#but i also feel like it swings a little too far in the other direction sometimes

[spotsandsocks]

Hiiiii Spotty 💕💕💕

🎅+fireplace

-❤️🪐

Hello my friend… let’s see what fireplace cooked up in my head 😉 just short of 600 words here we go.

Buck had been walking right behind him, close enough so they kept bumping into each other. He’d been talking too, nineteen to the dozen about the history of Christmas cards of all things and why it’s sad they’re falling out of fashion, but he’s not doing either of those things anymore. Eddie’s taken at least four more steps than Buck has back into the room, he can tell because his back feels colder without the ever present warmth of Buck’s body. He’s also stopped talking, mid sentence, not much stops Buck when he’s on a roll so Eddie knows something is wrong. Twisting round ready to investigate he’s surprised by the expression on Buck’s face, he looks like he’s about to cry.

It’s hard to imagine what’s caused the sudden swing in emotion, Eddie closes the gap quickly, rests his hands on the swell of Buck’s impressive biceps, catching hold of his watery eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Buck isn’t looking at him, he’s looking at something behind him.

“What’s that?”

Looking over his shoulder in the direction indicated Eddie can’t see anything that would make Buck cry.

“What’s what?”

“That!” Buck pulls away from him and moves to his fireplace and suddenly it’s clear. He answers the question, it’s not a particularly hard one anyway.

“It’s a stocking.”

“Why’s it got my name on it?”

Another easy and fairly obvious answer.

“Because it’s your stocking.”

“Mine?”

A quick flash of blue then Buck refocuses on his stocking, pinned to Eddie’s mantle. His fingers are tracing the embroidered letters gently. Buck is far too focused to notice the expression on Eddie’s face which is lucky, he knows that all his complicated feelings about Buck are on display right now but Eddie allows himself the moment, he’ll put it all away again in a second but right now he can let his heart break a little at Buck’s shock and sadness and quiet joy that he’s got a place in Eddie’s home, that he’s finally found somewhere to belong.

It hurts to know why it means so much to him, to find a stocking with his name here in Eddie’s house. Eddie hates what Buck's parents did to him, he deserves better, so much more, so much love.

Eddie takes a breath and wipes his face clear of most of the love he has for this man, leaving only the acceptable parts on display.

“Not many other Buck’s around here are there?”

The tone is light and teasing, his friend probably can’t handle much more right now, maybe one day soon he’ll tell him everything else, how much he means to him, how much he wants with, but not right now.

There’s almost no warning when arms are flung around him, forceful enough to make him stagger backwards a little. He always forgets that Buck’s surprisingly fast for someone so large. Engulfed in a strong embrace it’s pure instinct to lift his own arms and hold on tightly too. Buck hugs him tight, head buried into the crook of his neck, words whispered there too.

“Thank you.”

The two words are quiet but full of emotion. Eddie indulges himself just a little, presses his lips to Buck’s curls and whispers back. “This is your home, Buck, you belong here, with me.”

Arms tighten, both Buck’s and his and Eddie sees no reason to let go anytime soon. Buck’s stocking is on his fireplace and Buck is in his arms and everything is just as it should be.

Yes I know more fluff! Hope you liked it 😊

[yokelish]

Well, I might have argued my point in slightly wrong direction. It's not "bad writing" that I have issues, it's the writing that's lacking. The foundations are there, no one bothered to actually build anything on it tho. My main argument for Neve/Lucanis relationship isn't that it's bad., it's doomed. Because the game gives me little to no reason to think otherwise with the writing that you are presented in the game. Nevanis as a relationship is underdeveloped to a point of coming across as fairly superficial. It's not that Neve and Lucanis are bad for each other. It's worse. They are nothing each other. They are an indulgence, a pleasant, romantic dalliance in shitty times. The writing doesn't suggest they can make each other better. It doesn't suggests they can make each other worse. it suggests next to nothing outside of, frankly, hottest banter. I love it. I hate it.

There is potential. It's wasted. It's ignored. The game wants to sell me an idea and gives me no reason to buy into it. Veilguard is actually very good at this. For example, the game tries to sell me I can trick Solas with a fake dagger. It gives me no reason to believe I could actually do it outside of "you are the main character". The game wants to introduce you ideas it doesn't even want you to sell on. You can discuss with Davrin the future of griffons, say that there is no changing one nature, say that redemption and change are impossible. But then give griffons to Arlathan, to embrace change, and Davrin won't even say "Huh. That's surprising."

Nevanis isn't inherently bad, its just the writing is so terribly lacking. The point of writing a relationship is you actually believe it. I am incredibly skeptical of any relationship that is happening because proximity and war times. I believe Taash and Harding relationship because of how it was written. I believe the romance between Dorian and Bull lasting -- not forever maybe-- but at least 5-7 years. Because of how it was written. Emmrich and Strife are put into an interesting place because one person is not your companion so you can't really know. But the very little you can gather about Emmrich and Strife is that a. they are both mature men who are not new to this game b. they take this relationship seriously c. neither is a stranger to more impermanent romances so whichever way their relationship swings is totally fine. If it's forever? Ok. If it's temporary? Fine too. They can be Dorian and Bull. They can be Blackwall and Josie. Even where Emmrich and Strife take place is more compelling.

An argument can be made that Nevanis takes place in the same space as Emmrife. And I can will agree with you, under the condition that the relationship is far more likely to be temporary. Their lives are duty bound, they both live in a lot of darkness (talk about balance Davrin, it's hard to make light when you never had to), their lives are always on the line, they bond over said darkness a lot....

Lucanis and Neve are only as interesting as the questions you shouldn't be asking. Especially if Lucanis is the Hardened one. Because after Lucanis gets hardened, they just kinda leave him there. Hardened against what? Mostly the player. But also not. Because certain cutscenes do not change regardless of where Lucanis stands with you. Hardened Lucanis and Rook relationship should have been complicated, but it's also not. Hardened Lucanis could have developed a more Spite-inclined streak, he could have grown more selfish, tired and traumatized by people who either see him as an obstacle or a tool. But he doesn't? Not really? Hardened Neve is much better written in my opinion, especially -- again, my opinion -- if you only pursue platonic friendship. Because Hardened Neve going through the turmoil of romantic feelings is expected, Hardened Neve going through "you let me down once why now have you decided to support me and why do i feel so fucking grateful for having a friend in you' is another.

I would like to emphasize: it's fair you as the leader of the Veilguard, get the brunt of the Hardened Character. You made the call, you live with the consequence. Consequence being one of your companions and their dynamics with you is irrevocably changed. That's fine. What's more upsetting that complexity -- the compelling factor, the oomf that should have happened -- of Hardened Lucanis's journey gets chucked into the Fade Prison. They made the decision to Harden Neve and Lucanis when writing them. Could they have added a bit more for Hardened Neve? Totally. But even then, her hardened path does leave me so wanting. You get it. The complex relationship you are having, the feelings that are all tangled up in a yarn ball. But instead of expending on Hardened Lucanis, they cut it. It is meant to basically say Lucanis cuts himself off from you, that there is a line he will not let you cross (but also not). Hardened Neve is interesting, she compels me so. Hardened Lucanis is...there.

When Hardened Lucanis doesn't give you an option about Illario, that was great. That was the only interesting thing tho. Lucanis taking away choice from player that would be there had he not been Hardened. But that's the most and the only intersting thing they do with him.

Neve gets development on hardened path. She is going against her instincts because she sees the needs of Dock Town cannot be met by her alone, she dismisses principles because they no longer work or apply to blighted Minrathous and much empowered Venatori. She understands that to continue to fight for Dock Town, she will need to change the rules just as much as the Venatori do. Hardened Lucanis reacts to being made First Talon (thing he denied for years, saying he didn't want it) the same way non-hardened Lucanis does. The main difference between Hardened and Lucanis is the question of Spite. Lucanis says he will go wherever, do whatever to separate from Spite. And he will. That's who Lucanis is. Maybe he'll succeed, maybe he'll die trying. I'm not sure how well that journey will go considering he is still First Talon with duties and responsibilities.

To say Lucanis heals from his childhood trauma by saying he doesn't resent Caterina is... stretching. Lucanis accepts what Caterina put him through as a thing that needed to happen. He says Caterina was so hard on him and Illario so they both survive and he doesn't resent her for it. His childhood was rough, tough, hard, etc. etc. because it needed to be that way. That's most likely what allowed him to survive the Ossuary. The choice was made on "I don't resent Caterina anymore" not "I forgive Caterina". Hardened Lucanis will not forgive Illario (and argument can be made that he shouldn't regardless), but it is telling that Hardened Lucanis is certainly putting some distance between himself and his big soft heart. But also isn't.

I think Neve and Lucanis are cute together. He respects... No, fucking admires her right off the bat. The way he compliments her battle prowess? WOW. Their banter and witty remarks are great, they even have a few overlapping interests (murder, books, and Venatori downfall). Neve and Lucanis without the One of them is Hardened, would be a couple to outcouple anyone for the rest of the franchise (if it lives). The fact Neve makes him laugh is so fucking precious. But what wasn't written into the game, might as well not exist. And it wasn't written. I don't care what Mary Kirby said on bluesky. If it wasn't written, it doesn't exist. They have a fucking codex "Sexuality in Thedas" and for what?

It is not outside of possibility that Neve and Lucanis help each other, there is nothing written in the game that suggests it, however. You can however look at the state the game leaves characters after the Final Gambit and reasonably conclude this relationship requires a LOT of work. And if the writers wanted to sell you on this relationship as something worthwhile, lasting, well-suited, well-considered, well-intentioned -- they needed to write it.

I don't mind the fact Hardened Lucanis cuts off romance with Rook. As a character writing, it's an interesting choice. Not particularly good, or particularly bad. It gives to Lucanis's character just as much as it takes away. It could have been a fascinating journey of forgiveness and rebuilding trust, but that would require A LOT of writing resources. So I don't think it's much as in "Lucanis is a deeply passionate man and internalizes the experience" as it is about "that kind of journey requires immense writing resources not to mention everything else". As you mentioned before, Lucanis is said to be sentimental and with a big-heart (which either gives him the capacity to either forgive Illario, but there is no forgiveness with Hardened Lucanis). Would I have died to see the incasing of Lucanis's soft big heart and then uncasing it? Totally. I understand why I can't. But I don't understand more as to why he is so... stagnant a character if Hardened. He retrieves more into himself when he could have been compelled to turn more spiteful, more selfish, more... anything, really. Neve still comes across as a more dynamic character when Hardened than Hardened Lucanis.

Again, the issue of Lucanis/Neve romance could be resolved with like 5 extra dialogue lines. It's not particularly hard. Neve saying something like Lucanis should consider making a deal with Spite because a deal is easier than chasing an answer across Thedas and still not get a satisfying one. After fucking all, the capital of human mage empire doesn't seem to have answer to his problem. What are his chances? Lucanis could be mentioning something about the scars Illario's betrayal left but also the fact his family has grown three times in size compared to last year and those bonds help. The game will smack you on the head three times that Lucanis and Harding trust each other and are friends. But the game cannot have a little something that suggests this dynamic -- Neve and Lucanis -- this relationship is doing something for those characters in terms of further development.

Example, Neve gets taken by Elgar'nan. Lucanis reacts. Thank FUCK he does react, actually. "You cannot not what Neve means to me because I myself never really told her, everything was just the tip of an arrow". Beautiful. Could he have also mentioned in Final Gambit that he has told her? That he is definitely telling her the moment Elgar'nan drops dead? Anything? For fucks sake say something about Eluvians needing to work after all the elven gods are dead so you can save time on travelling between Antive and Tevinter. The man is fucking romantic, for fuck's sake, and Rook just brought back his lover. I don't expect Neve to comment because the woman seems utterly out of it after being in Elgar'nan's grasp for weeks and I don't blame her.

The devil of Veilguard hides in the details. It's a constant issue if you look close enough. What do you meant Ferelden is all blighted? Hadring and Emmrich just camped there? What do you mean Taash went to speak with Shadow Dragons? Aren't they all scattered and in hiding? Rook, what do you mean "Solas, try a cure. Be the god your agent needs you to be." What cure is there, Rook? What cure you think is there? We watched the same memory, did we not? What cure you suggest he tries? It's the only memory where you are given a choice, and it's entirely meaningless and more importantly -- stupid.

The little detail that irked me is after Inner Demons Lucanis, in his charming and fumbling way, brings up the fact Neve is always on his mind. Except he says "You were there, in my mind. You helped Rook." Helped? Helped? That's what we call it? Lucanis, I understand what you wanted to say. You really should have thought this through, however. That was dishonest. Please have a better conversation with your romantic partner about your feelings, thoughts, and experiences, that was very bad.

My favourite background relationship is Taash and Harding because it gives. It gives what you need to know it's gonna work. Taash and Harding are emotionally open with other, even if talking about feelings is hard for Taash and Harding tends to ignore negative emotions. They have like 1-2 banters about it, and you already get that either: Laash formed a romantic relationship after building a strong platonic one or they are actively working on their relationship, all depending on when you get the banter. You are presented with emotional issues that are confronted in a relationship. Can this relationship fall apart? Can it turn into nothing? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a relationship. But the writing of it makes me want to think it will not, not ever.

Neve and Lucanis have candlelight dinners and that's hella nice. But what is there to tell me this flowers-and-chocolates fantasy will not fizzle out the moment they go to live in cities they are heart-and-soul bound to? Not much, honestly. Yes, Lucanis is a romantic, and Neve has a heart of gold. But Lucanis is also dutiful to a fault and almost incapable of placing his wants first. And so is Neve, honestly. What is there to suggest that Lucanis or Neve will be able to hold each other to a higher standard? Cynical Neve grows more cynical, her belief that people can let you down turns into more people will let you down. And Lucanis isn't all that equipped to deal with his cynical cousin after growing up together. And Hardened Lucanis during Final Gambit doesn't emrabce the idea of living his life as his own until he gets rid of Spite. Which is something that may never happen.

Harding even goddamn helps Taash with mother issues via having fucking conversations. Harding has a healthier perspective, a better point of reference. Taash encourages Harding to not be so afraid of her anger, anger is normal, if you are angry, you are angry, just deal with it in a healthy way. Taash is honestly great. Taash doesn't get enough recognition. Tho, their questline commits a rather egregious crime. Lucanis and Neve banter is flirtatious but not deep. And it can be said because the characters are just that way, except no, Neve and Bellara do discuss their romantic lives (or more specifically Neve's feelings). So, no again there.

And the nuance of a relationship of Hardened Character/Unhardened Character is just fucking missing. Could Hardened Neve/Lucanis forge a bond undying? Could they make each other better? Could each other worse? Could Spite commit murder-suicide in their sleep? The writing leaves out so much of it out, you can use your imagination to build palaces, you can also realistically say it will end with not much changing for either of them. They will come out of that relationship exactly as they entered it. Lucanis might be affected because it's his first and failing your first relationship is a scar of its own. Neve however? It happened. It was nice while it lasted.

So if in Final Gambit, after Lucanis and Neve have been doing this seeing each other thing for some time, after Neve potentially coming back from the dead, both of them knowing they can die in a few minutes i do not believe in their romantic relationship as something long-lastin, why am I not to say this relationship is doomed? The relationship between those two people will inevitably end and sooner than later. That's all it means.

And, yes, it grates me that a game is about "everyone can be redeemed" and "don't get stuck in your regrets", you will not be able to meaningfully influence your companion whose cutscenes on Tearstone Island do not change. So you have that bond. But also you don't. I'd be down if the bond was entirely one-sided. But it's not. The writers could have chosen to take the cake away with Hardened Lucanis. But they didn't. They wanted both chairs, so the sitting is uncomfortable.

Idk, man. Seems like a buckwild take to say that just because Lucanis can't heal with Neve the way he does with Rook makes him and Neve a bad pairing. Like, there's no one right person for anyone. One True Love™ isn't real and there are all kinds of relationships that work just fine. There's no one right way to deal with trauma. And love comes in so many shapes and sizes.

I don't think it's outside the realm of possibility that Neve and Lucanis help each other get better together. It won't look the same as either does with Rook, because, well, they aren't with Rook (???).

But I firmly believe that both of them would hold their partner to a higher standard, demand that they accept more love than they think they deserve, because they want better for their partners. And while that might not lead to Lucanis unraveling his trauma à la Mind Prison, it doesn't mean Neve couldn't help him find another route through.

(I also think it's a bit unkind to think a 35-36 year old man who has already dealt with his childhood trauma (re: he "doesn't resent Caterina anymore", implying he once did and he worked through his shit) wouldn't eventually work through the Ossuary and Spite on his own. It would just be slower and look different and that's OKAY! Romance is not a prerequisite for dealing with trauma.)

Also, and I will die on this hill, it is not "bad writing" to have Lucanis be unromanceable by a Rook who chose to save Minrathous. Lucanis views that choice, as logical as it may be, as a betrayal. You've betrayed Treviso, the Crows, and him. And, he's someone who REQUIRES a close emotional attachment to feel attraction (demisexual, hello???). So, yeah. You let his city and people die a slow terrible death to the blight, he isn't going to fall in love with you. He literally can't. It makes complete sense and I thought it was a BRILLIANT choice by the writers. If you save Minrathous, you get a totally different Lucanis and I think that's incredible.

Neve doesn't lock you out if you save Treviso because she is a much more rational and logical thinker than Lucanis. Lucanis is called "soft-hearted" and "sentimental" multiple times across the game and tie-in media, where Neve is known for her icy exterior, wit and cleverness. It makes complete sense.

I am begging people to stop calling elements they personally dislike "bad writing".

