER. From the BEFORE, she remembered more than she wanted to. The fight with her brother, hurling sharp words at all his soft spots. Blind anger making her cruel. Running off into the night. Running toward the very thing JJ was trying to keep her from in the first place. Triumphant at winning the battle.

She’d stayed gone for two days. Ignoring texts and calls from all of them and successfully staying off the radar until she got too brave and went to grab a late lunch at The Wreck. Sitting at a deck table off in the far corner with her back to the late-afternoon stragglers. She had almost finished wolfing down her burger when an open palm smacked the back of her head hard and a much-loved voice with an icy sharp edge commanded: “Hey brat. Call your damn brother.”

Looking up at Kie, Milly saw the older girl’s annoyance and responded with an admittedly childish “No.”

“He’s worried about you.”

“He’s a dick.”

“Yeah? He’s JJ. That’s not the point. You owe him better than this.”

And Milly knew she was right, which was why she doubled down. “I don’t want to talk to him yet. I’ll call him when I’m ready, and when he’s done treating me like a stupid kid.”

“Stop acting like one.”

Milly pushed her chair back and stood up from the table, making to leave. Kiara set down the tray she was carrying and reached for Milly. “Wait, wait. Where are you staying? At least tell me that. Are you being careful?”

Dodging Kie’s grasping hand, Milly shot her a look of honest apology—really, this whole thing had gotten out of hand but she didn’t know how to fix it now. “I’m fine. Tell him I’m fine.”

And she left fast, because Kiara was a good runner and Milly wasn’t positive she wouldn’t be chased all the way back to where her new friends were waiting.

And now.

When she finally tore her eyes away from the head of floppy blond hair next to her, she realized the others—all of them—were watching her.

Time to face the music.

***

TBC?

[cupidsarows]

Cupid's Arrows: Wind Beneath My Wings

Cast:

Blaze-Black-Love To Hate

Otto-Yellow-Familial Love

Sylvia-Purple-Shallow Love

Ike-Green-Objective Love

Pheobe-Blue--Platonic Love

Rowan-Red-Romantic Love

Mr. C-Cupid

Chapter 1

“Shit fucking damn it, no no. Nonononono”

“Cupid? Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Sylvia halted as one of her low heels stuck to the viscous liquid on the floor.

“Is… that what I think it is?”

Cupid nodded weakly from he was curled on the floor and Sylvia’s face constricted into some combination of despair or queasiness as she helped Cupid up. A large gash ran down his shoulder, soaking into the white of his coat. That was the source of the puddle. It was so much for one being, almost too much.

“Ok, here’s what we’re going to do, I’m going to go get Ike, he’d be better at this I think. You stay put- “

Cupid let out a shaking sob.

“Right, I guess you can’t really do anything else. Uhm, ok then.”

As Sylvia took off running something like adrenaline filled her and next thing she knew she burst into Ike’s room.

“Ike I need your help, do you have any medical supplies?”

Chapter 2

It was going to be ok, Ike had been able to patch up Cupids arm, it would probably heal soon. Cupid hadn’t had to tell the story for Sylvia to piece together what must have happened. She shuddered as she thought about it.

“I’m worried, what could’ve happened between Rowan and Cupid? Is it my fault? I woke him up, he chased after them…”

The rest of what Sylvia was going to say was muffled by the fabric of her lavender hoodie as she wiped her eyes on the sleeve. She knew the result was, but the question of what had really happened was eating at her.

Ike sniffed solemnly from where he was squatting against a pillar. He didn’t shift his gaze from the point in space ahead of him but his hand found Sylvia’s with a soothing calmness.

“For the record, I don’t think it’s your fault. Rowan’s always been loyal to Cupid, you couldn’t have known what would happen.”

“Ike, thank you, just, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, it’s what friends are for.”

Chapter 3

“Really? Wow, good for him.”

Blaze smirked at the horrified look Sylvia made in response to his comment.

“Not funny Blaze, please don’t tell Otto or Pheobe, they’d be destroyed, just say Rowan’s in his room ok?”

Blaze held up his hands in a show of good faith.

“I won’t tell them, but c’mon, Cupid had it coming.”

Before Sylvia could tell Blaze off for this remark a shout rang out from the doorway that they were standing outside of.

“Cupids awake! I better go!”

Blaze did a sarcastic salute as Sylvia hurriedly opened the door and tried to calmly walk inside.

She couldn’t remember ever being inside Cupids room now that she though about it. It was enormous, larger than everyone’s rooms combined. It was also made of white marble, at first Sylvia had wondered if this was simply a continuation of Cupids domain that she hadn’t been in before but he had insisted on coming here specifically.

Cupids room consisted of a seemingly endless hallway of pillars supporting a large slab of concrete that looked as though it could fall and squash Sylvia like a bug at any time. The floor underneath the slab was covered in a white fur runner carpet that eventually, after what must have been minutes, led up several staircase steps to a simple white bed with an ornate, gold frame. It was here that Sylvia and Ike had left Cupid laying though the being was now sitting on the edge restlessly.

“Finally, what took you so long?”

“Sorry,”

Sylvia tried to catch her breath but failed as there was nothing on the platform she could lean against.

“Is something wrong?”

“I have a question,”

Sylvia was ready in an instant, Cupid needed her and she wouldn’t fail him.

“Do you trust me?”

The question caught her off guard, of course it did. As long as Sylvia had existed she had devoted herself to Cupid and his cause. It stung slightly, that he thought it was even possible for her to doubt him anymore. Sylvia didn’t say any of this however;

“I promise.”

Chapter 4

The pat of a hand on her shoulder as she understood what was being said,

The pat of her low heels on the rug walking away,

The pat of Rowan’s shoes as he had run after Cupid.

Had he been scared? Or did he have only violence on his mind? Did he even think about his family and friends when he tried to attack?

I have to do something

[piedpiperslists]

JJK: Gang / Mafia AU

List of all Jungkook fics under 'Gang / Mafia' AU:

* s - contains smut

* Last updated: 11/02/2024

D R A B B L E S

“Are you wearing my shirt?” by taleasnewastime s mafia au

Crime & Punishment by bangtaninink s ft KSJ, mafia au, PWP Summary: You’re supposed to kill five people per month, as per Seokjin and Jungkook’s request. You’ve only killed two. Somebody’s in trouble.

Forreal Love by illneverrecover established relationship, gang au Summary: “We really need to stop race-walking everywhere”

Lilies by dewykth bad boy!Jungkook, drug dealer au Summary: … white lines, pretty baby, tattoos, don’t know what they mean, they’re special just for you…

Mafia Leader!Kook by jksangelic s established relationship, mafia au, PWP Summary: The love of your life comes home after months of being missing.

Protective JK by taleasnewastime established relationship, mafia au

Rain by ichorai established relationship, mafia au Summary: Running away from problems never fixed anything, did they?

Soft Mafia AU by taleasnewastime established relationship, mafia au

The Carrier by yminie gang member!Jungkook, nurse!reader Summary: A chance encounter with gang member Jungkook.

The one with Jungkook and the sharpshooter by eoieopda enemies to lovers Summary: You didn’t plan this far ahead. You should have.

O N E S H O T S

Arrow to the Heart by kidguk s wc~7.8k / gang au, neighbors au Summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t understand what the fuss is about the rival gang’s sniper. She’s a perfect marksman, they say, yet every time he has faced her he’s gotten away - quite easily too. Is he just that good? Maybe. Is the real reason, unbeknownst to him, that he also happens to be kind of (it’s complicated) dating her? One hundred percent.

Concealed Weapon by gimmesumsuga s wc~10.6k / established relationship, mafia au, PWP Summary: Jungkook turns out not to be quite who you thought he was, and your reaction takes you both by surprise.

Flame on Water by btsmosphere wc~5.2k / assassin!Jungkook, bodyguard!reader, enemies to lovers, mafia au Summary: Either you win or he does. Either you get paid or he does. Either the target winds up alive or dead. Jungkook’s job becomes a little more difficult any time you are around.

My Beauty, My Blood by 7cypher wc~20k / single mom!reader, mafia au Summary: With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

* Night Crawlers by alphabetboyluvr s wc~26k / drug runner!Jungkook, sugar baby!reader, college au Summary: Jungkook’s always been good at running. Track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. Drugs, now, too.  But he doesn’t expect to run into you.  In your shared lecture halls, sure. Maybe. But not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning.  There are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. You aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. He's sure of it.  So it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

Rubies are Red by btsmosphere wc~3k / enemies to lovers, mafia au Summary: Close enough to touch, far enough never to dare. But Jungkook knows you well enough to know something isn’t right. And that locket the new player is wearing? Isn’t his. Will this be what it takes to break the distance you keep with Jungkook?

Something Borrowed by alphabetboyluvr s wc~2.8k / angst, forbidden love, infidelity, mafia au

Sparrow by justanotherstarlightmonger s wc~6.2k / assassin!reader, escort!reader, mafia au Summary: Trained to kill, and a mistress to lust. Those were the two aspects of your life that were most prominent. No one saw the third part coming. Jeon Jungkook's sparrow.

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Waste It on Me by byeoltoyuki wc~21k / strangers to lovers, gang au Summary: Being a journalist, you were familiar with the concept of taking risks and pushing your limits to get the best story. But when a gangster by the name of Jungkook tries to involve himself in your quiet, safe personal life, you are forced to reconsider the limits of your comfort zone, your boundaries, your morals and even your feelings.

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T W O S H O T S / S E R I E S

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Stockholm Syndrome by taleasnewastime s strangers to lovers, gang au Summary: You’d tried so hard to run away from your troubled childhood. Now in your final year at university you’re starting to feel like maybe what’s in your past will stay there. Then a beautiful stranger shows up and befriends you, but not everything about him is as it seems.

[muffinhyunjin]

Park Adventure

Sakura Miyawaki

Words: 2.111 words

Tags: Pissing, Piss Play, Squirt, Bestiality, Armpit licking

8 PM, Sakura was bored after playing with her Nintendo, she played too many games for hours already.

"I think I need to take a rest, my eyes and hands are already tired from playing these games for hours."

She puts her Nintendo down on the table then sits on the stool for a while, stretches her hands and body while thinking about what she should do after playing games for hours.

"Damn, what should I do? I wanted to do something but I didn't want to play games again... Why is this so frustrating for me?" she confused while scratching her head.

She suddenly got an idea, an unusual idea for her.

"Ah, how about I go to the park but I'm going to be running naked in there? That would be so interesting. I need to get ready." She chuckles.

She prepares everything. Her phone, earphones, and bottle. She only wears a sports bra and running shorts and doesn't use panties to make it easier for her later.

She runs from her apartment to the nearest park on a cold and peaceful night. Only slight traffic, some cricket, and stars in the sky accompany Sakura's run to the park.

===================================

She arrived at the park, peeked to the left and right to make sure that nobody was passing by her, and started to detach her sports bra and pull down her shorts immediately, leaving them on the bench. The cold wind immediately hits her bone after she undoes her outfit.

"Let's get started and do this thing. It's going to be fun and a new experience for me. This cold wind won't make me sick. I'm strong."

She runs for a round on the jogging track, meeting another runner in the park, the runner is shocked by what Sakura is doing. But she continues to run and continues the challenge. Her tits are bouncing so much and everybody is seeing her, but she doesn't care at all because she likes it so much, and she gets turned on by what after just gone on to her. She likes it when everyone sees her tits bouncing while she is running.

She stops for a while, takes a seat, and regulates her breath to relax.

"Fuck, I'm so exhausted but that is so hot. Everyone is glimpsing at my pussy and tits. I guess they liked my pink shaved pussy and bouncing tits. Probably they wanted to rape the fuck out of my body. Even if they did it, I won't fight them either. Let them use my body, using all of my holes, treating me like a fuckdoll. I wanted to be fucked and ruined in public. I don't care about what people say. I am a cockslut for my friends either, so what?"

"This kind of thing turns me on so much, I think I need to fuck myself now, but I need to pee first. But where should I pee? Do I need to record while I'm taking a piss? Maybe I need to try it ~" she giggles and smiles in a devilish way.

She looked to the left and right, and she couldn't locate any public restroom to pee.

"Damn it, there isn't any restroom here, where should I pee though? On the grass? On the side of the lake?" she confused while straightening her hair.

"Well, what can I do? Whether I like it or not, I have to do it here hehehe ~" she chuckles, then she blushes and her face turns red.

She unlocked her phone, opened the camera, and put her phone in landscape mode. She started recording herself and making sure that the video was good and that she could see herself on the video. The red flashes started to blip, and then she started to squat behind the bench, making sure that nobody would see her peeing carelessly in the park. a little yellow drip started to come out from her pussy, and a yellow stream started to come out, fresh and warm from her bladder.

She spreads out her pussy, and plays with her yellow stream, aiming in an uncertain direction, going to the left and right. After that, she puts her hand on the flowing piss, making her hand wet and smells like urine.

"Gosh, It feels so good peeing here hehe, I'm so naughty here. I hope that I won't get caught ~"

The flowing yellow stream comes to an end, she cleans her pussy with water from the bottle that she brought before. She stops the video recording and looks at the video that she recorded before. She's satisfied with what she accomplished.

"God... I am so hot in the video... Do I need to save it for myself or post it on the internet? I guess I should ~"

She opens her social media and posts it online. She sends the video to some of her friends too. She got some naughty replies which caused her horniness to increase. She's desirous to fuck herself in the park.

"Fuckk I need to touch myself right now, I can't hold it anymore, I am so needy to be fucked..."

She spreads her pussy wide and rubs her clit slowly but surely. Then she puts her fingers inside her wet pussy to pleasure herself. Sakura moans loudly and whimpers until she reaches her G-Spot.

"Oh fuck... Ahhh this is so fucking good, so good aghhh ~"

Sakura fucks herself harder and harder while rubbing her pink nipples and moans. She was filled with lust. She couldn't stop moaning.

"Yes, please... harder please ahh, make me cum make me cum, harder please, make me cum, don't stop ~"

She pleasures herself until her pussy is wet and swollen. Sakura orgasms and squirts everywhere. Sakura created a pure mess, her wet fingers, wet pussy, and puddles on the ground. She's huffing. Sakura sweats a lot from what she is doing. After that, she takes and tastes her fresh, and warm juice from her pussy.

"Mmm... It tasted so good... I guess I am going to be addicted to this, I cannot believe that I tasted so good"

Sakura takes more of her juice from her pussy using her fingers and licks it clean. She takes extra of her liquids until nothing is left.

Now that her pussy is clean already, Sakura wakes up and continues to run again for another kilometer, until she meets a stray dog.

"Oh hello little cutie, what are you doing here? Are you lost? Where is your owner?"

She pats the dog and plays with the dog for some time. Then, the dog begins to behave oddly. Sakura couldn't figure out what the dog wanted.

"Oh, what you want from me little cutie? I don't know what you want"

The dog acted strange, it acted like it wanted to fuck Sakura. The dog is jumping and humping Sakura's leg.

