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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Kiss of Death

Warnings: nonconsent (fingering and intercourse)

This is dark!(mob)Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You (literally) run into a powerful man but find it hard to shake him.

Note: So we’re taking a tiny break from Painted Windows. The last chapter was intense and even my heart needs some respite. So I let myself wonder down the backstreets and wrote some mob!Loki with a good chance of a sequel.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

After a long day and a longer week, you were looking forward to the small get together. Several nights in a row you came home late and gulped down a microwave dinner before passing out on the couch. An unglamorous life, to say the least.

For Nisha’s birthday, you agreed to meet up at a nice restaurant downtown for drinks and hopefully dinner. Tiana and Ana were already there with Nisha as you rushed in. You weren’t used to being the last to arrive. Usually you were the first there and waiting for at least twenty minutes.

You gave a frantic greeting to the small group and dropped your purse in your empty chair.

“I’m so sorry. Nisha, happy birthday but I’m gonna burst,” You said as you caught your breath.

They laughed at your panic and waved you towards the restrooms. You snaked around tables and to the narrow hall that led to the facilities. You were quick to sweep inside and into a stall. Your pants were barely past your thighs before you sat; the stream was painful and squeezed your bladder terribly. You sighed and took a moment to gather yourself as soft classical music plucked from the speakers.

Finished, you washed your hands and stared at yourself in the mirror. Your jacket hung open over your flowery blouse and pressed slacks. You wore a pair of low wedges that gave you a few inches. You were exhausted and you looked it. A night of drinking would surely wake you up… or at least lull you into the sleep you’d been lacking.

You smoothed out your shirt and slipped out of the jacket. You slung it over your arm and tried to fix your hair as best as you could. Your latest client was demanding and worse, a perfectionist. Usually, your suggestions were accepted without a single glance but Stacey Forrest was very particular. She needed to impress her new circle of peers; many twenty years her senior. Just thinking of her stabbed your temples with frustration.

You shook off the moment of chagrin and took a breath. Work was done. You had Saturday to sleep off the hangover you planned on feeding tonight. Sunday was far away at the present.

You pushed open the door and strolled back to the dining room. You spotted the table of women awaiting you, giggling as they sipped from their respective glasses, and set off to join them. In your tunnel vision, you didn’t notice the party to your right. The man whom you walked directly into and barely kept you from tripping over his leather shoes. You were so embarrassed, you hardly realized how the entire room had gone silent.

You backed up and slipped free of the man’s grasp. You looked up at him and caught your coat before it could fall to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” You said as your cheeks burned. “I wasn’t…” You glanced around. “Paying attention…”

“It’s quite alright,” The lilt in his voice surprised you as much as the glimmer in his green eyes. “These things happen.”

“Yeah, I… Sorry again.” You sidestepped between some tables. “Um, okay.”

You spun away awkwardly as you tried to ignore your audience. Even Nisha, Tiana, and Ana had turned to watch the debacle. Well, the night was never complete without you making a fool of yourself. You hung your coat over the back of your chair and moved your purse as you sat. The room was still in a hush.

“Smooth,” Tiana raised her brows.

“Shut up,” You grumbled.

“Only you.” Nisha chided.

You peeked around at those who whispered around you and followed their own attention to the man you’d nearly tackled. He was with a group of several men and was shown to a booth near the back of the restaurant. You turned back and shook your head.

“I need a drink.” You declared.

“I’d say you do,” Tiana shook her head. “And a knock in the head.”

“You do know who’s foot you just stomped, right?” Ana asked.

“When do I ever know what is going on?” You said dryly. “So we doing just drinks or dinner?”

“She doesn’t even care,” Tiana gasped. “We should leave before she gets in anymore trouble.”

“Oh my god, what is the big deal?” You demanded.

“Take another look at that man,” Ana intoned.

You huffed and turned in your chair. You looked at the man as the server listened intently to him and you felt as if he was familiar but you couldn’t place him. He smiled at the waiter and then his eyes met yours. You blinked and spun back so quickly your chair wobbled. You shrugged as you steadied yourself.

“His name, which I’m sure will shake something loose, is Loki Laufeyson.” Tiana scoffed. “You might have heard that somewhere through that haze you call sentience.”

Your eyes rounded. A waitress appeared and asked for an order. You opted for gin on ice and rubbed your forehead.

“Shit.” You swore. “Well, I mean, it was just an accident. Not like I pulled a gun on him.”

“You scuffed his shoe,” Ana mused. “I’ve heard stories of him taking offence at less.”

“Don’t,” You warned. “I already have enough on my plate without worrying about…” You lowered your voice. “...the mob.”

“Oh, we’re teasing you,” Tiana insisted. “So how is Mrs. Forrest.”

“Nee Marris,” Ana added.

“Oh, you know, the same girl she was in uni,” You grinned. “Only this time she’s married her sugar daddy.”

“And she hired you to style her new house?” Nisha asked.

“Manse,” You corrected her. “As she prefers.”

“Definitely hasn’t changed,” Tiana smirked.

You all laughed as the waitress set your drink in front of you and you thanked her. You continued to gab over your menus and eventually ordered. You forgot about the bumpy beginning and were soon lost in the cheer. You had longed for a night out. A rare occasion when you reverted to the college girl procrastinating on her studying.

When your dinner came, so did another round of drinks. You paused and stopped the waitress before she could flit away.

“Sorry, but we didn’t order another round,” You wondered.

“Compliments of Mr. Laufeyson,” She said quietly.

You froze and the other women looked at you curiously. You raised a brow and tried to subtly look over your shoulder. You didn’t turn all the way as you sensed another’s gaze on you.

“You can thank him but we can pay for them,” You insisted. “Really…”

The waitress blanched and your friends tittered.

“Oh, what’s the harm,” Nisha chimed. “Better than him sending something else.”

“Loosen up,” Tiana took a large gulp. “The free drink should help with that.

You sighed and Anna added to the plea with a grin. You rubbed your chin and relented. “You can thank Mr. Laufeyson.”

She exhaled in relief and agreed to do so. You grabbed your glass reluctantly and sneered at the girls before you forced your finest smile. You turned and found the man in question watching you. You raised your glass at him as a gratitude and quickly righted yourself in your chair.

“Oh,” Ana preened. “You think he’d pay for the whole meal? Give him a wink or something.”

“An,” You warned. “Really. That’s not the type of man you want to owe favours.”

“Really?” Tiana challenged. “Twenty minutes ago you barely recognized him.”

“Maybe not but I’d heard of him and his… supposed deeds.” You said. “You aren’t really encouraging this, are you?”

“He must like the whole clueless vibe you’ve got going for you,” Tiana trilled. “Rather endearing even if it does leave your toes a bit tender.”

“Hush,” You hissed. “Really. Let’s eat and then we shall relocate so that I do not entangle myself further with thugs.”

They laughed and you flaked away a piece of salmon with your fork. You shook your head. You had the sense of being watched and didn’t need to look to know why. It sent a frightful tickle along your spine. You were always quite skilled at walking, or rather, tripping head first into trouble.

🐍

That night was just another fleeting thrill in a series of missteps that never quite came to fruition. You didn’t need to worry about the mobster or your little stumble. Sometimes a kind gesture was just that and a coincidence was nothing more. No serendipity, no fate, just another anecdote about how your clumsiness had nearly gotten you in trouble.

You finished your dinner and found your way to a pub just down the way. The music was a little young for your tastes but the cocktails were on special and it wasn’t too rowdy. It was like Sex and the City but duller; and likely sadder. You shared stories of failed dates, workplaces peeves, and the latest drama witnessed on the tube. Provoking stuff.

Nisha crashed at yours. You woke on the couch, the birthday girl was offered the bed. You drank coffee with the curtains drawn but she didn’t wake up until noon. When she did, she finished the pot and dressed in her wrinkled clothing. You saw her off to the station and stopped by the shop for some orange juice and paracetamol.

You spent the rest of the day in the dark with Netflix in the background. You dreaded another day of Stacey’s obstinacy. What kind of person needed more than a dozen bedrooms in one house? Oh, and she did mention their summer house in the south? Well, if you couldn’t start appeasing her Cher Horowitz tastes, she might not need you for that.

The only thing you could do to prepare was set your alarm and sleep off your hangover. When you woke, the ice pick had dislodged from your skull and the fog outside helped mute the harshness of the sun. You dressed, had your coffee, a small breakfast, and readied to face off with Stacey.

The drive was an hour out of the city. Your small car puttered along but never failed to get you where you needed. You sang along to Petula Clark on the scratchy radio station as you yawned over the steering wheel. The old house rose before you; a hideous mishmash of an old Tudor cottage and a modern geometric renovation.

You drove up the winding drive and around the back. Classified as a member of the help, you weren’t permitted to park with the Bentley and the Rolls. You didn’t recognize the Aston Martin but you assumed it was another of Mr. Forrest’s associates. You climbed out, locked your car, and dropped your keys in your pocket.

There was a backdoor, formerly the entrance to the servants’ quarters, and you ducked through the arched doorway. The old corridor had recently been remodelled with a couple guestrooms, a modified laundry room, and a wine cellar. Paintings left by the former owners had been reframed and hung. Stacey couldn’t decide if she wanted to be old aristocracy or the new age elite.

You found Stacey in the kitchen. Her assistant, Deanna, was making her a green smoothie. She greeted you with a smile and flicked her finger across her tablet.

“Just in time,” She beckoned you over as Deanna set the glass down beside her. “I was thinking this lamp would be perfect for the master.”

You looked at the image. The clear glass body of the lamp was filled with large round sequins; a fishtank of tackiness with a feather shade. You had to hide your distaste.

“It could work,” You allowed, “But we would have to revert a few other choices.”

“Revert?” Her voice went deep and she sipped noisily through her straw.

“The curtains. You want sheen or lace. Not both.”

“Hmm,” She pressed her lips together. “I suppose. We could still have the curtains, they would be cute in the loo.”

“Cute,” You repeated as you resisted a laugh. “Well, as long as we keep to that theme in there.”

“I was talking to Paul,” She batted her lashes as she always did when she spoke of her husband; you suspected she held more affection for his last name and wallet than his person. “He did mentioned he wouldn’t mind a hint of snakeskin in his office. He doesn’t want anything too stuffy or old.”

“Oh yes, he is one for the… younger tastes,” You intoned. “We could probably work it in subtly. We don’t want it to be overbearing.”

“I suppose…” She rolled her eyes and took another long drink. “Well, I’ve tracked down those lamps in the city. I say we go and have a look around the boutique while we pick them up. Perhaps we can muster some inspiration, maybe even some imagination.”

You smiled and accepted the rebuke in stride. “At your leisure, Mrs. Forrest.”

“Stacey,” She corrected. “You know that makes me feel old.”

“Stacey,” You repeated and leaned on the counter.

“I’ll just finish this and then I’ll have Stuart drive us into the city.”

“I have a car,” You offered.

“And so do I. It’s much nicer,” She insisted. “And we will discuss ideas on the w--”

She turned completely in the tall chair and stood. “Paul,” She greeted her husband in a sing song.

You watched her and angled yourself to keep your eye on her. Paul’s silver hair was thinning and still wore hints of the black dye he’d used to reclaim his youth upon his wedding day. His wrinkles deepened as he grinned and welcomed her against him. She wore stilettos and a skirt so tight it looked painful.

Your amusement dwindled as another figure appeared behind him. You recognised the man immediately. It hadn’t been two days since your first and last encounter. As you remembered him, you were sure he remembered you. You were convinced of it as his green eyes sparkled and he smirked in your direction.

“Sweetheart, I thought you’d be off already,” Paul’s arm held Stacey around her waist. “I was just discussing our renovations with Mr. Laufeyson on his way out and was about to show him the east wing.”

“We were just on our way,” She announced. “We’ve some items to pick up for the master and soon enough we’ll move onto the rest of guest rooms.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Paul turned back to his visitor, his arm still around his young wife, “Pardon my negligence, this is Stacey’s designer.” He introduced you kindly. He might have been an easy dupe but he was nice enough. “They go back a ways. To university I believe.”

“Oh yes, I was in fashion and she was in interior, and so we ran into each other a couple times a year,” Stacey explained. “She always did have a good eye.”

“Ah,” Laufeyson neared and held out his hand cordially. You eyed it and the scene of you crashing into him replayed in your head. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You shook his hand awkwardly and prayed Stacey would not stay too long to boast.

“Actually,” He let go slowly, “If you’re not too tied up at the moment, I have a place not far from here that needs a breath of fresh air. You see, it was my father’s and it still bears much of his tastes. Not very akin to my own but I am terribly obtuse at these things.”

“Hmm, well,” You swallowed and looked to Stacey, “My roster is rather full at the moment. How many rooms did you say there were in this place, Mrs. Forrest?”

“Oh, but she is not that burdened, Mr. Laufeyson.” Stacey insisted. “We have sorted plans for most of the rooms. You might take her on the odd days, if you wish?”

Your nostrils flared. She acted as if she owned you. As if you were to be lent out like one of her designer dresses.

“I do have a waiting list--”

“We are old friends,” She interjected, “As a favour from me, Mr. Laufeyson, as a thank you for your wonderful wedding gift, you might have a consultation upon us. Right, Paul?”

“Oh, yes,” He seemed to have awoken from a trance at the mention of his name. “That old place your father kept, it could use a good dusting.”

You glared at Stacey. If she wasn’t paying twice your hourly rate, you might have walked out. You quickly wiped away your chagrin as the attention turned back to you.

“Well, I suppose if Mrs. Forrest can spare me…”

“Tomorrow,” Stacey affirmed. “Leave the address with Paul and she’ll meet with you in the morning. I can survive the day without her. The contractors will be back for the west wing.”

🐍

The next morning, you left early to make sure you arrived on time, all so that you could eventually leave on time. Mr. Laufeyson’s house was not far from the Forrests’. You pulled up to the tall gates and rolled down your window to push the buzzer. A voice rose from the crackly speaker and you called out your purpose several times before you were understood.

The wrought iron gates finally opened and you pulled through slowly. The drive was even longer than Stacey’s and the house grander. It was indeed old-fashioned. You pulled up before the large garage off the side of the house and stepped out onto the cobblestone. Your thick heel skidded over them and you nearly tripped. You locked your car and carefully walked along to the front steps.

You climbed them carefully but stumbled up the last. As you fell and scraped your hands on the stone porch, you heard the door open. You looked up and cringed as Mr. Laufeyson looked down at you. He stepped out onto the porch and you dragged yourself up by the column at the top of the railing.

“You okay?” He touched your elbow gently as you dusted your hands off on your jacket.

“Fine,” You assured him. “You know, gotta make an entrance.

“You’re early,” He said.

“Shall I wait?” You asked.

He chuckled and waved you ahead of him to the door. “Not at all. I’ve been eagerly awaiting you.”

You were silent as you neared the open door and entered the large foyer. He was close behind as he pulled the door closed and you tried not to flinch as he brushed close to you. You looked up at the grand chandelier and the towering portraits of ancestors.

“Where shall we start?” He asked.

“Well, I usually begin with a walk through and then we can go over my notes at the end. Discuss what you want to change, what you’d like to keep,” You took out your notebook as you spoke. “You’ll have a copy of it all. Should you choose to carry out the plans with another designer, you’ll still have them as reference.”

“Very well,” He nodded and you waited for him to lead you; up the stairs, through the door to your left or to your right. Just to start the whole awkward day.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You glanced over at him and he smirked.

“Loki,” He said. “We can go without the formalities for the day, I think.”

“Loki, where should we start?”

“I know you remember me,” He ignored your question. “And I certainly remember you.”

“I did appreciate the drink,” You said evenly. “And again, I do apologise for my carelessness.”

He considered you a moment. He didn’t move.

“And you know who I am?” He asked.

“Who doesn’t?” You answered as you looked around tensely. Heat began to crawl up your neck.

“A thug, no?” He wondered. You blanched at the word you’d used only days before.

“It was a joke…”

“I do not deny it,” He assured you. “Or take offence. I’ve been called worse.”

You took a deep breath and tapped your pen on your notebook. Your turned to look at him directly.

“Did you bring me here to reprimand me?” You asked.

His smirk remained and he buttoned his jacket.

“I brought you here to rid this place of my father’s stench,” He said coolly. “And because this universe has a peculiar way of aligning the stars.”

“Left, right, or up,” You pointed to each door and then the broad stairway. “We should begin before the time gets ahead of us.”

“We should,” He agreed. “The left, dear.”

🐍

It took you all day to get through every room of the house. As you explored, you pieced together the story of the old place. A family property passed down through the generations. Nobles until the Great War, criminals in its aftermath and since. They hid their delinquency beneath their titles.

Loki seemed to have little love for his late father. His words were resentful. He explained that this was the lesser of two houses; the other was bequeathed to his brother. Expected but still a thorn.

He talked more than you expected, as if to fill the silence as you jotted down notes. Perhaps to loosen your own tongue. A man used to charming others. His words were as useful a weapon as a gun. You found it hard not to let them sway you. It was easy to see him as pleasant when his task was not so odious.

You caught yourself several times. He followed a bit too closely, leaned in a bit too much to look over your shoulders, held doors for you, brushed against you a little too conspicuously. You sensed him closing in the further you delved into the old family stead. Felt him looming around you as you tried to focus on the peeling wallpaper and golden candlesticks.

You were on the third floor. The walls were lined with geometric sconces of the art deco era. They could be restored easily and once more stylish even a century later. You reached the end of the hall and tucked your notebook under your arm as he pushed open the door there. He stepped back and waited for you to enter. You did, cautiously.

You walked the perimeter of the room, around the armoire and the bed, the standing lamp, the curled feet of the night tables. An extravagant fireplace with statues of lions on its mantle gaped back at you. You stopped before it as you scribbled on the paper. You turned and looked around once more.

“Are you set on the bed frame?” You asked. “An antique but clunky.”

“Hmmm,” He thought as he neared the foot of the bed. “I’m not sure.”

“I suppose if you removed the canopy and replaced the duvet it might…” You glanced at him and your eyes strayed behind him. The door was closed. You hadn’t heard it shut. You shook off the tremor and looked back to the tasseled canopy. “It might work but you could free up a lot of space, make it a little more open with something less… imposing.”

He rounded to your side of the bed slowly. He dragged his fingers along the bedding and stopped beside you.

“I think I know what might make it look a little nicer,” He said.

“Oh?” You kept your eyes on your notebook as you scribbled down nonsense.

“Yes,” He lifted his hand from the bed and grabbed your notebook. “I think you might look rather striking in it.”

He dislodged the book from your hand and you tried to catch it before he flung it across the room. You stared up at him in shock and he ripped the pen from your hand in kind. You stepped back, startled.

“Loki,” You gasped. “What are--”

“You knew the kind of man I was back in that restaurant,” He blocked you as you tried to skirt past him. “You knew it at the Forrests’, and yet you came here.”

“I came to work.” You insisted. “I came because another said I would.”