[fabaceous]

I feel with all of Shauna's..questionable decisions/ shitty actions, people forget that teen shauna can actually be..pretty kind/empathetic? Obv not the most out of the yellowjackets but she still has plenty of compassion, theres the stuff with Jackie you mentioned, but she was also by far the kindest to Javi, going up to the attic for Tai, she has a tendency to jump into action whenever someone's hurt/freaking out (Van, Mari , Lottie at seance), etc..some people will act like shes evil lol (sorry I'm pretty defensive of teen shauna😅)

OKAY THANK YOU 😭😭😭 i am also really defensive of teen shauna and i think her good side gets overlooked a lot because it's generally more interesting and plot-relevant to talk about is how fucked up she is and how much she sucks...and im not saying its not true!! but at the same time, yeah, i think it's easy to forget that she really can be sweet and kind and empathetic and like, just an actual decent person. going up to the attic with tai is a great example, and the seance too like you mentioned, i always think of how she's one of the first to try to comfort lottie and try to like, get her through the moment, because yes she is very good in a crisis. and i loved getting to see shauna take javi under her wing. its funny cause i saw a post about how shauna is nurturingcoded but not actually nurturing and i DO AGREE at least in regards to adult shauna but teen shauna was really sweet with javi, very big-sisterly, and i also think that instinct to jump in during a crisis and try to take care of people is pretty nurturing of her.

i dont have like a big unifying statement or psychoanalytic theory about why shauna is both compassionate and cruel but you know what, maybe it's a simple answer: she's complicated and contradictory, like most human people (and teenage girls) are! and it just so happens that the things about her that are fucked up are like, super fucked up. but thank you for mentioning her genuine good traits because i think they are underappreciated and its nice to remember that they do exist.

[starkidmunson]

glitter & crimson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Time passes in ways Eddie doesn’t fully understand, in the aftermath of Steve’s injury.

A few days are spent lounging around the hotel room with Steve drifting in and out of sleep, for the most part. Then they graduate to small day trips. Squeeze in some touristy shit; museums and landmarks not too far from the hotel, in case Steve gets a migraine or starts feeling nauseous. 

Day 6 features a follow-up at the hospital, where Steve is told the bandage is no longer necessary to cover the worst of the injury, surgery won’t be necessary, and he’s clear to fly home or wherever else he wants to go. Which means Eddie is also free to leave LA, but he’s already stuck it out this long, so he decides to continue to follow Steve’s lead and spend another day.

He gets a call from Steve before he leaves his hotel room on Day 7, informing him that Max is leading a trip to the beach before they leave California again. Steve insists it’s the least he can do since Lucas flew out to spend the last few days with her, so she could stick around until Steve was clear to travel again.

And that’s how Eddie finds himself wearing lavender board shorts from the surf shop that looked the least like a tourist trap, dousing himself with an entire bottle of the highest SPF he can find before stepping out of the store. His black ripped jeans and the Judas Priest shirt he’d worn, not anticipating a trip to the beach, are folded into the bottom of a large tote Robin is carrying with ease, as she picks out towels for everyone to lounge on. She catches sight of him and raises an eyebrow, but he holds his hand up to stop any commentary.

“Black is just going to make me burn even more than I’m already going to burn, and the blue pair I liked were the wrong size, so lavender it is.” He defends, but she just shrugs at him, keeps smiling and walks over to pay for the towels and her bathing suit.

Behind Eddie, Lucas clears his throat. He spins to find Steve, blushing and glaring at Lucas, who’s grinning. 

“What? Don’t tell me I need to defend the trunks to you guys, too. I thought you’d be on my side.” He whines.

“Oh, I don’t think Steve has any issue with your shorts. Or lack of a top.” Lucas teases, then laughs as Steve swings a soft punch into his shoulder.

“I just…” Steve trails off, turning his attention back to Eddie and Eddie can see the heat rise from Steve’s cheeks up to the tips of his ears, coloring him a soft shade of pink. “I didn’t realize how many tattoos you actually have, I guess.” He eventually settles on, before immediately occupying himself with finding sunscreen.

Eddie lets it slide, and they all pay for what they need, before crossing the street and trekking toward the water. Max is the first to toss her shorts and sandals into a pile, running toward the ocean and diving into the first wave she encounters. Lucas is just a step behind her, and he’s quick to catch her waist and throw the two of them back into the water just as she’s resurfacing.

Robin shoves a rented umbrella into the sand and Eddie helps expand it, as Steve lays out his towel so his face is covered by the umbrella’s shade, but his torso down is exposed to the sun. Eddie, on the other hand, huddles up so most of his body is concealed by the umbrella.

“Oh shit, dude, I didn’t even think to ask. Are you worried about getting seen out here or something?” Steve asks, and Eddie frowns. It takes a moment before he realizes it probably seems like he’s hiding from any potential paparazzi.

“I get bothered so little by media that I hadn’t even thought about that if I’m being honest.” Eddie shakes his head but smiles at how thoughtful Steve is. “I’m just a little too pasty to trust the sun on a cloudy day, so direct exposure like this always makes me nervous. But I like laying in the sand and I’m happy you wanted me to tag along. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” he assures Steve, who smiles at him until Robin mocks a gagging noise and makes them both blush and look away from one another.

The salt air and crescendo of waves and bellowing laughter kick up a surprising amount of inspiration for Eddie, and he fishes his phone out of Robin’s bag, typing away while she and Steve sunbathe. 

He’s so caught up in the piece he’s working out that he doesn’t realize anyone has spoken to him until Steve’s pressing a hand to his knee, looking a little concerned. 

“What? Sorry, I got an idea and I had to get it out before I forgot about it.” He mumbles, typing out his final thoughts before giving Steve his full attention.

“We’re going to return the umbrella and grab food before heading back to the hotel to pack up, if you’re hungry?” Steve asks, smiling at Eddie. He looks back at his phone to realize their hour with the rented umbrella is nearly up, so he nods and helps clean up the space they’d taken over, before they find a beachfront restaurant that doesn’t mind that none of the guys are wearing shirts, or that Max’s hair is still dripping wet, leaving a trail behind her as they move to their seats.

Once they’ve eaten, they go back to the hotel. Eddie asks if he can shower to get the sand out of his hair before he changes back into the clothes he’d had on pre-trip to the beach. When he re-enters the room, almost everything is packed up and Robin is on the balcony, talking on the phone.

“Nancy called,” Steve explains from the sofa, as Eddie flops beside him, towel-drying his hair gently. He hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on yet, not wanting his hair to make it all wet while it air dries. “Did they hurt?”

“Hm?” Eddie’s confused instantly, looking at Steve before realizing he’s eyeing the tattoos across his chest. “Some of ‘em more than others, yeah. But it’s a good kind of hurt.”  Eddie explains, and Steve frowns, but that’s okay because Eddie knows not everyone gets what he means whenever he explains the tattooing experience like that. “It’s… kinda like if you have itchy sunburn and you accidentally scratch it? It feels good to have scratched it, but it also hurts.” When Steve still looks confused, it’s Eddie’s turn to frown. He looks over Steve’s exposed arms and takes in the soft golden color they’ve turned and his eyes narrow. “Do not tell me you’re one of those genetic anomalies that doesn’t sunburn and always has a perfect tan, Stevie.”

Now Steve is grinning, throwing a shrug in Eddie’s direction. “Blame it on the 8 years of swim club during the summer off-season.” Steve laughs as an explanation, and Eddie instantly wants to know more about everything Steve has ever done in his life, but doesn’t know where to draw the line at how much is too much to ask to know, so he ultimately doesn’t ask for any further information. Which is fine, because Steve is leaning closer and taking hold of his left forearm, twisting it and tracing a finger along a snake that wraps around his skin. “Do they have meanings?”

“Some of them, yeah. Some of them I just got because I liked how they look.” Eddie admits, watching Steve’s fingers trace along the delicate lines of the snake. “That one’s got its mouth open like it’s hissing and about to bite.” Eddie considers what comes next, and decides to just lay it all out on the table. Steve had been open and honest with him, Eddie could return the favor. “Snakes are supposed to be a symbol of inner strength and perseverance, and they look sick. I got it after my first stint in rehab.”

Steve doesn’t falter, doesn’t even blink, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would think Steve had already known about his trips to rehab before he’d said anything. Instead, he moves on to trace a blackout band around Eddie’s bicep. “Do any of them have stories you want to share? You don’t have to if it’s too personal.”

He’s stunned to silence for a moment, something that doesn’t often happen to Eddie. But he’s so used to everyone pressing to hear more about rehab and addiction and recovery that his brain physically needs a moment to catch up to Steve. “Oh. Uh. I mean, the one you’re touching doesn’t have a meaning or story, I just liked how it looks.” Eddie thinks for a moment, then, before he holds out the inside of his right forearm. “This one is a puppet master. Master of Puppets is my favorite Metallica song, and when I learned to play it is when I realized that music could actually be a career path for me.” They run through a few other tattoos; the Wyvern, the spider, the “you bow to no one” in elvish down his spine. While still working up the courage to tell Steve more, he switches his approach. “Do you have any tattoos? Or have you ever wanted any?”

“I’ve never thought about it in a serious way, because I’m not sure I’d like having something on me permanently like that.” Steve shrugs, flipping his arm over to point at his right wrist. “The few times I’ve thought about it, it’s been like. A robin, here. The Roman numerals for 94 somewhere. That kind of stuff.”

Eddie smiles softly, nods. “It’s adorable that you’d want one for Robin.” He teases and lets the moment breathe for a moment before he circles back to the tattoo of the snake. “I’m not ashamed of my story, or my history, but we hadn’t really talked about, you know. That aspect of things, yet. But, I mean. I made terrible choices when I was younger, and I got in over my head with drugs harder than I realized. And it’s happened more than once. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m magically cured because drugs haven’t raised an issue for me over the last few years. But I’ve been mostly sober for almost 4 years.”

“Mostly?” Steve asks, concern clear in how softly he speaks, and Eddie can’t help but grin and shrug a little.

“Still some weed sometimes. Still drink beer sometimes. Both in moderation, not anything out of control. It, uh, probably sounds weird but those weren’t substances I had issues with, so I don’t… I don’t really think about drinking or smoking as cheating, but I know some programs would call it that way.” He shrugs, and Steve nods, processing the information.

“Well, thanks for sharing that with me. I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but. I learned a few new things about you today.” He offers with a little smile, and Eddie nods back. They slip back into silence, until Robin slips back into the room, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Did you ask him?” She asks, and when Eddie turns his attention to Steve, he flushes.

“No, I uh…” He trails off, picking at a fingernail before looking up at Eddie, then back down at his hands. “We’re flying back to Chicago tomorrow, and we were wondering if you had your plans set for heading back to Nashville?”

“Oh, yeah. When you guys initially said you’d be leaving tomorrow, I booked a flight home for tomorrow afternoon.” He says and watches Steve’s lack of reaction. Wonders if he should have asked about joining them in Chicago until Steve gives an awkward smile. 

“Right, that makes sense.” He nods. “Well, we can all head to the airport together, at least?”

