#i could say more about how the song is in 7/8 and sounded like all our bulgarian and n. macedonian folk songs

[longeyelashedtragedy]

a reason it's hard to make quality irl friends: last night we learned a greek song in my singing group (i've never sung in greek before!) and because of that i learned that the bulgarian and albanian word for "rose" is the same as the modern greek word for "rose" (which is a very cool word and means "30 leaves" i think--the greek was the last version i learned lmao) and that's SO COOL. 1) parts of a region influencing each others' languages and 2) once again albanian is much less of a distant and weird language than it initially appears! so anyway i just want to tell EVERYONE about this! but 'irl people' aren't interested in this kind of thing! sigh

[megaderping]

I feel like when people compare Akechi to Light Yagami, they fundamentally misunderstand his character. Their similarities really end at their designs, and Light is the kind of person Akechi would despise. Light Yagami lives a pretty privileged life at the start of Death Note. He has a stable home, with two parents and a sister who care about him. He's a successful student. There isn't really inherent tragedy to his life. The whole reason he starts using the Death Note is a mix of curiosity and a jaded worldview, and when it works it empowers him, very quickly goes to his head, as he believes he is one who can be a god of a "new world" once the shock of his initial kills wears off. While his first kill was to help someone, that altruism didn't last. He is in charge of his choices, while Ryuk mostly vibes and maybe eggs him on a little. Fundamentally, Light has something Akechi lacks: agency, and a comfortable life he took for granted. Meanwhile, Akechi is someone who lived on the bottom rung of Japanese society. His very existence is shameful there, between his mother being a sex worker, his status as an illegitimate/"throw away" child, and his mother's suicide. Years languishing in a foster system that is notoriously inhumane, in a country where 90% of the adoptions are grown men for inheritance and patriarchal reasons, while very few children in the system find permanent homes. When Akechi awakens his power, he approaches Shido not because he wants to kill people but for a stupid revenge plan cooked up by a traumatized child who's been nudged along by a malevolent god. He wants to build Shido up so that at the height of his power, he can expose him for the monster he really is, while another part of him genuinely wants to be useful to Shido, as Cogkechi later calls out. His feelings are a mess of contradictions, and so it's no surprise that Shido was able to mold him into his assassin at only 15 years old. It's also worth noting that Akechi only approaches Shido with his ability to cause psychotic breakdowns. Shido is the one who teaches and instructs him to do shutdowns. He's still complicit, very sunk cost with his revenge plan, but as I spoke of here, even if he wanted to quit, he couldn't alone. Shido's cleaner and control of the law and ability to effortlessly turn him in would render the Metaverse his only safe haven. I think people look at 11/20 Akechi and Akechi in the early parts of the engine room and assume that's just his "true self," when in reality it's another mask. Royal makes it very clear because in Rank 7, he outright warns Joker of what's to come via a pool metaphor and offers an out (though he's MUCH happier if you don't take it/stick to your principles), and in Rank 8, he goes on that big "I hate you" speech... while Sunset Bridge is playing. Y'know, the song that plays at the end of most confidants to reaffirm bonds. So when he smiles as he shoots what he assumes to be Joker, that doesn't mean he's genuinely happy. More likely, he's an emotional clusterfuck, given he also is disoriented enough to namedrop "Shido-san" over the phone, and in the subsequent meeting with Shido, tells him not to kill the Phantom Thieves and that Morgana is "just a cat." Yes, he says they'll make them fear for the rest of their lives, but remember, he's talking to Shido. The things he says are likely all incredibly calculated to sound appealing to Shido. And when you consider that he planned to utterly destroy Shido's reputation after the election, the "delay" makes even more sense.

Later, Akechi goes on about how the people he induced shutdowns on were deserving of their fates, but I don't think he believes it so much as it's the only way he could convince himself that it was worth it, and given how much society failed him, and given how many of the people he targeted were likely rivals/competitors or rich fucks, I think he'd be less inclined to assume good faith. Kunikazu Okumura was not an innocent little victim, after all. He was one of the people who requested breakdowns and shutdowns the most. I think Akechi enjoyed killing him not because of how it'd hurt Haru, but because of catharsis. Because Okumura is just as monstrous as Shido, so why should he feel remorse? However, I don't believe he feels the same about Wakaba, as when he discusses her with Shido, he mentions how her fate was because she refused to willingly work for him. It's another justification, but I personally think Wakaba's death was the most painful for him because he was effectively making Futaba just like him. That's why I think his reaction to Sae threatening Sojiro's custody was genuine. Anyway, evil grinning Akechi is just another mask, as I said. Keep in mind, this is someone who laments not meeting Joker years ago, someone who Morgana outright points out is lying about his hatred. And that's the thing. Light Yagami, while a really fascinating character, is not someone who had all this childhood suffering or lack of agency. He does not regret his actions in the slightest and goes down due to his own hubris in both the anime and the manga. While you can argue that Ryuk set him up by dropping the Death Note, Light was the one who picked it up and chose to use it. Any nudging from Ryuk didn't coerce Light into doing it because Light seized the opportunity. No, if Light Yagami is like anyone in Persona 5, it's Masayoshi Shido, not Goro Akechi. Both believe they are god/god's chosen, that they are the ones who will reshape the world to their ideals, and to be frank, both use and abuse women to serve their own purposes. Goro Akechi goes down sacrificing himself for the Thieves and pleading with them to stop his father and again in Maruki's reality when he refuses to let Joker accept a gilded prison of a world for his sake when he knows better than anyone what it's like to have no true freedom. If you max his confidant, you see him in the postcredits, leaving his survival entirely possible, and I think it works because at the end of the day, Akechi was meant to be a victim and a foil. Light is a villain protagonist and a cautionary tale. Though its his POV we follow, he isn't someone we're meant to root for, but I definitely don't think enjoying the character is a bad thing at all. He's really interesting! I just think that a lot of the Akechi and Light comparisons are surface level at best.

[widow-tarot]

MINI PAC READING: What Would They Tell You If They Could? (Romance)

GROUPS: 1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6

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Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. Just to remind you, this is only for entertainment purposes.

If you don't feel drawn to any group, then this reading is not for you.

GROUP 1

Cards: Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands rx, Wheel of Fortune rx, I Like You, Girl Talk rx, Pond, Archangel Metatron.

I like you. I know it's straightforward, but I cannot say it in any other way that's more meaningful or more direct. It might not sound meaningful but it is to me (I hope it is to you too). I feel there is a spiritual connection between us and it seems no matter what, we keep coming back to each other. Our connection is like a pond; can be insignificant to others but to us, it holds so much life and secrets but it can easily be destroyed if not cultivated. We are so hot and cold; we like each other, then we hate each other over something trivial (we both don't know what exactly annoyed us). I want to move towards you but things are holding me back. There's so much I want to do and say but I'm standing still. I know we will truly come together someday. No one knows about it because I don't share those feelings with friends. It seems too private and sacred.

SONGS:

Eric by Mitski ("Take off my clothes and watch me move; You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me; But how long, how long can we play this way?; I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you"

Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey ("Ours a love I held tightly; Feeling the rapture grow; Like a flame burning brightly; But when she left; Gone was the glow")

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex ("Whispered something in your ear; It was a perverted thing to say; But I said it anyway; Made you smile and look away; Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby; As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine")

GROUP 2

Cards: 9 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Noose rx, Mushrooms, The Snake, Hammer rx, Seraphim Seraphisa rx.

You will forever be in my heart and mind, but we can never be together in the way we want. There are way too many blockages and I do think we are not fit to be in a relationship. I am in a committed relationship (or you are) and I do not wish to leave her for I love her. Maybe I am a coward, but I am a practical and cautious one. I will not take reckless actions just to wake up one day and regret it. I think what we have is a fantasy, pleasant make-believe, daydreaming. However, I don't want you gone because you're an important person to me. I wish you happiness but I can't follow you.

SONGS:

Lonesome Love by Mitski ("I call you, to see you again; So I can win, and this can finally end")

Blue Banisters by Lana Del Rey ("She said, "You can't be a muse and be happy, too; You can't blacken the pages with Russian poetry and be happy"; And that scared me; 'Cause I met a man who said he'd come back every May;Just to help me if I'd paint; Now when weather turns to May; All my sisters come to paint")

Flash by Cigarettes After Sex ("I'm a flash; You were blinded by the love I had; I'm a flash; The light could only get in through the cracks")

GROUP 3

Cards: The Hierophant rx, 8 of Wands, The Devil, 10 of Swords rx, Wildflowers, Mirror, Keys on a Ring, Archangel Raphael.

You are the temptation, the chaos in my life, the wildflowers that can still be growing but can also be already taken by someone else while I wasn't looking. You're untouchable, unable to be caught, translucent. One minute you're here only to leave seconds later just to come back and stay for a long time. You're unpredictable, a sin worth sinning for. But I hate to be alone and you make me sad. I love to see you but I hate myself when you leave. I don't know if you have any feelings for me; is it something serious or is it just casual and convenient? I can't do this anymore, I'm trapped and I feel miserable. I wish I could tell you to stay away, to abandon me, to never come back. It would be easier for me to move on then but I am a fool for you. I wish I was strong enough to talk things through but I'd rather have some of you than none of you. Then again, being with you hurts me so what should I do?

SONGS:

Should've Been Me by Mitski ("Relive all the ways you still want me; I haven't given you what you need; You wanted me but couldn't reach me; I'm sorry it should've been me"

Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey ("I will love you till the end of time; I would wait a million years; Promise you'll remember that you're mine; Baby, can you see through the tears?; You went out every night; And, baby, that's alright; But when you walked out that door; A piece of me died")

Ambien Slide by Cigarettes After Sex ("Take my love with some pretend; You said you couldn't help it; Had everything that you wanted; When my love was something yours; But now you're feeling helpless")

GROUP 4

Cards: Death, Page of Pentacles rx, The Chariot rx, Archangel Sammael, Eileen Chang rx, Boat rx, Engagement Ring rx.

I don't want to try to fix this thing between us anymore, it's a fool's errand. We tried and it didn't work, it's time to move on to something else because we are just wasting our time and I'm exhausted. Let me go. Let me leave, peacefully. I don't want to fight but I'm frustrated. I think we tried to escape the inevitable but at the end of the road, we cannot pretend any longer. Relieve me of this burden and don't resent me.

SONGS:

Working For The Knife by Mitski ("I always thought the choice was mine; And I was right, but I just chose wrong")

Bel Air by Lana Del Rey ("Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate; Trying to tell me to wait; But I can't wait to see you; So I run, like I'm mad, to heaven's door; I don't wanna be bad; I won't cheat you no more")

Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex ("We wanted to fuck with real love; Wanted it sweet, so pure and warm; And when you say you want it all, I know you want it all; Baby, take it all from me; I always will make it feel like you were the last one; So get in the waves like it was the first time")

GROUP 5

Cards: The Star rx, 7 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords rx, Glove rx, The Phoenix, Paradise rx, Archangel Haniel.

I wish we could start anew, without any bitter history between us that holds us back and clouds our judgment. We cannot fully be together while all these thoughts are troubling us, making us suspicious of each other and insecure. I know we both lost hope for this connection, yet we are still going and proceeding with it in any way we can. We don't want this to be over but we need to find a solution. I want you in my life and I'm willing to put work into it. Are you? Someone needs to make the first step though and it's the most difficult thing to do. We cannot stay still for much longer though. We communicate telepathically but we also have to communicate in real life.

SONGS:

First Love/Late Spring by Mitski ("Please hurry leave me; I can't breathe; Please don't say you love me; One word from you and I would; Jump off of this ledge I'm on; Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in")

Video Games by Lana Del Rey ("It's you, it's you, it's all for you; Everything I do; I tell you all the time; Heaven is a place on earth with you; Tell me all the things you wanna do; It's better than I ever even knew; They say that the world was built for two; Only worth living if somebody is loving you")

Goodbye Mr Blue by Father John Misty (" But maybe if he'd gone sooner; Could've brought us back together last June; When the last time was our last time; If only then I knew; The last time was our last time; Would've told you that the last time comes too soon")

GROUP 6

Cards: Page of Swords rx, 9 of Cups rx, 4 of Swords, Sappho, Archangel Chamuel, Cupid's Arrow rx, Separation rx.

Do you love me? You say you do why does your love cause so much pain? Why am I in agony instead of being elated and happy? Is this how you show your love? I feel neglected and manipulated. I feel ignored and mocked. Am I your partner or your pet? Do you even care what I want? Do you care what I have to say? You treat me as a child as if I cannot think or decide for myself. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think so lowly of me? When you're not here, I don't miss you and my mind is at ease. I lost all hope for anything to change. It hurts even more because I love you, but your love is weird and dysfunctional. I feel trapped. I even stopped speaking my mind because it was met with ridicule and anger.

SONGS:

Wife by Mitski ("For if I am not yours, what am I?; I daydream I'd give one a name of my own; For even I am on loan; For even mine is unknown; So let me go towards the morning star; With hope it won't disappear;)

Carmen by Lana Del Rey ("Baby's all dressed up, with nowhere to go; That's the little story of the girl you know; Relyin' on the kindness of strangers; Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem; Lyin' to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf; It's alarmin', honestly, how charmin' she can be; Foolin' everyone, tellin' 'em she's havin' fun")

Hot by Cigarettes After Sex ("Is it all in my head? 'Cause I keep getting scared; That I'll always be lost forever; But I don't give a shit if I'm too delicate; When you hold me, it's always better")

[muntitled]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐄𝐏. 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

❝ 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣? ❞

Pairings: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Being begrudgingly seduced by the anarchist

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Cop!Reader, Revolutionary!Seonghwa, Implied Violence, Crazy Form!Au, Seduction, Smut (+18, minors dni) Corruption Kink, Innocence Kink, Masochism, Humping, Fingering, pet names, Rough Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Dom!Seonghwa, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Humiliation, Unprotected Sex, Hate Sex

A/n: I might turn this into a series featuring all the Pirates with their own smutty little parts because I cannot help re-watching the Crazy Form mv. It's too good

The very sight of the undulating mosh pit has your stomach rolling with nausea as you enter the dimly lit warehouse. The corrugated walls are illuminated only by various splotches of neon paint, and you suddenly feel the uncanny need to pray as you enter the crowd.

You begin to grow fearful, not onky because this crowd might birth a fresh panic attack, but because you fear for your focus as well.

That you may not be swayed from your mission.

The Intel that led you and your police partner here had been incredibly difficult to come by because every one of their little followers were so terribly loyal.

So naturally, upon receiving a tip off about a show being hosted on the seedier outskirts of town, you had no choice but to attend.

In this unpredictable field of law enforcement, of one thing you are completely certain: There will always be a clear distinction between the good and the bad and they are as bad as they come.

They are common criminals, and there is nothing else to it.

In fact, referring to them as anything but, feels like a gross display of exaltation. Exaltation, which is, evidently, what they are used to.

Disgust is smeared across your face as you and your police partner sieve your way through drunken bodies swaying to the sound of Seonghwa's voice. Although you're shoving roughly past people, all in an attempt to get to the front of the stage, you can not help but marvel at the crowd, undulating to the beat of a bandit.

His face, along with the faces of 7 of his fellow delinquents were smeared across every wanted poster in the city, and yet here he is, raging into a microphone while the crowd cheers his name.

“If I hear ‘Seonghwa’ one more time I fear I might shoot myself in the foot,” you call out, to your partner not far behind, “Keep a tight grip on your weapons, please,” you say, craning your neck back as you palm cradles your back pocket with the Glock 14 nestled inside, “We don't know what any of these idiots are on and I dont think we want to find out.”

Your civilian attire is successful in keeping the attention off of you and your partner as you break out of the heat and anxiety of the moshpit, right in front of center stage.

Seonghwa is right above you, cradling a microphone as if it were the Holy grail while his accomplice, a very inebriated San, bounds across the stage, stirring up the crowd like Seonghwa's personal hypeman.

You could almost feel your vexation increasing to ungodly heights.