You tried to push past him but he caught you around your waist. He swept you off your feet and swung you onto the bed. You bounced on the mattress and sat up quickly.

“Loki,” You tried to shimmy off the bed. “I don’t--”

He was on top of you before you could get your feet over the edge. He shoved you back down and straddled you beneath him. You tried to wriggle out, tried to push him off, bat him away, but he caught your hands and pinned them to the bed.

“You knew that night who I was and what I can do.” He purred. “And I knew what I would do. Sooner or later.” He leaned over you until his nose almost touched yours. “I knew I would find you again.”

“Please,” You breathed shakily. “Please, you can stop and we can both forget--”

“I can’t forget,” He sneered. “I won’t.”

“Let me go,” You begged. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for any of it. I said sorry, I--”

“Oh, dear, this isn’t about that,” He rubbed his nose against yours cloyingly. “This is about the way that ass looks in those pants.”

You whined and kicked helplessly beneath him. “Help!” You yelled. “Someone, please!”

“I dismissed the help when you showed up. It’s an empty house, dear,” He rocked his pelvis against yours. “In the middle of the country.”

You grunted in frustration. He sat back and released your hands. He pushed your jacket open. He barely noticed as you slapped his arms and chest. He chuckled even. He tore your blouse and his hands cupped your bra. He squeezed and rocked his hips. He groaned as he groped you.

He slid his body down over yours until he was draped over you. He bent his head to your chest and kissed along your cleavage. You pulled his hair roughly as you tried to wrench him away. A hand slithered up and closed around your throat. He squeezed as his teeth pinched your flesh. You cried out from the pain.

Slowly, he raised his head. A black strand fell across his forehead. “My dear, it means nothing for me to hurt you.” His grip tightened. “So if you insist upon it, I will.”

You grasped at his hand as you tried to breathe. Your eyes watered and you nodded frantically. Your head was starting to throb. He let go and once more buried his head in your chest. His hand crawled back down as he held him over you, he flicked your fly open with one hand and pushed the zipper down slowly.

You were paralysed. Shock, fear, mortification washed over you. You were stupid enough to come hear. Weak enough to go along with Stacey’s demands. And desperate enough to be inflamed by his touch.

His fingers hooked beneath the waist of your pants and the elastic of your panties. He tore them down. He jolted your entire body and backed off of you as he forced them down your legs and over your boots. You tried to sit up but he was quick to shove you back down. He put his arm across your throat and held you there as he pushed his knees between your legs.

You shook and clung to his arm as he leaned on your windpipe.

“Loki…” You pleaded.

He tickled along your thigh and slipped two fingers between your lips. You gulped as he flicked your clit and your thighs tingled. You bit down and he did it again. He delved between your folds and your arousal was soon obvious. He returned to your bud and rubbed until your thighs were tensed against his.

“You can try to resist me, dear,” He snarled. “But know, I’ll always find a way to get to you.”

He shoved his fingers inside and you cried out. He pressed his thumb to your clit as he drew his fingers in and out. You slapped his shoulder and latched onto it as he kept on. You could feel your ascent and he urged you to your tipping point. You moaned and closed your eyes as your body quaked in betrayal. You came on his fingers. You could feel it, hear it.

You tried to catch his breath as he left you empty. He slipped his arm off your throat and leaned on his elbow as he unzipped his trousers. You squirmed and he grabbed a hank of your hair and pulled. You whimpered and he rolled his pants down to his thighs. He dragged his tip along your wet folds and you spread your hands over his chest.

You shook your head and tried to beg with your eyes. You pushed on his chest and he lined himself up with your entrance. He slammed his hips down and you yelped as he impaled you to his limit. Your fingers clawed at the lapels of his jacket as he began to rock. You went limp beneath him as your body buzzed. You were repulsed by how good it felt.

He sat up and grabbed your thighs. He held your legs against him as he watched his cock slide in and out of you. Each thrust came sooner than last, harder than the last, deeper than the last. You reached out and balled the duvet in your fists as you tried to breathe away the mixture of agony and ecstasy. It didn’t work.

You came again. This time you shook even more and exclaimed louder than before. He let go of your left leg and reached to pulled your bra down beneath your tits. He kneaded as he tilted into you.

“Say my name,” He commanded. You shook your head and he pinched your nipple. “Say it!”

“Loki,” You whimpered.

“Again.” He growled.

“Loki,” You repeated.

“Keep going.”

His name tumbled from your lips over and over. Each time he pounded into you, you recited the syllables. You came a third time and covered your face in shame. You were dizzy and confused. He sank into as deep as he could and the bed stilled. You felt him spill inside of you, his cock twitched as he groaned.

You went quiet and all strength drained from your body. He sighed and eased himself out of you. His cum leaked down onto the duvet between your legs as he crawled backward off the bed. You drew your legs together as he stood. He bent to grab your pants from the floor and tossed them over you.

He tucked his cock away and zipped up his fly. He pushed his shoulders back and let out another deep breath. He watched you smugly as you shakily sat up and grasped your pants. His eye brow crooked and he felt around in his jacket as it began to buzz. He pulled out his phone and read the screen.

“That’s the wife,” He said. “Shit. I’ll have to let her know I’m running late.”

You blinked as he turned and answered the phone. Your eyes were wide and your heart seemed to stop as he opened the door and disappeared into the hall. His wife. You hadn’t thought you could feel worse but like many things, you were wrong.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #mcu #marvel #thor #fic #one shot #or short series #possible sequel #dark!fic #dark fic #au #mafia au #mob au

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unhealthy-netflix-tings · 4 years ago

Text

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖙 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

Request with a character from this list or a celeb.

D/Number for dialogue prompt

A/Number for action/scene prompt

Dialogue:

"What did you do?"

"Who did you do?"

"Who was it?"

"You look...stunning."

"You could've died."

“I hate to say I told you so, but...” “That’s a lie.”

“Is that a hint of jealousy I detect?”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that” “God gave me ears for a reason.” "And he gave me a foot but you don't see me kicking people."

“Have you slept at all this week?”

"I’m just lonely today, I guess.”

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“You don’t want to hear what I really think.”

“Just forget it, never mind.”

“This is definitely not what it looks like.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Shush, we’ll get caught,”

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“Please don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“Stay with me.”

“Walk out that door and we’re through.”

“Well? Yell, scream, say something. Anything.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“I hate how much I can’t hate you.”

“Why are you so jealous?”

*Dramatic gasp* "Is the great ____ ____ actually jealous?

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You make me feel.. you make me feel. And I hate it.”

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” “Lovely.”

“You’re burning up.”

“Go back to bed.”

“Oh God, I need a drink.”

“You’re gonna have to pay for that.”

“Please tell me that’s paint.”

“Could I get some more _____?”

“How about we put down the guns and have a nice conversation for once, eh?”

“Words can’t describe how much I want to be with you.”

“We may have a problem.” “You’re bleeding.” “That’s the problem.”

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

“Can you walk?”

“People are staring.” “Let them.”

"Don’t lie.”

“Stay with me, please.”

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

“Talk to me. Please. I need you to talk to me.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” “You don’t mean that.” “I think I do this time.”

“Do you trust me?” “Always.”

“Stay awake!”

“Do you like that?”

“I need you.”

"I don’t care about her/him. I care about you.”

“You went too far this time,”

"In this world, the only people who can stay together are Sonny and Cher." "They broke up in the seventies." "Not in my mind, they didn't."

"Try it and see what happens."

"I wouldn't sit on my lap in that outfit."

"Y'know I'm attracted to you." "My foot is attracted to your ass."

"I think I love them." "Yeah, no shit."

Actions

My ex showed up to this party/bar help me make them jealous

We hate each other but (authority figure) put us together to do this thing and have you always looked that attractive?

You ended up being my sparring partner and now you're on top of me and I don' want you to move.

We accidentally pissed the wrong people off and you pulled me into this alley/closet and you're very close rn

We're staying somewhere together and oh no there's only one bed.

Our ____ is making us go to this event together and damn you look amazing

We bumped into each other and got angry but why are you now at this party?

We're neighbours with a connecting wall and I thought you were doing something else but why are you jumping on your bed?

Someone framed me and no one trusts me until a bullet goes through me and that's a lot of blood.

I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you

Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing

I fell asleep on your lap and did you braid my hair?

One of us confessed our feelings angrily and we’re about to kiss but we get interrupted

We're not supposed to be together but if we keep hiding, someone's gonna realise.

You're sadly my last option so go to this wedding so my family stops trying to force me with someone

You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up

Our mutual decided their sick of us arguing and when they locked us in a room together this wasn't supposed to happen

You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute.

You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you

We were just cuddling but you said you love me and now Idk what to say

Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

We literally ran into each other

You’re leaving for something dangerous and I can’t help but kiss you

We were supposed to paint the house but I just splashed green paint on you and you're not impressed.

Everyone thinks I should stay away from you because you’re dangerous but I just saw you do something cute

Spin the bottle

Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings.

We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster/biker

Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait

I'm gonna save you from the shitshow date you're having with no ulterior motive whatsoe- wait

Taking care of the other when sick or injured

I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!

You took a bullet for me

Argument leading to kissing/sex

I called you at 2am because I need you

You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out

I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

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sheadre · 5 years ago

Text

Good Enough (Eric Coulter x Reader) Part One

Summary: Reader is tasked to be the instructor of the new initiates to Dauntless and Eric is her supervisor. They never calculated falling in love into their future and when things turn for the worse, will they accept their fate?

Word count: 3123

Warning: angst

youtube

The sky was a bright blue as you sat on the floor of the train. It was a late summer day in Chicago but you still wore black pants with laced boots and a dark grey tank top. Your arms were muscular but just the right amount to look fit and not a body builder. You had your knives on your belt and right thigh along with your gun.

Your (h/c) hair was pulled back from your face by your temples but was let out on your back. You inhaled deeply smelling the difference from the city which was filled with people and vehicles. This, the smell of nature was familiar to you and a small smile appeared on your face. Back when you chose Dauntless you knew that the only thing you will miss from being Amity was the nature. You looked at the scars on your wrists that reminded you of why you chose to leave your faction and become stronger and independent. There were quite a few on your back from your mother’s abusive behavior. She always made you responsible for your father’s departure. He left when you were little and married another woman, had three kids and a happy family life. You hated him and hated your mother. However, those days were over and now you had a new family of friends here in Dauntless. But not Eric.

Oh, Eric. He looked so good but was such an asshole most of the time that you avoided him at all costs. Luck was unfortunately not on your side these days though. Max assigned you with Eric to go to Amity and help the farmers move their goods from one place to the other. You could see the annoyance on the brunette’s face, his icy blue eyes glaring a hole through you during the meeting. Not that it was you, he despised so much, it was just the fact that he had to work with someone else. You looked up at him in the train and noticed him eying you. You lifted an eyebrow at him in question making him smirk.

‘You have some porridge on the corner of your mouth’ he noted making you quickly wipe your mouth but there was nothing.

‘Rude’ you stuck your tongue out at him childishly.

‘Real mature’ he rolled his eyes but still smirked.

‘You know, you look less like a gorilla when you smile’ you said standing up because your destination was nearing.

‘And you look less stupid when I don’t see your face’ he replied making you furious. He was a real asshole but you just sighed with a ‘whatever’ leaving your lips before jumping off of the train and started trudging forward to the truck and the farmers waiting for you.

Amity were easily scared and they were skittish around factionless people. That’s why you needed to be here. You and Eric helped them pack grain and hay onto the trucks until the sky turned grey then darker and darker. You went to check the place one last time when you spotted two factionless children lurking around the barn. You went after them and grabbed the girl by her arm making her cry out in panic but was quieted by your hand on her mouth.

‘Ssshhhh…’ you chided. ‘How many do you need?’

Your question shocked them and left them speechless making you roll your eyes and asking them again a little more insistent.

‘Four portions for the others’ the boy replied who had big green eyes with messy red hair. You opened the door of the barn and quickly gave them two large sack of food. They were filled with flour, potato, carrots and some peas. It was worth eight portions and Erudite could live on without eight portions. The most food went there and the best of that too. These children needed the food and you weren’t letting them starve if you can help it.

‘What the hell are you doing, (L/N)?’ Eric’s strict deep voice interrupted you as you closed the barn’s door. You quickly turned around to face him with a sheepish smile.

‘Nothing’ you replied.

‘That is nothing, huh?’ he pointed at the two kids standing there scared out of their shoes making you groan. They should’ve scurried off when you gave them the sacks.

‘They need it, Eric… More than Erudite’ you furrowed your eyebrows.

‘Get back to the truck’ he motioned with his head toward the trucks as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

‘No-‘

‘You’re still not in a position to disobey me, (L/N)!’ he raised his voice. You looked at the children worried but nodded tensely and left the scene. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you waited for Eric who emerged from the back of the barn ten minutes later. You glared at him, your muscles so tense that if he said one word, you would jump at him.

‘If anyone else would’ve been assigned to you, you would be finding yourself in much trouble’ Eric said as he sat next to you on the truck nodding to the farmer who drove. The way back to Dauntless was quiet and you were both angry and worried. You knew how cruel Eric could be but they were just children and they were clearly starving.

You went straight to your shared apartment with Cher and buried yourself in a book to calm yourself down a little. You were angry with yourself that you got caught in crime and that Eric would report it.

You stood in Max’s office with a gaping mouth when the leader showed you Eric’s report. The bastard wrote a report that was detailing how excellent you were and how good you handled everything without his help. Not a single word about the children. You blushed from all the praise but you chided yourself. He only wrote these to get rid of you. He must think that if Max sees this, he will send you on missions with someone higher ranked or alone. You gave your report which was a much more boring one to Max and left his office.

You had nothing to do today as you got a day off so you decided to do something you loved to do: bake. You mixed the ingredients and the cupcakes were baking in your oven. It smelled heavenly drawing Cher out of her bedroom.

‘You know I love you, right?’ she asked you with a cheeky smile making you laugh.

‘I will design one just for you, Cher’ you replied chuckling.

‘Why are you baking anyway?... wait something good happened!’ she exclaimed. Her plush lips parted in an “o�� as her brown eyes widened. ‘Does it have to do anything with Mr. Scary Coulter?’

Cher was always teasing you for staring at Eric when you were training at the same time in the gym. You were just keeping an eye on him… were you? No, you definitely just kept an eye on him to keep your distance. Even if it was hard not to look at him with those abs and biceps bulging as he was training with someone. You only noticed Cher’s sneaky expression with the knowing smirk when you snapped back from your daydream.

‘He just didn’t rat me out to Max about yesterday’ you replied turning around as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. Cher just laughed and approached you draping an arm over your shoulders.

‘(Name), (Name), (Name)… we both know that you have the hugest crush on him and you can’t even deny it’ she said making you groan.

‘That’s it! I had enough of you! You won’t get a single cupcake!’ you said as you went to the oven to check on the cupcakes. As you decorated them with buttercream and things you kept thinking about Eric. To be honest, you knew you liked him but only when he wasn’t an asshole. He could be nice if he wanted to but he wasn’t. You knew it was an act when there were people around him but he let his guard down a few times around you somehow. It made you feel special but then he put his guard up again and acted like the asshole he was usually.

The cupcake you designed for him had blue buttercream and chocolate chips on it and inside the dough was chocolate. You put it in a small paper bag which was closed by a black ribbon on top. You attached a few words letter and hurried out of your apartment. You went two corridors down and knocked on Eric’s door (you knew which was his because you had to give him reports a few times before) and hurried out of sight. You saw the door open and Eric look out checking the hallway before noticing your small offer on his doormat.

You watched in wonder as a genuine full smile appeared on his face which made your heart speed up in your chest. He was so handsome if he smiled instead of scowling.

Eric’s POV:

The brunette sat on a stool by his kitchen counter and carefully opened the small paper bag. It smelled heavenly and looked just as heavenly as he lifted the cupcake from its holder. He read the small letter attached with a smile on his face.

Next time I will be more careful, thank you for having my back

(Name)~

Eric bit into the sweet and sighed satisfied. Just as he remembered. (Name) rarely baked because of the lack of time she had on her hands but the few times she did, Eric found some baked goodness on his doormat. At first, she didn’t sign it and he caught her leaving the hallway not quickly enough. Later, she started leaving small letters with the offerings. Eric stood up and went to his fridge securing the new letter to it with a fridge magnet.

He couldn’t understand how she was able to get to him but she did. He couldn’t help but watched her train when they were in the gym at the same time. Her long (h/c) hair up high on her head in a tight ponytail, her shoulders and arms bare in her black tank top as she spared with one of her friends. Her narrow waist twisting with the movements and a bead of sweat disappearing in the valley of her breasts. Eric sighed his chest tightening. Why would someone like her want someone like him? He was a monster to others, an untamed beast that was about to rip other’s heads off the second they said something he didn’t like. But he didn’t want to be the weak Erudite kid he once was.

His fingers brushed the notes one last time before he went back to his work.

Your POV:

Almost a week passed since you gave Eric that cupcake but those feelings kept bubbling in your chest. During training you kept getting distracted by his sculpted torso and how he helped the new members with certain moves. It was certain that he has changed. He was only yelling at others during training before, but now he was instructing them as he should. Four was frowning at it in confusion but told you to stay focused on your training with him.

You apologized and went back to work with him. Four was strong but he was a good tactician making it hard to find an opening. You were on your back quickly panting heavily.

‘You’re losing focus, (Name)’ Four said. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah… I’m fine’ you groaned.

‘I’m not talking about your body’ he said. ‘I was talking about your mind.’

‘It’s just… I… I can’t figure him out’ you nodded towards Eric.

‘That report was strange, yeah’ Four said eying Eric. ‘I don’t know what he’s planning but be careful.’

‘I’m not a threat to his position, Four. It would be suspicious if the report would be about you but it was about me.’ you replied crossing your arms.

‘Then he sees something in you’ your friend said. ‘You are good, you finished at the tops last year and Max already trusted you with many high ranked missions.’

‘Or our fearless, scary leader decided to confess his love for our (Name)’ Cher jumped on you from behind. You rolled your eyes as she squeezed your cheeks making you groan. Four chuckled at your antics which was rare and said goodbye to you telling you he had a meeting. You turned to Cher with an annoyed glare and crossed your arms.

‘Why would he love me, Cher? There’s nothing exceptional about me, I’m just… I’m just me’ you gestured over your figure.

‘And if he likes you? You should take your chance, sweetie!’ she replied trying to convince you but you shook your head.

‘I don’t want to get rejected yet again… I had too many of that already’ you sighed running a hand through your hair as you brushed past her and headed out the gym. You needed air and your hiding place became the small backyard you found and planted flowers there when you had time. Not that you had much of that, but whenever you could, you took your mind off of things with taking care of your secret garden in the middle of Dauntless.

