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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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[Image ID: A black picture with the title “HOW TO SUPPORT FANFICTION AUTHORS” written in bold caps lock, colored with a winter forest picture. End ID.]

Well, this post has been made countless times, but I’m making one too because I’ve seen a lot of people say they’re new to tumblr and don’t know the whole “reblogging is better than liking” rule and other stuff. So without any further ado, here are ways YOU can support the fanfiction authors. Now keep in mind this applies to almost every author out there, not just the stayblr fandom, so if you’re a silent reader (or even if you aren’t), I advise you go through this post. Warning, this is a fairly long post going into detail, so yeah. I still expect you, the readers to read this, and if you’re a writer, feel free to lmk if i’ve written smth wrong or if you want me to add something! ^^

In this post I’ll go into thorough analysis of the pros and cons of each of the methods listed here and how YOU as a reader can show the authors whose fics you read more love and motivate them to produce content.

WARNING; LONG POST! GOES INTO A DECENT AMOUNT OF DETAIL. NOT EDITED, EXCUSE ANY TYPOS.

#1 : LIKING !

I think this is basic common knowledge, and a lot of people tend to do this. When you like the post, the author sees it, you see it, and if the author has their liked posts accessible (which majority of the time they don’t), and if someone deliberately goes to check it, then they see it. See why so many authors say just liking does nothing? Only liking says “Hey, I’m gonna tell you your story is not that good by simply liking it and not sharing it with other people. :D”

♯ PROS:

You’re telling the author that you've read their fic, and either you’ve enjoyed it to a certain extent, or you’re just saving it to read for later.

Likes are seen by you, the author and anyone who has access to your likes (which, most people don’t).

♯ CONS:

If you ONLY like, you’re not really helping the author’s work reach a wide audience because this site isn’t Instagram. Reblogging is the only way people can SEE our works. I’ll cover more on that in the next section.

In a nutshell, liking is good! But you should most likely use it in a combination with the other stuff I’ve listed below, because just the like itself doesn’t really do much in giving the author any feedback or interaction on their fics.

To clear shit up; I’m not talking about those people who don’t read the story or appreciate it in the first place. I’m talking about those who appreciate the fic, like it, but don’t leave any sort of feedback to show that.

#2 : REBLOGGING !

This is SO, SO important. I cannot stress on this enough. Let me explain WHY so many writers stress on reblogging content:

Tumblr’s tag system is inherently fucked up, and has grown more so over the year. I’m not kidding, at first, the fic either used to show up in the tags or it didn’t, but now, sometimes your fic can be REMOVED from the tags because of,,, idk tumblr tag shit. Anyways, as you can see, it’s very demotivating for authors at that point, because the major way for people to find their content and expand their blogs has been blocked.

Due to this reason, tumblr authors need to RELY on you, their followers to help spread their works to a wider audience. Now again, before you get me wrong, I’m not saying you ae forced to rb our works regardless of whether you like them or not. BUT, that being said, if you DO infact like the story, there’s no harm in reblogging, right? By doing this you’re indirectly telling the author — “hey! :D I liked your fic! Which is why I am gonna share it to my followers so they can read it too :D” Trust me, you’re doing nothing but helping the people who produce content for you to read. Seems like a worthy cause to hit the reblog button, right? It’s only a one, or maximum two step procedure.

Leave tags in your reblogs! Trust me, as an author myself and as much as I know from all my author friends, we oft check the tags of your reblogs to see if you found any part amazing or even if you have anything to say about the writing we put so much hard work into. Even a key smash or a “This was so [insert adjective] 🥺” is enough to leave a smile on your authors face.

♯ PROS :

You’re !! Sharing !! Your authors !! Works !! This leads to them getting more recognition, so for the content they’re so graciously providing for free, you’re promoting their blog and helping them expand it.

If the tags are being a shit, which majority of the time they are, then you’re literally making an author’s day by reblogging! You’re showing them that you, a follower and appreciator of their works are willingly sharing their content because it deserves to be seen by more people. Again before any dumb people decide to attack me, i am talking about people who like the fic but don't bother reblogging and are silent/ghost readers. I am not forcing anyone to read anybody’s work.

YOU’RE MAKING YOUR AUTHOR SO HAPPY WHAT MORE REASONS COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT !! 🥺

♯ CONS :

Literally none, because as far as I remember no author is against reblogging of their works. It’s quite literally the way this platform functions. Reblogging is IMPORTANT.

#3 : COMMENTING/SENDING FEEDBACK !

This kind of overlaps with the previous section, but THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT STEP !! When you leave feedback, you are directly giving the author something so much more valuable to them than high follower/note counts or money. Your feedback is literally our serotonin. I kid you not the number of times I’ve received a positive comment and smiled and it has made my day. There’s a reason youtubers (though not the best example, bear with me here because it was the only one I could think of) ask people to subscribe, like and COMMENT. The subscription is like a follow, the like is ofc like a heart, and the comment is equivalent to an rb with comments in the tags.

You might argue and tell me that a comment is basically like an ask so the reblogging step isn’t necessary, but I’m sure 99% of you use YouTube and you know that more comments leads to people’s videos boosted in the stream/trending charts. This is what reblogging does. Reblogging shares the piece with other people like minded, which leads to a boost in reads. You are literally helping your author grow.

It’s quite literally the same thing as youtubers. Youtubers NEED validation to keep their content creation going, so do writers, so do other ccs on this site. This post is however, focused on WRITERS, so keep that in mind.

♯ PROS :

By doing this, you’re giving author valuable feedback! It’s similar to what you do in rbing with tags. Interactivity with their fics boosts their note counts and helps expand their audience, so srsly, now think of it: your one comment is playing such a massive role to help ccs create more content.

Imagine how much of a difference the note counts will be in when every person who simply likes after reading the fic, reblogs, leaves a comment and sends an ask. the note counts would be high on each and every fic, which is validation in itself, but your comments would inspire the writer so much more! Please, don’t skip the commenting part. Even a simple one like: “this is so cute!” is wonderful.

♯ CONS :

Remember, if you’re gonna give constructive criticism (which I’m sure you all are smart enough to know if different from hate), make sure the author is okay with it. Authors need to be in a specific mindset and must be ready to accept criticism, so if you’re gonna give constructive criticism to them when they’re at a low point, it may demotivate them.

Just commenting, instead of reblogging and commenting in the tags/ reblogging and then leaving an ask in their inbox, while it gives validation in plenty, will not lead to the author’s work being spread. Therefore I suggest either reblogging and commenting in the tags or reblog and then leave an ask, or comment under the fic!

!! reminder; I am not saying that if you don’t rb and just leave feedback, your feedback has no value. We authors truly appreciate every bit of feedback, but this post is aimed to help you learn how to interact with and support authors, and make them feel more motivated, because the current scenario of liking and scrolling is taking a toll on their creative abilities. Take it from a person who’s been writing for a year.

#4 : COMMSIONING VIA THEIR KO-FI/OTHER APPS !

Before any of you attack me, let me tell you that this is not a step that is 100% necessary to do. ONLY donate if you can and if you genuinely want to, and if anyone is forcing you to pay for something against your will, you need to get yourself out of there.

Regardless, if an author has a kofi and you’re able to and you want to donate, you definitely should! It’s also a valid form of support.

#5 : ADDING THEM ON REC LISTS/ RECOMMENDING THEM TO REC BLOGS

This is such an underrated option, to be honest. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve seen my fic was recommended onto some rec list and it’s made me smile so hard. If you like some fics, create a rec list! They’re oft very popular amongst the fans too. Making rec posts is such a great way to share your favorite stories with others.

Rec blogs! I’ve seen a couple going around, and needless to say they are a great way to get someone else to read your favorite author’s work whilst also giving them your own feedback. These blogs oft accept recs via a form or ask box, and they leave your feedback along with their own, or else they’ll oft tag the author in the feedback post, so look! You’re basically helping your author share their fic to many more people, because you’ve given them feedback and a reblog.

♯ PROS :

Validation! Feedback! Reblogs! More exposure! Helping a blog grow! Spreading love! basically a run down of the stuff I’ve said before!

♯ CONS :

Literally no con of this. Unless, a one in a million case, this author says they don’t like receiving feedback/being tagged, and I’m sure NO person has said this before, at least none that I’ve heard of.

#6 : FINAL COMMENTS; MISC !

When an author points out about how the interactivity is drastically reducing, don’t just give them blind apologies. Yes, you feel sorry for not interacting as much, we understand, but rather show that you’ll become a better content consumer through your actions. We need to see that we’re not just throwing words into a void and that people are actually trying to be better content consumers.

Understand the fact that authors don’t get paid for this, and 99% of the time, these authors don’t take commissions either. They’re giving you novel worthy writings for free. Take Percy Jackson: You think the author would have felt motivated to write the subsequent parts, let alone two whole series based off of it if literally no one showed that they were interested? Rick Riordan has sales, he is being paid, there are millions of people and big agencies who provide him feedback. Now take that huge amount and simmer it down to an audience of maybe 10000 people This is what fanfic authors want. They don’t want your money, nor are they telling you to risk your lives for them. All they want is, a reblog, some tags, some feedback, some INTERACTIVITY. A sign that they aren’t throwing fics into the void and that people actually like them, some motivation to continue. Seems fairly easy to throw an rb with some tags, right?

Don’t bother to tell me that we do this for ourselves and we shouldn’t ask for likes and reblogs and feedback, because 1) you are consuming the content that we “write for ourselves” and 2) writers post their content here for interactivity and feedback. We could just not post and write and save our fics in our dungeon drafts for years. But we choose to post to entertain the readers, the consumers. And we aren’t even asking that much in return.

Don’t give me the whole “I’m scared that authors feel that comments are annoying” excuse either because seriously this has been DEBUNKED SO MANY TIMES. Istg, in the nicest way possible, if you still think writers are annoyed by interaction and feedback, after so many posts, long rants have been posted as to how we’re not, then you must truly be living under a rock. There, I said it. Please stop thinking this way, I’ll say it again, AUTHORS ARE NOT ANNOYED OF FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, TAGS, REBLOGS. WE LOVE IT. Saying this is like saying that the audience in a theatre play shouldn’t clap when the play ends because the actors would find it noisy. 🤡

I’ve seen some people saying they have anxiety issues and such, so pls note that I’m not invalidating your condition. If you’re trying to be more interactive, I really appreciate it! If you can’t, that’s fine too. You’re trying.

But for the people who have no reason other than feeling lazy to rb and comment, your lack of interactiveness is not excused. Please. Tumblr is a reblogging site. If you’re gonna consume content like authors are some sort of machines, I encourage you to go get some more perspective.

This site is not Instagram or the satan bird app. Your likes are appreciated but frankly speaking, they do nothing to the author except tell them “Hey i read ur fic but i'm not gonna support u :D” and honestly, that is detrimental to their creative capabilities and mental health.

DON’T FOLLOW AN ACC JUST TO MINDLESS RB THEIR SIGNAL BOOST POSTS AND THEIR REBLOGS OF GIFS AND NOT INTERACT WITH THEIR WRITING AT ALL ! Trust me, authors prefer a lower amount of interactive followers than a high count that doesn’t even give them any feedback. Again your follows are appreciated, but when you’re following, you know the type of content the author creates, so the author expects that the more followers, the more interactivity. These days, this is just becoming the opposite. So don’t do it! If you’re gonna follow to read, interact with their works. I promise, this will make both you and the author happy. A win-win situation.

In conclusion: SUPPORT YOUR FUCKING AUTHORS! THEY ARE NOT MACHINES THAT HAVE NO FEELINGS TO PRODUCE CONTENT FOR YOU! FICS TAKE DAYS AND DAYS OF PLANNING, PLOTTING, OUTLINING, WRITING, EDITING, MAKING TEASERS. SO JUST SHOW THEM YOU APPRECIATE THEM WITH AN RB. IT’S THE L E A S T YOU CAN DO.

I will be liking this post here written by the lovely @chaninfused and @scriptura-delirus . Please take time to read it because if you weren’t convinced by my arguments, you will see how much frustration we as writers face on a daily basis. Please, just show support. Here is the post by @stayndays about how to get more people to read your work, because it also has a note on reblogging. Please educate yourself, and put an end to this mindless consuming culutre and bring up some interactivity.

If you’ve read this far, I want you to go to two of your favorite authors and leave some feedback in their inbox, and tag me in it (either tag me yourself or ask the author to do so, they won’t mind). Show your writers that our words are taking effect and you are becoming better consumers. I mean it. I’m serious. I want every single one who reads this post to do this. besides valid reasons, if you’re lazy to do this, you’re a part of the problem. PLEASE get more perspective.

Also, feel free to add to this post! I’d love to read your thoughts too, remember to be kind though. And, if I think your rb is somehow contradicting my points and is bringing down the reason I made this post, I will politely ask you to delete your comment, because this post is about being truthful about the harsh reality of tumblr consumers and how we can change it. I’m sure none of you will let it get to that point, though. <3 love you guys. 💓

And, just a reminder, don’t just blindly like this too. Do what I said before, and while I am not forcing you, I’d appreciate your reblog, because seriously, it took me 3 whole days to write this, plus, I’m sure this will help more of your followers understand the fault in consumer culture. haha, that’s it! This post was way too long uff.

also, this is ur cue to not be stupid in my inbox. You have something to say? Think I worded smth wrongly? I’m sure it wasn’t my intention to do so, point it out with manners.

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years ago

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Take a Breath Before You Break In - fic

Characters: Tim Drake, Damian Wayne Summary: Tim knew this feeling all too well. A/N: Not edited at all. Title/inspired by: ‘Redecorate’ by Twenty One Pilots. TW: suicide talk

Tim wasn’t perfect. He knew that. He always knew that.

And especially when it came to Damian.

The statue dedication was…not good. It was nice, of course that part was, but after…after, they were their true selves.

You don’t become a vigilante without being pretty fucked up, and they all showed it that day. Their true colors. The real monsters that their domino masks and flashy capes hid.

Damian blamed himself, and no one stopped him. No one corrected him. They all stood there as he – as this child – fell apart in front of them, took on the heaviest of burdens. As he ran out the door in tears and said, “Don’t follow me.”

And they – these hideous, ugly, absolute cowards – didn’t. Just shrugged and moved on with their day, like Damian was right. Like Damian wasn’t a victim in this whole thing too. Like Damian wasn’t their son, brother, friend, baby.

Tim thought it was curious, the day of. But that curiosity stewed in his mind, wouldn’t quite leave, even reminded him that he was the last to see Damian before this event. Not until he sat up in bed a few weeks later and looked out the window at the rising sun.

This was wrong.

But not just that. He woke up because of a twisting in his stomach. A terrible gut feeling. A feeling he knew too well, but knew it wasn’t about himself, not this time. He was fine. Everyone was fine.

Everyone but Damian. The one they didn’t follow.

…This was wrong.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t even get dressed before running to his computer and starting a search. Just because none of them did follow Damian doesn’t mean they couldn’t.

(And that just made them all that much worse, didn’t it?)

It took less than an hour to find a location, and once he confirmed it with a few well-placed security cameras, his stomach dropped lower.

He knew this feeling. He did. Hadn’t felt it for years himself, which was good. Anyone would say that was good. He didn’t avoid phone calls anymore. Didn’t lay in bed all day staring at a wall. Didn’t cry himself to sleep, or be so numb he couldn’t function.

But...feeling it for someone else? Sensing it for someone he, for some stupid reason, still pretended he didn’t care so deeply for?

Tim was a man of science, but he’d seen magic too. He believed in deep connections.

He never thought he’d have this one, though.

He reached the old building, and sent Cass and Jason both a text, telling them to prep to be backup. He might need them.

The place was gross, and that should have been clue enough. Damian would never stay somewhere gross by choice.

The door to the building was cracked open, but the glass window on it was already broken so, really, it was pointless. But despite that, Tim didn’t see anyone else. No squatters or runaways or drug addicts. An empty building as far as he could tell.

The apartment was on the third floor, and he took the decrepit steps slowly. That feeling wasn’t going away, a low hum in his stomach. He hated it.

He reached a door in the middle of the hall. All the other doorknobs on the floor were dust covered and dirty. This one was not. It had been touched recently.

He stood there a moment, staring. Then leaned his ear to the wood and listened. There was nothing, and he inhaled a shaky breath. Was he too late?

He knocked anyway.

Relief flooded his lungs when the door opened a crack, and he could see a green-tinged eye look up at him. The eye blinked, and the owner sighed, opening the door wider.

“What do you want?” Damian asked in annoyance.

But even in the relief, that feeling remained. So he gave a small smile and waved. “Can I come in?”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but backed up a step. Tim all but rushed inside.

He stared around the studio apartment as Damian closed and locked the door behind him. There…wasn’t much. A dresser in the corner, with a sheet over the mirror on top. Curtains drawn over a window. Some take-out containers on the counter. A few of Damian’s favorite weapons, and his Robin uniform and cape strewn across a bare wooden floor.

This was not how Damian Wayne lived.

“…How’s it going?” Tim asked anyway, doing his best to sound light.

“Great.” Damian drawled. But there wasn’t much malice behind it. There…wasn’t much of anything behind it. Emotionless. Empty. “What do you want?”

“What, I can’t just visit my brother when I want to?” He offered, but it sounded bitter on his tongue. Mocking in a way he didn’t intend.

“Since when did you call me your brother?” Damian sighed as he passed Tim. He walked across the room, leaning against the wall next to the shuttered window. Keeping as much distance between them as he could.

It shouldn’t have hurt. Tim didn’t deserve to have it hurt.

“Since…everything recently.” He lied. Since you died, he didn’t say. Since we lost you and didn’t know if we would get you back. “Made me realize family’s important. Our family is important, and our numbers are dwindling. The rest of us have to stick together.”

Damian blinked and crossed his arms. “…Hm.”

There was a silence for a few moments and Tim took the opportunity to look around again.

“…Where’d you get the dresser?”

“It was here.” Damian hummed.

Tim stepped towards it. “What’s it look like?” He reached his hand out to grab the sheet. “Anything like ours at ho-”

“Don’t touch it.” Damian suddenly snapped. Tim yanked his hand back immediately.

He looked at Damian. There were bags under his eyes. His skin seemed to be a sickly pale. His cheeks were a little sunken, like he hadn’t eaten, despite the containers on the counter.

“Why, got some secret tech in there or something?” Tim laughed. Damian didn’t join him. Damian didn’t do anything. Just stared at Tim. Stared past Tim, at the covered mirror behind him.

“No.”

“Where is your tech, then?” Tim asked. “Not many places to hide it here that I can see. Unless you set up some secret storage?”

Damian shook his head. “I didn’t bring any.”

“…Oh.” Tim glanced back towards the kitchen area. There was dust covering all the appliances, and he could tell the refrigerator wasn’t on. He looked back to the take-out containers, and almost gasped when he realized that they were moldy, like they were months old.

Damian had only been here a few weeks at most. They weren’t his. He’d never stepped foot in that kitchen.

He looked back at Damian. The boy was watching him closely, tiredly. Tim saw his muscles tense under the scrutiny.

“God, what do you want, Drake?” Damian snapped, pushing himself away from the wall and stomping back to the front door. “Did Batman send you or something?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tim murmured, eyes catching on the discarded uniform in the corner again. “I…I came to check on you.”

“Why?” Damian asked angrily. “What do you care?”

He kept his eyes glued to the uniform. The tunic folded neatly. The cape splayed beside it.

“We’re family.”