"Hey, what are you doing? You're going to fuck me? That is what you want? Well, if you wanted to, I can pleasure you, little cutie ~"

She lowers herself and plays with the dog first. Sakura rubbed the dog's belly and saw the dog was fully erecting. At first, Sakura hesitates to do what she is going to do, she thinks twice. But with the full intention of the new experience, she motivates herself. She makes the dog lie down, started to lick the dog's dick, and sucking it slowly. Sakura played with the dog's cock playfully and without hesitation from herself. Thankfully the park is quiet already, the park visitors are coming back to their own home already.

"You liked it, little cutie? You liked it when I licked and sucked your tiny, small, and smelly cock? huh? hehehe, I guess you liked it ~"

Sakura giggled and started to laugh because she just could not believe what she was doing. She can't believe that she is delighting an animal, not a human. The dog can only bark and cannot answer Sakura's thoughts.

"My God... I can't believe I did this, licking an animal cock and pleasuring it. Now what am I now? A zoophile?"

"But somehow this experience is so good, I've never done this kind of heated thing before, I usually simply fulfill my friend's lustful desire with my cheap pussy and asshole. They fuck me relentlessly all night just to fulfill their lust. Using me no more than a fuckdoll, only a free-use meat, and I need to serve my holes whenever they want. And now I am going to be fucked by an animal. A dam dog. What a cheap slut I am, not looking at any creatures, just a pleaser for everyone, and wanted to be fucked by anything."

Sakura starts to bend over on the ground, waiting for the dog to fuck her tiny pussy, and spreads both of her holes.

"Come here cutie, use my holes freely, choose where you want to put inside your small cock, I wouldn't be mad <3"

Sakura spanks her ass, telling the dog to come to her. Without any uncertainty, the dog sniffs and licks Sakura's pussy. After that, the dog mounts itself to Sakura and pounds her relentlessly on her pussy. Sakura only can moan but she is satisfied with what the dog is doing.

"Good boy, please fuck me like that, fuck me like I am an animal too, cutie. Use me as your cumdump, fill me with your seed. don't stop it, let me satisfy your lustful desire, cutie ~"

Sakura moans loudly and looks at the dog. She still couldn't believe that she is fucked by a dog right now.

The hound thrusts harder into Sakura's body, and Sakura moans getting louder and louder, She plays with her tits while the dog is still pounding, and plays with her tits while the hound is still pounding making her pussy wet once again. She only could remain silent while tears started to fall from her face because the dog was pounding her pussy relentlessly. Now she is covering her mouth to muffle her moans to make sure that nobody is hearing her whining and being fucked by a dog.

"Cutie please stop it, stop it please cutie, Im gonna cum ahh ~ cutie please stop it AHHH IM CUMMING IM GONNA CUM CUTIE STOP IT PLEASEEE FUCK CUTIE YOU FUCK ME SO GOOD ~"

Sakura squirts together with the dog cumming inside her pussy. Cum drips from her pussy while the dog runs away into the bushes and disappears. Sakura lay down limp on the ground unable to do anything, she couldn't even get up to stand.

"Ahh fuck, that animal fucks my pussy so good... Sadly it is tiny, but that was a damn feral experience for me."

She sighed, and then she tried to get up and sit down for a while, retaking her energy to walk back. Sakura sweats a plenty once again from what she is doing with the hound. While sitting, she looked down at herself and looked at her whole body. At that point, she looked at her sweaty armpits.

"Damn, why are my pits so sensual when I am so sweaty? Take a pics again I guess? hehehe..."

Sakura opened her phone and took some pics of her sweaty armpits using a seductive facial expression. She also took some pics of her licking her pits.

She closed her phone again, and she continued to worship her own body. She kisses, sniffs, and licks her armpits both left and right. She did it without any reluctance. She's fallen in love with her own body.

Without her realization, the moon was getting higher and higher, the wind was getting colder. Sakura opened her phone and the time indicated that it was 10:30 PM already. She gets up and walks back to the bench where she puts on her sports bra and shorts.

Sakura put her sports bra and shorts on and walked back to her apartment.

===================================

Sakura arrived at her apartment safe and sound. She immediately goes to the bathroom and cleanses herself after all of the wildness that she is doing at the park. After she is done cleaning herself, she comes out of the bathroom naked. She dries herself and thinks of something.

"Meh, I don't want to sleep with any outfits tonight, I'm too slothful hehehe ~"

Sakura enters her bedroom and gets into bed. She looked up at the ceiling, still thinking about what she had done in the park.

"My Gosh... What I have done tonight is insane, from pissing relentlessly to fucked by a dog... Maybe I should do that again ~"

Sakura closes her eyes, and she falls asleep.

[unknownjpegs]

lyra

Maran wakes from one of his routine nightmares with a cry he stifles into his palm, which has been placed firmly over his mouth long before he even gained conscious.

 For a moment, panic flashes through him. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The fear lights like the fuse to dynamite, an anxiety stronger than the lingering usual rapidity of his heartbeat after a dream or the familiar, sick swell of memory bittering his stomach.

He takes several breaths and imagines himself chasing after the sparking string, stomping it into smoke and a cartoonish blackened fray before it can reach dynamite. Imagines himself as a road runner obsessed coyote, then, and the absurdity of the mental image is enough to make him chuckle. Enough to pull him out of it, that panic, and into the present. Into the stuffy, humid guest room of Benji’s house.

He goes to the window for air, numbing the ancient sticking lock and throwing it open. The air’s better immediately so he breathes in a deep lungful, trying to be mindful about the way in which it escapes back out. Tries to focus on it, think about it, like his therapist urges.

Except he can’t really focus on anything because there’s a figure in Benji’s yard. The window Maran hangs from, palms flat to the crumbling sill, faces the woods, the pond that stretches between their dark recesses and the house. Maran drags his eyes away from the pitch-black tree line, stifling a bit of fear at the sight.

It’s easier to look at the cross-legged figure. Red beanie, massive black jacket. Xavier’s friend, but not the friendly yet stony-faced Lark. Maran could lie and say that makes him move for his hoodie more slowly, that he doesn’t nearly trip on the last two steps as he goes for the patio door. That he doesn’t pause halfway down the grass, come to a skidding stop before darting back inside. Bit of a cold night, he’s thinking, and he won’t be comfortable sitting in the chill without a blanket. And even if he hadn’t thought it first himself, it’s his nonna’s voice in his head anyway. Chiding him in her lisping, comforting lilt to keep warm, stay healthy. So he gets a couple plastic cups from cabinet — top left above the stove, just like at Benji’s mum’s place — and makes for the door.

“You okay?”

Maran freezes and turns slowly, eyebrows up. Matilda stands half-way up the stairs, one slim-fingered hand resting on the railing and the other in a fist rubbing her eye. He likes Matilda enough to lie.

“Yep.” It has his usual brand of dismissive cheer reserved for questions along those lines. You okay? Has it gotten easier? Do you feel better now that you’re home? Do you feel like yourself? “Hard to get to bed sometimes. M’just going out for some air. Sit by the pond.”

She glances towards the glass doors. “At two?”

Maran pauses. “Xavier says you can see Lyra from here.”

“Sorry? At two?” One of her eyebrows lifts.

He nearly gives up then. Almost tosses the blanket to her, drops the two cups of water right on the floor. But when he opens his mouth to fire something back, a mean little quip, she stares right back into his eyes. Hers are a lighter shade of brown. He’s stood close enough to see the tiny golden flecks beneath her pupil. The comment sits in a hot, rude spark on the tip of his tongue and fizzles out.

Maran sighs. “Ben looks like he could use company.”

Matilda furrows her brow and then leans over the bannister to get an angle to the pond out the window. He watches her face for any hint of a reaction, any clue as to what she might be thinking about that. Finds none.

“Sitting out there alone?” Matilda points out in a whisper. “That makes it seem like company is the last thing on his mind.”

He shrugs, winding his eyes in a circle around the foyer and away from the glittering assessment of hers. He thinks for a moment, watching her posture tighten and mouth pucker, that she’ll try and stop him. Wake Benji, maybe, tell him your crazy fucking friend is trying to sneak out.

Instead, she begins to climb the staircase backward.

“What’s so important about Lyra?”

That morning, Xavier and Benji had lounged in their chairs on the patio. They’d dragged the chairs closer, and Maran had perched between them on either armrest. Xavier was reading from a wikipedia page, eyes narrowed at the white glare of his screen. He read slow, but in a way that elongated his accent and made it pleasantly listenable. Maran didn’t say so out of fear it’d be taken wrong, but he’d listen to an audiobook if it was read like that. Lyra, Xavier had announced, had one of the brightest stars in the sky. And one of its neighboring stars had boundaries of a habitable zone — meant the planets orbiting it were earth-like, might have life.

At that, Benji and Maran had exchanged theatric, wide-eyed glances and intoned, at the same time: “Aliens.”

So that’s what Maran tells her is so important about Lyra. She blinks at him.

“If they’re fit —”

She lifts a hand, scoffing a little too loudly for the time of night. “Don’t. Christ, you definitely grew up with Benji.” She turns to climb the rest of the way up to the second floor, where everyone sleeps. “Tell Ben that story.”

Maran watches her start to fade into the shadows. “Does he like aliens?”

Matilda pauses again at the top, half-turned around the corner. Only one side of her face is visible, split midway by the trim. “Yeah, sure.”

*

At the pond’s edge, Maran drops unceremoniously to the dewy grass and spreads the blanket over his legs. One of the cups stays in his hand and the other is offered to his companion.

“How strong?”

“Ah. ‘Ave to google the alcohol content of water.”

Ben stares at him. “Water?” He takes a sip from the cup, swallows, takes a breath, then tips it back and drains it. Maran’s eyebrows climb steadily up his forehead.

Ben does not blink.

*

They chat for awhile. Maran isn’t entirely sure how long. But when he comes back to himself, drags away from the conversation and Ben’s soft barely-there laughs, the fuzzy companionship of a story, and his confidence at recounting the mostly-correct details of Xavier’s constellation, the moon is in a different position.

And Benny is watching him gesture, speak, ramble. Maran’s hands abruptly drop, his mouth pressing into a firm, speechless line.

“I wanted to hear the rest,” his company says encouragingly.

 “Nothing else.” The silence lasts half a second. He lifts the edge of the blanket invitingly, tossing it over Ben’s legs too. “But I’m just sayin’, all these dogs know these buttons? Got vocabularies that big, all of a sudden? Nah. There’s no —”

“Would you be down,” Ben interrupts mildly, “to kiss?”

Both of them watch silently as Maran rubs a blade of grass between his fingers until it twines into a rolled, thin tube. And then he registers the question. Maran stares at him with wide eyes. He wonders if he’d get a laugh, were they to pop out of his skull on thin legs and run away. Go for a skinny dip, traumatize some ducks. He stops thinking of that, water and skin, because they’re sat a little too close and he’s just been asked —

Me? He wants to ask, to demand. Why? Is it a joke? Is it another trick?

Has to be, so Maran swallows a nervous laugh as he looks off across the water. Its reverse projection of the night sky would be a perfect, glassy reflection if not for the gentle ripple in its surface, a gift brought on by the breeze. It’s a lovely breeze. It’s a lovely pond, a house, a property, a night, a life.

It doesn’t feel like Maran’s, though.

“Like, a hypothetical?”

Ben returns his leveled stare in his pretty, winterized way. Intense but somehow not cold. “No.”

This time, the sound bubbles up no matter how much he wants it to stay down. It sounds just as edgy and anxious as he worried it’d be — high, unpracticed, awkward. If Maran makes noises like that, people will know something is off about him. People won’t want to be around him.

Won’t want to kiss him.

“Okay,” Maran says. He feels awkward all over, hyperaware of the arrangement of his limbs, the curve of his spine (bad posture, Benji’s mum teasingly snappish in his skull), how big this particular hoodie is on him, the spot on his jeans he can’t get out, how filthy his shoes are — “Um. Yeah, okay. Really kiss. No hypotheticals. Okay.”

“Okay?” Benny repeats. He rotates himself in the grass. Knees pulled up, he slots a leg in between Maran’s. When nudged, he leans forward on his elbows. Props up with one on his own bent knee, the other atop Ben’s — where his jean rips around pale skin. He has a tattoo there that Maran can see only half of, the black fading and mottled in places. Rough heal. He knows that from Benji.

“What’s this one?”

“Stupid.” Ben responds matter-of-factly, but with enough twist to make clear the joke.

Maran wrinkles his nose anyway. “I like it.” He runs a finger across the whiskers and nose of the snarling tiger, dipping slightly beneath the frayed edge of his jeans.

Ben grabs his wrist. It’s a loose circle, no crunch to his bone from an angry, iron grip. And yet he sucks in a breath and wrenches it away — not because of the touch itself, or that it crossed some boundary. But because he had.

“Sorry,” Maran says immediately. He presses his hands to the grass. Ben lets him, releases his grip and lets Maran pat a nervous rhythm against the green. Benji needs to trim it. Or have Xavier. The pond looks a little overgrown too, but in a nice way. The mystical mundane of all ponds at night, where they gained enough magic to hold the moon and stars. He remembers that first afternoon. Remembers the cattail he’s got wedged between pages of a book he’d brought along.

Who does that? He imagines himself letting that secret go, filtered out into the night along with all the little things he’d already let slip. I pressed that stupid plant between pages of a journal. He imagines getting laughed at.

Except Ben doesn’t laugh. He also doesn’t let Maran scoot away, or push to his feet to leave. Instead, he leans in so close that Maran sucks in a breath and holds it, eyes dropping to where tattooed knuckles curl around the back of his elbow.

“Wh-What are you apologizing for?”

He shrugs, tracing mad circles around Ben’s features. They’re too close not to look at.

“Preemptive, I guess.” He whispers it. Mot really knowing why he does. No one to hear them out here, no one to wake up except maybe the ducklings. Maybe it’s because the moment feels soft and thin. Speaking too loud would ruin the comfortable quiet, wouldn’t it? He used to do that. Used to be capable of speaking too loud.

“Just in case?” Benny uses the leverage on Maran’s arm to drag himself closer. He doesn’t seem too concerned about staining his jeans. Maran glances down at his palm and the slip of green marring it. He gets lost for a moment, staring at the hypnotizing valleys of lines.

“I don’t want to fuck it up.” The admission is unintended. So quiet that it’s nearly not there at all. But he snaps his mouth shut, shaking his head. As if he can take it back. “That — shit. That sounds pitiful, doesn’t it?”

Benny shrugs. Twin brushes against Maran’s calves, up the outside of his thighs, make him realize that he’s been guided closer. His knees are hitched over Ben’s, trainers flat to the grass on either side of his hips. It’s intimate; a lot of them touches.

“Full d-disclosure?”