You closed the sack of soil as you finished with exchanging the old soil with the new one so the roses got some fresh minerals. You sat back on your heels as you wiped the back of your hand across your forehead with a sigh. There was no way he would notice you. You were nothing special, just one of the faces in the crowd. No one ever looked at you as more than just a friend or as girlfriend material. You wished you would know how the touch of another’s felt. Their warmth as they embrace you, their soft whispers in your ear and their lips on yours. You missed all these yet you had no idea how it felt to be touched… how it felt to be loved. You sighed again with a sad smile playing on your lips and looked up at the blue sky above.

‘It’s pretty amazing how you managed to hide this place’ his familiar deep voice hit you like a tidal wave, your eyes widening. Your head snapped to him.

‘W-what are you doing here?!’ you asked shocked as you scrambled to your feet and quickly started packing up things to put them away. You didn’t notice him walking up to you, only his touch on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks.

‘You looked like you needed someone who would just listen’ Eric said.

‘There’s just a lot going on my mind… you must have better things to do’ you said with a small smile.

‘I wouldn’t be here’ he replied furrowing his eyebrows making you avert your gaze. ‘So tell me… is it Four?’

‘What?’ you looked back up confused and completely dumb founded.

‘You like Four but he doesn’t feel the same way, right?’ Eric asked a little annoyed.

‘No… ewww, no way’ you cringed. ‘And I would never fall for someone like Four. He’s… he’s just not my type… and why would a guy like him want anything from me? I mean… look at me, I’m just like everyone else… average.’ you shrugged pulling away from his touch and putting the sack of soil back to its place by the wall.

‘You’re not average, (Name)’ Eric crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘At least I don’t think you are.’

‘Then what am I?’ you asked back curious. Your chest was hurting at that question and you wished you hadn’t asked but you needed to know. You didn’t really understand these feelings you were having for Eric and maybe hope wouldn’t be such a good thing for your fragile heart.

‘The strongest I’ve ever met.’ Eric’s deep voice replied as he averted his gaze. ‘You’re incredible both on the battlefield and psychologically. I don’t think many people would be able to think straight with two bullets in their shoulder and thigh.’

‘Yeah, I got shot during Capture the Flag, not in a real fight’ you snorted.

‘Still… you’re incredible’ he breathed and when you looked back up at him you noticed how close the two of you were. You could smell his fresh mint scented shampoo and his own scent. It was mesmerizing, rooting your legs to the spot. Your (e/c) eyes darted down to his lips before quickly jumping back to his blue eyes which looked through you with that piercing gaze.

Suddenly a loud ringing interrupted the two of you signaling for everyone that the new Initiates are soon arriving. You and Eric were tasked to train them, him being your instructor and you being placed in the position to train the new ones because Eric got a promotion to a higher ranked job. The two of you hurried in silence up to the rooftop where they would jump down into the net. You remembered how scared yet how excited you were as you jumped.

The first day was long introducing them to all the places and things. You smiled when they were picked up by the old members and hoped they would find their places here just like you did. Cher convinced you to have a drink with her so you reluctantly but went down to the bar and asked for a beer. It was cold making you sigh when you gulped down the first sip.

‘Have you confessed your love to him already?! Four, Jane and I were making bets on it and I want me some money’ Cher poked you with her index finger making you shake your head.

‘You guys are ridiculous’ you sighed and took another sip. Your eyes scanned the crowd lazily as you thought about a few hours earlier. You needed to stop feeling this way. You would never be good enough for him. You weren’t tall, skinny with blonde hair that reached your backside… just like the girl Eric was talking to all smiles, his hand on her lower back. Cher grabbed your upper arm with a worried expression.

‘(Name), they’re not-‘

‘See, I told you’ you smiled bitterly. ‘I could never catch the eyes of someone like him.’

#angst #eric coulter #divergent #x reader

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beentoheavenandback · 5 years ago

Text

URL Playlist

I was tagged by the lovely @kim-taelicious - thank you so much sweetheart!

A - "A little bit longer" by the Jonas Brothers (this song and the album it is taken from is strongly connected to my love for the Jonas Brothers. It made me love Nick, who was, and still is one of my celebrity crushes, even more - though recently I've been having a 'huge' soft spot for Joe 😝)

H - "열기 (Heat)" by LOOΠΔ (I love love love this song. It gives me such good vibes, and their voices are simply amazing. These ladies are pure energy and talent)

E - "Egoist" by Olivia Hye ft. JinSoul (this song is freaking awesome from begging to end, their voices, its sound, its lyrics. This is the first song I heard from some members of this awesome group, LOOΠΔ, and I immediately fell in love with it and these queens)

A - "Autumn leaves" by BTS (a heart warming song by these phenomenal group. The feeling it gives me reminds indeed of fall, but it also makes me somehow nostalgic)

R - "Run" by BTS (I simply adore this song. In a way it reminds me of my teenage years, when I was reckless and a dreamer 😊)

T - "TT" by TWICE (This song is so energetic and it gives me such positive vibes. These ladies are masters at making songs which can make one feel better 😘)

O - "Only human" by the Jonas Brothers (with this song I knew that I was completely back in track with my love for the Jonas Brothers, even after all these years. I just love it! And cannot wait for its video to be released 😋)

F - "Feelings" by Hayley Kiyoko (this woman is a powerhouse. This song is so fresh and you cannot stop dance to it)

S - "Singing in the rain" by JinSoul (the feeling of power and energy this songs gives to me is freaking awesome. Yet another bop by a member of LOOΠΔ)

T - "THE QUIET" by Troye Sivan (I feel likes this song speaks a lot to me. Troye in a way is able to clearly express the feeling of loneliness, and he does it beautifully and meaningfully)

E - "Empire of our own" by RAIGN (in my opinion, a song which can make you feel like you could take over the world, and somehow it feels really good)

E - "Endlessly" by The Cab (I'll never stop bragging about how freaking cool this band is, and this song is yet another proof of their talent. Its lyrics and its sound are simply awesome)

L - "Lights" by BTS (the way this song can bright my day. I love everything about it, and of course, the seven amazing people who sing it)

I - "Idol" by BTS (being the first song I actually heard by BTS, it holds a special place in my heart. I was so caught by it, and I am truly glad I keep on listening more to their songs, because a brand new and awesome world opened up to me)

S - "Slipped away" by Avril Lavigne (Avril has been one of the first artists I started to listen to when I was little. I've always loved her songs, and this touching one too, which I started to connect strongly just recently, unfortunately, but it is still a precious one to me)

S - "Spring day" by BTS (I simply adore this one. It's perfection to me. It speaks a lot to me, and I relate a lot to it. Love it, just love it)

T - "The hype" by Twenty one pilots (this song is catchy and amazing. In a way it also calming)

A - "Airplane Pt.2" by BTS (love the power this song has to make you feel good. It makes want to dance to it whenever I listen to it!)

R - "Rain" by BTS (this is such a soothing song. It makes me feel warm inside and leaves me feeling more relaxed)

T - "Toothbrush" by DNCE (a song which is on spot to dance to. Each DNCE song is able to make you feel good. This one is catchy and pretty positive)

I - "I Need U" by BTS (this song reminds me of some of my past relationships, so somehow it speaks to me, beside being another freaking bop by BTS)

N - "Numbers" by The Cab (I adore the way this song describes the feeling of being in love. Feeling like the person you love is the only one in the world. And don't even get me started with its rhythm. Awesome!)

G - "Girlfriend" by Avril Lavigne (I have so many memories attached to this song. It made me dream about having guts to confess my feelings to my middle school crush, making him finally notice me. In the end, my crush never really noticed me, but it's okay, because this song and the album it is from, made me spend one of the best summers of my life)

T - "The truth untold" by BTS (it is such an incredible song, to which I think anyone can relate to. It is hard to fully open up to people, especially the ones we love, but this also means being human. And the way the boys deliver its lyrics is simply majestic)

O - "Only one" by EXID (an upbeat and catchy song by this awesome group. This actually reminds me of when the heart starts to beat faster when you are around the person you love. An amazing song!)

G - "Guns for hands" by Twenty one pilots (it is actually one of the first songs by TOP I've I've heard. It totally caught my attention. I find it extremely catchy and cool)

R - "Radioactive" by Imagine Dragons (this song is so powerful. I just love the energy it gives me. Another reason why I love it is that it is also related to one my favourite shows, which is - you may guess - The 100)

O - "Oath" Cher Lloyd ft. Becky G (as soon as I heard this song the first time, I instantly though about me and my best friend. I love him so much, and I know we'll always have each other's and be each other's safe place, just like the song says)

W - "When you look me in the eyes" by the Jonas Brothers (this song definitely reminds me of my teenage years. I used to dream about a love like the one they sang about, and I still believe a love like that is real)

Tagging: @notreyoon @rm-dimplemaster @jiminsmagicshop @gukks @sugakookiesbutbadass @stillwaitinforit @clarketoearth @nvermindiseeyou @mgician @newyearsswifts and anyone else who feels like doing it!

❤❤❤❤❤

#game tag!

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twinkletoes-rp · 6 years ago

Text

Wolf’s Rain: Bloodied Chances Ch. 5 - Battle Scars

(Can also read on FFN / AO3 / Previous / Next)

Kiba’s already headed out to take in the moonlight before he sleeps, and Hige’s supposed to follow, but he stops short. He’s frowning thoughtfully at Toboe. After several seconds, he speaks, voice quiet and unsure. “Hey, Tsume?” The silver wolf immediately snaps to look at him, chest tightening. He’s only ever sounded like that when talking about his lost memories and what he did for Jaguara… “I never really…heard what happened with the kid and the old man… I mean, I know he got shot, obviously, but…you know, the specifics.” He bites his lip, looks away. “Toboe told me how you saved him from the guy when you first met, but…” his expression twists in talking about this, but he has to get it out, “…hell, the kid basically stared down the barrels of two guns, the old man’s and Darcia’s, when he died last time… It’s not…” his voice drops even lower, and Tsume’s almost surprised there isn’t a scorch mark on the ground from the heat of Hige’s glare, “…i-it just…doesn’t make sense…”

Tsume watches him for a long moment before he hums on a sigh. “I’m sorry. We should have explained it to you.”

Hige settles cross-legged on Toboe’s other side and smiles gently, hands moving inside his hoodie pocket. “Hey, in your defense, there was a lot going on.” There’s the smallest laughing undercurrent to his voice.

He feels victorious when it actually gets Tsume to smile a little bit. “True…” His eyes drift back to Toboe, and his smile falls, the space between his eyes pinching. “To be honest, there are still some things I don’t really understand myself…but I can guess…”

He doesn’t exactly sound happy about that, but Hige supposes nobody would be in this situation, especially with Toboe being Tsume’s…well, for lack of a more fitting description, best friend. Regardless, color Hige intrigued. “Okay, so…what’re you thinkin’, big guy?”

A small smile coming at the new nickname, Tsume thinks back to the incident. He tells Hige everything he and Kiba saw in taking down Blue and the old man, what Toboe said to him, all of it. He knows Hige would want it, so he goes into as much detail as he can, never mind how the younger man winces at how Kiba quieted Blue. Hige has to know Kiba would do it as gently as he could, though, knowing what she means (meant?) to Hige.

By the time he’s done, Hige looks more than a little pale and horrified, glancing frantically between Tsume and the kid, and it takes a minute before he can get a word past the secondhand panic clogging his throat. “Holy shit…!” he breathes, voice trembling the slightest bit. Tsume can see him curling shaking fists in his hoodie pocket. His gaze travels back to Toboe, looking conflicted and confused. “But why would he…? He could have fought back, could have… I mean, I know he and the old man have a complicated history, but…” Reaching out, he gently brushes his fingers through Toboe’s bangs and long hair with a small sigh. “What the hell happened, kid…?”

Tsume silently studies the way he is with Toboe, then the boy himself. He remembers how reassuring and sure Toboe was with Hige when the older was having his identity crisis in Jaguara’s Keep. Toboe’s always paid attention to things the rest of them don’t, read things in people and their personalities and never been afraid to praise or call them out on them. Hell, the kid did the latter with Tsume when they’d known each other for twenty minutes at best. And back then, with Jaguara, Toboe and Kiba were the only ones really able to bring Hige back to himself after everything. Tsume wishes he could have done more himself, wanted to, but…he’d had his doubts. He wasn’t alone in that, Kiba did, too, but good reasons be damned, he’d pushed and made his concerns more known, and…that put a strain on his and Hige’s relationship toward the end. Luckily, they both did their best to patch it up before they died, and if he really thinks about it...it was only after Toboe’s death that they were truly able to reconcile.

Once again, like pretty much everything good in his life (lives, really), Tsume’s coming to realize…it’s all because of Toboe.

Sheesh… When they first met, he never thought he’d be so lost on the kid, but…well, here he is. But if he’s being honest? He wouldn’t change a single damn thing about it. Any of it.

“So…you said you had theories…” Hige’s slow, thoughtful voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and Tsume tunes back in to find Hige staring at Toboe as well. He must have been thinking, too. Good. Otherwise, well, it might have been awkward. Permission to keep going, even begging, is more than present in his packmate’s tone.

Tsume nods stiffly, still a little startled to be back in reality and not quite sure how he’ll take his ideas. “Y-yeah…” Gaze shifting back to their youngest, Tsume takes a breath. “Have you…ever heard of something the humans call PTSD?”

Hige raises an eyebrow at him, mouth scrunched up in thought. “I don’t…think so… Why? ‘s it some kinda food?”

Tsume can’t help but breathe a sudden laugh at that, caught off guard, but not surprised. “No, dumbass,” he says, cuffing the other wolf upside the head gentler than he normally might. Hige smirks a trifle despite their conversation. Sobering, Tsume’s fingers ghost over Toboe’s wounded leg. He’s never wished for healing magic before, but he’d take some of Cheza’s right now gladly. Hell, even that Cher woman’s medical advice would be appreciated. “According to some of my men, it stands for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. They said it’s like a kind of…sickness in the brain some people develop in response to severe trauma. It usually mostly affects those who’ve fought in or been victims of war or some other kind of mass tragedy, but it can get to other people, too. One of my underlings was mauled by a dog as a kid, scarred physically and mentally, and whenever we came across one, he’d royally freak out. He shot one once, tried to shoot us when he lost his head completely. We’d have to drag him out of there after we managed to calm him down, if we could. If not, we did it kicking and screaming, fighting us all the way. And that’s even if we could get close enough to touch him at all. It got pretty dangerous, even for me.”

Hige’s quiet, listening intently all the while. He doesn’t really know what this has to do with Toboe, but…maybe the old man? Or both? Either way, he trusts that Tsume’s getting there. This is about Toboe, after all.

“They said he definitely had it. But they also said it could manifest in different ways, too. It could be a silent, frozen kind of freak out, wide-eyed and trembling and possibly hurting themselves without realizing. They’ll be there physically, but mentally, they’re reliving the trauma. Breaking out of it is like…being able to breathe again when you’ve been drowning…”

Hige watches him carefully. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Tsume talks from experience—or maybe he’s just reading too far into things. Whatever the case, his gaze zips back to Toboe, from his face to his leg and back. “So you think, the way he died, it might have— He might have— And the old man, too?”

Tsume hums in confirmation. He’s catching on quicker than he thought. “That’s my working theory, anyway.” He holds up two fingers, ticking them off as he goes. “The old man has the first kind, the violent one. Toboe…” he clenches a fist so hard that his knuckles pop, nails almost break skin, “…well, from what I saw…he has the second…”

There’s a kind of tense silence that settles here, both of them staring hard at Toboe with guilt and frustration and a particularly painful kind of devastation playing in their chests. Outside, having heard every word, Kiba feels it, too.

“Damn it…” Hige hisses, and Tsume glances over. He’s looking at Toboe with such sad, angry eyes. “I wish…I wish there was something we could do for ‘im… More, you know? I wish…” He gets that look in his eyes that tells Tsume he’s remembering his own trauma at the hands of Jaguara, and it curls something so startlingly painful in Tsume’s gut that he can’t help but want to stop it in its tracks.

Reaching out, he lays a firm hand on Hige’s shoulder. “Hey.” The younger wolf turns at the deceptively stern tone of voice, the gentleness underneath drawing his attention. He’s shocked and maybe a little helplessly awed to see the calm, confident smile on Tsume’s face. “Don’t look so defeated.” Gaze moving back to Toboe, he squeezes Hige’s shoulder. “If he was alone,” like he was when Tsume first found him, “maybe we should worry. But he has us,” has Tsume, “and he knows we won’t let anything happen to him.” Not again. A gentle thumb strokes a bead of sweat from Toboe’s cheek. “We can’t change what happened before, but we can make sure history doesn’t repeat itself. If he needs us, we’ll be there, and that’s what matters.”

Hige blinks, Kiba’s smiling proudly outside, and then the younger wolf breaks out into a bright, toothy grin that has the set of Tsume’s shoulders easing. Thank Paradise for that. “Yeah, for sure! Thanks, Tsume!” He laughs. “You know, you’re sounding more and more like Kiba when you get all wise like that!”

Tsume raises an eyebrow at that last part before he huffs a laugh, smirking. “Yeah, maybe. Just don’t tell him that. He’ll get a big head.”

Hige snorts, brushing himself off as he moves to stand. “Sure. Whatever you say.” Softening for a moment in meeting Tsume’s eyes again, voice following, he says, “Seriously…thanks for explaining everything. I think I understand things a lot better now.” He looks back toward Toboe, melting all the more. “Take care of the runt for us. We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Tsume nods. “No problem.” He smiles fondly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got him. I’ll wake you to change his bandage in a few hours. Thanks, Hige. Now go get some sleep before we’re both up all night.”

Yawning, the younger wolf heads out the door with a lazy wave. “G’night.”

As promised, Tsume does wake Hige to redress Toboe’s wound and change out his towel around midnight, and as he also promised, Tsume does do his best to get some sleep afterward. It’s a bit restless and light, under the circumstances, but it’s still a good sleep, and he’s grateful for that.

“No! Granny, wait!”

But somewhere before dawn, that shatters.

Toboe’s frantic, tearful shout startles Tsume awake instantly, gasping sharply and automatically reaching for his knife before he realizes what exactly woke him. The second he does, he’s focusing all his attention on Toboe. The boy’s tossing and turning, blankets halfway thrown off, and his breathing and heart rate are through the roof. He’s drenched in sweat, there are tears running down his face, and his twisted, grieving expression is like multiple punches to Tsume’s gut. “Toboe…”

Hesitating before reaching over to take his hand, Toboe’s fingers twitch at Tsume’s touch before recognizing and welcoming it, threading their fingers together. Tsume can’t help the light blush that covers his cheeks at that, softening, then squeezing. He wants to tell him it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t know if that would be the right thing to do. When Gehl was sick like this and had nightmares, the others always told him it was safer to let him ride it out. He didn’t really understand then, still doesn’t now if he’s honest, but those guys treated Gehl like a little brother, so he trusted their judgment. He still does. He’ll trust their advice now, too.