Everything about this egregious display of egomania makes your blood boil raging hot, and although these are only 2, you find your hands clenching in anticipation of being one step closer to putting all 8 behind bars.

Your hatred seems to be oozing out of your pores because soon, you catch his attention. Perched on a stage elevated amongst the masses, he is looking at you now. You. Instead of any of the other drunken groupies in the crowd begging to get even a sliver of attention.

With both hands cuffed around the mic, he peers down at you and winks before belting out the final words of the song.

How badly you itched to bind his wrists with your silver cuffs.

How badly you wished to get him and his insolent underlings off the streets.

"They do know how to capture an audience… we can at least give them that," Your head snaps sideways as the words of your partner rouses what little patience you're already working with.

You tap lightly at his badge. The sound of your nail hitting the metal is drowned out by the raucaus applaud but your police partner watches you intently as you cooly say, “Don't forget why we're here, Sergeant,” your voice holds caution as the noise of the crowd trickles down.

The set ends, and the man on stage drenched in flamboyant white linen bids the crowd a ‘Very good night’. He strolls off stage, not without giving you one last, knowing glance.

‘If you catch me, it's because I let you catch me,’ is what those eyes seem to be saying.

So much for blending into an unsuspecting crowd.

“These are not your friends. They're common criminals.” Your voice is louder now, with the absence of that Seonghwa's cacophony. “Stay here, make sure none of these degenerates kill themselves.” You're hellbent om following Seonghwa off the stage, but your partner's light snickers have you pausing slightly. You raise your eyebrows in questioning.

“You speak about them like they're not just fans," Your partner shakes his graying head, "Like they're complicit,”

“They are." You almost immediately reply with a narrowed gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, their fans are just as bad as them.”

With those parting words you make your way towards the part of the warehouse sectioned off from the rest of the crowd, where Seonghwa and his accomplice disappeared off to in the wake of their applause.

You reach what appears to be a backroom hidden behind the makeshift stage. It is far quieter than the rest of the warehouse pulsating with cacophony. You do not miss the slight apprehension that swallows you whole when your feet stop you from venturing over the threshold.

“It doesn't look like you have a backstage pass,” San sits beside Seonghwa on a couch positioned in the focal point of the small room. You recognize hid face as another one of the men whose visage was stamped in a very large police docket on your desk.

“Apologies,” you murmer to San, “I only have one of these,” you raise your police ID to the side of your face and San rises from his seat in mild curiosity. He sinks closer to you while Seonghwa, the man who held most of your attention, sits reclined, with his legs spread on the wide sectional.

He sits lazily, almost kingly under a giant white sheet. A flag plastered to the wall, with a giant, obnoxious, A carelessly spray painted in black.

“I thought we said no fans allowed backstage." San says in a sing-song voice, blatantly ignoring your badge with his giant shoulders now bending down to your height. The circumference of his hat casts a wide shadow over you, all in a clear display of intimidation. "That counts for pigs, too.”

His steely gaze never wavers from your face, and you fight valiantly to keep your emotions tamed under a calm, nonchalant reserve. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?" San does an obnoxious display of racking his eyes over your body.

"Your dad's place," you whisper cooly, "I couldn't put it on in time."

Your words have an unmistakable smile cracking on the sides of San's face. "I enjoyed that very much."

"I thought a degenerate like you might." Despite your words, San is still smiling. In fact, you fear yourself at risk of slipping right into that enchanting gaze of his were it not for the interception of the third voice in the room.

“How interesting,” Seonghwa's voice cuts through the tension blistering between you and San like a white, hot knife.

“Leave us.” San's head snaps backward towards his accomplice, and all Seonghwa does is smile as they communicate, quite literally without words right in front of you. Seonghwa evidently 'says' what is needed in order to get San slyly leaving room. Not before tipping his hat in parting.

With your attention now focused solely on the man ok the couch, drenched in the white linen, whose arms are outstretched and resting on the headrest, you suddenly find yourself completely and unfortunately unsure.

You had met plenty of prisoners. Dined with manner delinquents and questioned many criminals, it is only in his presence when you feel your usually tough reserve quaking at the smallest fraction. In the face of what is apparently true rebellion.

“Why don't you have a seat,” he snickers when he finds you already stepping over the threshold, making yourself all too comfortable in an evil space. Nothing good existed beyond this point.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” There is a depth to his voice that is regrettably tickling down the edge of your spine, dousing every bit of pateince you had.

“You call it a show… I call it inciting a riot,” you shrug, finally choosing to sit beside him on the wide sectional. Far too close beside him and his outstretched arms.

Despite the warning bells, you refuse to exhibit any fear.

“Is that why you're here?” His voice remains steady as he focuses it on tracing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. He wants to see how quickly his touch could elicit a valley of goosebumps.

He is all too pleased to find you shivering in protest.

“You're here to arrest me?” In all honesty, Seonghwa enjoyed watching you try to push him away for the sake of your precious morals. Call it masochism, but there is something enticing about a woman who so very clearly abhors everything he stands for. Seonghwa cannot help but find it almost irresistible. His captain always remarked on Seonghwa's enjoyment for not only fixing broken things but also obsessing over them.

You did not know that the frown plastered across your face only accelerated his racing heart more. Desire plunged through his arteries as he immediately recognized you as a challenge.

Something to perhaps break.

It would be so incredibly satisfying, especially because you represented everything he despised in this wretched world.

Order.

“Actually, no.” You say, staving off another shivsr as you evade Seonghwa’s steadily heavy growing eyelids. “We received a call that someone was disturbing the peace.”

“In an abandoned warehouse?” He asks, voice airy and tone almost dismissive because he is much closer to you now, leaning towards you, as if enchanted by your very scent. You watch him with apprehension as you begin to feel the very first signs of what you regrettably realize to be attraction.

However, you can not move off the couch now because you can not control any of your motor functions in your concrete bones. Every one of your morals howl for you to get away from this man. To cuff him, send him down to the precinct and convict him for... something…

but that 'something' does not come quick enough, and he's leaning closer to you, with both arms still resting on the couch behind you. Before you can blow up your entire career, and close the distance, you wrangle some bit of sense to turn your head sideways, evading his half lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Your blatant rejection rouses him slightly, and he readjusts himself in his seat. Seonghwa brings his legs together to better manage the heat rushing to his cock in the wake of your rejection and apparent attraction (and immense frustration) as he shifts even closer beside you.

“You will find no disturbance here,” he says, “Only music.”

His words release the floodgates of your vexation, and your head snaps as you fire off. “Music that you weaponize to spew your delinquency.”

“Ah. Ah.” Seonghwa dips his head down to your ear as he whispers, “Delinquency, or rebellion?”

You're laughing humorlessly into the air, effectively causing Seonghwa’s smile to widen and his cock to stiffen completely in the confies of his pitch black dress pants. You are oblivious to his eyes, watching you as if you hung the very moon.

“You and your… freaks preach your vitriol and call it ‘rebellion’ when all you're actually doing is polluting our city with riots and crime.”

“You don't wish to be liberated from an oppressive world order?” He adjusts himself again, getting far too excited with the way this conversation is flowing. Your wide eyes and high vibrato do little to calm his restlessness.

“What oppression!?”

His voice is quick and monotonous, “Capitalism. Classism. Racism.” His fingers clench and unclench before swiping against the back of your neck, “Why do you willingly submit to a system that is simply un-winnable? We want you to free yourselves from the hierarchy. Fucking wreck the system-”

“You're fucking Pirates,” you spit the word out, unwokowungly snapping the very last of your reserve before Seonghwa is pulling you into a heady, heavy kiss by the nape of your neck.

"Fuck yes," He whispers before pulling you in as if you weighed absolutely nothing and you let him. You let his lips move languidly against yours as your hands fall against his chains and the white linen frills spilling from his collar. His hand is still positioned on the nape of your neck and he squeezes, forcing you to kiss him back. He groans into your mouth when you begin to work with him instead of against him. You mouth falling open as his tongue collides with yours.

Vaguely, in the background, outside these four walls, you can hear the crowd beginning to cheer once again as raucous music spills from unseen speakers. You can hear San beginning to sing into a mic, and your hand on Seonghwa's shirt curls imperceptibly.

“You're so beautiful…” You hate how easily his words affect you. You hate what a slave to desire you seem to be as he leans back to immediately push his hands in between your legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, keeping his feline eyes trained on you as he unclips the buttons of your jeans with one hand. “Tell me you don't want this disgusting delinquent to make you cum over and over again.”

Your lips are pursed painfully, and you throw your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you lift your hips. All the better for him to wriggle your jeans down to your ankles.

As he brings your legs up to his lap to pull off your jeans completely, Seonghwa's movements become all the more reckless and all the more urgent.

“All the same,” he murmurs before kneeling on the floor in front of you, “You conformists are all the fucking same.” Your eyes flutter open, along with your mouth, and the very moment your gaze locks onto the spray painted flag, hanging above you, Seongwha pushes aside your underwear, immediately spearing your dripping cunt with his long fingers. You release a broken moan into the air and his smile has blossomed into a full-on lopsided, evil grin as he brings your knees up to frame his face.

“2 seconds,” he taunts, in between your chorus of broken moans going head-to-head with the sound of San’s sensational belting, “it took me 2 seconds to have you humping my hand like a pretty fucking slut-”

Despite the pleasure coursing through your body, you still manage to keep your teeth clenched as you murmur, “You're the one… fuck… you're the one kneeling in front of me like my personal whore-”

Seonghwa's eyebrows raise, and his eyes glint in excitement at your taunting. He prided himself on being someone who could take as much as he gave out, and you're doing a terrific job at holding his attention when so many other people fell short.

You were interesting, of that, Seonghwa was sure.

“You make me want you so bad, Dove,” he admits before swiping his other hand over his stiffening bulge to the rhythm of his hand pushing in and out of your cunt.

“You drive me fucking crazy-”

“You're already crazy- fuck, just like that! Please don't stop-” your clenching around his fingers, eyes locked on his wide, excited eyes and his close lipped smile as brings his other hand to swipe over your clit.

The very second his calluses make contact with your swollen, puffy clit, you're cumming around his fingers. San’s vocal rages and your screams pour out as you fight to keep your eyes open. Seonghwa's fingers are still pushing into you relentlessly, and your heart sinks when you realise the seat underneath you is drenched with your arousal.

Seonghwa's mind is flooded with the image of you squirting so shamelessly around his fingers. Seeing you give yourself over to him so seamlessly made him feel absolutely restless with arousal, and he's pushing you down onto the couch before you're able to fill the air with idle protests.

His clothes suddenly feel too constricting and he curses the black corset as he wrestles with the buttons of his collar. He does not care that the buttons are flying onto the floor because he is clambouring onto the couch and hovering over you as he slots his hips in between your open legs.

“I need you to make a mess for me,” he whispers, before pulling his collar open, showcasing a patch of his tanned chest to your wide eyes. You unbuttoned your own shirt at the very same time that Seonghwa pulls down the zip of his pants, and he nearly whines at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your top. You are using him just as much as he is using you.

“Just like that, baby,” He nods, forcing his cock deep inside you as you begin to tweak your own nipples to stave off the discomfort of being stretched open so completely.

“F-Fuck- Seonghwa…” He is still nodding as he bends down towards you. Strands of his black hair tickle your face as he positions his hands on the side of your head and ruts into you with urgency. “I don't think I can take it-”

“You're already taking it so well, Baby.” He coos, as he forces his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching walls.

“You're taking everything I have to give and you're doing it flawlessly,” his praises are like that fashioned from a poet and the sheer artistry behind mere words have your head flying backwards as you release a torrid moan into the air.

“Where are you going?” He asks with a breathless laugh as he brings your head back by the grip of your throat. He is driving his cock inside you, his own frills spilling over your skin as he chokes you relentlessly.

Seonghwa is the very sight of violent beauty: hair mussed with his collar completely undone. His corset is still fashioned around his waist but it succeeds in tightening his abdomen, bringing him closer to the edge as the torrid sounds of your fucking fills the air.

"Fuck I'm close,” He grunts with his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull. "Tell me you hate me-" he whispers.

"I hate you," you moan out. "I hate you so fucking much-" It fell from your lips so easily because it is the God honest truth. Despite the spell he currently has you under, in the eyes of your aspirations, and everything you've ever worked hard for, you hated him and people like him. People who threatened to dismantle the progress lawmakers have strived to protect. And so, with your orgasm crwsting and your toes clenching, you whisper those words over and over to him. And every time to tell him you hate him, he chokes you harder and fucks you deeper.

"F-Fuck- 'Hwa I'm-" he nods, eyes now incredibly pained as he drives his cock into you with no chance of stopping.

"Cum for me," His whisper has you reading a broken moan into the air and Seonghwa watches as you descend into the depths of your euphoria.

"Gorgeous-" He exclaims through clenched teeth as his own hips begin to stutter, "You're so fucking gorgeous-" He whimpers before spilling inside you.

You're both moaning into the air, at the very same time that Choi San appears at the threshold.

"You work fast," San says languidly. He shifts his gaze from your horror-stricken gaze to Seonghwa who stares at his accomplice with a smirk on his face.

"I work smarter," Seonghwa says, "not harder." You're very much aware that he is still very much inside of you in front of a complete stranger but that panic dissipates when you realize Seonghwa, himself, is nothing but a stranger...

"The police is not gonna be a problem for us anymore, right?" He asks sweetly before dipping his head down in between the crook of your neck. You are starkly aware that your silence is answer enough...

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 3.4k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 

The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.

You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 

Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 

As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”

“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.

“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 

“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 

With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”

You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 

“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.

His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”

He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”

His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 

Too bad you had a combative mouth. 

Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 

You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.

Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.

“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.

“Laswell, can you hear us?”

“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.

“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 

Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”

All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”

“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.

“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.

It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”

“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.

“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.

Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Hex, I-”

You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”

“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”

“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 

“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.

You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”

“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 

You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.

~

Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 

Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.

He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 

“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 

“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 

Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”

“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.

Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.

Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”

He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”

You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?

“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.

Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 

You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”

“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 

Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.

Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”

“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 

You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”

After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.

You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 

Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”

Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”

You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 

Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 

Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.

Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 

“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.

“She almost sliced my head off.”

Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”

[lousypotatoes]

Song Recommendation:

Singin' In The Rain - Gene Kelly

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Playlist

90 years ago...

Soft jazz music played in the dimly lit club. People all around were dancing, drinking, and laughing. 

At the bar, stood a woman, taking a long drag off her cigarette, waiting for her date. She wore a green flapper dress, white satin gloves, and had the most beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes.

"This gent better hurry up," she muttered, taking another drag off her cigarette. 

"Can I get you anything, miss?" the bartender asked. 

"Just a little martini please," you said, keeping your eyes on the door.

"Right away, miss,"

As the bartender made her martini, she looked around the club, seeing people dance and having her fun with their friends. 

'I wish I had people like that,' she thought. 

"Here's your martini miss," the bartender said, snapping her out of her thoughts. 

"Thank you sir," she said, pulling out some dollar bills out of her purse and placing them on the counter. 

"Apologies for the delay, Gloria," said a voice. She turned her head and saw her date walking towards her. "I hope it didn't cause you any inconvenience, darling."

"It weren't no bother, Edward," she said, a fake smile on her face. "I already ordered from the speakeasy, hope you don't mind." 

"I don't mind one bit, sweetheart," Edward said, looking her up and down. "You're looking mighty fine this evening," 

Her eye twitched. She hated men like this. "Why thank you," she said. "It took me quite a while to get all dolled up like this."

"It surely was worth the effort," he said, licking his lips. "Care for another round, Gloria?"

"No thank you," she said chuckling. "I haven't even polished off my first one yet,"

"Suit yourself, darling," he said. "Hey barkeep, mind pourin' me some whiskey?"

"Care to dance?" Edward slurred, finishing his sixth glass of whiskey. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I promise I won't bite, doll," 

She bit the inside of her cheek. She really hated having to deal with people like this, but it was her job, and she couldn't turn the money it offered. 

"Ain't no harm in it, I suppose," she said, putting down her glass. "I'm a little bit rusty when it comes to dancin'." 