Maran nods. He’s unfocused, tracing the stark black shapes of the scorpion that peeks from the edge of Ben’s jacket. And then suddenly there’s a touch beneath his chin, pulling his gaze away from that tattoo to clear blue eyes. Ben cups his jaw in a warm, calloused palm. Holds him there, forces him to look. His hand takes up nearly the whole of Maran’s face, middle finger brushing his eyebrow.

“It’s pretty m-much impossible to make me have a negative opinion of you, at this point.” When Maran stares blankly at him, he swears Benny blushes. “So. You won’t f-fuck anything up.”

Maran’s mouth pulls the odd facsimile of a grin. “We’ve known each other a day, tops?”

Ben tilts his head. The beanie slips off, and Maran catches it before it hits the dew-moistened grass.

“What’d you say — pitiful?”

He’s pulled in, then. It feels natural as anything to accept the press of lips to his own, although he stays stiff. His fingers vice a tight squeeze above each of Ben’s knees, chest rising and falling in aborted, uneven breaths. Suddenly, a hand cups the back of his head. Maran softens to the touch with an immediacy that embarrasses him, slumping forward with an arm around Ben’s shoulders.

The kiss stays tame, but Maran feels the want rise up from his gut regardless. When he tries to press in, part his lips, find the forgotten taste of another person with his tongue, it ends.

Ben clears his throat. His eyes still haven’t opened yet, so Maran takes the opportunity to drink him in. Notes the light, unevenly pigmented bits in his facial hair, his skin peachy with color, the delicate creasing around his eyes that’s visible even when he isn’t smiling. Maran would really, really like to see him smile.

“You leaving tomorrow with everyone?” He wonders. It’s the loudest he’s spoken for the entire evening.

Benny nods.

Maran does, too. Keeps nodding. Debating. Then he reaches forward and slips a hand into messy blond hair, using the warm cup of his palm to snatch Ben closer, himself forward. The other man makes a shocked yet appreciative noise, and allows it.

If I don’t see you again.

The second kiss is as satisfying, maybe even more. The condensed ball of heat in his chest feels like it’s been spun like mad, warming him from the inside out. He isn’t sure how Ben manages to keep his restraint when it feels so impossible to Maran. He squirms a bit in place through the kiss. His hands moving to rest against cool, bared knees, blinding that panther. They move of their own accord to thighs, clutch forearms and paw at a chest, rest carefully against stubbled cheeks.

The second kiss is messy, is quick. And yes. Satisfying — more.

But it’s also over far too soon; when Ben pulls away, Maran leans so quickly and severely forward that he almost collapses facedown into the spot he’d just occupied.

“Fuck,” Benny says, sounding husky and out of breath. He catches Maran by the shoulders and holds him upright. Holds him back. The strength makes Maran shiver. “Relax.”

He feels like he never will again. His thoughts have kicked up and are quickly spinning out of control. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of thing. Benji’s brave. He’s got it together. House and savings and a dog, a kitchen, a partner. Benji’s got the bravery and the stubbornness to do the things he must have had to do to land here. This isn’t the sort of accomplishment people get by drifting. This is a claw-for-it life. I don’t want to claw. I want to stay home. I want to sleep and I want to have dreams instead of nightmares and —

Fuck, I think I want to kiss again.

Maran squints against a suddenly blinding white light. When he peeks one eye open, he sees that Ben is only holding up his phone. Maran plucks it out of his hand, eyebrows bunched. The screen, usually locked, is open to a contact card. There’s no address or email or title or even picture.

Just a rabbit emoji where the name is meant to go.

[bonefall]

YES!!! THAT IS A THING HE DOES!!!!!!

HE MAKES HER WAIT, AND THEN WHEN THERE IS A MINOR DELAY AT FOURTREES AFTER ACORN FUR HAS DESPERATELY RUN TO FETCH MOTH FLIGHT, HE TAKES THE CHANCE TO BLAME WIND FUCKING RUNNER FOR IT

In FACT, he even PREVENTS Acorn Fur from becoming fully trained!

[ID: Excerpt from Moth Flight's Vision. Transcript:

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Sparrow Fur snarled. “Clear Sky is my leader. I follow his orders. And his orders are that no cat should cross our border. Especially not a WindClan cat.” Fury scorched Moth Flight’s belly. “I’m not here tohunt! StarClan ordered me to train Acorn Fur and that’s what I’m going to do.” She headed past Sparrow Fur. The SkyClan she-cat dodged ahead of her. She glared at the tortoiseshell angrily. “Get out of my way! I have to—” She stopped, surprised to see worry clouding Sparrow Fur’s gaze. “You have to leave!” Lowering her voice, Sparrow Fur glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Why?” “Clear Sky will rip you to shreds if you reach the camp,” she warned. “And then he’ll rip me to shreds for letting you.” Moth Flight halted. “He hasn’t hurt Acorn Fur, has he?” “No!” Sparrow Fur looked indignant. “But he’s angry that she’s been sneaking onto WindClan land to train with you. How can he prove that we don’t cross the border if she trails SkyClan scent all over the moorside?”]

Here's his orders to Sparrow Fur that Moth Flight is not allowed to enter and Acorn Fur is not allowed to leave to complete her training. This same chapter notes that Clear Sky is openly and flagrantly defying the will of StarClan, btw.

OH and don't think for a second I'm not noticing that this entire conflict is based on an evil atheist woman (that's WC bingo!) lying for no reason. Willow Tail alone is "responsible" for all this because the narrative is incapable of letting things just be Clear Sky's fault. We're just not talking about that right now.

Anyway then he's late to a gathering and Wind Runner is so pissed off she calls for an embargo. Sparrow Fur runs to the gathering to ask for Moth Flight.

Wind Runner delays her for only a few minutes.

You remember that. Wind Runner said no and the other leaders argued yes, but Moth Flight is not detained or held back for long. This delay was at most 10 minutes; and I'm being VEEEEERY generous with that estimate.

I am being Santa Claus with that estimate. Realistically it was 5.

Next, I am giving you a content warning. Tiny Branch, a child of less than 6 moons, is dying and they give a very clear description of how bad his wounds are. He does not survive this.

CW for child death and animal death.

[ID: Excerpt from Moth Flight's Vision. Transcript:

Moth Flight scrambled to a halt and crouched beside the kit. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears as she swiftly scanned his body. There were deep teeth wounds on his flank. His hind paw was twisted and bloody, as though it had been yanked from a thorn bush. His eyes were closed, flickering slightly. His muzzle was clumped with dried blood. She smelled the sharp tang of horsetail and marigold rising from Tiny Branch’s wound. Dried green pulp showed on his bloody fur. Acorn Fur had clearly been trying to treat him for some time. Moth Flight glanced at Clear Sky. “Where’s Acorn Fur?” “She went to find cobwebs.” Clear Sky’s mew was tight. Moth Flight pictured the SkyClan medicine cat struggling alone to help Tiny Branch. Sympathy pricked at her heart. She wasn’t trained to deal with injuries as bad as this. She must be terrified. “She should have sent for help sooner.” Clear Sky’s tail twitched. “SkyClan doesn’t ask for help unless there’s no choice.” 'Did you stop her?' Moth Flight angrily swallowed back the words. Picking a fight with Clear Sky wouldn’t help Tiny Branch.]

I want you to look at the state Clear Sky left his son in. I want you to imagine the sort of pain this child would have felt, as the time passed enough for those herbs to dry and for swelling, a sign of infection, to set in.

And I want you to imagine you're Acorn Fur.

I want you to think about how this man got your teacher killed. I want you to remember that he stopped you from being fully trained, and that you have every reason to fear him, from his regular threats of violence to how he is the one responsible for the death of both of your parents in the First Battle.

And now imagine you've just had a mauled kid dumped at your feet, having NO IDEA how to treat wounds so serious and so deep, and he stops you from getting help.

Because "SkyClan" doesn't ask for help, "unless there's no choice."

Who the fuck is SkyClan, then? Because it's not for Acorn Fur. It's not for Tiny Branch. It's not for the horrified onlookers watching a child die a slow, agonizing death. It's not for Sparrow Fur, either, who's ALSO terrified of Clear Sky's wrath just a few chapters earlier.

It's for him. He IS SkyClan. It's for his fucking ego. It always has been.

If you think it's ever been for the benefit of anyone else, you are a fool. This is who Clear Sky is.

Oh but it doesn't stop there!

[Image ID: Excerpt from Moth Flight's Vision. Transcript:

“I had to come,” Moth Flight told him. “I need bark from the tree where Micah died. It’s to cure a sick Clanmate. She’s got redcough. She might die.” She waited for Clear Sky to understand. But he only stared at her. “No cat is allowed on SkyClan land,” he repeated. “I need the bark!” Moth Flight glared at him. “I know you’re grieving and I hate to disturb you. We don’t want to disturb you. We just want to take the bark and go.” “No.” Clear Sky slowly lifted his head, his gaze clearing. “Last night, you tried to save Tiny Branch, and I will always be grateful for that. But if Wind Runner hadn’t tried to stop you from coming, my kit might still be alive. Wind Runner has to realize that there are consequences for her actions. She has to admit her mistake.” Cold fear rippled along Moth Flight’s spine. There was darkness in the SkyClan leader’s words. He is capable of more cruelty than you can imagine. “What are you going to do?” “To you?” His ear twitched. “Nothing.” Moth Flight heard paw steps. Pelts moved at the edge of her vision. She smelled the scents of Alder and Red Claw as they closed in behind her. Clear Sky went on. “You will simply be our guest until Wind Runner comes to fetch you.”]

Remember that Clear Sky only cares about things that belong to him. He is incapable of admitting mistakes because he doesn't believe he makes them, so instead, he's decided to completely blame Wind Runner for the death of his child.

And he will hold HER child hostage until this fantasy scenario plays out where Wind Runner waltzes onto enemy territory and tells him how wrong she was for doing the same exact thing he did earlier; prevent a medicine cat from lending aid.

I want you to remember, again, how long he waited. Dried pulp and infection.

Or, more likely, Clear Sky's not stupid. He's cruel, and knows this will start war.

Remember the last time he held a prisoner? Just before the First Battle? When he committed a war crime by starving Acorn Fur's father to the point of emaciation? I remember it.

But a few pages later, the inevitable battle happens, and he's Surprised Pikachu about it. The narrative is once again incapable of blaming Clear Sky for the very obviously bad actions he takes.

His apology gives Bramblestar's "WE should never have let it get this bad" a run for its money. When forced to make peace, he dips his head, and concedes;

"It was a dumb fight"

OH YEAH? A LITTLE BIT OF AN OOPSIE-DAISY?? A FUCKIE WUCKIE??? THAT'S IT??? A TEENSY-WEENSIE ITTY-BITTY LITTLE,

[Image ID: "Uh, eto... bleh" meme.]

I once said that Clear Sky is pre-TBC Ashfur on steroids with Fire Scenes every other book, and I stand by that. He is a possessive, horrific tyrant, obsessed with personal slights and an ego so large it's impossible to not offend it.

The only thing worse than Clear Sky's actions is how the books are incapable of treating him like the threat he is, throwing kittens, mates, and unfounded respect at him as it desperately pretends he isn't responsible for his own problems. The narrative decides to punish Willow Tail in this battle, by killing her violently and allowing Peace To Return To The Clans With The Death of the Evil Foreigner(s).

What's the counter on that now, btw? 6? Scourge, Darktail and Hawkfrost are 3 in the main series. Willow Tail, One Eye, and Slash make 3 in DOTC alone.

The only power Clear Sky deserves is the power of taking 2 steps in concrete shoes. And no further, forever.

Who is the better dad, Clear Sky or Grey Wing? My friend group is arguing over this because for some reason one side says Skyclan counts for Clear Sky's dad points and we agreed to toss out Jagged Peak because they both kinda parented him, so help please as both sides agree that you have great wisdom over these kinds of issues.

....im so sorry I'm going to beat your friends with a stick what kind of a leap of logic is having SkyClan count for dad points??

If SkyClan counts as dad points then how do they not realize how incredibly abusive Clear Sky is to all of his underlings? Throwing cats out when they're sick, doing intense public humiliations, regularly warmongering and getting cats killed for no reason!

When his son Thunder comes out and says, "dad we should not throw out this cat with an infected wound" Clear Sky tells him to lick the pus off. In front of everyone. Absolute freakjob behavior

And no no no, you tell them to bring Jagged Peak RIGHT BACK INTO the conversation, because if they 'both parented' him then how exactly do they justify Clear Sky kicking him out to fucking die??

This isn't even Bonefall's Certified Relationship Guru type analysis this is surface level stuff dude!!

And don't stop there! The hogwash barrel is truly endless! It contains many gallons of both hogs and wash!

Because Clear Sky's 'redemption' is a Tumbles McStairdragon level blunder! He continues to be incredibly controlling of his son and his Clan and utterly resistant towards being told what to do.

Was it good dad behavior when he let his NEWEST disabled family member develop a horrible infection from a fox attack, and not let Acorn Fur seek help until his baby was on death's door?

If we're counting SkyClan as "dad points" then was it good dad behavior when he made Micah's life hell for the high crime of being his Clan's doctor and a foreigner? When he got him killed for gathering fucking sap??

How about when he insisted Acorn Fur was good enough to heal that sick baby son, as she kept trying to tell him she wasn't fully trained and needed help? Is ignoring the limitations and comfort of your doctor/clan daughter by this wahoo logic good dad behavior also??

At every turn, at every point, Clear Sky's pride, selfishness, and complete lack of compassion gets people hurt, injured, and killed.

He was a horrible father to the FIRST surviving child, he is the REASON he only has two more living kits, and quite frankly? If any of his other children survived, they would be utterly justified in dumping his butt in a kitty nursing home and splitting the inheritance six ways from Sunday.

[chvnssecret]

Property // kim seungmin x reader

warnings - smut, 18+, fanfiction, fake storyline, stalker au, slight pervert au, yandere scenes. mentions of knives, smut and unprotected sex. mentions of death and murder. if you are under the age of 18, i suggest you click off now.

summary - y/n who works in a bakery downtown and lives alone doesn’t realise who’s close. an unknown number messages her but she thinks it’s all a joke until it doesn’t fizzle out.

part 20 - run

AN: this is and will be the last part of property. i fell out of love with the story and ended up losing motivation for it. sorry guys, i hope you enjoyed this short but chaotic shit i wrote hahaha!

previous part

But it isn't, and now you're both escaping because Seonghwa's friends put Seungmin in as a suspect.

But it isn't, and now you're both escaping because Seonghwa's friends put Seungmin in as a suspect.

But it isn't, and now you're both escaping because Seonghwa's friends put Seungmin in as a suspect.

Maybe this was what you deserved after falling in love with your stalker. For falling into his trap and letting him make you vulnerable. It all felt right, yet you knew you could never return to, and you felt so hiraeth for it.

"Come on, I'll help you pack. We have approximately and hour to get out of this hell hole," He basically dragged you up the stairs, allowing you to trip over your own feet on the way.