“G-Granny…” Tsume snaps back to the present at Toboe’s small, sad voice, wincing when it cracks. “I-I never meant… I-I just wanted to—to show you I loved you…t-that I was excited to see you and eat with you, but I… A-and Leara…your bird, I…I-I was just trying to…to impress you, I didn’t… B-both of you…I-I’m so sorry… S-so sorry…”

Tsume’s ears perk at that, finding himself leaning forward a little. He’s always had his suspicions, ever since Toboe first told him about his Granny. Then the incident with Leara’s bird pushed them along a little more, when he wanted to stay behind with those nomads in the desert even more, and finally…with how he died… Well, honestly…if he’s right about what he thinks this is, he can’t say he’s really surprised. Horrified and crushed for Toboe’s sake, but…God, he understands. Probably better than anyone else could.

“I never meant to kill anything…” It’s a broken, guilty whisper, so much that if Tsume weren’t a wolf, he’s not sure he would have heard it, let alone made it out. Part of him wishes he didn’t. “I-I’m so sorry…”

And there it is. That first line Tsume’s heard before, back in the old world after he rescued Toboe from Leara. Now that he has all this, too…it’s as good a confession as any. A lot of things are making a hell of a lot more sense now. Not that he’s happy about it. Of course not. He’s always known how Toboe struggles with hurting people when he doesn’t mean to. Hell, Tsume himself struggles with it, too—a few accidentally-violent exchanges with the boy in question in that once-warzone from the old world come to mind—and he’s almost sure, knowing how perceptive Toboe is, the kid has his own suspicions about that in relation to his past.

But having suspicions and knowing they’re correct…those are two very different things. Especially when they make the silver wolf upset for two colossally different reasons.

“B-Blue…” Tsume jumps in surprise at that name, narrowing his eyes in confusion, “…I-I couldn’t protect Pops…” He grimaces and curls his free hand into a tight fist, glaring at the ground with gritted teeth. Oh…that’s why… “Y-you asked me to look after him for you…I promised, a-and I tried, I swear…but I…I-I still let ‘im die—!” He flinches at that sobbing break at the end, swearing his heart can’t take much more. It’s shattered enough already as is. “P-Pops, I…y-you forgave me…l-let go of your hatred, in the end, but…I still can’t…” Forgive himself. Yeah… Tsume knows how that feels, too… “Y-you held me…in the snow and when we were dying…” Tsume bites back a whine, “…and we were so happy…” Toboe gives another hissing sob. “I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t—! I-I wanted to—!”

The tears are coming faster now, and Toboe has to take a few seconds to catch his breath. Tsume’s almost glad. He has to remember to breathe entirely. A part of him wonders why the other two aren’t here (he’s sure they’re hearing every word), but he knows it’s probably half that they don’t want to crowd the poor kid and half that Tsume will be the best at comforting Toboe. If he needs them, though, he knows they’ll come running.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness…any of you…” Toboe whispers, and Tsume swears his heart stops. “Pops and Blue…you don’t remember anything… Y-you tried to kill me… T-there was no Granny here…or Leara…her bird… I…I-I was so alone—!” The end snaps off with a devastated sob, and Tsume rests his forehead against Toboe’s hand he holds like a lifeline, squeezing his eyes shut as a violent shudder runs through him. He can’t bring himself to be surprised when a few tears slip down his face. Jesus, kid…! The quietest, most sacred part comes last. “Is this…i-is this my punishment…?”

Oh… Okay, that is it!

There’s a choked sob, desperate and pained, and the next thing Tsume knows, he’s hugging Toboe tightly, pressing his forehead into his chest. “Okay…” he growl-breathes, low and guttural, halfway sobs; he supposes even he has a breaking point, “…okay, kid… That’s enough…please…” He doesn’t think he can take any more, but more importantly, he doesn’t think Toboe himself can either. “I don’t know if you can hear me…but if you can, I need you to listen…you hear me…?”

Toboe, despite his still-flowing tears, is quiet, brow pinched. His head has stopped moving, is essentially facing him. Tsume takes that as cue enough to keep going. He just hopes he can get through to him.

“You’re wrong… You’re wrong, damn it…!” He shakes his head vehemently, not caring when the sweat soaking Toboe’s clothes wets his face and hair. He’s here and warm and alive. That’s the most important thing there is. “No one blames you for anything…! No one is punishing you for anything…!” How can Toboe even think these things?! Why wouldn’t he tell him?! The idea alone makes Tsume want to either be sick or tear something apart. “You can’t control fate… You can’t control what the universe brings you and what it takes away—!” All he can think of is Toboe being both for him, and it makes him choke on a sob. “The only thing you can control is what you do with your life, and none of what happened before was your fault! Not a damn thing! You did the best you could! That’s all anyone can ask, you hear me, runt?!” He and Toboe haven’t talked about their lives in this world before they all met up and regained their memories, but he will as soon as he thinks it’s appropriate because, damn it…he is having a word with fate if it fucking kills him! “I promise you, Toboe…you will never be alone again! You have us, you have me! You don’t ever have to question that!”

He almost jumps when Toboe’s free hand comes up to touch his apparently-trembling shoulder, frozen as it moves up and up and up until…he melts as it starts to stroke his hair. Oh… He felt violated when Cheza did it in the old world, asleep or otherwise, but…he’s entirely conscious here (though he realizes he’d gladly fall asleep like this) and feels like he’s in Heaven… Figures it’d be because of Toboe…

His voice melts in kind. “Granny loved you, Toboe… She loved you so much, and she knows you’d never hurt her on purpose… Leara knows you didn’t mean to hurt her bird by now, I’m sure… Blue and the old man… You did keep your promise to her, Toboe… You kept the old man as safe as you could, died to protect him, and you…you are the one who turned him around in the end… That was all you, kid…!” Toboe’s tears have slowed immensely by now, lower lip trembling in touched shock. “I know, if she were here with all her memories, she’d say the same thing. Probably a hell of a lot better than I am right now…”

He breathes a laugh, moving to rest his ear over Toboe’s heart. Wouldn’t you know…? Playing his favorite lullaby… Now he’s really a goner… “Even if this world is different and new, and people we knew before aren’t the same…we’re all together, we remember, and we will reach Paradise this time. I can feel it.” A heartbeat, two. “And until then, I’ll keep you safe from the nightmares, Toboe…” he whispers, swears, into the dark. “Just trust me… Trust me like you always have...”

Because he knows, even if Toboe doesn’t remember the story he told his body, how big of a deal trust is for both of them.

Toboe’s heartbeat is steadying more and more as the seconds pass, his breathing evening out, too, hand in silver hair slowing. Tsume would look up to see if he’s stopped crying for sure, but…well, looks like those hair and heartbeat tricks worked a little too well. He smiles in his almost-sleep, adjusting their positions so he’s lying beside Toboe and carefully curling the boy close to his chest. Toboe, apparently intent on holding his hand like his life depends on it, turns to nuzzle into his chest farther than he usually would and curl a light fist in his shirt. Tsume breathes a laugh and, after blindly fixing the towel on his forehead, tucks the boy’s head under his chin.

“Night, Toboe…”

#Wolf's Rain #Wolf's Rain fanfiction #Toboe #Tsume #Quent Yaiden #Any feedback would be much appreciated #Just FYI this isn't Tsume/Toboe but if you want to see it that way hey I can't stop you Tsume's just really scarred from losing Toboe #doesn't want to hide how much he cares anymore (at least not as much)

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thenonsenseuniverse · 7 years ago

Text

Believe

Hamilton! Modern Au Platonic! Hamilsquad x Reader TRIGGER WARNING!: Suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt Summary: The demons had been haunting Y/N for far too long. Their brother, Alexander Hamilton, can’t help but wonder if things could’ve ended differently if only he had noticed.

*Y/N = YOUR NAME Y/S/N = YOUR SIBLING NAME (SISTER/BROTHER/ETC.) Y/G = YOUR GENDER *

They were always following them.

The voices in Y/N's head had been stalking them with every step they took for as long as they could remember. They taunted them and pointed at all their flaws and weakness. They made them feel as if there was nothing they could do.

"Y/N?"

They were snapped out of their thoughts and looked up to see their friends and brother all looking at their with concerned eyes.

Marquis de Lafayette, Hercules Mulligan, John Laurens, Aaron Burr and their older brother Alexander Hamilton was probably the only good thing in their life. They kept them happy and were always keeping an eye out for them.

'You know they only hang around you because your Alex's annoying little Y/S/N, right? None of them really like you.'

Y/N frowned as the black shadow of one of the voices leaned over their shoulder, grinning at them with a sadistic grin. It chuckled and flicked their face, causing them flinch. 'I mean why would they? You're just a nobody. An empty, broken shell who is nothing!'

"Y/N!" Herc whistled and waved his hand in front of their face. "Are you alright? We kinda lost you there for a moment."

'No. They're not alright. They're ever so slowly dying on the inside and is tearing themselves apart. They stay up every night thinking about every little thing they did wrong that day and cry. They're numb, and they don't even know why. Please help them. Please notify us!' The voice pleaded over dramatically and fell to its knees beside Herc as if it was begging him.

Y/N offered him a fake smile. "I'm fine."

Alex eyed them suspiciously when they said this. He knew they haven't been sleeping recently, the circles under their eyes proved that. He had a feeling that things definitely weren't fine.

Lafayette smiled at them and turned to the rest of the group. "I think notre ami needs some comforting. I say we go and get some ice cream, and watch a movie." Y/N could feel their cheeks warm as the others cheered at the suggestion. For a moment it sounded like a great idea, but of course, the voice couldn't allow that.

'They must think that you're so needy and annoying. Can't even take care of yourself, and now you're dragging them into your mess. Yeah, you're a great friend.'

They hesitated but shook their head at their friends offer. "You guys don't have to do that. I'm okay, really."

'Not just annoying but a liar too. Tsk tsk.'

John chuckled and patted their back as he got up. "Non-sense! We want to help you out, come on."

That was a good day. The boys were so hyperactive and talkative during the movie that it almost muted out the voices in their head.

They were really good for that. Alex seemed to just know when they needed support, and his friends noticed the changes in their behavior just as quickly. For a moment they thought everything was going to be okay.

Until it wasn't.

It was the week before finals. Everyone had been studying so much that they hardly had time to see each other. Y/N was in the worst emotional state that they had been in a long time.

The voice was constantly hanging over them, reminding them how much of a failure they were, how they'd never succeed. It whispered thoughts in their ears and made them feel alone. Its darkness had gripped on to them like a snake and was not letting go.

They were in their room, attempting to study for their history exam. The voice was rambling like always, never giving them a moment of peace.

'I just had a thought. So you know how your dad left you when you were a kid, and your mom died? And we both now that your so-called friends don't really love you at all, and wouldn't even notice if you left. So what if you just...disappear?'

Y/N stopped writing at this and glared up at it. "Shut up." They mumbled. The voice chuckled and began to circle around them.

'Oh, come on! You don't really think they'd notice if you left this wretched earth, do you? You don't seriously think they'd care?' It paused to take in their reaction, they were beginning to tremble and as their heartbeat sped up.

'Look at you! You're nothing! It's all you've ever been and it's all you ever will be! Nobody loves you, or wants you!! You're worthless! If you really cared about them you'd kill yourself and give them one less mistake in their lives.'

Tears were now running down their cheeks, as sobs quietly fell from their lips. The voice helped them to their feet and led them to the desk. Y/N's hands shook as they opened the drawer and took out the handgun that was in it.

The voice was softer now. It was gentler and welcoming, and simply inviting them to embrace the darkness. 'It's alright. It'll only hurt for a minute, but then you'll be free. You can finally be happy.'

Y/N shook her head, mumbling under their breath. "No. No, don't. Stop. Please, just stop." They cried out.

The voice wrapped its arms around them, and for a moment things were quiet. Things were calm. 'Do this and all your worries will be gone. Do the world a favor. Kill yourself."

"SHUT UP!!!!" Y/N screamed and spun around, they turned and shot at the shadow twice.

BANG BANG!!

The voice laughed out in rage as it looked in the holes in it's form. 'Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?! I'm here with you for the rest of your life, kid!! There's only one way out this, and we both know it!! Come on!!! What are you waiting for!!!! Shoot!!!'

They pressed the gun to their head

**earlier**

Alex smiled at Laurens and Hercules as they starred cluelessly at Lafayette. The Frenchmen was attempting to help them study his native language, but they weren't doing to well.

"Nous commencerons avec quel que chose simple. Mais, je besoin de savoir quoi tu sais déjà. As tu compris?" The other two simply blinked blankly at him. Alex sighed as Laf groaned and ran a hand through his curls. "You are hopeless!"

John chuckled and leaned forward towards the annoyed Frenchman. "Come on, Laf, you know that you-"

"SHUT UP!!!!!" BANG!! BANG!!!

The group jumped to their feet at the sound of Y/N's screams and the gunshots. The color drained from Alex's face as he heart raced, his body had been paralyzed at the thought of what just happened. Once he finally regained control of his legs, he and the rest of the crew sprinted towards their door.

"Y/N!!!" Alex cried out and attempted to open his Y/S/N bedroom door, only to find that it was locked. He pounded his fist on the door as his mind raced.

What just happened? Is his Y/S/N alive? Why was there gunshots? Were they laying dead on the floor? How the hell did a gun get in their room? IS HIS Y/S/N ALIVE?!?

"Y/N! Answer the door!! Open up!! Please, talk to me!!!" Alexander pleaded, his voice begun to crack as his breath became labored.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. D-Don't make m-me do this. St-stop. STOP IT!!"

A wave of slight relief washed over him as he heard Y/N's sobs from inside the room. But now he had a new problem: Who were they talking to and what were they forcing them to do?

"Mon Cher, who are you talking to? Let us in, we can help you. Just let us in." Lafayette asked, somehow remaining calm at the moment. The sobs only became louder, making Alex panic even more.

He turned to Laurens and Hercules. "Knock down the door. I don't know what's going on, but is not good." The two men nodded.

"Y/N, sweetie, I need you to step away from the door. We're coming in." Hercules warned before taking steps back with John.

"Don't. Leave me alone. Just leave...please. I just want it to end. It never stops. N-Never stops." At those words, Alex nodded at his friends and they charged at the door.

The moment it came down, they all fell into the room and froze at the sight. There stood Y/N, the Y/G who they all saw as a younger Y/S/N, tears streaming down their face, their body shaking like a leaf, as they held a gun to the side of their head.

Alexander couldn't even begin to form words at the moment, scared that any little movement would cause them to pull the trigger.

"P-Please. I-I don't want y-you to have t-to watch this. L-Leave me a-alone, let m-me finish this."

Laurens was the first to swallow the lump in his throat and raised his hands in surrender as he met the broken Y/G's eyes. "We're not going to leave you. You don't have to do this. We can help you through this. You're not alone. We are here with you."

Y/N visibly crumbled as agonizing cries poured out of them. "I'm just so, so tired. I sick of being numb. I'm sick of living! Why can't you see that!! I just want it to stop! It never stops!!!" They pushed the gun harder against their skull.

Hercules was the next to jump into action. "What never stops? What's going on? You have to talk to us, hon. Tell us what's happening." He began and took a small step towards them, causing them to take a step back.

"The voices! They're always there. Th-They never shut up! They tell me that I'm worthless. That nobody wants me or loves. No one would care if I left." They explained glaring at the space beside the boys where they presently saw the shadow standing.

They shook their head at this before standing straighter. "It's the only way to make it go away! The only to finally be free! I need to do this, I need this to end!!"

"I would care," Laf mumbled, there was a moment of silence as he took a step towards them. "Herc would care. John would care. The Schuyler's would morn for days! Hell, I'm pretty sure the entire school would be silent in shock. Most importantly Alexander would fall apart. Look at him! Look at how scared he is, right now. If you fire that gun, you might as well shoot him too, cause if you go down you'd be taking him down with you."

Both Alex and Y/N shivered at the thought of it. Alexander finally looked up to meet the other Hamilton's eyes. Tears streamed down both of their cheeks. "A-Alex?" They hiccuped.

He sniffed and began walking towards them. "Y/N...please. Please, d-don't do this. I'm sorry for not seeing it sooner. I'm sorry for not showing you how much I love you. J-Just, please. D-Don't leave me. Y-You're all I-I have left J-Just st-stay alive, that would be enough."

They shakily began to lower the gun, nodding their head in agreement. He rushed towards them, wrapping his arms around their broken body. Y/N let out shaky cries into their brother's shoulder as their legs gave out beneath them.

Alexander hushed and comforted them, as he gently took the gun out of their hand, and held it out behind him for one of the boys to grab.

Laf quickly took it, and emptied it of any ammunition, nodding at the others. They all rushed over to the broken pair and wrapped their arms around them.

"It's alright. Things are going to get better, you're not alone."

"We're here, we're not going to leave you. We're going to help you fight this. You're strong enough to conquer this. I believe in you."

"You are so beautiful and so strong. You can do anything you put your mind to. We love you so much. This is only temporary, things are going to get better."

"I know you are going through a hard time, and it seems like things will never get better, but I promise they will. You have to believe they will. You have believed there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and you have to fight for it. Please fight for it. Fight for us, but most important fight for yourself and for your own happiness. Because nothing's going to change unless you start doing this for yourself. We'll be right beside you the entire journey, here to support you when you're ready, but I need you to believe in yourself. And believe that you can be happy again. Can you do that?"

They nodded her head as Alex pressed a kiss to the top of their forehead. "That's my Y/G. You're going to get through this. I believe in you."

AN: If you guys ever get to this point, please don’t be afraid to reach out for help. It doesn’t make you weak, and it won’t make people hate you if anything they’ll be happy that you’re reaching out instead of suffering alone.

Please if you ever get to this point, know that you’re not alone, and reach out. The kids help phone number is 1-800-668-6868 The suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255 There’s a text version now if you don’t like talking on the phone, I know I personally don’t. All you have to do is text “START” to 741-741

There is help out there, you can get through this. Please know that the best is yet to come, and you still have an entire life full of new beginnings and adventures out there. Please don’t make this the end when it’s only the beginnning.

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surveysonfleek · 7 years ago

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697.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 44 4201. Has your life lacked a miracle? i mean... not really. it’s my fault for not having the greatest motivation. 4202. Would you shoot a terrorist? if i had a gun and they were attacking people, then yes. otherwise i’d call the cops first. 4203. Were you an unlovely child? probably the opposite, i was very loud and talkative as a kid. 4204. In the recent Michael Jackson documentary was he treated fairly? haven’t seen any mj docs in years tbh. 4205. New York City and other places along the East Coast have recently been said to be the next terrorist targets. What do you think about this? this is a really old survey, so i’m taking this with a grain of salt.