“…A poor excuse of a lie.” Damian said, almost sounding nervous as Tim just stared at his costume. “But whatever. You did it. You checked on me. I’m alive. I’m in the city. Now you can go tell the family that I’m-”

It hit instantly. The uniform wasn’t discarded. The uniform was Damian’s bed.

Not eating. Not caring. No light from the outside. No contact with anyone.

It was exactly what his gut was telling him.

“Are you?” He asked, turning to look at Damian. Damian flinched back. “Are you alive?”

“What the hell does that even mea-?”

“Damian, are you trying to kill yourself?” Tim asked bluntly. There was an edge to his voice that he didn’t mean, but he had to know. He had to.

Damian stared at him, eyes wide. He glanced around the room, like he didn’t know how Tim put it together. Like he was looking for what Tim saw to reach that conclusion.

Suddenly he spun around, fingers fiddling with the door lock. “Get out.”

“Damian-”

“I said get out!” His voice cracked.

“Damian.” Tim took a step towards him. “It’s okay. I understand. Just answer the question.”

Damian grunted as his fingers slipped from the lock. His breathing was heavy. He was like a caged animal.

“I completely understand, okay? I know the symptoms. I’ve experienced them myself. No appetite, no outside world, no communication. I just need you to answer my question.” Tim stepped towards him again, put a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to die?”

“No!” Damian shrieked as he turned back. There were already tears cascading down his face. He tried to yank himself out of Tim’s grip and bounced his spine painfully against the doorknob. “No, I…”

“It’s okay.” Tim smiled now, genuinely. “Let it out. Say what you need to.”

Damian looked away, back towards the covered mirror. He swayed a little, and Tim took hold of his shoulder again.

“…I don’t deserve to be here, Drake.” He whispered. “I don’t…I’ve burdened you all. I’ve done terrible things. I…I killed Alfred. There’s…there’s no coming back from that.”

Tim nodded silently, taking hold of Damian’s other arm as he began to tremble, and carefully lowered them both to the floor.

“I…I can’t look at myself.” He breathed, eyes still glued to the sheet. “All I see is a monster. A devil.” He blinked slowly. “I’m hideous, just like you’ve all said, all this time.”

“Okay.” Tim murmured, leaning Damian back against the wall. Slowly, he maneuvered himself to sit next to him. Without thinking, he reached out and took Damian’s hand in his.

“I…I need to disappear.” Damian narrowed his eyes, like he was trying to figure out a problem. “I need to…leave. Get out of your lives. Get out of everyone’s. You’re all better off. I know it.”

Tim just squeezed his fingers.

“I exist and I shouldn’t. It’s wrong. I’m wrong. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for invading your world. Anyone’s world.” Damian rambled. “I wish I didn’t exist. I wish I never did.” A moment of silence, as he continue to stare at that covered mirror. “I wish I never did.”

Tim nodded once more. Then, as Damian’s words trailed off back into just hiccupping tears, he slowly moved his arm around Damian’s shoulder and pulled him into his chest. Cocooned Damian in his embrace, hid him from the world in the lapels of his coat.

“I know you can’t hear me right now.” Tim said softly. “But none of that is true. And I’m sorry none of us have ever said that to you before. But I will say it every second of every day for the rest of my life if I need to, okay?”

Damian didn’t react.

“I love you.” Tim said anyway. “We all do. And we’re just…well, we’re all messed up and lost right now. And that’s no excuse. We just need to do better. We will do better.” He unwound one arm to tenderly hold Damian’s face, lean it up to look at him. “I will do better.”

Damian just stared.

“I wasn’t lying, you know. I know what you’re going through.” Tim promised. “After my dad died? I…well. The only difference between you and me is that I let myself have a mattress. And Dick knew where I lived.”

He winced at that. Because, god, he wished Dick were here. If Dick were here, the real Dick Grayson, Damian probably never would have the chance to run in the first place. Never would have isolated himself. Never would have gotten this far.

But Dick wasn’t here. Just Tim was.

“I don’t want you to disappear.” Tim whispered into Damian’s hair. “Not ever. I want you to live forever, actually.”

Damian didn’t respond, but Tim didn’t expect him to. That was okay.

“…I’m going to take you home. And I’m going to take care of you.” Tim hummed. “But for now, let’s just sit here for a while, yeah?”

It took a moment, a few moments, but eventually, he felt Damian relax into his chest a little. Croak out a soft, “Okay.”

Tim leaned his head on Damian’s. It was a start.

#Damian Wayne #Tim Drake

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golbrocklovely · 3 years ago

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okay, i'm gonna do this review fast bc we all know how i feel about this episode anyway lol

here's my review of snc's third episode in their season 2 series

aka "Our Unexplainable Night at Crescent Hotel (w/ KallmeKris & CelinaSpookyBoo)"

so, hilarious enough, i actually didn't mind this episode in the beginning. kris and celina's funny bits at first were really good, and i never mind when they all joke around before the investigation. and even during, to some extent.

but this one…. went well past just occasionally joking around. this was full blown "let's go back to 2019 and freak out over every little thing and make fart jokes" levels of bad.

and while the content they made back with corey and jake wasn't bad, it's just not on the same level as they are now. they actually take this seriously. they do and put a lot more work in, so to see them revert back to what they were like before…. no thank you.

so the beginning was fun and i generally liked it. finding out the hotel had a cat manager is adorable. and the little cat door for the current cat?? so sweet.

the hotel itself is actually really gorgeous looking. i like the decor and i like that it's so high up that later on, it's basically covered in fog.

during the whole entire video, the only thing they actually caught that i think was interesting was the towel being moved. that's strange for sure. bc where it moved to is a significant amount of movement. so unless they were lying to us about going back into that room at some point, then i think that is some interesting evidence.

as for the figure kris saw, i do feel bad that she got really emotional. i can only imagine how scary it was to see. that being said, if i was literally in tears, i would probably need to remove myself or just take a bit to calm down just to continue on bc there's no way i'm going into a place that worked up nerve wise. the spirits, whether good or bad, would be FEASTING off of her energy. i wouldn't be surprised if after this investigation (and then this weeks video) that kris was just drained.

the key turning in her hand… eh. i think it was just the weight of the key and an old ass lock.

i noted that 35 minutes in, over half way thru, the investigation never really seemed to start. like there might have been a title sequence for it, but…. it never felt like they actually took the time to chill and start the investigation. there was no settled moment in this video. everything was amped to 11 and loud. and i could not stand it for the life of me.

there was literally a point i had to TURN DOWN the volume bc they were screaming so much. like……………. no words.

their tour guide was fine at first but as time went on, i could just feel the theater kid vibes coming off of him (take it from the theater degree holder, me lol).

and someone else pointed it out, i forget who, but with how loud snc got that i wouldn't be surprised that if at some point they get kicked out of a hotel for being that obnoxious. i think that's my problem with them going to haunted hotels. unless they are completely alone or have rented out a whole floor or something, there's no way to tell if the bangs and random shit they hear are guest or ghosts.

two things i would like for snc to remove from their arsenal of devices: the cat ball and writing planchet. neither one are believable or interesting on camera to see be used/go off. just… get something else. use literally any other device. please.

fun fact about the meat locker: the apple smell that colby smelled and the rancid one kris was smelling was probably mold. mold to me sometimes smells like apples, but smells bad to my mom. so… that's fun sksks

also, idk if anyone else noticed or agrees, but the video's editing kinda came across like super rushed and not finished. i mean, they didn't even end with a preview for the next episode. that almost never happens. it almost felt like they stitched together what they could to make a video and dumped it out hoping ppl would enjoy.

overall, this video blew. i feel bad rating it low, bc i did laugh quite a bit, but i kept getting annoyed and everything was just TOO MUCH, so i'm gonna rate this like a 1/5. part of me thinks that harsh, another part of me thinks it's not harsh enough. if snc had sold this video as really fun, borderline jokey type of "paranormal" video, i probably would have liked it a bit more. but even then, i don't think so. the parts i enjoyed were cancelled out from the fact that the whole thing felt like a joke and was just too loud. so… hopefully if they ever collab with this duo again, maybe they will turned down a bit. possibly literally.

and this week's video… omg. just finished it not too long ago. it's so good. i'll try to post my review later this week and not like how i have been which is after next week's video lol

#sam and colby #sam golbach #colby brock #season two #personal #text

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insomniacinserts · 4 years ago

Text

Biology 1

mark hunter x male reader

words- 1621

unedited, not requested.

A/N i hope to turn this into a series. but i am lazy and unreliable so we’ll see how this goes :) enjoy this very awkward first interaction between mark and his future bf. i will hopefully comeback and edit this someday but there shouldn't be anything too bad besides improper grammar, run on sentences, lowercase i’s, and many many commas. but if there's anything horrific don't be afraid to point it out to me as i will correct it right away.

Descript: marks got a crush on the reader, reader wants to hang out and get to know mark while battling feelings and heteronormativity (god that's a big word)

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The dull ache in my skull thumped harder and harder as the teacher droned on about something to do with genetics. I look to the clock and rub harshly at the bridge of my nose desperate to get the pain out of my head but reading that i still had under half an hour left of the class (according to the busted clock on the wall) only made my head pound harder, my eyes flick from the clock to the board where the teacher had turned around and was slowly drawing some diagram on the chalkboard behind him, i shake my head just as something glints out of the corner of my eye looking over my shoulder i lock eyes with a kid i had seen around school grounds from time to time, he was looking at me with a far off glint in his eye and a small hue of red covering his ears. I lifted up my hand and did a little wave to him paired with a small smile, the sun must have reflected off his glasses when he turned his head and the light caught my eye. As if someone shocked the kid he snapped back with a flinch, the blush on his ears covering over his cheeks he offered an awkward smile and ducked his head to scratch at his neck “is something more interesting than my lesson Mr. L/N?” I swiveled my head to look at the teacher “no sir. Sorry sir it won't happen again. I'm all ears'' i smiled brightly at the man as he rolled his eyes and the other classmates snickers in the background, i wait for the teacher to turn back around before risking a glance at the kid who i caught looking at me earlier to find him still in the same position; head bowed with his hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

I watched as his glasses slipped down his nose and his soft looking hand leave his neck to push them back up only after doing so did he look up, his flush was gone but when he caught my eyes again it came back full force and his eyes widened i couldn't help the small amused smile that spread on my face i could only bite the inside of my cheek to stop it from turning into a grin, the poor kid looked like a deer caught in headlights, and when he clocked the smile on my face he pursed his lips into a tight line and looked over my head to the clock, i swiftly ducked to peak at the clock as well and gathered my book and notebook as the bell rung. I was gonna talk to this kid, he was too cute not to.

I turn back around to see him taking his sweet time in gathering his stuff “last class of the day? Or do you participate in the clubs?” I got up and (hopefully) smoothly walked toward him “I'm not in any clubs.” his voice was quiet and cut off at the end “what do you do after school anyway?” he pushed past me and left the classroom subtly giving me time to follow “i usually go home” i bob my head “yeah not much to do around here without friends. You got any friends?” he shook his head tugging the strap of his bag as we got closer to what i assumed was his locker “oh no way” he flinched at my enthusiasm when we reached his locker (to be fair i didn't use my ‘inside voice’ and shouted a bit so I can't blame him) “dude sick! Its like destiny or something.” he gave me a quizzical look as i moved around him and down a few lockers “your 187. And I'm 184! See this is my locker” i waited until he was close enough to me to unlock my locker and fling it open he hummed quietly and brushed his fingers over some of the tapes i kept in my locker “you listen to the beastie boys?” he’d tugged a flashy tape out of the collection and thumbed over the colorful scribbles on the case and the clearly scrawled title “uh yeah a little, I like a lot of music” he nods and puts it back and steps away from my locker letting me close it “so you can call me Y/N and i can call you?” his face heated up “mark” he turned to walk down the hallway “so.. Mark.” he pushed his glasses up and looked over at me “you've got no friends. You're not in any clubs. You go home everyday after school. You listen to the beastie boys. I think it's safe to say I'm your friend now, don't you agree?” he bit his lip and nodded'' I guess” he smiled when I fist pumped the air “sweet! So, need a ride home, friend?” I grinned at him as the flush on his cheeks grew to a bright cherry red “uh. Ok '' I bobbed my head and skipped ahead of him to push the door open and hold it open for him “uh its that one over there, the red convertible” he nodded and clutched the straps of his backpack closer to his chest. “Common I'm not gonna kill you or anything. Get in” I opened the door for him before jumping into the driver seat, he awkwardly runs his palms over his jeans and gets into the car with his bag on his lap “so where's your place?” I started up the car and looked over to him before settling my hand behind his head on the headrest and looking over my shoulder to back out and exit the school's parking lot “uh it's just down past there. I'll tell you when we get there” i nod and flick on the radio before i can think into the sharp pang in my chest.

“Here it's here.” he points to a quaint looking house, clearly cozy but looked to be empty “parents gone?” I pull into his driveway and park the car. “Yeah, they'll be home in a bit” he gets out of the car and makes his way to the porch before stopping and looking back at me. I smile and wave at him before going to switch the car out of park and into reverse “wait! Wait a second” he waves for me to stop and comes up to the car “turn it off” he motions to the radio and i turn it as well as the car off “something wrong?” he shakes his head “since we're friends and all. You wanna come in?” this time my face heated up, i pulled the keys out of the ignition and shoved them into my pocket before exiting the car and following him up his porch and into his house, “wow. You've got a nice place here man.” he stops awkwardly in front of me and rubs the back of his neck before making his way to the kitchen to grab two of his dad's beers from the fridge “you drink?” he holds out the can and i take it with a small smile ��only on special occasions” the remark forces a flush onto his face and he leads me to a door and down some stairs “this is my room” I nod and look around occasionally thumbing at some of the boosters on his walls and running my fingers over his couch when i pass it “your room is sick man, my parents wont let me hang anything up in mine. I'm lucky they let me have the typewriter I got a while back.” he seems to perk up at the mention of a typewriter if I had half the confidence id call him cute flat out but god knows I don't want to fuck up whatever the fuck is going on right now “you write” I cracked open the beer and held it up to my lips peering at him over the edge before taking a sip “no. not really anymore. Why” he shrugs and bows his head letting his hand come up to rub at his neck I'm starting to think it was a nervous habit instead of a bashful one “I write some. My English teacher thinks I should enroll in a club. Says I've got a talent or something” I not and look at him closer, his shoulders seemed to tense and then relax as he was thinking “you should show me some” he looks up with the same expression I saw in class; his cheeks red eyes wide and eyebrows raised to his hairline “I mean. I might not write some but I do read. A lot” I finish sheepishly and shrug “you seemed to like my typewriter when I mentioned it. So I'll make you a deal.” I slowly stepped a little closer to him, testing his reaction. When he didn't back away I stepped some closer “what.” he stopped to clear his throat “what's the deal?” I grin and nod. “I'll give you two weeks.” I hold two of my fingers up failing to hold back a snicker when he looks at me confused “two weeks. To write the most extravagant thing I have ever read. And if I like it, I'll let you use my typewriter whenever you want.” I set the can down on his desk and wipe the condensation off on my jeans, he brings his hand back up to his neck and shakes his head “I don't think ill be able to write anything that good.” I huff and shake my head “not with that attitude you cant.”

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like this work? wanna support me? you can send me a tip on ko-fi over here :)

#pump up the volume #mark hunter #pump up the volume mark #mark hunter x male reader #mark hunter x reader #pump up the volume x male reader #pump up the volume x reader #mark hunter is gay and trans #i dont make the rules #Y/N is bio male #and gay #kind of #.#this is the most talkitive ive been in tags #writers block really takes it outta you #i should stop stalling and post this now

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donvampiro · 4 years ago

Note

Hello, hope your day had been well so far :)

Do you happen to have rules about what you accept and don’t accept? And a masterlist on what you’ve already done

Didn’t want to end up sending in anything that’d potentially be on the “don’t”s section 😅

Can I request a scenario on Ace with a shy fem. s/o? She’s good at singing, but literally no one knows since she only sings when she’s alone. Then one day, on Ace’s birthday, she puts on a public performance (on the ship), where she sings the song “Birthday” (by Katy Perry) dedicated to him. She managed to keep her look of confidence through the song, but when it’s finished, she’d be blushing heavily. How’d Ace react with both the shock of hearing her sing for the first time, and such a... provocative song?

Mainly looking for fluff with maybe either a bit of teasing at the end or suggested lime.

Thank you for reading this ask :D

Hey, Anon! Hope you're doing well :D

No kidding, thank you for reminding me that i haven't done anything like a 'Rules' post yet – but now it's not as if i've written only 2 scenarios, so i really should do it, you're right. (edit : you can find it here : ifiruledtheworld)

if you're interested, here's my Masterlist! - Welcome

Anyway alright Anon! tbh i didn't know this song (#shame#), but now i do, so let's try to see how our Fire Fist Freckles Ace would react. 'Pop your Pérignon', bc here we go! thanks for asking, and i hope it will meet your expectations as well as possible <3

***

'i'll give you a taste'

Ace x (shy) fem!reader

'If you wanna dance, if you want it all; You know that I'm the girl that you should ca– ah, no!'

it wasn't the right octave. You frown, annoyed.

it usually never happens. So why? You know you're good at singing.

you know you are.

but in your opinion, it has always been better to sing for yourself. just enjoying the moment, you, yourself... and you ; so you could do all the variations you wanted, trying – daring.

daring is an issue for you, because you're aware of your shyness.

you know you are.

plus some apprehensiveness maybe? Ace's brithday is coming.

everyone on the ship is preparing it, and so are you. But you want your present to be special, to be unique. Ace deserves this.

that's why you've chosen to surpass your shyness, to let your singer skills flourish – here by singing 'Birthday'.

there are obvious reasons to justify your choice. the title of the song, for instance : a song named 'Birthday' for a birthday.

but there are other reasons – 'deeper', we could say.

because yup, we should never judge a book by its cover.

as well as people would never have thought you'd be able to offer a whole performance because you're shy (you neither btw) ; 'Birthday' isn't a mere 'happy birthday' song.

Oh, no no no –

but here you are now. on the ship, literally in front of the whole crew, so at first you're more thinking about how to create a diversion in order to flee than singing.

'A-ace!'

the pirate turns around immediately upon hearing your insecure voice. he smiles.

'What's wrong?'

your blushing is so intense. but you find some comfort in Ace's eyes, locked on yours in a gentle glance.

'N-nothing. just... a present for you.'

he seems both surprised and happy. it might be because he IS surprised and happy actually

or maybe it's you who are so good at reading his emotions without even him needing to talk about them?

'F-for me?! Wow, thank you! But... why?'

such a facepalm in your mind right now

'Because it's your birthday, i guess...??'

he chuckles.

'I'm kidding. however, don't say it's « nothing »!! something from you isn't « nothing » at all, y/n.'

a shiver runs through your spine. meanwhile, the crew has started cheering on you, really interested in what you'd have to propose, you, shy y/n. you're always so quiet.

you know you are.

But music has always had this capacity to shoo your shyness away. when you sing, the whole world disappears. remains only music, notes and people you love.

therefore, you feel a sort of 'self-confidence wave', as long as you're thinking about singing – singing for him. Ace.

'Listen carefully, ok?'

– 'Of course.'

– 'i'm counting on you to.'