"No worries sugar. As long as I'm tanglin' with you, I'm alright," Edward said, grabbing her arm. "Say, I could show you a thing or two," he said suggestively. 

She had to hold back a laugh. Men like this really were simple creatures. "If you play your cards right, who knows what might unfold," she said, winking at him. 

This caused Edward to smirk. "Alright then, let's see what the night brings us, shall we?" 

"We shall,"

After two hours of dancing, talking, and drinking, all that she learned about Edward was that he was self absorbed asshole. He never asked her about herself, instead just talking about how much sex he'd had. 

"The dough better be worth puttin' up with this jerk," she muttered, as they swayed on the dancefloor, their bodies pressed up against each other. 

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"I reckon it's high time we go back to your place," she got on her tip toes and whispered in his ear seductively. "Don't ya think, Ed?"

"It's about time you asked, darling," he said, squeezing her ass. "You'd be downright stunning with all those threads off."

"Sounds like a plan," she said, removing herself from his grip. "Let's blow this joint,"

"Oh Ed," you panted, your back up against the alley wall. "Shouldn't we wait till we get to your pad?"

"I've been waitin' all night already," he growled, nipping at your neck. "Ain't waiting no more."

"That's what I was hopin' for," she said. 

"What's that supposed to mean, doll?" he said, still nipping at your neck. 

BANG!

With a scream of pain, Edward slumped onto her, but she just pushed him off her and onto the ground. 

"Men like you, they turn my stomach, see," she said, polishing off her gun with her dress. "Ain't that a hoot? You really thought I was into you." 

Edward was writhing in pain. He tried to get up, but she just kicked him back down. 

"Who-" he sputtered, blood coming out of his mouth. "Who- Who the hell are you?" 

"Well, I'm not Gloria, that's for certain," she smirked, putting her finger back on the trigger. "I'd sure love to stick around I chat, but unfortunately, I cannot. 

She aimed the gun at his head. "It's been a real pleasure knowin' ya, Edward."

"Wait! Please don't sho-"

BANG!

Edward's head lolled to the side, his eyes lifeless. 

"Serves ya right, you filthy pervert," she said, putting her gun back into the strap under her dress. 

She moved Edwards body further down the alley. Nobody would find him till morning. 

"Damn! He got blood all over my new shoes," she said, walking out of the alley. "Guess I'll have to get them cleaned proper."

The walk home was uneventful, besides men hitting on her. She felt very calm and at peace.

Everybody in town knew her as the sweetheart who owned the most popular flower shop in New Orleans. "Oh, if only they knew," she said to herself, giggling as she opened the door to the 'Employees Only' room to her flower shop. 

Stepping inside, she heard the barking of her Yorkie. "Honey!" she exclaimed, scooping up the dog in her arms. "Oh, I missed you so much, my love!"

She put her back down on the couch and went over and turned on the radio. "We'll go home as soon as finish some work up." she said to the snoring dog, as she carefully took out her blue contact lenses, revealing E/C eyes. 

The phone started to ring, walking over to answer it, she took off her blonde wig and set it on her big, oak desk. 

"This is Y/N, to whom am I speakin' to?" she asked, ruffling her fingers through her H/C hair. 

"This is Winston," a deep voice said. "Did you off him?" 

"Well that all hinges on you, Mr. Winston," she said, sitting down. "You got the dough?"

"Yeah, I got the dough,"

"How much?"

"One thousand,"

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Let's rendezvous at Broussard's at noon tomorrow. Does that work for you?"

"I suppose so yes,"

"Marvelous! Till then, Mr. Winston," she said, as she hung up the phone. 

She didn't like the song that was playing on the radio. Picking up the phone once again, she dialed the radio station number. 

"You've reached Alastor Altruist!" said the voice at the other side of the line. "To whom do I have the pleasure of speakin' to at this late hour?" 

"The names Y/N," she said into the phone. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

"What a beautiful name you have, Y/N," he said, making her smile. "The pleasure's all mine, I assure you."

"I was hopin' I could put in a request for a song?" she asked. "If it's no trouble, of course."

"Why it's no trouble at all, my dear!" he exclaimed. "What's on your mind?" 

"Singin' In The Rain by Cliff Edwards," she said, "It's a wonderful song."

"It's a real classic, ain't it?" he said. "You'll be hearin' it right after this song,"

"Thank you so much," she gushed. 

"You're quite welcome, dear," Alastor said. "Have a good night, Y/N."

"You as well, Alastor," she said, hanging up the phone. 

There was something about each other's voice that the both of them enjoyed. They both hoped they would hear it more often. 

I really wish I was in hell with him right now :(

this banner was made by the lovely @al-of-the-stars i'll be usin it for the rest of this fanfic

stay safe and drink lots of water <33

xoxo, Izzy

[hyunjinsbelovedamericano]

Skz when their partner can't sleep

i couldn't sleep when i thought of this so

i can't sleep~

teeth rotting fluff,not proof read yet

Bangchan

He probably wouldn't be able to sleep either,and most of stays sleep schedules are wrecked so he would do a live with you.He would go on Channie's room and do whatever.Comments like"Why aren't you guys asleep?","Go back to bed" would fly through."I don't know what you guys are talking about,its 1 in the afternoon.You know time zones?"but stay know thats its 2 am where you are so your attempt on manipulating them failed

Minho

You guys would rate children's drawings,yk those tiktoks where the teacher rates their students drawings.Thats you guys but you're not teachers."Who is that supposed to be?" "Barney","Then why does it look like grimace if took he meth".You guys would probably receive noise complaints for how loud you'll be laughing,but they would laugh just as loud if they saw these drawings

Changbin

Watch rip-off movies,have you guys seen that video where benoftheweek was watching rip-off movies.Yes.Instead Ratatouille your watching ratatoing,instead of the bee movie you're watching plan b."This animation is giving me nightmares","This is torture".Changbin couldn't stop laughing at the names of the movies,"Who wrote this"he would be in tears

Hyunjin

This one is more wholesome than the previous,i feel like he would read poems to you,even better read HIS poems to you,they would be the cutest things ever😭😭,i think he would also make you some tea,massage your head whilst reading the poems.(I need a fanfic on this NOW),he would have such a soothing voice reading them and then scream in your ear(jk...maybe),he wants you to get your 8 hours even though that might mean that he can't

Han

He would eat midnight snacks with you,even though it's not midnight he'll still have snacks.You would try new foods,"This taste likes bbamba's foot","How do you know how his foot taste like?","..." ,you would go late night shopping at those 24/7 stores,han would be scared if its 3am,"why are you so scared","have you not seen those do not watch at 3am videos?"You would just laugh at him,he's such a child

Felix

As we know Felix,is a tiktok king.He would post tiktoks with you,you would explore so many trends and do almost all of them.You would also have a debate why the tiktoks should go on his account or your account,"I deserve this tiktok","No i do".You would do funny tiktoks,dance tiktoks etc.a lot of them would go in the drafts and you would also have a debate on which you should post,"I look like a rat in this tiktok.","Exactly"

Seungmin

This is also one of the wholesome ones,I feel like he would sing you to sleep.His soft gentle voice singing you melodies AHDSUDGDEIURRH that's too cute 😭,he would try to calm you down make you tired because who doesn't want to sleep.Especially with his vocals the song could be rock and he would somehow make it sound soft,he would sing your favourite songs and if you don't say a skz song he would add one in there

Jeongin

He would do skincare with you,you have a bunch of products so it would be quite time consuming."What does this do?","Something".You would take pictures with face masks on because it's a vibe.You would also go online shopping for more products,"Buy the rose jelly one ","No" he would add it to your cart when your not looking,when it arrives and you ask him about he would pretend not to know anything about it

[dtmsrpfcringe]

We don't hate women. We hate women who are abusive towards their partners.

Michael and David both deserve better and just because you want to buy into what PR and social media tells you, you don't have to attack other people for being upset over actors they care about possibly not being happy.

David wouldn't leave Georgia, they are married and have children, so he feels responsible. He always puts other people before himself. And Anna played it well with the babies, as harsh as it sounds. Michael would feel terrible leaving the girls. People staying in relationships doesn't prove you right, sadly. It's no sign of anything other than commitment and commitment doesn't always come from a place of love.

By saying that Michael and David shippers want to see them unhappy in their relationship, you show that you're missing the point. The whole point of shipping them is wanting them to be happy. You just want to be hateful towards people who don't suppprt your narrative, it seems.

GOD I WISH TUMBLR WOULD LET ME ADD TEXTS BEFORE ASKS SO I COULD SAY “Warning: you’re about to hear one of the most moronic takes I have ever heard” *insert gif of amanojaku from ghost stories here* okay let’s…we have to break this down it’s too much for me to just laugh at and go “wow this is dumb as hell”

“We don’t hate women, we just make up stuff so we can justify hating them”- you. where’s…where’s any shred of proof that either women are even a little bit abusive? I mean don’t you think we would have seen some of that by now? And no, enty lawyer doesn’t count as proof and neither does random screenshots of a bit of text with zero context. Also neither do jokes online with your partner when they’re okay with it (and make the same jokes quite literally all the time) and nobody sees a problem with it except the people that conveniently hate these women.

2. “Michael and David both deserve better” yes I’m sure the rich white middle aged men who are two of the most popular actors in their countries who have girlfriends/wives and kids who love and adore them are surely hurting because some weirdo on tumblr says it.

3. Hate to tell you this but married people with children divorce all the time. It’s not like if they divorce he is going to suddenly vanish in a puff of smoke babe.

4. Even if that’s true, your theory of him only staying out of responsibility is bullshit. Someone who stays for the kids isn’t going to dip their wife into a kiss on the red carpet and look at her like a hozier song sounds. If there’s any event or interview where he can find a way to praise Georgia, he does it. He always talks about her. After events they’ve been seen kissing deeply and walking arm in arm honeymoon style.

5. as for Anna and Michael, (David and Georgia too but they seem more open to pda) they don’t owe you pda. Michael has been more than adamant about defending his girlfriend on twitter and good for him about it.

6. if you guys were genuinely concerned with Michael and David’s impending relationship crashes, why is it always tied to their love for one another? The only people who see This rampant “abuse and unhappiness” is this group of people who believe David and Michael are actually in love and want to elope together. Nobody else. Not even other Sheenant shippers. You guys literally just hate them, I mean Invisibleicewands has been talking shit on Anna since she posted her first photo with Michael back in 2019 and hasn’t stopped.

7. “And Anna played it well with the babies, as harsh as it sounds.” seriously what the absolute crap is this supposed to mean my dude? I’ve gotta be honest….you know how smex works right? Michael could absolutely choose to use protection!!! Why is it on her? Not on him. He’s had kids before I think he knows that a stork doesn’t bring the baby. Holy hell you people make my eyes hurt

8. (finally) funny you should bring up narratives, you know considering you’re part of the group that thinks any affection towards anybody else that isn’t them is PR (thinking of the Joseph Fiennes hug fiasco) that lied about Georgia and Anna being abusive, that has tried time and time again and moved the goalpost, that fabricates evidence and tries to send death threats to people who speak out, and then lie about it, that your group is the one who can’t handle women working together and have to call everything PR. The same group that ignores the fact that Anna and Georgia are friends, to talk grave shit on them. Newsflash sweetheart, we aren’t the ones pushing the narrative here. You only want to see David and Michael happy as long as it aligns with your delusion. Have the day you deserve.

anyways, I think this is going to be my pinned post. Mostly because I want this to be embarrassing if you ever try to come back here and lie on Betty whites internet again, but also because I think this addresses so many tin hat talking points at once. Just because we love aziraphale and crowley doesn't mean we get the right to insert ourselves into their personal lives, you wouldn't want someone else praying for your relationship to fail.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 14

Hello! Thank you so much for all the love the last chapter got! It was amazing to see.

In this chapter we have the Nancy take down. And if you've been following along on WIP Wednesday you know who awesome it is, and if you haven't you are in for a treat.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Eddie was starting to think that he was more nervous to meet up with Nancy than Steve was. His boyfriend was calm, collected, and determined.

He was in awe.

Eddie, on the other hand, was a wreck. He had to keep wiping him palms on his jeans, which did nothing to stop the one knee bouncing under the table.

Probably because he knew something Steve didn’t. Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys were ready to pull the plug if this meeting went south. They weren’t going to stand by an agent who treat ‘Abbadon’ and the rest of The Fallen that way.

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to convince Gareth without letting it slip that Abbadon was Steve, but a miracle occurred and they had all four members on board.

They had decided to meet at the studio where it would be home turf for Steve and they could speak more openly about the band and their alter egos.

Benny was in the editor’s booth arranging some of the songs they had already recorded and would be on hand if they needed a moderator.

When Nancy arrived, she let herself into the recording booth. Steve’s back was to Benny so he couldn’t see his face, and Eddie was in a chair nearby. A small tray of goodies was on the table with water and coffee to drink. Steve had his hands wrapped tightly around a water bottle, Eddie’s first indication that Steve wasn’t as calm as he thought he was.

“I understand I’m supposed to call you Abbadon during this meeting?” she said in lieu of a greeting.

Steve pointed up to the booth behind him. “This is our producer, Bob Newby. He’s working today and doesn’t have the low down on who I am, but he’s listening in to keep things all fair and civil. Say hi, Bob!”

“Hi, Bob!” Bob repeated back dutifully. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted to make sure a couple of the track were laying like they’re supposed to.”

Nancy looked up at the cheerful man and then back at Steve. “Hey, Bob. I’m Nancy Wheeler. It’s nice to meet you.”

Bob’s grin was infectious. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” He waved at her and went back to what he was doing.

“I was hoping that we would be able to dispense with the charade so we could speak frankly,” she said, sitting down on one of the nearby chairs and folding her hands on her lap.

Steve licked his upper row of teeth, slow and dangerous. “I would have to trust you more for that and I really, really don’t.”

Her eyes flicked up to the sound booth and then over to Eddie. “I thought the point of bringing Eddie was so that he would be the mediator.”

“Oh I volunteered!” Bob said gleefully. “I offered to mediate so that Mr. Munson could be the bodyguard.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but slammed it shut when she saw that even Eddie was looking her with suspicion too.

Nancy took a deep breath and leaned forward on her elbows. “Before we started dating I was looking for a way to elevate my social status. My mom was always going on about how popular she was in high school, but I was too interested in books and journalism to put much stock in it my freshman year.” She sighed and straightened up. “So over the summer I had her teach me how do my hair and makeup. How to flirt and act with boys. But I wanted more than just a climb up the ladder.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance. Eddie shook his head, while Steve rolled his eyes. He waved for her to continue.

She licked her lips and then scooted forward to grab a bottle of water. She took a long drink, cradling it in her hands as she started up again.

“I wanted to rebel,” Nancy said with a little eye roll of her own. “It was stupid. I wanted someone who my parents would raise an eyebrow at. But I didn’t want a ‘bad boy’, I didn’t want to actually hurt my chances to get into college.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Seriously, what the actual fuck, Nance!”

Steve reached out and put his hand on his knee. Eddie looked over at him, but quieted down.

“The king of the school was prefect,” she said with a shrug. “Top of the social ladder, known ladies man, a bit of dick and a bully, but nice enough that he wouldn’t harm me. So I did my research. I found out what kind of girl he went for and molded myself into that.”

Steve held up a single finger. “I’m giving you three strikes before I kick you out with great joy. You talking about me as if I was a separate person will not be tolerated. Because it removes you from the guilt of what you did. Try again.”

Nancy huffed and stomped her foot, but when Eddie raised an unimpressed eyebrow, she huffed again but did as she was told.

“You were always a means to an end,” she admitted quietly. “And then Will was kidnapped and Jonathan and I were thrown together because I thought Barb’s disappearance was connected.”

Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

“Didn’t Barb runaway with her boyfriend?” Eddie asked, tilting his head.

Steve nodded. “Used my party as a cover. A party she wasn’t even invited to, no less.”

“As I found out later,” Nancy agreed. “But you have to understand. I was her best friend, I figured that she would have at least told me about her plans.”