“Yeah, sure.” Eddie agrees, turning to look at Robin in the hopes of finding an explanation, but she turns away to take her turn in the shower, leaving Steve and Eddie together on the sofa.

~~~

Gareth picks Eddie up from the airport once he’s touched down in Nashville, and they head back to his house. Eddie throws himself into the comfort of his sofa, huddling up to a pillow with the intention of taking a nap, but his phone buzzes in his pocket. When he fishes it out, he smiles.

Stevie: Dustin has taken over the apartment, but we’re home. Hope you got home safe, too.

“Why are you smiling?” Gareth asks as Eddie is typing out his response.

“I’m not smiling,” Eddie responds instantly, schooling his expression and shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Oh, so Steve texted you,” Gareth says, matter-of-factly, before scrolling on his own phone. “Want to order food? I’m hungry and you don’t have anything edible.”

“Why do you assume Steve texted me?” Eddie asks, frowning and sitting up straighter.

Gareth raises his eyebrow and glances over his phone at Eddie before he sighs. “Because you were making that face you’ve been making for the last month every time you text him, and you just got home from a week with him, so obviously he’s texting you again. Your turn to answer; food?”

Eddie stares at Gareth for a moment, watches as he turns his phone around to face Eddie, showing off the Uber Eats screen, before he scoffs and takes the phone to place his order. Before he hands it back to Gareth, though, he holds it just out of his reach. “What face am I making?”

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t play dumb.” Gareth laughs, but Eddie frowns deeper. Gareth frowns back, then. “You really haven’t put it together?”

“Put what together?” Eddie asks, finally handing Gareth his phone back. Gareth takes it, but doesn’t look away from Eddie until he answers.

“Dude, you’re in love with him.” He says, like it’s obvious, before going about placing his own order.

Eddie thinks for a moment. He knows he has feelings for Steve; finds him attractive and interesting and definitely wants to see if something is there. But to know that his friends can see through him puts him on edge, makes him defensive. “I’m not in love with him, we’re just friends.”

“Eddie,” Gareth laughs before he sees the serious look on Eddie’s face and he sighs. “Look, man. I’m not trying to start a fight or make you spiral or anything. I’m just saying. You leaned into a TikTok trend for him, voluntarily learned about the sport he plays, helped nurse him back to health after he got hurt and spent an extra week in LA to be with him longer. And now you’re texting him, again, like you did after we left Chicago. There’s something there, whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe it’s not love yet, but that’s where it’s heading.”

Silence settles over them, just the sound of Gareth’s short nails tapping against the screen of his phone, for a long moment. Eddie processes what he’s said, thinks it over, before flipping back to the text messages from Steve. He reads the words over and over before he decides on an answer.

Eddie: Glad you’re home safe. Miss you already.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a response, as Steve answers no more than two minutes later.

Steve: I miss you already, too, Eds.

Eddie considers responding but decides to tuck the phone back into his pocket instead. He drums his fingers against his knee, settling into a melody before he nudges Gareth’s leg with his foot. 

“Wanna help me set up the studio downstairs while we wait for the food?”

Gareth meets his look, raising an eyebrow. “Inspiration strikes over Steve Harrington?”

“I’ve got, like, four different ideas I started fleshing out in LA without instruments,” Eddie answers instead and ignores the smug look on Gareth’s face as they stand and make their way to the basement Eddie converted into a recording studio to get it ready while their food is delivered.

[januaryembrs]

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard. 

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already. 

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears. 

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger. 

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line. 

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about. 

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour. 

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard. 

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl. 

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?” 

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog. 

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails. 

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy. 

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven. 

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. 

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in. 

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was. 

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode. 

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous. 

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was. 

He was just a kid. 

They were just kids. 

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult. 

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him. 

And if that had been true, then where were they? 

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering. 

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours. 

Which was when he ran to get his dad. 

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank. 

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks. 

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier. 

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son. 

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together. 

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave. 

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about. 

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien. 

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,” 

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other. 

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do. 

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him. 

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military. 

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell. 

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was. 

-

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life. 

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again. 

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning. 

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,” 

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it. 

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left. 

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated. 

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” 

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here. 

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person. 

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,” 

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly. 

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together. 

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias. 

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway. 

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard. 

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. 

She was a mother. 

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers. 

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body. 

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again. 

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?” 

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself. 

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite. 

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him. 

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight. 

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.  

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked. 

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way. 

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely. 

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,” 

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?” 

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave. 

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in. 

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.) 

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful. 

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-” 

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely. 

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset. 

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes. 

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them. 

[billskeis]

Hiiiii, um I'm not sure if this is too much but could you do Bill kaulitz smut win his big poofy hair era with a reader that has like super curly like fluffy hair, and he like pulls in it while there having y'know, fun, it's okay if not but thank you so much :)))

ᡣ𐭩 bill's love for fluffy hair

“okay guys huddle up! we’re gonna play truth or dare!!” one of the girls at the house party shouted loud enough that her voice boomed throughout the first floor.

“c’mon bill! let’s go play,” you grab his hand, leading him to the large circle of bodies that surrounded the living room.

it was just a casual weekend where you and the band got together with a couple of other friends your age to just simply hang out. tom was doing his own thing, hanging with both the guys and the gals that came around, georg was with his girlfriend and gustav was content by himself..

with a liquor bottle..

it wasn’t news to anyone about you and bill dating. both being lead singers of the hottest bands right now, hot, spunky, and the sexiest voices anyone could’ve ever heard this time of year!

you sat down beside a girl you’ve meet a couple times backstage during concerts. she’s really cute you thought, greeting her, the two of you peck each others cheeks saying little ‘hi’s after one another.

bill has a grip on your hand where your fingers are interlocked, you turn to look at him pouting at you. giggling, you think about how he gets jealous really easily, even if you don’t swing that way, the little things seem to just get to him.

you place a gentle kiss on his forehead, leaving him flushed.

“mmm okay let’s start with.. y/n! truth or dare?” tom asks,

“dare!”

“alrightalright, write something embarrassing on your body with a sharpie..!”

scoffing, you raise an eyebrow at the silly dare.

“surely you have something better than that,”

“hey, we’re just getting started y/n”

he tosses a black marker over in your direction and you catch it with ease. you pop off the cap by using your mouth and hand the marker over to your boyfriend.

a bunch of “ooo’s” and “ahh’s” filled the room as bill looked at you in shock, you can hear tom and georg cheer slightly while everyone else was giggling and laughing.

“go ahead babe, write something embarrassing,” winking at bill, he swallows a hard lump down his throat, sweat beginning to form upon his forehead.

“matter of fact, why doesn’t everyone write something! but choose your words wisely, i won’t hesitate to beat someone’s ass.”

placing his hand on your shoulder for leverage, bill leans his head a little closer to your neck to write what he thought was embarrassing.

he feels an uncomfortable tightness grow in his pants. the volume of your hair to which it reaches, lets a curl of your hair touch his forehead, tickling it.

it was also one of the rare occasions where you let your natural hair be. soft curls that adorned your face, draping down your shoulders. you had always straightened your hair as much as bill uses his hairspray.

one can wonder how your hair stays healthy with how much heat you put onto it, but you know how to take care of it.

heaving in a deep breath, bill inhales the scent to which your shampoo left. it smelled, clean and fresh, like that of lavender and roses. he couldn’t tell, but just knew it smelled good.

you had showered earlier that morning, bill reminiscing it. having walked in on you to grab his eyeliner and fix up his makeup, not that you minded it much because you’ve been dating a while now.

watching you through the reflection of the mirror, watching as the water seeps through the scalp of your head, through your hair, and down your soft and supple skin.. falling upon the curve of your back and—

“bill?? are you done??” you ask him, slightly concerned.

“o-oh! right.. yeah ‘m done..” he hands over the marker to the girl sitting opposite to you.

you can’t see what he wrote due to the inability of the human body physically unable to bend your neck far enough, but you couldn’t really care less as to what bill had wrote.

the marker had been passed down from figure to figure, and everyone was finished up writing. there was about ten more people in that circle, which took up quite a lot of time.

snickers and quiet laughter filled up the room, you were really curious as to what people wrote on you in the areas you were unable to see.

but on that where you could, you could see “bitch” and “whore” spelled on your body. rolling your eyes, you laugh and flick away the marker in tom’s direction hitting his face knowing he wrote one of those.

“ow!! what was that for y/n 🥹🥹”

“don’t act stupid tom.. i’m gonna go see what the rest of you fuckers wrote.”

you really did not care as to what anybody wrote, shit like this didn’t get to your head because in all honesty, it was kinda true, in your rockstar nature, of course. just pure curiosity to see it is all.

“i’ll be back baby,” you kiss bill’s cheek, “wait for me kay?”

he just sat there, looking up at you as you stood up and adjusted your dress to walk towards the bathroom down the hall.

a few seconds later, a figure follows you.

pushing aside the hair that hid your neck, you look into the mirror to see what bill had wrote on you.

‘meine liebe <3’

pft, that’s not embarrassing at all, laughing to yourself. endearing if anything. bill probably wrote it not because he thought you wouldn’t be able to handle the insults that decorated your body with black ink, but because he just really really liked you and it hurts him to play rough like that.

for now.

as you’re about to exit the washroom, you open the door and are immediately shoved back into the tight space of the tiled room. “what the fu—”

“shhh meine liebe, i don’t want the others to hear us..”

it was bill. despite you telling him to wait, it seemed as though he had other plans. he left harsh kisses on the bare skin where ink hadn’t stained you, filling the empty space of your body with hickeys.

“b-bill! mmph, people are gonna see..”

“yeah? let them see, let them see how what they wrote is in accordance with who you are,”

he pushes you gently against the bathroom counter, allowing you to slightly sit on the edge of the top for leverage, wrapping your arms around his neck as he assaults your neck and chest with his mouth leaving sloppy wet kisses.

purple and blue bruises finding its way onto you.

using his knee, he parts between your legs. one arm is placed onto the curve of your back while the other slips it’s way under your dress, fingers pressing into your heat while he moves the fabric that gaps the contact of your skin together in circles.

“oh gott.. i can feel how wet you are already, so needy hm?”

“w-well.. when you do that, i can’t help it,”

unconsciously, you find yourself grinding onto his hand and he obviously amused by this. pulling the lip of your panties to the side, bill swiftly inserts two of his fingers into your heat.

“agh..! no warning..?” you yelp,

bill just grins and tilts his head at you, putting on a facade of fake sympathy and pity, beginning to drag his fingers in and out of your cunt slowly,

“pretty lil’ pussy was just askin’ for it.. couldn’t help myself,”

“hair looks beautiful by the way,”

“hahh.. thank you..”

he places soft kisses on your lips, after each compliment that spills out of your body while he slowly finger fucks you. at some point he took out his fingers and pulled your panties down to your knees.

this gives him easier access to rub your clit while his fingers are also inside of you.

“so pretty.. so soft.. you should leave your hair like this even more.”

curling his fingers into your g spot, your body jolts into his, your head leaning forward into his chest, forehead resting on his shoulder as you attempt to quiet down your moans.

simultaneously, bill thumbs your clit in circles, painfully slow. drool threatens to spill out your mouth as you then bit your lip and using your hands once more to keep the moans at bay.

a throbbing to your head as bill has your hair in a tight grasp, “ugh fuck.. you feel so good in my hands—don’t hide your moans schatzi, i wanna hear em..”

“you just told me to be quiet..!”

“well, yeah. for me to hear but not them :) please? wanna hear the pretty noises you make.”

all he could do was smile at you as he begins to thrust his digits into your pussy at an animalistic pace. squealing, you feel the knot in your stomach become tighter as bill’s grip on your hair does too.

“f-fuck bill nngh.. ‘m gonna come,”

“naughty.. you clench harder every time i touch your hair,”

patting your head, he caresses the top of it as he motions his fingers in a ‘come here’ motion, abusing that spongey spot leaving your legs feeling like jelly, almost about to fall onto the floor but he keeps you up with the arm that fucks into you.

you attempt to push him away with what little strength you had, but he only shoves his body closer to you as he speeds up the pace of his fingers overstimulating you.

“b-bill.. enough,”

“but look at how you’re sucking me in!”

bill can’t help but giggle and laugh at how pathetic you are under him. you’re so cute like this! all out of breath and sensitive, he found that every time he pulls or tugs on your hair while fingering you, your cunt cannot help but clench around him.

he’ll have to keep that in mind when the time comes around and he gets to fuck you.

“come liebling.. come while i finger fuck you. just f’me, pretty girl.. my slut, all mine..”

his chin now rests atop of yours, tilting his head a bit down to inhale the scent of flowers, taking it all in along with how fluffy and soft your hair feels on his face.

your body convulses and shakes under his touch as bill jerks his fingers into you. a squelching sound can be heard throughout the small bathroom, hopefully unable to be heard from those outside. you bite your lip so hard to hinder the moan that you swear you bit a cut into your mouth.

“perfect.. you’re so perfect like this baby.. you did amazing..”

bill lets you ride your orgasm out on his fingers, fingers still inside you as his thumb fully positioned where your clit is rubbed as you motion your body. thighs clamping around his limb as to not let go.

as he removes his fingers from your cunt, you whine at the cold feeling of air and emptiness that hit your heat.

taking his fingers into his mouth, he licks up your juices that coats his hand as if it were nectar, like honey, as if it was the last thing he was going to eat. tired, your body falls onto bill’s as he brings you into a hug, rubbing your back.

your body melts within his touch, you don’t wanna move but you didn’t want people to find out what you and bill just did, so you gotta act as though everything’s normal.

bill pulls your panties back up as you adjust your dress. he takes off his sweater to drape it over your body to hide your hickeys. but really, it’s not hiding anything and it also just makes it more obvious as you and bill did something in the washroom.

the two of you basically left the room together. because as soon as bill left to follow you, they all planned to be sneaky and nosy to see what the two of you were up to.

“good job princess, let’s head back out, ja?”

you just nod, humming. cheeks all flushed and shy from what just happened. you intertwine your hands with his as you both exit the bathroom, unlocking the once locked door. only to be meet with a pair of eyes, actually, a lot.

everyone was standing outside the washroom. waiting for you and bill, to.. finish. smiles were shared, eye contact was made.

tom, gustav and georg, well.. they were definitely cheering for their lead singer. your band also hyping you up for the action you so-called do not get.

“well shit.”

[aclowntiny]

Things Seventeen Do That Make Your Heart Flutter

I love these but also like when can I get a Seventeen *cries*

S.Coups

♡ Takes his voice a couple octaves lower to murmur sweet nothings between kisses

♡ Sits behind you with an arm wrapped across you protectively

♡ Texts you to make sure you got home safe if you ever go out late, have something scheduled in the evening, or go somewhere unfamiliar

♡ Moves your hair &/or shirt out of the way to press kisses to your shoulders

♡ Rolls up his sleeves slowly but firmly, looking genuinely a bit surprised that you're watching so intently

Jeonghan

♡ Calls you adorable with the fondest smile directed only at you

♡ Raises your joined hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your hand

♡ Pulls you into bed with him, hands going to your hair as soon as you fall onto his chest

♡ Boops your nose, plays with your cheeks & nuzzles into them

♡ Teasingly swipes his tongue over your lips when you're kissing just to see what you do

Joshua

♡ Tells you this next song is for you as he takes his guitar pick from between his teeth, beginning a new melody

♡ Listens to you & makes eye contact so intently, a tornado could pass by behind you & he wouldn't even notice

♡ Holds the umbrella for you & kisses you in the rain like it's a movie scene

♡ His hands always gently rub your back when he hugs you

♡ Kisses your hand, then slowly takes his time all the way up your arm to your cheeks & finally your lips

Jun

♡ Tells you he just can't resist you, you know

♡ Pretends to bite you, every now & again very lightly actually giving the side of your face a joking bite

♡ When you're done laying down, takes both of your hands & swings you back up, making you feel like for just a second, you're flying

♡ Hypes you up constantly, telling you you're the most beautiful person ever in the whole world, actually

♡ Twirls you around the room when you're dancing just so he can admire you before reeling you in once more, your back against his chest as you move & sway as one

Hoshi

♡ Notices if you ever wear different perfume, leaning in & practically nuzzling your neck to get a sniff after he points it out

♡ Gives you the occasional little nip between kisses

♡ Holds you on his lap with both hands around your middle, resting his head on your shoulder with a huge smile as he lightly sways you

♡ When you're sitting at a table together, his foot finds your leg, hooking it & trying to pull you closer, giving a giggle or a smirk depending on how far he manages to pull you

♡ Finds excuses to slide his hands over your body as you two dance

Wonwoo

♡ Chuckles deeply & fondly when you start showing him affection

♡ Links your arms together when you share a book, pulling the pages a bit closer to his vision & you to his body

♡ Takes you to the most beautiful places, but his eyes hardly fall on the view because they won't leave you

♡ Tells everyone else to be quiet when you're speaking & considers your opinion first

♡ Gently lowers you into bed with a hand at the small of your back

Woozi

♡ Leans in & bites the tip of his pen softly as he listens to you intently

♡ Gently pulls your head onto his shoulder when you sit next to each other, his fingers ever-so-slightly running through your hair

♡ Lets you try his Seventeen ring on, smiling so widely if it fits you, too

♡ Always lets you play your favorite songs, even if he doesn't particularly like them