Everyone sits down in a circle and stares at you. After breathing out heavily, you clear your throat and then-

'I heard you're feeling nothing's going right'

it's only the very first line, but Ace's attention is immediatly drawn by it.

the meaning of this line,

but also,

your voice.

so smooth, a bit high-pitched, but not that much, so it matches perfectly with the rhythm you're setting up progressively – because 'the clock is ticking, running out of time'.

although the song advised to do it, his eyes are not covered at all. it's the first time he hears you singing, and he's determined to not miss a word.

'You know that I'm the girl that you should call'

because those very words, oh my god, those lyrics sound... particular? no... not 'particular', it's... he was short of words actually, just looking at you dumbstruckly with his mouth half-opened.

at first, he was puzzled : your voice is beautiful, but... why were you always talking about food? 'I hope you got a healthy appetite' ; 'i'll give you a taste' ; 'i know you like it sweet' ; 'so you can have your cake' ;... he was wondering if you were hungry? There was a cake right there though.

it's probably his state of staggering at this moment which had led him to have this kind of reflections, at face value and a bit ridiculous.

you look so confident.

because you're in your element.

and thanks to this feeling of ease, there's this sort of aura, a solar aura emanating from you and turns you even more beautiful than you already are in Ace's opinion.

it's at this very moment that the pirate begins to discern another meaning in the lyrics.

plus, the rhythm you've chosen helps him to hear every word clearly. and maybe the 'taste' you're singing is not the one he thought about.

'So hot and heavy, 'til dawn ; I got you spinning ; Like a disco ball'

he starts blushing a bit. he never thought you could sing something so cheeky. unless it's him who is... slightly dirty-minded? this very thought makes him blush even more.

'you're never gonna be unsatisfied', you've sung earlier.

Oh, you're so right. as well as the whole crew, Ace is bewitched by your voice and your confident smile, so rare when you're in public.

'So make a wish'

Right now, Ace's wish is that you keep singing. for him, but also for you – all this joy in your eyes, it melts his heart.

but the song finishes, with this 'Happy birthday' you've said so suavely.

he's glad his head hasn't caught fire – literally – at that moment. meanwhile, the crew starts applauding vigorously. profusion of compliments while Ace remains silent.

since you've finished singing, you're a blushing mess. as if all your self-confidence were gone in one second. but it's often reassuring to see Ace is in the same state.

blushing heavily as well, his eyes are still wide-opened, his lips shiver a bit.

still short of words. as if you had said everything through this song, as if you had stolen all he wanted to tell you for so long.

in front of his silence, your first thought is negative – 'He didn't like it.'

you start apologizing, blushing more intensely. seeing it makes Ace blushing more as well, you two are stammering something confusing apologies and acknowledgements.

'y/n!! t-thanks a lot, and please, don't be sorry, it's just that it was so-'

you freeze.

'it's « so »...?'

ah, shyness. you want to know. but you don't dare asking for more. waiting for Ace to end the sentence by himself.

– '… perfect? You sing so well, i never thought you could. i mean... you've never sung with us. i whished you would.'

– 'really? wow... i... i don't know what to say. thanks. but... what really matters to me is... well, did you like it? at least, i hope it wasn't too awful?'

– 'don't say that. i'm sure you know you're good at singing.'

you look away.

he smirks.

'… and that you know perfectly what you're singing.'

you look away again, still blushing. is he burning you or what?

'i... don't know what you're talking about.'

– 'Come ooooon, y/n.'

he comes closer, whispering in your ear, so close so you could clearly feel his smirk widening.

'There were many promises in your song, and keep in mind it's still my birthday. i hope you're going to keep your commitments.'

#portgas d ace headcanons #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #ace #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #fluff #donvampiro #portgas d. ace #portgas d. ace x reader

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squeamishdionysus · 4 years ago

Text

The Boy in the Tea Shop

Chapter 1

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

TW: none that i can note

summary: You're living alone as a refugee in Ba Sing Se. Things all seem normal until you meet a boy in a tea shop.

notes: omg this took so long. this took way longer than I ever thought it would. I'm so sorry for the long wait again, y'all, but school has just been really overwhelming, not to mention my mental health hasn't been the best. Anyways, it felt good to get this done finally! This is the first chapter of a Zuko x Reader series I will be doing centered around Zuko's arch in Ba Sing Se. I'm really looking forward to this! Now, this chapter is unedited and I'll admit, not the best work I've done, but I tried my best and just wanted to get the first chapter awkwardness out of the way. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Edit: I forgot to mention that the reader uses she/they pronouns and has long enough hair to pull up. They are addressed as "miss" as well.

Masterlist

Being a refugee in Ba Sing Se was not easy.

The Dai Li were around every corner, as well as thieves and swindlers, and so many other people around you were struggling to get by. You weren’t allowed to mention the very war that brought you to Ba Sing Se, and as a consequence of that, it was hard to find anyone who might’ve known your family and would be willing to help you out.

Your parents had sacrificed a lot to make sure you got to Ba Sing Se, feeling you’d be much safer there than back home in your small village, one that was right in the path of invading Fire Nation troops. The trip was long and hard, and now that you were there, it didn’t seem very worth it. You had very little money, knew no one, and felt suffocated by the “culture” that was enforced on everyone.

You sighed, closing and locking the door to the pottery shop. You had gotten a job there weeks ago, and though the pay wasn’t a lot, the owner was incredibly kind and you actually enjoyed working there. It paid enough for living expenses and basic necessities, which is what mattered. Today, however, you were given a small bonus, as you had sold a very valuable piece to a very important customer and actually managed to convince them to pre-order two more. Your boss was very impressed and rewarded you with some money to spend on something special.

You didn’t have much in mind. There wasn’t a lot going on in the Lower Ring. The best you could do for now, besides looking around for something to do, was keep your money out of plain sight. There were just too many thieves around this area to risk it.

A short grumble came from your stomach, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning. There weren’t many good restaurants around here, though, as all of those were up in the Middle Ring. However, all of the monorails were closed and it would be a nightmare to try and walk all the way up there. It seemed that the only option you had for now was a tea shop, as those were more easily accessible in the Lower Ring. One that came to mind was the Pao Family Tea House. You had heard from your employer that they had just recently hired new staff, and that the tea, which was mediocre at best before, was now the best in Ba Sing Se. You were sure that was a stretch, but it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

You opened the door to the tea shop, looking up at the customers sitting around at each table. Most were guards and workers from around the city, probably because, like you, they were all off from their work shifts. They all seemed to be enjoying the tea they ordered, which gave you a little bit of hope that maybe you hadn’t decided to waste your time and money on something you wouldn’t enjoy. You took a seat at the only empty table left and looked at a small menu that was to the side, trying to pick out something you’d like but also could afford.

Thankfully, everything on the menu was in an affordable range. That came to no surprise, considering the quality and location of the tea house. They only had three different teas you could order and a few snacks you could order as sides. No matter what you ordered, it probably wouldn’t be enough to completely satisfy your hunger. You probably had something else back at the apartment, though. You’d worry about it when you got there.

The most appealing thing on the menu to you at that moment was the jasmine tea. Jasmine tea wasn’t something you had very often. Your mother only made it on special occasions, as it was hard to get jasmine tea leaves where you lived. Of course, being a large city, Ba Sing Se had plenty of it, meaning that what used to be a delicacy to you could now be found everywhere. Still, you limited yourself to only having it once in a while, that way it still felt rewarding whenever you ordered it. Along with the tea, you picked out the largest snack they had: a plate of cakes, just to make sure you wouldn’t be starving later.

You put the menu to the side, looking up to see a waiter walking towards your table.

A cute waiter.

A cute waiter your age.

He was tall; that was the first thing you noticed about him. The second was his scar. He had a scar that covered his right eye, one that was clearly caused by a burn of some kind. It wasn’t pleasant (in your eyes, no scars were), but it didn’t mean you found it ugly. Everyone in the Lower Ring had scars of some kind, some visible and some not. It wasn’t any of your business to judge him by that.

The third thing you noticed were his eyes. They were what you could only describe as a mix of brown and amber, something you couldn’t say you had ever seen before.

You felt yourself beginning to blush a bit, knowing you did not look your absolute best from having to work all day. It didn’t help that you probably had bags under your eyes. You didn’t exactly live in the safest part of town, and more often than not you found yourself lying awake, paranoid about what might happen if you dozed off for even a second. If it wasn’t paranoia, it was the vivid nightmares that had plagued your mind about the Fire Nation ever since you left home.

The boy stopped in front of your table, pulling out a pen and notepad from his apron pocket. “Hello, welcome to the Pao Family Tea House. What would you like?” His voice was hoarse and raspy. You could hear a mix of boredom and weariness ring through his words. It was something you heard in your own words all the time, especially at work. You managed a small smile and looked at the menu to refresh your mind of your order.

“Can I get a cup of jasmine tea and a small plate of cakes?” you asked, looking up at him. He looked down at you and paused for a moment, seeming to examine you just for a short second before nodding. He walked back to the counter, placing the order in front of an older man who was holding a teapot and chatting with whom you could only assume was the manager.

You sighed, looking back down at the table in thought. The waiter was intriguing, but you didn’t have the confidence to push past just ordering food. You didn’t know him and he didn’t know you. There was no point in trying to become anything more than strangers.

Then again, it couldn’t hurt to be friendly.

You soon saw the waiter walking back to your table, a cup of tea on his tray. He placed it down on your table, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Thank you,” you said, lifting the cup and breathing in the steam that came from the tea. It smelled delicious, which isn’t something you could normally say about tea in the Lower Ring. You smiled up at him. “Did you make the tea yourself?”

The waiter looked unsure of what to say. Either what you had just said was incredibly stupid or you were one of the first customers to say anything to him, and for your dignity’s sake, you hoped it was the latter.

“Um, no. My uncle made it.”

You looked over his shoulder, spotting a surprisingly recognizable older man with a teapot in his hands, chatting with one of the guards as he served their tea.

“Is he your uncle?” you asked, nodding to the man. The waiter looked over and nodded. You chuckled, recalling your encounter with the man.

“I recognize him, actually. He came into the shop I work at a few weeks ago and bought a vase.”

The waiter looked back at you, a slightly curious look coming across his features. You went on, smiling softly.

“He was very friendly. He flirted with my boss a bit, and even managed to leave a tip, despite mentioning he was a refugee.”

The waiter huffed a bit, his eyes trailing to the floor. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

It was silent for a moment, as you studied the features of the waiter some more. It occured to you that since his uncle was a refugee, that probably meant the boy was, and he didn’t seem to be all that proud of it. You couldn’t blame him. The Lower Ring was not a place you were fond of either, and the title “refugee” didn’t warrant many perks around here.

“I’m actually a refugee, too.” You said. The boy looked back up at you, his expression unreadable yet again. You looked down into your tea. “I came to Ba Sing Se a few months ago. Can’t say I’ve enjoyed it much, but it’s not all that bad.”

It was silent for a bit. The longer the silence stretched on, the less and less you wanted to make eye contact again. This was incredibly awkward. You found this to be the perfect time to take a sip of your tea, hoping it would act as an excuse as to why you weren’t talking

“What’s your name?” you asked, looking up at him again. A soft smile graced your features, the slightest hint of curiosity stirring in your eyes.

He took a moment to zone back in before speaking. “Lee. My uncle’s name is Mushi.”

You grinned, giving him yours. “It’s nice to meet you, Lee. Please give my compliments to your uncle, by the way. I’m sure you two get this a lot, but this tea is the best I’ve had in years.”

“Yeah, we do,” he said, rather bluntly at first. You were worried you might have annoyed him for a second, but instead, he smiled. “I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

Speaking of the man, Mushi was just beside the table, a plate of cakes in his hand.

“Tell me what?” he asked, a smile

You looked over at his uncle, giving him a bright smile.

“Just how delicious this tea is,” you mused. “I think it might genuinely be the best in Ba Sing Se.”

“Well,” Mushi beamed, placing the plate on the table. “The secret ingredient is love.” He sent a knowing look to Lee, who scrunched up his face at his uncle’s comments. Mushi chuckled, walking to another table to check on one of the customers. Lee sighed, whether in exasperation or relief you couldn’t tell He looked towards you again.

“I probably need to get back to work.”

You nodded. “I understand. Thank you for the tea.”

Lee turned away, going to the back of the shop to clear some tables. Your eyes followed him along the way. You hoped you left the right impression. He didn’t seem to be completely annoyed by you and you were sure his uncle liked you. That’s a start.

You let your thoughts drift away, still looking over at him, only to snap back when he looked up at you and made eye contact. . His cheeks became just the faintest shade of pink, and he immediately looked back down. You did the same, your cheeks becoming warm as you smiled. That blush had to mean something good.

For a moment, things in the tea shop were peaceful. You were enjoying yourself, feeling confident in what you chose to spend your bonus on. Lee had a subtle smile on his face, clearing off a now empty table. Mushi was chatting up the customers, discussing tea and using his charm up on the locals. Everything was fine, at least as fine as it could be.

And then the door slammed open.

“I’m tired of waiting!”

All eyes in the room were now locked on the newcomer, the one who shouted; he was another boy your age, but he seemed to be the polar opposite to Lee. His skin was darker and much more tan, with his hair long and scruffy. He didn’t seem happy to be there. He lifted his hand, pointing all the way to the back of the shop at Lee and Mushi, who both looked very confused.

“These two men are firebenders!”

The stranger unsheathed two swords from his sides, stepping forward in a fighting stance. You immediately stood up from your table, spilling the cup of tea over, and cowered into the wall, wanting to keep a safe distance between you and the boy. The other patrons stood as well. In the other corner of the room, a man held his arms up in front of his date, guarding her just in case anything went south. Two men that had been visiting were now looking at the man with wide eyes and worried faces.

The air around you became tense, fear and confusion clouding your head. Your eyes went back to the men in question. They both looked at each other; they both looked just as confused, their eyes raised in shock. Did they even know this man?

Your left hand drifted to your side, wondering if you had remembered to bring a dagger with you. Unfortunately, like almost every day, you had forgotten. If you made it out of this unscathed, you’d never make that mistake again.

All was silent. Everyone was probably thinking the same things you were. Who was this man? Why did he think Lee and Mushi were firebenders? How am I going to leave if he’s blocking the only exit? Your attention was locked on him, waiting to see what his next move was.

The stranger at the door began to speak again.

“I know they’re firebenders! I saw the old man heating his tea!”

Your brow quirked slightly at that. This was a tea shop. Of course he would be heating some tea.

Apparently you weren’t the only one that thought this, as one of the guards responded making the same point.

The boy looked at the guard. “He’s a firebender, I’m telling you!”

His swords swung up fast, causing you to flinch slightly. The room was getting nervous, and the two guards at the table stood.

“Put your swords down, boy. Nice and easy.”

The man ignored them, turning back to Lee and Mushi, holding up his swords in an “X” shape. He slowly began to approach, speaking with a shake in his voice. “You’ll have to defend yourselves… then everyone will know.”

You weren’t liking the way this was going. The guards didn’t cause the boy to back down at all, only seeming to provoke him even further.

It occurred to you that you could just leave now. He was no longer blocking the door, and it wouldn’t take much effort to just slip away into the night. But you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why, but you couldn’t. Maybe you were curious to see how it all played out. Maybe you were just too scared to try and make a move like that yet. Maybe you were just worried about everyone else’s safety.

You couldn’t tell and it wasn’t that important anyways. You weren’t going anywhere.

“Go ahead,” the boy with swords began to taunt, looking directly at the two of them. “Show them what you can do.”

It was a dare. A jab at their pride. You could tell by the mocking tone that laced the boy’s words. He was confident they were going to use their bending, so confident that it bordered on cocky. By now, he had gotten so close to the two, that the guard began to unsheathe his own swords. Things were going to get ugly. Maybe now was a good time to reconsider that running option.

You heard other footsteps, your train of thought breaking as you realized Lee was stepping forward, a glare on his face.

“You want a show?” he asked, unsheathing the guard’s swords for himself. “I’ll give you a show!”

He pulled the swords apart from each other, entering a fighting stance that didn’t look like anything a tea shop worker would know. His leg stuck out to the side, hooking on the leg of a table and pulling it in front of him. He kicked it, sending it flying towards the stranger.

The stranger didn’t hesitate, flipping over it and slicing it so hard that the table sliced in half, with stray pieces of wood flying across the room. You felt a chunk of wood smack you in the face, slicing your cheek as you winced. You cupped it, feeling blood begin to warm your fingers as it dripped from the cut.

The clashing of swords diverted your attention back to the fight. Lee expertly avoided the boy’s attack, jumping onto the table previously occupied by the guards. Before he could counter his next move, though, the boy sliced through that table too, the wood once again cutting perfectly in half. Lee stumbled, the boy cutting away at each side even more, aiming at his legs. Lee jumped expertly in the air, dodging the boy’s attacks.

You had made very few assumptions about Lee and already felt you had severely underestimated him.

In a quick blur of a moment, the boy had somehow managed to kick Lee back so hard that it broke down the door. You and the rest of the people inside the tea shop rushed to the front, trying to see how things were escalating. Mushi was at the door, most likely worried about the safety of his nephew as the fight stretched on.

The stranger was gaining a slight upper hand, taking advantage of Lee’s disoriented state after having smashed through the door. He swung down at him, his hooks being blocked last minute by Lee’s blades.

The stranger had a grin on his face. “You must be getting tired of using those swords.” He tilted his head, continuing with, “why don’t you go ahead and firebend at me?”

Once again, he was trying to provoke some kind of action out of Lee, trying to exhaust his efforts so that he’d be theoretically forced to firebend at him. It was crazy.

The fight went on, Lee retaliating as best he could. Mushi called out, addressing the stranger, “Please, son, you’re confused! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

His pleas were ignored, the fight continuing with even more vigor. They backed down the street, getting closer and closer to a large square surrounding a well. Mushi began to walk out of the doorway, following the two men as they fought. The rest of the patrons weren’t far behind, some worrying for the safety of the two and others, such as the guards, keeping an eye out for when they’d need to intervene. Your eyes were still glued on Lee, your feet unconsciously moving you along towards him. The strange boy began to taunt Lee once more, this time bringing Mushi into the mix.

“Bet you wish he helped you out with a little fire blast right now!”

He hooked one of his swords on the other, spinning and swinging the swords around like whips. Lee backed away, slamming one of his own swords through the handle of the stranger’s.

“You’re the one who needs help!” Lee yelled, pulling back his swords in a defensive position as the boy recovered, about the swing again. Lee was one step ahead, swinging at the young man’s neck. The young man threw his head back, the sword swiping just above his head, so quick and so clean that a blue streak sparked as it sliced the grass he held between his teeth.

The boy arched forward, flipping back and landing on the edge of the well. He called out to the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight progress.

“You see that? The Fire Nation is trying to silence me!” He looked around at the crowd, the people all staring up at him in confusion. He then turned back to Lee, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “It’ll never happen.”

He reached back and hooked his sword on the wooden bar, swinging back and jumping forward at Lee.

You weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. Neither Lee nor the stranger seemed tired out enough to give the other a good chance at victory, and nobody, not even the guards, was attempting to interfere. Your cheek was beginning to really bother you and you knew that if you didn’t get home soon, you’d most likely wake up late for work tomorrow.

“Mushi, is Lee going to be alright?” you asked, your hands holding your sides. Mushi looked back at you and gave you a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure my nephew will be alright.” He turned back to the fight, his smile faltering a bit. “It’s the other young man that I’m worried about. Lee is not one to back down easily.”

You looked up at Lee again, watching him strategically block each attack made by the stranger. You huffed, beginning to back away, until you saw the crowd to begin to disperse.