Steve had his own thoughts about the best friends bit, but he kept them to himself. He always assumed that Barb had used Nancy the way Nancy was admitting to using Steve.

“When I broke up with you the first time,” she continued, “I thought Jonathan and I had something special, something that couldn’t be broken. But he asked for time. He wanted to spend time with Will now that they had gotten him back. And I tried.”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “A month. You were back with him by Christmas break. In fact I didn’t even know you two had broken up during that month until I started hanging out with Abbadon and he told me about your small break you two took.”

She ducked her head and folded her arms over stomach. “Something I wasn’t aware of myself that other people didn’t notice the first break up.”

Steve scoffed. “Everyone sure as hell knew about the second one though.”

Nancy huffed a small laugh. “I think it was in the broadcast news and all the newspapers. It was pretty hard to miss.”

“So why did you come back to me after the first time?” he asked, pained.

“After having a boyfriend for a couple of months,” she explained, “I found that after month of not being with someone that it was hard to go back to being single.”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “So I was always just a convenience to you?”

“Uh, hey,” Bob said into the resulting silence. “Sorry to interrupt and shit. And story time has been fantastic. Riveting even. But I haven’t heard anything like an apology or even remorse. So maybe hurry up and get to the point?”

“Look St–Abbadon,” she corrected with a roll of her eyes.

“Strike two, Nancy,” Steve called out. “You slipping up like that makes it really hard to trust you with a secret as big as ours.” He was cool on the outside, but on the inside, his heart was screaming at his brain to run. Just fucking run. He probably would have had Eddie not been there.

Nancy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. That was a dumb mistake and one that could not only cost me a lot of money, but clients in droves. I’m sorry.”

“That was the first sincere thing you’ve said,” Bob said, his voice crackling through the microphone. “And it was about money.”

Her head snapped up and she looked affronted at the booth. Bob just gave her a cheeky smile and jaunty wave.

“You don’t regret using me do you?” Steve asked, his voice quiet and steely.

Nancy clasped her hands together and licked her lips. Her bottle long since emptied. “It’s really not that simple, Abbadon and it wasn’t as though you didn’t use people and throw them away, too. Look at Tommy H. and Carol. As soon as they crossed whatever invisible line you had on their bullshit and you told them to fuck off.”

Steve slowly stood up and walked up to the coffee table that separated them. “That was different and you know it. It took a lot for me to walk away from their abuse. It was you. You gave me the courage to walk away because I thought you had my back. But it’s clear you didn’t then, you don’t now, and you won’t ever.”

He clenched his fists and then jammed them in his pockets. “I refuse to have an agent who is so cutthroat that they are willing to hurt whoever is in their way, because one day it might be me.”

“Think about what you are saying,” Nancy implored. “Most agents aren’t going to take you on because of the anonymity clause. I was the last resort. You have no one else to go to.”

Steve bit his lip. He didn’t want her. She would stab him in the back, her lack of respect for him was oozing off of her like the smell of sweaty unwashed festival goers The Fallen were forced to endure when they first started.

Just as he was about to give in, about to throw in the towel and admit defeat, his phone rang.

“Abbadon,” he greeted, answering it without looking at the caller ID.

“Oh good! You’re still at the studio!” a very excited Robin nearly screamed into his ear.

“Celeste,” Steve said, warningly. “Too loud.”

Robin giggled maniacally. “Can’t stop, won’t stop.”

Eddie stood up and came over to see what the fuss was about. Nancy’s smug expression slid off her face as she frowned.

“What’s up?” Steve prompted.

“I got a call from an up and coming agent,” she said. “She’s got a few good clients, a couple of comedians, a B-list actor or two, but everyone I’ve talked to loves her.”

Steve straightened up, but at the same time his shoulders relaxed. “Tell me more about her.”

“Her name is Vickie Cameron,” Robin enthused. “She’s been in the business for about three years. Just like the band. She’s really out-going and friendly. And getting a band like The Fallen would be a huge win for her. Allow her to expand into music.”

“Hey, Celeste,” Eddie said over Steve’s shoulder. “You think she would be interested in two big bands to rep for?”

Nancy was on her feet. “What?!”

Robin cackled. “As in the biggest band in the world right now?”

Eddie looked up at Nancy with a feral grin. “That would be the one.”

“I’m sure she’d be thrilled.”

Nancy stepped forward, her hands clenched at her sides. “You can’t do that!”

Eddie just shrugged. “Can and will, darlin’. Before walking into this meeting, I had a talk with all my boys and they all agreed that if you were shit to Abbadon, we’d back out too.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Robin said. “I’ll contact Chrissy and the both of us will meet up with her to discuss the details.”

“And what is her stance on the onstage personas?” Steve asked looking over at Nancy.

She brightened. This could be it for her.

“Her words were, and I quote ‘It would be a fucking travesty if they were forced to reveal their identities.’”

Nancy’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide.

“She loves the onstage personas,” Robin continued. “She says that what makes the band a major part of the metal scene and to take that away would not only be a disservice to band but to their fans too.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then they both turned at looked at Nancy with great big grins on their faces.

“And that’s all she wrote, folks!” Bob said from the booth. “I believe you can show yourself out, but I’m gonna anyway.”

Steve turned into Eddie’s shoulder so his face would be covered as Bob popped out of the booth and opened the door to the recording room.

“After you,” he said with the biggest smile on his face.

Nancy grabbed her purse and marched out. Steve picked up the mask and held it a moment.

“You want to know the best part of all this?” he said, looking over his shoulder at Eddie.

“What’s that, sweetheart?”

He slipped the mask on over his face. “The NDA is for the life of the band. Even if ten years down the line we come out to public with our real identities, all she can say on the matter is ‘no comment.’”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Steve turned around and grinned. He had his answers about Nancy and Jonathan. He had her seen out and she had lost her biggest client because she couldn’t find it in her to be nice to him.

It was a good day.

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

I honestly don't know how long this is going to go, I have barely got to the tour and it just keeps stretching out like a god damn taffy pull. I think this will be the longest fic I've ever written, so there's that. I also worry I've been focusing too much on dialogue and not action.

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop

[stellar-constellations]

Star Patient: Chapter 7 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), descriptions of self-harming, accusations of cheating, child death, death of major and minor characters, OC's are used throughout the story for plot and depth, reader is in denial and paranoid, toxic family dynamics, perversive thoughts, reader is bipolar (not saying that in a quirky way, like literally bipolar), religious comparisons, light mention of demons, stalkers, possibly more to add.

Inaccurate canon-timeline and setting (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents). They also live in America (because I wasn't aware they lived in Europe prior to this series).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 15,100+ words

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

        The sound of holy hymns filled the tall church, the painting of a man looming over (Y/N) as she avoided the male’s eyes. Religious paintings just always looked creepy, their eyes just always followed you. What was even more creepier is making prolonged eye contact with the same boy for two minutes now. 

        Bright brown eyes stared at her own for 120 seconds now, 115 seconds too long for a normal gander to be. Perhaps he was just looking at the people behind her? Or maybe she has something on her face? Dear God, please don’t let it be that he can hear just how awful she sounds when singing. It was like her voice was a sin to this holy choir. 

        (Y/N) finally broke eye contact with the male, deciding to look back at the painting of the sacred male. Even he wasn’t as creepy as that boy’s staring was, whatever his name was. 

        The church reeked of burning incense and an old lady’s strong floral perfume. It almost hurt having her mother and some strange next to her singing—practically screaming—into her ears while she did her best to memorize the lyrics. It was hard to remember what came after “I’ve been set free” when all she could think about was being set free to the food trucks outside calling her name for lunch. 

        Finally, the song ended as she sung the finally sentence.

        “You are forever mine.”

        What a creepy thing to say to anyone, to any god or not.

        (Y/N) stretched her limbs, earning herself a swat to her arm as her mother whispered for her to fix her dress before it rides up on her. She smoothed down her dress skirt, reaching behind and fluffing the white bow sewn to the dark blue dress.

        She was excited to go eat some food, then get out of these damn flats that kept pinching her toes. She watched as people filed out of the church, making her eyes meeting bright brown ones as they stared at her through the crowd.

        Has he even looked away once during this whole session? 

        .

        .

        “Hey, maybe he likes you?” Lola suggested, lounging on the library couch, taking up most of the space as her arm draped over the arm rest, her legs lying on (Y/N)’s thighs.

        “God, I hope not…” (Y/N) groaned, tilting her head back to hit the couch cushion just to be a bit more dramatic. “I don’t even know his name. That’s grounds for instant rejection.”

        “Well, is he cute?” Lola questioned, curious as she watched (Y/N) copy notes from her computer onto her notebook. 

        “I mean… I dunno? I think?” (Y/N) shrugged. “Gosh, Lo. You know I don’t ever notice that. Looks aren’t everything, you know?” 

        “Well, my future husband is definitely gonna have brown hair, brown eyes to match and a dashing, symmetrical face." Lola smirked.

        “Please, you’re asking too much. Your face isn’t even symmetrical.” Annabelle scoffed, sitting on the harsh library carpets. 

        “Shut up! I’m gonna get laser surgery for this mole when I have enough money!” Lola whined, hitting Annabelle upside the head.

        “I meant your nose, dummy!” Annabelle hissed, cradling her head where she’s been hit. "But that too!" 

        “Jerk!” Lola exclaimed, going to hit Annabelle once more, but Annabelle was quick enough to catch her wrist. “Stop touching me, Anna!”

        “Then you stop hitting me!” Annabelle retorted as their hands wrestled with one another.

        “Hey, hey! Stop! You’re messing up my notes!” (Y/N) hissed, hitting her shoulder against Lola’s.

        “Stop, that’s not fair. You’re double-teaming!” Lola whined.

        The school bell rung, prompting the three to halt their fight. (Y/N) packed up her notebook and computer with a sigh.

        “Damn it… I didn’t get to finish my notes.” (Y/N) complained, throwing her backpack strap over her shoulder.

        “I don’t know how you do it, girl. Being a nurse sounds like it’s such a drag, having to kiss up to everyone’s ass.” Lola sighed, looking at her hands to make sure her nail polish didn’t get ruined during their tussle. “Ah, damn it, Annabelle! You chipped my nail!”

        “Which one?” Annabelle questioned, looking over at Lola’s yellow nails. 

        “This one.” Lola smirked, holding up her middle finger.

        “You little—“  

        (Y/N) yelped, her body hitting the wall as her legs gave out from the unexpected force, knocking her to the ground. Two hands grabbed the collar of her blazer, pulling her right back up to her feet as they cornered her against the wall.

        “Was it you?” a male spoke, his fists shaking with anger as his green eyes met (Y/N)’s.

        “Hey! Hands off her, Ben!” Annabelle spat out, her hand touching the male’s shoulder.

        “Bud out, I’m talking with the freak!” Ben hissed, shrugging her hand off his shoulder. “Was it you?” he repeated, his eyes glaring back at (Y/N).

        “I can’t confirm anything if you don’t tell me, moron.” (Y/N) retorted, annoyed as she tried to pry his hands off her. 

        An uncomfortable feeling grew inside her stomach at the close proximity they shared, the tension downright suffocating as she resisted the urge to puke. 

        Dear stomach, don’t let me vomit on him… I’ll never go to school again. (Y/N) prayed to her stomach. 

        “Did you steal my wallet?” he finally spoke. “I had a three hundred dollars in cash and two gift cards, did you steal them?!”

        “Lay off, dude. She was with us this morning!” Lola spoke. 

        “Yeah, I didn’t steal anything.” (Y/N) huffed, finally prying his hands off her blazer’s collar.

        “I swear to God, if it was you I’ll kill you.” Ben spat, his finger jabbing into her sternum. “You’re a freak, just like your father.” He spoke, before storming off down the school hallways.

        “What an asshole.” Lola scoffed. 

        “People like that shouldn’t be let loose into the public.” Annabelle growled, before looking at (Y/N). “You okay?”

        “I’m just fine and dandy. Everything’s intact.” (Y/N) muttered, dusting off her blazer and skirt. “It’s not like he stabbed me or anything, so I’m fine.”

        “Jeez, girl. You really need to be more… phased? Like, get pissed off at him! Punch him! Kick him in the balls!” Lola encouraged.

        “Why would I waste my time on such pointless things…?” (Y/N) sighed, subconsciously picking at her nails. “I mean, Ben’s been doing this crap since middle school.” 

        “He doesn’t have any right to treat you like that!” Annabelle huffed. “If you won’t kick him in the balls, I will.” 

        “Can we not talk about Ben’s balls?” (Y/N) whined, a bit embarrassed at this stupid topic. “Just forget it, guys. I mean, this is senior year. We’re going to be graduating in three months, then I’ll never see him again so the problem will be solved.” 

        “The Almighty Lord blessed you with something I don’t have; patience.” Lola sighed, fanning her face exaggeratedly to show how heated she was about the matter.

        “The offer is still on the table if you want me to—“ 

        “No.” (Y/N) interrupted Annabelle, who just sent a pouting glare her way.

        Annabelle was a short, black haired girl with brown eyes and a serious passion for weightlifting. She even won an award for the best high school female-weightlifter in the state, being able to carry Annabelle was (Y/N)’s best friend since pre-school. They met in the sand box, where a boy stomped out (Y/N)’s sandcastle, so Annabelle dumped sand in his hair. That sand was in his hair for at least a couple days—it looked like lice to where the caregivers had to inspect and comb through everyone’s hair to make sure there wasn’t a lice that would soon infect other kids.

        They met Lola during their first year of middle school. Lola came into the year late as a new girl. She had bleached blonde hair with pink highlights in them (her natural hair color is unknown since she’s been dying it since she was six, not even in her photo gallery does she have a picture of her natural hair). 

        Lola hit it off with Annabelle instantly, the two meeting in after school’s photography club—which is the cover name. In actuality, it’s mostly just a place for friends to hang out after school and lie to their parents about doing important school stuff; however, the club does take pictures of pep assemblies and football games for the yearbook (albeit half of the photos are crappy and extremely unflattering). 

        The two girls are always begging (Y/N) to join the club, (Y/N)’s always rejected because she’s studying for college and to keep her college scholarship for a extremely well-liked nursing academy. After graduating that academy as a nurse, she can continue studying and work up the ranks to become a pediatrician! 

        So she has no time to be fooling off inside a club. She didn’t have that time as she did back in middle school. Well, she was practically a shell of a person.

        (Y/N) got hit with a large wave of depression. She’s not quite sure why it just suddenly came up on her. Maybe it was because of the abuse she suffered as a child, maybe it was because of the bullying she would receive at school because of who her father was, or maybe it was because she didn’t have a good personality or looks. Whatever it was, it weighed her down for months, making it hard to get out of bed, hard to shower, hard to eat, hard to brush her teeth. Everything ached with pain. She didn’t know what hurt more; her brain or her heart?           Annabelle and Lola were there for her though. They would encourage her to eat a little, to step outside for a bit, to shop for new clothes that would make her feel comfortable. Even after multiple suicide attempts, they never blamed her for how she felt, and they never gave up on her. Maybe the only reason she quit dying was because of them.

        “Hey, the bell is gonna ring in a minute.” Lola pointed out, holding her phone as she stared at the time, her 2008’s preppy Hello Kitty aesthetic wallpaper staring at her. 

        “Damn.” Annabelle sighed, disappointed as she rubbed her neck. “Well, see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

        The two girls still had club after school, so they’ll be seeing each other. After lunch, (Y/N) doesn’t have any classes with them, so lunch is her last chance to see her friends before leaving school. 

        “Stay shining, star girl!” Lola spoke, sending (Y/N) her own starry smile as she referenced (Y/N)'s star hairlip, her lips coated in a light transparency of pink strawberry lipgloss. 

        “I’m gonna hit the bathroom real quick. If I’m late to class or not be damned.” (Y/N) smiled, waving them off as she parted ways with them. 

        (Y/N) glided down the hallway, before reaching the bathroom, pushing open the door and immediately making a dash to the toilet without even bothering to close the stall door. She dropped to her knees, balancing herself by placing her hands on the walls (so she wouldn’t touch the dirty toilet) and puked.