4206. What should the last question in this survey be? not sure lol. 4207. Are you more likely to think so deeply about things that you forget to take out the garbage OR be wrapped up in your life and forget to think deeply about things? the first one. 4208. In what ways are you destructive? that i’m not thinking about the future enough. 4209. If you're not with the one you love can you love the one you're with? for me, no. 4210. Why is it that when you hang upside down the blood rushes to your head but when you stand up the blood doesn't rush to your feet? i actually have no idea. 4211. Do you demand a better future? sure. 4212. Does it make you uncomfortable to meet a person with a handicap or deformity (retarded, deaf, lacking a limb, etc.)? no? why would it. 4213. What did you think of the movie Vanilla Sky? never seen it. 4214. What is your favorite thing to dip into fondue? depends on what kind of fondue. 4215. Are you moe like Wayne or Garth? neither. 4216. SNL or Mad TV? neither. 4217. Best three REM songs: i can only name two tbh. 4218. Name something you do that might be considered eccentric: i’ve been into this paint by sticker thing lately. time consuming but fun lol. 4219. Are you hard or easy to love? pretty easy i’d like to think. 4220. Could you be the next american idol? no because 1. i cant sing and 2. i’m not american. 4221. If you were going on american idol what would you: wear? n/a sing? 4222. Is Simon Cowell sexy or does he suck? he is definitely not sexy to me lol. 4223. What was the last thing you used a credit card for? a christmas present lol. 4224. Do you like back or foot massages more? back. 4225. If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow why oh why can't I? ok. 4226. Why do teachers always want blue or black ink? well tbh i’d hate it if i had to read papers written in red or something light. 4227. What do you keep your change in? my wallet. 4228. Do you read playgirl or playboy for the articles? no. 4229. Are you old fashioned? In what ways? not at all. 4230. If you were going to get a mentor who would your top three choices be (out of everyone alive)? casey neistat, rihanna and oprah. 4231. Would you rather visit France or Thailand? i’ve been to france so probably thailand. 4232. You love your partner but they are a slob. They aren't likly to change. Your thoughts: i honestly cannot bear to live with a slob, so i’d have to talk to them about my concerns and get them to change their ways or i’ll probably just snap and leave them. 4233. Is anything brainwashing people? probably. How/in what ways? the media in general, being picky with what and how they portray world issues. 4234. If you were a sex psitols song which one would you be (some choices in case you aren't familiar with them: Holiday in the Sun, Bodies, No Feelings, Liar, Problems, Seventeen, Pretty Vacant, New York, E.M.I.)? i don’t know any of their songs. 4235. Are you more likely to drink moderately and often or drink within an inch of your life but only once in a while? i only really ever drink to get drunk. so not often at all. 4236. What scares you most about war? how it’ll affect my family and friends around the world. 4237. You find a man with wings (an angel?) half dead in your back yard. the first thing you do is: if someone’s home with me i’d get them asap. or i’d at least take a pic/video from afar then probably call the cops lol. i’d be too scared to check up on them myself. 4238. Why do people go to faith healers when there is so much proof that they are fake? some people just need a little hope sometimes. it’s just unfortunate that these fakes take advantage of them and take their money. 4239. When someone you care about is really angry with you how do you feel and how do you deal with that feeling? i feel pretty shitty. if it’s my fault i’ll do my best to make it up to them. 4240. There's a guy who sometimes get violent with his wife. He will scream 'I LOVE you!' While he hurts her. Do you think there could be any love there? hell no, i don’t think anyone should hurt someone they love... 4241. Name at least three things that make you want to cry. idk. 4242. Is John Malkovitch sexy? Is Billy Corgan? no to all. Is Michael Stipe? Is Moby? Is Sinead O'Connor? 4243. Imagine there's a lepper and he wants to be cured but instead of going away his sores sprout sunflowers? Would that be a miracle? Would that tell you anything about anything? i’d be freaked out. 4244. Do you watch people? sometimes. 4245. Do you have anything that doesn't belong to you? yes. 4246. what is normal? whatever you think it is. 4247. You are given your own private island. What would you name it, and who is allowed to live there with you? i’d name it after me and only my family, boyfriend and friends are allowed to live there lol. 4248. How can you prevent war? i don’t think i can tbh. How can we all prevent it? write to the government. 4249. If something is wrong in society and you don't like it butr you do nothing about it, i a way aren't you supporting it? no, i feel like supporting it is more about agreeing and spreading the word about it. 4250. Do you like Leslie Nielson? idk them. 4251. If you could make a new toothpaste flavor what would it be? apple. 4252, Have you ever called the police or the fire department? yes. Why and what happened? called the cops once coz there was a huge fight in broad daylight, called the fire department because i was driving home from work one night and a random tree was ablaze. 4253. What's more important, freedom or security and why? for me, security. i don’t really like facing the unknown without security. 4254. Who pays most of the taxes, rich people, or average people or poor people? everyone is basically paying the same cut. Who should pay the most? politicians lol. 4255. You are on the weakest link with these contestants: a monkey, Simon Coswell, Hayden Christensen, Cher, a guy in a teenage mutant ninja turtle costume and GW Bush. Who do you vote off as the weakest link and why? the monkey because it’s not human. 4256. Do you like: mint skittles? never tried. mint ice cream? sometimes. junior mints? never tried. 4257. Does protesting/demonstrating really have any effect? yes. it spreads the word and gives people a platform to protest something they are passionate about. 4258. After the world demonstrated against war with Iraq, Saddam was quoted as saying america was 'weak and isolated'. Do you believe this is so? i don’t know... i don’t know enough to comment. 4259. Have you ever wanted to be with someone who was off limits? no. 4260. Have you ever wanted someone so badly that you would kiss your hand imagining it was them? haha no. 4261. Are there any situations when cheating on someone is okay? only if you had some sort of agreement with your partner to be in an open relationship but then again it wouldn’t be classified as ‘cheating’. so idk. 4262. When you feel empty inside what do you fill yourself up with? Where does it come from? sleep. 4263. Would you rather be loved or desired? loved. 4264. When you remember something do you remember yourself to be more or less graceful/positive/smooth than you actually were? none? 4265. How can you tell the days of the week apart without using a calander? Are your days really different or all the same? just by comparing it with the dates and days of this week. 4266. Who started punk rock? idk. Who started goth? Who started hip hop? 4267. What 3 things about you have shaped your life the most? my family and upbringing, my boyfriend and my education. 4268. Is your mind awake? yes. Is your soul? yes. Were they always? i guess so. If not, can you remember a moment or a few moments that helped you wake up? 4269. Have you ever misperceived what was going on only to discover it when it was too late? not that i can think of. 4270. Do you understand the human heart? no. 4271. How important is your weight? How important is your partner's weight? important. and not super important for my partner, as long as they’re healthy. 4272. What color is the wind? nothing. 4273. Do you believe children or adults know more? adults for the most part. 4274. Do you believe you are crazy? no. 4275. Did you predict the ending to Joe Millionaire? Is there something you care about less than you care about Joe Millionaire? don’t remember. 4276. Snow blower or shovel? neither because it doesn’t snow here. 4277. List everything you ate in the last 24 hours? tuna, crackers, nutella sandwich, chicken, broccoli and rice. 4278. Have you ever plagerized? no. If yes, what and why? did you get caught? **** No one could act in that daredevil movie. The script sucked as well. This is not a question. **** 4279. Who specifically annoys you? my boyfriend. 4280. What is your favorite blanket like? i don’t really have a favourite. 4281. How do you feel about teachers coming on to their students? Students coming on to their teachers? both wrong. 4282. In what ways do you keep yourself entertained? youtube, netflix, surveys, reading. 4283. Entertainers (musicians, sports players) are the highest paid people in america. Why are we so obsessed with being entertained? it’s just part of society. 4284. Do you want a perfect body? i wish. 4285. Do you want a perfect soul? no. 4286. Which do you want more? body. 4287. Do you want people to notice when you're not around? huh? 4288. Are you more of a creep, a wierdo or special? none. 4289. Who wrote the bible? the disciples. 4290. Who wrote the book of love? what is the book of love? 4291. Who put the bomp in the bomp ba bomp ba bomp? idk. 4292. Who rocks the party that rocks the party? idk. 4293. If you could pick 5 things to study with no limits what 5 things would you pick? space, i.t., history, geography and science. 4294. Do you study any of them on your own? no. 4295. What's more important, learning or getting the hell out? learning. 4296. What is your favorite highlighter color? purple. 4297. Give everyone some advice: be the best version of yourself. 4298. Are you practically perfect in every way? no. 4299. Are you nasty and tricksy? no. 4300. Where is the precious? idk.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

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saywhatjessie · 8 years ago

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Queer Eye for the “Straight” Guy

FINALLY, six months after I was commissioned, this thing is done.

I’m truly sorry to my donation winner, Cindy. Lord knows you never asked to put up with my procrastinating ass.

But I’m truly happy with how this turned out! And I hope you, Cindy, and the rest of y'all are too! This work is a part of the Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Check out some other cool works and support these charities this movement helps!

(Read on AO3)

Never had Castiel been checked out with such scrutiny.

The man walked around him, eyes slowly dragging over his body, just on this side of appreciative. They were green and critical under contemplative eyebrows, pushed together to form a crease in the middle that Castiel kind of wanted to poke. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, his thumb playing with his lower lip as he circled.

Castiel just stood, arms loose at his sides, posture normal which was to say terrible. He watched the man watching him.

“Well,” the man said, facing Castiel but also kind of facing the large camera he’d brought with him. “The suit is awful but we can work with it. Are you sure I can’t talk you out of the trench coat?”

Castiel shook his head, his mouth grim.

The man sighed. “Well, I’ll figure something out.”

He then explained to Castiel some of what he was going to be doing. Usually the exposition would take place among the five men who hosted, but Castiel understood this was a special case. The usual five men to do the job was now one.

“Hi, and welcome to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy : celebrity edition. Where instead of the Fab Five, who are all experts in their fields, you have me, Dean Winchester, a bisexual hockey player who is slightly above average at these things.”

Castiel was, in this scenario, ‘the straight guy.’ He supposed that description fit simply by process of elimination. He knew he wasn’t gay because he did not wish to have sex with men. He didn’t particularly want to have sex with women but he liked them well enough: enjoyed the softness of their lips when they’d kissed him and liked their smell and general company.

So yes, Castiel could be the straight guy.

Although Dean Winchester’s shoulders looked very nice…

“Today’s victim is Castiel Novak: world renowned entymologist specializing in honey bees. His latest research publication is receiving all kinds of awards so he’s going to have a little celebration tonight. That’s where I’m here to help.”

“Okay, Cas, it may only be me, but I’ve still got some hired guns to help me move shit – er – junk around your apartment.” Dean turned to a woman wearing headphones. “Do I have to say that again?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “If you would, please.”

Dean sighed and repeated himself, this time leaving out the swear word.

This was all far too much production for Castiel. He preferred quiet libraries or the gentle hum of apiaries to the clapboards and shouted instructions of a television set.

“A necessary evil “his agent had called it. “ How do you expect to get more funding, Castiel, if no one cares about your research?”

Castiel had thought this quite unfair and demonstratively untrue. Plenty of people cared about his research! Students and… kindergarten teachers…

Castiel supposed those groups didn’t pay very much. He may have seen Meg’s point.

He didn’t know why that meant he had to be involved with a reality show, though. He glowered at the camera.

Dean smiled at him, unaffected. “I have given the crew my instructions so now I can whisk you away for a fun makeover montage.”

Castiel turned his glower on Dean.

He winked. “Yes, you’re very scary. Let’s go.”

Castiel experienced neither ‘fun’ nor a ‘montage’ as the case went as neither he nor Dean had very much patience with it. For all Dean’s schmoozing of the cameras, he was really rather straightforward with the entire enterprise.

“We need to shave your face,” he told Castiel, the scrutinizing-eyebrow-crease back and better than ever. “I get how this mountain-man hairiness might work with your nature-science thing but we’re trying to get you sponsors for your research so we have to make you look hot.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You don’t like the beard?”

Dean smirked, looking away. The tips of his ears turned red. “It doesn’t matter what I like. We’re going for mainstream good looks. Which I know you have underneath all… that.”

Castiel frowned. “You just gestured to all of me.”

Dean smirked again and winked. “Exactly. Let’s get ‘er done.”

Dean took him to his favorite barber: a rather large, rough-looking man named Benny.

Castiel turned to Dean, gesturing toward Benny’s face. “Benny has a beard.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Benny also has an accent and can get away with it.”

Castiel turned to Benny who smiled, slow and easy. “Trust me, brother, you can get away with anything when you sound like a hot bowl o’ gumbo.”

Benny’s accent was cajun, which, Dean was right: it definitely went with the beard.

But still, Castiel wanted to make a point.

“Could I keep the beard if I spoke exclusively like this?” he asked in Russian.

Dean’s face burned bright red but he showed no comprehension for what Castiel had said.

He repeated himself in English but with a thick Russian accent.

The blush was extending down Dean’s neck. Benny was eying him with a massive grin. He whistled. “Hooo, cher, looks like you really got into somethin’ here.”

Dean shook himself slightly and shoved his friend. “Shut up, Benny.”

He turned to Cas, not quite making eye contact. “Yeah, you could probably get away with a lot with that accent but,” He cleared his throat into his fist, looking Cas in the eye again, as if steeling himself. “We’re still shaving you. You can always grow it back later.”

Castiel scowled, collapsing in Benny’s chair like a petulant child.

Benny chuckled, immediately bringing his hands up to to sift through Castiel’s hair.

It had been a while since anyone had touched him like this – or at all, really. He let himself enjoy Benny’s gentle fingers. His eyes slipped closed.

“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me yet, cher.” Benny shook Castiel’s head a little, as if to bring him back to wakefulness. “We’ve still gotta wash ya.”

Castiel hummed, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and led over to the wash sinks. But with the warm water and Benny’s gentle fingers massaging his scalp, he felt himself drift again.

He wasn’t so unaware, however, that he couldn’t hear. “You alright there, Dean?” Benny said, a smile in his voice. “Need me to get the smellin’ salts?”

“Man, shut the fuck up.” Castiel’s eyes were still closed but he had a feeling Dean’s ears were going red again.

“I’m just sayin’,” Benny added, “I remember how you was after Mashkov.”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow. “Mashkov? Alexei Mashkov? That hockey player?”

Dean snorted. “Yes, Cas, the hockey player. Which makes sense since I am also, you know, a hockey player.”

Castiel made a noise in his throat in response to Dean’s tone. It made his next words perhaps harsher than he’d meant them. “Yes, but I’ve actually heard of Mashkov.”

The silence that followed was not a happy one. Castiel peeked one eye open, spying Dean in the corner looking hurt.

Damn.

“I just mean with the news a couple years ago,” Castiel tried to correct. “With him being the first NHL player to come out. It was a big deal.”

Dean rolled his eyes but his shoulders relaxed slightly, though he still looked hurt when Castiel closed his eyes again. Castiel allowed Benny to tilt his head back.

Dean said, “Actually it was Parson who came out first. Mashkov got dragged into it because they’re together and Zimmermann was kind of outed by default.”

Castiel said nothing. Only some of those names were familiar to him.

Dean continued to explain at Castiel’s silence. “Because of the rumors of Zimms and Parse in the Q? Before the overdose?”

Castiel said nothing.

“Whatever, it’s not important.”

Castiel peeked his eye open again to see Dean with his arms crossed, his face set in what Castiel wouldn’t hesitate to call a pout.

He would hesitate to call that pout ‘adorable’ but only barely.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. “Dean, please don’t be offended. I obviously know more about Mashkov because he’s Russian.”

Dean grunted but said nothing else. Castiel let him sulk and relaxed into Benny’s fingers.

The cut and shave really weren’t as bad as Castiel had made them out to be, the lack of hair making him feel immediately cleaner and more free.

It helped that by the time he was finished, Dean seemed to be over whatever upset he’d had and blushed pleasantly pink again at the sight of him, staying pink while they said goodbye to Benny and headed for the clothing store Dean selected. Castiel rather liked Dean’s appreciation, delighting in every blush and stammer. It was nice to have someone so handsome think Castiel as someone worthy to be ogled.

“Give me your coat.”

Castiel appreciated Dean just a little bit less.

Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel’s glower. “Come on, man, I thought we were past this.” He held out his hand. “Give me your trench coat so I can hand it over to the tailors. I told you you could keep it but it still needs to be revamped. Or cleaned at the very least.”

Castiel frowned but relinquished his coat. Dean grinned.

“Excellent!” He handed the coat off to a random crew member. Castiel assumed it would go where it needed to. Castiel trusted Dean wouldn’t just throw it in a dumpster. “Now about the suit…”

Dean circled Castiel again, a reprise of the earlier inspection. He plucked at the lapel making a face of disgruntled curiosity. “Why do you even wear this? Aren’t you in libraries and hives and shit all day?”

The woman in headphones said nothing about the swear this time. Castiel figured they’d just cut this part in post-production. “I don’t usually wear the suit. I was under the impression that I was to dress up for the party. I was trying to save time.”

If this had been a normal episode of Queer Eye , they would have already known this. They would have already gone through Castiel’s wardrobe and torn it apart, throwing away everything they found unsuitable.

But there was only one of Dean and they were on a time crunch. They hadn’t gotten to tearing up Castiel’s apartment at all; Dean had just told some men to move furniture around.

Dean raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “Well your time-saving efforts were wasted because there’s no way I’m letting you wear this.” Castiel grunted, annoyed. “What do you usually wear?”

Castiel shrugged, not liking the feeling of his shoulders moving without the comfortable weight of his coat. “I usually wear jeans because they’re comfortable to sit in for long periods of time and tough enough to ward off stray stingers.”

Dean nodded, circling Castiel again, eyes on his legs this time. His eyebrows were hunched together in frustration once more, probably over the terrible fit of Castiel’s dress pants.

“I imagine these jeans aren’t fitted, right? They’re like farm jeans?”

“I’m not sure what about the jeans qualifies them to be adequately ‘farm’ but I imagine that description is accurate.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, jeans are probably a good idea. We can put you in fitted jeans. I’m thinking the kind that look sorta faded over the front, you know what I mean? Hopefully you’ve got legs under there.”

“Of course I have legs.” Castiel said, perplexed.

Dean shook his head again, smiling.

“Shirt?”

Castiel took a moment to understand Dean was asking him about what he usually wore with his ‘farm jeans.’

“Sweaters, mostly. T-shirts if it’s warm. And my coat.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “The trench coat? All the time?”

Castiel nodded solemnly.

Dean threw up his hands in an exasperated sort of way but let it go. “I think we’re going to leave you in a dress shirt. Not white, maybe a pale blue, to match your eyes.”

Castiel blushed. He shouldn’t have: there was nothing unusual about Dean making a comment on his appearance. That was why he was there, after all. But there was something about the way Dean mentioned his eyes that embarrassed Castiel. Embarrassed him and made his stomach squirm pleasantly.

“A vest too, I think.” Dean continued, thankfully not looking at Castiel’s face, allowing time for the blush to fade.

Castiel cleared his throat. “Like a sweater vest?”