“Drop your weapons!” a stern voice called out.

The Dai Li had finally made their appearance.

The boys slow down their fighting, backing away from each other. Neither of them took their eyes off the other, swords still held out defensively, just in case anything else escalated. The stranger spoke first.

“Arrest them!” he called out. “They’re firebenders.”

Mushi was quick to respond, his voice relaxed as he said, “this poor boy is confused. We’re just simple refugees.”

You looked one of the Dai Li agents in the eye and nodded, hoping it would help to have someone agree. Others apparently had the same idea, as the manager came to their defense as well.

“This young man wrecked my tea shop and assaulted my employees!” He pointed over at you, more specifically the cut on your cheek. “He even injured one of my customers!”

The guards that Lee got his swords from nodded. “It’s true, sir. We saw the whole thing. This crazy kid attacked the finest teamaker in the city.”

Mushi awed, blushing.

“That’s very sweet.”

The Dai Li agents walked up to the stranger, one on each side of him.

“Come with us son.”

The boy gritted his teeth, quickly swinging the sword in his right hand behind him to strike the Dai Li, only for it to land right in the palm of one. The agent twisted his arm back, the other helping to restrain him with their gloves made of Earth. Once they were sure he was unable to break free, they began to drag him back, the crowd dispersing and revealing a detainment cart. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the young man. You hadn’t ever heard anything good about the Dai Li. People who were taken into their custody either never came back or never came back the same. It was why you wanted to avoid them as much as possible, as detainment rates were especially high among refugees, at least from what you had heard.

You watched as the boy looked around desperately. “You don’t understand, they’re Fire Nation! You have to believe me!”

The crowd and you could only watch in silence as he was pulled into the cart, the back doors shutting on him. By now, most of the crowd was dispersing, none paying any particular attention to the boy anymore. You squeezed your sides, frowning, wondering what would come of the boy.

Mushi sighed, shaking his head and turning towards you. “Are you alright, Miss?

You glanced up, giving him a soft smile. “I’m fine, thank you. Do you remember how much my order was?”

“Please,” you heard behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see the manager of the tea shop there, smiling sympathetically. “The tea is free of charge. Consider it an apology for all of the ruckus.”

You shook your head, blushing slightly. “Thank you, that’s very kind, but tables are not cheap to replace.” You pulled out half of the cash you had brought that night and handed it to him with a smile. “If you need to replace any of your dishes, feel free to visit Miss Kang’s Pottery Shop. I can make sure you receive a discount.”

He nodded and wished you a good night, walking into the shop to inspect the damage. Mushi followed, leaving you by yourself. Well, not completely anyway.

You looked back at where Lee had been fighting, watching Lee hand back the swords to the guards he had taken them from.

“You’ve got some serious skill, son. You should consider applying to the police academy, you could seriously make a difference.”

Lee didn’t go as far as to smile, but he did nod and give a small thank you. The guards waved goodbye, and Lee began to walk back to the shop, his mind clearly somewhere else. You watched him come up to you, deciding to talk to him again.

“Are you alright? That fight was… pretty intense.”

He began to focus again, looking at you. “I’m alright, just a little worn out.”

You smiled, a wave of relief washing over you. “That’s good.”

He nodded. “Actually, you seem like you got more hurt than I did. Is that cut okay?”

You blushed, placing a hand over your cheek, feeling the dry blood that had stuck to your face. “Yeah. It stings a bit, but I’ve got some stuff at home that should help.”

“That’s… that’s good,” he said a bit awkwardly. You chuckled softly, walking over to his side so you could go inside with him.

When you got inside, the manager and Mushi immediately stopped the two of you.

“Hold on you two,” the manager began.

“Young lady, considering all of the ruckus that has taken place tonight, I was wondering if you’d mind letting Lee escort you home,” Mushi asked, a considerate look on his face.

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping slightly as you began to blush. You didn’t want to force Lee into any kind of position like that, especially since you had literally met less than an hour ago.

“W-well I… I’m not sure if that would be necessary, sir, especially since you might need Lee to help clean up the shop,” you stammered, looking over at Lee who was equally confused and uncertain about this.

“No, no, I insist. Lee would have no problem walking such a kind girl to her home, especially after the night being so inconveniencing for you.”

You literally got scratched on the face, why was everyone acting like you had lost a limb?

A pink flush came over Lee’s face, his eyes looking anywhere but you as the manager and Mushi began to corner you both to the door.

“Please be careful, but be sure to take your time! The night is beautiful, no need to waste it!”

And with that, you both were shoved onto the path outside of the shop, the once busy street now completely empty except for the two of you. Your face was hot and red, unable to look up from your feet below you. Lee was looking to the side, from what you could tell, and you had no idea what he was thinking. He was probably annoyed, angry even that he was now stuck with you. First, the crazy kid accused him of being a fire bender of all things and now his uncle and boss were making him babysit you.

He wasn’t looking at you, and he wasn’t moving either. Maybe you could just book it, give him an excuse to go back in and never go to the shop again. Maybe you could just disappear and he wouldn’t make you out to be a burden. Maybe you could just apologize and leave, then go home and forget this whole night had never happened. Perhaps that would be best.

A sigh leaving your companion’s lips quickly made that decision for you, though.

“So… where do you live?”

It had gotten really late. Most of the city was already asleep, with their lights off and windows shut. If it weren’t for the stars that hung up above, you probably wouldn't be able to see the path in front of you. You and Lee had been walking for quite some time now, not a word passing between the two of you. You took a breath, deciding that it was time you said something.

“You were very impressive in that fight back there.”

His eyes widened a bit as he looked over at you, probably surprised you had said something.

“Oh, um… thanks.”

“Where did you learn to do all of that?”

He shrugged.

“I’ve picked up a few things from my uncle.”

You smiled.

“Was he a guard where you used to live?”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes lost in thought.

“Sort of.”

You looked back down at the ground, not knowing where to take the conversation from there.

You sighed, your cheerful demeanor sinking. You stopped walking, holding your forehead with your hand and taking in a deep breath. Lee took a few more steps before he realized you had stopped. He turned towards you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

You looked up at him with tired eyes and began to speak. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be bothering you so much. I haven’t had anyone to talk to for a while now, I guess I just got a bit ahead of myself.”

He took a minute to think before responding. “Do you not live with anyone?”

You shook your head, frowning slightly. “No. My family sent me away from our village by myself. It was urgent and they didn’t have enough money for all of us to come to Ba Sing Se.”

You blinked, looking at the path in front of you with a blank stare.

“I haven’t heard from them in months. I don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep, painful breath, beginning to walk again.

“Thank you for walking me this far. I can get home just fine from here.”

It was a moment before you heard his footsteps begin to pick up again behind you. Your face contorted into one of confusion, as suddenly Lee was by your side again. You opened your mouth to speak again, about to insist that he didn’t need to walk with you, but he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry,” he began, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not very good with people.”

You hummed, a small smile returning to your lips.

“It’s alright. I’m not exactly a people person, either. I shouldn’t have been so pushy with you in the first place.”

“You weren’t that pushy. At least compared to some people I’ve met.”

You chuckled, feeling a little less nervous being around him.

“Thank you. I’m glad I don’t come across that way,” you mused.

He nodded, and for the next few minutes, you both walked together in silence, with you guiding him down the paths you needed to take home and him being vigilant for any crooks that might’ve been hiding out somewhere. After a while, he brought up conversation again.

“How old are you, exactly?”

You shrugged. “I’m about fifteen. You?”

“Sixteen.”

“You look like you’d be older,” you said, though it came out the wrong way you meant it to. “Not in, like, a bad way, though! Like you just seem more mature, I guess.”

“Um, yeah, I could say the same about you.”

Right, you still looked exhausted. You sighed, reaching up to rub the back of your neck.

“Yeah, I don’t exactly look all that youthful right now. I haven’t slept much lately and work has just been really difficult.

His eyes widened as he began to stammer. “No, not like I think you look old or anything, you look plenty young! It’s just, you look like you could be sixteen or seventeen.”

You gave him a thankful smile, though it wasn’t all that genuine. “Thank you, but I’d have to disagree.”

He looked away from you, unsure of what to say next. You didn’t quite know what to say either, so you changed the subject.

“Hey, I’m sorry if this question bothers you, but did you know that young man that attacked you in the tea shop?”

“Why do you ask?”

You shrugged, feeling a bit stupid for asking. “Well, I don’t know. He just seemed to have recognized you from somewhere else.”

Lee sighed, fiddling with the string on his apron absentmindedly.

“Yeah. We came to Ba Sing Se on the same ferry. He told me about how the Fire Nation killed his parents and such. Then he saw my uncle buy a cup of tea from a vendor and I guess he just thought he firebended somehow.”

You frowned, feeling just a little bit bad about what happened to the boy.

“No wonder he was so dead set on attacking you. He’s probably traumatized.”

He huffed. “Yeah. Probably.”

Your mind kept going back to the young man being dragged back and thrown into the cart with the Dai Li, a knot beginning to form in your stomach. It didn’t seem like Lee knew the gravity of being put into the custody of the Dai Li and just how terrifying of a sentiment it was to you.

“I don’t take it you know much about the Dai Li, do you?” you asked, cautiously, as if anybody could be listening to you right now, as they actually very well could.

He looked over at you with narrowed eyes.

“My uncle has told me enough that I know not to mention the war, but other than that, I can’t say I do.”

You sighed, looking around you for any places someone could be hiding or listening.

“Whenever someone is taken by the Dai Li, they either don’t come back or they don’t come back the same. There have been cases where men who were in the Dai Li’s possession were released with no idea who their own families were. It’s really unsettling and it’s one of those things I hate about being a refugee here.”

He nodded. “I can see why. I don’t understand what the Earth Kingdom would have to gain from banning the mention of the war, though.”

“Neither do I, but it happens nonetheless.”

The conversation could’ve gone on for hours at that point, but by now, you had finally reached your quaint, little apartment. You stopped at the door and turned to him fully, folding your hands together and smiling.

“Well,” you said quietly, looking up at him with tired eyes. “Thank you for walking me home, Lee. It was really nice meeting you.”

He nodded. “It was nice meeting you, too. I’m sorry I didn’t give the best first impression.”

You giggled quietly, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I’m definitely going to be visiting the tea shop again soon, so I wouldn’t say you left a horrible impression on me.”

“I’m sure my uncle will be happy to hear that.”

you smiled, taking your key out of your pocket and unlocking your door. Lee took that as his cue to leave, turning away from you and beginning to walk down the road you both took. You opened your door just a little bit, glancing over your shoulder back at Lee. You puffed your cheeks out a bit as you left the door ajar, walking over to him and calling out his name.

He turned back to face you, his face blushing a soft pink when he realized how close you were. With that, you planted a soft kiss on his cheek, whispering a meek “goodbye” before running back into your house.

You slammed the door, your face hot and bright red as butterflies soared around your chest. You groaned, sliding down the door and hiding your face in your hands. You couldn’t tell if you felt more euphoric or embarrassed. Whatever, it didn’t matter right now. You’d leave the shame and embarrassment to your future self, as right now, you were exhausted and needed to go to bed.

What a way to end the day.

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babyflossy · 5 years ago

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exposed | p.js

pairing: jisung x reader

requested: i’m working on loads of request atm but when i saw this i had to write it straight away lmao

summary: when dispatch reveals your secret realtionship with jisung to the public, the fans aren’t the only ones surprised.

warnings/genre: unedited, kinda just self-indulgent fluff, lots of words, not much happens

word count: 1.7k

a hand on your shoulder breaks you from your slumber, words already being spoken at you. in your sleepy haze, they floated straight through your head, mind still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. as soon as you recognise the voice as your manager’s, your eyes snap open, meeting equally wide ones over the head of your manager. haemee, your leader, shoots you an apologetic look, something unsettling for so early in the morning.

“what happened?” the words are quiet and tired and your manager sighs in pity, handing over their phone. your eyes squint in response to the brightness, stomach dropping when your eyes finally focus on the news article.

BREAKING; DISPATCH REVEALS UQS’ Y/N AND NCT’S JISUNG ARE DATING.

the title is accompanied by three photos; one of you at a fansign, smiling at a fan, one of jisung waving at a camera in the airport, and then a blurring photo of two figures walking hand in hand through a park at night. the park you and jisung had visited two weeks ago.

“there’s a meeting at the company. can you get ready quickly, please?” despite the ‘scandal’ and the stress your manager was most likely under, she shoots you a comforting smile and ruffles your hair before leaving, phone already ringing.

as soon as you and haemee are left alone you reach for your phone, feeling the bed dip as she sits beside you. she rests a hand on your shoulder, rubbing her fingers down your back soothingly. your lockscreen in full of text messages. you thumb through them, seeing many from jisung, along with the other nct members you were close with. you ignored them all, only searching for the ones from your boyfriend.

jisungie <3: have you seen it yet?

jisungie <3: call me when you see this

jisungie <3: are you okay?

jisungie <3: i know you didn’t want ppl to find out like this

jisungie <3: let me know you’re okay plzzz x

“it’s gonna be fine, you know?” haemee’s hands abandon your shoulder and take your phone out of your grasp, tipping your chin so she can look at you. there’s still a smile on her face and you’re reminded of why she’s the group’s leader instead of anyone else; always able to keep things calm. “think about all the other idols that have dated. i bet the fans were expecting this, anyway.”

that was probably correct, you knew. ever since you and jisung had starred on a dancing show in america together, your social medias were full of edits of the two of you, compilations of your interactions from the vlogs you had filmed. as jisung wasn’t fluent in english you had translated for him and done the speaking whenever you ordered food, giving the fans loads of things to include in their edits.

the show had been fun and you had kept in close contact with jisung after it ended, eventually deciding to start dating after months of pining over each other. since then, only haemee, taeyong and the company knew, although you expected chenle knew as well due to the teasing you got whenever you met jisung outside of your training hours.

when haemee left you to get ready you took your phone back, unlocking it and calling jisung as you flicked through your wardrobe, trying to find your hoodie. the call connected after the first ring, jisung’s voice echoing over the line and into your bedroom.

“are you okay?” although there was high chance you were about to be scolded for days, the worry in jisung made your heart beat just a little faster, a reluctant smile taking over your face.

“i’m fine. what about you?” spotting the lilac hoodie at the end of your closet, you pulled your sleep shirt, jisung’s shirt, over your head, replacing it with the warm softness of the purple material. you followed it with a pair of jeans, slipping a face mask on after realising there would probably be reporters outside the SM building already.

“yeah, i’m fine now. i freaked out at first, though,” he chuckled, shouts coming through from his end. “jaemin came in screaming about how he was so betrayed i didn’t tell him, i had no idea what he was talking about.”

“what’d you think is gonna happen?”

there was a pause before he spoke and you had time to grab your bag, throwing in your headphones and a spare mask along with a pair of sunglasses incase. “i’m not sure, taeyong said he’s hopeful, though. so it might not be that bad. it’s not like the company’s finding out about it, though, so it might just be press and stuff.”

“yeah, i hope so. i’ll see you in fifteen minutes i guess,” before you left the safety of your bedroom, you reached for the bucket hat hanging from the corner of your chair, pulling it over your face to hide your eyes. you looked ridiculous, like you were planning to rob a bank, but you guessed it was better than the alternative; hundreds of photos released of your sleep-deprived, drooping eyes.

no one else in the dorm is awake and you’re able to slip out the front door before haemee catched you again, taking a deep breath before heading outside to the car waiting. as it’s just you and your manager, you’re able to sit in the front seat, something you would normally be ecstatic about but due to circumstance it feels lonely and cold. not a word is spoken until the car reaches the entrance to the SM building, throngs of people with cameras waiting outside the front door.

“we’ll go in the back entrance.” you manager says with a frown, eyeing the reporters with concern. “god, it’s impossible to get any privacy nowadays.”

after security escorts you through the back door, pushing reporters out the way when they got too close, you can finally breath properly. for the most part you ignored their questions, signing the first song that comes to mind in your head to distract yourself. ironically, it’s chewing gum, and you realise with resentment it’s going to be stuck in your head throughout the meeting.

upstairs, taeyong and jisung sit on the opposite side of a glass table, two seats left open for you and your manager. their manager stands and motions for him and your manager to talk privately outside, leaving you with the two boys. you take off your hat as you sit down, pulling you mask down so you can talk properly. jisung’s tired eyes crinkle with a smile when you do, a smile you return eagerly.

for a moment you see taeyong think over what to say in his head, trying to find the right words for the situation. eventually, he settles on what your own leader had already told you. “i’m sure this will be fine,” and as if he realises how cliche his words are, he adds “in the end.”

“in the end? what’s that supposed to mean?” jisung tears his eyes away from you to look at the older boy.

“well, i mean, it’s gonna be a big deal at the start,” he states matter of factly, eyes switching between the two of you. the voice he uses is just as level and calm as the one haemee uses whenever she’s trying to sort something out, it must be a universal thing. “the press and the fans will go crazy for a bit, let alone everyone you didn’t tell.”

the reminder makes you dread going back home, knowing the rest of your members will blow this way out of proportion. you were the youngest, and they always managed to be overdramatic whenever it came to you ‘growing up’ as they had put it so many times. none of them knew you were dating jisung, and you could already picture the gloomy pouts you would get for the next few weeks.

after your managers returned, a few more staff entered, filling the last few seats and closing the door, successfully locking you in. they talked for what felt like hours, only occasionally asking you or jisung a question. they decided the easiest thing would be to just come out and admit it, allowing you and jisung a moment to disagree. you locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation between yourselves. you raised you eyebrows in question, taking the minuscule nod he sent your way to be the go-ahead.

“i don’t see why not,” you answered for the both of you, smiling at your manager who nodded in agreement back at you.

you don’t get a chance to say goodbye to jisung properly before you leave the building, the staff ushering you in opposite directions to get your schedules for the day started. in the car on the way back to the dorms you send him a text promising to facetime when you both have time, mentally preparing yourself for the confrontation from your members.

“you’re dating jisung?” is the first thing you hear when the front door opens, closely followed by “why didn’t you tell us?” which is swiftly followed by “i can’t believe you’re the first one to date anyone, it’s not fair.”

“that’s mean.” you smile back at the oldest, laughing at the disbelieving smiles covering their faces. “why are you guys so surprised? you didn’t think i could do it?”

“whatever, but, why didn’t you tell us?”

“in my defense, the company told us not to tell anyone.”

for the next few days, your group’s twitter was hectic. you trended on twitter for nearly a solid day, photos and edits and memes of you and jisung together filling your timeline. there were the negative comments, obviously, from jealous fans of both fandoms, some even claiming you should both be removed from your respective groups. they were easy to ignore when the positive comments and the text messages from your boyfriend outweighed them astronomically.

jisungie <3: as much as i hate to say it.. taeyong was right x

a/n: if you got this far im acc proud of you lmao i rlly dont like this but it's been a kinda mentally exhausting day for me so im gonna post anyway and edit tomorrow x

#park jisung imagines #park jisung x reader #nct imagines #nct x reader #jisung imagines #jisung x reader #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct idol au #idol!reader #nct #nct dream #park jisung fluff #jisung fluff #nct jisung imagine #jisung #nct fluff #nct dream imagine

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gwynrielendgame · 4 years ago

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Sad nessian part 3

Nyx pov

This is not a super popular fanfic of mine but I had this written (truly it is not edited) but I hate leaving anyone hanging so this is for you! @haepaw

Nyx loved pissing off his father. Even at the young age of 137 (young in fae years) Nyx found any excuse to disobey his father, including participating in underground fighting rings. He wouldn't lie, he also liked the boost to his ego his undefeated title gave him, but mostly he did it because his father told him not too.