The unknown number, the phone call, everything, it was all soaring through your brain. Suddenly you were back to the girl you were four months ago, anxious and completely confused at what you were doing with your life.

"We will visit at 1pm to carry out an interview."

You hated them, whoever put you into this colossal mess.

Hurried and disconcerted, any suitcase would do. You shoved things in without caring if they were screwed up, not forgetting all your belongings you got back from Brandon.

The house was empty within moments, yet still tidy so the police were unable to tell that you had done a runner.

"This is absurd, we shouldn't be doing this," you complained, chucking all of your belongings into the trunk of his car and slamming the door.

"Just get in the fucking car before anyone sees us!" And that you did. His foot was on the accelerator before you could even fasten your seatbelt, speeding off the driveway and onto your next journey.

"Where are we going?" The curiosity was killing you and it was only right that you asked. "Jeju," He responded, hands gripping the wheel and not taking his eyes off the road.

“Jeju,” you parroted, “why?” You were met with no answer, yet again. You had never been to Jeju— mostly for the fact that you’re probably not high maintenance enough— but still, you were excited. The silence was deafening, yet everything was still so loud; the phone call, the wind seeping through the cracks of the windows, the radio which was on volume four, the sound of the engine, the silence.

“It’s a beautiful place, and far away from here. I’ve sorted us some fake IDs, so don’t worry too much.” His tone turned soft, probably sensing your raging anxiety because of your bouncing leg. You wanted to know why. Why you were put into all of this mess, and how it even got this far. Thinking back to where it all started; the creepy messages, him following you to work, picking you up from a party and bringing you back to his. His behaviour was abnormal, you knew it, yet you still had a huge soft spot for him, one that you had never felt for someone before. Could be the fact that you’re protected by him, who knows, all you know is that you don’t want to lose this man— not even to the police.

“What happens in the end, Min?” You ponder, looking out the window at all the traffic speeding by. “There is no end, baby. Stop stressing it.” He looked over at you for the first time since getting in the car and placed a comforting hand on your leg.

“But…what if we get caught?” Your voice turned small, pathetic and almost like a whisper. It’s not what you wanted to discuss, but it’s what you needed to discuss. “I can’t be by myself..I just can’t. You need to get us away, Seungmin. So far that even our closest friends don’t know where we have gone!” It all babbled out, and suddenly you were crying, thinking of losing him. It felt similar to when your parents died, feeling so alone and broken with no one to turn to. Seungmin had become your safety, your person. He’s not someone you wanted to lose.

“We have three hours of a drive left, you wanna stop for a bit and breathe?” He offered, sparing you worried glances before quickly turning back to the road. “I just want to get there, and fast.” Your head laid in your hands, complete despair whilst negative thoughts ran through your mind.

With that, he sped up.

—

The two of you had spent the last few hours mindlessly chatting about everything and nothing. Sometimes it was pure silence, and sometimes there would be small talk. It didn’t matter though, because it was you and him alone.

A sign came into view “Jeju Island” and it was so much prettier than imagined. The mountains were ever so green, the skies blue, you could pretty much hear the waves from the car. Everything was so…colourful, yet it felt like home already.

“Where are we staying?” You asked whilst being completely distracted by the scenery outside. It was like nothing you had ever seen before.

“I have an apartment just up here. You like it?” A smile could be heard within his voice. “Do I like it,” you parroted, “I love it!”

Around a few more bends and traffic lights, was his apartment.

“Second floor on the left.” He spoke as he laugged all of the suitcases out of the car, not even allowing you to carry one. You both entered the boujee sliding doors and headed for the elevator.

“We will be fine here, just fine.” He smiled and kissed the top of your head.

The elevator dinged to signal you were at your designated floor. He unlocked the door with ease, opening it for you to enter first. It was beautiful, a marble island as you walk in that looks out onto the gorgeous sea view. Wooden stairs that spiral up and soft carpet to lay under your feet. You had never seen a television so huge, and such a tiny sofa to match it, yet it felt so homely all at once.

“We can unpack later, come here.” He spoke, sitting on the sofa with his legs spread, tapping his thigh. You couldn’t ignore the lick of heat running up your spine, but you had to.

His eyes followed your every move as you edged closer to him, straddling his lap and kissing him.

“I fucking…love you,” he spoke between kisses, cradling your face as though you would run away. Running away was something you definitely couldn’t do.

“I love you too, but, Min—,” You tried to speak, but he cut you off with a hush.

“Less talking, more action.” He demanded.

“But, I need to spea—,” “Y/N,” his tone was dark, warning and full of lust.

“Seungmin!” You announced, finally catching his attention. He looked at you, flabbergasted and worried almost.

“What is it, baby? You don’t wanna have sex with me?” Your heart broke at his words. Of course you did, but you couldn’t.

“I do want to, but I can’t, Min.”

He looked confused, eyes narrowing at you.

“I think I’m pregnant…”

—

taglist: @h0neydewmoon @whatudowhennooneseesyou @ana-stasssiaaa @channieismyboy @maxxieandersonl @kpflyn

[glitched-shadow]

《Gone And Never To Return》

⚠️Angnst⚠️

Ellie Williams x Gender neutral reader

MENTIONS, cursing, blood, dying reader (turning), probably not correct timing-, sad Ellie and death

Angst, no happy ending

Erm- this is my first fanfic writing and I chose angsty stuff. All I ask, if this does get seen, Please don't judge. I'm just tying this out honestly.

You and Ellie were sent out on a patrol, checking out places that have been showing more activity. Though there wasn't much going on, so you hadn't been paying as much attention as you should have been.

Instead you were making small talk with your girlfriend, talking about funny and dumb stories of life before the outbreak.

"Very quiet around here. Why did they send us out again?" You ask, doing a quick sweep around the snow covered forest. The powder covering the ground was bright, almost blinding if it wasn't for your eyes already being adjusted to it.

"Well.. Tommy was saying it was getting active around this area. But I'll admit, it's nice just being able to talk and ride out here" Ellie looked back at you, you smiled in return. She's not wrong, you two haven't been able to just talk in a few weeks now. Joel and Tommy have been sending Ellie on patrols left and right. While you don't have anything assigned to you, so you spend your free time helping around town. Both of you exhausted by the time you see each other again. So your guy's alone time has been very limited.

The wind around you guys started picking up, looking around you could clearly tell a snow storm was on its way. Seemingly quick too.

"Hey Ellie how far is a check point?" You slightly yelled because of the winds picking up quickly. You hear Ellie say something but it was muffled out with how far she was from you "Ellie! Wait for me!" You yell, speeding up to try and keep up. But you lost her and her horse tracks aren't staying very long.

After a few minutes of following tracks, till they disappeared completely because of the heavy snowfall. "Ellie! Where the hell are you!?" You yell turning you horse to go a different direction, you started moving forward when something had moved in the near bushes. You horse now spooked with how close and sudden it was, kicked back.

Your horse's sudden action caught you of guard and it flung you off, landing in the soft powdered snow. "Aw, fuck you!" You yelled flipping the horse off. It turned and started running off, "Wait no! Come back!" You yelled, regretting your choices. "Fuck.. ok, just try finding shelter." You told yourself as you started moving blindly though the storm.

As you moved through the snow and storm, you started to slow. You were shivering so much, it felt like your body was a moter.. without the heat. You heard slight clicking and groaning ahead so you grabed out your gun, incase infected decided to charge at you.

Focusing more on the sounds infront of you, you failed to noticed the two stalkers running straight for you. One had latched itself to your arm, clawing a trying to bite at you. While the other had slipped in the snow and still crawled towards you. Startled you shot at the one on your arm and stomped at the one on the ground, unfortunately you weren't thinking of the horde ahead you as you kept shooting at the one attached to you.

After killing the stalker you look up to see at least a dozen of runners, sprinting at you. Your neck started to sting, you ignored it as you shot at any runner getting to close for comfort. You shot over and over till your gun stopped, your ice cold fingers struggling to change the clip. A runner had grabbed onto you, whipping your knife out. You sliced its neck, blood splattered onto your face and clothes. More and more infected came at you, clearly outnumbered, but you weren't going down with out a fight.

Multiple gunshots whipped by you head, runners dropping like flies. Ellie had found you and immediately helped take care of the situation, 10- 15 minutes later, Ellie cleared out the rest of them. Bodies littered the ground, deep red blood dyed the snow around them and the clothes Ellie and you were wearing.

The stinging in your neck got worse, turning into a burn. You dropped to your knees, covering you neak that was leaking blood. When Ellie noticed the amount of blood on your arm and neck she rushed over, kneeling next to you. "Hey Y/N, its gonna be ok.. here let me see." she slowly moving your hand away. She nearly broke down, maybe even threw up right then and there. Your neck, covered in blood, was torn apart. A very large bite shown across your neck.

Ellie's eyes started to water, you grabbed onto her as it burned more and more "Ellie it hurts!" You yelled, sobing in pain and holding onto her for dear life

"I know baby.. I know, i-it's gonna be ok." Her voice cracking up as she hugged you, your blood spreading onto her clothing, she wanted to comfort you as much as she could.

"I don't want to go! I want to stay with you!" You cried out, sobing and shaking. She hated seeing you in pain, the thought of loosing you. She only tightened her grip when your body started jerking left and right, knowing you weren't going to be you. Knowing what she had to do to you soon, not wanting to let go.

You started to grab at her, but not like you would do when you wanted cuddles or kisses. Not like how you would when she had to leave early and you wanted her stay. You grabbed and clawed at her, now trying to bite her. Only then did she push you off, pulling her gun out and making sure it was loaded.

You got up and went at her again, but your body went limp this time as a loud gunshot went off. Your body landed in the snow, red slowly spreading to the snow surrounding you. It was Ellie's turn to drop to her kneels, sobbing, she just lost one of the people she cared for the most. SHE shot her own partner, yes you were infected. But it still hurt like hell. She stared at your lifeless body, hoping it would rise and hug her, comfort her again.

She covered you with snow, sitting next to the mound for a couple minutes as the storm calmed it's self. Shimmer slowly walking towards Ellie, she looks up and decides it's time to leave. She said her final goodbyes, final "I love you" she said as tears covered the dried ones. Mounting Shimmer she took off to Jackson

She dreaded having to tell everyone, retelling the scene to Dina and Jesse. Telling Joel and Tommy that you were gone. Telling your sibling and parents she couldn't protect their child, that Ellie now wears the blood of.

She had to tell everyone

you were gone and never

to return.

I hope you liked it, sorry if there are any mistakes in there or if it made you sad but it was kinda ment to- I may do more idk tho-

[lacheri]

|| moon river. || part i. ||

|| masterpost || taglist form || part ii. ||

pairing: Levi x fem bodied reader

chapter content: modern au, neighbors au, running away from home, bantering and cursing (reader and Levi are brats), mentions of loneliness/sadness, Levi speaks french (I do not so please let me know if my translations are terrible), minors do not interact.

summary: in which you meet your handsome new neighbor. too bad his sour attitude only leaves you more curious.

wc: 5.7k

a/n: I got impatient and excited, so I’m releasing this incredibly early. big thank you to @astridthevalkyrie, @asilentshout, and my beautiful friends (@esroh06 + Mochi) for beta-ing, I adore you guys. hope you guys like this, it’s been living in my head nonstop and consuming all my inspiration

The air smells like honey and the stairs never stop creaking here. In fact, the buildings never stop making concerning noises — the settling keeps you up at night and stirs you from your fleeting slumber. In those spine chilling moments, you nearly cry as you’re reminded that the wind hits the exteriors differently here — navigated and through a canal of tall brick structures and narrow street ways. You get used to the startling sounds, slowly and then all at once.

But it’s entirely worth it when you unlatch your windows in the morning, the fresh sweet smells of the bustling cafes and bakeries wafting through your space. The incoherent chatter of strangers lingering in the city streets below play like a record while you sip your morning brew, your bathrobe knotted at your waist as you soak in the sunlight on your balcony.

You love it here. You’re happy you moved here. Even if your begonia slumps sadly against the rusted railing — you have to remember to water it every day.

Even though you know no one, minus the kind elderly gentleman who owns your building. Even though every person you’ve tried to befriend hasn’t been, well, friendly. At least they’re honest, and you decide that’s all you can ask for.

You don’t always recall why you left your hometown in the first place. It hits you in a vague recollection; your mother crying, your boss handing you a pastel pink piece of parchment, your last straw being snapped. Your soul, your goddamn soul, was fiery and roaring in stagnancy.

You had to get the fuck out of there. So you did.

You scraped together every last penny in your savings, took a hammer to your childhood piggy bank, packed your bags and hauled your ass to the furthest city you could think of. You found yourself thankful for the disaster that was your foggy past, it led you here.

Your mother had told you once you were a runner. When things got hard, you escaped. Whether it was in the rainbow of paints on your canvas, or an unscrewed bolt on your window, you left. You remember in your younger years how she had caught you one night slipping back into your bedroom, the window having been left wide open. You hadn’t even seen her on your bed. She told you that you couldn’t live like this forever.

“Look at me now, mom,” you chuckle to yourself, swinging your right knee over the left in your chair. The sky was grey today, the breeze cold and the streets silent. Your coffee chilled in your palm, the doors to your balcony wide open. You feel a drop of rain, and head inside.

The clouds look angry today, and you decide you should paint them later.

The locks snap in place along the glass doors, and you turn. Your bed is unmade, the edge of your comforter gracing the cold cedar floorboards of your apartment. Your clean, and dirty, clothes are scattered about, but you pay them no mind. You’ll clean it all up eventually, but it’s not like you have guests to entertain at the moment anyways.

You are happy. You know this, you feel this. But at the same time, you wonder if it’s because you’re also so incredibly lonely.

You spend your morning scrolling through job listings on your phone, uncountable cups of coffee brewed and sipped. You flinch when you hear the old clock on your living room wall chime that noon has graced you. You wonder how many people your clock has seen stumble about the apartment you now inhabit, rushing to get ready for the day.

You nearly poke yourself in the eye with your mascara, your hands wafting air to control the tears that brim your lash line. They calm, and you shove your feet into a pair of old sneakers, and you’re out the door. You turn away from your lock, and crash immediately into a hard object.

You land on your ass with an ‘umph’, and cast a glare to whatever suddenly erected in front of your normally emptied hallway.

It’s a man, a very handsome, angry man.

“Regardez où vous allez,” he snarls, and you take note of his full hands. He holds a medium sized cardboard box, and from the clench of his fingers, it appears heavy.

(Look where you are going.)

You want to tell him you don’t understand, that you don’t speak French. But you are too caught up in how coal black strands of hair sit along his brow bone, how the creases sit by the corners of his eyes smooth and deepen as his expression turns neutral. His eyes are sparkling silver, flecks of icy blue scattered about in his irises, his pupils small and lashes long. They remind you of the sky outside, and your breath gets caught in your throat.