Dean did look at Castiel’s face now, an expression of mild horror twisting his mouth. “Dude, no! Like one of those fancy vests that buttons in the front.” He gestured with his hands over his torso, as if to help Castiel visualize what he was talking about. “The kind you can keep a pocket watch in.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You mean a waistcoat?”

Dean snapped his fingers. “That’s it! A waistcoat.” He paused. “How did you know what it was called.”

Castiel just shrugged again, leaving it at that.

Dean eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer before continuing on to discuss ties.

Dean didn’t know the technical terms for a lot of things. The ‘faded’ looking jeans he was talking about were called medium-wash, and he wanted a boot cut but all he could tell the store clerks was, ‘not those kind that look like they’re gonna strangle his ankles, you know?’ He knew what he wanted based on the look of things and he knew what he wanted the outfit to look like but describing it to the actual professionals was a bit all over the place.

“There’s going to be a lot of blue going on,” he told Castiel as they browsed through belts. “Light blue shirt, darker blue vest – er, waistcoat – and blue jeans. I don’t want too many blacks and whites because I think the main contrast should be between the trench coat and the outfit underneath.”

Castiel startled a bit, focusing on Dean’s face. “My trench coat?”

Dean looked at Castiel as if he were stupid. “Yeah, man. You were really insistent on it. If you’re going to wear it, it should look good with the rest of the outfit and not, like, an afterthought or something.”

Castiel considered that. He never thought about what the trench coat would look like with the rest of his outfit. It wasn’t as if it were an afterthought, it was just that Castiel wore the trench coat. Always. Period. He had just accepted that whatever outfit he wore underneath would look how it looked and there was nothing that he could do about it. It was the outfit that was the afterthought, not the trench coat.

“The trench coat is tan which is like brown so we can’t put you in black,” Dean continued, turning his attention back to the belts, skimming his hands past the black ones. “Because that wouldn’t match. Or something. Also black is too harsh and you’re already super striking, we want to soften you up a little.”

Castiel tilted his head, a smile quirking his lips. “You think I’m striking?”

Dean jerked his head back around to Castiel’s face. “What? No. I mean, yeah, but I meant striking like eye-catching. It’s not my opinion it’s coloring. I mean. Because your eyes and your hair? You know?”

Castiel laughed, ducking his head. “It’s okay, Dean. Tell me about the belts.”

Dean nodded, clearing his throat and avoiding Castiel’s eyes. “Yeah, okay.” And they continued choosing a belt.

Things kept going smoothly, Dean talking about what he was doing mostly for the camera. He didn’t seem to need much input from Castiel so Castiel reserved himself for observing, mostly. Dean’s face had settled into that same expression as the initial judgement: eyebrows lowered, mouth pursed, hand coming up periodically to play with his bottom lip. Castiel dubbed it the ‘thinking face,’ watching as Dean would set fabrics against each other and dismiss certain colors or patterns completely. Dean’s expression would change only when he would turn and ask Castiel a question – his opinion on one tie over another or his usual preference in fit. Dean looked at Castiel with a certain amusement or perhaps fondness that lightened his otherwise hard ‘thinking face’. Even when he was exasperated, there was a corner of a smile flirting with the edge of Dean’s lips.

“We have a theme here, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes, not unkindly. “Blue and brown.”

“Yes, Dean, we have a theme,” Castiel answered, trying not to crush the tie in his hands so as not to wrinkle the fabric. “The theme is me. And I like bees.”

Dean sighed, dropping his head to his chest. “I’m not letting you wear a bee-patterned tie to a formal affair, Cas.”

Castiel frowned, trying to stare Dean into submission. Dean took his stare like a champ, unwavering.

They stood like that, neither willing to back down. Finally, Dean brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, letting loose an bereaved sigh. “Why don’t we come back to ties. Shoes are next.”

Castiel didn’t want to put the tie down, certain one of Dean’s people would make sure it was gone by the time they came back. Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t object to Castiel bringing the tie with them to shoes.

“So for the apiaries, do you wear work boots?” Dean asked, trying to alleviate some tension.

Castiel grunted before answering. “Sometimes. I usually just wear my crocs out, though. They’re more convenient.”

Dean stopped, turning to Castiel, face expressionless.

Castiel looked back, unnerved. “What?”

Dean just shook his head, checked the size on a pair of brown wingtips, and carried the shoes with them away from shoes.

Dean was silent until they’d made their way to hosiery. “Okay,” he started, releasing a large sigh. “Okay, I think I might have a compromise.”

Castiel raised his eyebrow, an invitation for Dean to continue.

“I’m not going to let you wear a bee-patterned tie,” Castiel opened his mouth to object but Dean held up a hand to stop the interruption. “But,” he continued, “If I can get you to wear a subtler tie – maybe blue with dull yellow accents of some kind – you can wear bee-patterned socks.”

Castiel squinted at him, still clutching the tie. “No one will see my socks.”

Dean tipped his head in acknowledgement. “The socks will not be as visible but wearing these shoes,” He dangled the wingtips. “And if we roll up the cuffs of your jeans, you’ll be showing plenty of ankle. Bee covered ankle.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes further, scanning Dean’s face for some kind of duplicity. He found nothing but open concession, if a little grudging.

Dean smiled, cocky. He held out his hand for the bee-patterned tie.

Castiel handed it over. Dean’s smile widened. “Excellent! I asked intern Claire to find us some tasteful bee dress socks. Claire?”

A young blonde girl stepped forward, rolling her eyes at Dean’s dramatics. “For you, Hasselhoff.”

Dean laughed. “Thank you, Lady Snark.”

She snorted, stepping back behind the camera’s vision with the headphone lady.

The socks were navy blue with a subtle honeycomb pattern, bee line art at the intersection of the honeycomb. Castiel really liked them.

“Can I have multiple pairs of these?”

Dean laughed, louder than Castiel had heard him laugh yet. “Claire, any other pairs?”

Claire nodded, a small smile flitting over her face, before whisking away to fetch more socks.

The tie they found wasn’t as perfect (because it didn’t have bees on it) but the subtle gold honeycomb pattern appeased both Castiel’s and Dean’s preferences.

Though he lamented the tie, Castiel was happy that they were done, at the very least, before Dean led him toward the back of the store where the dressing rooms were. “I need you to try on the shirt, pants, and vest so I can see if they need to be tailored.”

“Waistcoat.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Castiel swallowed a groan as he took the offending objects from Dean. There was a reason he wore all the same clothes he’d had since college: shopping was exhausting.

It wasn’t the full ensemble as Castiel hadn’t yet put on any of the accessories but Dean still scanned him appreciatively when he stepped out. “Goddamn, I’m amazing,” he said, seemingly to himself.

“We do need to take in the bottom of your jeans, though,” he continued, circling, his eyes lingering on how the denim shaped Castiel’s thighs. “And whatever else the actual professional tailor thinks he should take in. Balth?”

The tailor in question stepped forward, winking at Castiel, before sinking down to measure and chalk Castiel’s jeans.

Castiel watched Dean as the tailor worked. Dean only seemed to be sneaking glances at Castiel and otherwise stared at his nails or rocked on his toes. Castiel supposed watching someone be fitted wasn’t very exciting.

“I have a question,” he started. Dean looked over at him, eyebrow raised. “You seem to know what looks good and what doesn’t which is better than I can say,” Dean snorted but smiled. “And yet you don’t have much knowledge on the technical aspect of things.”

Dean shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, I never really had time to read fashion magazines as a kid, you know? When I wasn’t training for hockey I was working at my uncle’s body-shop fixing junkers.” Dean laughed, dropping his head back to lean against the wall. “Before I went pro and had to start dressing for press and stuff, it was really rare to find me out of athletic gear, coveralls, or my dad’s old leather jacket.”

Castiel laughed as well, quickly banishing the unexpected image of Dean in greasy coveralls, rolled down to the waist, Only a white tank top on underneath, also covered in grease.

“So you’re saying style isn’t just inherent to a queer identity?”

Dean laughed again like a bark. “Ha! No, it totally is. I’ve always known what looked good, I just never learned the names for shit.”

There was an exasperated sigh from the woman in headphones. Castiel ignored her. “And in high school? When you dressed terribly?”

Dean shrugged. “We do what we have to when we’re in the closet, you know?”

Castiel frowned but was prevented from responding by Balth, who shooed him back into the dressing room so he could change out of the outfit.

Dean was all business again when he came back out. “Now, normally, we’d pick a bunch of different pieces for you to choose from for the event and to help you dress better in the future but we don’t have time for that! So instead: this is your outfit. We’ll leave Balthazar’s card with you in the hopes you’ll tailor the rest of your wardrobe so the world can actually see your body,” Dean’s eyes raked over him, quickly but noticeably. “But there’s really not much we can do beyond that.”

Castiel nodded, not complaining that this seemed to mean they were done shopping.

“Now, while your clothes are fixed, we’re going to head over to The Roadhouse just up the street. A friend of mine is letting us use her kitchen.”

Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “Shouldn’t I be learning to cook using my own kitchen?”

Dean snorted, reaching out to clap Castiel on the shoulder and gently steer him out the door. “We do not have time for that.” Dean patted his shoulders a couple times more before letting his hands drop. Castiel found himself missing them. “The producers wanted to scrap this part entirely but this was the bit I was most excited about so I called in a few favors to make sure we could fit it in.”

Castiel couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “You enjoy cooking?”

Dean smiled, grabbing at Castiel’s arm again so he could better keep up with Dean’s long strides. “Yeah, man. Cooking dinner kind of fell to me growing up, so I figured if I was doing it anyway I might as well have fun with it.”

Castiel nodded, his focus mostly on the point of contact on his forearm where Dean was gripping him.

The Roadhouse was one of those small-town bars you might see on tv: always a bar-stool open, worn but well-maintained, a place where everybody knows your name. Castiel briefly imagined himself at one of those barstools before Dean pulled him directly through, without pausing, to the kitchen.

There was an industrial kind of set-up and appliances that Castiel did not understand but Dean seemed completely unconcerned, surpassing all of the fancy things and pulling out a medium sized skillet.

“Now, for everything I’m going to teach you to make – and really for most things you’re going to make in your life – all you’re going to need is a good knife, a spatula, and a decently sized skillet.”

Watching Dean cook was mesmerizing. His movements were fluid, his posture relaxed. The tension that had held his shoulders while they were shopping had completely melted away, allowing Dean to smile more and season with confidence.

Castiel knew Dean was speaking – ostensibly trying to teach him – but he was so caught up in the performance of it he didn’t take in a word. He wondered if Dean played hockey in this same easy, satisfied way. He made a mental note to turn on a game sometime.

It was traditional for Ted Allen of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to teach his subjects how to make simple and tasty dishes to serve at a party. Dean went on to show Castiel how to make cheeseburger sliders, omelette crostinis, stuffed mushrooms, and, for some reason, pasta carbonara.

“This one isn’t a very party-friendly dish,” Castiel noted between forkfuls. It was really quite good.

Dean shrugged, swallowing his own mouthful and licking at a bit of sauce on his thumb. Castiel tracked the movement involuntarily.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you’re making any of this food tonight anyway.”

Castiel’s eyes flicked from Dean’s mouth back up to his eyes. “What?”

“I mean, I told you the producers wanted to cut this part. We’re having your event catered.”

Castiel tilted his head. Dean smiled around another forkful of pasta.

“So then why bother teaching me at all?”

Dean rolled his eyes, talking with his mouth full. “Because it’s a useful fucking skill. And I wanted to.” He swallowed and added, “And this food is delicious so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Castiel ducked his head, grumbling to himself. “Not complaining.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Castiel shot Dean a glare. Dean winked.

The rest of the food that they (Dean) had prepared but the two of them hadn’t eaten was distributed among the crew, Dean’s eyes sparkling at every cameraman’s grunt of approval. The young intern, Claire, came over to sit with Castiel and she and Dean heckled each other while she ate.

The woman in headphones, who Castiel had since learned was named Lisa, approached the three of them as Castiel and Claire watched Dean clean up. “You know you don’t have to do that, Dean.”

Dean just snapped the towel at her. Claire laughed. Lisa just sighed, looking at her clipboard. “Well, we’ve checked off Kyan’s and Carson’s part, and Castiel looks great.” Castiel flushed but nodded his acceptance. Dean pumped his fist. “The guys at Castiel’s apartment say they’re almost done so Thom’s thing is taken care of. You played Ted Allen with your cooking bit.” She shot him a teasingly exasperated look. He snapped the towel again. “So all we have to do is figure out how to incorporate Jai’s culture lessons.”

Dean groaned, slumping dramatically against the counter he had just finished wiping down. “You’re asking for too much, Lis. Cas is clueless about everything.”

Castiel thought he maybe should have been offended but Dean wasn’t wrong. He turned to Lisa curiously.

She sighed, exasperation real this time. “Just make it so he can interact with his guests tonight.” Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Lisa cut him off with a pointed finger. “And talk about something other than bees.”

Castiel’s jaw snapped shut and he pouted. This was going to be a party celebrating his success with bees. He should be allowed to talk about them.

Dean smiled, all lips and eyes. “His experience today is a pretty great talking point if you think about it.”

Castiel nodded seriously. Lisa rolled her eyes and seemingly gave up on them, retreating back to behind the camera line. Claire punched Dean in the shoulder and followed.

Cameras were heaved back onto shoulders and Dean’s smile changed. It was the same easy smile he’d been pulling out all day, paired with winks and claps on shoulders. It was less creasing eyes and more chin and cheeks. Castiel reflected that he must have been staring at Dean a lot in the past hour or so in this kitchen for him to have noticed.

He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed by it.

Lisa gave them the signal for rolling and Dean brought his hands together, loud and flashy.

“Alright, Cas, we’ve given you a new look, now you just need a new personality to go with it.”

Lisa made a buzzer noise. “Nope, try again.”

Dean laughed but repeated his clap. “Alright, Cas, your guests are going to be hooked in by this new look but now we’ve gotta reel them in with some conversation.”

He raised an eyebrow to Lisa off camera as if to say ‘better?’ She nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

They did this part walking back to the tailor, the cameramen walking backwards, stopping at intervals so Dean could teach Castiel about proper eye contact.

Castiel couldn’t imagine what this segment would look like after the final cut. It couldn’t be very interesting watching a grown man teach another grown man how to have a conversation. Besides which, most of the walk turned into Dean and Castiel just… talking. Castiel enjoyed listening to Dean and Dean seemed genuinely interested in learning about Cas and Castiel couldn’t think how this would apply to talking to other people.

Still, Dean proclaimed Castiel a ‘natural’ by the time they arrived.

“I mean, you’re definitely clueless about everything, but you show genuine interest in whatever the other person is talking about, which is really what you need to have a conversation.”

Castiel wasn’t sure he had genuine interest in whatever the ‘other person’ was talking about or if he was just interested in what Dean was talking about. He made an executive decision not to voice that thought.

It was unusual for the Fab Five to stick around once their work was done: you never saw them at the party they had prepared the ‘straight guy’ for. However, because this was a special case, and because Castiel had specifically extended an invitation, Dean was going to stay for the party.

Castiel was relieved. Not only because this would take some focus off of him, but also because he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to Dean yet.

However, he couldn’t help but tease Dean, just a little.

“It’s a shame Alexei Mashkov couldn’t come,” he told Dean, straight-faced, as he struggled with his honeycomb patterned tie in the mirror. “I’m sure you’re a decent player, Dean, but I’d like to wow my guests with someone exceptional.”

Dean barked a laugh, shoving at Castiel’s shoulder and completely messing up the knot Castiel had been working on. “Sure, Cas, I’d like to see Mashkov put up with your grumpy ass.”

Castiel frowned at the mess Dean had made of his knot but yanked it loose without comment. “He and Jack Zimmermann are friends, aren’t they? And Zimmermann is a ‘grumpy ass.’”

Dean’s grin stretched wider as he fiddled with his hair, checking his reflection in the mirror next to Castiel. “You’ve been listening.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgement, deliberately keeping his eyes on his tie. Dean hadn’t changed much for the party: taken off his tie, changed his shirt, and added a pocket square. Dean had stripped off without embarrassment, exposing well muscled arms and a surprisingly cushiony stomach. Castiel didn’t allow himself more than a cursory glance and soon Dean was covered again in a black, silky dress shirt.

The wine colored suit he’d had on for filming looked much more provocative with the dark shirt, collar unbuttoned. Castiel would go so far as to call it sexy.

Castiel also refused to take his eyes off of his necktie.

Dean chattered on, seemingly unaware of Castiel’s distraction. “I’m real happy about how the apartment turned out. I wish I coulda done it myself but you know the time crunch.”

Castiel just hummed again. He couldn’t argue with Dean: he didn’t care much for how it looked but it was comfortable, as he liked it to be. And the way the furniture was arranged and the different colors they had painted the walls did make the space more friendly.

Castiel supposed that was the whole point of this exercise. To be friendlier. More welcoming.

If only he could move around some furniture to fix his personality.

“Jesus fuck.” Castiel startled, finally looking at Dean, who smacked his hands away from his neck. “Just let me tie it. Honestly, how did you survive before me?”

Castiel didn’t comment. It had only been a day, but Castiel was beginning to wonder the same thing.

He thought about what Dean had said that morning. Between introductions and exposition to the camera, he’d given a shout out to some kind of charity organization.

“This collaboration is brought to you by ‘You Can Play’: an organization showing us that if you can play, you can play – whether you’re gay, straight, transgender, bisexual, asexual, or anything in-between.”

Many of those terms were brand new to Castiel. But it didn’t exactly seem relevant to him that morning. Today, he was ‘the straight guy’.

But now he wondered.

“Dean, what you said earlier? In your ‘You Can Play’ pitch?”

Dean had finished with Castiel’s tie and was now buttoning Castiel’s waistcoat, smoothing out the fabric. He answered distractedly. “Yeah, Cas, what about it?”

“Just some of the words you used… I’d never heard them before.” Castiel watched Dean’s face, looking for some sign he was saying the wrong thing.

But Dean just frowned, picking some imaginary lint off of Castiel’s lapel before meeting his eyes. “What words are those?”

Castiel shrugged, trying not to look away in embarrassment. “Well, obviously I knew gay and straight. And you’re bisexual so I kind of know what that one is. And since the Caitlyn Jenner thing I knew about transgenderism…”

Thankfully, Dean picked up on what Castiel was getting at. His face softened. “You mean ‘asexual’ Cas?”

“Yes!” Castiel’s body sagged in his relief. “I know what asexual means in terms of science – plants and amoeba reproduce asexually – but I’ve never heard it applied to humans. You’re telling me it’s a sexual orientation?”

Dean’s face had closed off some when Castiel had mentioned plants but something about his honest curiosity must have spurred him into answering. “I mean, yeah. And, hey, I’m no expert on any of this shit, but my brother Sammy looked into it some when he had an existential crisis back in college. He’s demisexual, which is a kind of offshoot of asexuality.”