        She had been holding that in ever since Ben slammed her up against that wall and shouted at her. The scene was absolutely terrifying to her, being trapped so close to an aggressive male like that did not feel good in the slightest.  

        How the hell do romance protagonists go through that? (Y/N) questioned herself, before another wave of nausea hit her as she thought about earlier, prompting her to lean over and puke once more. 

        Her father taught her many things in life; to raise a chicken and slaughter a chicken, to ride a horse and clean horseshoes, to tell the difference between ripe and unripe fruits, and to never trust a boy.

        “Boys are disgusting creatures.” He would say.

        “You should never trust a boy.” He would say.

        “Boys only care about their satisfaction and pleasure. Everything about you is irrelevant.” He would say.

        But men and boys are different. What makes a boy a boy is that they’re stupid, immature, and selfish. A man is someone who sacrifices themself for their family, and treats his wife and daughter with respect and kindness.

        How can you tell the difference between a man and a boy if it’s not puberty that separates them? How do you know until before it’s too late? 

        Truth is, her father has always been distrustful of men in general—though he’s never explained why. She has a feeling it’s because of his upbringing. Maybe he grew up in a bad neighborhood, or maybe he had an abusive father; whatever it was, he didn’t want (Y/N) knowing about it.

        But even though he hates boys with a passion that rivals the Greek Goddess of Passion Aphrodite, sometimes he doesn’t always act like a man.

        There’s been moments where he’s screamed, punched holes inside the walls, been gone for nights after a time, on a very rare chance break stuff. Sometimes he remembers the episodes, sometimes he doesn’t. When he does remember them, he cries and apologizes, hugging (Y/N)’s mother Rose and her. He cries about how sorry he was, and how he doesn’t mean to overreact, and how he begs them not to leave because of his problem. 

        Rose will never leave; she likes the familiarity of her home town and the memories of the farm. (Y/N) knows she’ll never leave the farm. 

        The farm is extremely important to the town. It provides lots of the local strawberries for bakeries and jams. It provides the church parties to have their famous loaded mashed potatoes and potato bread. It provides Rose’s pockets with money in cold hard cash. The farm is so damn rich that it even regularly transported goods to three different states nearby. 

        Rose is sitting on a hill of riches supported by her family’s farm of 120 acres all the way on the edge of the small, close-knit town. The farm was passed down in Rose’s family for three generations now. The farm is so important that every inheritor must only have one child, that way the children can’t fight over the farm when the parent dies. 

        (Y/N) is expected to have a single child too, her mother has drilled that into her head enough. Rose always babbles on about how (Y/N) will inherit the farm when she dies. Her daughter must not be a whore and spread her legs for any boy; he must be a farmer, he must be her husband, and they must only have one child. 

        Rose is extremely serious about the farm, despite it being farmhands who tend to the farm. Rose doesn’t help out, she decided to become a nurse for some more money. 

        People think “Oh, Rose is so good, but her husband Frank is just a monster” but in actuality Rose is more of a monster than (Y/N) is.

        (Y/N) spent the early years of her life locked in her damn room because of that witch. (Y/N) was forced to starve for hours to even days at a time while Frank laid unaware of what was going on to his daughter. Frank was consistently discriminated against, and constantly on his feet burning and cutting his fingers off in the auto shop, working grueling hours from open to closed because of mandatory overtime (which was actually just to drive the poor bastard out of down, or at least make him suffer for his condition “the Devil himself” gave him). 

        Frank had no idea the abuse and neglect (Y/N) received. (Y/N) wasn’t even aware it was abuse because she grew up like that ever since she was potty-trained. 

        (Y/N)’s early years revolved around watching TV, sleeping, and crying. Well, at least she had water she would drink out of the bathroom sink. 

        Rose spent the time working while (Y/N) was locked up, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to shove (Y/N) in that dreadful dark room just for  her to neglect her duties as a parent. Anything to get out of cooking, cleaning, or spending bonding time with her daughter. 

        Another wave of nausea hit (Y/N) as she vomited once more. Her throat burned from her stomach acid and stomach enzymes. Her lungs hurt trying to breathe whilst her heart slammed against her rib cage. Her ears were ringing and her eyes had tears in them. 

        A flash and a camera shutter got her attention, causing her to spin her head around to look at the source, only for another shutter to echo in the bathroom walls as she was blinded by a bright light.

        “Looks like the freak is self-purging.” A girl laughed. “This has to at least go viral on some platform. Not that you’re much to look at though.” 

        (Y/N) groaned, her throat aching from the vibration as she closed her eyes, cursing herself for not shutting the stall door. 

        “Y-you got it wrong…” (Y/N) muttered, meeting the girl’s blue eyes. 

        Kate’s had it out for (Y/N) for who knows how long. Kate’s been more of a bully than Ben has, and for longer too. Kate’s dad works with (Y/N)’s father Frank, and they don’t get on good terms (either because of her father’s disorder or because of Frank being given Kate’s dad’s hours for “mandatory overtime” only Frank has to do). Maybe because Kate’s dad hates (Y/N)’s father, Kate hates (Y/N)?

        (Y/N)’s eyes glanced over at the girls who were with Kate. Jen and Shell; though their real names were Jenny and Shelly. They were sisters, but honestly they’re pretty irrelevant in (Y/N)’s eyes. She just couldn’t bother to care enough about them since they didn’t speak much. Their current goal in life is to piggyback off of Kate, but maybe in the future they’ll mature and go their own separate paths—that at least make’s (Y/N) a little happy for change.

        “I wasn’t throwing up food. You took this out of context…” (Y/N) muttered, wiping her mouth with toilet paper.

        “Right… looks like…” Kate took a few steps to the stall, standing behind (Y/N), making uncomfortable shivers crawl up her spine. “Looks like the cafeteria pizza. What? Are you saving it for dinner tonight?” Kate snarked before smiling. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were starving yourself. Everyone knows you tried to kill yourself—I think that's the best idea you've had in your miserable life."

        In a small town like this, gossip gets around quick. One of her doctors or nurses were probably a parent to one of the kids here, so they let something slip. It breaches hospital code in keeping patient's confidential, but in a small town like this, there's not much consequences. 

        A flame of annoyance flickered in (Y/N) eyes, a boiling pit in her stomach. She stood up, dusting the rocks and dirt off her knees. She looked at Kate with distain, her eyes flickering towards Kate’s phone.

        She could throw the stupid plastic flip-phone into the toilet and flush it down, but she decided against it. There were three girls against herself, so the odds of winning a fight are not in her favor at the moment. Besides, (Y/N)'s trapped inside the stall, so her escape options are limited in case she does start a fight. She could bulldoze her way between the three girls, but then again, that's three girls. She can't really crawl under the stall because someone can just grab her leg and pull her right back—so she's at a disadvantage to win a fight. 

        “We’re late for class.” (Y/N) sighed. “I recommend getting to class soon, otherwise Mr. Jones will throw a fit.

        Kate glared at (Y/N) as she walked past them, muttering the smart words of “stupid bitch…”

        (Y/N) made it out of the bathroom safely, and without a fight too.

        Let them post that photo. (Y/N) thought, her footsteps echoing throughout the hallway. It’s not gonna be the end of the world. I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        I’ve had worse.

        That’s always been the same stupid excuse she’s used whenever someone bad happens to her in life. She just can’t accept that she’s allowed to be angry, or sad, or afraid of anything; it’s always “I’ve had worse.” 

        She could fall down a set of stairs and ruin her science project she’s spent a month on, 70 bucks down the drain, but “I’ve had worse. At least I’m not admitted in a hospital room again.” 

        She could break her arm falling off one of her horse’s, but “I’ve had worse, at least I’m not starving.” 

        When will it be worse? What’s gonna top the next thing? 

        Because eventually, there’s gonna be something worse. There’s always something worse for (Y/N).

        A notification pops up on her phone, prompting (Y/N) to check it. 

        “Online transfer: +$300” 

        “What the…?” she muttered, confused.

        A minute later, another notification popped up. 

        “Withdrawal: -$300”

        Ah, it must be one of her parents. Her parents has access to her banking accounts and information, so one of them must’ve accidentally sent money to the wrong account and quickly withdrew the payment.

        She goes back to her classroom, receiving a stink eye from the teacher, Mr. Jones. 

        Mr. Jones also wasn’t a fan of (Y/N), well, more so her father. During the summer enrollment, you got to check out your classes and meet your teachers. Frank was absolutely livid to see a male as (Y/N)’s teacher. He was knocking down chairs and cussing a storm that the principal had to be brought down and threatened to call the cops if Frank didn’t leave. 

        It’s a miracle (Y/N) didn’t get expelled with some shitty excuse or something because of that scandal. Maybe that’s because this high school was the only one in their small town, and (Y/N) was about to graduate soon, so there would’ve been no point in trying to destroy her education when she’s so close to leaving.

        “Well, look who decided to show up.” Mr. Jones spoke, placing his dry eraser marker down, halting the learning of the classroom. “Wanna tell the class what was so important that you just had to skip the first ten minutes of my class?”

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She missed the days where elementary teachers would get down on your level and whisper to you so you wouldn’t get embarrassed in front of the class. 

        Or maybe she just wants to be coddled like a child…

        “I’m sorry, sir. I had a period problem.” (Y/N) lied.

        She had no shame or embarrassment, not with lying, and not talking about her body functions either. She was a human with a uterus, so if the teacher had a problem with then, then the school will too (or, at least they should).

        “Oh.” Mr. Jones scoffed, not entirely convinced. “Nice save. But if it happens again next week, I’ll be onto you.” 

        Yeah, he wouldn’t dare go against the teaching board. Even if he did, the student body of females would protest; (Y/N) may not be the most popular, but when it comes to woman functions, girls got each other’s back.

        Or they should.

        “Go take your seat.” Mr. Jokes spoke.

        (Y/N) walked down the row of students, jumping over Ben’s foot as he tried to trip her. She made it to her desk safely in the back of the class.

        Mr. Jones assigned the seats, perhaps he assigned her in the back so he wouldn’t see her father and be reminded of her father. Or maybe he just doesn’t like her in general. 

        (Y/N) sat down in her seat, confused to see someone had taken the desk next to her. That desk was always empty due to how small the student body was. It was a small town after all, so there were always empty seats in classrooms. 

        She recognized those brown eyes—it was the boy from her church. 

        She was surprised. He was never in her class before until now. 

        She decided to look away before he caught her staring, but he was watching her to begin with, ever since she walked into the classroom. 

        “Hey, I’ve seen you around before.” The boy spoke, looking at her. “You’re (Y/N), right?”

        Damn it. She has to talk with a boy? Out of all the other females around? 

        “Um… yeah…” (Y/N) nodded awkwardly. “How do you know my name?”

        “We go to church together.” He smiled. “I’m Ren. Ren Itami.”

        “Japanese?” (Y/N) questioned. 

        “Yeah. My parents moved here from Japan when they had me.” The boy, Ren, nodded.

        “Cool…” (Y/N) muttered, figuring the conversation was done, before Ren spoke again.

        “I just transferred classes today. My other teacher wasn’t good at teaching in a way I could understand, so it was only hindering my education.” Ren explained.

        “I see…” (Y/N) hummed, not too interested in what else he had to say.

        So that’s why he’s in her class now. Still, she doesn’t want to talk with him. Just talking with this guy gives her the chills, but she just can’t understand why. 

        .

        .

        A month or two has passed, (Y/N)’s not too sure how long it’s been actually, days always seem to blend together now. She goes to school, does her chores on the farm, then studies for college. 

        She’s been busting her ass for a nursing school she’s been dreaming to go to; the best news is that in freshmen year, the school reached out to her after she scored top grades in her biology and health classes. They offered her a fully-paid scholarship, including dorm renting and free cafeteria food! 

        With a scholarship like that, you’re damn right she’s studying hard. 

        It was passing period, the hallways bustling with students as people made their way from class to class. Some kids stopped and stared at (Y/N), much to her annoyance.

        Her father had an episode in town again, muttering something about being followed by a man. He filed police reports, but they ignored him per usual as this was a case they’ve reported about before, only to be a waste of time as there’s no evidence to prove it. 

        Frank got angry at his reports being ignored, so he stared yelling inside the police department, which quickly remained in him spending overnight in jail until he’s calmed down and no longer a threat to himself or others. He didn’t get any charges filed against him due to his medical condition, so he got lucky. 

        Of course, if Frank is a nut show, then his daughter must be a nut show too. That’s the logic around this town.

        Well, at least Lola and Annabelle didn’t think like that. They were (Y/N)’s true friends.

        “I swear, nobody can mind their damn business anymore.” Annabelle gruffed, more annoyed about the situation than (Y/N) was.

        “It’s fine, Annabelle. Things just happen.” (Y/N) spoke.

        “Hey, it’s seriously not fine.” Lola scoffed. “You shouldn’t be treated like this. It’s not like you control what your dad does.” 

        “If anyone messes with you, I’ll punch them.” Annabelle smiled.

        “Don’t bother…” (Y/N) hummed. “We have like… one more month until graduation. There’s no point.” 

        But alias, problems always seem to occur for (Y/N). As she walked down the hallway, a shoulder bumped into her roughly, causing her to stagger before turning around.

        “Freak.” Ben sang, smirking as he walked by her. 

        “What’s his problem all the time?” Lola scoffed, glaring at the boy. 

        (Y/N) let out a sigh to calm her nerves, annoyed, before moving past it—but Ben wasn’t just ready to move on.

        “Hey. I’m talking to you, freak.” Ben scoffed, walking back towards her.

        “Leave me alone, asshole.” (Y/N) hissed.

        “Make me.” Ben challenged, pushing her. 

        “Hey, fuck off!” Lola exclaimed, to which Ben ignored her.

        “Stop. It.” (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth, and for once, pushing him back harder.

        “What the—“ Ben huffed, surprised, before he quickly pushed her with more force.

        “Ben, st—“ Annabelle was cut off, shocked as (Y/N) threw a punch to his face. 

        “Fuck you, Ben!” (Y/N) exclaimed, shoving him away from her by using her shoulder. 

        Her legs shook, adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, her fists clenching and unclenching as she realized what she just did. She’s done it now. 

        Ben touched the side of his face, shocked as it swelled, before his fist balled up. A crowd formed around them, watching to see what will go down, holding their flip phones in their hands. 

        Before he could land a punch, some stepped out of the crowd and grabbed Ben’s arm, pinning him up against the wall. 

        “You shouldn’t hit a lady.” The third party spoke.

        “Ren?” (Y/N) questioned, surprised. 

        “Get off me!” Ben barked, squirming under Ren’s hold. 

        Ren had appeared so fast, it was like he was here the whole time. 

        “T-thanks.” (Y/N) spoke, taking a few shaky steps backwards, before forcing her away out of the crowd of students, making her way to the nearest trash can and throwing up. 

        “Ugh… damn it…” she muttered, knowing she was done for, for real this time as people recorded her. 

        Yep. Sounds about right for (Y/N), just her luck. 

        She scanned the crowd, unsure exactly what she was looking for. Her eyes met his bright brown ones, before she closed her own.

        I really hate being alive… she thought.

        .

        .         (Y/N) had got called into the principal’s office later that day along with Ben. Some other students were there to recall the events and explain their side of the story, including Ren. 

        It really didn’t matter who was at fault, both of them got suspended under the excuse: “We don’t condone any sort of violence during school premises.” 

        You can just say that you don’t want the backlash from the bully’s parents and their friends. (Y/N) thought to herself, but she kept that thought in the hatch.

        The walk back home hurt. The whole day she had trembling legs and shaky hands, it seemed every hour she was near a trash can throwing up. She was severely dehydrated, light headed, and really just wanted to go home and cry in the shower.

        It was a hot day, making the walk home worse. Because of how big her family’s farm was, she lived on the outskirts of town, making her walk longer. The town didn’t have any public transportation due to how small the town was, the buses would’ve clogged up all the morning rush hour traffic where adults try to get to work on time, so buses weren’t a thing in their town. 