The man parts his lips again, an eyebrow arches, “Vous êtes sourd? Ou juste stupide?”

(Are you deaf? Or just stupid?)

You finally find the courage to speak, and you quickly scramble to your feet, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French.”

“Ah, donc, stupide alors,” he says under his breath even though you do not understand. “Watch where you’re going next time.”

(Ah, so, stupid then.)

You can’t help but pout at his words. The man was outside your door after all, why should you have to watch your step when he was the eyesore?

You decide to apologize anyways, “I’m sorry. I’m in a rush, I really didn’t see you.”

You watch as his smoky irises shift, scanning your form from head to toe. You don’t feel small under his heavy gaze, nor do you feel objectified. It’s like he’s sizing you up, like he’s just taking a good stern look at the woman who had just slammed into him.

His pupils meet yours, his voice soft, “Just be careful.”

You wonder if he can hear how fast your heart races in your chest at his words. His clear, understanding words — not many speak English in the city, and the lack of conversation with another person rings strong within you. You want to open your mouth, to find some reason to keep talking to the raven haired stranger, but he turns. The man strides just a few feet away to the apartment door right next to your own, and he shuffles through his pockets to fish out his keys before unlocking the chipped golden lock adorning the cedar.

His eyes flicker back to you for a moment, and then he disappears behind the closing door.

This has been your first coherent conversation with another human being since you moved here — an entire week of near silence. You wonder if maybe you can make a friend out of the ravenette with the pretty eyes.

Then you remember, you’re running late to your job interview.

The image of him does not dilute in your mind’s eye as you travel down the stairwell, does not exit your memory as you board a train. It doesn’t even falter as you stand outside the building of your possible employment — a hair salon on the other side of town. You’ve never cut a strand of hair a day in your life, but you like to think you have excellent skills in washing and sweeping. You hope your employers see it too.

They don’t.

“I have experience,” you had pleaded, trying your best to keep your tone professional and light. “I promise, if you hire me, you will not be disappointed.”

“Sorry, we just can not take the risk.”

You scribble out the name of the salon in your planner while you lean against the brick building. You scowl at the ever growing list of business names and positions, and wonder if the list of jobs presented to you on your search engine are designed to disappoint you. You feel as though they’re out to get you, personally.

You’ve been here for a week and you know your funds are running dry. You only have enough money to support yourself for another month, at most.

With a defeated sigh, you push your back off the brick wall and take a glance around. The north side of the city is beautiful to say the least — carefully placed planters hang from balconies, elegant architecture meets your eyes and warms your creative nature. If you didn’t feel so dejected, maybe you would’ve taken a few pictures to draw later on. But all the gorgeous scenery did was remind you that you were an outsider in this place.

You don't belong here amongst the crowd of well dressed people in their luxury brands, their expensive cars. You hardly belong in your part of the city either, even if it’s considered more affordable. Still, you love your apartment, you love the reality you’ve created for yourself. You suppose that maybe being sad is a part of the journey, so you clench your fists and will yourself to step forward.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow will be a better day. You remember that you’re happy, and you love the urban jungle you’ve joined.

You spend the rest of your early afternoon roaming the streets without a map, eager to familiarize yourself with the street names and to deem your favorite shops at landmarks. Since the weather is dreary today, not many people line the streets. You feel the occasional rain drop greet your nose and cheeks, and in your hurry you had forgotten an umbrella. It can’t be helped, especially when the clouds part and the fall becomes more patterned and frequent. You relinquish your adventure, and thankfully remember your path back to the train station before the rain really picks up.

There’s a woman who catches your eye on the train — she’s older, maybe in her mid 50’s. She sits alone, knees crossed in her long skirt and tights. She doesn’t look at the flashing signs of the drop off locations along the route, nor pays any mind to the intercom spoken in that language you do not understand. Instead, she stares out the foggy window by her seat, a small smile on her face. To anyone other than you, she would look sad. But without looking, her eyes widening as the train passes under a particularly long overpass, she stands to her feet. Maybe it’s muscle memory, or maybe she uses the concrete to judge her distance from her destination, you do not know. All you know is that she flashes you a smile on her way over to the automatic doors, and you send her one back.

You will never be able to let this woman know how much that smile means to you. The train feels colder when she leaves.

Your apartment complex isn’t staggeringly tall, it’s old and made of the same bricks that seem to line every building in this aged city. The doors make shrill sounds that claw at your eardrums when you push them — or pull, you still haven’t worked out the habit of familiarizing yourself with them yet. There are no elevators, only steep staircases and withering railings. You nearly trip over every fifth step, and by the time you make it to your floor, it’s a miracle you hadn’t passed out. Either from falling or the climb itself, you do not know. Regardless, your thighs ache and your calf muscles scream in agony.

You love it here. You’re happy you moved here.

Your front door shuts softly behind you, well at least as softly as it can. You’ve found drastic differences in the levels of creaks and slams, and you deem this one subtle. Your back slumps against the cedar, and your eyes meet your wall clock from across the open space of your threshold.

It’s past seven in the evening, and you realize you haven’t gone grocery shopping to make an adequate dinner for yourself.

You lazily push yourself forward to your bedroom, kicking your shoes off for the sneakers to lay in whatever place they may. You’ll wear them again tomorrow, anyway. No use putting them back where they belong.

You change out of your day clothes and find a silk robe in your closet. It brushes below your knees, and you wonder if this is the most expensive piece of clothing you own. You cost you half a paycheck in your hometown, and it was on sale. An early birthday present is what you had reasoned it to be, even if your birthday was six months away from then.

Your feet are bare as you wander to your kitchen, a very short distance from your bedroom. Your space is small but feels like a home, just maybe not yours. Sometimes you wake up and think you’re on vacation. The walls are thick in some places and in others they are thin, but the rooms all bleed into each other with wide arches and clean white paint. You have no pictures lining the surfaces, but you prefer it that way. It hurts too much to remember a past that did not want you.

There were a number of small things you had brought with you from home — a coffee pot, the robes (and most of your clothes), and your paint brushes. They were all you could fit inside the single cardboard box that traveled across land and sea alongside you, the box still lingering somewhere within your dwelling. Thankfully, the apartment had come with furniture. On the flip side, it was added to your rent. You really had to find a job, and soon.

The coffee pot chimes that the water is finished heating, and you add a tea bag to your mug. You let the scolding water fill to the brim, adding an ice cube for good measure. You’re impatient and you refuse to learn how to become more tolerant in any aspect of your life. The world moves too quickly for that.

The sun is low in the sky when your exposed feet hit the patio of your balcony. You abandon your chair for the afternoon, choosing to lean your elbows along the weathered railing and slowly sip at your tea. The clouds have left, revealing a dusty purple and pink hue in the atmosphere. You can hear the bustling of the cafe directly across the street from your apartment, but you’re too high up to decipher any words. The people eating and conversing outside look like ants, your eyes unable to focus on any distinct features. They seem happy though. You can make out their laughs.

Your begonia looks slightly happier at least, perky and less yellow-y than this morning. You silently thank the scattered rainfall that plagued most of the day. It saved you from forgetting about your poor plant friend once more.

There’s a click to your left, and for a second you believe you forgot to close your glass doors behind you. They rattle incessantly when you leave them open without the door stopper, the curtains fluttering like butterfly wings. The breezes are soft when you’re outside, but the second they pass the barrier of your building it sounds like a tornado has personally invited itself into your home.

You spare a glance behind you — not your doors. They’re closed tight. Your wandering eye leads you to gaze to the balcony next to yours. It’s empty, save for a single metal chair that looks older than the building itself. From your week of being perched on your platform, you’ve come to find that your neighbors hardly ever make good use of their personal mezzanines. A few outdoor plants here and there line the side of the exterior, but it’s mostly empty and void of personality. You think it’s because people come and go very quickly here, as it’s the best inexpensive option when moving to the city. At least, it was for you. Maybe it’s because the street it resides on has very little activities below, mainly just bakeries and a handful of cafes.

You can’t imagine moving anywhere else though. You truly do love your apartment.

You didn’t mean to stare and get lost in thought, but as you snap out of your inner monologue the man who you had ran into earlier stands on his balcony, staring straight back. You smile sheepishly, apologetically. He does not return the gesture, and you remember all at once that you are wearing quite a skimpy outfit for your neighbor of all people to catch you in. The robe may reach below your knees, but it’s thin. The knot around your waist is loose. You’re wearing nothing aside from a bra and panties underneath the silk.

You know your face drops, you can feel heat collect beneath the layers of skin on your cheeks, your blood boiling in embarrassment. You don’t know if it’s mercy or something else that provokes the raven haired man to turn his gaze away and retreat back indoors. All you know is that his presence felt like welcomed company, and your feet do not move from their spot.

You sigh. You’re no good at first impressions at all, are you?

The tea is lukewarm by the time the street lamps below kick on and the sky turns to a deep midnight blue. You miss the stars, and it’s the only thing you miss from home. The light pollution prevents the twinkling mystique and wonder of the galaxies far above your head from appearing to your naked eye, but the endless sea of street lights and high beams from cars almost seem to make up for its disappearance. Almost like a cluster of stars of its own. The city breathes, a body of constellations previously mapped. The grid is easy to appreciate from your view.

You think tea is good for plants so you dump the rest of your cup into your begonia. You imagine it says thank you.

Your sheets are freezing cold as you crawl into bed. Your phone light is dim, and your thumb hovers. You deleted all your social media in your hurried and carefully planned escape. You have no friends to text or to call, no family to reach out to. The pit of loneliness expands in your stomach, and you swallow a dry bubble of air. It’s not that you miss them, you tell yourself. You just miss talking to someone and having them talk back.

Your plant makes a terrible conversationalist, but you appreciate it regardless. Maybe you’ll name your begonia.

You place your phone on your chest as soft instrumentals of calming music fill the space of your bedroom. It’s not loud, you can barely hear the lyrics as the songs play. But it feels like someone’s there with you.

“Morning, neighbor!”

You’re grateful you’re wearing normal clothes now, and you’re not in such a rush this morning. In fact, you even had time to perfect your hair and makeup. You were early for a change, a new spark of hope springing forth from your center. You had a line up of promising job interviews today, and surely, hopefully, you were going to land one of them.

The man grunts, not exactly a warm greeting or a cold “fuck off”. You’ve waited with your ear leaning against your front door all morning to “coincidentally” run into your neighbor, waiting for the signal of signature creaky doors and heavy footfalls.

He looks unbothered today, but that’s probably because you’re not slamming full speed ahead into him. His hair is slightly disheveled, but his clothes are perfectly ironed, free of any wrinkles. There’s bags under his eyes, and you want to intrude and ask if he got enough sleep.

He’s not your friend, yet, you remind yourself. Don’t come across like a stalker.

“How are you today?” you try again, eager to hear a response. Silence meets your disappointing ears. You don’t give up, “It’s nice that the weather’s cleared up! I like the rain, but clear skies always put me in a good mood. How about you?”

“Are you usually this annoying before noon?” not the response you wanted, but it’s a response nonetheless.

You will your face to remain bright, “Sorry, just trying to be friendly. I haven’t gotten a chance to introduce myself.”

You spew out your name, blinking as you are once again met with silence. You charge forward in your one sided conversation with determination, “And you are?”

“Annoyed.”

“Well,” you‘re sure your smile looks mangled as anger surges through your body. “Pleasure to meet you, annoyed. You make a lot of friends with that attitude?”

“Just the same amount as you do, I’m sure,” is all the ravenette bites back, seemingly bored of your interaction. He has no idea what his indifference does to you.

He will be your friend whether he wants to be or not.

“I have plenty of friends, just so you know.”

“Ah yes, I see them coming in and out of your apartment every day. You’re quite popular, no?”

That handsome asshole got you there.

You hide your hands behind your back, concealing the way your fingers clench into fists, “You’re one to talk. You have a line up and down this hallway just as often as I do.”

The corner of his lips twitch, and you feel victorious. Until his pout parts and he says, “Take a number, then.”

Shit. Your eyes narrow. Think of something witty, and fast, “Your hair looks stupid.”

Silence is a complimentary word for the total lack of noise following your words. Not like a period, but a dark, long comma. A semicolon, even. Just without the other sentence.

You didn’t mean to insult the only person who’s held a conversation with you past three broken sentences in who knows how long. You just couldn’t think of anything else to say. Immediately, you want to apologize. Your lips move to speak again, to recant your statement, but his move faster.

“So does yours. Do you even own a mirror?”

“Mature,” you hiss, your grin finally deflated.

“Says the one who insulted my hair. You’ve got a real funny way of making friends.”

“So, we can be friends then?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You can practically see the sparks flying between the glare you send each other. Like a taut electrical string between your pupils.

You cross your arms over your chest, “What are you doing later?”

“Goodbye,” he huffs, locking his apartment door and swiftly turning into long strides away from you.

You let the ravenette stalk away, even though you didn’t learn his name. You push back your scowl, and roll your shoulders. Maybe you’ll get another chance to learn it, you are neighbors after all.

You steal a glance at the top of his head as he disappears down the descending stairwell. His hair isn’t stupid at all. He’s quite a looker, honestly.

Grumpy, yes. Handsome, yes. Your friend? Not quite. But you hold on strong to hope.

You deem your interaction a success, even if it really was a failure, and relax your body. You wait a few minutes in front of your door, debating if it’s too early to head over to your job interview. It’s — you tug your phone out of your back pocket, gazing down at the bright white numbers — about two hours before your first interview. Yeah, a little too early.

You’re out the entrance doors of your apartment building, and decide that maybe it’s about time you finally tried out that cafe you’ve been watching this entire week. It looks just as pretty up close as you cross the street, the morning crowd of coffee goers and workaholics lining the outdoor patio space. They don’t send you any dirty looks when you walk through the open glass entryway, nor do they spare you any attention as you wait your turn in the fast moving line at the counter.

Now, there’s one phrase you know in French. You’ve studied it off multiple translation websites, written it over and over in your planner. You feel confident when it’s your turn to order.

“Je peux avoir un café glacé, s'il vous plaît?” you try your best at the accent, and hope it translates over well.

(Can I have an iced coffee, please?)

It does, and the barista nods, waving you over to the side. You step out of line, patiently awaiting your order to be called. Or, until you recognize it. You really only know three words of that sentence well enough. Iced, coffee, please.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You almost tune out the perfect English, too immersed in the magnificent sight of the artform that is coffee making. Almost miss the unmistakable monotone voice of your neighbor. But you don’t, and you spin too fast on your heels to face him, nearly stumbling.

Your smile beams, “Hey, long time no see!”

“Are you following me now?” he sneers, rolling his eyes.

“No,” your eyebrow arches, your tone defensive. “You come here every morning?”

“Well, it is a cafe,” the ravenette deadpans, crossing his arms.

“That wasn’t a no.”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“That’s fine. You can order plenty of other things at a cafe.”

“Can you now? That’s incredible. You own the place?”