Castiel squinted. “Demi from the latin dīmidius, meaning semi or half. So half-sexual?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, man? The way Sam tells it, he only feels sexual attraction if he knows a person first. Like he couldn’t do a one night stand because he can’t get it up unless they exchanged promise rings.”

Castiel nodded, his brain working furiously. “So asexuality…”

“You don’t feel sexual attraction at all. Ever.”

And something in his head went thunk.

“Oh.”

Dean nodded, slipping the newly cleaned trench coat over Castiel’s shoulders and returning to his hair.

This was the absolute worst time for Castiel to have a major life discovery. He had to entertain guests. He had to pull off this new look and seem interesting and confident or else he would embarrass Dean and spoil all of his hard work.

Dean who he did not want to have sex with.

And also Dean who he was attracted to.

Which was apparently a thing.

“Can asexual people be in relationships?”

Dean turned from where he’d been selecting another mini weenie, to raise his eyebrow at Castiel. “‘Scuse me?”

Castiel blushed, aware he’d made some kind of faux pas. “I only mean, if they aren’t interested in people, can they still have romantic relationships?”

Dean snorted. “Uh, yeah, Cas. You can like someone and not want to bone them.”

Castiel blushed darker. “No, of course, I only meant–”

Dean seemed to take pity on him. He steered them both out onto the balcony of Castiel’s apartment, waving at party guests as he went, making glib comments about ‘stealing the man of honor for a bit’.

When they were safely secure on a shadowy portion of the balcony, Dean addressed him. “Cas, what’s going on?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it outright like that but Castiel was never one for subtlety.

Castiel wasn’t sure what Dean had been expecting but he was sure by his expression that it hadn’t been that.

He blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“I’m attracted to you.” Castiel repeated. Dean swallowed. “But not… sexually. Which is apparently a thing people can not feel. Sexual attraction I mean. So I’m not sexually attracted to you but I still… want you. And I don’t know what that means.”

Dean looked gobsmacked, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock.

“I thought you were straight.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They were both quiet, looking at each other, then away, then coming back.

This was clearly a lot for Dean to take in. And Castiel understood: they had only really known each other for a little less than twelve hours. Dean was not responsible for handling Castiel’s gay panic.

And from the way he kept running his hand over his face, he didn’t seem equipped for it.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said hurriedly, taking a physical step back, “this isn’t your problem, I shouldn’t have–”

“No, hey, wait.” Dean reached out, his hand taking residence on Castiel’s shoulder in which was a by now common and comforting gesture. “I know how freaky this must be for you, I want to help.”

Castiel’s eyes felt very wide. He was sure his pulse shouldn’t be that fast.

Dean squeezed his shoulder before letting go, clearing his throat into his hand. He avoided eye contact. “From what I understand,” he started, inspecting his hands, “there is a difference between sexual and romantic attraction. Like, it’s possible to feel one and not the other or neither or both or… I don’t know.”

Dean was clearly uncomfortable. Clearly not used to talking about this. Castiel softened, overcome by Dean’s kindness and compassion. This was a feeling he was familiar with: this feeling like a warmth behind his sternum and tightness of his throat. He felt this emotion with strangers and friends alike. Maybe this was… romantic attraction?

“Most people don’t have to think about their romantic and sexual attraction as separate things because they match up. Gay people feel romantic and sexual attraction for the same sex, straight people for a different sex, yada yada. But with asexuals it’s different because they, or I guess, you?” Castiel nodded tentatively. “You want closeness with someone but not, like, sexual closeness.”

Dean tripped and stumbled over his words but it didn’t even matter. Every sentence rang so true. Castiel felt like doors in his mind were opening, he felt like decades of his personal history were only just now gaining context.

Even today, with Dean. There were moments when Castiel was sure he was missing something, sure there was something about Dean that was eluding him. But it was something about Castiel. When he thought about Dean’s defined face and strong shoulders and soft midway, he appreciated it but abstractly. He thought about Dean’s kind eyes and curling laugh and the tactual hands that always found their way to Castiel’s shoulder, arm, or back. For those features he could write sonnets.

“Fuck,” he said simply, tone flat.

Dean laughed, the sound punched out of him. “Yeah. Or not, as the case may be.”

Castiel looked at him for two beats, and then he collapsed in laughter, coming forward to crush Dean into a hug.

They both smothered their laughter into each other’s necks, Castiel with gratitude and Dean shushing him and stroking his hair.

Castiel became aware he was also stroking over Dean’s hair, his fingers absently playing with the bristles at the back of his neck.

“Dean, will you go on a date with me?”

Dean choked out another laugh, this one a little wetter.

“Geez, Cas, you find out you’re not straight only ten minutes ago and already you’re trying to romance me?”

“Are you not amenable?”

Dean pulled back, smiling at Cas and pulling in to rub their noses together.

“Nah, man, I’m amenable as hell.”

Normally at the end of an episode of Queer Eye , the Fab Five do a quick run down with each other of how the evening went.

This special episode ended with a freeze frame of Castiel and Dean in front of all the guests, holding hands. A title card professing, “Turns out Castiel wasn’t straight. But Dean Winchester still made him look great! Tune in next week for another celebrity episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.*

“* We are not responsible for any sexual awakenings that may occur.”

#oops i wrote a thing #fandom trumps hate #this is so late i hate myelf #Jessie writes Destiel fic #queer eye for the straight guy #destiel #yes it's the au i've been alluding to for months #finally done!#yay!#read the tags on ao3 ain't nobody got time to post them all here

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chwpromoblog · 8 years ago

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CHANEL HOROWITZ. college sophomore; nineteen. kelly gale. OPEN.

and, as cher horowitz once said:

“Okay, so you're probably going, "Is this like a Noxzema commercial or what?" But seriously, I actually have a way normal life for a teenage girl.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

Chanel Horowitz. How can you describe Chanel Horowitz? Simply ask around Rosewood and you’ll hear all kinds of things. Like, her hair’s insured for $10,000 or that Justin Bieber tried to propose to her... and she denied him. But if you ask around, the thing all people could agree on. She was flawless. And she truly was.

But one thing she wasn’t, applied. Everyone in her house was applied and amazing at what it was that they did. Her dad? Her father was one of the most powerful litigators in the Chicago area, and he doesn’t make an effort to try and hide it. Not only that but he made five thousands an hour. And then there was her former step brother, Jasper. Their parents weren’t even divorced anymore, Daddy’s latest marriage had her married into the McNichols family but regardless, her father considered Jasper a family member and compared her to him all the time. Just because he preferred to plant trees with his granola breath friends and wanted to follow in her father’s footsteps and be a lawyer. Char on the other hand, didn’t know what she wanted to be. Other than gorgeous and rich. You see, Chanel could be a bit of a ditz at times. She didn’t understand the concept of trying your best to get the grade you deserve. If Chanel got a C in a class, instead of trying to work her ass off to try and get a better grade, she’d try to argue her way out of it. That’s where she took after her father. She knew how to argue her way out of anything.

But one thing she couldn’t argue herself out of? Going to college. She had graduated from Rosewood Academy and that was an achievement all in itself, that school was like really hard. So she’d told her dad that she was going to work in Paris for a year, she’d managed to get herself a gig as a fashion blogger for Teen Vogue. But her father accused her of spending her days on Avenue des Champs-Élysées, maxing out her credits card or riding on the back of Vespa that belonged to cute French guys... which wasn’t entirely wrong. But when in Paris right? But now she was being forced to return to her old stomping ground and attend Ravenwood University with all the people who would just think of her as a socialite with a credit card.

But maybe she could make the best of this. She only had to go to college, she didn’t even have to become a lawyer. And Dylan was there, it’d just be like Rosewood Academy all over again and with her best friend by her side she could do anything. Plus, there were plenty of people at Ravenwood who needed her help. That was another big trait Chanel held. She actually goes out of her way to help people out. It might not always be the most practical or best ways, but her heart was always completely pure. And yeah, Jasper just thinks that she’s completely selfish in everything that she does but that’s why she took Taissa under her wing. She wanted the girl to have everything she ever wanted. The look on her face when Chanel walked up to her and asked if she wanted to hang out was all she needed to know that she was doing the right thing. Her best friend Dylan wasn’t all for it at first, but when she saw how wonderful Taissa really was, they teamed up to help the girl out. In the meanwhile, showing Jasper that he was very wrong.

She was doing this entirely for Taissa.

DURING THE PARTY;

Chanel showed up to the social event of the year, utterly shocked no one had invited her. Who did these people think they were? She had been invited to far better events than this, but why did she feel so… left out? Chanel noticed Taissa sandwiched between Kurt Kelly and one of his football meathead. And that was definitely a way to bring down her stock. Taissa wasn’t going to become one of the most popular girls at Ravenwood by being seen as a slut. Infamous, yes but popular, no way. Thank goodness, Chanel had arrived the moment she had. Her mission was suddenly clear for the night. It was to make her new friend look exceptional and show her off to the most influential people at the party.

Maybe even a guy that would instantly shot her to the top of the social ladder.

When she reached Taissa, she noticed something was off with her. She was worried but Taissa just shrugged her off, giving her a serious case of cold shoulder. Taissa then proceeded to glare at Chanel and told her to just leave her alone. She wasn’t her mother, she couldn’t tell her what to do. She told her to get her a hold of her own miserable life and stop being a miserable prude, after all that’s why no one had told her about the party. Chanel could smell the alcohol on the girl’s breath. She was piss drunk. But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt nonetheless.

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the two girls and for the worst reason ever. She didn’t need this stupid party, she thought to herself as she walked out of the party, grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels on her way out as a screw you to the party.

She sat outside of the party, she hadn’t realize how late it was and she was emotionally drinking, as she should have been after being humiliated by someone she considered a best friend.. Plus it wasn’t like she could walk all the way in her heels. She tried to call Dylan to see if she could come around and get her, but she didn’t pick up her phone. Who else could she call? Before she could answer her own question, Elton- the guy she was trying to help Taissa impress for weeks now, offered to take her home and wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she simply nodded and stepped into his car.

They had light conversation, that if she’d been sober- she’d notice how his eyes wandered all over her like she was some kind of dog. He pulled the car into a gas station. This definitely wasn’t the Hills. She looked over at him, confused. Before she knew it, he was all over her, pushing himself onto her. She pushed him away, telling him she didn’t feel that way about him. She wasn’t into local boys. She wanted someone well traveled, with at least two properties and wore only the best menswear had to offer. He didn’t care though, he kept on trying with her until she practically fell out of the car.

And as if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d tried to assault her, he drove off. Just leaving her there in some sketchy neighborhood. As she started calling someone to get a ride home, there was a gun held to her head. She started to panic. She didn’t know what to do or say. She thought Illinois was suppose to be a safe state. She just gave him everything he asked for. She only hesitated when he asked for her to lay on the ground so he could get away. How could she ruin her vintage Alia? But he nudged her with the gun back and she did as she was told.

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

#clueless #cher horowitz #rp #rpg #active rp

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always-and-forever-a-killjoy · 4 years ago

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Coming, Coming Home Chapter 3 (Except it’s actually called Building Home now)

Hello fuckers so I impulsively changed the name of my big fic because I have Plans for the title coming home so now it’s called building home, but it’s still the same fic. Also here’s chapter 3 please read the warnings and if you spot any typos lmk because I wrote this late at night.

Also! The last chapter title was from i hope ur ok by noll! The POV for this chapter is White Lily, which makes it officially the first chapter from the POV of an original character, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Building Home

Chapter Title: The day it was suddenly real

Chapter Wordcount: 3404

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola arrives home. Wounds are stitched, impulsive decisions are made, and no one is especially okay.

Warnings: Needles, blood, injury, fairly frank discussion of death and child death. (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 1 Tumblr Post

Chapter 2 Tumblr Post

(Actual fic under the cut)

Lily looked up as Cherri stumbled into the house, pressing a hand to his side and wincing. She and D had gotten back a few minutes ago, finding their mission for the day discouraging and hopeless. D was off upstairs somewhere, she thought, and she was nursing a cup of ‘tea’, which was something more approximating warm water with a little bit of some sort of dried leaf they had found in the kitchen cabinets boiled in it. They were both pretty sure it was actually parsley, but Lily insisted it was ‘minty enough’. It wasn’t as if they had anything else for tea. She would have gotten something to eat as well, but they were mostly out and they would need enough left for dinner and tomorrow’s breakfast.

So, in short, it had been an incredibly shitty day and it was about to get even worse. Given that Cherri proceeded to pass out on their floor.

Lily swore under her breath and set down her cup, hurrying over to the younger killjoy. “Cherri?”

No reply. She crouched next to the other and gently turned him over, sucking in a sharp breath at how much blood covered his side. “Cherri! D, get down here! Quickly! And bring the med kit!”

D came hurrying in a few seconds later, grabbing the first aid kit off the wall as he did. “What’s going on, Lil- Cherri!”

Lily grabbed the kit from him and dug around for the disinfectant, swearing under her breath all the while. In her opinion, there were times that called for generous usage of the word fuck, and this was one of them.

“Cher, wake up,” Lily whispered as she cleaned the wound, trying futilely to wipe away the blood so she could see.

Cherri jerked under her hands, eyes blinking open. “D- Lil- you have to go.”

“Go where?” D asked gently. It was clear Cherri wasn’t going to let them help until he passed on whatever he was going to say, so Lily let D talk.

“Go- just. Just go somewhere. They know about the radio station- bli, they’re coming to hunt us down soon. They know Lil’s in Zone Four.”

D and Lily exchanged glances.

“Go pack our stuff,” Lily told him. “I’ll take care of Cher.”

D nodded to her and hurried upstairs as she threaded the needle with hands that shook more than she wanted to admit. “Okay, Cherri, I need you to be brave. This is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Got it.” Cherri’s teeth were clenched.

Lily started the first stitch, trying not to flinch as Cherri gave a tiny yelp of pain. “It’s going to be okay, only a few more stitches, okay?”

She got a tiny nod and another hiss of pain in response. Every pained noise cut at her heart, but she couldn’t let Cherri lose too much blood. Only the Phoenix Witch knew how much he had lost already. So Lily put in careful stitch after careful stitch, pausing to clean the needle occasionally.

“What happened, Cher?”

“Went to- went to raid a supply truck.” He sucked in a breath as Lily tied off the next stitch. “Exterminator was altered by the clap. Found me and shot me.”

“How the hell did you get away?” D was returning from the upstairs with almost everything they owned neatly packed away, getting ready to pack up any stuff in the living room that they’d be able to take.

“They-“ he winced. “They let me go. Threatened me, told me to tell you two that you wouldn’t win.”

Lily glanced at D again and found that the concern in his eyes mirrored her own. “Okay, you’re all sewed up, Cherri. Let’s go out to the van.”

Cherri tried to get up, but D pushed him down firmly. “Absolutely not, you’re barely even stitched up. I’ll carry you out.”

“Fine.” Cherri didn’t resist as D picked him up, following Lily outside. She watched to make sure everything went smoothly as they set him down on the small nest of blankets and other soft things Lily had thrown together, then headed to the front. By the time D had settled next to their youngest crew member, she was already in the drivers’ seat, getting ready to take them away from here.

Lily thought she heard Cherri mutter something about ‘I’m not a child’, but he was curled up and fast asleep within minutes as she stepped on the gas.

And meanwhile, Dr. Death Defying made his way back up to the front of the van carefully, sliding into shotgun.

“Feels real now,” Lily said as her best friend settled next to her. She was still carefully steering them down the road, trying not to bump too much and wake up Cherri.

“We knew the consequences from the start.” D’s voice was businesslike, but Lily could hear the strain of worry behind it.

“We did. We’ve seen enough death to know it could happen to us.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “But it feels more real when it’s Cher who got hurt.”

“He’s so young,” D agreed. Their voice had softened and grown quieter.

“He is. God, I know he’s hardly younger than we were when we were shipped off to fight, but he’s still a child, D.”

“I know, Lil.”

“He’s so small. So young. And he’s got that way about him like there’s kindness behind the pain. Who put him in this war? Who let him be one of our little rebel soldiers? He should be….”

“Happy,” D finished for her. “Safe. Not going head-to-head with exterminators and helping run a radio station.”

“Exactly.” Her voice shook more than she would have liked. “Are we doing the right thing, D? Can we justify letting children fight a war we know we might not win?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly.

“It’s not like we can stop them from fighting, but sometimes I question if we should encourage them,” Lily went on. “So many of them are going to die, D.”

“That’s how war is. We know that.”

"We learned it well.” She knew her laugh was a little bit bitter. “It’s still not right, though.”

“No, it’s not. But we’re not fighting for nothing. There’s a future without Better Living, and we have to fight for that. Fight for it with everything we’ve got.”

Lily sighed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice now. Got ourselves into this mess, I guess we better get ourselves out of it.”

“That’s the spirit,” D said dryly.

“You think we should send Cher away?” It was an abrupt subject change, but that was what had been hovering in her mind as she and D debated morality. “He’s going to get hurt a lot by being with us.”

“He’s going to get hurt either way. He wasn’t even with us today when he got hurt, and the exterminator didn’t sound like they recognized him. Cherri is reckless, we both know. He’s going to get hurt.”

“And it’s not like he would listen if we tried to send him away anyways.”

“That too. He would stick to us like superglue.”

Lily took her eyes off the road briefly to glance back at Cherri, who was still curled up tightly as they bumped along. Even when he slept, there was a slight bit of guardedness to him, unwilling to fully stretch out. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“Me too.”

They hadn’t known where they were going when they packed up and left the house, only knowing that they needed to get out, but a plan started to form in White Lily’s mind as they headed down the road. D didn’t question her, seemingly absorbed in his thoughts as he stared out the window, and Cherri was passed out from a combination of blood loss and not sleeping well for a while. Ever, really. Lily didn’t think he had slept through the night since he arrived- he rarely actually woke one of them up, but she was up on her own often enough when he would be awake and bumping around. So even without the ray gun wound, he definitely needed sleep.

Lily turned them off the path they had been following, pulling up in a somewhat intact town. They were parked in front of the most intact house, an almost Victorian style home with sturdy walls. This was where Lily knew she could find an old friend, of sorts.

Autumn Assassin was somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years old, about five foot four, and utterly and completely terrifying. They were the best shot with a ray gun she had ever met, with the possible exception of Cherri, and could use a variety of other weapons with startling ease. They were also terrifyingly competent at cooking and keeping organized, and hadn’t put up with anyone’s shit in living memory. Lily had served with them for a time in the Helium Wars, and that brief service together was enough to give her a healthy respect for them.

“Where are we?” D asked, finally seeming to come out of their thoughts.

“An old friend’s house." Lily headed into the back, grabbing one of the bags as D lifted Cherri carefully. She led the others up to the door of the old and mostly intact house, knocking once she had finished laughing at the ‘House of Soup’ spray-painted next to the door.

Said door was opened by an unfamiliar killjoy with messy blond hair. “Hello, what can I do for you?”