"Remind me why I come to this again? Mom would kick all of our asses if she knew about this." Velaris grumbled from her seat next to them. Nyx's two younger sisters came to these fights with him. They always said it was because they didn't want him hurting himself, but he thought part of them wanted to disobey their father as well.

"Mom won't find out." Violet rolled her purple eyes- the only one to receive that trait from their father. "And because we can't let him get killed. It would be terrible for the night court's image."

They all sat side by side on a bench, waiting for the next fight to begin. Nyx was fighting someone new tonight and he was excited about it. He was tired of easily defeating the same fighters every week. He began to wrap his hands while his oldest sister, Velaris, continued to ramble.

"I'm a terrible liar." She groaned. "One look from Azriel and I'll jabber like a canary. I cannot believe I have managed to keep it a secret this long. I have to avoid everyone for at least a day after. Ugh why must you be on a mission to piss off dad at least every five seconds. Could you not try getting along for moth-" Thankfully Velaris was cut off by the announcer. Nyx jumped to his feet, hopping from one foot to the other as his fight was about to start. He began walking to the ring when Violet called out.

"Good luck."

"I don't need it." He sent her a cocky smile before stepping on the mat. He cracked his neck then looked at his opponent. It was a female- Illyrian by the looks of her wings. He was surprised to find they were not clipped. As much as his father tried to put a stop to the outdated practice, most females found themselves being clipped at some point anyways. She was beautiful, almost looked familiar to him. He felt as though he knew her, but at the same time knew he didn't. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a way that showed off her sharp cheekbones while her large eyes were hazel- a typical Illyrian trait. He was trying not to seem thrown off by the pretty female, however, that was much easier said than done. He had only fought one other female and she closely resembled a troll, so her looks had not played much of a factor. The female sent him a wicked smile before tapping both wrists. Illyrian armor began to cover every inch of her as seven, red siphons appeared. Nyx finally let his astonishment show. Not a single Illyrian female was awarded siphons. So how did she get seven of them?

"Where did you get those?" He narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't appear as thief's normally do. She also didn't appear to be a female to participate in an underground fighting ring, so perhaps his radar was off.

"I didn't steal them if that is what you are insinuating." That same coy smile graced her lips. Her voice was low for a females, but once again it sounded almost familiar to Nyx.

"Fight." The announcer sounded off, and the female was instantly a whirlwind of movement. Before Nyx could even reacted, she slammed her fist into his face.

"Fuck." After that stunningly powerful punch, Nyx focused himself into fight mode. He found it hard to keep up with the raven-haired female though. She was using a blend of fighting skills that Nyx was unfamiliar with, and he felt as though he was playing the game of catch-up the entire fight. He was always one step behind her.

"Come on, Nyx! That was pathetic." The oldest brother rolled his eyes at the shout that could only have come from Violet. It was not until the female back-handed Nyx that he realized she was toying with him. His face burned with embarrassment.

"Fucking fight. No need to go easy on me." He grunted as he spit blood from his mouth. The female- he realized he did not listen when the announcer said her name- laughed. She was bruised up pretty badly herself, but Nyx knew it was nothing compared to how he looked. Her siphons flared brightly.

"Aww. Poor High lord's son. Has anyone ever fought you with all their strength?" She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout to continue to tease the male. It struck a chord with him though. He was tired of being babied. He was the oldest son of the two most powerful fae in Pyrinthian and heir to the night court-dammit. He suddenly realized why he liked this fight so much though, she had gone harder on him than anyone else ever had- except for his dead cousin. It fueled him to fight harder. He threw out a fist that connected with her temple. She was definitely seeing stars from the way she stumbled. He guessed she was not expecting that. It had Nyx snickering. She returned with a few well placed jabs that the male knew would be sore in the morning.

"You look Familiar. Do I know you?" Nyx found himself saying as they circled one another. They were both breathing heavy at this point.

"No. Might know my sister though." She threw a kick that connected with Nyx's head. His body splayed out on the ground as he groaned. She did not let up. She sent punch after punch to his face while locking his arms down with her legs. He knew the knockout punch was coming, and so did she because her mouth was by his ear as she whispered.

"Tell Rhysand that Amara sends her regards." His eyes did not even have time to widen before she knocked him out. His last thought revolved around Amara.

Amara was dead and had been for 37 years.

When Nyx finally came too, his sisters pounced on him instantly.

"Oh thank the cauldron! I had no idea what we were going to tell mom and dad if you did not wake up within the next thirty minutes." Velaris practically screeched. He realized then that he was in his room, laying in his bed. Both Velaris and Violet were sitting on the end of it staring him down.

"What happened?" He groaned. Last thing he remembered was the mystery female telling him something about his dead cousin. Violet snorted.

"You lost dumbass. Velaris and I had to fly you to the house of wind by ourselves after you refused to wake up. She knocked you out cold." That would explain why his head was pounding. Fuck, she destroyed him.

"Yeah and you are heavy as shit." Velaris felt the need to chip in. He rolled his eyes before sitting up.

"Did either of you manage to catch her name?" It was impossible for her to be Amara. He remembered what Amara looked like and it was not that. Though, now that he thought about it, he realized why she looked so familiar. She looked similar to Amara. Perhaps a sister? Not impossible, but severely unlikely. His aunt Nesta struggled to conceive any children the entire time he knew her.

"I think it was Elle something? They did not announce it like normal, but I overheard someone call her that." Velaris answered while beginning to look over his injuries, her blue-grey eyes a mask of concern. Nothing seemed to hurt quite as bad as his head.

"I think I could sleep for three hundred years." He muttered.

"Good thing we have dinner at the house in thirty minutes." Violet chirped up. She was looking way too perky for someone who just watched their brother get the shit beat out of him.

"There's no way I'm going to that." He fell back in his bed and pulled the covers over his face once Velaris was done with his exam.

"Too bad." Violet replied in a sing-song voice. "Mom said she had something important to share with us and I am putting money down that she is pregnant again." Velaris groaned.

"She better not be. I am much too young to be taking care of their child while they galavant off to gods knows where." The oldest of the high lord's daughters had always taken on a motherly role. Even though, Nyx was five years her senior, she found herself babysitting both Nyx and Violet more often than not growing up.

"You better get your ass up, so Velaris can cover those bruises with makeup- wouldn't want to keep mother waiting." The younger sister strolled out of the bedroom, her purple dress sashaying behind her.

Nyx did not know how to broach the conversation about Amara. There was no sly or subtle way to insert it into the conversation. He did not want to discuss it at all, however, he felt this was too important to keep from his parents. They all sat around the dinner table while discussing very unimportant matters. Mor and Velaris were squabbling excitedly about something, Gwyn and Azriel were discussing daggers with Violet, and Feyre and Rhysand were murmuring quietly amongst each other. Only Nyx remained silent. That was enough to catch his mother's attention apparently.

"What troubles you, Nyx?" Feyre's eyes brimmed with concern for her oldest son. He was hardly ever quiet, usually deciding to pick a fight with his father.

"There is no way Amara could be alive right?" He spit out. The silence the befell the room was deafening. His mother's concerned look turned to a sharp one- almost a glare while his father ground his teeth together. Both his sisters gave him a look. A look to say shut up before it is too late. Mor finally spoke up after almost five minutes of silence.

"Amara is dead. I saw Koschei kill her myself. We all did." He looked toward the beautiful female. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"Why do you ask, son?" His mother responded in a defeated tone. He did not mean to cause all of this, but apparently time had not lessened the pain of her death.

"I met a female." He started. Both his sisters' eyes widened as though they thought he was going to out all of them. They clearly did not need to add underground fighting rings to the list of things that will piss off mom and dad tonight. He also did not miss the look that Gwyn and Azriel shared. "She said to tell you," he gave his father a pointed look. "That Amara sends her regards." His father's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his son. Rhysand wanted to make sure this was not another ploy to piss him off.

"What was her name?" Feyre interrupted her mate before he could say anything. Nyx began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. Clearly he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Elle something? I did not catch all of it. She looked like Amara. I mean she looks different than her, but similar enough that maybe they are sisters?" Nyx suggested. He watched as his mother and father shared a meaningful look.

"Who is Amara?" Violet had the courage to ask. She was much braver than Nyx. If their positions were switched, he would have kept his mouth shut. He always forgot that Violet was born the year after Amara died. While Velaris was only five years younger than him, Violet was one hundred and one years his junior. She was practically an infant in fae years at only thirty six years old. Technically, fae reached full maturity at twenty-five years, but when you live an immortal life, thirty-six seems young.

"Your cousin." Feyre whispered. Nyx's attention was caught by Azriel's shadows that were clearly hard at work. They were moving around much more than they had been earlier, indicating they were on a mission for information.

"I did not know Aunt Elain had another child." Violet offered to ease the tension. It only seemed to make it worse though.

"She does not." Their mother began. She finally set her silverware down and pushed her plate away. As if she knew that she would be unable to eat anything else for the rest of the night. Her voice was filled with such sorrow and regret that Nyx wished he never brought it up. If only to avoid hearing his mother sound that way. "I have another sister, Nesta. She is mated to Cassian, who I am sure you have seen pictures of around the house. She struggled to have children and when Amara died, it destroyed her. She blamed all of us and denounced us as family. We have not heard from her since."

"Do not leave out why she blames you." Gwyn snapped. It was the first she had said since Amara had been brought up. She was clenching her knife tightly. A stray shadow wrapped around her wrist causing the mates to have some sort of silent conversation.

"She blames all of us because of me." Rhysand finally admitted. Not even Nyx knew the whole story and Amara was his best friend at the time. Nyx sat at the edge of his seat, anxious to finally hear what happened to his cousin.

"I sent Amara on a mission she was not prepared for. She was captured by Koschei and killed in front of Nesta and Cassian, killed in front of all of us." His father's voice was tense- for obvious reasons, but he could see the hurt behind his eyes. Nyx could see the pain his father felt about the role he played in Amara's demise. "Your mother and I thought Amara was immortal- more so than the rest of us anyways. Nesta had great power that was passed to Amara and it manifested in such a powerful way that we assumed she was more immune to death. We were wrong. Nesta was a dangerous female with unknown power. She had threatened to take your life, Nyx, in retribution for the role I played. Cassian, himself, threatened to kill me. However, when the opportunity presented itself, the mates left and have yet to return. I suppose Nesta being pregnant at the time would explain why neither of them have sought revenge after all this time." Rhysand let out a long, contemplative sigh at the end of his explanation. Nyx was more than a little shocked to discover his favorite Aunt had threatened to kill him. He was devastated by her disappearance especially since no one would explain why they left. He found it hard to believe that his uncle Cassian would allow his mate to do something so drastic, but perhaps grief makes monsters of us all.

"Befriend the female, Nyx." His father suddenly demanded. His tone changing from one of grief and regret to his commanding High Lord voice. Nyx found it grating. "Many fae learned of Amara's demise. Someone could be trying to trick us. Best to keep the enemy close, yes?" Rhysand lifted an eyebrow at his son. The entire table knew that Nyx could not disobey the High Lord command. They also knew he would try his damnedest to piss off his father.

"And what if she is Nesta and Cassian's daughter? What then?" Nyx held his breathe as his father contemplated.

"Then we kidnap her and hope the couple will hear us out before killing the entire city of Velaris."

#nesta acheron #cassian #nessian #nyx acotar #acotar #acosf

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littlefreya · 5 years ago

Text

The Way to Hell - Part 6

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Summary: Post Mi6 - August manages to escape with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. With every agent in the world on the hunt for him, life became a living hell, but that’s okay because hell is where he reigns.

Too bad for the woman who’ll stand in his way.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) | August Walker x ofc Suzy

Word count: 5K

Warnings: Dark themes, rough oral sex, gagging, hinted anal, mentions of rough sex, and August twisted thoughts.

A/N: The adventures of August and Ingvild continue 💖 thanks again for reading and giving me your feedback, it keeps me fueled so keep it up :D! Of course thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.

Title: Stargazer

The love boat sets sail through the icy water of the North Sea. The apostle, Knight_of_Cockn3ss, or whatever that kid’s name is, wasn’t joking when he mentioned a romantic cruise.

The traitorous sun hangs mid-sky as August trails across the deck. A beige fedora covers his dark curls and a matching cream-coloured suit over his sturdy body. In his right hand rests his laptop, he is not daring to leave it out of sight even for a minute. His eyes observe the surroundings; he must be the only single person on this trip, surrounded by timid couples on the verge of divorce and sugar daddies with their sugar babies.

‘At least the young girls are pretty.’ August greets a tall blonde, holding one hand behind his back and giving her a small bow before continuing on his way.

He’ll have to endure this trip for a couple more days, which isn’t ideal by any means, but he can’t risk getting caught or killed. Airports all over the world are swarming with security guards, agents, and assassins on really fucking high alert by now, all of them waiting for him.

The irony of the situation is that a long time ago used to be one of them. A wanted target on a scale of world catastrophe would spin a web of agents worldwide and Agent Walker would always get there first. That’s why they called him “The Hammer” - he nailed each target on the head, among other things.

No one cared about torture and extreme violence. He once brought back a target in such a dire condition that Erica was forced to send him to psych evaluation. He bluntly told the psychiatrist he enjoys the violence for no particular reason why, and then fucked her over the desk.

He scoffs at the memory, breaking into a wolfish grin.

Standing on the rail, his gaze is glued to the blue horizon, following the trail of sea-foam left by the boat as it slices through the water, disturbing the peaceful life beneath the sea. Slowly, his chaotic mind begins to drift, reveries of the CIA reminding him of her.

Golden locks of hair glow like hot sand on a summer day. Sweetly, she jokes about buying a yacht, telling Erica to fuck off so they can leave everything behind, and sail into freedom.

Memories are perfidious. Why has she been on his mind so much as of late? She’s been dead for years, flesh eaten by worms and the insects.

She is no more but a sack of rotting bones.

To condemn her memory is more than she deserves.

August’s nostrils flare. For whatever reason, his mind wanders to the girl who lived. Gently snorting, he shakes his head, remembering the condition of how he left ‘poor little’ Ingvild; half-naked, wrists tied up to the bed, probably crying to whatever father figure she has.

After what he did to her, she’ll probably retire from Icarus.

“I’m coming after you,” he mimics her voice in his head, and laughs while making his way toward the stack of beach lounge chairs. The section is nearly empty as most of the lovebirds are dinning in the main hall and unlike the degenerated visitors of this cruise, he is here solely on business.

Much work is left to be done. “Knight” has promised to meet him in London’s sky tower, suggesting he may or may not have a source of plutonium. Whether he’s a broker, a source, or a possible troll matters very little to a man on the run. Desperate times are ahead; he may be sticking his neck out, might be stepping into an obvious trap, but choice is scarce at the moment.

‘This is not the type of anarchy I dreamed of.’

That little girl, Ingvild, was the first to come. There will be others, endless more until the world will fall apart.

“I’ll keep coming after you.” Her voice hinges on his troubled mind.

He opens his laptop with a groan, trying to ignore the truth that lies on his mind like a pile of heavy brick.

‘You should have left her pretty face to die in the bottom of the lake.’

“Oh, but to miss out on all the fun that followed in that bedroom?” he speaks to himself quietly, unlocking his laptop with a retinal scan.

Luckily, his old drive is still accessible on the cloud he encrypted. Years of work and dirt collected on the CIA and the government nestles on a single server. The ugly truth, the lies, the corruptness. Thick and black like a pit filled of tar.

Erica Sloane has her own dedicated special folder. Personal vendetta was never on his agenda, it was never about revenge, it was about a cause but sweet Erica deserves whatever damnation he could think of. He hopes that when he detonates his nuclear bombs, that once this world falls apart, she’ll sit on a front-row seat to see her failures raining down like fire from the sky.

A vicious smirk paints his face as his fingertips slide onto the touchpad. August scans through his many folders, seeking a specific one regarding illegal weapon deals. It would be a lovely afternoon at the CIA had one of these recordings or documents would find their way to the public eye.

August slides the cursor around, entering one of the CIA’s subfolders when his smile fades away.

He thought he deleted her folder a long time ago, but it seems like mistakenly, he placed it in another section instead.

And now here it is. A name he thought he’d never see again: Lacey.

Strange, he hardly remembers what she looked like. How long has it been? Six? Seven years ago? In his dreams, she’s nothing but a rotting corpse, but the mind has a tendency to alter one’s memory, doesn’t it?

Was she even sweet at all?

‘Manipulation was her strongest trait anyway.’

Without mustering a mother breath, he deletes the folder, and proceeds to search for the files he means to leak. He muses if they caught up with the notion that it was him who poisoned the well this entire time. Years of stirring chaos while sitting with his laptop of his bed while Sloane and her high-ranking management freaked out and did all that’s in their power to cover shit up.

It was so hard to keep a poker face and pretend he is trying to help. One particular time, he got so ecstatic he had to go and jack off in the men’s room.

‘That was a good one.’

Something abruptly disturbs his attention, making his heart nearly drop.

‘It can’t be, is that...?’

A petite brunette passes through the lounge, joyfully trodding along the deck. Her hair is tucked back into a ponytail. No, it can’t be her, not in the situation he left her at. By what sort of dark magic would she exactly appear here out of nowhere?

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if the little Valkyrie turns out to be some sort of a witch.’

The brunette feels his gaze upon her figure and turns. He is met with a brown, warm gaze, rather than the sharp icy lustre that is Ingvild’s trademark. Less pretty as well, but looks about the same age, perhaps a year or two younger.

Another sugar baby, weary and discontent.

August realises he must have been staring with a dumbfounded look as she decides to smile back and make her way to him.

“Good afternoon,” she greets in a Midwestern accent. August’s eyes focus on her painted lips and in his mind, he imagines wiping that cotton candy pink lipstick by his thumb.

“Afternoon,” he smiles kindly, tipping his fedora with a welcoming bow.

Always the gentleman.

The young woman moves to sit on the seat in front of him, crossing her legs together as she takes in his sight. She observes and assesses how old he is and how much money he must own.

Probably looking for a new target.

‘Not old enough to be your daddy, but you can still call me that if it floats your boat.’

“Are you a secret agent?” She jokes, peering at his laptop before he smooths his hand on the lid to shuts it. He pretends to be intrigued by her senseless, obvious seduction when his mind once again forced him to go back and compare her to living-dead girl.

It seems like he can’t get away from her. Perhaps her threats were a curse? Even halfway across the sea, this total stranger reignites his curiosity.

‘Does Ingvild has any values? Any empathy toward others?’

She did experience fear in those little moments when his knife penetrated her soft little gut - that look in her eyes; like a virgin, fucked extremely rough for the very first time.

Thinking of those big, terrified eyes light up a snarl on his bewhiskered lip.

There was an inch of vulnerability in that sweet farewell kiss, a sense lost look on her face as if she couldn’t fit that emotion into any drawer inside her brain. It made her look so much more beautiful.

He wonders what she would have looked like if he went ahead with his besser urges and fucked her.

‘Maybe she’d finally break into tears. Fuck, I’d love to see her cry.’

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He interrupts the sassy brunette as she speaks of Lord-knows-what. It seems that she doesn’t even realise he wasn't listening to her for the last 5 minutes she been babbling . The girl smiles sweetly, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. The diamond bracelet that decorated her wrist dangles as she does.

“Suzy.”