“Yeah, isn’t it obvious by the way I paid for my drink and I’m waiting in line?”

“You’ve got a smart mouth, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk.”

Is this how every meeting is going to go? This was one hell of a way to make a friend. Third time’s the charm though, right?

“What’d you order?” here it goes, another stab at pleasant conversation.

“A ‘fuck-off’ chai.”

“Wow, iced or hot?”

“You’re a fucking pest.”

You hold back your smirk, and your coffee order is called in those two words you’ve studied until your eyes have run dry. You ignore your neighbor’s insult and thank the disappearing barista stuck behind the counter, pretty sure he curses a response back at you in French.

“See ya’ around, neighbor!” you call out, bright and bubbly, without glancing back to see his expression.

He doesn’t return any parting words, and even if he had you wouldn’t have heard them. You’re too busy taking in the bustling scenery as you leave the cafe, the street now lined with bodies and cars. You take a tentative sip of your coffee, and purse your lips. Not bad. But definitely not sweet enough for your tastebuds. You usually add about a pound of sugar to your brew, but you think you can get used to the slightly bitter aftertaste that lingers on your tongue.

Your first job interview of the day goes surprisingly well. A small grocery store only a few blocks away from your apartment, filled with mostly essentials like locally baked bread and farm picked eggs. It’s all local, which might explain the high prices and the fact you’ve have yet to visit this store. The manager is kind and patient with you as you stubble over broken English and French conversations, both of you laughing away the awkwardness of the language barrier. It’s pleasant, uplifting, and you think even if you don’t land this job maybe the manager will give you a call to hang out sometime. It’s wishful thinking, but hey, anything can happen.

You have two more lined up, and on your way to your second interview — a receptionist position at a bank, when did you apply for this one? — you realize that the first interview had bled exceedingly too long, and you’re late. You show up at the corporation with little to no breath from your brisk walk and about ten minutes late. They don’t take you back for your interview because of this.

You scratch out the name of the bank in your planner, and go forward.

You think you do well enough in your third. A janitorial position at a children’s school. You’ll take anything at this point. And if nothing else, you don’t need to speak another language to mop floors.

By five o’clock you’ve ran all over the city and now you’re left with the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. The train station is more packed than usual, it’s Friday and you’ve caught the ‘getting home from work’ rush hour. You can’t help but feel proud and accomplished standing alongside the sea of suited strangers, even if they look dead in the eyes and they’re eerily silent. You imagine you sort of look the same.

You stand on the ride back to your part of town, a grocery bag in hand. You remembered before you left your first interview of how bare your shelves looked, and thinking about your grump neighbor, you had concocted a full proof plan. The ingredients are a tad overpriced, but you hope that the cost will lead to stellar quality as a result. You cross the fingers holding the bag. You hope you get this job.

Loud doors, squeaky staircase, heavy footsteps, slamming of your front door and the click of a lock. You are home. Your unmade bed looks very tempting as you cross your living room, on route to your kitchen, but you will yourself not to abandon your grocery bag to run face first into the mattress. That wouldn’t be very responsible of you, and you’re really looking forward to celebrating in the form of a nutritious dinner and a relaxing baking session.

It’s simple, but soup can fill your stomach for a couple of days while you wait to hear back from your potential bosses. Not to mention it’s easy to make and there’s thousands of recipes online for each kind of flavor. You’re satisfied with the result, the broth and floating vegetables much welcomed to your rumbling tummy. You hand wash your dishes, and then place your hands on your hips, a toothy grin set on your expression.

You’re going to fucking crush these cupcakes. They will be the best dessert you have ever made.

You keep this attitude as you set out all your supplies and preheat your oven. It’s only until you’re mixing your powders in your bowl that you realize you forgot one crucial ingredient.

You forgot sugar.

“How could you?” you hiss at yourself, betrayed by your own one track minded brain.

Maybe your neighbor will have some. Yeah, what a brilliant idea.

At least it was. You’ve now been waiting for ten unwavering minutes outside his front door. You’ve knocked twice. You hear no sounds, no sign of movement. You don’t see any light pour from underneath the small gap of space at the bottom of the entryway either. Nothing.

Fuck. You really needed that sugar.

“Okay, I’ll try next door,” your voice sounds shaky. You’re terrified of your other neighbor. An old woman, cranky and bitter. At least the raven haired asshole was funny about it. She wasn’t.

You had only conversed with her once, on the day you moved in. You had smiled her way, big and friendly. She had turned her nose up, muttering something indistinguishable under her breath, and practically ran inside to avoid any and all further interaction with you. You remember sighing wistfully, finding her charming.

Every time you’ve caught a glimpse of her since then, she’s flipped you the bird and slammed her front door behind her.

Now you find her frightening and mean.

Still, you knock, and you’re trembling in your sneakers when she opens the door. Her face falls, and she quirks an eyebrow.

“Sorry for bothering you,” you start off slowly. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Du sucre?” she exasperates, and you nearly scream in excitement. You know what she’s saying.

(Sugar?)

“Yes! Du sucre!” you’re completely unaware of how contagious your smile is.

“Oui. You owe me, fille ennuyeuse,” she sighs, letting her expression smooth over. “Wait here.”

(Yes — annoying girl.)

The elderly woman leaves her apartment door wide open, and you impatiently await her return as she scurries into the depths of her dwelling. It’s nice, pretty on brand to what you imagine an old person’s apartment to look like. Her furniture looks ancient, covered in thick plastic wrapping to preserve the materials. Though, you don’t know how much it’s actually helping, even from your view you can see the discoloration of use. You wouldn’t call her space cluttered, as it’s all organized nice and neatly, but there sure are a lot of things. Picture frames cover the wallpapers, portraits collected over decades. You hope her grandchildren visit her often, as you can see how much she adores them simply from the sheer amount of photos she has.

She returns with a bag of half used sugar, shrugging and shoving the spice towards you, “Don’t worry about returning. It can do.”

You think she’s trying hard to speak to you in her broken English, and you’re nearly moved to tears. She slams the door in your face before you can thank her.

Back in your own kitchen, disaster ridden from your baking adventure, you swipe your forehead with the back of your flour stained hand. This is the first time you’ve baked anything from scratch, and you hope it turns out okay. The cupcakes are cooling on the stove as you prepare your piping bag — a plastic ziplock baggie with a frosting tip shoved at the end. It’ll do the job, you think.

Twelve pale yellow cupcakes stare back at you tauntingly. You know mixing the cake would be the easiest part, but getting the perfect sponge to icing ratio is a challenge even for the pros. You crack your knuckles.

You got this.

It takes a painful hour, but you complete the desserts. The presentation has to be perfect, has to look like the cakes are ready to be displayed in front of the many bakeries and cafes that you pass by every day.

You’re going to gift them all to your neighbors, after all. You will worm your way into their hearts, and stomachs, as if it’s the last attempt you have.

Especially that handsome jerk. You want to floor him and forever flip his frown upside down. Even if it’s kinda cute when he scowls.

You fall asleep on your couch, still covered in dry ingredients and wearing your sneakers. At least you remembered to turn off the stove.

LACHERI © 2021: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations.

taglist:

@ryukatters @misslovingpearl @resonancesoul @notgoodforlife @asilentshout @eripeachy

[ijustwant2write]

Bad Boy-John Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @markshade​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi do you think u can do a John Shelby imagine where they are dating and y/n is a good innocent girl but freaky with John and her parents want to Him over for dinner John wants to piss off her dad cause he’s not a fan of the blinders and does subtle things to annoy him like touching y/n at the end of the night when they are saying goodbye at his car they have a heated make out sesh and John knows her dad is looking through the window so spices it up a bit . ❤️’

Characters: John Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Smut from the start (unsafe sex!), dirty talk, swearing, arguing, mentions of violence and death, fluff

(A/N: Amelia and Henry are made up characters)

                                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I clamped my hand over my mouth tightly, struggling to keep in the whimpers and moans as John continuously thrusted into me. However, the boxes I was perched on were full of bottles of beer, causing them to clang against each other.We were in the stock room of the Garrison, luckily having the music, singing and loud chatter drowning out the noise we were creating. John’s hands gripped at the skin around my hips, that cocky smirk on his face that I loved so much. For some reason, an idea popped into my head, and in the state of euphoria I was in just made me say it out loud.

“John...” was all I managed to breath out at first.

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” he instructed.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

He suddenly stopped, making me realise it wasn’t the best time to bring that up.“You what?”

We were both heavily breathing.“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that just then.”

He scoffed, sighing as he slid out of me.“Well, that’s finished with.”

“I’m sorry! They want to meet you. They know who you are, but they want to try and treat this like they did with my sister.”

“You sure you want that? Remember what you told me when they first found out about us?”

I rolled my eyes, hitching up my stocking as he did up his trousers.“It was their idea, not mine.”

“You don’t want me meeting them?”

“Of course I do, I just-” I caught him trying to hide a laugh, he was winding me up.“You’re such a little shit.”

He stood in between my legs again, hands on my thighs before I could push my skirt down.“Well, if I have been summoned by the Lord (Y/L/N)-”

“Oh my god,” I threw my head back as I laughed in frustration,“would you stop calling him that! I’m the same class as you.”

“What have I always said?”

I shrugged my shoulders, but knew what he was referring to.

“You were always meant to be a fucking princess, Princess (Y/N) of Birmingham.”

I laughed at him.“Oh shut up! Are you coming to dinner or not?”

“If you ask me nicely.”

“And how do I do that?”

“By finishing what we started.”

John and I had been together for a few months now, much to my parents dismay. It had started as a drunk one night stand; we were both at the Garrison, and seemingly chose each other for the night. However, when you’re young, poor and living in Small Heath, there aren’t a lot of places to go out, so me and my friends went to the Garrison all the time. This meant I also saw John again....and again....and again, and again. We slept we each other maybe three more times before wondering if this could become a thing; from there onwards, we found out more about each other, and he brought out a side of me I had been hiding, also wanting to release.

On the day of the dinner, I wanted to see John before he arrived. I lied to my mum, saying we had no bread (which I had hidden away), and practically running out of the house to ‘buy’ some. I told John what time to be at mine, also lying to make him leave earlier so I could meet him halfway. In the bakery, I threw the money onto the counter after picking up a loaf of bread, speedily walking away as I prayed I would run into John. Luck was on my side as I spotted him, already heading in the direction of my home.

“John!” I shouted, the whole street now looking at me as I sprinted past them. 

He whipped around at the noise, hand hovering over where his gun would be. When he saw me, he didn’t relax, wondering why I was yelling his name and running like a mad man.

“I’m so glad I caught you.” I struggled to say, out of breath.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he panicked.

“No, no I’m fine. I’m a terrible runner though.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Bread.” I said, holding up the loaf as evidence.“And also, to see you.”

“I was just leaving.”

“Yes, I can see that. I just wanted to go over some rules.”

“Rules? Oh come on (Y/N)-”

“No, listen to me.” I held up the bread instead of pointing my finger at him.“I love you. I always take your side for everything. We both know my parents don’t like this, but seeing as I am a grown woman, they don’t do anything to stop me. So just for today, we’re going to abide to their rules.”

He rolled his eyes.“Right, so I’ve got to be the uptight prat that your parents want you to be with?”

“They know what you’re like already, and even if they didn’t, they would be able to see through that act. Just let my dad be my dad.”

“If he says something fucking offensive, I’m not going to stay quiet!”

“Fine, then be political about it. Don’t shout at each other, try to make small talk, but no talking about guns, violence, killing-”

“Alright, are you going to go?”

“Sorry. I just want this to be easy. I hate seeing you stressed. I love you.”

He held my hand, starting to walk.“Yeah, yeah. Come on, I’ve got the car parked up in the garage.”

I hated that he hadn’t sent it back, but I understood why he was being like this. I was making him be someone he wasn’t. I loved John as a person, however, I couldn’t be dealing with a screaming match between him and my family.

“John, I do love you.” I said after a few minutes of walking.

“I know. I love you too.” he eventually smiled.“Just want you all to myself now, you know? We wouldn’t have to be dealing with this.”

“Soon darling. We’ll get that house soon enough. Oh, I’ve just remembered something else!”

“Rule number...I’ve lost count, maybe one hundred?”

“No inappropriate stuff. No touching, kissing, being sneaky, nothing!”

“That’s going to be incredibly hard. Especially with that dress.” 

Once we made it to my house, I gave him a quick kiss on the lips before getting out of the car. Opening the front door. I called out to my parents, hearing them reply from the front room. I told John to remove his coat whilst I rushed into the kitchen with the bread, carelessly chucking it on the side before getting back to him. I saw a hint of nerves in his eyes, though his pride covered it. Taking his hand in mine, I guided us to my family, surprised to see who was sitting with them.

“Amelia? What are you doing here? And with Henry?” I asked.

“Well, Henry would happen to be here with me because he’s my husband. I’m sure you remember being at the wedding.” she quipped.

“I don’t remember the boring days of my life. Not worth it.”

“(Y/N).” mum warned.

“Anyway,” I looked up at John,“I would like you to all meet John Shelby. We’ve been seeing each other for quite some time and-”

“We know who he is.” dad sighed, not even bothering to stand from his seat. 

“You’re the ones who invited him over. It would be nice of you to greet him properly.”

Dad stood slowly, making his way towards us, making me think he was getting up to shake John’s hand. Instead he just stopped, not looking either of us in the eye.

“I need a drink.”

He broke us apart by walking through us, mum timidly following. I felt like swearing and screaming. It was their idea. They wanted to meet him but then they were being like this. I sent an apologetic smile to John as we sat down.

“So,” I thought I would try and make conversation,“John, this is my sister Amelia and her husband Henry. She used to live here but she moved away a few years ago.”

“Had to find a better area, you know? Safer for the children we were planning for.” Amelia smugly smiled.

“Such a saint is my sister.”

“It’s like Mary and Joseph.” John chuckled, causing me to laugh.

“Well that would make you Judas and...and whoever he was with then, wouldn’t it?” Amelia desperately tried.

“Nice one Amelia. Don’t think too hard next time, yeah?”

Before she could snap back, mum called us to the dinner table. I realised we would all be squashed around it, seeing as only four people could usually fit there. I made sure John was sat beside me, Amelia and Henry opposite us and my parents at either head of the table. Our knees were almost touching we were that close. Dinner started silent, everyone tucking into the small meal. We were poor, we never had a lot to eat; which was why I was surprised that Amelia was here, there were now three more mouths to feed, not just John. But I knew why she was really here. Amelia had done what our parents wanted, found a good man who could provide her with the bare necessities and keep her out of trouble. They wanted me to reflect on who I was in love with, try to change my mind. Wasn’t going to happen.

“So what is it you actually do?” Henry asked. I was unsure if it was supposed to be malicious or whether he was actually curious.

“Work in the betting shop.” John answered.

“Yeah, but, you know, on the side.”

“Henry, we don’t want to get involved.” Amelia scolded him.