♡ Can't wait to spend time in private with you, because it's during the moments between only you two that he gives you the most passionate kisses

DK

♡ Sings you love songs, then bursts out into a wide, shy smile afterward

♡ Grabs your hands in his & makes you clap for both him & yourself depending on the situation

♡ Accepts any excuse to tell you xyz quality, situation, skill, or anything really is why he loves you

♡ Does love shots when you guys have drinks or even with your spoons in hand if you have ice cream

♡ Can't give you just one kiss, you'll get a ton of pecks before getting pulled into a more passionate one

Mingyu

♡ Caresses your cheek with the back of his hand

♡ Grins as he flexes & lets you hang off his arm, feeling so cool & looking just as confident

♡ Spends a whole day just to learn how to make your favorite dish with you at his side

♡ His eyes light up when you show him a new outfit you got, gaze drifting over all of it as he smiles Bigger & bigger, telling you how amazing you look in a wonder-filled tone

♡ Turns to steal a kiss on the lips when you lean in to press one to his cheek

The8

♡ Tells you he'd really like to kiss you- may he?

♡ Manages to take the most flattering pictures of you & when you comment such he remarks that that beauty is how he always sees you no matter what

♡ Lays his hands over yours to guide them as you paint a picture together

♡ Presses kisses to the shell of your ear when he looks over your shoulder

♡ Traces patterns on your back as you lay together

Seungkwan

♡ Remembers your drink order & surprises you with it as often as he can

♡ Absolutely melts into your kisses every single time, whether it's the first or the twentieth, his face breaking into the most precious smile

♡ Back hugs you, placing his hands over yours & resting his head in the crook of your neck

♡ Almost always holds your face in both hands when he kisses you, pulling you in so gently & taking his time as his lips move with yours

♡ Reminds you almost daily how much better this world is because it has you in it

Vernon

♡ Idly holds the strings of his hoodie between his lips

♡ Lets his hand slide down your jawline after he places his headphones on your head, pulling you in for a lazy kiss

♡ Reminds you that you can tell him anything, you know, expression solemn yet deeply loving

♡ Even if you're sitting at a table, he'll find a way to brush your knee with his

♡ Really casually will just tell you that you have really beautiful eyes, you know

Dino

♡ Holds your waist & guides you as he teaches you a new dance move

♡ Believes you can do anything, almost completely blind to obstacles as he expresses complete confidence in your ability to carry out your dreams & desires & show your skills anywhere

♡ Pulls up his shirt to wipe sweat off his forehead

♡ Whispers little jokes to you just to make you laugh & see your smile as you fall a little closer into him

♡ Surprises you with kisses at the most random times to keep you on your toes, giving a great big grin at your expression thereafter

[wrathofrats]

idk why but I thought you may like the idea of Aurora, when she's new to performing publicly, fears that the fans may see her as "the innocent one" or something similar due to her being Very Obviously Smol in comparison to the other ghouls, ghoulettes, and of course, Papa. Being, y'know, a demon, she instead decides she wants to be the raunchiest one on stage...

So she decides to try and sneak a flash of some kind to the crowd during a ritual and it may go a bit further than she intends :]

I hope this is ok!! I modified the request a bit bc I was having thoughts and ideas. It’s maybe a bit misogynistic, dew and Swiss really teasing Aurora over the whole innocent thing. But I am a gay woman so I’m allowed to perpetuate sexist stereotypes and if you disagree you’re also sexist. (THIS IS A JOKE) but know the banter is in good fun, they’re obv all some kind of poly bonded pack thing so auroras gucci.

Or aurora decides to throw her panties into the crowd, and things don’t exactly go her way (based on that panties on dews guitar gif you know the one)

“I’m not doing this with you right now dew” Aurora grumbles, batting his hands off of her.

Dew looks too smug. Like hes won some secret game that Aurora doesn’t know about. A mischievous glint in his eye that makes Aurora want to kick him in the balls to hopefully neuter his perpetual horniness.

It’s their own little tradition at this point in the tour. Swiss and dew and whoever else was bored would come hang out in the ghoulettes dressing room while they pinned their hair to fit neatly under their helmets and to apply the black face paint. Dew usually showed up to steal cumulus’ never ending supply of bobby pins, and swiss was there to help with smearing the paint onto everyone.

“Iighten up your highness” dew laughs, backing away from her with his hands up as if he didn’t just wrap them around her body to grab at her waist. “You’re not this prudish when you come knocking at my hotel door”

“I’m not a prude,” Aurora grumbles. Swiss and dew giggle to themselves as Aurora swipes her hands at them to make them back up from where she’s placed herself on the counter. She can feel cirrus’ glare through the mirror, directed at the two idiots that are currently still laughing among themselves.

“You’re telling me you’re not ms ‘don’t mention sex around the other ghouls! They can’t know I’ve fucked you!’” Swiss teases, his voice pitching to mock auroras. “Come on princess, I don’t know why you demand to be seen as so innocent.”

Aurora wants to scream at them to leave their dressing room already. Dew and Swiss can tend to be idiots while they’re separated, but together? Aurora isn’t sure how they manage to lose brain cells when they combine.

“I just didn’t want anyone knowing I’ve fucked you, I don’t care about anyone else”

She’s not innocent like Swiss says, is she? Sure she’s smaller, tends to be more reserved in that regard, but Aurora thinks it’s unfair to call her innocent of all terms. She could be worse sure, not tending to go as far as humping the stage or groping her bandmates like dumb and dumber, but she likes her little act. She likes her swishy cape and little dances with her tambourine, and how she twirls and -

God maybe she is a princess.

The boys continue to laugh, mostly shoving each other around at this point. Aurora can hear cirrus yell at Swiss to shut up and help her with her paint, even now lost in her own thoughts. Ideas come and go, staring at her lap and swinging her legs. She’s not innocent. She’s just as bad as the rest of them and they all know that. The fans know that too, right? She’s a demon, a fucking creature from hell.

She’s not innocent.

She hops off her perch to shove her way past dew and into the bathroom to pull her uniform bottoms off. Her idea is probably stupid, will probably get her reprimanded and placed on whatever terrible chore imperator comes up with when they get back. But the reactions from the other ghouls, especially Swiss and dew, will make it worth it.

Aurora quickly takes off her panties and pulls her uniform back up, cringing at the feeling of the rough fabric against her. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but the weird insecurity of not wearing underwear makes every sensation feel tenfold.

A 5 minute call sounds through the rooms. She grabs her underwear and hastily puts them in her pocket before running out to get in her position.

Her movements are meant to tease. Hands running over her body, jutting her hips behind her hoping Swiss will look back at her. She wants him to come on her platform, wants him to take her on the innocent act she’s been offering. She wants him to smell her through her uniform.

It’s just an extra personal part in her plan. She tries not to bounce giddily as he does notice and run behind the different set pieces to come walk up into her space. He can feel his breath on her neck as he approaches her, his all too wide smile trying to intimidate her, mock her after their conversation earlier.

Auroras lucky Swiss is good at improv, and an even better performer. Barely reacts as she shoves him to his knees. Even grabs her thighs and mock drags his tongue along her legs. Hes fucking obscene, she should’ve known the reaction she would get like this.

The real reward is the way she can see Swiss’ mouth twitch as he shoves his face right next to her cunt. He can smell her, would nose against the outline if they weren’t still performing in front of thousands of people, honestly she’s sure he’s forgotten considering the way his face turns into a snarl. Aurora is positive she will pay for this later, but for now? She couldn’t be happier.

The second phase of her plan comes once Swiss leaves. She eyes the audience carefully, eyes her bandmates to wait for the perfect opportunity. Dew turns to mess with rain, while phantom moves to mess with the audience on his side of the stage. All the ghouls are occupied, not paying attention.

Aurora pulls her panties out of her pocket, balling them in her fist so they can’t be seen through her hand. Hastily she throws them towards the crowd, praying they make it to their destination.

Whatever she prayed to however, is not listening.

They land directly next to dewdrop, right by his feet as he steps back onto them. He pulls his foot up, eyeing the black fabric in confusion. She watches in horror as he swings them around his finger, looking back at her as if he knows they’re hers,

Before hanging them on the head of his guitar. Displaying them for the whole crowd.

[loveywon]

♡𓂃 BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

part 2 here!

pairing: jungwon x (gn) reader x niki

wc: 3.3k+

synopsis: you cant help but let jungwon break your heart. again. (inspired by let you break my heart again by laufey!)

warnings: ANGST, high school au, cursing i think i cant remember, sullyoon (nmixx) mentioned, not proofread, ANGST AGAIN BIG WARNING SRSLY, niki loves reader so bad, jungwon is kinda mean but not intentionally, reader needs to open their eyes srsly

a/n: everyone say thank u laufey for putting out one of the best songs ever!!! also this fic did NOT turn out the way i planned it.. niki wasnt even supposed to be in here😭 and the ending was also not planned PLS

“I’m sorry, Y/n, I can’t date you right now…” Jungwon says awkwardly, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck as he avoids eye contact with you. You should have expected this, really. The evidence was all right in front of you, but you chose to ignore it. 

“That’s fine! I know that you can’t…I just wanted to let you know,” you smiled up at him, despite his avoidant eyes. Jungwon nods at you, his kind and soft eyes meeting yours. He knows you, and he knows that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes like they normally do whenever he would crack a lame joke or when he would do something affectionate towards you. 

His lips curve into a slight smile, although the corner of his eyes don’t crinkle up. “Maybe in a few years, yeah? We’ll still be friends, Y/n. I could never leave you.” He promises, he promised. So why, three years later, you’re standing in the hallway while you see Jungwon mess with some girl’s hair that’s not your own? 

Niki jogs up to you, not reading the full situation since he arrived at school late (again). “Y/n! Did you see the fight out..side…” his eyes follow where your own are staring at, and he frowns. He doesn’t say anything, but instead he decides to direct your attention to something else. “Y/n! We’re gonna be late to history, c’mon!” He ushers, though he could care less about being late to history.

You met Niki a year after Jungwon rejected you, and you immediately introduced him to your friend group after. You never told him about your feelings for Jungwon, although you didn’t need to. Niki knew – after all, it was quite obvious with the way you swooned and giggled whenever Jungwon would do literally anything. 

Niki tugs on your arm like a little kid until you get annoyed, finally tearing your gaze away from Jungwon and the other girl talking. He smiles at you, but you don’t return it. You keep your head down, walking side by side with your friend as you look over your shoulder, still wishing that it was you with Jungwon instead of her. 

You weren’t the one three years ago, and you’re not the one now. 

Your hands ball into a fist after you were too far down the hall to see Jungwon clearly, and Niki is still rambling about something mindlessly while you’re buried in your own thoughts. You almost bump into another student and Niki has to drag your arm closer to him so you don’t crash into someone. 

“Y/n,” he whines out in a drag, wanting you to pay attention to him. You reply with a hum, not in the mood to say much after seeing Jungwon with someone else that isn’t you. 

The frown finds its way back onto his features, swinging your arm with his hand that’s gripped onto your forearm. “Wanna come over tonight? My mom let me buy this new game after saving up and I wanna show you!” He replaces the frown with a smile when you finally look at him. You give him a slight grin which makes him beam, but your following words cause his eyes to drop.

“I can’t, me and Jungwon are studying for bio tonight at my place. Maybe tomorrow? And we can go to that cafe you wanted to bring me last week too,” you offer with a tilt of your head.

It’s always like this. It’s always Jungwon first to you. At this point, Niki’s used to it and he almost expects you to hang out with him the next day. He supposes that next time, he’ll just have to ask you earlier before Jungwon does. 

Niki nods, giving a smaller smile this time before the both of you walk into your class. 

“Jungwon, hey!” You wave excitedly down the hall where Jungwon awaits by his locker for you. He leans off his locker, his head looking up from his phone as he spots you. He waves back at you, a smile gracing his features. Niki is following close behind you, but he’s too busy on his phone and doesn’t give Jungwon a form of greeting before he’s actually face to face with him.

“Okay, I’m gonna go, see you tomorrow, Y/n,” Niki says goodbye to you and gives Jungwon a nod before leaving.

“Ready to spend five hours reading a textbook?” You try to joke, nudging Jungwon lightly with your elbow, but instead of giving a lighthearted laugh and returning your joke, he’s glancing at his phone and smiles down at the screen.

You look away, your bottom lip in between your teeth. This was so awkward. After Jungwon rejected you, he actually never did get with anyone else, but he has been talking to a few people here and there throughout your high school career, so you were used to this routine. But he’s never smiled at a text before. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” Jungwon asked after putting his phone in his back pocket. You know he doesn’t do this on purpose – there is no mean bone in Jungwon for him to ever do something like this to purposely and intentionally hurt you. It’s one of the many reasons why you love him, you suppose. 

“Oh, nothing,” you mumble as you look away, the two of you walking down the sidewalk. You don’t notice this, but you always have to match his pace to walk side by side as his legs naturally walk fast because of his busy schedule, being in multiple sports and clubs. “Are you prepared for this week’s test?”

“What? We have a test this week?!” Jungwon panics, almost halting in his steps to look at you as you struggle to catch up with him. “Yeah! It’s on Friday…it’s literally in three days. You didn’t know?” You ask. This is the first. Normally Jungwon is the one to remind you of a test in your one shared class together.

“Shit,” he curses, running a hand through his hair. You two continue walking to your house and you laugh a little to ease up his sudden stressed mood. “It’s okay! That’s why we’re studying today, right? I’ll help you,” you smile, giving him a reassuring thumbs up, “but this is the first time you don’t know of a test, are you feeling okay?” You chuckle in a joking manner, turning the lock on the door and letting him enter first inside your home.

“Yeah…guess I got distracted,” he muttered. He makes his way straight to your room, knowing where it is as he’s been over more than enough times. You follow behind him, closing your door as you drop your backpack onto the floor.

“Distracted? From what?” You expect his answer to be something like ‘Oh, just sports’, so his answer knocks the wind out of you.

“I’m planning to ask out Sullyoon…” he trails off, not wanting to meet your eyes. He didn’t want to hide anything from you, you were his best friend! But when he takes a slight peek at you, and notices that your jaw is agape and your eyes no longer twinkling like they normally do whenever you look at him, why does he feel guilty? Was that even the right word to describe the ache in his heart when he sees your smile falter, eyes gazing down at your hands? Look at me, please, he thinks to himself, but he’s not sure if he really wants to see your sad eyes look at him like he was the worst thing that has ever happened to you.

You think, in a way, he is. But you know yourself well enough to know that you’d let Jungwon in your heart no matter how many times he breaks it.

He wants to change the subject, maybe back to biology because he actually wants to get a good score, but his first priority will always be you, and he doesn’t want to belittle your feelings just because of a silly little test grade that will barely affect his overall percentage, anyway. 

“Is…is that okay?” He asks after some silence, unsure on how to approach this. You blink, eyes still staring at the ground, but you quickly look at him after he speaks.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You say, which catches him off-guard. “Jungwon…you can date whoever you want. Why are you asking me as if you’re asking permission or something,” you laugh it off, but you feel like you’re really more fighting your inner demons rather than seeing it as no big deal.

You’re too nice, Jungwon thinks. He doesn’t deserve you, he really doesn’t. A smile appears on his face, dimples and all showing on his cheeks. “Really?” He says excitedly, and it hurts you even more to see that he’s so excited to ask out Sullyoon. “So, you’ll help me ask her out? Cause I don’t really know what to do, honestly.” He asks, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed in the heart a million times.

You can’t say no. Not to Jungwon. And you hate him for that. 

“Sure.” You smile. 

The following day, you keep your promise to Niki and go to the café he wanted to show you and to see his new game. Although your mood is obviously deflated after last night’s study session with Jungwon, Niki decides to make it his life mission to make you smile and laugh. 

“Oh my gosh, this strawberry croissant looks so good,” you gasp, bending down slightly as you look through the clear glass that showcases many different pastries. 

“I know! When I came here a few weeks ago, I knew you would like it. We can get it and share, if you want!” Niki offers, giving a smile as you point and admire every pastry. 

“Really??” You look up at him, toothy smile and all, and he nods in response. He pays, because he would buy the moon for you if it meant seeing you smile. He thinks Jungwon wouldn’t do the same for you. 

You two enjoy the pastry, giggling about whatever happened at school that day or complaining about the overwhelming amount of homework your teachers assigned before walking to his home to check out his game. 

Niki thinks he successfully distracted you from whatever was bugging you since last night (he already has a hunch that it’s because of Jungwon), but you’re walking slower than you usually do and your head is slightly lowered. It’s probably not obvious to others that you’re in a sour mood, but it’s definitely obvious to Niki. 

“Y/n,” he starts, but you cut him off before he says anything else. 

“Jungwon wants to ask Sullyoon out,” you blurt, looking up at him with your bottom lip jutted out like you’re about to cry, and you feel like you are. Niki thinks he’s never felt his emotions affected by someone before. 

“Oh,” is all he says, because what exactly can he say? He’s mad, yes. He’s mad at Jungwon, because he can’t seem to understand why Jungwon would ever choose anyone over you. 

“And I’m helping him by asking her,” you breathe out, like it's the hardest thing you’ve ever said in your entire life. Scratch that — confessing to Jungwon was the hardest thing. 

“Oh.” Niki’s not good at comforting, but he wants to, so bad, for you, he would learn every language in the world. 

“He’s never…Jungwon’s never liked someone enough to ask them out. But I—“ your voice breaks and Niki swears a part of him breaks as well. You guys finally reach his house, and he gestures for you to enter first with a tilt of his head. You enter, walking straight to his room because you know his house like the back of his hand. 

You then realize; Jungwon’s always over at yours, but you’ve been in his house once and it was only to drop off homework from when he was feeling sick and you didn’t even go in. You have no idea what his house looks like, but you know every knick knack about Niki’s. 

As you two enter his room, he sits on the edge of his bed and pats the spot next to him. He may not be good at words, but he can offer a comforting shoulder. You give a slight, but weak, smile in appreciation and you sit next to him and instantly lean your head on his shoulder like it’s nature. 

This isn’t the first time, and Niki knows this won’t be the last time that you use him as comfort whenever Jungwon talks to someone new. He’s okay with that. He’ll wait for you like you wait for Jungwon. 

“Niki,” you say his name for the first time the entire day. You’re not crying, you already wasted enough tears on Jungwon. 

“Hm?” Niki hums, his fingers playing with your own, and it’s a little too intimate for Niki’s usual liking, but he’s willing to step out of his boundaries for you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, and even though you don’t clarify what you’re thanking him for, Niki knows. He knows that you’re thanking him for being with you for two years, pining after Jungwon and using Niki as a shoulder to cry on. 

His eyes droop down, and he’s upset that he met you. He’s upset he met you in this universe, where you’re hung up on your crush on Jungwon, and not another where you two can live happily ever after, without Jungwon plaguing your mind. 

Niki vividly remembers the time you two met. It was in ceramics class, and you were there because you genuinely liked pottery and he was there because he just had to fulfill his visual arts credit. He struggled on the wheel, the clay always never staying up because he made it too thin every time. You noticed him struggling after observing for a week straight, and decided to finally lend a helping hand. 

After that, he followed you around school and walked with you to your classes (with Jungwon, of course, he’s always with you), and now you’re just used to his presence and he’s used to yours. What started off as a mere friendship, he’s now attached to you, despite knowing that you will never see him the same way you see Jungwon. 

A week later after helping Jungwon with a plan to ask Sullyoon out, it was unfolding right in front of you. With Jungwon’s back facing you, and seeing Sullyoon’s face beam with light when Jungwon asked her if she wanted to be his girlfriend, you visibly cringe. 

You just didn’t understand. What did she have that you didn’t, and why did Jungwon want her, and not you, who has been by his side ever since fifth grade? It’s been three years since you’ve confessed – you thought you’d get over it by now, but seeing them hug affectionately in front of you, made your eyes drop to the ground, hands balled up into a fist as you fight against any bitter emotions bubbling in your chest. 