        There was sweat dripping down her forehead, her back uncomfortably wet as her backpack dragged down her posture, and she wanted nothing more but to just give up. Give up walking, give up life—practically the same thing.

        She made it to her house and unlocked the gate, seeing a figure sitting in her family’s rocking chair on the porch. The figure noticed her, before it stood up, running towards her.

        (Y/N) removed her backpack straps and threw it on the ground, before running and meeting the figure, engulfing them in a hug.

        “Papa.” She whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes, the sun burning the top of her head.

        “Oh, (Y/N). I got a call from the school. What were you thinkin'? Fightin' against a boy? You know boys are stronger than girls!” Frank spoke, quickly letting go of her as he looked at her hands and face for any marks.

        “I’m fine, he didn’t hurt me.” (Y/N) spoke. “But he started it! He pushed me first so I pushed back!”

        “He touched you?” Frank gasped. “What a freak! Boys nowadays need to learn some manners and keep their hands to themselves.” 

        “I was so scared, Papa.” (Y/N) sniffled, wiping the tears and snot off her face.

        “Oh, I bet.” Frank sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go inside. There’s a fresh pitcher of tea waitin’ for you.” 

        (Y/N) nodded, picking her backpack up off the ground and following him back inside the house. 

        Her mother sat in her loveseat, watching the news on the TV. She turned her attention at the door, before motioning for (Y/N) to come over and sit on the couch across from her.

        “Frank, those blueberries should be in season to now. Could you go harvest them?” Rose ordered, finding an excuse for Frank to leave. 

        “Sorry, sport.” Frank sighed, patting (Y/N)’s shoulder, before walking out the door. 

        “I got a call from your principal today…” Rose started, crossing her legs. “Do you wanna explain yourself?”

        “I’m sorry.” (Y/N) started. “I got in a fight with Ben in the hallway. He pushed me, so I pushed him back, so he pushed me harder and I just got upset and punched him…” 

        “Jeez, (Y/N)… What are you? A animal?” Rose scoffed. “You’re a lady. You don’t hit people. And you especially don’t under the eyes of the Lord. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

        “I was just defending myself! He’s picked on me before!” (Y/N) defended.

        “So? You go to the principal’s office and report it.” Rose retorted.

        “But Ma, they don’t listen to me. They don’t like our family.” (Y/N) spoke. “They think we’re cursed. Or were sinners in another life!”

        “That’s nonsense. Everyone loves us. Everyone loves our products. We’re devoted followers of our Lord. How could they not love us?” Rose snapped, not seeming to believe it.

        “It’s because we’re freaks, Ma!” (Y/N) exclaimed, hitting her hands on her lap. “We’re major freaks! They constantly talk bad about us! We’re always invited last for our community gatherings! Papa is always getting mandatory overtime but no payment, yet everyone else doesn’t have that overtime! We’re constantly being sneered at in public! The kids at my school harass me, but you don’t care because it doesn’t affect you!” 

        “(Y/N), you can go to your—“ 

        “Do you know what they say about you, Mama?” (Y/N) questioned, her fists shaking as she spoke. “They think you’re a selfish, narcissistic, and hypocritical woman. They think you sold your soul to the devil to inherit your parents’ wealth.”

        “Who?” Rose gasped, her jaw dropped.

        “Everyone.” (Y/N) hissed. “They think Papa’s a freak because they don’t understand him. They don’t know what he’s going through. They think I’m a freak because I’m your daughter!”

        “Well, you know what? I’ve had enough of you. You’ve been acting like a freak lately!” Rose spoke, standing up from her seat. “What’s with you? Is it that college? Is that college stressin’ you out with your studies? I told you that the city isn’t for you but you never listen to me! Is it your father’s stupid paranoid delusions? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t listen to him!”

        “He knows more than you do!” (Y/N) shouted. “And that college is the only thing in my life that will keep me away from you!” 

        “Go to your room, now! Go straight to bed! Don’t even expect supper tonight!” Rose shouted back, her voice louder—it was always louder compared to hers.

        (Y/N) had no problem with that, it’s not like that wasn’t her first time being forced to skip a meal. Besides, there's nothing too great about pre-packaged meals. Rose rarely cooks, and Frank is either always working in the auto shop or on the farm. It's been that way since she was a kid, so school lunches were basically a miracle for her when she entered school. Breakfast and lunch five days a week? That's better than no meals every day of the week! Or at least one every other day.

        She quickly took her backpack with her and walked to her room, resisting the urge to slam the door shut. She shut her door (gently) and walked to the bathroom, turning on the shower faucet and stripping off her school uniform. She sat down on the shower floor, feeling more tears well up in her eyes.

        “This fucking sucks…” she gritted through her teeth.

        She sat there for some time, before finally getting up and washing up. She dried herself off, before picking out some pajamas and changing into them. 

        She walked back to her room and sat down on her bed for a while. She was tired after today’s events, all that crying and puking and yelling really got to her. She should at least drink some water, but right now she really couldn’t be bothered. 

        There was a knock on her door, before the door opened.

        “Hey, kid. You doin’ okay?” Frank questioned, popping his head into the room.

        “No… not really…” (Y/N) sighed. 

        “Do you wanna talk about it?” he questioned.

        (Y/N) took a moment to think, before nodding. “Yeah. I think so.” 

        Frank walked into the room, sitting down on the bed. He sat down on the edge, waiting patiently for (Y/N) to talk.

        “I-I just feel so out of place…” (Y/N) sighed. “I mean, I don’t even know what I do but they hate me, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know I’m not the most prettiest or—“ 

       ��“Hey, stop that.” Frank spoke up. “Don’t beat yourself up like that. You’re one of the prettiest girls out there, and that’s not just cause you’re my daughter.” Frank explained. “You’re a (L/N). We (L/N)’s may have shit luck, but you know what? We always get back up. And we know what’s true and what’s not.”

        “You don’t have to be pretty to be liked. You don’t have to be anything for people to like you. It’ll come naturally over time as you meet some great people.” Frank explained. “Problem isn’t you, it’s society. You shouldn’t have to change yourself to fit societal norms, and you shouldn’t have to beat yourself up over it either. We just live in a shitty town with shitty people; but that doesn’t define society as a whole. There’s still good out there.”

        “You know what they say: everythin' happens for a reason. Right now, you’re just waitin' for your moment to shine, and when you shine; you’ll be a damn star.” Frank smiled, patting her back.

        “Thank you, Papa.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        “Now, is there anything else making you upset?” Frank questioned.

        (Y/N) took a second to think about it. Everything he’s been saying was right; it’s not that she’s bad, it’s that the people in her town are so close-minded, judging people because they don’t match their beliefs or act a little different from others. 

        “Would you be upset if I left the farm?” (Y/N) questioned. “I’ve talked about it before, about getting a scholarship to this really good med school, but would it make you mad that I’d be leaving the farm behind? Leaving you and mama behind?” 

        “(Y/N), there should never be a time in your life where you have to choose between your happiness and someone else’s.” Frank spoke. “You should always choose yourself first.”

        “But wouldn’t that just be that selfish?” (Y/N) questioned.

        “Are you kiddin'? You’re leavin' behind thousands, maybe even millions, of dollars this farm gained over the generations!” Frank laughed. “That’s pretty selfless if you ask me.”

        “Ah, you know what I mean, Papa.” (Y/N) chuckled, rolling her eyes playfully. 

        “Think of it this way. You’re goin' to wake up to yourself, you’re goin' to shower with yourself, you’re goin' to eat meals with yourself, you’re goin' to go to work with yourself, take spa days, go shoppin', run errands, and go back to sleep in the same bed—all with yourself. Everyone else in life comes and goes; coworkers, friends, lovers, even me.” Frank explained. “Put yourself first because it’s your life. There should never be a period in your time where you feel the need to sacrifice your happiness. If you’re not happy, you’re not livin'; you’re existin'. It’s plain and simple. It's only selfish if you're in a position to help someone in need, but you don't help them despite bein' stable to."

        “I… guess you’re right, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded, smiling.

        “But if you plan to have kids, then you’re gonna have to make sacrifices. You can’t just make some kids and expect that to be over, there’s a lot more than just that.” Frank chuckled. “But hey, that’s a whole other story for when you’re older. Don’t you dare be tryin' to get pregnant at your age.” 

        “I won’t, Papa. I promise.” (Y/N) giggled, shaking her head at her father’s antics.

        She surprisingly felt a lot better now. Life didn’t feel so bad anymore, who knew a little speech was all she needed to feel better. 

        But in realty, it was really just her father sacrificing his positive energy to give to her. He may not be the ideal father, and he may not remember everything he does or remain in control of himself sometimes, but she knew this was her father Frank—not the monster or the sinner her town thought he was. 

        “I heard your mom isn’t letting you eat dinner, I can sneak some in here?” Frank suggested.

        “Nah, I’m really not that hungry.” (Y/N) shook her head.

        I might just throw it up anyways… she thought.

        “Just making sure.” Frank chuckled. “Oh, hey. You wouldn’t happen to know where that hole in the face came from, would you?”

        “What hole?” (Y/N) inquired.

        “While I was harvestin' those blueberries your mom told me to fetch, I noticed a square hole in the fence, at the bottom of the fencin'. It looks like some wire pliers or somethin'.” Frank spoke. “I told your damn mom we should invest in some sturdier fencin', but she’s so persistent in wantin' that cheap fencin' that we can easily move out of the way in case we expand the farm more.” He sighed.

        “No, I wasn’t aware there was a hole in the fence.” (Y/N) spoke honestly, surprised.

        “Ah, must be someone tryna deal my damn chickens. Nobody is takin' Charlotte from me.” Frank huffed, crossing his arms.

        Charlotte was practically Frank’s pet hen. Charlotte was born in domestically at her farm, she was smaller than the other chicks and had a white fluffy spot on her back. Charlotte has some serious attitude for something that’s easy to fry up. 

        “I’ll just go to town and replace the fencin' tomorrow. I don’t want any damn coyotes or foxes trying to get ‘em.” Frank sighed, before standing up from the edge of the bed.

        “Thank you for talking with me, Papa. I needed it.” (Y/N) smiled. 

        “Hey, it’s the least I can do.” Frank smiled, before ruffling her hair, causing her to giggle. 

        “Night, sport. Just remember, I’m proud of you no matter what you do in life.” Frank smiled, opening her bedroom door.

        (Y/N) smiled at the reassurance. “I love you, Papa.” 

        “I love ya too, (Y/N).” He smiled. “Get some rest now.” He spoke, before closing the door behind him.

        (Y/N) crawled under her covers and smiled, glad to have talked about her feelings. She didn’t feel as alone as she did earlier.

        She closed her eyes, listening to the sounds of the cicadas outside, and the snapping twigs of a bunny or raccoon nearby her window. 

        .

        .

        (Y/N) woke up feeling a bit more happier and relaxed than usual. She at least woke up in a good mood, the effects of last night's talk still lingering with her as she stood up. She did a small stretch to get her blood pumping, before walking over to her drawers to find clothes for herself. She opened up her drawers to grab a pair of socks for today, before feeling something weird.

        What is that?

         She pulled out a paper folded in fours, but her heart dropped when she saw red splotches on the piece. She quickly folded open the paper, reading the contents. 

        "My love, how utterly divine you are. I've taken care of that nuisance for you, are you proud of me? I couldn't stand how he touches you, how he wishes to harm you, when a beauty like you should be absolutely adored. He won't be a problem for you anymore, nobody will ever be a problem to you. You're like an angel, and all I wish to do is protect you from the evil in this world. I want to serve you and be your faithful prophet, your only follower.          You saved me, let me save you now. See you soon, my love." 

        It was printed sugar paper with typed letters printed on it, and dried blood spots on the paper. That wasn't in her drawer last night, someone broke into her house.

        It felt like she stopped breathing, a ringing inside her ears as her head felt fuzzy. She dropped the bloodied paper, taking a few shaky steps, before running to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. 

        You would think she'd have nothing in her stomach to throw up, but you'd be wrong. Whenever she gets scared, a nauseating feeling takes over and she can't help but empty her stomach. 

        She coughed and wiped her mouth with toilet paper, taking another piece of toilet paper and wiping the snot and tears off her face. 

        Who the hell could've sent her that note? Who the hell broke into her house and planted that? 

        Another thought stuck her. Just how long have they been watching her? What else is planted in her house?

        That thought pushed her up off the ground, scurrying back to her bedroom. She tore her bedroom apart, searching every nook and cranny. She even went as far as to check every single clothing item she owned. She found a small microphone inside one of her ceiling light bulbs; no wonder the room looked brighter, her soft yellow lights were replaced with white LED's and she didn't even realize it! She even dismantled a part of her alarm clock, finding a small camera there. And she found another small camera in the eye of one of her old collector dolls that sat perched on her shelf. 

        After another trip to the bathroom to puke, she did a quick sweep around her bathroom, finding another microphone in her bathroom lightbulb and a camera inside the shower head; hence resulting in her throwing up again. She grabbed all the cameras and lightbulbs, placing them in a large ziplock bag for evidence, before placing the note in a separate ziplock bag.

        (Y/N) sat on her bed for a moment, trying to wrack her brain on why this was happening. Why her? What this a nightmare? Who the hell would choose (Y/N) to stalk? It must be a sick joke, right? Nobody would write her a love confession, that's never happened in her life! She's close to nobody except Annabelle and Lola, and they would never do this! Kate hates her, and Ben's most likely still pissed off at her for punching him. There's nobody else in her life who's been around her recently except...

        She grabbed her hair, tugging the ends to cope with the sick realization. It was Ren. That stupid, creepy brat with the stupid, creepy brown eyes that just bore right into her all the time. He's in her church, watching her every move like a hawk. He coincidentally transfers into her class a few months ago. He coincidentally steps in and saves her from Ben yesterday. It has to be him, there's nobody else!

        Her throat was sore and burning, her eyes were exhausted and tired from crying, and she felt like she was about to tip over and faint. She opened her bedroom door, stumbling out into the hallway. Her father sat on the couch watching a baking show, while her mother sat reading a book on her loveseat. (Y/N) dragged herself into the living room, placing the ziplock bags onto the center table for them to speak.

        "Papa. Mama. We need to call the police. Someone's watching me..."

        .

        .

        The police were called down to the farm, talking to a clueless mother and father as they tried to gather evidence. The only evidence that could be found was the ziplock bags (Y/N) provided them. There were no signs of breaking in, but (Y/N) knew that was because of their own faults. They lived in a small, religious town, so everyone knew each other. They would've never expected anyone to break into their house, so it was common for people to leave their doors unlocked in their town. During the police investigation, they found a body inside the pig enclosure, the pigs feasting on the body of Ben Rivers. (Y/N) was immediately placed in custody and taken down to the police station to be questioned.

        She refused to talk without a lawyer, but there weren't many lawyers inside of her small town, and her trial date was approaching rapidly. (Y/N) was being trialed for the possibility of first degree murder alongside tampering evidence, and (Y/N) was trying to file charges against Ren for stalking, trespassing, first degree murder, and frame up. 

        It took weeks for their small town court to final accept their case and get court hearings done. The word got around quick around town. If she felt isolated beforehand, well she certainly felt so now. As luck would have her, Ren was popular in school and in town. He actively attended and volunteered in church, he had stellar grades, and a perfect social image.

        That's the only damn thing he has against her, a good social image. It's so unfair. Why is she punished for what others do? She didn't choose to be Frank's daughter, she didn't choose to be next inheritor of Rose's family farm. 

        Please, as if that was a good excuse, a part of it is her fault too. She was the one that tried killing herself. She was the one that sang the quietest during the church's hymens. She was the one that never bothered to stand out and do extracurricular activities like Annabelle and Lola do. By isolating herself, she's practically doomed herself in this case. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to play with her thumbs as she sat in front of the judge. She wore a white blouse with a black blazer, wearing a pencil skirt and black tights with black flats. Rose said that it would show she's sophisticated and respected, but (Y/N) felt like she was wearing the outfit to her own funeral. 