“Just because you’ve graced me with your presence, that doesn’t mean you’re on some sort of hit list.”

“No, but my sister is.��

“Amelia, shut up.” I snapped.

“No, she’s right.” John said, causing me to whip my head round to him. He went against my instructions, placing his hand on my thigh.“But I wouldn’t let anyone hurt my girl. They would be dead before they even thought about it.”

Although I had told him to not talk of such things or stoop to my families level, my heart melted at the (somewhat morbid) statement.

“Am I hearing this right?” mum laughed, but their was no humour behind it.

“Mum, try to not get upset.” Amelia held her hand.

Now it was my turn to laugh.“Oh my god.” Everyone looked at me, John was smirking whilst the others were frowning.“You’re such a hypocrite.”

“What?”

“You were sneaking out all the time, seeing different boys every weekend. What makes you so much better than me?”

“I’m not with a criminal.”

“All of you stop it!” dad exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table.“And get your fucking hand off my daughter.”

Amelia tutted.“Henry would never-”

“You and Henry were fucking upstairs before dinner when he came round the first time!” I butted in.

“Sounds like a good time to me.” John mumbled under his breath.

“How dare you?!” mum was shocked.

“I knew this was a stupid idea. Get out, now!”

“With pleasure.” John stood, grabbing my hand.

I quickly left with him, grabbing the key off the counter and locking the door behind me. It made me laugh hearing their shouts of protest and banging on the door. We rushed to the car, scared that they would somehow break down the door. John leaned me back against it, hands sliding down the side of my body and gripping my arse. He knew what he was doing, especially since my family now had their faces pressed against the window.

“Well, that was...quick.” I giggled.

“Yeah, you’re not used to that.” John joked.

“You have to make it all about sex, don’t you?”

“(Y/N), I don’t give a fuck about what they think, and neither do you. As soon as I get this bit of business sorted with Tom and Arthur, I’m buying that house and you are moving in with me. Then we’ll get married straight away-”

“I hope this isn’t your proposal.”

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got something big planned for that.”

He leaned down to kiss me, gripping onto my arse firmly. As he deepened the kiss, adding tongues, he forced his knee between my legs, and I subconsciously started rubbing against it, only subtly. I made sure he stayed close by pulling him in by his coat. The neighbours would surely be watching, it was a small street, which would drive my parents insane. This only fuelled something in me, and I wanted to keep going. 

“I suggest we take this somewhere more private. Like, right now.” John breathlessly said.

I frantically nodded, and we both headed for opposite sides of the car, until I saw I still had the key in my hand. Hurriedly making my way back to the door, I ignored my family who had now managed to open the windows, screaming at me as I posted the key through the letter box. Running as fast as I could back to the car, I felt the adrenaline rush through me, giggling like a maniac at the thought of my parents catching me. Slamming the door shut as I jumped in the car, John floored it, and we looked like we escaped from an insane asylum as we laughed.

I stuck my head out of the car and screamed,“I fucking love you John Shelby!”

He pulled me back in by my dress, squeezing my thigh once I sat down.“I love you too, you fucking maniac.”

“I don’t think I’ll be allowed back there, you know.”

“Good thing you’re staying with me then.”

“You sure you’re ready for all of this?”

“I’ve been ready since I laid eyes on your face...and those tits, and that arse-”

“You make it seem like you’re only in it for my body.”

“Nah, that’s the ultimate bonus though. I already said it, but once you’re with me, I protect you and love you. You’re mine.”

“And you’re mine. Make sure to do your coat up before you get out the car, it’s a bit obvious down there.”

[simplee-dreaming]

The Runner (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

A/N: THIS IS MY 50TH FIC WTF!! Ngl I'm not so confident about this one but that's just my anxiety being a demon. I hope you all like it.

Word count: 3823

Summary: With Darren being on the warpath, Chris takes great care of the reader...along with some friends.

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

The next day you walked into work with a big smile on your face. Last night you shared food with Chris Evans, watched a film with Chris Evans, got into a tickle fight with Chris Evans and ended up being cuddled by Chris Evans. You were certainly on cloud nine right now.

“Black coffee for Mr Evans please! Black coffee!” a call came over the radio. You strode into the kitchen to make it but found another runner already on the case.

“Nevermind,” you thought to yourself. There’s no way you were gonna go the whole of today without seeing him anyway.

You turned on your heel to leave but walked straight into Darren.

“Oh, um, sorry, I-I didn’t see you there,” you stuttered.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said, sternly.

“Sorry,” you repeated.

“There’s a mess on the set, you need to clean it up before the next scene begins shooting,” he demanded. You looked at him.

“But, I’m not a cleaner?” You said, puzzled.

“You were perfectly happy to clean the set a few weeks back,” he said.

“Well yeah but-”

“No excuses, clean up that mess now,” he interrupted, marching out of the kitchen. You sighed but decided not to argue.

You went onto the set and helped the cleaners with the mess.

A few hours had passed and you were sitting on set filling out an accident form. Apparently, Sebastian Stan had slipped on set whilst filming and managed to cut his hand. Only a tiny cut, but any accident has to be filed. Unfortunately, you didn’t get to sit with Seb and fill it out but was given the details by his assistant, Jane.

You got up and walked into the set office, where all the paperwork was kept, and filed away the accident form. When you walked back onto the set, Darren was standing there staring at you. He lifted up his hand and ordered you to go over to him. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him.

“So what exactly did you do to clean the set earlier today?” He asked.

“I...I swept up the debris. I just cleared the mess,” you replied.

“You cleaned the floor, didn’t you?”

“I cleared it yeah but I-”

“You cleaned the floor and left it in a slippery state. No wonder Mr Stan slipped over,”

“No, but, I..I just cleared it! I never-”

“He could have broken a bone,”

“I didn’t clean it, I only swept!” You protested. Darren grunted at you and walked off, leaving you feeling deflated.

The rest of the day you were silent. You didn’t dare speak to anyone in case they thought the same as Darren. When your lunch break finally came around, you walked outside to the back of the studios and sat in a quiet corner where all you could hear was the wind sweeping through the trees and the birds singing. You finished your lunch in silence, a single tear escaping from your eye.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” said a familiar voice. You looked up to see Chris walking towards you. A smile involuntarily grew on your lips.

“Oh, hey!” You said, quickly wiping away the tear.

“What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He asked, sitting on the bench next to you.

“No. No, I’m fine,” you replied.

“You have been crying. What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,”

“No you’re not,”

“Yes I am, I promise. I’m fine,” you said, a little too quickly. Chris gently put his hand on top of yours.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly. You looked at him, then looked down and burst into tears. He pulled you in for a tight cuddle.

“It’s all my fault,” you sobbed into his chest.

“What is?” he asked.

“Seb. I made Seb slip. He’s hurt because of me,” you cried.

“Wait, what are you talking about?” Chris asked, rubbing your arm.

“I cleaned the set earlier, I must’ve put something down because Seb slipped and cut himself and it’s my fault,”

“Seb didn’t slip?” Chris said, confused.

“What?”

“Seb didn’t slip, he tripped and fell over. That’s how he cut his hand, he grabbed onto a bit of the set for support and caught a sharp edge. He never slipped,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“So...so it wasn’t me?” You asked.

“Of course not, he’s just a clumsy idiot. The floor wasn’t slippery at all. Plus, he’s fine. Just got a big boy plaster on,” he chuckled.

“But...but Darren said-”

“What did Darren say?” Chris asked, more seriously.

“Darren said Seb slipped. And that it was my fault because I cleaned the set earlier but I didn’t remember actually putting any product down to clean and I thought I only swept the set which it seems is all I did and-”

“Whoa whoa whoa, breathe. Darren told you this was your fault?” Chris asked. You nodded.

“Right, I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, standing up.

“No no please, he already hates me. If you say something then he’ll know I told on him and he’ll be even worse,” you begged.

“Y/N, he cannot treat you like this,”

“It’s fine, I can handle it,” you lied.

“He made you cry, Y/N. That is not okay. I’m going to speak to him,” Chris said. He walked off and you ran after him. When you turned the corner, you both ran straight into Seb.

“Whoa Speedy Gonzales, slow down!” Seb said, catching you as you tripped over Chris’ foot.

“S-sorry,” you said. You looked up and suddenly registered who was in front of you.

“Oh god. Oh I’m so sorry, Mr Stan, I didn’t mean to-”

“Y/N, calm down, it’s okay,” Chris said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up at him and took a few deep breaths.

“Ohh so you’re Y/N. Chris has been telling me all about you, it’s nice to put a face to a name,” Seb said, smiling at you. You gave a shaky smile back. He looked at Chris.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see my assistant,” Chris said, sternly.

“Ah yes, ‘Divine Darren’,” Seb said, sarcastically. “More like Distasteful Darren.”

“Well, quite. He’s been so unpleasant to Y/N, so I’m going to talk to him,” Chris said, he sounded very angry.

“Chris please, it will only make things worse,” you begged. Seb looked at your worried face and looked back at Chris.

“I think she’s right, Chris. At least wait a little bit until you’re calmer. Then I’ll come and back you up,” Seb said. Chris let out a sigh then looked at you. His face softened.

“Okay. But he’s not going to get away with this,” Chris said. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good lad,” Seb said, patting Chris’ shoulder. He then turned to you.

“So, you’re the reason our Chris was so chirpy this morning, eh?” He said. You blushed.

“W-well...I...um…” you stammered. What had Chris told Seb?

“Seb…” Chris warned.

“What? I’ve gotta be polite to your new tickle attacker!” Seb said.

“SEB!” Chris cried.

“Chris told me you used his weakness against him last night. Nice to have you on board Y/N,” Seb winked at you. You let out a nervous giggle, praying that Chris didn’t tell Seb that you shared the same weakness.

“Although, it seems you may struggle more. We can’t have someone who is equally as ticklish on the front line until he’s not strong enough to retaliate,” Seb said. He winked at you again and smirked.

Fuck. He knew.

“Anyway, gotta get ready for my next scene. Catch you both later,” Seb waved goodbye and walked off.

You turned to Chris and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?!” He exclaimed.

“You told him?” You asked.

“Ohh...yeah...yeah I did,” he said, giggling. You punched him again.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I just had a great night last night and couldn’t keep my mouth shut,” he said. You couldn’t help but smile.

“So did I,” you replied. He chuckled and pulled you in for a hug. You relaxed in his arms until he squeezed your side.

“Hey!” You yelped.

“That was for punching me,” he said.

You sighed and walked back into the studios with him, ready to get back to work.

The day finally came to a close. Scenes were wrapping up shooting and members of the crew were packing up to go home. You had purposefully been avoiding Darren all day, terrified of what he may try and do next.

Chris has invited you to his caravan again for another movie night, so you decided to quickly clean up the kitchen area before you clocked out. You took the half-filled jug of coffee out of its hold and turned to pour it down the sink. But, as you turned, someone knocked into the back of you and you dropped the jug which smashed all over the floor.

“What the hell are you playing at?!” Yelled Darren from behind you. You swiftly turned around.

No words came out of your mouth, just incoherent babbling.

“Look at what you’ve done! You’ve smashed the bloody jug you blundering idiot!” He yelled. You took a step backwards and slipped slightly on the spilt coffee, you held the kitchen side for support as tears leaked down your face.

“I-I didn’t mean….I never meant to...it was an accident!” You cried.

“You did that on purpose. You’ve been messing about ever since you started here. Have you any idea the damage you’ve caused?!”

You burst into tears, frightened of the man standing before you.

“Hey hey, back off!” A voice said behind Darren. He turned around slightly and there stood Scarlett and Lizzie, both with their arms folded.

“Did you see what she did? She broke the coffee jug!” Darren exclaimed, gesturing at you.

“Then buy another one,” Scarlett said, shrugging.

“Better yet, buy another one secretly and we won’t tell anyone that you purposely fell into her,” Lizzie said.

“What? I never fell into her! Stupid girl tripped over,” he said, a wobble in his voice. Both women titled their heads and raised their eyebrows at the same time.

“She dropped it all by herself! She’s caused nothing but havoc since she started,” he tried to explain but the girls were having none of it.

“Grrr. Out of my way,” Darren huffed. He pushed past Scarlett and Lizzie and marched off.

“Hey, are you okay?” Lizzie asked, approaching you. You shook your head and burst into tears. Lizzie drew you in for a hug.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Scarlett asked.

“Y/N,” you responded, quietly.

“Oh goodness, you’re Y/N! Chris has mentioned you a few times today. He’s waiting for you, we'll take you to him,” said Lizzie.

“B-but the mess…” you stammered.

“Leave it, we’ll clean it up,” Scarlett said.

She and Lizzie each put an arm around you and guided you away from the kitchen. Chris was standing at the back of the studios, near the caravan park. His posture straightened up when he saw you, but his face grew more concerned as you approached.

“Oh my god, are you okay Y/N? What happened?” He asked. Scarlett looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

“No. No no. This wasn’t Darren again was it?!” He said, his voice getting louder. “Where is he? I’ll kill him!”

“Chris, he’s probably gone home by now,” Lizzie said. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“That little….he has no right treating you like his,” he said. You tilted your head down. He drew in a deep breath and took you from Scar and Lizzie, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he said, stroking your hair. You cried into his shoulders and hugged him tightly.

“Tell you what, Seb’s using the green room to relax in for a bit this evening. Shall we go and join him?” He asked.

“Will he mind?” You replied, lifting your head slightly.

“Not at all! We could have a group film night if you’re both up for it too?” Chris asked. Scarlett and Lizzie nodded. Chris put his arm around you and all four of you walked to the green room.

“Knock knock,” said Chris, entering the room. Seb was sat on the sofa, scrolling through Netflix.

“Hey man, how’s it going?” Seb asked, turning to greet you all. “Ooh more guests, this is exciting. What’s the occasion?”

“Another incident happened. We thought we could join you and watch a movie together?” Chris said.

“Why of course! The more the merrier!” Seb said. He shuffled up a bit on the sofa and Chris placed you between himself and Seb.

“I’m gonna go grab some food. Do you two mind helping me?” Chris said, gesturing at Lizzie and Scarlett. They both followed him out and into the kitchen area. Coffee and bits of jug were still splattered on the floor so Lizzie bent down to start cleaning it up.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

“Y/N was cleaning this area. She went to wash out the coffee jug and Darren purposely bumped into her so she dropped the jug and he had a proper go at her. She was terrified,” Scar informed him. He hung his head.

“I can’t let him get away with treating her like that,” he responded.

“Well, what are you gonna do?” Lizzie asked, sweeping the floor.

“I don’t know yet. But he’s not getting away lightly,” Chris said. “Do you think she’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s just putting on a brave face,” Scarlett said.

Chris, Scarlett and Lizzie finished cleaning the kitchen and grabbed some bags of popcorn to take back to the room. When they returned, they found you leaning forwards with your head in your hands and Seb rubbing your back.