You don’t notice that Niki is watching from afar. He had just gotten out of detention, and didn’t expect to see you in the school halls an hour after school had ended. He almost got excited, perhaps you were waiting for him to get out of detention so you could go to the cafe together again, or maybe you wanted to see his video game that you didn’t see last week!

But then, he sees Jungwon and Sullyoon hugging and your still figure watching them. He frowns deeply. Why do you still stick around? He supposes he should know the answer. He sticks around for you, so there’s no difference between you and him, really. 

You turn on your heel and leave the school, not saying goodbye to Jungwon or Sullyoon. You think if you see Jungwon turning to you with a bright smile that you know is not from you, you’ll start crying. 

Niki follows behind silently, not wanting Jungwon to notice him as he follows you out of the school. He catches up to you, despite your rushed pace because you want to get far away from where the love of your life and his now girlfriend is. 

“Y/n! Hey…” He says, jogging up to you and matching your pace when he’s side by side with you. 

You looked up at him, shocked. You forgot he had detention, so he must’ve gotten out right when Jungwon had asked Sullyoon out. You turn away, hair falling forward to cover your eyes. “Hi.”

He frowns again. “You want my shoulder?” He offers.

You smile slightly, it’s such a weak smile, and Niki knows that, but he appreciates your efforts. “If that’s okay with you.” 

You find yourself in your living room with Niki, head buried into his shoulder as you cry, because you just can’t wrap your head around the fact that Jungwon said he’d date you in a few years. He promised! He never broke promises. He promised in fifth grade when you two met that he’d never leave your side and that you’d always be first to him. You suppose he broke two promises now. 

Niki’s softly playing with your hair, not looking at you. He can’t look at you in this state, because when you cry, he wants to cry too. He wishes you could see that he’s been here, and maybe not as long as Jungwon, but he thinks that he knows you more than Jungwon does. 

You know that you’ll let Jungwon break your heart again. 

You think that one day, you’ll find someone who will like you like you like Jungwon.

Niki thinks that one day, you’ll realize that he sees you more than a friend and a shoulder to cry on.

Someday, one day, you’ll let Jungwon stop breaking your heart, but Niki knows that he’ll follow closely behind you, picking up every small piece and treasure it like his life depends on it. 

You end up falling asleep on Niki’s shoulder after crying on it for what feels like hours. Niki knows his shirt is slightly damp, but he doesn’t mind. You’re softly snoring, your body leaned against him. He knows you must’ve been exhausted. He knows you helped Jungwon the best you could, despite the fact that you’re hopelessly in love with him, and he hates that you did that, but he also loves you for it.

Jungwon is excitedly opening your front door, because he knows he’s welcomed into your home any time he pleases, but as he’s going towards your room, he finds Niki on your couch. He’s confused, but he doesn’t question until he spots pieces of your hair from over the couch. 

Niki doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to wake you, but he looks at Jungwon with a pointed expression, and Jungwon knows immediately what Niki was trying to express. He frowns, not at Niki, but at himself. He didn’t realize that he affected you this much, he had a feeling that you didn’t move on from him but he also didn’t think that you were still this caught up on him.

He feels terrible, he feels like absolute shit, because he also realizes that he broke two of his promises. Then, something else swirls in his gut as you shift in your sleep, head burying into Niki’s neck. He doesn’t understand this feeling, and a part of him doesn’t want to. 

He’s with Sullyoon now, isn’t he? So why, is he standing in the middle of your home, with jealousy stirring in his chest? 

part 2 is here!

taglist!: @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs

[neverpathia]

*drop these and runs away*

2. (Explore) If you have a least favorite Chapter, then how would you go about changing it?

12. (Explore) What's your favorite Voices dynamic?

25. (Explore) What’s a moment in the game that emotionally destroyed you?

nevvey has a PhD in yappanese so this came out too long, oops

2. least favourite chapter

huh. well I know everyone's been answering the greys for this, and I don't wanna be another member of that echo chamber, but honestly I'm kinda struggling to think of my least favourite right about now. the ones that are great are great, and the ones that aren't as great. uh. they're more or less on the same tier if I'm gonna be frank

fine. I'll cave. it's drowned grey. haven't seen her route yet but in all fairness I don't feel like it, not too interested, already know what happens, and am scared of being scared. with burned grey, at least I can respect the themes at play. the extremes of blind devotion playing into callousness. the crossing of boundaries that one has claimed to demolish. violence to fix violence met with violence. hurt intended to cure hurt.

there's at least more of an emotional reaction there, but with prisoner? you're less obligated to feel something for her, I guess. I'm not saying you're not a fucking traitorous scumbag if you slay pris, but I'm just saying that she provokes less pity and sadness than slaying the damsel. drowned grey to me comes off as pure spook factor imo. it's a tale of vengeance, that's it. there isn't as much to explore there.

drowned grey works as a route but it's not as complex as I would like it to be. and that's fine for the game. it works. but it's just kind of there. I wouldn't know how to fix it because the course of events still makes sense, but it's just. underwhelming. I wouldn't do anything about it but only because I have no idea how.

12. favourite voice dynamic

OH COME ON. YOU FUCKING EXPECT ME TO CHOOSE?????

so it keeps teetering between parahero and smittunist but in the end I've just been writing those things out in my head and the majority of how i perceive it is all fanon. it doesn't matter. nix. nada. nothing.

if we're going to talk about in the actual canon...probably still smittunist. it's hilarious how they interact in thorn. oppy being the same bootlicker as always, and smitten just mindlessly swinging behind GASP HOW DARE YOU and OH YOU ARE SO RIGHT FOR REAL, is just kind of golden. but at the same time it's sweet how smitten makes up for oppy's faults here. and at the same time as much as they contrast and you can still tell that oppy hasn't really changed too much but there's still something there and it's still so unresolved but they still manage to put aside their differences and stuff- plus. funny dialogue. it's gold. it's just gold

but at the same time I recently did den, and I think hunted and skeptic's a bit of an underrated dynamic. there's an inherent trust that's obviously there between most of the voices already, but it's especially highlighted with skeptic's plan and stuff. i can kinda hear them as a grizzled old man and the scruffy little creature he picked up on the side of the road and decided to adopt. he taught him that plans matter, yay. he saw him make his first friend (den in rescue), yay. it's adorable.

but then we also have hero and paranoid giving broken a reality check in apotheosis and like. paranoid losing his mind. broken having lost his mind in the other direction. a confused hero being the only sane man. them powering through together as a team anyway. the two gay uncles and the depressed nephew they got stuck with babysitting. I can't-

[rams my fist straight into the wall and splinters all of my phalanges and releases an uncouth yelp worthy of a soprano] I CANNOT. DON'T ASK ME TO CHOOSE.

25. worst trauma

look. all the pristine cut stuff so far was absolutely devastating, and I am specifically laser-focusing on Happily Ever After with that comment.

but the moment that fucking punched me in the gut and had me doubling over was probably, thorn. yeah because she's my wife and we're married and I can't bear to see her hurt and she's reading this over my shoulder right now and she's beautiful and she's resplendent and

specifically, when you descend down the charred remains of the cabin. you hear just how resigned she is. just how tired everything has made her. and you just look, and see how badly she's been wounded. how she's been hurt. all these raw bleeding cuts and scrapes and scratches and scabs. it's so clear how vulnerable she is, and she's truly ashamed. this is what she's done. this is who she is now. this is what she believes she deserves.

and then all the dialogue options that show how much you don't want to forgive her. just as she wasn't able to forgive herself, as much as she's punished herself instead. like. like MY POOR FUCKING GIRL.

and another one for when her grip on the blade tightens... the lingering spite. the remnants of fear. the urge to distrust. she's leaving behind everything she thought she was and it's utterly ASSRRRGGGHH love you thorn.

[scuttling]

I Can Handle Me A Dangerous Man - Ch 4

Fandom: True Blood (TV) Pairings: Eric Northman/Female Reader or Eric Northman/OFC Word Count: 4,797 Tags: 18+, NSFW in later chapters, Flirting, Brief assault Summary: Cam believes she's being followed, and Eric intends to be the one to keep her safe.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Cam goes for a run just after dark, when the sun has finally set and the stifling heat is a little more manageable. Her neighborhood is perfect for it, the streetlamps glowing soft yellow as she passes, the soles of her shoes hitting the sidewalk, then the pavement when she crosses the street. A few other locals walk their dogs, or take an after-dinner stroll, or sit on the porch with a nightcap, the blinking of fireflies illuminating their faces for a brief second. 

It would be enjoyable, except she feels like someone’s watching her.

She already knows never to take the same path twice, something she adopted in Chicago as not just a woman alone, but one with a target on her back. Her preferred route would be down Wildwood, across to Poplar, and around a cul-de-sac of newly constructed homes, but that backs her up against a wall with nowhere to go if she’s cornered, so she nixes the thought immediately. 

The path she ultimately takes makes no sense, and that’s intentional; if someone’s still watching her, or worse, following her, she’ll be able to pick them out relatively simply, if she listens to their mind. She takes a left where the sidewalk is considerably bumpier, something she would typically avoid, a right where a tow-truck is taking up much of the alley.

Tuning into her surroundings, she can pinpoint the thoughts of the man walking the German Shepherd across the street, the older couple on the porch swing a few houses down. She can also catch brief flashes of thought, people too far out of range to really hone in on, but that’s about all. 

Unsatisfied, she decides to wrap up her exercise for the night, and she heads back in the direction of home; the closer she gets, the more at ease she feels, but she’s still alert and on the defensive in case she needs to be.

She’s almost half a block from her front door when her phone rings, and Pam’s name is announced through her headphones. She answers the call, breathing heavily. 

“Hey, Pam,” she greets, but Pam nearly cuts her off, quick to get to the point. 

“Eric asked me to check on you. He said he could… feel that something was wrong. Are you okay?” She slowly drawls that word, feeeeel, and Cam frowns, her pace slowing. 

“Yeah, I’m okay… well, I felt like someone was following me a few minutes ago,” she says as an afterthought. “I’m out jogging and I felt that sensation of eyes on me, you know?” 

“Are you getting that sensation now? How far are you from the bar?” Pam asks, her tone calm and even. Cam can barely hear her over the din of background noise usually associated with the club.

“No, I’m walking up to my front door now,” she tells her, pulling her keys from the pocket of her leggings. Before she inserts the key into the lock, she glances up in thought. “Do you want me to get in the car and drive over?”

“I think Eric would prefer it. I’ll wait for you in the parking lot,” she says, and then the line goes dead. Cam sighs.

“Okay, goodbye to you too,” she mutters to herself as she crosses the porch and goes down the stairs, making her way to the car.

Pam is waiting when she arrives, and she strides across the parking lot in sparkly red stilettos and a black dress as Cam gets out of the car. She pauses while Cam closes and locks the door behind her, then pivots on her heel when Cam walks toward the club.

“Ooh, do I get a bodyguard, now?” Cam teases when Pam falls into step beside her, their arms nearly brushing. Pam tosses her hair over her shoulder and huffs. 

“I consider it more like babysitting,” she replies coolly, and when security opens the door for them, she lets Cam step over the threshold first. “But Eric is concerned, and until his worries are alleviated, I’m stuck with you.” She heads for the bar and asks for a glass of water, Pam on her heels.

“Well in that case, we should really get to know each other. I like piña coladas, getting caught in the rain,” Cam lists satirically, then takes a long glug of water. She turns, hoping Pam is wearing an expression of exasperation or something equally entertaining, but it’s Eric behind her now, and he looks incredibly serious. 

“Someone was following you?” he asks, his eyes flicking over her face, her neck and shoulders where they’re exposed by the sports bra she wears. Cam shrugs and finishes her water. 

“I can’t say for sure—I listened closely, but I couldn’t hear anyone, so if there was someone there, they weren’t human.” That darkens his eyes more than she thought possible, and he steps closer to her, crowding her against the barstool at her back. 

“I don’t want you running alone at night anymore,” he says, his gaze on hers like he’s wishing his glamour worked on telepaths. “And stick to well-lit areas during the day. Ask Sookie to join you,” he suggests, and Cam nearly barks a laugh.

“Sookie, run? Only if something’s chasing her,” she says good-naturedly, but when she thinks about it, the hypothetical seems to hit a little too close to home. She shakes her head to clear the thought. “But I’ll ask Tara, or go to the gym, if that would be better.” 

“That would be better,” Eric answers, voice softer, pleased that she didn’t fight him on the rule. “When you first asked for my protection, you said that you’d made enemies. Did you have a bodyguard in Chicago?”

“Nothing quite so formal,” she says, though she wants to laugh at the thought of being important enough for a bodyguard, especially when she just teased Pam about that very thing. “But I had clients who respected me who would keep an ear out, let me know if anyone was planning something that may jeopardize my safety.” Eric nods his head, and during that moment of silence, she steps a few inches closer to him. Her turn to ask questions. “How did you know I was uncomfortable?”

He hesitates, looks behind her, at the bartenders, and then puts his hand on her shoulder, guiding her away from the front of the room and toward the office. The desire for privacy is fair, she supposes, but when he closes the door and offers her a seat, she refuses, crossing her arms. 

“No thank you. I just want to know how you knew something might be wrong. How you felt it,” she says, recalling Pam’s words. With a deep exhale, Eric takes his seat even though she won’t take hers. 

“A few weeks before you came to town, I consulted with a witch. I know,” he adds with a smirk, “many vampires fear witches, but I’m very progressive. She told me I would meet someone who would help me grow my power, my business, and that all I had to do was be receptive to it. She didn’t mention it would be a human, or a woman, or someone with psychic ability, just that I would know it when I felt it.”

“And you felt it with me?” she asks, taking a step forward and then sinking into the chair opposite him. Any resistance she had to meeting him on his level for this conversation has been swiftly replaced with curiosity. 

“The first night we met,” he answers. “I was drawn to Bon Temps that night, but not for Bill, or Sookie: I was drawn there to meet you.” Cam swallows, her head spinning at the implication, and he continues. “And the more I learned about you, how intelligent you are, how powerful, it became more than mere intuition. I needed you working at my side.” 

It takes a moment for her to form words, but when she does, she tries to make them sound less irritated than she feels. 

“You could have told me that.” Eric drags a hand over his hair, looking more unsure of himself than she’s ever seen him. 

“I didn’t want to scare you away. I wanted to prove myself trustworthy… and I think I have. I think that’s why I was able to feel you like that today.” 

It makes sense to Cam—her path to his mind, that buzzing she hears, has been open, but hers had been closed until… Well, she’s not sure when, exactly, but now that it’s open, that tingle, that tugging in her head, it must go both ways. Maybe it’s not just his presence she can feel. 

“I do trust you, but going forward we should have the expectation of transparency. If you’re talking to a witch about my future, I deserve to know,” she tells him, no nonsense. He nods in agreement, eyes on hers, and she deflates a bit, sighs. “So, does this change things in any way, now that you’ve told me? My contract or anything?”

Eric stands, so she does too, though he towers over her even with the desk between them, like he’s leaning into her space, whether consciously or not.

“I don’t believe so. If you can forgive my misstep, and accept my promise to be honest with you in the future, I would like it if you would continue to work with me as discussed.” After a moment, he holds out his hand for a shake, and she takes it firmly.

“Okay. If you promise to be honest—and know I’ll call you out if I think you’re bullshitting me or hiding things.” The contact breaks, and Eric nods.

“I have no doubts. Do you plan to stay a while?” he asks, looking over her again, but her sweat has been cooling on her skin, and she needs a shower and a change of clothes more than anything.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go back home,” she says, and he nods his head once in agreement.

“That’s no problem. I’ll escort you back to your apartment,” he says, walking toward the door and opening it. “One of us will escort you home every night, just to be safe, until we find out if someone is indeed watching you.” Her first instinct is to refuse, because she can take care of herself, but she is still a little shaken from the danger earlier, whether perceived or otherwise, so she simply nods her head and lets herself be guided out the door. She did ask for his protection, after all, and he did promise it. 

Eric walks her to her front door, his expression tight as he listens or smells or does whatever vampires do when they’re trying to solve a mystery. Cam stands in the doorway and watches him, smiles gently when he looks back to her face.

“Would you like to come in?” she asks, thinking about what she could offer him in the way of refreshments, good Southern hostess that she is… but she comes up with nothing. She should grab some TruBlood to have on hand, just in case, or more of the wine he’d gifted to her when she moved in.

“No, that’s okay, thank you. You interrupted your evening off when I asked you to; I do not want to take up any more of your time.” It’s really thoughtful of him to say, but when she shifts to say goodbye, she feels the sweaty funk on her skin, and she's instantly embarrassed, sure he must be able to smell it.

“Oh god, it’s because I stink, right? I’m sorry, I came right from jogging—” she begins; she can’t imagine how strong that kind of thing must be to vampires and their superior senses. Before she can finish, Eric leans in extremely close, his nose brushing over the bare line of her neck. He balances his hand on the door frame beside her and breathes her in.

“You smell delicious,” he murmurs, “all of the time,” and after another deep breath, he pulls back to give her space. She manages not to whimper at the loss, even though she kind of wants to, just clears her throat, and the corner of Eric’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “Good night, Camila.”

“Yeah, good night,” she calls as he turns to walk away, her brain still a half-step behind reality. Eric disappears into the night, and, feeling a sudden chill, she heads inside to shower, double locking the door behind her.

Eric feels her, sees her, and smells her all at once. She’s back at Fangtasia, but tonight she wears a short black dress with ruffled sleeves, her legs looking long in a pair of strappy sandals. It would be mouthwatering, if he allowed himself to think of her that way. 

Looking at her, yes that’s fine—it’s impossible not to—but feeling things is wholly out of the equation. 

He waits for her to approach him, can tell by the look on her face she means business tonight, and when she’s within human earshot, he moves toward her. “Camila, what a pleasure.” His eyes linger on her bare legs at his own mention of pleasure. “Did we call on you tonight?” 

“No, I’m doing a little of my own detective work,” she admits, glancing around the bar. “A former client of mine heard about a potential attack on a vampire nest not far from here, thought I might want to check it out. And I knew you’d want to know.” 

Eric presses his hand to the small of her back and they walk toward the back of the club for a little more privacy. 

“Which nest?” he asks, running through recent updates from all of the neighboring sheriffs and wondering which he should inform of her tip. She pulls out her phone and flicks open a text message. “And why do they wish to harm them?” 

“The… Densmore coven,” she says, reading over it, “and he says there’s one vampire in particular they’re after, someone named Flynn. Do you know him?” 

The look on his face when she glances up must say it all, because her expression changes completely.

“Yes, I know him. He’s always made trouble for our kind.” 

“What kind of trouble? Eating kids trouble, stealing wives trouble, graffiti-ing bloody fangs on a monument of some racist old lawmaker trouble?” she offers, texting her contact back. Eric huffs a laugh and shakes his head.

“Nothing like—well, the stealing wives thing, maybe. He enjoys seducing women, likes being their first vampire, if you know what I mean.” Cam looks up at him and exhales, nods.

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. You never forget your first vampire,” she recites, and that is intriguing… even though he wishes it wasn’t. 

“I take it you remember your first vampire?” he asks despite himself, leaning in more closely like being near her is the easiest thing in the world. Like it doesn’t make him want things he knows he can never have.

She ignores him with a playful roll of the eyes, holding up her phone again.

“Has anyone heard of a man asking weird questions around the bar? Trying to get a vampire to take him home, to their home? My friend thinks they might be doing recon.” 

It’s actually a good thing, he thinks, if they’re trying to schmooze someone at the bar: it means they’re amateurs, probably stupid, and not enough of a threat to write to the Queen about. 

“I’ll find out,” Eric says, and he’s gone in a swift rush of air, making the rounds and speaking to all of his staff members. When he returns, she’s already zeroed in on suspect number one. Clever girl.