“I need to talk to Autumn Assassin, do they still live here?”

“Sure do!” There was a loud crash and some yells from within the house. “I’ll get them in uhhh a second. HEY AUTUMN! WE NEED YOU UP HERE!”

A few more yells followed that, as well as one or two more crashes. “Now put that sword down or so help me!” The familiar tiny killjoy appeared at the door, putting their hands solidly on their hips. “So what is it, Princey?”

“These fine ‘joys showed up on our doorstep and asked to see you.”

“Ah. White Lily!”

“Hey, Autumn Assassin. You don’t happen to have a spare room, do you?”

Autumn Assassin looked them up and down, eyes raking over D’s tired face, the bits of blood splattering all of them, and Cherri passed out in D’s arms. “Of course I do.”

Lily breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the smaller killjoy hurried them inside. The interior of the house proved to be quite cozy, a nice living room outfitted with a verity of mismatching and likely stolen or scavenged furniture. There were also a variety of killjoys lounging around the living room and/or draped over said furniture, laughing and calling back and forth to each other as Autumn Assassin led the three of them further inside and up the stairs.

They turned left on the landing, opening the door to what had once been a bedroom, clearly. “Here you go, this is the best free room in the house, currently. We might even have an extra mattress laying around, you’ll have to give me a second to find it through.” They rummaged around in the closet of the room for a few minutes. “Ah! Here we go!”

It was a larger mattress than one would reasonably expect to fit in a closet, but Autumn Assassin had managed to cram it in there anyways, it appeared. They hauled it out and laid it across the floor of the fairly bare room. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” Lily said gratefully as D set Cherri down.

“Of course. Now come tell me about your friends and how you came to be here, I’ve got to cook dinner but you can come downstairs with me.”

“I’ll wait with Cherri,” D told Lily. “He’ll probably not be very happy about waking up alone in a strange place.”

Lily nodded and so did Autumn as they tromped downstairs, shouldering past another killjoy to reach the kitchen. “And here we go, pass me that can of power pup, would you?”

Lily handed it to them. “So you’ve been living here…”

“Couple of months now, me and the brit boys settled down here first and then we acquired a couple of other friends along the way. It’s a safehouse of sorts, we give a room to anyone who needs one.”

“Gotcha.”

“So how did you come to be here with an injured teenager and that other guy?”

“That other guy is Dr. Death Defying, my friend from my very first squadron. And the teenager is Cherri Cola, a random killjoy who came to live with us after he accidentally stumbled on our house while looking for shelter.”

“Seems legit.” They were stirring a pot of power pup with a few other things thrown in. “So how did you end up here?”

“You know 109 WKIL?”

“The radio station? Of course I do.”

“We run that, you might know, and so Better Living Industries has been trying to track our signal. Cherri went out and got hurt in a clap with an exterminator, and the exterminator told him that they were close to finding WKIL, so we had to leave home in a hurry.”

“And he didn’t die? An exterminator?”

“Didn’t die, just got hurt. He’s a good shot and a much better fighter than you would expect.”

Autumn Assassin nodded, stirring the pot one more time before they put it over the fire already lit in the sink. “So you decided to come here?”

“I knew it would be safe, and I figured you would let us stay for a while.”

“Hon, you can stay as long as you need.” They made a face. “I’ve started talking like a southern grandma.”

“You practically are a grandparent,” Lily deadpanned.

“Rude. See if I let you stay here now.” Their voice was joking, and Lily didn’t think for a second they would actually kick her out. “But in all seriousness, you really can stay for as long as you need. You’re staying until your friend is healed at least. He looks like barely more than a kid.”

“He’s sixteen. Seventeen by now, I’m guessing, but he didn’t tell us his birthday.” She ignored the faint twinge of guilt that neither she nor D had thought to ask. Birthdays weren’t such a big deal in the desert, but they still celebrated when they could.

“See? Child. Baby. Youngster.”

“You’re literally twenty-five.”

“I’m still not a literal child. Plus, I’m a cat grandparent.”

White Lily raised her eyebrows at them.

“Princey- his name is Prince of Wales but we call him Princey- adopted a mangy stray cat. And we’ve decided I’m the collective parent friend.” Autumn gave the pot another fierce stir.

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” They lifted the pot off the heat. “Dinner!”

This was met by a cascade of killjoys thundering down the stairs and several more hurrying in from the living room, much to Autumn Assassin’s disgruntled “One at a time!”

Within a few minutes, everyone had snatched one of the chipped bowls or plates (some of which appeared to actually be empty power pup cans) and were lined up neatly. D and Cherri appeared to have been alerted by the noise as well, given that they made their way slowly down the stairs after everyone else.

“Guests first,” Autumn Assassin said firmly, and the killjoys all stepped aside to let D and Cherri by. “Here you go, Lily, here you go…Dr. Death Defying, Lily said?”

He nodded.

“And here you go, young man.” They dumped some in the chipped bowl one of the ‘joys had handed Cherri.

“Thank you,” Cherri said quietly.

“Of course. Go sit down, you three, I’m going to hand some out to the rest of this lot.” Within a few minutes, the entire household was sprawled back out around the room eating the mixture that Autumn Assassin had spooned onto their plates, and Autumn Assassin came to join the three of them over in the corner Lily had claimed.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m Autumn Assassin.”

“Cherri Cola.”

“Dr. Death Defying. It’s nice to meet you; Lily said you were a friend of hers?”

“We knew each other during the Helium Wars,” Lily explained. “I figured they would be happy for us to come stay a bit.”

“And I am, you can stay as long as you need. We don’t turn away ‘joys in need in this household.” They gestured with their spoon a bit as they spoke, adding emphasis to their words. “If I have extra food and rooms, I might as well give them to people.”

“Well, we’re very glad you do,” Dr. Death Defying put in.

“Of course.”

The rest of the dinner was quiet, at least for the four of them. The rest of the room was filled with laughter and chatter and spirit, a bunch of teens and twenty-something killjoys talking between themselves and having a good time. Occasionally, one of them got up to grab more from the pot that Autumn Assassin had prepared, until the entire thing was empty and everyone seemed to have eaten their fill. After the meal was over, they all split off to different places, some off to bed and some to hang out on the roof, it seemed. The three of them went back to the little room, figuring that Cherri could use some rest and all pretty tired themselves.

Cherri was conked out within minutes, and D and Lily settled on the mattress but didn’t go to sleep just yet.

“I hope we don’t bring bli down on Autumn Assassin’s head,” D fretted softly.

“If we do, they’ll flip the corporation off and keep right on cooking,” Lily predicted with a snort.

D gave a small chuckle. “They might just, from what I’ve seen of them so far.”

“They’re terrifyingly put together. And a good fighter, but how organized they are is scarier.”

“They act like they have their life together.”

Lily flopped on her back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure they do. Unlike us.”

“Unlike us. We’re trying to run a revolution at twenty-two and twenty-one though, I think it can be forgiven.”

“Probably.”

D groaned softly as he settled down as well. “I’m too young for achy everything.”

“So am I, and everything still fucking hurts sometimes.”

“Guess that’s life.”

The duo stared up at the ceiling together as Cherri slept well, not exactly peacefully, but not horribly, at least. They had already talked about the morality of all this, but Lily was sure that would have been their topic of conversation if they hadn’t. It was awfully hard to decide if they were doing the right thing, sometimes. They were fighting for the future of their generation and all the ones after, but that fight would take away hundreds or thousands of futures as well. Could the death of so many people, so many teenagers, just barely out of childhood, be justified? Could she ask children to die for her? It had been an exhausting day, but even in the safety of Autumn Assassin’s house, her mind refused to rest. She had a thousand doubts and no one to say them to, not even D. They doubted too, she knew, but D had a somewhat more utilitarian approach to it all. To him, the world they were fighting for was worth all the death and pain. It had to be, or why would they fight? So Lily didn’t say anything further about it, but she didn’t sleep either.

It appeared D wasn’t sleeping as well, as they shifted slightly on the mattress beside her. “It’s real now, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s real now,” Lily agreed quietly.

In the history books that Better Living Industries would write, the Analog Wars began in 2010, when dangerous anarchists attacked a peaceful Better Living Industries encampment. In the stories passed down by the killjoys, they began a couple of months before that, with the attack on a small town of killjoys and neutrals by Better Living Industries. But to Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, the war began the second their friend staggered in the door with a hand pressed to his bleeding side and a dreadful warning on his lips.

#auri writes #building home tag #white lily #cherri cola #dr. death defying #autumn assassin #coming coming home tag #chapter 3 #angst

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42wallaby-way-sydney · 8 years ago

Note

19? Because i'm evil and love your writing

19) “Show off.”

I read ‘evil’ and instantly thought of evil Matt so boom!

I’m so sorry this is garbage. (and that it took me forever yikes) I think i wrote it in like… an hour really? So probably loads of errors. Also forgive if the French is wrong. I did just get slightly hit by a car yesterday. ALSO! I’m gonna finish the other two messages tomorrow after work (so Sunday morning) or sometime Sunday afternoon.

Vladimir.

Buzz.

Vladimir.

Buzz.

Vladi-

“Whatdo you want at this time of the night?” Matt asks, frowning andfeeling his watch. It’s late but Matt still finds himself unable tosleep. So Vladimir calling is a welcome distraction.

Though,receiving calls from the Russian wasn’t an odd thing by any means forMatt. But getting a call from Vladimir at nearly half past three inthe morning is far more rare. Matt wonders for a moment if this hasanything to do with Anatoly or Fisk but then rolls his eyes whenVladimir says, “Found stupid tracksuit mafia in my garage.”

Mattrolled his eyes. “Well that sounds like a you problem.”

Ascoff from Vladimir. A very clear indication that the Russian was notin the mood for Matt’s sass and was growing quite agitated. Anothersign of his annoyance was the grunt of pain Matt heard from who hepresumed to be a member of the Tracksuit Draculas. He snickered as heheard Vladimir swear in Russian.

“Notin a good mood, cher?”

“Goto hell,” is Vladimir’s snappy response. A pause then the sound ofhim taking a breath, possibly to calm himself down then, “I need…help.”

“Doing?”

Athud noise and another yell, this one a stream of sentences inRussian that most definitely is not Vladimir’s voice. It takes all ofMatt’s self restraint to not snap at Vladimir to just answer him andinstead remain silent. And soon enough, after a few more curses fromboth the Russian Vladimir has captive and Vladimir, Vladimirresponds.

“Ihave small problem.” Vladimir gave a low hum and Matt can almostpicture Vladimir rubbing his chin in thought. “Three actually. Fourif you count the blood stains I need to get rid of.”

Asnort-laugh escaped Matt before he could stop it. “What did you do,you idiot?”

Vladimirscoffed and Matt could just barely hear a tinge of hurt in theRussian’s voice as he snapped back, “You are so rude, mudak.” Ayell of pain from the other Russian. “Tu m'emmerdes,” Vladimirscoffed out, kicking his captive once more, this time in the leg. Hesmirked as the other man groaned in pain.

Mattraised an eyebrow. “Who pissed in your cheerios?” He asks,walking around his living room. It’s more for something to do thananything else.

“Ohshut up. Will you come help me get rid of these bodies now? I amthinking I will just throw them into dumpster.”

“Nowwhy would you do that?” Matt asked, suddenly sounding tired even tohis own ears. He blames Vladimir for being very draining at thishour.

Apause then a smug sounding, “Because they are garbage.”

Mattcan tell that Vladimir is smirking in pure glee, as though he’d justtold a hilarious joke. But all it does is make the lawyer sigh androll his eyes.

“S'ilvous plaît, mon trésor?” Vladimir practically coos out.

Heraises an eyebrow when he hears Matt humming a tune, clearly thinkingthis over.

“Whatare you humming?” He asks curious and switching topics easily. Hejust vaguely remembers the song and knows it’s going to bother himuntil he figures it out.

“Noneof your business.” Matt says, picking his cane up from where he’dplaced it on the coffee table a few hours earlier. He’d made his mindup the moment Vladimir had asked for his help but he still wanted tohear the Russian beg a little bit longer. “I’m in my pajamas.”

Ahum of approval from Vladimir. “Good. You are coming here then?”

Mattscoffed. “In my pajamas?”

Vladimirshrugged. “I like your pajamas.” A pause. “Wait your underwearor sweatpants pajamas?”

“Sweatpants.”

Acurse in Russian that Matt recognized as damn.“I can work with that. So you are on your way now?”

Mattthinks it’s almost cute how equal halves hopeful and excited the Russian sounds. It reminds Matt of a puppy. “No. Why doyou want me to help you anyway? You are perfectly capable of hidingyour own bodies.”

Thisis a fact and Vladimir huffs in annoyance.

“Imiss you.”

Vladimir’scaptive scoffs and snaps something that Matt doesn’t understand butthen screams as Vladimir stabs him in the leg. Vladimir snapssomething at him, also in Russian, and Matt exaggerates a loud yawn.

Thisdoes the trick of getting Vladimir back on track. “Matyusha, miliimoi, mon trésor. I am almost begging here.”

Matttossed his cane up in the air, effortlessly caught it, and began toslowly twirl it as he walked around the living room. “You are goingto have to do more than just ‘almost’ begging. Since you want me tocome out in my bare feet-”

“Doyou even own shoes?” Vladimir interrupts, speaking more to himselfthan to Matt. “I do not think I have ever seen you in shoes.”

Mattdrops his cane in mild surprise. “I wear shoes.”

Ascoff from the Russian and he shrugs even though he knows Matt can’tsee it. “Sure. What do I have to do to make you come over here, montrésor?” He drawls out slowly, accent thicker on purpose as heknows Matt would never admit it but he does so love the accent.

Ratherthan give an answer Matt picks his cane back up and begins twirlingit around once more before asking almost absentmindedly, “Why doyou even want my help?”

“Isnot just the bodies. I am also threatening this idiot. I do notlike how they just wandered in here and were stealing my shit. Andyou are much more scary than me,” Vladimir says, fully honest. Hegrins when Matt lets out a happy hum and he can almost perfectlypicture in his mind Matt grinning smugly.

Mattshrugs. “Well, you know what they say. Flattery will get youeverywhere. Now, as for what you can do as payback for me coming tohelp you at half past three in the morning-”

“Ohplease. We both know you were not sleeping.”

“-Iwant pancakes,” Matt finishes, ignoring the interruption. He smirkswhen Vladimir lets out a disappointed groan.

“Fine.”

Ittakes all of five minutes of being in the garage for Matt to growbored. He can’t understand and doesn’t care to understand what thetwo Russians are yelling back and forth. The smell of blood is sostrong from the other three bodies that it takes all of Matt’sconcentration to not gag. He hates the smell of blood. It makes himthink of his dad’s death.

Hejerks slightly as he catches a few insults being thrown from thecaptive Russian to Vladimir. Then raises an eyebrow in amusement as agunshot rings out. A pained scream isn’t too far behind.

“Ithought you weren’t going to kill him?” Matt asks, almost laughingnow.

Vladimirscoffs and looks his gun over in an attempt to calm himself. “Hedoes not need his kneecaps to breathe.”

“Didhe insult me?” The sudden racing of Vladimir’s heart is answerenough. Matt finds that almost sweet that Vladimir cares so much in his own little way. “I understand what ‘suka’ means. I’m not a complete idiot,mon cher. Do you want me to ask him questions now? You can take aquick breather.”

Vladimirwaves his hand, a 'ifyou wish’gesture. And Matt doesn’t think twice. Just swings his cane out andsmacks the other Russian in the face. Vladimir lets out a low whistleas his captive spits out a mouthful of blood.

“Alright!Alright fine! I answer your questions! Just keep him away from me!”He’s not stupid. He knows exactly who Matt is. Everyone knows whoMatt Murdock is. But Matt rolls his eyes and ignores him. AndVladimir tilts his head as he watches the lawyer beat the TracksuitDracula to hell. Matt is enjoying it far too much but Vladimir findsit amusing, and possibly a tad arousing not that he’ll admit that, towatch.

Hewaits just a few minutes more before muttering, “Matvey, I got itfrom here I think.”

Matttsks but steps to the side as he hears Vladimir’s footsteps. He wavesa hand out. “All yours.”

“Showoff,” Vladimir scoffs out. Then turns his attention to the coughingRussian on the floor. His captive seems to be having a hard timebreathing now, arm holding his possibly broken ribs.

Whenthey begin speaking Russian once again Matt just yawns and tones themout. No use in trying to pay attention when he can only understandbasics and insults. He raises an eyebrow when Vladimir turns hisattention back to him.

“Wegive him ride back to his place now.”

“We’rewhat?” Matt asks, eyebrow raised and wondering if for a moment he’djust misheard Vladimir. But Vladimir just repeats what he’d just saidand Matt tilts his head. “Why are we giving him a ride home?”

“Igot what I wanted and I have message he needs to deliver to his otheridiot friends. In case they ever try to steal from me again,”Vladimir explains slowly, as if he wants to make sure Matt willunderstand him.

Mattjust stares straight ahead, not even caring that it unnerves Vladimirwhen he purposefully looks past him when they’re speaking. “Whatwere they stealing from you exactly?”

“Ah.Well…” The sound of Vladimir’s shoes hitting the pavement andthen a light thud noise as he kicks a body over. “This one owed memoney from a game of cards few weeks ago.” Another thud as Vladimirkicks another of the bodies. “And his cousin here did not like that I shot him. So he tried to shoot me and did not work well for him inthe end.” More footsteps as Vladimir walks to the final body thatlies in a pool of blood just a few feet away from Vladimir’s office.“And this bastard tried steal Tolik’s vodka.”

“Pleasetell me you’re kidding,” Matt says dully.

Vladimirjust shrugs. “Alright fine. It was my vodka he was trying to steal.Happy?”

“Ecstatic,”Matt almost spits out. He sighs. This shouldn’t shock him. He knowshow Vladimir is. And yet he still finds himself shocked by the littlethings Vladimir does.

Vladimirgrins. Claps his hands together then pulls his keys from his pocket.“Now, let’s take this asshole home. Go get our pancakes. Then wecan finish our date of ridding this garage of dead people.”

“Thiswas a date?” Matt asks, eyebrow raised.

Vladimirpauses, now standing right next to the slightly shorter man. “Oui,mon trésor,” he says, pinching Matt’s cheek. He huffs when Mattwrinkles his nose and swats his hand away from his face. He looksaround, shrugs, and says, “I think all the red around here now isgood… aesthetic? Very romantic.”

Mattsnorts. “Stick to the roses.”

“Butyou hate their smell?”

“Ihate the smell of blood even more, connard.”

Atsk from Vladimir. “You are so rude today.” He can’t help but to be amused.

#ask me stuff #snippet of a ficlet #mon fol amour #im so tired #i have work soon yikes #i dont wanna go...#mattimir #my writing #also #i forgot the last few sentences oops ill possibly add them later since #i may use this in the fic #at this point anatoly is in jail #and vladimir is just being an ass about matt and his shoes

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