“What’s happened??” Chris asked. He put down the popcorn and sat next to you, putting his arm around you.

“She keeps saying everything that happened today is her fault. I’ve told her it isn’t but she’s pretty shook up,” Seb whispered softly.

“Oh Y/N. Nothing that has happened is your fault! We’ve been through this my lovely,” Chris said, gently.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you mumbled.

“What? Chris said.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you said, standing up from the sofa and heading for the door. Chris grabbed your arm.

“Whoa whoa whoa, steady on. Where are you going?”

“Darren was right. I have no right being here. I’m just a runner.”

Another tear fell down your face and Chris’ heart broke.

“Y/N, listen to me. Yes, you are a runner but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be here. Runners are an important asset to the studios, how else would I get my coffee?! Besides, you’re not just a runner. You’re incredible. You’re the first non-celebrity that hasn’t treated me like royalty and it’s a breath of fresh air,” Chris said. You looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Yes really! Don’t want you bowing down to kiss my feet, they’re not that great,” he said. You gave a shy giggle.

“Come here,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. You happily accepted and relaxed slightly in his arms.

“Now then you, we’re gonna have a great movie night, yes?” He asked, you nodded. “Good, but I want you to be happy before we start. Where’s that smile?”

He had a hint of playfulness in his voice. You knew what was coming but didn’t want to fight it, so you buried your head further into his chest.

“Come on...where is it?” He teased. He started poking up and down your sides and you squirmed.

You murmured a giggle into his chest as he continued to poke you.

“Where’s that smile?” He teased. You giggled louder as the pokes turned into squeezes.

“Chrihihihis!” You squealed, trying to twist out of his grip.

“Where are you going?” He asked, bending his head slightly to look at you. His hands squeezed your sides and tickled your ribs, making you squeal. You put your hands on Chris’ stomach to push him away but decided to tickle his tummy instead.

“Hehey!” He yelped, stepping backwards and releasing you from his grip. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“So that’s how you wanna play…” he said. The playful tone in his voice made you giggle but also kicked in the instinct to turn on your heel and run.

Bad move.

Chris lunged at you, as you turned, and picked you up - spinning you in the air before lying you flat on the sofa. You shrieked.

“No Chris!” You pleaded as he sat next to you, trapping you between him and the back of the sofa. He cackled evilly and started squeezing your sides again. You shrieked and kicked your legs out.

Seb, Lizzie and Scar all shared a smile as they watched Chris tease you.

“Show me that smile,” he teased once more. You were going bright red in the face and tried to bat his hands away, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

“Hey Chris, I think it may be in here,” Seb said. Before you realised what was about to happen, Seb had placed his fingers in the crook of your neck and started wiggling them.

“WAIHIHIHIT! You cried, not expecting Sebastian Stan to join in. You scrunched up your shoulders, trapping his hands in your neck, and shrieked.

“Wow, Chris, you’re right. She’s super ticklish!” He teased. Your face turned ruby red as you twisted and turned on the sofa.

“NOHO I’M NOHOHOT!” You cried.

“Oh yes you are,” Seb said. His hands trailed down to underneath you and started tickling your shoulder blades. The noise you made was different to any other you had ever made before.

“Whoa, I think you found a bad spot,” Chris laughed. He started squeezing and spider tickling your tummy and you let out a scream. You kicked your legs frantically as your arms waved around trying to stop the attacks.

“Girls, we need your help!” Seb said. Scarlett and Lizzie looked at each other and laughed. Scarlett got up and approached you.

She positioned herself next to Chris and gently fluttered her fingers over your kicking feet. No one had you pinned so you were free to twist and kick as much as you liked, but as soon as you twisted from one pair of hands you fell right into another.

“Does this tickle Y/N? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” Chris teased, now spider tickling your waistline.

“STOHOHOHP SAHAHAYING THAT!” You cried.

“Oh but you’re so fun to tease!” Chris said, laughing evilly.

Lizzie looked over at Chris and narrowed her eyes. Then, a thought hit her. She slowly crept up behind Chris before lunging at him, sitting on top of him so he was pinned to the floor. She wasted no time in shoving her hands under his armpits and wiggling her fingers.

“WHAHAHAT THE HEHEHELL?! AHAHAHAHA!” Chris yelled, taken aback by the sudden attack.

Seb and Scarlett instantly stopped tickling you so you could all watch the action unfold.

“Does this tickle Chris? Does it? Tickle tickle tickle!” She cooed, repeating his own teases. He thrashed below her and boomed out a laugh. You started giggling too.

“I’ve got him, Y/N. Come and get your own back,” she said, turning her head to wink at you. You jumped off the sofa and basically slid over to him.

“Do any of you know his worst spot?” You asked.

“His ears. Get the spot just behind the right one and flutter your fingers over the top of his left one and you’ll have him a babbling mess below you,” Seb said...a little too quickly.

You grinned at him. Lizzie stopped tickling but kept her hands positioned under his arms. You followed Seb’s instructions and, before you knew it, Chris was a babbling mess on the floor. A mix of squeals, giggles and high pitched laughs came out of him as he twisted his head from side to side. Every time he tried to lift his arms to stop you, Lizzie would tickle his armpits and he’d slam them back down again.

“Cootchie cootchie coo, Chris…” you teased. Your heart did somersaults at the sound of his precious laugh.

All of a sudden, Chris let out a booming laugh and jolted his body. You looked up and found Seb trapping one of Chris’ feet with one hand and using the other to scrape up and down his sole. Seb looked at you.

“His feet are his second worst,” he informed you.

You and Lizzie were too distracted by Seb tickling Chris’ foot that neither of you noticed him lifting up his arms. Because you were sitting right next to him, he managed to grab you and pull you over his torso. He held you close to him as his hand trailed up and down your back and sides. You shrieked loudly and bucked your body.

“CHRIHIHIHIS NOHOHOHO!” You cried.

Seb stopped tickling Chris and instead made a lunge for your foot, trapping it in the same way and raking his fingers up and down it. You burst into a loud laughter.

“Oh dear, we really are trapped now aren’t we?” Scarlett teased. She shoved her hands between you and Chris and started tickling both your tummies at the same time. You both shrieked loudly. Lizzie giggled and decided to join Chris in tickling your sides and back. Chris was giggling below you but you were screaming and shrieking before falling into a silent laughter. You hid your face in Chris’ torso and jolted your whole body. They all took this as the sign to stop.

You lay on top of Chris, getting your breath back. He was still giggling which made you giggle more.

“You okay?” He asked, now stroking your hair. You nodded and placed your head on his chest.

“You passed the initiation,” Seb said. You lifted your head and looked at him, brows furrowed.

“What?” You asked.

“You passed the initiation. You got through our torture without murdering us,” he laughed. You got off of Chris and sat on the floor, still giggling. Chris sat up too.

“You’re officially one of us now. That will never change,” he said, pulling you in for a cuddle. “And tomorrow, I promise, I will sort out this mess. Darren will never treat you so badly again, I promise.”

“Just don’t ever clean the set again,” Seb teased. You scoffed and playfully punched him, making him laugh.

Seb, Scarlett and Lizzie shuffled forward and all four cast members engulfed you in a massive hug. You felt so safe and secure, all of your worries left you for that evening.

Tomorrow is a new day.

[missymurphy1985]

Nobody's Perfect (part7)

Will Liane crash the wedding?

Warning - angst / injury

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers

You woke in Cillian's childhood bedroom to the sound of his alarm going off. Fortunately he had a double bed, even though the way the two of you curled into each other, a single would've been fine.

"Morning beautiful lady..." He always woke you up like that, with a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Morning handsome. How you feeling about your baby sister getting married?"

"Weird. She's still 7 in my head. It's really odd!"

"She was telling me about her dress last night, it sounds beautiful."

"I'm sure it will be. Come on, me mother will be downstairs already fretting and I'm gonna be kicked out in 30minutes so you women can do whatever it is you women do before a wedding..."

"Am I not coming with you?"

"Nope. I'm going to be with the other groomsmen making sure Damien doesn't do a runner."

You laughed and dragged yourselves out of bed to get ready.

You'd arrived at the venue with 5 minutes to spare. Everyone, including Cillian, would be inside waiting for the bride. You headed into the toilets to touch your lipstick up before heading inside to wait yourself. Walking in, you noticed a blond woman doing the same as you. You smiled warmly, but she didn't return it. Not everyone in his family is as friendly as the others, clearly.

Thinking no more of it, you applied your lipstick and headed back to the wedding. Spotting Cillian at the front adjusting Damien's cravat, your heart soared. He looked incredible in his navy blue groomsman suit, combined with an ivory shirt and red rose boutonnière. His Peaky haircut only added to the attraction.

Silé and her father entered the room as A Thousand Years by Christina Perri played softly on the piano in the corner. You couldn't help but watch Cillian as he winked at his sister walking towards him and Damien at the altar. He wasn't just a groomsman, he was the best man. And what a best man he was. He nudged Damien, and he turned round, tears in his eyes as he watched his soon-to-be wife approach him. Cillian caught your eye and he smiled.

The ceremony over, it was time for drinks on the large patio area outside. You were stood talking to Cillian's youngest sister Orla when two hands wrapped themselves round your waist, and a pair of lips on your neck.

"Hey beautiful..." Orla made a vomit face, making you laugh as you turned and faced him.

"My word Mr Murphy, don't you scrub up well?"

"Not so bad yourself there." He held you at arms length, admiring the floor length light blue summer dress you'd chosen.

"Does this mean there's going to be an epic best man's speech from you then?"

"Yep. Had it written for months. Plan on embarrassing the shit out my little sister - perfect revenge for the stories I'm sure she told you last night." He smirked.

You were sat next to Cillian's other siblings at the wedding breakfast - there was a seat spare anyway - this wedding was three years in the planning, that seat would have been Liane's when it was put together. Silé had left it empty on the off chance her brother would find someone. Eventually, the time came for Cillian's speech. He took the microphone, and stood. Starting with the obligatory thanking everyone for coming, before cracking jokes about how he used to play practical jokes on his sister, and how he'd set her up on a blind date with Damien six years earlier. Liane got a mention - only to say that Damien setting him up with his sister 6 years earlier than that hadn't exactly gone to plan.

"I've only just forgiven you for that," he smiled, earning a laugh from the crowd. He made eye contact with you, and was about to speak before a voice from the back of the room interrupted him.

"Wasn't all that bad now, was it Cillian?" The room fell silent, you saw Cillian's face turn white as a sheet. Turning round, you saw the blond lady from the toilets earlier... It couldn't be...

"Can't have all been bad, you married me after 6 months of dating, didn't you?" Cillian cleared his throat, determined not to ruin his sister's wedding day.

"Liane, come on.." Orla took her shoulder and tried to walk her out of the room, but she was shoved violently away and hit the floor. Cillian had seen enough at that point and made his way over, pulling Orla off the floor and glaring at Liane.

"You need to leave, now, before I make you leave.." he seethed.

"Doesn't 12 years of marriage mean anything to you?!"

"Liane this is my sister's wedding day! We're not doing this now!"

"And who's this little slut you've brought with you, huh?" She turned to you, glaring as she made her way over. You were frozen to your seat as she picked up a wine glass and smashed it off the side of the table. Cillian shouted for someone to call the police as he grabbed her from behind and pulled her backwards onto a table. He managed to pin her to the floor, holding her hands up, writhing against him trying to get at you.

"Can someone take over.." he groaned, as Padraig grabbed her arms, another man had her legs. Cillian stumbled backwards, and you saw him clutch at his abdomen, blood on his hands and over his shirt. It was then you realised she wasn't holding the glass anymore..

"Someone call an ambulance!"

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

You'd been waiting at the hospital for hours. As soon as he'd arrived he'd gone straight in for surgery. You'd gone in the ambulance with him, his mum and dad followed in the car. Everyone else stayed to give the police statements after Liane had been arrested.

His mum was holding your hand in the private room when the doctor finally came in.

"We managed to get all the glass shards out, and stitched him up. It went deep - a few centimetres to the left and she would have hit an artery. He'll need to stay for a couple of days so we can keep an eye on him, but he's awake now. He's asking for y/n?" His mum squeezed your hand. The doctor led you through to his room and you took a breath before going in. He was lying on the bed, wires in his arms and a sleepy look in his eyes, but he still shot you a smile.

"Feels like I'm filming 28 Days Later all over again," he smirked.

"You scared the shit out of me Cill..." The tears finally fell, you'd held them back up to this point but you couldn't stop them now. You sat next to his bed and held his hand, sobbing into it as he stroked your hair with his other hand.

"Just a scratch y/n. Better that than what I thought was gonna happen."

"There was so much blood..."

"She did a good job didn't she? Fuck it hurts..." He chuckled and immediately regretted it.

"Can you get my mam?" You nodded and went to fetch her. She came into to room and kissed Cillian's head lightly.

"Mam, y/n is good to stay with you til I'm outta here, right?"

"Not even a question son, you know that! Plenty of old photo albums I can show her." She smirked. So that's where he got that from...

"On second thoughts, maybe you should head to my place in Dublin..." He laughed nervously.

"Mrs Murphy I don't want to be a bother..."

"Shh now, I won't hear another word of it. You'll stay with us as long as you need to." You kissed Cillian's hand, a few tears still falling down your cheeks.

"Don't wind up the nurses Cill..." You warned, his mother told you the last time he was in hospital he spent the majority of the tine doing just that.

"Won't be flirting with them this time though at least." You raised an eyebrow, his mum slapped his shoulder.

Back at his mum's house, you'd settled on the sofa, his Dad on the armchair still in a bit of a daze and his mum bringing you a glass of wine.

"How's Silé and Damien?" You asked as she sat down next to you.

"They're more concerned about Cillian than the wedding - as long as he's okay, they're okay."

"Was she always crazy? Liane?"

"Not at first. She was a sweetheart. Once they got married and Cillian became more famous, she changed. Became possessive over him. Always checking up on him, making sure he wasn't having his way with co-stars... Ironic really!" She laughed.

"I'm so sorry for all of this... She wouldn't have done it if I'd not been there..."

"Not another word of it - the woman's a nutcase. This isn't your fault at all. I haven't seen my son this happy for years - and I mean it. If anything, I thank you for that." She took your hand as you welled up, and pulled you into a huge hug.

"You've all been so wonderful... Sorry I keep crying, my emotions are all over the place..."

"Understandable, it's been a hell of a day. Take yourself off.to get some rest. I'll wake you in the morning, we can go see Cillian. Maybe a spot of shopping after, what do you say?"

You grinned, and nodded. Saying goodnight you headed upstairs. Getting into bed, you sent a text to Cillian.

"Hope you're okay? I'm heading to bed, love you X"

He didn't reply but you figured he was probably resting, until his dad shouted up the stairs.

"Y/n??!!!" You rushed out of bed and ran downstairs.

"What's wrong?"

"Cillian's in a bad way, we need to get to the hospital now..."