“Gray button up shirt, trucker hat?” Cam whispers, and Eric shifts to press himself against her back. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him,” she says, and it makes him wonder what she’s getting from him, if she can feel his uncertainty the way he could feel her paranoia when she was out for a run the other day. “Is there somewhere I can take him to get him alone—somewhere you could meet me, terrify him, do your thing?” 

He murmurs an address into her ear, a house just down the block that Pam sometimes uses for entertaining. “I’ll be right behind you—and be careful,” he adds sternly before leaving as quickly as he’d gone before. 

“You’re going to let her leave with that thing?” Pam says when he almost collides with her behind the bar. He watches Cam as she approaches the man, as she slips into a flirtatious smile and lets him put his hands on her hips as they sway to the music.

“He’s harmless; I’ll be watching her the whole time,” he assures, wondering when Pam became fond enough of Cam to be concerned for her wellbeing. Maybe putting her on babysitting duty for a few weeks had been a better idea than he realized.

Getting Trucker Hat alone is easy: Cam flirts a little, dances, tells him that her vampire said she could invite a third and that she wanted him in all of his redneck glory. His clear interest morphs into a shit-eating grin when she mentions that her vampire said they should go back to his place and get started, that he would be along soon to join them. 

“Will you show me where he sleeps?” Trucker Hat asks with a squeeze of her ass as they cross the street just outside the house. Cam slips on a salacious smile and tugs him up onto the porch, turns her back to the front door to give him a very obvious full-body once over. 

“He has a secret spot under the floorboards,” she whispers, in the event no visible coffin is present. If there is one, she can brush it off as a roleplay prop. “I’ll even let you fuck me on top of it.” 

“Hell yeah,” the man drawls, pressing closer to her to grope at her breasts. He's not bad looking, has all of the suntanned, frat boy charm she expected upon first glance, but his hands on her make her want to take a scalding shower and kick him in the balls—though not in that order. She opens the door and leads him inside, steps back to watch him take in the admittedly luxurious decor. 

The foyer is grand and open, leading into a dark and moody sitting room. There are bookshelves built into all of the walls, electric candelabras conveniently lit, and Trucker Hat drops down into the middle of a purple velvet couch, his arms stretched out on either side like a king on his throne. 

“You look so good like that,” she tells him, punctuating it with a bite of her bottom lip. He pulls her into his lap—not what she’d been hoping for, but not altogether unexpected—and hikes up her skirt, so she can feel his erection beneath her, his hands on the thighs spread around him. 

“And you look good on top of me.” He pulls her down for a kiss, but she shifts, gives him a face full of cleavage instead, which earns both a grunt of surprise and a groan of arousal. “Fuck, honey. Want ‘em bouncin’ in my face while you ride my pole.” 

Cam rolls her eyes because she knows he can’t see them—the thing about being alone with a man is that she doesn’t even need to listen to their thoughts. They all spout off at the mouth and just say whatever stupid thing is on their mind anyway—then dips down to meet his gaze. 

“Mmm. Let me give you a massage first,” she counters, running a hand down his chest and stopping at his belt. He swallows hard and nods, then takes her hand and presses it down against his cock. 

“I know you’ve gotta be good at rubbin’,” he says with a wink, and she grins playfully and slides out of his lap, strutting slowly around the sofa until she ends up behind him. 

“I’m good at all kinds of things,” she says, leaning down to purr in his ear. She rests her hands on his shoulders, digs her thumbs into them in a way that she knows has to hurt a little. He exhales sharply, then covers it with a moan as she glides her fingers down to his chest, flipping open his top button, then another. “Have you ever shared a girl with a vampire?” 

His thoughts change then, flash to a pretty blonde woman, then the short, stocky, muscular vampire she now knows to be Flynn—fuck that vamp, man, and that fuckin’ fangbangin’ whore he stole from me. Slut for vampire blood and dick, stupid bitch.

“I don't share,” he says suddenly, angrily, and he reaches back to get a hand in her hair, uses it to pull her closer so that her feet are almost off the ground. He takes a hard kiss that is clearly not meant to bring her pleasure, and she reaches for his face, jamming her fingers into his eyes and earning a howl of pain. It’s then that Eric joins them, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her away from the man’s unkind grasp. 

“Neither do I,” he growls, and when the man stands quickly, surprised, Eric fists a hand in his shirt and yanks him over the back of the couch, depositing him on the floor at their feet. “I heard you plan to take down a vampire nest—you don’t look quite that stupid, but now I can see exactly how small your brain is.” 

Trucker Hat flounders, trips over his own tongue between a series of desperate apologies and outright pleading for his life. Eric maneuvers Cam behind himself, then steps closer to the man, hovering over him as if intending to crush him beneath his shoe. 

“If you harm one of us, you’re dead. If you try to take out a whole nest, I’ll make a snack out of you until you’re begging me for death.” He glances back at Cam, who smooths her skirt, brushes a hand through her hair to regain a semblance of dignity after his halted attack, and then back at the man. “And if you ever so much as look at her again, I’ll kill everyone you’ve ever cared about in front of you and then skin you alive. Do you understand?” When the man can’t manage to get a word out, Eric reaches down and grabs him by the lapels of his shirt—and he pauses for a few seconds because shoving him toward the door. “Leave.” 

Trucker Hat scrambles for the front door and out of the room, and when she can no longer hear his chaotic, frightened mind, Cam releases a long breath she’d been holding in. Eric turns to her and runs his palm tenderly over the crown of her head.

“I’m sorry. I did not expect him to be violent,” he says, sounding regretful as he looks down into her eyes. She shakes her head, both accepting the apology and dismissing the need for one.

“It’s okay, neither did I,” she tells him truthfully.

She’d underestimated the man’s rage, something she’ll be certain never to do again. 

After a moment of silence between them, she looks up and says, “You let him live… to send a message?”

Eric clears his throat, slowly shakes his head.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve if I ate his heart.” She knows he means it, his face deadly serious, but she can’t help it, a laugh escapes her at that—probably one of those trauma laughs that bubble up at all the worst times. Eric actually cracks a smile at her outburst, and his eyes soften. “Can I take you home?”

“My car’s at the club, I’m okay to drive,” she assures him, and though he scrutinizes her face, he seems to agree with her estimation. 

“Alright, but I’m going to ride along,” he finally decides. They walk back to the parking lot together, and when Cam hesitates, Eric takes the driver’s seat. Without a second thought, she hands over her keys and enjoys the feeling of being taken care of by someone—anyone—for a change.

The next morning, far too early, a knock on the door wakes Cam from a dead sleep. She pads from the bedroom to the hall and checks the peephole before unlatching the deadbolt and pulling open the door. 

“Sookie, what the hell—”

“Bill heard all about what happened to you last night,” Sookie says, brushing past her and walking into her apartment. She stalks into the kitchen and pulls down a box of tea and Cam’s kettle, which she fills with water. “I told you nothin’ good would come of working with Eric, now didn’t I?”

“I don’t… what do you mean?” Cam asks, blinking away the haze of sleep. She glances at the kettle curiously; if anything, after barely three hours sleep, she wants coffee. “Nothing happened to me last night.” 

Like her words flipped a switch inside her, Sookie spins around and faces her, crosses her arms over the baby blue peplum top she wears. 

“So you didn’t go on some dumb undercover mission and get assaulted by some creep? Bill just made that up?” she demands, and Cam raises her hands in mock defense, takes a step back.

“Okay, no, he didn’t make that up, but that’s an exaggeration. I lured this jerk to a safe house so Eric could deal with him. The guy grabbed me, but I jabbed him in the eye sockets and then Eric pulled me away. I wasn’t in any danger,” she assures her, even though she had been afraid when the man’s thoughts switched so abruptly to anger and violence. But Eric was coming, she knew that, and he was there before she could do much more than instinctively react, anyway. Sookie huffs in disbelief and opens the cabinet over her head, pulling down two white ceramic mugs.

“Not in danger, sure. You were just alone with a wanna be vampire killer—who could have had a weapon, by the way!” she adds, turning to face Cam. Cam just blinks, still not caught up from being in a deep sleep just minutes ago, and Sookie waves a sleeve of tea bags in front of her face. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid, but you don’t see me luring men out into the dark, now do you?” 

Cam takes a deep breath and moves closer to Sookie, gently taking the tea from her hands. She sets it on the counter, then wraps her arms around her cousin in a hug; the embrace lasts nearly thirty seconds, and when she pulls back, Sookie’s eyes are wet with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” Cam says immediately, placing her hands on Sookie’s shoulders. “I wasn’t thinking about how it could affect you, me coming back so suddenly and then putting myself in harm’s way. How it might get you thinking about everything you’ve lost.” Sookie sniffles and tilts her head to the side. 

“Don’t listen to my thoughts,” she murmurs, pouting, but then she laughs, something soft and delicate. Cam mirrors it. 

“I don’t need to listen to know that I’ve upset you, Sook. I really am sorry. I promise that if I’m involved in any dangerous vampire hijinks in the future, I’ll let you know right away so you don’t hear it from someone else. I can’t promise not to get involved in things,” she clarifies, “you know that’s not in my nature, but I can promise to be the one who tells you about them.” 

Sookie turns her head and looks at her, takes a soft breath before nodding her head. 

“Okay. I’m sorry I barged in here like I’m your mom—or god, like Gran,” she says with an exasperated smile that Cam duplicates. “But I worry about you. I know you can take care of yourself, you always could, but this is a new world, Cam, and it can be scary sometimes.” At that, Cam takes Sookie’s hands and holds them softly.

“I know it can be scary, but this world isn’t new for me,” she reminds her gently. “All I can promise is that I’ll be smart, I’ll be careful, and I’ll be honest with you. If I do that, are we good?” she asks her cousin, so like a sister to her it hurts her heart, and Sookie nods. 

“Yeah, we’re good,” she says with a sad smile, and then Cam playfully nudges her out of the way and reaches up into the cupboard for a bag of breakfast blend. 

“In that case, do you want to stay for breakfast?” she asks, and Sookie grins and gets to work pulling eggs and tomatoes from the refrigerator while Cam brews a fresh pot of coffee.

[xetlynn]

The Hunger Games- The Protector: Chapter Three, The Interview

(Peeta Mellark x Reader)

[two] [three] [four]

"Throw the metal thing over there." I nudge Peeta. He gives me a dirty look.

"What? No. Haymitch said we're not supposed to show our skills." He argues with me, I roll my eyes.

"Those guys are looking at you like you're a meal, throw it." I ignore what he said about Haymitch. The blond glances over to the guys, defeated he does as I say.

I see the Careers grow impressed and I walk away with a tiny smirk. If anything Peeta can ally up with them, make it far in the Games.

I walk away, going to the spears. I probably shouldn't but I need to see what I'm possibly working with. I picked it up. It was hefty, obviously better than anything I've ever had hunting with Gale and Katniss.

I swing it around, stabbing the air. It wasn't something I wanted to work with. I placed it back moving along to the other weapons. The knives were nice, easy to throw. I'll have to make sure I get a few in the Game.

I bite the inside of my cheek, walking around, observing the others and how they fight.

Districts 1 and 2 being slight show offs. Not surprising though.

I spot Peeta in the camouflage station, raising a brow as I walk over to him. "Hi." I speak up. "Hey." He mutters, doing some final touches.

"How did you do that?" I ask him, admiring the work. "I uhh, I used to decorate cakes down at the bakery. I'll show you." He goes next to the tree, showing how similar it is. "See?"

"Wow, that's amazing." I compliment him. "Yeah, thanks. Hey, I think you have a shadow." He directs my focus over to the little girl from 11, who I found out is named Rue. She hides behind a pillar.

I give her a small wave. I don't know how anyone could kill her. The thought brings me back to the whole point of why we're here. My chest tightens.

"Tomorrow they'll bring you in one by one and evaluate you. This is important because higher ratings will mean sponsors. This is the time to show them everything. There'll be a bow, make sure you use it-"

"Haymitch, I told you I'm not the best with a bow." I stop him, he sighs and looks at me. "Peeta said otherwise yesterday, just try, sweetheart." He then continues on with what he was talking about as I slump down.

"Peeta, you make sure to show your strength. They'll start with District 1 so the two of you will go last. I don't know how else to put this. Make sure they remember you." He instructs us. The two of us look at each other then back to our mentor. Nodding to let him know we understand.

We've now been waiting in the Training Center for our evaluation. It's been a while and while each person goes in I wonder what they showed them.

How will I compete against any of them? Would I even want a high score? If I get a high score that means that the rest of the districts are going to target me as being lethal.

Wanting to get me first. But if I get too low that shows me as weak, they might want to get my kill over with but that also means I can act weak and they won't know my true strengths. Less sponsors as well. I need the sponsors though. I'll just listen to Haymitch...

"[Name] Everdeen." The caller announces my name and my breathing hitches in my throat.

Immediately I feel like I'm going to throw up as I stand up. "Hey, [Name]. You got this. Shoot straight." He encourages me, I nod my head as I enter the room where the Gamemakers have been. I observe them, they're obviously bored.

I grab a bow and arrow.

"[Name] Everdeen. District 12." I announce myself, getting into position. I pull the arrow back then release but I miss the center.

I hear the Gamemakers laugh, turning away from me. I grab another arrow hitting the center then another that hits the other one, splitting it right in the middle.

When I faced the men above me nobody was paying attention. I breathe heavily, the adrenaline in my body coming out. I notice the roast pig on their table. An apple in its mouth.

I think about Katniss. How she taught me to aim for the squirrel's eyes. How she told me I was getting better and better.

How I knew if she was in my spot she would because sometimes she makes reckless decisions. But it's okay because I was there to protect her. If I do this though, who would be there to protect me?

"Hey, hey, who ordered this pig?" Seneca Crane questions the other men as they begin to crowd it and I knew this is the one chance I had to do something reckless.

Without giving much thought I quickly pulled the arrow back and shot the apple. The Gamemakers stare at me in shock.

I take a bow, "thank you for your consideration." I place the bow and arrows back. Leaving the room.

Oh god, why did I actually do it? How stupid am I? My family could get hurt. Prim, Katniss, Zayden. Oh god, oh god.

I ran to a trash can as the adrenaline left my body and so did the food I ate this morning.

"Hey, what happened?" A voice asks me after I finish throwing up. I lean my arms against the sides.

"Haymitch?" I mutter out. "It's me. Why are you throwing up." He helps me stand up correctly. "I did something so stupid." I hide my face in my hands. We begin to walk away so no one can hear what I did.

I explain how I missed the first shot and when I did the second and third they weren't paying attention, I got mad so I shot the apple. He was quiet the whole time I spoke. But when I was done he began to laugh. I furrowed my brows. "What's funny about that? They could hurt my family." I exclaim.

"[Name], they would've told you that. They let you walk out. That's nice shooting." He nudges me and I roll my eyes. "I can't believe I missed the first one." I frowned.

"Are you crazy?" Effie yells at me, pacing back and forth. "I just got mad." I mumble. "Mad? You realize that your actions reflect badly on all of us. Not just you." She tells me but Cinna steps in. "They just want a good show. It's fine." He assures her.

"How about it's just bad manners, Cinna! How about that?" Effie huffs. Haymitch walks downstairs to meet where we all are.

"Well, finally! I hope you noticed we have a serious situation." She seems glad the blond is there, not knowing we already talked about this and it seems he wants to feed in her frustration, acting as if he wasn't there to console me earlier.

"Nice shooting, sweetheart. What did they do when you shot the apple?" He smirks, joining me on the couch. "They looked pretty startled." I tell them.

"Oh? Now, what did you say, "thanks for...?" He laughs. "Your consideration." I joined him.

"Genius! Genius." He claps his hands and then points at me.

"I don't think we're gonna find this funny if the Gamemakers decide to take it out..." Effie's sentence quiets down.

"On who? On her? On him? I think they already have. Loosen your corset, have a drink. I would have given anything to see it." Haymitch tells her in all seriousness.

The television turns on, cutting off our conversation. Caesar Flickerman pops up on the screen.

"As you know the Tributes were rated on a scale of 1 to 12 after three days of careful evaluation. The Gamemakers would like to acknowledge... From district 1, Marvel with a score of 9. Cato with a score of 10, Clove with a score of 10." And so on and so on. The only one I really paid attention to is Rue, she got a pretty high score for her age, it being 7. Then it gets to 12.

"From District 12, Peeta Mellark with a score of 8." Caesar's voice says.

"Peeta!" Effie says excitedly.

"Bravo." Haymitch nods his head to the blond.

"That's great Peeta." I tell him.

"And finally," I sit up straighter. "From district 12, [Name] Everdeen, with a score of... 11." My jaw drops.

"[Name]!" Portia, Peeta's stylist exclaims.

"Outstanding." Cinna says. Effie lets out a whoops.

"Congratulations." Peeta smiles and I thank him.

"I thought they hated me." I let out a breath I didn't think I was holding.

"They must have liked your guts."

"To [Name], the protector from district 12!" Cinna pulls me into his arms.

That's the nickname I got from the Capitol and Caesar Flickman. Being a protector of my cousins. Also showing clips of me in the Training Center when I did small things for Peeta. A little excessive but if it helps me get sponsors.

"She's staring at all my jewels. She cannot take her eyes off them. Frankly it was rude." Portia was complaining about some lady, it was getting annoying listening to these people's problems while in my district we're struggling to even live. These people complain about how a color is out of place somewhere.

"Oh, Haymitch. You should join us. We're having some of your favorite dinner." Effie waves over the drunk man, I tilt my head to the side. Wondering why Effie knows that.

"Oh, lovely." Haymitch hums, joining us at the table. "Where's Peeta?" I ask.

"He's in his room. Now listen. Tomorrow's the last day. And they let us work our own tributes right before the Games so you and I will be going down at 9." He explains to me.

"What about Peeta?" I question, not understanding why we're talking without him.

"He says he wants to be trained on his own from now on." He tells me, I felt my heart sink a little bit. Separate? It was just getting easier knowing I had him by my side.

At least making it a little farther in the games. Maybe even survive off of each other. Even though at the end it would be inevitable to fight we could've let nature take its course. I don't know.

That's dumb to even think. He's probably right about making it separate. Not having us depend on each other and get too emotionally attached to die at the end.

"I don't understand... I mean I do. Only one winner in the end." I try to force out a smile.

"We should have chocolate covered strawberries." Effie switches the subject once the atmosphere gets too serious. I was a little grateful.

"Oh my, yes." Portia claps. "Please." Cinna digs in as well. I sit there silently, thinking about Peeta. I shouldn't have been so nice these past few days.

"Thank you! Thank you! Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games! Now in 5 minutes, they're all going to be out here. All of the Tributes that you've heard about. Are you excited? Let me hear it!" Caesar Flickerman announces and I look up to Cinna with wide eyes.

"Amazing." He says in a hushed voice, admiring his work. "I don't feel amazing." I hold myself.

"Don't you know how beautiful you look?" He asks with a smile.

"I mean I am sure I am because of you. But I just have this feeling that no one is going to like me, what if I mess up? Say the wrong thing?" I begin to panic, holding my chest now.

"You made me like you. You're a natural with people." He attempts to assure me but I shake my head.

"Out there I have to... try..." I slump my shoulders. I'm just glad I'm the last district because I'm not ready to go out there.

"[Name], you don't have to try as hard as you think. I'll be there the whole time. Pretend that you're talking to me, okay?" He places a hand on my shoulder. I think about it before nodding my head. "Okay."

I glanced in the mirror in front of me, I wore gold makeup, red blush that would make you think I was sunburnt.

My dress was black with gold shimmers around the neckline and then at the bottom. If I twirled it the bottom would ignite in flames. It was beautiful.

"From District 12, you know her as the Protector, and girl on fire! Well, we know her as the lovely [Name] Everdeen!" Caesar shouts and I walk across the stage, it was larger than I thought it was going to be.

I waved to the crowd, forcing a large grin on my face. Thinking about happy moments back home to make it more genuine.

"Welcome! Welcome. Well, that was quite an entrance you made the other day." He says and I nod my head.

"I know it was very electrifying. Feeling everyone's excitement about our outfits." I try not to seem like I was out of breath due to my anxiety. "And being on fire I mean, I was worried somehow due the adrenaline I wasn't feeling the burn." I chuckle as he seems to force out this laugh kind of surprising me.

"When you came out of that chariot, I have to say my heart stopped. Did  any of you experience this as well? My heart stopped." He asks the crowd who agree with him. "So did mine."

"Now, tell me about the flames. Were they real?" He switches to the next question. I look over to Cinna who nods his head.

"Yes, I'm wearing them today. Would you like to see?" I ask. "Wait, wait, wait. Is it safe?" He nervously laughs. "Of course."