        She practically avoided Ren's eyes the whole session, not wanting to see what stupid "innocent" face he'll have on that damn face of his to sway the whole court. He sat in one of the seats behind her, just feeling everyone's eyes (including his) on her sent shivers down her spine. She was currently being tried for first degree murder and tampering with the evidence, but (Y/N) knows that's not true. 

        Surely they'll believe her, there were literally cameras and microphones in her room! There's practically nobody else that'll do this to her!

        "With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of first-degree murder." 

        Her heart practically dropped at that. How could this happen?

        "With all the evidence and statements taken into consideration, we the court, find (Y/N) (L/N) guilty of tampering and trying to rid the body of Ben Rivers." 

        She tried to open her mouth to speak, but it felt like no words were going to come out. If she kept her mouth open any longer, she might just cry instead.

        "(Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years, with no chance of parole." The judge decided. "Is there anything you wish to say, Ms. (L/N)?"

        "How could you turn your back against justice?" she questioned, her bottom lip trembling. "I'm innocent. He framedme! Tell me how those cameras got into my house! How those microphones appeared!"

        "According to receipts on a shopping site, you spent nearly $300 dollars purchasing two cameras and two lightbulb microphones, and had them shipped to a public park. It was purchased under your name and debit card."

        (Y/N)'s face paled, her hands shaking. No, she didn't do that. Ren must've stolen it. He must've framed her!

        "Around that same time, Ben Rivers, the man you killed, also happened to lose his wallet that was reported to have at least $300 in his words." The judge explained, reading a paper in their hands. "It was also during that time that you fought Mr. Rivers at your public high school, which provoked the murder. With this evidence, you not only premeditated the murder by buying the technology and trying to get rid of the body, but also tried framing the murder itself." 

        "B-but the note? Where did that come from?" (Y/N) questioned.

        "There was no forensic evidence on the letter except for your finger oils, and the dried blood of Ben Rivers. The note was typed so you could hide your handwriting." The judge explained.

        "No, no! It was typed! Anyone could've typed that! Ren could've typed that!" (Y/N) tried to fight. "Please, this was a targeted attack! Ben was murdered! Mine and my family's lives are in danger! This didn't just happen out of the blue, it was planned by someone that wasn't me! It was Ren, it has to be!" 

        "With the evidence of online receipts found under your name and debit card, the forensic evidence of your finger oils after you supposedly found the note in your clothing drawer, the finding of Ben Rivers body in your family farm, the previously shown hostility you've shown against Ben Rivers in the past; it is with undeniable evidence that you are guilty of murdering and hiding the body of Ben Rivers." The judge spoke. "With all this said, (Y/N) (L/N) will serve 20 years in prison, no parole. Along with this sentencing, I hereby give the verdict that Ren Itami is not guilty of first-degree murder, of trespassing, of stalking, and of tampering with evidence."

        "What?! No! That needs another trial! You can't do that!" (Y/N) exclaimed. 

        "Court dismissed!" the judge shouted, their voice echoing throughout the courtroom.

        (Y/N) sat limp, staring at the table she was seated at.

        It's all over. She thought, her vision blurring with tears as her ears rang.

        She could make out her father yelling in the background of the ringing, but she didn't have the energy to look. 

        My life is over. She thought as the judicial security forced her up out of her seat, taking her away from her family.

        She stood up, tripping over her feet as security forced her away. She was able to tilt her head to look at her parents, watching as Rose covered her face with her hands; either she was crying, or she was embarrassed. Frank was standing and animated, his hands moving all around as his mouth ran, but (Y/N) couldn't hear what he was saying.

        (Y/N) forced her eyes to look around the courtroom. Most people didn't even seem shocked or surprised that it was "supposedly" her who killed Ben Rivers. A few emotional people cried, others filing out of the courtroom. She saw Annabelle and Lola here with their families, the girls' expressions looking betrayed and in disbelief.

        She saw the family of Ben Rivers there. His little siblings sobbed, and his mother covered her mouth as she cried. The father was trying to comfort Ben's mother, but his eyes stared at her with nothing but hatred. 

        No, don't look at me that way. She thought. I didn't do it. I didn't!

        He just needs some guidance. They all just need some guidance to know it wasn't her. It wasn't her!

        She finally saw the man that put her in this position, her eyes meeting his bright brown ones. His black hair covered his eyes, but she knew damn well he was looking at her. His disgusting, blood-soaked hands were patting the shoulder of one of Ben's siblings.

        No! Don't let him touch them, Ms. Rivers. She thought. Don't let him kill your other children too, Mr. Rivers!

        She was led through door, before the security slammed the court door shut, leading her down a hallway where a police car awaited to take her to prison. 

        .

        .

        One week here, and she could barely get out of bed. She was taken to the town's small prison. There weren't toomany people here, so she was able to get her own cell. At least she wouldn't be sharing a cell with a freak. 

        Oh, who is she kidding? She'd be the freak they'd be cellmates with. 

        She stared at the food on the ground, not wanting anything to do with it. It's not even that it looked unappetizing, it's that she had absolutely no strength to eat. 

        Her life was over, everything she looked forward to in her future no longer existed. She was going to get out of this town, run away from the farm's responsibilities and inheritance, find a place that could accept her no matter who her family was, go to college, become a pediatric nurse and help other kids like her and more. Somewhere in that future, she could even get a chance at a happy relationship. 

        But that's over now. Nobody is going to love her now. Nobody is going to accept her now. When she gets out of jail, she'll be at least almost 40. How is somebody going to accept a convicted murderer, whether they did it or not? Who is really going to believe her? Jobs will turn her down, she'll be lucky to even score a job at a fast food joint.

        It's all over now, so she might as well just die. Starve herself away. Or, at the very least, she'll try to the best of her abilities. Sooner or later, the guards will take her to the medical-treatment room, and they'll force a tube down her nose or mouth and feed her some crappy nutritional supplement whether she wants it or not. After that, she'll go to her cell, and she'll stick her finger down her throat and force all of that disgusting crap out of her body, speeding up her dehydrating process and just finally die. The only reason she's been drinking water is because it hurts to breathe without a moist throat. At least after a while, the starvation slowly stops to hurt, but dehydration just feels worse in her opinion. 

        There was a bang on her cell's bars but (Y/N) couldn't bother to look over, staring at the ceiling as she rested on her bed. 

        "Hey, (L/N). You got a visitor!" the guard spoke, though she really couldn't care.

        She didn't bother responding to them, staying in the same spot as she refused to talk. 

        "If you don't get up, we'll just bring them here." The guard persisted, though (Y/N) remained uncaring.

        She heard the guard's footsteps fade away, at least ten minutes going by as she listened to other inmates talking and screaming, some banging on their cells angrily. 

        Can't you fools tell it's pointless? (Y/N) thought.

        She wondered how many others were here innocently. This whole damn situation, being in jail, nobody believing her; she was almost convinced that she was a sleeper agent. Or at least, she was guilty but couldn't remember. Why else would people not listen to her?

        Footsteps echoed down the hallways, before they stopped in front of her cell. She mentally rolled her eyes, not having the energy to do so in person. 

        "Hello, (Y/N)." A voice spoke, almost smugly as they stood at her cell. "Did you miss me?"

        (Y/N) immediately scrambled up from her spot, getting dizzy and falling on the ground for a few seconds, but she forced her way up off the ground and ran to the prison bars. 

        "Y-" she tried to speak, but her voice was hoarse.

        She quickly ran to her table and grabbed a water bottle, practically chugging the whole thing before wiping her mouth. She ran back to the cell's bars, staring at them.

        "Y-you son of a bitch!" she shouted, her voice raspy as she forced her hands through the bars and grabbed the collar of their shirt, slamming them up against the bars. "How dare you show your face to me? I'll kill you! I'll kill you!" 

        "My, how hostile. I'm just doing you a favor too!" he laughed.

        "What the fuck are you doing here, Ren? What are you doing here?!" she shouted. "Was it not enough? Was ruining my life not enough for you?!" 

        "Calm down, my love. I'm not looking to harm you, honestly this all was my mistake." Ren laughed. 

        My love? My love? As in, the nickname that bloodied confession letter said? 

        So it was Ren. (Y/N) thought, almost sickeningly gleeful despite all the damage he's caused to her.

        At least she knows she's not completely crazy. 

        "Fuck you and your mistakes." She hissed, her grip tightening on his collar. "I'll never forgive you for this."

        "So feisty." Ren smiled. "I'm actually bailing you out. Shouldn't you be glad?"

        "Bailing... me out?" she questioned, confused. "Why did you even get me in here in the first place?! Do you understand how damaged my reputation is now?!"

        "Oh, please. It's not like it was good to begin with." He chuckled, causing her to glare at him. "I didn't mean for you to be held accountable for murder. Really, it was an honest mistake. I was just trying to cover my tracks, I didn't mean for that pesky body to have you end up in jail. It's a shame a pest like him is still causing you problems even after he's dead."        

        "Why didn't you just admit to the murder? Why did you have to involve me into it?" she questioned. 

        "Well, if I was in jail, I wouldn't be able to see you anymore, silly!" he laughed, his hands reaching out and holding her wrists as she held his collar. "You have such soft, delicate hands. An angel like you shouldn't be trapped in a nasty cage such as this." 

        "It wouldn't be so soft and delicate when I bash your head into the wall!" she hissed, ignoring his angel comment as she ripped her hands away from him, a new wave of anger hitting her as he had the audacity to touch her after everything he's done. 

        "Well now, I had to make sure you learned your lesson. I was originally going to let you have a month here in prison—but ah, but I couldn't stay separated from you for that long." He sighed longingly. "I figured a week must be enough for you to learn your lesson! I'm glad I came sooner though, it looks like you've been starving yourself!"

        I would rather stay a month here and starve than after to see you. She thought, annoyed. 

        "You've learned your lesson, right?" he questioned.

        "Die sooner?" she spoke sarcastically. 

        "I do love your humor dear, but now is not the time." He smiled.

        "What? Not to cross you or some crap?" she scoffed, crossing her arms. 

        "Bingo! Aren't you so smart?" he cooed, his hands holding the cell bars as she backed up from him. 

        "Fuck off. I might as well just rot away here. My life is over now." She hissed, turning her head away from him. 

        "Oh, no. See, it doesn't work like that!" he smiled. "Whether you like it or not love, you're still being bailed out! So, you can either come with me, or live in the streets! Aren't I a better option?"

        I'd rather be the next Oscar the Grouch than go anywhere he's going. (Y/N) thought to herself. 

        "So? What will it be?" Ren questioned. 

        "I want to be bailed out." (Y/N) responded. "And I want food." 

        "Sure, that can be done." Ren smiled. "Just as long as you promise one thing?"

        "What is it?" she questioned, glaring at him suspiciously. 

        "Graduation is near. As soon as we graduate, I want you to come live with me and become my wife. We'll move out of state and have our own family! Unless you want to wait for kids, we can do that too." Ren smiled, as if the idea wasn't crazy.

        "Excuse me?" she questioned.

        "Yeah, kids are a bit too soon, huh?" Ren nodded, as if agreeing with an idea she didn't even say.

        "I said excuse me! Not even a first date or something?" she spoke, shocked. 

        Well, she shouldn't expect much class from the guy that put cameras and microphones inside her bathroom and bedroom. 

        "On the way home we'll grab that lunch I promised you. Consider it a lunch date." He smiled. 

        (Y/N) resisted the urge to roll her eyes, before eventually agreeing. "Okay..." she nodded. "If you bail me out and get me lunch, I'll be your wife..." she spoke, her legs shaky at just the thought of actually agreeing to this ridiculous request.

        It can't be that bad, right? It's better than 20 years in prison, right? 

        "Oh, good! I was worried I'd have to bail you out and kidnap you on the streets! That would be quite the hassle to try and hide you!" Ren laughed giddily. "I'll be right back! I'll go pay and have the guards unlock the cell for you! I even brought you an outfit!"

        "Great..." (Y/N) muttered, not even bothering to force a smile. 

        (Y/N) looked around her cell for anything she wanted to take, but there was nothing that wasn't hers. She watched as the prison guard opened the door for her, a hateful glare on his face. 

        Understandably so, he's under the impression that she's a murderer of a teenage boy, and now she's being paid out of jail. No wonder he would stare at her in disgust, even if the true killer was the one standing right next to him. 

        (Y/N) stepped out of the cell, being handed a bag from Ren. 

        "There's some private bathrooms here, we can find one for you to change in." Ren explained. 

        (Y/N) nodded, silent as she followed Ren. They found a bathroom for her to change into, much to (Y/N)'s relief as she doesn't want to change inside of a cramped car with her stalker. Ren opened the door for her, about to walk in with her before she stopped him.

        "Excuse me? No. I can change by myself." (Y/N) scoffed, stopping him with her arm. 

        "Hm? Why?" he questioned. "It's not like I haven't not seen any part of your body."

        "Don't remind me, creep." (Y/N) hissed, a shiver running up her spine as he reminded her of the cameras. "You stay out! I'll just change really quick!" 

        "Fine, whatever you want." Ren sighed, disheartened. 

        (Y/N) closed the door behind her, triple-checking to make sure it was locked. She opened the bag that Ren gave her, mentally groaning at the outfit he chose. 

        She put on the outfit reluctantly, before grabbing the brush he left in the bag for her. She brushed out her hair, looking at herself in the mirror. She wore a white mid-thigh length sundress that Ren gave her, with strawberry patterns printed on the cloth, and frilly off-shoulder sleeves. She put on white flats that he left in the bag for her, and she refused to wear the questionable lace panties and matching bra. The outfit was cute, but she didn't like knowing it was something her stalker got for her. She'll probably throw the dress away in the trash later. 

        She walked out of the bathroom, looking at Ren. 

        "Ah, look at you! You look adorable!" Ren cooed. "Spin for me."

        "No." (Y/N) stated firmly, a flash of annoyance crossing her face at his audacity. 

        "Maybe next time." He laughed, before leading her to an office area.

        He signed her out, and (Y/N) shortly received her personal items they held onto. She had the outfit she came to the prison with, along with her phone. She checked her phone's battery, seeing it was at 0%. The battery must've slowly been draining while she was held here. 

        "Ready to go, my love?" he questioned, holding his hand out for her.

        "Die." She snapped, walking past him. 

        How could he act like this? How could he act like he did nothing wrong after he broke into her house and placed cameras and microphones into her private living space? How could he have the audacity to make her take his fall, then bail her out and tell she must've learned her lesson.

        Of course she's learned. She's learned that she's going to get as far away from him as possible, no matter what. It doesn't matter when, one day, she'll escape him. Like hell she'll be his wife. 

        Ren laughed at her hostility, making a comment about "how cute she is when she's upset." He was acting as if he was dealing with a fussy toddler. 

        Ren guided her to his car, causing her to halt and rethink her decisions. She was going to be alone in an enclosed space with a man, a man who has done nothing but destroy her life. Ren looked at her expectantly, refusing to get in the car until she does first. 

        He's making sure he can quickly catch her if she tries to run from him.

        (Y/N) sighed, before hesitantly opening the car door and getting in, closing the door. She tested the door handle to see if it'd open, but it was child-locked, she realized. If she wanted out of the car, Ren would have to unlock the doors and walk around to open the door for her. 

        Damn it, he's smart. 

        (Y/N) frowned, watching as Ren hopped inside of the driver seat. He turned the car on and smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak, before she interrupted him.

        "Food." She spoke, buckling her seatbelt for safety (even if she would rather be in a car accident instead of hanging out with her stalker). 

        Before he could question where or what, she added on. 

        "Steak. Go to a steakhouse." She ordered, crossing her arms. 

        "You seem to know what you want." He chuckled, smiling.

        "I haven't eaten in a week. Now drive." She snapped. 

        "Whatever you want." Ren hummed, pulling out of the parking lot and driving. 

        She looked around Ren's car, not noticing anything out of the ordinary except for the man himself.

        "So, what do you see in me?" she questioned.

        "Excuse me?" he questioned.

        "ExCuSe Me." She mocked, let out a scoff of disbelief. "You heard me, jackass. You stalked me. You killed Ben. Why?" 