“Suzy,” August repeats and smiles charmingly before giving his lips a quick flick of a tongue. “Would you like to join me in my room?”

The brunette pretends to blush beneath the layers of foundation on her face and fakes an argument inside her mind as if she actually considers refusing his bold suggestion.

~*~

Back in his room, he pushes the petite brunette to her knees. He wipes away her makeup, smearing the pink paint with the crudeness of thumb. Suzy giggles, thinking she probably had men do worse than that by now.

‘Oh, darling, we haven’t even started yet.’

August’s large hand traces her rounded face, knuckles brushing against her cheek tenderly while running down to meet her lips again.

“Open up sweetheart,” he commands in a relaxed voice, his index finger demanding entrance to her velvety mouth. She spreads her lips open slowly, allowing him to slip in his long digit to explore the wet cavern while his thumb caresses her chin. Much to his delight, she sucks on his finger obediently, moaning as he slowly pumps in and out of her hot mouth.

“Good girl,” he praises, his free hand reaching to unbuckle his belt urgently and free his aching cock from his trousers. He tugs at himself for a second, staring how she suckles on his finger with fake devotion. She probably do want his cock, but it’s his money that she’d care for more later.

‘Oh, how disappointed you are going to be once I’m off this boat, baby.’

“How about I’ll fuck that pretty little throat, hmm?” August asks and without waiting for an answer, pulls his soaked finger away and clasps his hand around the hollows of her cheeks instead, forcing her to keep her mouth open.

She voices no protest, only her eyes staring at him wide and helpless. He pays no attention, preferring the sight of his cock sliding in between those puffy lips and pushing into the warm depths instead. A prolong groan slips out of his mouth, emphasising the relief of finally getting his dick wet.

Usually, he loves to watch, yet he lets his eyes roll back and shuts them tightly this time while she in the background. It only makes him fuck her throat more vigorously, his hands cradling and saddling her head, forcing her to meet the violent thrust of his hips.

“Don’t touch me,” he rasps breathlessly, as her her dirty paws snake for his waist. Terrified, she pulls away, intimidated by his voice. August’s eyes remain shut yet he can feel the wetness on her cheeks as his thumbs dig into them. Those tears are enough to send him over the edge, and he comes into her throat without any warning, grunting a couple of times and lingering inside her mouth to make sure she’ll swallow him clean.

‘That’s right little Valkyrie angel, you’ll take what I’ll give you.’

The mists of fantasy fade as August blinks his eyes open. Debunked by the plastic-type of woman. Slowly, he pulls his cock out, impressed by the mascara that’s smeared beneath Suzy’s now glassy red eyes. He wipes her lower lip clean and then gives her chin a gentle pinch with a soft grin.

Suzy gives out a weak smile in return, trying to look satisfied while remaining on her knees. He can tell that her little brain is pretty much half-through into realising she made a mistake by following the devil into his room.

Tall and menacing, he looks at her drenched by vile mischief. August moves to sit on the queen sized bed, petting the empty spot next to him. She follows, fighting her instinct to put a hand on his knee as she is used to, afraid that he will bark at her again.

“Tell me, Suzy,” he coaxes, reaching for the wallet in his pocket and drawing out a Trojan condom.

“Have you ever tried anal sex?”

****

“Ingvild,” the old man calls her name once he brings her to her new home. It’s a simple, minimalist apartment with naked walls and generic black IKEA furniture.

Silent, she peers at him, holding her small luggage between sinewy fingers. Everything that she possesses in the world is in that suitcase; a bunch of plaid skirts, white buttoned shirts, and a few books about fairies and monsters.

This man called Liam, is he to be her new father? He never even offered her a smile and hardly bothers looking into her eyes. Instead he grunts and sighs while making his way around the house and gesturing for her to follow.

At least he is kinder than Mother Superior. At least in here, no girl is going to pick any fights with her and get her into trouble.

“This is your room,” Liam gestures. The pubescent girl sneaks closer, peeking inside with curiosity. It’s not what someone would call a girl’s room by any means, very much like the rooms they had at the orphanage. It contains a single bed with a thin mattress and white metal bars and on the bed rest some casual clothes for her to wear.

At least she won’t have to wear skirts anymore.

As little Ingvild continues to scan the room, she picks on a small library housing some books and a learning desk with a computer. Probably for her to gain some knowledge of the world. She never had any of that at the orphanage, just the bible and the “forbidden” books of fairytales she stole from one of the nuns.

“Today you can rest,” Liam speaks, watching the little girl as she moves to place her luggage inside and sits on the bed.

“Tomorrow, you will start your first day of training.”

‘Training?’

Ingvild says nothing, only glares at him back quietly. It’s quite clear no woman is present in the house which makes her wonder; the orphanage doesn’t allow single parents to adopt, especially not men. Was Mother Superior this desperate to get rid of her that she decided to throw her at the first person who asked?

“Just so we’re clear, girl,” Liam grumbles, “I am not your father. You call me Liam and that’s that.”

She nods silently and watches him leave the room, shutting the door behind. Sighing, she falls back to the mattress, her silver eyes fixing at the ceiling in wonders of what sort of new life has she been sold ito.

“Ingvild...”

A low, velvety voice calls for her again, the mattress dipping, shifting with the weight of the one who joins her. As she turns her face aside, she is met with hungry eyes and a smile so cold it makes her heart shrivel.

August.

*~*

A loud thud wakes her with a sharp inhale. Though her face remain stoic, quickly readjusting to the sight of moving ground as the plane’s wheels make their landing. ‘Arrogant August Walker, invading my dreams’, she curses but pays no more thought to why he was there. Analysing dreams was never her thing. They were just memories of random things that happened to her in her childhood and August is no different as he had been on her mind for the last 72 hours.

He was a job.

One that she needed to get over with.

Liam was at her throat with this one specifically, nagging her like an old shrew. He wasn’t used for her taking her time with it, not his special girl.

Massaging her strained neck, she waits for the last person to leave the plane, observing the empty cabin and noticing how used it appears with all the crumpled, empty snack bags lying on the floor.

‘Ungrateful’, she thinks before exiting her seat and tip-toeing to get her luggage.

The arrivals terminal is infested with agents. Having been trained for years, she sees right through their casual attire, so fake they almost look like B-movie actors. It’s those badly selected outfits and their observant gazes - eyes obsessively fixed on every gate. Every airport in the world must be the same right now, desperate to catch this nightmare of a terrorist.

‘As if he would be stupid enough to travel by plane.’

With a high profile target like August on the loose, it almost feels like the world is on the brink of war.

‘Is that what he wants? To be an anarchistic god that plows chaos everywhere?’

Maybe that’s why he gave her back her life, to humiliate her, to show her how easily he can twist everyone’s life and disrupt the world people know.

‘Mephisto, Lucifer, Hades, Hel.’

“Remember that you’re only alive because I have allowed it.”

A sudden shard of pain sears through her torso, the wound reacting to the phantasm of his low timbre which plays in her mind. It makes her slow on her steps and chews on her inner cheek to suppress a moan that has been begging to escape her lips since yesterday afternoon.

“August Walker”, the name rolls on the tip of her tongue.

Her very first failure, the very first man who killed her.

It almost feels like a bond now, intimate and twisted. August went deeper than any other man ever did - he fucked her internal organs.

‘Is that is why you “performed” for him in the shower? Why you thought about him, slipping inside you with his cock rather than his knife?’

Ingvild huffs tenderly and passes in-between a couple reuniting with passion, her shoulder sharply bumping against the woman, who yells at her while she remains indifferent, never bothering to look back.

Putting on her shades, she continues to head for the exit. The wound in her gut throbs even further, all of a sudden and just when she is tempted to give into the pain and acknowledge it, the new mobile device in her jacket’s pocket begins to vibrate.

Liam, who else?

“Papa?” She answers, the big exit sign finally flickering in front of her eyes.

She can see Liam rolling his eyes without having to see his grumpy old face.

“What progress do you hope to make with this lead? Someone says they saw him in Singapore yesterday, you should be following these threads instead.”

Ingvild holds her breath, knowing very well the lead is false. August was with her a night ago, so close she tasted him, so near his fingers dug deep into her flesh, leaving an imprint on her bones and even though there is something quite demonic about him, she doubts he can be at two different places at once.

“I need access to his world, I need to pick up the clues,” she explains, yet the sad truth is that she has no idea what to look for. August is not a rookie idiot, he did a fine job leaving zero clues back at the bed&breakfast room they “shared”. Not even the receptionist who ogled her oddly when she left could tell her where he was heading.

“Just get it done, Ingvild. You’re acting like a child, this isn’t like you,” Liam mutters before hanging up.

‘He is right, this isn’t like you.’

Ingvild feels hooks clutching her guts, not just the pain August inflicted upon her, but something deeper, something desperate, leaving a void in that same spot. The fact that he slipped between her fingers seems to torments, just as much as the fact that she lied to Liam for the first time. It makes her feel like a rebellious teenager. She never keeps secrets from him and there she is, lying through every word.

Absentmindedly, her fingers press against her lips as she exits the airport.

~*~

The address led her to a small suburban house in southern London. It’s the type of house that has large glass windows where anyone standing outside can ogle freely. Rich people houses, as she likes to call it. She had a few missions in the past with people living in homes like this one - always an easy kill.

A blond woman meanders about inside the house, wearing a grey silk nightgown, preparing for bedtime probably. According to Walker’s file, she’s the most recent ex - Sydney. They broke up a couple of months before he decided to go on what he thought would be his final mission, his deathstrike.

‘If only.’

Glancing from the gravel path that leads to large metal doors, she learns the woman’s delicate manoeuvres, her mind reciting every graceful gestures as she crouches down to place food for a large Maine coon cat.

‘Is that the type of woman he likes?’

August would strikes her as a man who would fuck anything with a heartbeat but he did have more than a few relationships. She can’t help but wonder if he has a type, noticing how Sydney is more of a woman than a girl; solid income, big name lawyer, a woman who can take care of herself, a woman to start a family with.

Not that she imagines Walker starting a family anytime soon.

She is pretty too, with her mid-length straight golden hair, bright eyes and a shapely body. Ingvild looks at her own outfit: jeans, sneakers and a black sleeved shirt, nowhere as classy as beautiful Sydney.

The hour is late, still she walks toward the door and rings the bell.

“Can I help you?”

Ingvild is greeted by green eyes and a subtle Welsh accent. She gives her one of her fake smiles, trying to look as charming and pleasant as a sweet doll.

“Sydney Bedford?” She asks, while briefly scanning her body. She tries to imagine what August liked about her the most; her figure? Her angelic face? Her emerald stare?

“I have some questions about August Walker, he used to…”

Sydney shakes her head vehemently, waving her hands in the air. Something in her eyes drastically changes the moment the name “August” slaps her across the face.

“Are you MI6!? Please, I don’t want to speak about that psychotic loser anymore.”

Ingvild smiles calmly, a soft chuckle leaving her throat.

“Oh you see, he disappeared…”

“Good riddance!” Sydney replies, her eyes filling with anger, her face turning red within seconds. “Listen. I already told them everything I know.”

“Please,” Ingvild begs, batting her long lashes and tilting her head like a cute little kitten. “I’m new in this and my superior will be mad if I don’t at least speak to you. May I please come in? It’s important for my investigation.”

The same childlike charm that works on men might as well work on women, for different reasons in this occasion. Sydney is a single 36-38-year old woman who lives alone with her cat.

She must have wanted a family, perhaps with Walker, no wonder she’s furious.

Leaning against the door frame, Sydney scrutinises the young girl, believing she is younger than she really is with that pale smooth face and big innocent greyish eyes.

“Come on in, dear.” She opens the door wide, letting Ingvild step inside before closing it behind her.

The main entrance leads into a large living room, furnished with a black leather sofas and a glass coffee table. She owns a TV that is larger than Ingvild's entire living room and the walls are moulded with grey bricks, shiny from some cut stone.

Ingvild imagines how lovely it would feel to crack the shimmering stone with August’s skull.

“Would you like some tea?” Sydney offers while heading toward her luxurious kitchen.

“Please,” Ingvild answers, walking around the house and examining every corner to learn of the woman who invited her in. She nearly stumbles as the large cat rubs against her foot. “Oh,” she exclaims, lowering herself to pick the chubby feline to her arms.

She never owned a pet. Liam said it’s unnecessary.

“So like I said,” Sydney calls from the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove. “I don’t know anything about August and where he is. All I can tell you is that he was weird.”

“Weird? How?” Ingvild asks, stroking the cat behind his ears and while it purr against her chest.

Sydney places two mugs on the black marble counter in the kitchen and opens a cabinet, looking for some tea bags. “He would disappear and then return after weeks, telling me not to ask any questions. Then, he would go away and come back in crazy hours. He was a gentleman of course but arrogant and demanding, never taking no for an answer.”

Ingvild turns to look at Sydney, arching her eyebrow as if she is surprised to learn this about the man who stabbed and drowned her in an icy lake. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sydney shouts back, her chest heaving as she throws the bags into the mugs and turns toward Ingvild.

“Everything had to go his way, and I won’t be surprised if he had a mistress or another family, or god! Maybe an illegal drug practice.”

The cat jumps down from Ingvild’s embrace, and she brushes the grey hairs off her black shirt. “What makes you think this way?”

“Like I said; disappearing in the middle of the night, coming back... I knew something was off so I went and... wait I… I shouldn’t tell you this, you’re an agent!” Sydney looks around her, as if she’s afraid someone might be listening to their conversation.

Ingvild takes a step forward into the kitchen, her grey eyes seeking Sydney’s, giving her a warm, kind smile. “You can tell me anything Sydney, you are not in danger, I promise. We just want to locate Walker, he hasn't reported to HQ in a while.”

Sydney observes her gaze, trying to determine her personality. She thinks the young woman seem gentle with those unique eyes and the hair that’s tucked back to a strict ponytail.

“I had him traced,” she whispers. “I know I wasn’t supposed to because he is CIA, and trust me I was scared but I had to know.”

“How did you do that?” Ingvild asks, tilting her head with curiosity and slight disbelief. It seems odd that a man like Walker was bugged by some dumb lawyer woman.

“I did his laundry, it wasn’t hard to hide something inside the pocket of his jacket. I mean, inside the fabric, where he can’t find it.”

Ingvild can’t help but let out a small snort, amused by the fact that the infamous CIA agent got made so easily. She covers her mouth with her fist, shyly smiling into it, but it’s noticed by Sydney who stands in front of her, staring oddly.

“Where would he go?”

“Some place in South Kensington, almost every day for the last month of our relationship. He would vanish there for hours and then come back. I have the address, hold on.” Sydney leaves the kitchen and walks through a long corridor.

Not bothering with politeness, Ingvild follows her, easy off her feet like the big grey cat, carefully exploring this new territory. She imagines the fights August would have with this woman and then the passionate sex afterwards while her hand runs against the texture of the garnet.

“Oh!” Sydney exclaims, confused to see Ingvild in the doorway of her bedroom. The young woman looks around curiously, trying to find any memorabilia from August; a photo, a clothing article, man cologne. It seems like he was never even been here, though there is a certain coldness in this room that feels strangely familiar.

‘No, not August, his touch is warm.’

“He did trading or something,” Sydney says as she hands her over a small yellow note that was hidden in her purse. It has the address to August’s “secret lover”.

Ingvild takes the notes, memorizing the address before placing it in her jeans pocket. “Trading? Can you elaborate?”

She shrugs. “He asked me to not disturb him while he was doing some dealing, I don’t know what it was… it looked fishy but it might just be CIA stuff.”

Ingvild nods silently, scanning the room again and again and eventually taking in the sight of the empty bed. Her mind fills in the gaps, painting an image of August fucking Sydney into oblivion, his muscular body ramming into hers, one leg held over his shoulder while the blond little bitch screams in ecstasy.

“How was he in bed? Would you say he performed well?” Ingvild asks, her eyes gesturing toward the mattress.

Sydney frowns, giving her a slight repulsed face as she finds her question remarkably rude.

“How is this relevant to the investigation?”

She means to berate her when she witnesses Ingvild’s kind smile growing remarkably cold.

The young woman remains silent, taking a step closer and making Sydney almost stumble back as sudden fear creeps in. Grey frigid eyes, like icy shards, her nostrils slightly flares as she catches up the scent of her expensive perfume.

“How is this relevant to the MI6?!” Sydney asks again, trying to dismiss the tension yet continues to draw distance from the young agent.

“I never said I am MI6.”

Sydney’s back hits the wall with a soft thud, she attempts to flee but Ingvild’s hands lock around her shoulders, forcing her against the wall with a thud. As small as this woman is, she is way stronger than she appears.

“How was he in bed?” she repeats, her voice becoming more demanding while her glare threatening to spear into Sydney’s skull. “Would you say he satisfies you?”

Puny gasps peal from Sydney’s mouth, her green eyes becoming moist with pure fear.

“Please, don’t... He was... Rough.”

“Bondage?”

“He... he..he choked me,” she answers in a trembling voice, her lower lip quivering, much to Ingvild’s delight.

“He was too rough, he was big and he didn’t care, it was as if he enjoyed my pain...”

Ingvild licks her bottom lip, imagining Sydney thrown on the bed with August treating her like a rag doll, wrecking her completely. Bruises left everywhere, tattoos on her skin for the world to see this fine artist’s work. A cold flame licks at her spine, crawling down to the small of her back.

She’s uncertain why.

“Would you say he loved you?”

Sydney’s peers at her quietly, thinking of her answer for a few seconds while Ingvild’s fingers bury into her collarbone, voicelessly demanding a response.

“August Walker is incapable of love. He is dead inside.”

________________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or the Mission Impossible Frenchise

#august walker #Henry Cavill #August Walker Fanfiction #Henry Cavill Fanfiction #August Walker x ofc #Henry Cavill x ofc #August Walker Fanfic #augustwalker #henrycavill

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coolkat122 · 4 years ago

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Twisted Teeth: Vampire Gaara x Reader Chapter 2 Part 1

It was originally going to be just one long one-shot, but I thought it best to break it up...which might lead me to going back and editing part one then, in case it's not flowing right.

________________

I had a lot of work to do this morning and found it almost near-impossible to catch a break and when I did Naruto showed up, and I really didn't want to leave, but I had to.

So as much as I didn't want to, I cut our fun conversation short and went out hunting for Gaara's food, I went the extra mile and caught three rabbits for him in case he was really hungry.

"Hey, it's me, I brought you some foo-" I paused in my sentence having seen that, my troubles were for naught, made clear by the two bunny bodies that were discarded in a corner.

Gaara who was looking better though still frail lifted the covers off of his body by a little to peek his head out, he looked at me and towards the three rabbits in my hand and made a gesture for me to bring them over.

"You're still hungry?" Gaara nodded.

"They're too small to supply me with the amount that I need" I bit my lip as I handed the rabbits over, quietly debating if I should ask the question that was on my mind.

Feeling like the answer was yes, I asked, "Just how much exactly do you need?" Gaara who had just bit into the rabbit, draining it of its blood, replied as I looked away.

"What I caught and what you brought me will be enough for the day" That doesn't exactly answer my question, but I left it at that.

"Alright, good" I sat down by the table, Gaara after finishing off the last bunny, sat up even more in his bed, watching me from his side of the room.

"Thank you for the meal" I cut my eyes toward him and gave a slight nod before averting them.

"....is something the matter?" Gaara asked, but before I could reply no, he answered his own question.