"What do you think, folks?" The crowd screams in response.

"Ha ha ha, I think that's a yes!" The both of us stand up, his off to the side. I go away from the chairs and begin to twirl around, the flames coming out. I hear the crowd cheer so I start to slow down but in heels it's a little difficult. Caesar helps me balance.

"Woah, steady! Lovely, thank you. That was really something. Thank you for that." He says as we sit back down.

"I have one more question for you. It's about your cousins. You seem to have some protector energy. We were all very moved. I think, when you volunteered for her at the Reaping. Did they come say goodbye to you?" He asks, my chest tightens thinking about them. I take a breath before speaking.

"Yes, they did."

"They did, and what did you say to them in the end?" He quizzes, I look to Cinna again. I didn't want to tell him something so personal and vulnerable but with Cinna. I can so I need to focus on him.

"I told them that I would try to win. That I will give my all to come back home to them." I say .

"Of course you did. And try you will. Ladies and gentlemen, from District 12, [Name] Everdeen, The Protector!" I wave them goodbye, hurriedly but in the same slowly leaving the stage.

"You did it, darling. That was incredible." Effie pulls me towards her. "Thank you." I give a polite smile.

"Nice job, sweetheart." Haymitch tells me. "Thank you." I repeat. "Nice dress, too." He then whispers to Effie. "Not yours."

"Please welcome, Peeta Mellark! Peeta, welcome. How are you finding the Capitol? Don't say "with a map." Caesar laughs.

"It's different. Very different from back home." Peeta answers. "Different? In what way? Give us an example." The host questions, looking very interested. "Uh okay, well, the showers here are weird."

"The showers?" He's surprised by the boy's answer. "Yes."

"Do we have different showers?" Caesar asks, looking at the crowd who are shocked as well. "I have a question for you, Caesar. Do I smell like roses to you? Take a whiff." Peeta scoots closer to Caesar who's hesitant. "Um, alright?"

"Hmm... yes. Do I smell like it?" I fold my arms, feeling a little cold as I listen to this. Watching on one of the screens.

"You definitely smell better than I do." The crowd's laughs make me a little self conscious about my interview now. Feeling like I bombed it. "Well, I've lived here longer." Caesar points out. "That makes sense."

"Very funny. So, Peeta tell me. Is there a special girl back home?" He grows serious asking this question as if it was very important to him.

"No. No, not really." Peeta shakes his head. "No? I don't believe it for a second. Look at that face. Handsome man like you. Peeta... tell me." Caesar denies what he's been told, so shocked about it. I step a bit closer to the screen.

"Well, there is this one girl that I've had a crush on forever now." He says, the crowd all "awes"

"But I don't think she actually recognized me until the Reaping."

"Well, I'll tell you what, Peeta. You go out there and you win this thing, and when you get home, she'll have to go out with you." Caesar advises him.

"Thanks, but, I don't think winnings gonna help me at all." The three stylists behind me feel for him as I just stare at the screen. "Why not?"

"Because she came here with me." Peeta says and I feel like my world just got dizzy. How... How could he say that? Use that in something like this? I look back to Haymitch who has his hands up defensively.

"Well, that's bad luck." Caesar frowns. "Yeah it is." Peeta agrees. "And I wish you all the best of luck." Caesar tells him.

Peeta thanks him, he leaves the stage and I go up to him.

"What the hell, Peeta? Why lie and put me into it!?" I pin him against the wall.

"You say you want to train alone, I understand that but then you drag me into some love story that's not even real!? What if I had feelings for you as well? Huh? You put it out there during our last days! And not even to my face!" I angrily shout in his face.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Haymitch pulls me away from him. "No! I want to know!" I scream.

"He did you a favor." Haymitch tells me and I huff. "He did something stupid. I don't care if it helps. I should've known beforehand if that's the play we're using." I glare at my mentor who sighs.

"It helps that you didn't know. You could've slipped up. You seem to be very anxious even under all that pride. He made you look desirable, sweetheart." He explained to me but I just scoffed.

"He's right, [Name]." Cinna jumps into the conversation.

"Of course I'm right. Now I can sell the star crossed lovers from District 12." Haymitch smirks. "We are not star crossed lovers." I argue.

"It's a television show! And being in love with that boy might just get you sponsors, which could save your damn life. Ok. Why don't you get out of here. Maybe I can deliver you both in one piece tomorrow." Haymitch points out of here. Peeta already left with his stylist. I shake my head in disbelief.

"Manners." I hear Effie whisper as I walk away.

Masterlist

P.M. ML

Taglist: if you want to be added lmk!

[xmads-omensx]

CHAPTER 4 - NOWHERE TO GO

Word Count: 4,726

Content warnings: Swearing, angst, weapons, enemies to lovers, discussions of kidnapping, mentions of being chased, death of minor characters, blood, violence, fighting, mentions of a strip club type location and dancing (no actual stripping of clothes / lingerie), semi-nudity, being tied up / restrained (not sexually), guns

Tag List: @dominuslunae

VANIA

“Hello again, Vania. It’s time to come home.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach as I took in the sight before me. JT, the man I had been running from for years now, stood in front of me with a sickening grin plastered on his face.

I let out a gasp and tried to see if I had a way to escape. There was no way out unless I went in through the Matinez’s apartment. I turned to make a move to run, facing Iris and Jaxon Martinez, and I pushed past them into their penthouse. I heard a gun click behind me, but I didn’t have time to check. I needed to get out.

It was far too high up to jump without causing myself some serious damage, or even death, and even then, JT would still manage to capture me.

I felt hopeless. No. I was hopeless.

I had nowhere to go. I was trapped. And I would remain this way for as long as I, or JT, lived.

“What’s wrong little bunny? Can’t run anymore?” JT smirked at me as he slowly pulled a gun out of his waistband and aimed it at the Martinez’s heads and pulling the trigger, killing both of them instantly. At least they didn’t suffer. But ultimately, they would have died anyway and at least this takes their blood off of our hands.

My eyes darted around the room, looking for anything to defend myself with before Noah came up after JT. He was still coming right?

Nothing would help me. The decorative vase in the corner was too big to lift and swing at him. The tall statue in the centre of what looked like the living room was also too big. The cubes that sat on the side table were too small and wouldn’t help me, but it was worth a shot.

I lunged for them, trying to find purchase enough to swing it at his head, but he blocked my arm, causing the cube to fall to the ground and shatter into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“Nice try little bunny. You can’t escape.” He smirked before harshly grabbing a hold of my wrist and pulling me roughly towards him and in the direction of the penthouse door.

Noah never came. Was he dead? Was he working with JT? Maybe that’s why he agreed to the plan. They were working together, I just knew it. That asshole.

I swung the arm that he hadn’t grabbed and tried to engage my mantis blades, but JT was way ahead of me and gripped my other wrist. “Another cute attempt, but still not good enough. Jeez, I thought you were meant to be good at this kinds thing.” He laughed.

I tried to kick at him, but he lifted his left boot up and thrusted it into my ribs, winding me and causing my to fall to my knees. I coughed and spluttered from my position on the floor as JT just looked at me with a grin on his face. I gazed up through my eyelashes, unable to lift up my head to meet his gaze completely, as he leaned reached into his back pocket and pulled out what looked like a syringe of some kind. He leant down and pushed my head back to give him better access to my neck, then plunged the needle in.

My head began to feel light and woozy as what I assumed was some kind of anaesthetic took hold of me, forcing me into a dreamless sleep.

I awoke with blurry eyes. My arms moved to rub them, but something was restraining them. Blinking my eyes repeatedly instead, I saw that I was in a dark room. Well, at least I thought it was a room. It was a small, rectangular room with a relatively low ceiling. There wasn’t any lights beside a small bulb hanging from the ceiling.

Something was wrong about this room. The light was swinging back and forth steadily with no signs of letting up. The floor beneath me vibrated steadily as if I were on top of an engine. The room occasionally bumped and bounced, flinging me as hard as it could, despite my wrists being restrained behind my back.

This wasn’t a room. This was a van. I was being moved. But to where? They wouldn’t take me to the ERRA HQ. Not when it’s just JT who came after me. on top of that, a truck driving anywhere near the HQ would be suspicious as hell, and would definitely be asking for an attack from a rival gang to steal whatever seemingly precious cargo from inside the truck.

Was he working with Jesse and the rest of ERRA? Or had he gone rogue? No, he wouldn’t do that. Not when ERRA has so much power over him. If he went rogue, Jesse would find out and make him wish he was never born. Besides, JT didn’t exactly have the same sway and power that Jesse did when it came to running missions. Jesse never got his hands dirty, but JT did. Jesse could easily hire someone to take JT out, so he wouldn’t risk it. Or would he? If he was working with someone else he might have an escape plan.

Noah would know what to do. Why didn’t he come after me? Was he working with JT? That would make sense as to why JT came alone, and would allow for my theory of JT going solo to have some truth to it. That fucking asshole. He was so obvious in his hatred towards me. I should’ve stayed away from that son of a bitch. He made me look like a complete idiot, and I fell right into his trap. Fuck.

The truck bounced me around like I was light as air, except I couldn’t move anywhere since I was chained to the floor by the shackles that bound my wrists. Pain shot through me with every movement and jolt that shook the vehicle.

My mind raced. I couldn’t exactly escape from this. The vehicle was moving and I had no weapons on me. JT had wrapped thick material over my forearms so that I couldn’t use my Mantis blades. He really had thought of everything.

The journey felt like hours before we reached the destination. When the truck came to an abrupt stop, my heart raced. Sure, this meant I would have more answers to my questions, but it also meant that whatever hell JT had in store for me was here.

I felt hopeless.

A thought suddenly popped into my head: if the truck had stopped and we were getting out, this would be my best chance at escape.

Once the door opened, and I was taken out of the vehicle, I would have one shot to shake myself free from them and run in whatever direction had the clearest path.

However, I was rudely shocked by the rear door opening to reveal the inside of what looked like a small garage as opposed to the freedom that I had expected. The space was so dark that I couldn’t tell if it was night or day anymore. All I knew was that I was significantly more fucked than I was about thirty seconds ago.

The walls were a dark brick and both the ceiling and floor were made of concrete. A singular metal door stood on the far wall opposite the truck. Bright, vibrant lights peeked out from beneath the door and I could hear the thumping of music from the other side.

Where was I?

The first thing that popped into my mind was that I was in a club of some kind. But JT wouldn’t take me somewhere like Poppy’s or Electric Twilight. That would be far too obvious.

I couldn’t hear any wind, or other vehicles from the other side of the large metal garage door that the truck had seemingly come through.

I didn’t think I was on the surface of the Concrete Jungle anymore…

Fuck.

I was in the Underground.

Now there was definitely no way that I would be able to escape from here easily. My fate was practically sealed.

Behind me, the truck door closed and I could hear the lock click. Footsteps echoed around the room as JT came to stand in front of me. I could hear no other footsteps, which meant that it was just the two of us and proved to me that he was working alone in my capture.

He stood in front of me and started into my eyes with a sickening smirk across his features.

“Having fun little bunny?” He sneered at me.

I spat in his face.

He blinked and looked at the ground between our feet before sighing.

“You’re gonna regret that you fucking bitch.” He laughed lowly, raising back up to his full height before slapping me across the face.

I fell to the ground, my shoulder screaming in pain as I rolled on the floor, trying to protect my head from JT. He grabbed my arms and pulled me back up to my feet, shoving me roughly towards the smaller door.

“Your are going to do exactly what I tell you to do without question. You really don’t wanna make this harder for yourself little bunny, because you will pay, and you will pay with your life.” JT snarled into my ear. “Or on second thought, I’ll kill that pretty boy-toy of yours. What’s his name? Noah? But I guess he’s already dead considering how I left him in that stairwell.”

Noah was dead?

No.

He couldn’t be.

That couldn’t have happened.

Something in my chest cracked. I wasn’t sure why.

It’s all my fault. I made him go along with the plan. He would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. I should have insisted someone else go instead of him. After all, it wasn’t like I wanted to be around him more than I had to.

As much as I hated him, I didn’t want him dead because of me.

JT laughed at my shocked expression.

“Come on little bunny. Let’s have some fun.” He laughed menacingly, pushing me further towards the door.

He unlocked the shackles that bound my wrists together with the keycard in his back pocket.

I tripped over my feet a little as we made our way over.

JT knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern with a loud clank, clank, clank. After a second or so, the door creaked open to reveal a tall, thin, blonde woman with light pink skin wearing a small black bikini and a long, lace, black robe that was tied extremely loosely around her waist.

“JT. You’re late. Is this her?” She asked, turning to me with a pointed look.

“Lilith. It’s always a pleasure to see you too.” JT relied with a pointed tone. “Yeah this is her.”

“She’s short. Why do you always bring Jesse’s scraps? She won’t make us much.” She looked me up and down, assessing me.

It made my skin crawl slightly.

“She’ll do the job. She’ll dop what she’s told. Do you really need anything more from her?” JT asked with a laugh.

“Ideally, we need better. Taller. With less upgrades too. But I guess it’s fine. She’ll have to do.” Lilith rolled her eyes, turning to walk away. “Follow me you two.”

JT grabbed my bicep and pushed me forward with enough force to make me stumble for a second time. I walked through the doorway and entered what looked like a large dressing room of some kind. It was a rectangular room with five vanity mirrors with LED lights surrounding them lining the walls. Each mirror had a stool in front of it. Nine of the ten spaces were clearly occupied, with various belongings placed on the small tables in front of each mirror.

There was an opening that was covered with a deep purple curtain in the back left corner, next to it was a cubicle that I guessed was a bathroom.

The curtain pulled back and a woman entered the dressing room. She was dressed similarly to Lilith, but wore a green sparkly bikini with matching tall green heels. She had long black hair that was pin-straight, much like Lilith’s. She had grey skin, which complimented the bikini perfectly. It seemed like she only had two upgrades that I could see. Her eyes were an unnatural deep red and she had curly horns poking through her hair.

“Raven. This is the new girl.” Lilith pointed at me with a sigh.

“She’s short.” Raven said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“We’ll have to make it work.” Lilith sighed again. “JT brought her.”

“Ah so she’s ERRA scraps then?” Raven rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately for us.” Lilith snarled.

The two women towered over me in their heels. I didn’t understand why JT had brought me here. What did this have to do with ERRA? Or the mission? Was he trying to get me out of the way? But for what? Did he know about our job?

“What’s your name pinkie-pie?” Raven asked, leaning down to speak to me so she could patronise me more.

“Bunny.” JT replied for me.

Why did he lie?

“What? Can’t speak for yourself?” Lilith scoffed, making Raven laugh.

“Oh believe me she can.” JT laughed, nudging my shoulder.

I turned to glare at him. He leant into my ear and whispered, “Don’t fuck this up bitch.”

I swallowed.

“Well then Bunny. Let’s get you out of those clothes. JT, you staying or going?” Raven sighed.

“Staying. Gotta keep an eye on this one for Jesse.” JT replied with a wide smile.

“Okay then. So, Bunny, How about we take that jacket off?” Lilith walked towards me.

She extended an arm and undid the zipper before pulling the jacket off of my shoulders. Beneath, I wore a black, short bodysuit. I wore it on all of my jobs simply because it made movement easier. “So I take it black and pink are kinda your thing huh, Bunny?” Raven asked.

I nodded in reply to her question. Their outfits were kind of cute, so whatever they were about to dress me in wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I had to be careful about choosing my battles here. I was in the Underground after all, and with JT still in the room, and the complete unknown on the other side of that curtain, I couldn’t be too careful.

“We can work with that.” Lilith said with a tilt of her head. JT made himself comfortable on an armchair in the left hand corner of the room next to the door we had come through. I assumed this was his attempt at preventing any potential escapes that I tried. Fuck. I was going to have to go along with whatever he had planned.

Raven rummaged around in her large duffle bag that sat beneath her vanity space and pulled out a tiny, black lingerie set and a robe that would cover me up for the time being.

“You can change in there.” Raven said as she pointed to the cubicle in the corner, then she handed me the clothes she had just taken from her bag.

I followed her direction and changed into the lingerie set. To Raven’s credit, it was a beautiful and well-made set, clearly a more expensive one. Shockingly, it fit perfectly and hugged my curves just right. I wrapped the robe around myself and took a moment to collect my thoughts. I tried to come up with a plan of some description. I had no idea what was on the other side of that curtain, so that would be a big risk. I couldn’t go through the door we came through because JT was sat right next to it.

I only had two options and neither of them were good.

Did the rest of OMNS know?

Were they coming to get me?

A knock on the cubicle door shook me out of my thoughts. “You done? We still need to do your hair and makeup Bunny.” A female voice called. I sighed and opened the door to reveal Raven leaning against the doorframe with a bored look on her face.

“Come here.” Lilith patted the back of the chair that sat in front of the vanity I presumed belonged to her.

I sat down and both Raven and Lilith began taking out my signature pigtails. My long hair fell and cascaded down my back. Both women began brushing it and making it look as flawless as possible. Before long, my hair was pin straight.

Lilith then picked up her makeup bag and began applying eyeliner and lipgloss to my face. “We won’t go too heavy because it’s your first time. The clients will want to see your face.” Raven said, as if it cleared anything up.

I shot JT a confused glance.

“JT, are you fucking kidding me!” Lilith yelled. “She doesn’t know what’s happening!”

“You sick fuck! You can’t just make the girl do something like this without telling her!” Raven backed her up.

“Calm down you two.” JT chuckled. “She knows exactly what this is, she’s just getting cold feet. Tell you what, you two mind giving us a minute so I can calm her down?”

Lilith and Raven shared a hesitant glance before stepping through the curtain, giving me a glimpse of what looked like a stage, with a crowd in front of it.

“Listen Vania, either you go out on that stage in that skimpy little outfit, and you do that skimpy little dance that you used to do before I scooped up your sorry ass, or… you tell me about V.A.N.? Sound good?” JT snarled. “And I mean the truth about V.A.N., not that made up bullshit you have been telling people.”

I thought about his threat for a second. There was no way he knew about V.A.N. That would be impossible. If he knew anything, it would be tiny pieces of information, that probably wasn’t even true.

“We both know I won’t tell you jack shit about that.” I snarled back at him.

“Then get your ass on stage Vania.” I turned to walk away from him when he grabbed my arm. “Or, do you want to know what really happened to Davis and the others? His sandevistan didn’t go rogue you know?”

By blood ran cold.

“W-w-w-what?” I spluttered. “No. You’re wrong. The Sandy backfired and that’s what happened.”

JT shook his head. “If you tell me about V.A.N., I’ll tell you about your precious Davis and what really happened. Deal?”

I couldn’t tell JT about V.A.N., but I had to know what he was talking about.

If JT knew about V.A.N., he would tell Jesse, and that information really couldn’t be in ERRA’s hands. That would literally be the worst case scenario.

“If I tell you… what will you do with the information?” I asked, a twinge of hope snagging my heart.

“Doesn’t matter.” JT shrugged.

“No, it does. ERRA can’t know this.” I pleaded.

“Why?” He smirked.

“Because you’ll use the information and take over the Concrete Jungle.” I huffed, frustrated.

“Is that so?” JT sneered. “Guess you’ll never know who killed Davis and the others.” He sighed with mock sympathy.

I took a beat to think my options over. I was stuck. I needed to know what happened to my crew.

“No one killed Davis, he went cyberpsycho and killed the others.” I practically yelled.

JT laughed. “That’s what they told you, huh? OMNS really are fucked up aren’t they?”

“OMNS?” I asked, confused. “What do OMNS have to do with this?”

“Oh?” JT said with mock surprise, “You didn’t know?”

“Know what, JT!” I shouted.

“That OMNS are the reason your old crew died. Well, Noah more specifically.” JT deadpanned.

My body stiffened. My blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked in a quiet voice.

JT leaned forward.

“OMNS hacked Davis’s sandevistan and made him go cyberphsycho and kill your crew. It was Noah’s plan, the rest just carried it out.”

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as JT’s information settled in the silent room. About a minute or so had passed and I was still stood in silence, suddenly aware that I was half-naked in the Underground.

“So you see, Vania, I’ve told you what you wanted, now you have to give me what I want.” JT reached around his back and pulled out a pistol. Why didn’t he use it earlier? Maybe it was in the truck.

Now, I had no choice. I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t want to tell him.

“No. You said I had to dance out there if I didn’t tell you, not that I would die.” I pleaded meekly.

“Well, plans change little bunny. Now you tell me, or I shoot you. Simple as.” JT explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I really didn’t want to die.

I had to get justice for Davis, Steven and Alana. OMNS had to pay for what they took from me. I had to take something from them. I had to see this through.

“Fine. But you have to promise me you won’t abuse what I’m about to tell you. Use this information wisely.” I said pointedly.

JT raised his hands in a gesture that mimicked one of surrender. “Okay. Okay. Now tell me.” he pointed the gun back at me.

I flinched and reconsidered my options for a moment a second time. I didn’t have a choice.

“V.A.N. was an experimentation project run by some mad scientist who wanted to get as much undetected upgrades into one person without them going full cyberpsycho.” I explained.

“I know that’s not all of it, Vania.” JT taunted, moving the gun closer to me.

He could see right through me.

“Dr. Michael Taylor was a strange man. He was never happy with just the regular upgrades. He wanted something new. Always something new. He wanted to create it himself. A new way to get upgrades. He had this bright idea to create a human weapon. Someone who had more or less their whole body upgraded, whilst keeping the upgrades undetected.” I took a breath.

“He recruited low-life runners who had nothing to lose to his cause to ‘help’ him with his work. He worked in the Underground, fitting as many upgrades as he could into innocent people.” I continued.

JT scoffed. “Innocent?”

“What like you’re any better!” I yelled.

“Finish your damn story.” JT shouted back.

“Fine.” I sighed. “After a while, some rich dude found out about Dr. Taylor’s experiments and moved him up into one of the skyscrapers off of Coyote Park. The purple one. Gave him a lab and everything. Only problem was that none of the experiments worked. Every single one went full psycho.”

“You didn’t.” He stated.

“Evidently.” I sneered. “I was his last project. He offered me money. A lot of it. And as you said, dancing wasn’t really making me enough to live off, and the odd jobs here and there didn’t bring enough in. I didn’t have anything to lose.”

I took another breath.

“I don’t know what was different about me. But something changed. He started making people into weapons, instead of just cramming upgrades into the disadvantaged. He had a goal. To make a weapon powerful enough to take on any enemy, with maximum effect. Hence the name. Violence Against Nature. He made people into weapons. And that was that.” I finished.

“Then that leaves you. A loose end. How come you’re here? Working for OMNS, and not Dr. Taylor?” JT asked.

“I don’t know.” I lied. I knew exactly why.

“Yes you do.” Fuck.

“Dr. Taylor died. There you go. End of story.” I turned to walk towards the curtain Lilith and Raven had gone through.

“Rumour has it that someone with mantis blades killed him. Ring any bells?” JT taunted.

“Nope.” I bluntly replied, untying the robe.

“You killed him didn’t you, Vania?” I froze. “But you wouldn’t leave without evidence. You aren’t dumb. I think you took his records from his experiments. Records that prove that you are a military weapon, and are therefore illegal. That’s why you’re pushing out jobs left, right and centre. Your fixer is blackmailing you isn’t he?”

“So what if that’s true? What does it matter to you? Not like you can get your filthy hands on any proof.” I scoffed. I tried to muster every ounce of cockiness in my body to try and deter him from the fact that he knew everything, except the details of what Dr. Taylor had been doing. And I just gave it to him.

“I wonder what would happen if word got out about your little ,secret?” He taunted, standing back up.

He placed his hand on my back and began pushing me towards the curtain.

“Get dancing little Bunny.” He smirked in my ear.

I tried once again to muster false confidence as I walked out onto the stage. Before me was a large bar. It was busy. Men and women clambered over eachother to be near the stage. The booths and the stools around the bar were busy. I couldn’t make out any familiar faces, but I would recognise this bar anywhere. It had been revamped since I worked here all those years ago. The Drain. The only bar in the Underground.

I began to sway my hips slowly to the rhythm of the music playing. The crowd cheered. I’ll admit, I was once a fan of those cheers. They made me feel good about myself. Like they were looking at me because I was talented, not because I was a pretty girl in a skimpy lingerie set.

I felt vulnerable, but it was a vulnerability I had come accustomed to.

I looked up into the crowd, feeling someone’s eyes glaring holes into me. Noah. He stared at me with a look of relief mixed with anger. Why the fuck was he here. He took a step towards me. holy shit. He was coming to rescue me. I nodded my head as subtly as I could to indicate to Noah that JT was watching me, and had no plans on stopping.

Noah looked increasingly enraged as he looked around the large space for any options. We were stuck.

He walked forwards, towards the railing in front of the stage. What was he doing? He was going to give himself away.

A painful twenty minutes passed with Noah just watching me. This felt like torture. I saw his mouth move slightly. He was mouthing words at me. Jump. Was he crazy? I shook my head no. Trust me, jump. I’ve got you. He mouthed at me again. I glanced back at JT. It was now or never. I took my chance and launched myself over the railings.

He gripped my forearm and began to run to the door.

“Noah!” A deep voice called out. Jolyl was here too. Were they all here?

Noah pushed me forward as JT and the security guard began shooting at us. He returned fire.

“Noah come on!” I shouted. Trying to get him to escape with us.

“Go!” He yelled. “I’m right behind you! Go!”

Jolly grabbed my arm and pulled me after him. As we ran, I could hear gunshots echoing throughout the Underground. Most of the people around us ignored the situation and moved out of the way of the fighting.

“You okay?” Jolly asked once we reached a more secluded area. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to me. It practically drowned me.

“Yeah I’m good.” I replied, slightly out of breath.

We waited for Noah once we were where I presumed the pre-arranged rendezvous point was. It took a while for him to join us, but he probably had to shake off any other unfriendlies.

When he did arrive, he was covered in blood splatters and was gasping for breath. He seemed angry.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Like you care. Let’s fucking go.” Noah growled, cutting me an angry glare.

Oh. I guess JT was right. Noah really was a heartless bastard.

Chapter 5 - COMING SOON Anything > Human Masterlist Main Masterlist

[miscreantahead]

Zoro/Sanji Post Thriller Bark

I've been thinking about Thriller Bark AGAIN so much lately and about how I've never really written anything for them post-thriller bark. So I wrote this little thing, which doesn't feel like enough for my AO3 so I'm just putting it here. Rated M. Tags for uhhh... nonchalant discussion of death? If I were to post this and give it a title, it would be World's Most Sword-Swinging Shithead

----

“Hey, what the hell are you doing here, shouldn’t you be lying down still?” Sanji’s spoke in a slow drawl and lazily waved the spatula at him.

“I’ve been lying down for days,” Zoro dragged his feet walking in.

“Yeah, and you were even more almost-dead than you were at Baratie, so bad dog, go lay down,” he pointed the spatula into the corner for some reason.

“Not tired,” Zoro mumbled, still moving toward him.

“I didn’t say sleep, I said lay down, at least until Chopper clears you to move around,” now he was waving it toward the sky, and with his other elbow raised with his hand on the skillet handle, it gave Zoro the perfect opening to hug him around his middle from behind.

“Wh-wha?” Sanji flailed and struggled for just a second before Zoro let him go.

“Why’d you do that?” Sanji was now holding the spatula with both hands and pointing it in his direction like it was a longsword.

“Because I was almost dead,” Zoro said. and he made a point not to step that far away. In fact, he was close enough that Sanji was able to hold the spatula just under the jut of his chin.

“You’re saying you suffered brain damage, then?” Sanji asked, and his face turned comically sympathetic, “you poor, poor thing…” he caressed Zoro’s cheek with the spatula in a degrading manner.

“Cook,” Zoro growled, grabbing the spatula and shoving it away, “let’s not fuck around right now,” he didn’t intend for his words to come out the way they did. He heard himself, low, hoarse, maybe a little needy, and he saw the expression on the cook’s face change like he’d heard all of that too.

“I want to be with you,” Zoro had no choice but to carry it home, “even just once.”

Sanji’s expression had gone from silly to surprised and now to serious with his brow furrowed, eyes darting around Zoro’s face like he was trying to read some secret hidden within it. It was like he was worried that if he said anything in line with what Zoro was getting at it would be some kind of “gotcha!” He was still reading this like some kind of competition, like some game he was at risk of losing. Zoro wasn’t in the mood for it.

“I almost died,” Zoro’s voice cracked.

“I know that better than anyone, jackass,” Sanji responded through clenched teeth, apparently out of jokes.

“So?” Zoro said, moving closer so their foreheads bumped. “Don’t you want…?” he trailed off, closing his eyes and feeling Sanji ever so slightly press back against him. It was there in a thousand secret looks and just-a-little-longer-than-necessary touches. Something was happening between them, since Skypeia at least, and Zoro was sure it wasn’t one-sided. He was also sure that the damn cook’s mind was a conundrum he might never be able to solve, so he didn’t have a clue if this approach would work.

Sanji still hadn’t responded, but when Zoro opened his eyes his were shut, like he too was just quietly feeling it, their closeness. Zoro wondered how long it would take him to actually verbalize his position, but decided that perhaps he didn’t need to. If he didn’t want to say it, then Zoro could help him around that.

His lips were already only inches away, all Zoro had to do was tilt the orientation of his own head so their mouths touched instead of their foreheads. He started to move, slowly, until he was close enough to feel Sanji take a deep breath inward. When their lips met, it was the slightest ghost of a touch, but Zoro felt an urge to lift his hand and place it flat against the left side of the cook's chest.

His heart was pounding, so fast and loud and Zoro didn’t realize until he could feel it, that he could also hear it.

“Cook,” Zoro voice was weak against his lips.

The response he got was arms around his neck and a searing kiss as the cook surged into the kiss and tugged Zoro close to him. Their hips bumped and Zoro felt the hardness against his thigh for just a moment but he chased that feeling, crowding the cook back against the counter and pinning his narrow waist under the press of his abs and rolling his hips up so Sanji could feel that he was in a similar, or possibly more severe state.

The kiss broke then, Sanji broke it, but didn’t otherwise move, he just looked into Zoro’s eyes with surprise on his face. His expression looked foggy, but like there may have been something akin to reservation far beneath a cloud of desire in his glossed over-eyes and kiss-swollen lips that hung open to accommodate little puffs of breath.

Then a new emotion swept over that face, one Zoro was intimately familiar with: rage.

“Do you remember what you did, you son of a bitch?” Sanji hissed, arms unwinding from around Zoro’s neck, fingers instead viciously curling into and pulling the collar of his shirt instead.

“You knocked me out, threw me aside, left me there without a word while you went off to die,” he spat, literally spat, Zoro could feel the wet drops hitting his face, “and then when I woke up I had to be the one to try and find you because no one else knew why you weren’t there. I went looking and the whole time, every corner I turned I thought I’d see your bloody, mutilated, crumpled corpse somewhere dead—,”

Zoro placed a hand gently on the side of his face and it stopped his ranting.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Zoro said, earning a hardened glare, “but I’m still alive, somehow. And I do have a choice about what to do next, that’s why I’m here.”

“So, what, you realized you forgot to cross fucking me off your bucket list so—,”

“Cook,” Zoro interrupted, calm, because he didn’t want to be like this. Not right now, just this once, he needed it to be different.

“I know,” Sanji croaked, “but I don’t want to have to rush this, okay? Whatever it is, I don’t want to force it, I want to feel like we have all the time in the world. I want—,” he stopped, and looked Zoro in the eye, expression serious but no longer with anger, “—I need more time,” he said.

Zoro’s heart twisted in his chest.

“So just don’t fucking die, okay? Don’t you have to become the world’s most sword-swinging shithead?” He snapped again, “…fucking idiot…” he grumbled, and then Zoro watched him start to unravel, remained still as he collapsed enough for his head to fall and rest against Zoro’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Sanji whispered against him.

“For what?”

“Saving Luffy, and all of us, and…” he muffled the next word by pressing his mouth against Zoro’s skin but Zoro heard it, “…and me.”

Zoro kissed his hair, then released a heavy sigh into it so the strands on top of his head fluttered around.

“So, about my bucket list…” Zoro mumbled.

“No,” Sanji drew back, and looked him in the eye again, “not right now for a million reasons, starting with because I’m literally in the middle of breakfast,” he gestured toward the simmering happening on the stove, “because I can’t look at you right now without being pissed that you tried to leave, and because I’m going to need to be more than a line on a bucket list, jackass, but if that’s what I am then I’ll stay uncrossed just to keep you alive.”

“More?” Zoro latched onto just one word and pressed for explanation, and Sanji’s eyes widened.

“Ah, well…” he wiggled free of any of Zoro’s extremities and turned around to face the stove again, removing the lid and starting to stir.

Zoro released the breath he’d been holding and a relaxed smile crept over his face as he slowly wrapped his arms around the cook from behind again.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, and squeezed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji muttered, “now go back to bed.”

fin More of my bullshit at https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchratt

[raspberryjars]

Can you do a Designer! Miles and Model! Hobie?

little snippet so far!! (u can except more to be posted either this weekend or next week x)

Lights flashed from all corners of the room as he put one foot in front of the other, steadily making his way down the catwalk. He could feel the loose, chainmail-esk vest bush against his skin as he moved his arms slightly, leaving a pattern of goosebumps in their wake. The large clunky boots he’d been handed were cool as well, big and powerful, maybe something he'd wear in his day-to-day, if they weren’t ridiculously expensive.

Whoever the designer was for this collection though, they were definitely cool. Lots of street wear, baggy jeans, large jackets, trainers and that, but also more punk elements to things, for example his chainmail vest. And he’d seen a girl ahead of him with liberty spikes. One of the other guys too, he’d had loads of patches all over his pants. He liked to imagine the designer as someone chill, maybe tall, definitely a similar music taste to himself. Maybe they’d be pretty similar over all. Seemed like it by the look of the garments and styling.

He turned on his heel and strode back up towards the entrance/exit for models. Not turning off his walk until he was definitely out of sight of any crowds.

As soon as he knew he was safe from any guests, he stopped where he stood and slouched his shoulders, taking a deep breath in through the nose as he slowly made his way to where the others should be sitting around. It was probably his favourite part, the moments right after the runway. When everyone was pretty tired, but still riding that high. It was always fun to hear about what mishaps had taken place too.

So when Hobie pushed through the plastic swinging door and saw his sort of co-workers sitting around on different chairs and tables he didn’t think much of it. He just scanned the room for a spare seat before sitting himself down next to Gayatri. He quickly scanned her outfit, tall knee length boots, a short chequered skirt, a tight black, sort of mesh-y top and a big puffer jacket. Lots of chains, charms and belts had been slung round her neck or tied round her waist, looking messily organised. Her hair had been slicked back and her eyes had been outlined in kohl, making her eyes look a lot more imposing than usual.

“Sick look.” He smiled. He meant it too, he did really like a lot of the designs.

“Thanks Hobie, I could say the same to you.” She smiled slightly, eyes skimming what he was wearing.

“Well, I can’t take credit.” He laughed, casting his eyes around the room. Two more models had come in, one of which was staring quite obviously in their direction.

“Hey, look, you’ve got an admirer.” Hobie whispered, a slight laugh in his voice.

“Oh calm down, like you don’t?” Gayatri smirked back, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head in the direction of the door.

Hobie turned his head to see someone standing in the doorway, someone with an oversized collared red shirt, and some baggy black fatigues. He was looking around with a certain look on his face, one Hobie couldn’t place. And no offence to the guy, but he didn’t exactly look like a model, he just looked slightly plain compared to the room full of accessorised models in chunky platforms. Plus the guy was absolutely not tall enough for a runway, again, no offence.

But he did look cool, he had some silver studs and a thin silver ring in his nose, plus his choice of smart business wear looked pretty casual which he had to respect. And he looked like he loved the collection. It was just confusing thinking about why he was actually back here. He didn’t have a pass around his neck or anything, and he definitely wasn’t tech, too dressed up.

Maybe a friend of someone’s? Who knew honestly, not him, and to be honest, he wasn’t too bothered. The guy looked happy enough. And Hobie had never minded a few stares, what was one more pair of eyes? Beautiful, big, brown eyes, but still. Not anything too unusual.

The last few models slipped in through the doors and suddenly the guy from the doorway wasn’t standing there, and just as Hobie was scanning the room for him, he was making his way down the hallway.

[sleepynegress]

On Challengers...

Okay.

So, here's the thing. It's decent.

It's sassy, catfighty, but with dudes using rackets and tongue-wrestling, and the tennis scenes are tense, but... it wasn't at all confidently scandalous like I would've expected.

....Like I feel like they didn't push it far enough, somehow? And not even in the way you might think, with dicks a-swingin and thrusts abundant. Remember, the movie Closer? -I think that came out in 2007ish and was rated PG-13??? Or could have been if not for the language.

Natalie Portman has a similar nudity clause to her contract and *STILL* had the absolute sexiest scene with Clive Owen.... .....Which I'll put in this post to demonstrate what I mean. This felt like it held back at moments... When it came to pushing desire, between the men and/or with Zendaya, with one or the other. It just felt so tame to me given the hype. I was hoping for a return to artistic sensuality in film again, instead of this weird sort of by-rote-feeling purity culture we're having rn. (I'm watching Love Lies Bleeding tonight and I BET that delivers. Lesbians, salude!) I was hoping for Cruel Intentions' lush cut with The Dreamers' sensuality..if that makes sense?? AND some good-good tennis. THAT did deliver. WOW, some of the shots for that were eye-popping. A critic I follow noted that her issue (she always has the best takes I don't agree with all of them but they are always well-articulated) was that Zendaya was not fleshed out as a central figure, especially as a BLACK WOMAN. It was yet again another case of a Black woman dropped down from the moon coming from no people of her own, but just somehow existing in a sea of white people with not a hint of Black friends or loved ones.

Hell, they could've even laid out *her people* like the brilliantly underrated Beyond The Lights with Minnie Driver playing the stage manager mom to Gugu Mbatha Raw's biracial pop star. But that comes down to the white male gaze fucking it up, yet again. I looked up the screenwriter and just kind of nodded knowingly with an 'oh, yeah that's what I expected, that explains it...' He simply didn't have the range beyond a sort of vague tennis fetish for brown girls in short skirts grunting and swinging and wanting to do something with that. He admitted that Naomi and another Black woman player's interaction on the court *inspired* this...

Perception of Black women doing ANYTHING can be so heavy with a weirdly asexual gaze from white women and hyper-sexualized by white men. And if desire/centering tips in the "wrong" direction deemed by prejudice and our assumed place....*yeesh* we catch hell. You're either bafflingly too ugly to be treated with desire (whew the incel bigots are big mad that it's Zendaya and not a Sweeney-type) or only deemed good enough for it, because of that white gaze. And resented regardless.

*sigh* Can't win for losing. But I digress. Zendaya's co-stars are the oddest looking mystical-dwarf-head ass forest creature white boys with big ears, but they GAVE in the acting department. Mike Faist is a STAR. He has a sort of laidback sweetly confident rizz. But he definitely is the lovechild of a young Scott Glenn and DJ Qualls. I want to put him in a western immediately because he has Civil War photo face.

Mike O'Connor has that desperate dirty hairy scruffy thing like dude from The Bear. Like you KNOW he has a scratch tat somewhere and would do the dirty with his partner in the toilet stalls or anywhere else. Hollyweird is strange about beauty standards man. Back in the day, they used to pretend old white men, who looked like they smelled like Barbasol mixed w/ urine would somehow be sexy to a twentysomething. Now, we have this dichotomy of thankfully a little more of a diverse gaze for the centered "bombshell" other than blonde with large breasts number 32637263872.... but we also have some actresses cutting fat out their cheeks and being Ozempic thin. *sigh* ...While the "basic" hot boys are punching the air rn because they are also passé. Got to have something interesting going on in the face for everyone now, I think. Can't just be AI "pretty" anymore. Thankfully.

....Anyway. It is good, but with those caveats I laid out.

P.S. ICONIC for me is seeing Zendaya's Black-ass nose bridge drawn large on that poster. P.P.S Thank LUCA for doing the queer elements well... I personally don't think it went far enough, tho...

Mike bottoming for all, including getting pegged by Zendaya would've happened in my version of this... at least implied, come on (ficwriters?) Oh! and here are the clips from Closer, but then it was a successful play first, so the script is more substantial in that.

This is how filthy I expected Challengers to be, and it's just. not. Nothing in The Challengers touches the heavy heady nastiness in this scene IMO, but something in that movie should have, dammit! Note they never even touch each other.