"Does the blood bother you?" I gave a tiny strain smile with an awkward laugh.

"Yes, a little."

"Then I will go wash up and refrain from doing this around you in the future" Gaara rose up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom.

I found it nice that he cared enough to wash himself up and was even going to not eat in front of me, I'm not sure if Gaara was just naturally this considerate or if maybe my kindness is rubbing off on him in such short time!

Either way, I'm grateful and really appreciate it, when Gaara got back he was relatively clean, you know besides his clothes which were still very dirty from his fight with the hunters and the dirt.

I think now is the time to perhaps bring him a change in clothing? Maybe Jiriaya left some behind?... I suppose I should check, I stood up from the table and went looking through his old dressers.

As I was hoping I did find some clothing, but uh they weren't going to fit and were pretty dirty them-self... covered in webbing and so much dust, so the purpose even if they did fit it would have been pointless in the end anyway...

Er, well, I guess, I could wash these and he could wear them regardless of their size? I shrugged pulling out a pair I thought he would look good in and proceeded to go clean them.

Gaara surprisingly followed me outside where the sun was still pretty much out and about, "I thought vampires perished in the sun?" kinda went out of my way to ensure that there wouldn't be a chance of him getting even a tiny bit of it on him... feels pretty pointless now.

"...I'm only half" I titled my head to the left a slightly confused, I was unaware of half-breeds among vampires and really didn't even know that they could breed.

I thought being undead kinda put a stop to certain "things" if you catch my drift... shows just how much I know about vampires...

"I.. I didn't know that was a thing" I regrettably voice my thoughts, that now that I was hearing them out loud sounded a bit insensitive or maybe I'm just overthinking it?

"It is rare, not many are capable of it, unfortunate for some or so I've heard, wheres a blessing for others" Gaara sounded a bit off when talking of this, but I didn't want to push, though I think I can guess on where he stood on it.

At least judging from his tone when mentioning certain parts of the topic, "I see... not too different from humans then so that's interesting" I offered my best smile and bright side take on the subject as I washed the clothing.

"... I guess that's true..." Gaara fell silent after that, which I guess is normal for him since he seems to be the quiet type, much like my friend Shino... though in Shino's case, I'm sure he would love to talk more if someone would let him...

"I'm glad you think so... I find it kind of nice that we have similarities in our species, I never really give it any thought till now... but I'm am pretty curious to just how much more we have in common?" I took a slight pause in washing the clothes so that I may gaze upon Gaara as I begin to ask him my question.

"Aren't you?"

"I am...now" A smile broke out on my face, happy to hear he felt the same as I returned back to cleaning, it didn't take me long to get them as good as new, so I smiled happily and begun hanging them up to dry.

"Shouldn't be too long till they are dry, but if they aren't by the time I have to go home, you can always just get them yourself" I turned to face Gaara who was still watching me from four feet away.

"Is it really okay for me to wear those?" I placed my hand on my hip as I shot him a smile.

"Why wouldn't it be? Jiraiya has long since abandoned them and I don't see Naruto wearing them any time soon so what's the harm in you putting them to good use?" I raised a brow, expecting a response, but he remained silent so I took it as him accepting my points.

So with a happy little nod, I lead him back into the cabin with a cheerful hum, I went straight for the table and pointed toward the other chair for Gaara to sit on, like I wanted he followed my little wish and sat across from me.

I placed my elbows onto the table leaning forward as I rest my chin onto my palms, gazing at my red-haired friend while probably looking pretty goofy from how I'm smiling.

"You know... when I saved you, I never imagined I would become such fast friends with you... it's really such a crazy thing that I'm finding it hard to believe even now" Gaara's face showed shock as he leaned back a bit in his seat with eyes wide.

"Friends? You think of me as a friend?" This time I was taken back and was starting to feel silly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I out of line? It just kinda felt like maybe we were so I-" Gaara's eyes were locked onto me as I fumbled around on finding what to say.

"I... I don't think you were... I just wasn't aware you felt so fondly toward me?... and besides" Gaara paused glancing down toward his lap for a moment before staring at the wall dejectedly.

"I've never had a friend before... is this perhaps what it feels like to...have one?" Gaara broke away from the wall to look at me with curious, sad green orbs, I felt pretty sad for him when I heard that, though if I'm being honest I suspect that he was a rather lonely fellow from our previous talks.

Smiling sweetly at my new friend, I assured him, "Yes Gaara, this is what having a friend feels like" a tiny smile made way onto his lips and it was precious.

"I see..." He said in a low, tender voice, it was so sweet and gentle, with a hint of a faint blush upon* his cheeks, I couldn't help but break out into a wide grin.

'Gaara, I promise you I'll be the best first friend you've ever had and when I'm sure that you're ready, I'll help you make even more~' I mentally vowed to Gaara to help brighten his world and fill it with some much-needed love.

~~~~

Before I had known it Gaara had made a full recovery and weeks had flown by since I found Gaara that one fateful night, I thought by the time he would get better he'd pretty much leave and just pay me visit from time to time, but.

That wasn't the case, he asked for my permission to stay in Jiriaya's cabin a little longer so we could continue to spend more time together, I told him yes, obviously, we were friends now and I wanted to get to know him better, which.

I did and like I had hoped from spending as much time as I could with him when I could sneak out or had some excuse to leave the village for a bit, I would go to the cabin and meet with Gaara as he slowly opened up to me more and more with each visit.

Gaara would share and tell me something new and fascinating about vampires, and of himself, this would contain some times sweet and fun information, but it would also yield sad and painful to hear knowledge about him, those times were bittersweet little moments, between us, that I still hold dear nonetheless.

Though as I'm sure you could guess, sneaking out to visiting him wasn't exactly easy, I couldn't be seen going out as often as I was, I didn't exactly have an excuse for it all of the time, it's not like I was a hunter despite knowing a few tricks from my grandfather who was one.

My friends and family would get suspicious as to where was I going and why was I suddenly interested in going outside of the village so out of the blue, if I were caught doing it as much as I was.

It's not as if I could tell them of Gaara, neither party was ready for that step yet, Gaara still needed more time to adjust to human companionship among other things and I somehow have to figure out to ease them into the idea of a friendly vampire.

I'm sure Naruto would be more than ready to welcome such a thing, but the others... hmm well, some convincing was in order... Especially Sasuke.

That boy is from a well know vampire hunting clan after all... wait a second... who exactly were the hunters that were attacking Gaara and just why was he being attacked?

Where I found him wasn't all that far and if I recall Sakura mentioned that Sasuke and a few members were out on a mission from a nearby town to take care of some vampires...

I bit my lip from concern that maybe that vampire could have been Gaara and his attackers could have been the Uchihas... oh lord, please no.

Taking a brief break during my walk toward my sneak-out spot, I stopped to think of what I should do if what I feared were true, how would I go about it then?

It would make everything so much harder which was something that was already going to be quite a challenge given how feared and hated vampires are, and I already knew that Sasuke was going to be the hardest to get on board with this.

'Darn it all!' I frowned as I chewed on my thumbnail out of frustration.

To be continued ➡️

#vampire gaara #naruto #au #reader insert #fanfiction #suna no gaara #gaara of the sand #vampires au #alternate universe #chapter 2 #part 1

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

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Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone x Fem!PleasantValleyResident!Reader

Title: Throuple

Notes:

Granny Boone is bisexual and you can’t change my mind.

This is way too long I’m sorry. My excuse? Its self indulgent that's why and I wrote it over the course of 2 days, both at night time so...

Pick whichever Buckman you like best.

Plot:

Boone and Buckman just care a lot about you! A looooooot, a lot. Like, so much. A colossal amount, really- but you’ve never heard of a ‘throuple’ before.

Warnings: Uhh, polyamory? Sexual harassment, hint towards rape (Not of you or any known characters but still), 2001 Maniacs craziness? Reader might also have a mental illness, I don't know. Its not explicitly stated and I’m just the writer so how would I know? But she is really tired. Laziness in the last written sentence. I haven't edited the last half, so it might be illegible... In the morning I probably will edit.

~~~

SET: Before the massacre, so everyone is alive except the 2001 Maniacs victims who have yet to be born because this is 1860

“Hey Y/N!” One of the men from table three - was it William or was it Lawrence? I don’t know, whoever-it-is’ voice is too slurred at this point for me to figure. Turning away from the table I was wiping off, I tuck the washcloth into the waistband of my apron and raise an eyebrow vaguely towards the table. “Come over here a moment, wouldja?”

“Why?” Now, usually, I would go over; No question. But its nearly closing time now, and its dark, and men like to get rowdy at this time, and I’ve been burned by that shtick before. Resting my working hands, course and strong, on my hips, I raise my eyebrows.

Put on a cold front and they’ll lose interest. Uh, usually.

“Just wanna get a betta look atcha! Larry here says you got a flat ass, but I got 3 coins on yer plump bottom. Y’ wouldn’t want me losin’ coin, would you?? Come on, now, just stand over here and lemme ‘ave a look-see. Wont even touch!” William, as I can now see, shows off his grotty yellow teeth in a wide grin.

He honestly think’s that crap will fly? He really, truly believes I’ll just submissively walk over to them and bend the fuck over?

What the hell do they take me for? I’m a waitress, not a prostitute.

Instead of snapping at them though I merely sigh, and clap my hands in a finished manner. “Come on boys, time to go home. It’s closing time and my snuggly warm bed’s calling out t’ me. Aren’t yours’? Come on, then!”

Groans and protests are my response, but the long drunk and tired men - they’re here after a long day of work in some mines, - get up and head for the exit to my building despite their complaints. I know neither of them are staying in any of the hotel rooms above, so that’s where they’ll go and that’s where I herd them. Out the saloon doors and down the street. I shoo them all the way, curbing their complaints with ‘Think about lovely dreams’, and ‘You can come back tomorrow for breakfast!’. Once we’ve gotten to the door, I wave them off, dish cloth in hand. “Goodnight boys, see you in the morn- Ah!” A high-pitched shriek comes out of me and is released into the cold night-time air in a puff of visible gas in the lamp light as I whip around. Someone pinched my-

“Theodore.” I gasp, eyebrows furrowed as I use my fists to cover my ass as I look up defensively at the tall, roguish looking man. I thought he left hours ago!

How dare he-

“Definitely plump / flat, boys!” He calls out to the two that are heading down the street, receiving raised hands in goodbye and laughs in response. Probably disgusting comments, too, but the mix of how far away their retreating backs are becoming, and the alcohol in their systems making their words blur together like flour and eggs mean that I thankfully don’t hear them with any sort of clarity. Theodore looks back down at me and smirks. “You said something about a warm snuggly bed, Miss?”

“Yes. Yours is a couple blocks from here. Be free to go forth, right now.” I roll my eyes, slipping around him so he’s closer to the door. He twists around and runs a hand through his greasy hair that’s far too long, and would be fair if he ever let water touch it. Good lord man, go see Al the barber and maybe you’ll learn some manners along the way.

“Aw, are you mad at me now Y/N?”

“Just cross.”

“I know a fun way we could work through those passionate feelin’s together, darlin’- “

Another voice joins the fray, just as I’m worrying if Theodore will ever actually leave, or more seriously- If he will ever actually pull through with the comments like that that he always makes towards me. “Oh, what’s that?”

Theodore and I look out to the street immediately to see who’s interrupted him. Who, with such a high and feminine voice, has had the audacity. Who, has become simultaneously his annoyance, and my saving grace.

My eyes land on Boone, and a grin makes its way over my lips. She looks cross herself, hands on her hips, shoulders anchored towards Theodore in a way a mother might look at her son when she is…

Totally pissed off.

I waive my dish cloth at her from behind Theodore. “Good evening, Boone!”

She doesn’t so much as say anything back, just glances at me and then back at the problem- Theodore. Oh man, if I were him I’d be backing off now. Boone scares everyone, me included. Not that I have to worry, she’s made it clear that she cares about me.

… A little too much, but still. That’s neither here nor there right now. I’m glad she’s here!

“I think I heard some unsanitary comments comin’ from you, Mr Miller. At least I hope they were just comments. Why don’t you go on and apologise to our deserving waitress Miss L/N, before I let the Mayor know what you’re up to here. I believe he warned your ass last time we caught you cornering her.” Boone’s eyes darken on him and I wonder if I could slip off to the side and clean off the last table; the one William and Lawrence were at previously, so I can retire sooner. She’s got this all under control, if I know her.

But then Theodore just rolls his shoulders back, and the air around him seems to still. “You know, Miss Boone, I never see either you or our esteemed mayor every kickin’ up such a damn fuss over anyone else in this town. I mean, shit. I had some devilish fun with Miss Lyla the other day and you didn’t do nothin’!” A smirk slowly rolls over his mouth as he looks back at me for a moment, caging me in those dark, weaselly eyes for a moment. Oh, crap.

Boone, though, doesn’t even bat an eye.

But before she can say another word, yet another familiar voice calls from the shadows. I look down the path the way Boone was headed down before she heard Theodore and I and stopped by, to see Buckman walking down towards her. What are these two doing taking walks at 11 at night for, anyway? Why aren’t they together?? Seems a bit choreographed, to me. Let me just add that to all the reasons they creep me out.

Now, our Mayor is shorter than Theodore, who is much like a weasel in that he’s skinny, smelly and long, but that doesn’t make him an any less intimidating presence against him. Even with cheer in his eyes and his hands carefully in his pockets, its always been clear from the get-go, that he’s a force to be reckoned with. Its something about the way he holds all of his emotions inside, I’ve always thought. Mixed with the knowledge that he’s fought in a war.

It’s why we voted for him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Mayor.” Theodore swallows down a gulp of spit, stepping forward out of my saloon, finally. “Sir!” I take a deep breath and let it out, relieved, going straight to the doors and wedging myself between them; blocking him from coming back in and ready to shut the doors again as soon as I can. I don’t want Theodore coming back in, but I also don’t want to be left alone with either of these two nutters’, either.

Oh, by ‘nutters’, I mean ‘pillars of the community’… Mostly, I mean that. Uh, half.

Okay fine, they’re nuts.

“Mayor,” I greet, inclining my head for a moment politely.

“Evenin’ Y/N! I hope you’re not having too much trouble with this one.” Buckman immediately flashes me a bright, election winning smile. A real one. Like he always does when he see’s me.

“Well, he was. But I think Boones got it covered.” I grin back, unable to help it. He’s very charismatic!

Boone’s expression softens a bit and she relaxes her stance, giving me a little smile. “Thank you dear.”

“I’m sure she does.” Buckman agrees, and then they share a smile between them, and I look down at Theodore on the bottom step that leads to my saloon. Oh Jesus Christ, if he had suspicions before, then they are just growing now. This is just what I need!

I haven’t done anything, Theodore!! I promise!

Which is not to say I haven’t received countless offers, but I don’t need to be even thinking about that. Seeing as I declined.

“Now, why don’t you head on home Theodore.” Buckman drops his nose to look up at Theodore with a little bit more menace and severity. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Good night sir! Boone, Y/N.” Finally, Theodore looks back over his shoulder at me, and then makes a break for it down the road past Boone. She gives him a stink eye for as long as she can before losing interest.

And then its just me, Boone and Buckman in the stillness of the night.

And I wish I’d run off like Theodore.

“Well! Good night ya’ll! I got an early day tomorrow, so- “ I try to escape by weaving an excuse and locking the doors behind me, but it it’s not 2 minutes later when the only other set of key’s for this building stick into the lock, turn, and they walk on into my saloon. I sigh, now behind the counter washing cups.

Of course. He’s the mayor. Of course, they have keys.

Looking up at the ceiling, I pray for an easy time of it tonight. Please, let them be tired from their daily duties and they’ll go home soon.

I continue to wash glasses and plates and put them away, but I don’t get too far before Boone’s gone right ahead and helped herself to my special ‘only me’ area -behind the counter of my saloon,- and turns me around by the shoulders to look at me. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

I sigh, and tell her. “No. I’m fine. You shouldn’t worry for me.” She really shouldn’t, not in the way she does. She has a husband.

The part where he didn’t touch me is obviously incorrect, but I better not mention that to these two.

“Even so, we do worry darlin’. Come on, sit down for a bit. Give us some peace of mind, at least.” Buckman, immediately on the other side of the counter, asks and I sigh. I’ve learnt, that if I don’t comply, then they’ll never leave. And besides, the things they ask of me are never bad. Just, sit down and talk with them. Play cards. Have a drink. Generally, just lovely things like that.

It’s the intent behind them that concerns me.

“Yes. I’ll go and get you some water.” Boone says with a No-‘If’s’-or-‘Buts’-about-it kind of tone, and I try to open my mouth and protest against that, but she’s already guiding me around the bench. When we reach the end, she deposits me with her mayoral husband, and he leads me the rest of the way to a table. I sit down, sighing simultaneously and he sits down next to me. “I’ll wash the glass; Don’t you worry about that!”

“That’s… “I blow air into one of my cheeks and blow out gradually. “… Not what I’m worried about… “

“Now, he didn’t do anything nasty, did he? He certainly had the intention.”

I shake my head and set my hands in my lap. I want to tell them what he did, I really do. I don’t know why, but I always want to tell them things.

But I retain the believe that I can’t. I shouldn’t be that close with either of them. “No, sir, I’m fine, really! That’s not even as bad as some other men get at this time of night, anyway. I could have handled- “A moment after I’ve admitted the fact that other men have been worse than what Theodore just suggested to me, I pause. And peer guiltily up at Boone instead of Buckman as she hands me the water she promised and then sits down on the other side of me. “… I haven’t helped my case, have I?”

“No.” She laughs.

Maybe I do need this water.

I take a sip and look at neither of them, instead settling my focus on this glass of water and the far wall. I really need to repaint that wall…

While I do this, and they talk to each other about their day, I ponder my situation.

Now, I… I don’t consider myself a judgemental person. I don’t care what any folks do behind closed doors, in their bedrooms. Man and woman, woman and woman, man and man. But I am damn sure that it is only supposed to include 2 people. I’ve never heard of couples that are more then that, unless you count cults and I don’t.

So, it’s not that I don’t care for them both. Not at all. Its that I can’t be with them both, like they’ve asked, like they want. I can’t.

I’d like to be that open minded, I would, but… I just can’t picture it.

___TIME SKIP: Modern Day___

Since they arrived, I’ve been peering a little too long to be polite at a few of the newest group of victims. I’m a little worried that they’ve noticed, but I’m also really curious. I just can’t tell who is a couple and who isn’t. There is a particular group of 3, that’s throwing me off. I definitely saw the blonde one kiss the ginger one, but then I also swear saw the ginger one and the brunette ones holding hands. Could that just be a friendly thing? It had a pretty intimate feel, to me.

Now, I stand on the porch of my saloon, leaning my forearms onto the railing as I watch them. Buckman’s still with them, along with half- no, the rest of the town, remaining town I should say, inviting to the annual ‘guts and glory jubilee’. At this point, I really don’t get why any of these kids stay. Maybe it’s just because I know what going to happen to them.

Or maybe, its because this generation of kids are morons.

‘Guts and Glory Jubilee’? I mean, really? At first it was clever, but it was only a temporary name for the trap. And now its been a hundred years and its still called the same thing, and my saloon’s always full with disrespectful modern teenagers and my friends acting like loons to keep them there, and the kids aren’t getting any brighter. Too blinded by the way us Pleasant Valley women dress, and the inviting way we all -men and women alike, - smile, and laugh. They’re none the wiser to our plot.

Like I said, Morons.

As I’m watching the usual show on Buckman explaining with bright theatrics what a fun time it’ll be and how they should stay, as our honoured guests, I catch the eye of one of those guests. The blonde one from before, that kissed the ginger one. They smile through the awkward, accidental eye contact, and I paste on a smile back- too old and too tired to care about the awkwardness. I keep the contact until the moment they look away, honestly too tired to look away first.

I just want to go.

Where everyone else did. My parents, my fiancé, my… god, even my fucking cat… Where they went. Before we were massacred. Heaven, or hell, or wherever the hell we go after real, no consciousness death. Where we can’t, until 2001 of these dumbass teenagers die.

I just have to hold on a little longer.

A little while later, they agreed to stay and I went off into my saloon, ready to great them and serve them drinks. And clean tables, and fight off bastards trying to get a drunken feel, and snap back at rude ass, degrading miscreants who think I’ll just stand by and let them call me names.

Which is what I’m busy with now, as I dry off a now clean glass, ready to be filled with my sub-par rum again. A loud, brutish call of ‘Hey, any fucking rum left? Waitress!’ interrupts my quieter, calmer thoughts of fantasising about seeing my family again right after the saloon doors absolutely slam open. I whip around and am ready to have Jonathon, the only man in this saloon that I even remotely enjoy the company of and my only employee, kick the bastard out when my voice escapes me. Instead, I roll my eyes in utter frustrated and groan. This is just what I need.

“Theodore, what have I told you about calling me waitress?! You know my name.” I exclaim through grit teeth, throwing my now damp dishcloth onto the bench with vigour, causing a couple boys at the bar to reel back with a few irritating, obnoxious ‘Oooh’s. Theodore slowly smirks in that easy way that he does, and drops down in the bench across from where I’m standing. “Yes, we have the revolting drink you love. You know, we have rum. You basically live here!” I throw him a greasy with my eyes. “Which reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask you; Do you have a home?? Because I’d be happy to send you off with a weeks’ worth of rum if it means I’ll get some peace and quiet from you for that time!”

“Naw, baby, I come here for your company. If you came home with me for a week, that’d be a different story. I’d stay away easy! Just stay… in bed… with you.” He winks.

Dropping the ferocity in my body language for a moment, I just deadpan at him. “You disgust me.”

“In the best way.” Theodore grins, then leans into the bar, evidently done with teasing me for now, if his serious expression tells me anything. “Anyway,” He starts, sounding exhausted now as his hair droops around his face and the smile officially leaves his eyes. “Drink?”

Because it’s my job, and because standing near a quiet Theodore is a welcome alternative then trying to make conversation with the teenage boys down the left side of the bar who ‘Ooh’ed me earlier, I pat the bar and grumpily head off for the rum and a glass. “Coming right up.”

While I do that, Boone and Buckman; The nutters, the pillars of the community, the mayoral couple and the banes of my existence, come into the saloon and take the table by the door. I ignore them though, pulling my own stool out from under my side of the bench and sitting down across from Theodore, pouring him his drink and sliding it to him. Jonathon can handle the rush for a few tiny minutes, while I sit for a second. “Thank you, darlin’.”

I don’t say anything back, because I don’t like to extend pleasantries to him of all people. Instead, I look around the room and do my usual assessment. The room’s loud, and full of people -Boone and Buckman took the last unoccupied table, and Theodore took the last stool, -, acting loud and having butt loads of fake fun. I don’t really care about that though; all I care about is that in a moment I’m going to have to get up and ask around for any more orders and clean some more cups and plates. For a second, I let my shoulders relax and I rest my hands on the bar in front of me. Strong, work woman’s hands.

“You noticed the ‘throuple’ in the new group?”

Oh, Theodore is still talking to me.

Joy.

“Huh?” I look up from my hands to meet his eyes momentarily, raising my eyebrows at him. What did he say?

“The throuple, that’s what they called it when I asked ‘em.” He smirks for a moment. “It’s a relationship between 3 people.”

“Why do I care? That sounds like their business.” I sniff, then wipe under my nose a moment and then move to fixing my apron over my chest. It had slid to the side while I was working, it seems.

For a glorious moment, he doesn’t respond. He just stays quiet, and I think how lovely his company is when he’s on the other side of the bar and is quiet.

Then I look up at him, still with my eyebrows up my forehead, and see he’s looking straight into my soul. A knowing, mischievous grin on his lips. Its as if he ironed it in that way, all creases and wrinkles on his face from smiling so much in his life.

But I know what he’s insinuating.

It’s a different world out there now, that’s apparently allowed. It happens. Romantic relationships between more then 2 people. Maybe I should reconsider my answer, to Boone and Buckman. Maybe it would work.

That’s what Theodore is saying with this look that is so annoyingly painted on his face.

And to that, I say fuck off.

Or I would, if I wasn’t a good, Christian lady.

Instead I shrug my shoulders at him and head off to check the tables. “It’s a whole new world out there!” I call back, successfully, hopefully, ending the conversation.

Where does he even get off making suggestions like that to me- he shouldn’t even be that sure of what was happening -what they were, or are still, trying to make happen, - to mention it to me in such a forward manner. I definitely didn’t tell anyone except my mirror, and my… bathroom sometimes… but I certainly didn’t say it above a whisper! He couldn’t have heard, even if he was snooping around like the creep he is.

And the other two definitely wouldn’t have said anything. They despise Theodore Miller even more then I do.

He must just be smart.

… huh.

Who knew? Theodore has a brain and not just a penis under that grease, sweat and soot covered flesh.

Like a coward, I hit every other table in the room before I get the one by the door. They obviously can tell that I’m trying to avoid them, because saloon procedure is obvious to get to the table that was most recently filled as soon as possible before any others, but I don’t really care. If Theodore and I noticed the, uh, ‘throuple’, then the mayor and his wife, definitely, did. And I’m dreading the conversation that is about to occur.

When I do, finally, start heading towards Boone and Buckman’s table, I notice Theodore turning around in his seat to drink and watch the scene.

With his knees spread wide like a heathen. Ugh! Not in my establishment. Before I get to the table, I show him my middle finger and he turns around, chuckling to himself.

Okay. I take a deep breath, and stop at the dreaded table.

“Good afternoon, Mr Mayor. Mrs Mayor.” I beam, a pasted smile that’s obviously fake. Luckily, because I don’t think I could handle any more embarrassment and pressure right now, and unluckily because I think anyone else’s attention might actually be preferred then these two’s right at any time, no one else is paying attention to see such a grin. “What’ll it be? Today we have beans and bread as the special- like always. “I take out my notepad and pen.

Not because I need them to remember orders, of course. Just to have something to focus on.

“Good afternoon Y/N, why don’t you sit here with us for a bit? You look bone tired from takin’ care of this lot! It’s a full house today.” Boone asks, even going as far as using her foot to push out the other chair at the table that isn’t taken, for me to prospectively take.

Absolutely not.

“I am exhausted.” I find myself sitting down, instead of leaving like I should have. Immediately on feeling the tension leave my legs, I feel like collapsing onto this table and falling asleep. “Thank you.”

Leaning into my hands for a moment with my eyes closed will have to do. A feel a comforting hand pat my shoulder and it does feel better. “Why don’t you let Jonathon handle business for a little bit- we actually happened to have a talk the other day about him wanting more opportunities to advance. This would be a perfect opportunity for him! And you look warn, sweetheart.”

He shouldn’t call me that.

But it does sound good. Especially coming from Buckman. And with Boone looking so worried about me, too. It feels too nice a place to be, with them, to be wrong. “Uh, well, maybe… “

Then I look up, past Boone’s head and, by complete chance, on the blonde, brunette and ginger that have been the topic of the day…

And all of a sudden, momentary blind panic tears through me.

I jump up from my seat, the chair toppling down onto its back as I stand back on to my exhausted legs. it barely interrupts the volume of the room, so no one else really notices. But I do catch sight of Boone and Buckman’s faces, even more worried and a little bit hurt, before I stutter through an apology and an excuse about having to work, and I rush off back to the safety of my bar. Of course, Boone has been back here before, but I choose to ignore that little fact.

Theodore watches me with wide eyes, as all the tension in my person just grew to level a thousand intensity, as I call Jonathon over and ask him to take his lunch break now.

I don’t need any excuses to go and take my break. One of them, or both of them, might come and ask me if I’m okay. And I’m starting to forget why that’s such a bad thing, but I know there is a reason, and… Jesus Christ, I’ve never been so conflicted.

Because yes, the world outside of Pleasant Valley has come far. Like I said to Theodore, it’s a ‘whole new world’ compared to what it was when we were alive a century and a half ago.

But we’re in Pleasant Valley. And you only have to look around and see how different we dress and talk and move compared to these new present time people and you know; We aren’t part of that whole new world. Boone, Buckman and I don’t fit here.

Maybe if things were different.

Definitely if things were different, actually. I know, if they were, I would be there. I would be all in.

But I’m not and things aren’t different.

___

An hour later, and I’ve calmed down at this point. I still feel exhausted, now because I work so much and because of emotional baggage, but I don’t feel the racing heartbeat that made me sick before or the adrenaline that caused me to run away. So, it’s better… Stable again, at least.

I’ve convinced myself that if I don’t look their way. I can become numb again to the feelings they make in me. Its an idiotic notion, but its kind of the only thing keeping me still right now.

Merciless God, grant me a break. Amen.

The saloon is starting to quieten down for the night, as the light goes away outside and visitors disappear to their rooms -some with a partner they’ve only just met, some alone, some with friends they came with. It’s a big group this time, - upstairs in the hotel part of my building. I’m sitting back down in my stool behind the bench by the time the ‘throuple’-I’m still not sure about that word, - finally, FINALLY, decides to retire up to their room. I bid Jonathon a good night as he went home too, a little earlier to his wife and son, and waived shortly when Theodore pushed drunkenly off the bar and hobbled out the doors.

I lean heavily onto the bar myself, and watch the three go up the stairs together. The brunette’s holding the ginger’s hand now, and the blonde walks ahead of them and holds the key to their room.

After they disappear onto the second floor, I turn to look at who else I need to wait to leave, so I can go to bed myself. Mmm, I’ll take a long hot bath first, and light some candles to go with it. Most importantly, I’ll let my hair out of his too bloody tight ponytail!

“Ah, that’s sounds good.” I mutter, already imagining it as I push off the bench and go collect some plates and glasses that are left out on the tables and wipe them down for the last time today.

“Miss Y/N?” A familiar voice, Boone, calls the softest that I’ve ever heard it from the door. I look around quickly, ribbing the back of my aching neck to see no one else around. Huh, I hadn’t noticed I was alone.

It was nice.

Still, I flash her a tired, half smile. “I’m sorry for earlier.”

“I know. I’m sorry too. We should know at this point not to go so hard on you. You work all day harder than anyone, even Buckman but don’t tell him I said that.” She pauses, walking fully into my saloon and as if it were choreographed, we both sit down together at a table. “Actually, go ahead and tell him. Its true.” I grin despite myself, rolling my shoulders back and then leaning back in the chair- entirely taken over by exhaustion. I don’t even have energy to put up walls. Boone looks at me again and gives me a soft smile. “We want you to know always, that we care deeply for you, and whenever you’re ready you can join us. But… we also don’t want to stress you so much anymore. So, we’ll pull back- a little. If that pussy Miller tries anything on you again he will be dealt with.”

I nod, sighing. But, then again, why doesn’t that make me feel better? They’re going to leave me a bit more alone! I should feel relieved… but I do not. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I hate to see you so pent up.” A devious smirk touches her lips and her eyes. “I mean, I would like to help you with that in a different way then leaving you alone… But I will. Because I love you.”

I take a quick, deep breath. There it is. I never actually thought those actual three words would leave her lips aimed at me. But it’s the most natural thing in the world, tell her. “I love you too.” A wicked beam is my response from her at that.

“Can I hold yer hand?” Boone asks, offering her daintier hand across the table. Trying hard not to glance around for onlookers but failing, I take her hand.

It feels so nice, relieving, to hold it finally.

I take a deep breath, and whisper the next words. I want them out, I want to confide in someone. I’m sick of keeping everything to myself, I’m sick of being all alone. It’s by my own will, of course, but… it still hurts, all the same. “Boone, I-I’m just so… so weary, of everythi- “

Buckman interrupts me, turning up at the door. “Howdy, what’s going on in here?”

Boone ignore him, gathers up her skirts and gets to her feet. When she rounds the table to me, she drops them to the ground in favour of cupping my face in her hands instead. “I know. Why don’t you let go of one thing? Let us hold some of the load, sugar. Please.”

Finally, I can’t tell myself no. And I absolutely can’t tell her no. I glance from her to Buckman who has apparently read the atmosphere and now stands beside Boone. He smiles, like he always does at me. Like he feels it.

God, I want to feel a smile again.

And I lose the strength to do this all on my own anymore. I shakily get up from my seat and throw my arms around (You choose one or both, because I’m lazy and its bedtime for me).

#Horror Villains Oneshot #Granny Boone x Reader #Mayor Buckman x Reader #Granny Boone x Mayor Buckman #Oneshot #Fem Reader

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hyunnows · 5 years ago

Text

Carnations, Arbutus and Chrysanthemums 4.1 — MYG

Edit Credit: btsaesthete_

↳ CONTENT/WARNINGS: angst, near death Yoongi, fluff, unrequited love

↳ WORD COUNT: 1k+

↳ SUMMARY: It’s hard to love someone when they have the power to kill you, it’s harder to have the power to kill someone who loves you. Your typical Hanahaki!AU, except it really isn’t.

↳ A/N: This is the “Canon” ending, which is why the Chrysanthemums work in the title, but I'm still going to make at least Hobi's ending, just because. It's short, because it's the end and I didn't want to drag it out, but also because I don't think people really like long text post… Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part, and have a great day/night! Borahae ARMY! Stay safe 💜!

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──────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

“I love you,” he pauses, leaning towards your face, “I'll prove it.” And he's kissing you. He’s holding your cheeks tightly in his hands, keeping your face to his, and he feels worse when you don’t reciprocate the actions.

You don't want to, you really, really don't want to kiss him, but you also really, really do. It felt real, you felt emotions behind his actions, but it wasn't right. Just as you're pulling away, pushing the boy’s shoulders back, your phone rings. Lifting it up to your ear, you wipe your lips clean of Hoseok, deteriorating his ego. “Hey, Taehyung, whats--”

“Yoongi-hyung passed out, h-he's going to die.”

“He-he what? I-you're on your way here, r-right?” You stuttered, shocked at the words leaving Tae's mouth, “I’ll call the ambulance, tell them our address--you're down the street? Okay, j-just--just hurry and get here.” You hadn't realized at the moment, but as soon as those eight words left Taehyung's mouth, every petal dissipated.

Dialing up your local emergency room, you explain the situation as fast and clearly as possible. You single-handedly change from your sleepwear to a t-shirt Yoongi had given you and slipping on some sneakers, you grab your keys, wallet, anything you might need to take with you when the ambulance gets there.

You hear Taehyung's car screech against the concrete as he quickly turns into the parking lot, and you're already more than halfway down the stairs, rushing to his car. Yoongi's covered arbutus flowers, stems, splattered blood here and there. His eyes are closed, eyes red and puffy, contrasting his pale color, tears staining his skin.

“Yoongi--Yoongi, wake up, c’mon-” You sobbed, holding his head on your lap as you slid into the car. “Please--”

“Why do you like Hoseok so much?” The slim male had pondered allowed, the question up in the air whether or not you wanted to answer it.

Hesitating, you want to say, ‘He makes me laugh,’ But you'd laughed the most with Yoongi. He could do--or say--the stupidest joke, one without any type of actual comedy in it, and you'd be rolling on the floor in laughs and smile.

Then, your mind jumps to your next answer, ‘He's just so kind,’ But, so was Yoongi. He may try to hide his soft side, but he was always there when someone was feeling down, ready to lend a hand or anything.

And, you wrack your brain for this one-- ‘He cares about me.’ Yoongi cared about you. He cared about you so much, he'd gone and fallen in love with you and didn't stop loving you after it started to kill him--literally.

Noticing your discomfort, he shrugs, leaning back on the couch, “It's okay, you don’t have to answer,” he gives you a reassuring smile, combing his long fingers through your locks, “I was just curious.”

“Ma'am, we need to get him into the ambulance. You can ride with him, but we need you to let go--”

“Yoongi, c’mon--” You sobbed, wiping the dried tears from his cheeks, “You're--you're not allowed to d-die.”

It'd been a particularly hard day. Hoseok had gone out on a date with a girl he’d met during your time at the hospital, leaving you to feel all the pain. You had a trash bag, water, and painkillers, making a sort of stash as you bared up the flowers, laying completely drained on your bed.

Your floor was covered in the bright petals, the occasional bud, or fully bloomed flower along with them. It was so painful, yet, you were enduring it. Without you noticing, Yoongi had snuck into your room, gloves on his hands as he carefully collected each bloodied petal and threw them away, cleaning your mess. Finishing up with your floor, he removed the latex protection and sat beside your back, soothing rubbing it.

“Y-yoongi?” You croaked, turning your weak body to see him.

“Hey [Y/N], how are you feeling?” he frowned, asking genuinely with pain in his eyes.

“It hurts so gosh dang much,” You frowned, tears welling up in your eyes. You'd been crying all day, and you didn't know how you had any sort of liquid left in your body.

Hugging your frame to his chest, he shushes you, “I know… I know…” pulling you off him a bit, he smiles softly at your face, wiping your tear stains, “What do you say… we watch your favorite movie, eat ice cream and get all fat on the couch, hm?”

“But you don't like my favorite movie… Plus, we watched it yesterday…”

He shakes his head playfully, “What're you talking about? I love that movie! We can watch it as many times as you want.”

Sobbing beside him on the stretcher, you hold his hand, tear droplets falling onto his hands. “I-I…”

“Hey [Y/N], y’know I love you, right?”

“I love you too…”

“Are you going to see him?” Hobi inquires, an unreadable tone dripping from his voice.

“Taehyung's taking me, he hasn't been awake long, and we think we should be the first people he sees after the doctors…” You smile softly, packing your bags with a change of clothes, snacks, and your wallet. Grabbing your phone and keys, you head towards the door, “You should swing by to see him soon. You're probably the closest person to him after Taehyung and me.“

Hoseok nods, moving out of your way as you leave.

“Taehyung, a-air--” Yoongi rasps out, patting is deongsaeng’s back before Taehyung releases him. Smiling at the taller boy, Yoongi turns to you, a full-blown grin stretching across his face.

“Min Yoongi,” You begin, a smile on your features, “How dare you scare me like that!”

“Hey, I didn't try to die!” He defends himself, his voice rough and sore.

“I love you," you whisper, trying to fight back the tears of joy you felt seeping out of your eyes.

Making a pouty-kissy face, “Don't say that just because I just because I'm in the hospital,” he pleads, holding his chest with his hand in an attempt at humor.

“I'm not joking. I love you,” You repeat, brushing his bangs to the side.

“I love you too,” he grins, glossy-eyed and mushy, his gummy smile brighter than ever.

Hobi wished he'd never followed. He wished he'd stayed at the apartment where you'd left him. He may have turned you down all those years ago, and he may have caused you to suffer an unbearable amount, but as the yellow chrysanthemum blossom lays flat in his hand, he can't help the bittersweet smile that ghosts his face.

One of the nurses passing by the hall stops in front of him, eyeing the flower in his palm, “Chrysanthemums… The yellow ones, they mean sorrow.”

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