        "Let's save that for our wedding vows, yeah?" Ren smiled. "Don't worry. You won't have to wait long."

        (Y/N) looked over at him nervously, before letting out a defeated sigh, instead focusing her attention outside of the window to avoid his predatory gaze.

        .

        .

        Just like he promised, he returned her back home after paying for lunch. He requested for her to keep him bailing her out as a secret, to which she hesitantly agreed.

        (Y/N) returned to her family's farm, rushing inside and hugging her father and mother. She made up a stupid lie saying that her good behavior let her get released, though they probably knew that wasn't the truth; however, they certainly didn't care if it was the truth or not.

        Everything might've seemed resolved now, but that was far from the case. The news of (Y/N) being convicted and released made the news and headlines. It was (Y/N)'s first day of school and she sat in the bathrooms during lunch, hiding away from the rest of the world in the stall. 

        Annabelle and Lola are no longer her friends. "We can't be friends with a murderer, whether you say you did it or not, the evidence leads to you." they told her. There wasn't a Ben to try and push her in the hallways, or to try and trip her in biology class. Mr. Jones couldn't even come up with a dry comment to say to her.

        It seemed like everyone was busy taking pictures or recording her. There were pictures of her mugshot taped onto her locker, and newspapers with the highlighted words "murderer" taped on it too. There were posts on social media questioning why she was back and how they could let a murderer escape.

        She would rather be known as a freak than a murderer any day.

        And the worst part? People sympathized with Ren. They were whispering about how sorry they were that he had to see the girl who "tried" to accuse him of killing Ben and stalking (Y/N). 

        It hurt losing her best friends from middle school. It hurt losing her social image, even if it wasn't much. It hurt being an accused murderer.  It hurt hearing the rumors that her family's wealth and connections to the Devil is how she got out of prison. 

        It hurt being known, but not known at the same time. 

        She constantly looked at the posts the media had of her. She didn't know how to feel; angry, sad, disappointed, afraid? People are just making assumptions of what they heard and know, they don't know that Ren is the real murderer tormenting her. They don't know anything.

        People whispered in the hallways and classes about her. 

        "I heard that she tried framing Ren because he rejected her confession."

        "I heard she was the killer all along. I mean, who gets a love letter placed in their drawers and doesn't know about it? Sounds pretty suspicious."

        "She got bailed out because of her mommy's money. She can't even accept responsibility for her own crimes."

        "She sure looks like a killer, all quiet and creepy. I didn't even know who she was until now."

        Even if Ben's bullying stopped, Kate's didn't. She only got more physical. What used to be verbally assaults was replaced with milk spilt on her head and cigarette burns on her scarred arms. 

        When will it be enough? She questioned the universe. 

        Never. 

        But the worst part? God, the worst part must be that bastard's face. (Y/N) constantly checked her room everyday to make sure there were no cameras or light bulbs, so Ren gave up trying to install more. Even though he stopped his 24/7 supervision of her, he constantly visited her at night, keeping her up by knocking at her window until she opened it so that he could talk her ear off about how pretty she was, and how excited he was to be her husband, and how close graduation was coming until he'd take her away from here. 

        He kept writing his stupid confession letters to her, about how much of an "angel" she was, and how utterly divine her beauty was. He used sugar paper to write on, and he used a dark red ink pen to write with. It was like he was taunting her by choosing red, reminding her of the spilt blood that stained the first confession he gave her. It was like he was reminding her that nobody believes her, that in everyone else's eyes she killed Ben.

        She would grab the letters and burn them on her father's grill outside. It didn't matter trying to prove herself with the letters, nobody would believe her anyways. All she cared about was tearing the papers, stomping them on the ground and burning them into embers that flew in the air. Even burnt paper was more free than her. She wanted to destroy the evidence of Ren in her life. She wanted to destroy his love for her, but he just wouldn't give up. 

        Even her own mother believed she was a murderer. Rose told her one day while doing the dishes that she should be ashamed of herself, and that she should've at least tried blaming the murder on someone who was more less known and a weirdo. Rose couldn't dare think that Ren did such a thing, not when Ren was such a respectful boy who attended church and participated in volunteer work. At least her father believed her, but it felt like he always had to remind her what happened, to never go outside alone, to never leave the farm. She wasn't even sure if her father actually believed her, or if he was mixing his persecutory delusions when he experienced episodes into (Y/N)'s life. It drove her mad, she felt her already poor mental health deteriorating into something worse.  

        The church kicked out her entire family from ever stepping foot on the premises. Not only was she isolated from her hometown, friends, and society; but not even church would wash away the "sins" she committed. 

        Her grades were slipping. Her studies were failing. Her sanity was dropping. 

        Everything just looked like a weapon for her to use against herself or another. 

        Why should she eat food? Why should she drink water? Why should she take a shower? Why should she live? 

        One week before graduation. One week before Ren would whisk her away from this hell of a town, and give her a new hell as his wife. 

        She was admitted into the hospital for a stomach pump and to sew up her wrists after having another failed suicide attempt. It's been a couple years since she last tried to kill herself, but after all the events that happened, it only seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. She had tried overdosing on pills and cutting deep into her wrists so she could bleed out, but her father came home from work early. He made it a habit to always checked up on her after work, so when he saw her unconscious on the ground with blood on her arms and empty pill bottles around her body, he grabbed Rose and made her apply a towel and pressure to (Y/N)'s wrists while he sped through town to get her to the ER. She made it out alive, much to her dismay. 

        She sucked at living. She sucked at trying to find happiness. She sucked at trying to die. Wasn't there anything she was good at except being a punching bag? 

        The hospital made her take multiple tests during her time there. She had to answer a lot of paper tests asking about her health, and she had to take tests involving her nervous system. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, exactly what her father has and is why he's shunned from society. She was also diagnosed with manic depression as a follow-up for her bipolar disorder. 

        It clicked in her head then and there. She'll never be fine. She'll never escape these emotions. She'll always be a freak, and the daughter of a freak. She'll always be the daughter codependent on mommy's money. The realization made her sob, try to suffocate herself with her pillow. She was placed under suicide watch inside the hospital, and she was kept for three days, when the doctors finally decided to let her go. 

        As always, word got around in school, and more rumors spread. The constant whispers, the constant feeling of eyes watching her, they were all looking at her, they were all watching her just like Ren. It was too much. 

        Why was she being punished for simply just existing? Even when she tries to take her life, they still look down on her. 

        She had her scholarship to her dream med school denied after the newspaper headlines made way to them. They sent an email about how they couldn't accept a mentally ill scholar to care for others in need. All the other colleges she applied for wouldn't accept her either.

        Everything was taken from her now. She had absolutely nothing to look forward to now. How can you possibly live if you have nothing to live for? 

        Ren was knocking at her window again tonight. Tomorrow was graduation, tomorrow was going to be her final day free from him. 

        Go away. She pleaded. Please, just leave me alone.

        After one too many knocks on her window, she finally walked over to the window, ripping it open and jumping out the window, tackling him and pulling down to the ground. She got up on top of him and started punching his face.

        "Fuck you, Ren! Fuck you! You ruined my future! You ruined my life!" she cried, her fists hitting anything on his face, before it hurt too much to punch him anymore. 

        When her fists stop hitting him, he looked up at her with a sickeningly sweet smile.

        "My love, I'm so proud of you for communicating your feelings with me." He cooed, his hands moving up and holding her shaking hands. 

        "I want to die. I want to die." She cried, her figure shaking as tears dropped on his bloodied face. 

        "So that's where these scars came from..." Ren muttered, running his fingers along her stitches. "My love, why must you cut your wings? If you cut too deep, you'll lose your ability to fly!"

        "I don't wanna fly. I just want to die." She spoke through tears. 

        "I never wanted you to waste a drop of your blood. I only want mine to spill..." he spoke, his fingers going from her arms to her thighs, trying to soothe her, but the feeling only made her feel worse. 

        "Don't touch me! I'll kill you!" she shouted. 

        It’d be such an honor dying by your hands. To feel your skin on mine. Please, tell me how you’ll kill me? Will it be slow or long? Use me as you wish and dispose of me!” he laughed, taunting her as he fed into her fantasies, as if the idea was actually entertaining to him. 

        No. She doesn't want to kill him. She doesn't want to touch him if he'll just enjoy it and act like a masochistic freak. She just wants him to disappear from her life. 

        "Please, please just let me go. Please just let me die. I can't. I can't do this." (Y/N) begged. "Just let me go. Please."

        "I'm sorry, but you're mine, angel. I can't live without you." He frowned. "Finders keepers."

        (Y/N) cried, slapping his hands off her thighs. She stood up off his bleeding figure, climbing back into her bedroom window.

        "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, my love!" he smiled, blood leaking out of his mouth. 

        She ignored his words, shutting her window and locking it. She walked to her bathroom and washed her hands off in the sink, before crawling into her bed and crying herself to sleep. 

        .

        .

        It was graduation day, but she felt anything but excited. It's not like a high school diploma would fix everything in her life. 

        However, depending on how she plays this out, she just might be able to escape this.

        She received her diploma on stage, with little to nobody except her parents clapping (Ren was in line, but he wasn't going to clap for the girl who "tried to frame him for murder"). She quickly exited the stage, sneaking out of the ceremony and running out to the parking lot. She hopped into her car and drove away.

        For weeks she's planned this out. She sold her phone and laptop in case there was any tracking malware installed by Ren, buying a new phone and laptop. She gave her parents her phone number and told them not to give her number to absolutely anyone. She checked all over her car, inside and outside, looking at every nook and cranny inside the engine and outside for any airtags or tracking devices. She packed up all her clothes and important essentials, putting them in luggage and shoving it into her car. She closed all her old bank accounts and opened new ones now that she was 18, bank accounts her family or nobody else could access, transferring all her money into said accounts. She only had a few hundred bucks, and she refuses to stoop so low as to ask her parents for money (she does not want to be indebted to Rose). She said her goodbyes to her parents this morning, knowing she won't see them after the graduation. She even found Ren's car in the parking lot before the ceremony and slashed all his tires so he couldn't drive after her. 

        She didn't know where she was driving, but she was driving away from her hometown, from her family, and from Ren. She'll find a new home, and she'll learn to be happy there. She'll live inside of her car until then, and she'll search for a job until she can eventually save up money for a place.

        Weeks went by as she drove in and out states, looking for a place to settle. She slept on the side of the roads, and picked up cheap food from any gas station or fast food joint she could find. She would use free wi-fi from those fast food joints or public places, and she would take showers in the public showers of trucker gas stations (she would wear socks during her showers though, like hell she'll contract ringworm or any other fungi). 

        Living homeless was uncomfortable and downright scary, but she felt it was better than being Ren's wife. 

        A month into her escape, she received a sketchy email from a supposed learning institution. The supposedly email basically summed up to them being notified that you were looking for a med school, but because of your recent arrest charges, you can't get into any schools. The institution is offering to accept her into their school under any medical degree and skill due to the fact their school doesn't accept discrimination of any kind. 

        It was extremely sketchy, it even had a poster of a doctor recommending euthanasia for suicidal people (honestly she could use that). 

        But it was something? If she actually got a degree from these guys, then she could really get her life back on track! Get a job! Become a pediatric nurse! She could actually make something out of herself and be happy on her own!

        She responded back to the email, surprised to see the email reply not even ten minutes later. The email came with a short "thank you", followed by an address a few states away. (Y/N) gathered her items and walked out of the dining establishment, hopping into her car and putting on a GPS to follow the address.

        This was her future, wherever it will lead her, it must at least be better than Ren.

        .

        .

        (Y/N) woke up from her sleep, tired and disoriented. She felt a warm presence holding her, and looked up to see Andrew. Andrew's hand was placed on her head, his other arm wrapped tightly around her body, holding her close in a protective manner. 

        (Y/N) tried to carefully sneaking out of his hold, but it was to no use. She didn't want to wake him up, so she just resorted to lying there. She looked at her clock, noticing it was 8 A.M, far earlier than she'd like to be up by. 

        She looked over at Andrew and smiled. It's funny how she enjoys this practical stranger's company far more than she enjoyed Ren's, but I guess the difference between them is Ren was a stalker who didn't have any boundaries, and Andrew wasn't. 

        (Y/N) mentally gushed over his handsome face, resisting the urge to giggle as she saw drool on his lips. 

        What? She's allowed to mentally enjoy the peaceful sight. Who cares if he's a murderer staying with her rent free and she murdered his sister. She doesn't have many peaceful things in her life, shut up and let her enjoy this moment before her life goes to hell once more!

        She remembered that her parents had spent the night, and that (Y/N) had express-shipped a package today for Andrew. 

        (Y/N) groaned, closing her eyes for a second before reopening them. She placed her hand on Andrew's arm, shaking him until he woke up.

        "Uh... (Y/N)?" Andrew muttered, sleepily. "Something wrong...?"

        "Morning, sleeping beauty." (Y/N) teased. "Ready to start today? We have a bunch of shopping to do."

        "To spend a day with you? I'm honored." Andrew hummed sarcastically, before reaching his hand out and touching her cheek, gently pinching and tugging it. "Let's get today started, bedhead." He smirked, before ruffling her messy hair. 

Hello, my stars! I know Andrew didn't show up in this like, at all, but don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad.

Chapter 7 is done! Phew! This was probably the fastest I've ever written a chapter for you guys. I've just had a lot of free time this week and I felt really motivated to do this chapter, so I'm glad it's out! Chapter 8 has most of its outline work done, so now it's just the matter of getting to write it! The series is starting to wrap up, but I think it probably won't end until chapter 10-12 (no promises though).

I also know that Andrew wasn't (was barely) in this chapter. I wanted to do a chapter of (Y/N)'s backstory, but I didn't expect it to get so long... I just didn't want to half-ass it. It was better separating the chapters after all though!

Don't worry, chapter 8 will have tons of Andrew. I'll make it up to y'all by doing a cute little date with Andrew and (Y/N), where cute, wholesome things happen. Nothing bad. Thank you all for reading!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for questions about the story and new plotlines/ideas, not for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, current chapter, chapter 8, chapter 9 (in the works)

Want to listen to music while reading? Check out the Star Patient's Official Playlists! Multiple different playlists and genres!

[got-ticket-to-ride]

hi sorry but do you have any soft mclennon moments to share too :') the post you made about 22 seconds of longing hurt oh my god

Sorry for the delay in reply anon. I'm actually just a corporate collar acting my way as a temporary secretary every hard day's night, jobbing like a dog, 8 days a week in an English garden to afford a tan in the rain.

Hope this finds you well! Here are 22 McLennon moments as compensation for Johnny's 22 agonizing seconds in the pining video.

1.) "I'm Happy Just to Dance with You" scene when they both looked at each other at the same time. And the director had to pan out the scene because it would've been too straight. I know dilated pupils when I see it.

2.) Inviting your favorite boy to a solo trip to Spain but you stayed in Paris because it was so romantic, sharing a bed, picking out clothes for each other, slurping all the banana shakes, you know normal roommate things according to historians.

3.) Getting a solo invitation from a hot photographer and bringing along your best boy because you are attached to the hip and can't be separated.

4.) Their need to constantly touch each other

5.) Scene in Help (1965), where John is using all his strength to carry George and Ringo's weight and not crush Paul (because boyfriend things)

6.) Holding hands for mental support during a recording. (John is needy, please forgive him)

7.) Walking Martha like a couple in 1967 - outfits coordinated and all

8.) Impressions by people who met them:

"[John and Paul] sort of had their own way of communicating. Hardly anything was spoken, they just knew what the other wanted or was getting at and they had the most amazing talent."

"He was like a different animal with Lennon. When they were together they became something else, more than just the two of them together. That communication was incredible. It was like two high-speed computers just fizzing between each other."

9.) John is hiding his cigarette behind him, because he doesn't want to bother Paul with the smoke. (You know, boyfriend things).

10.) A portrait, king and princess up front. John's thigh just casually resting on Paul's (yet again).

11.) The spider fingers during a press conference, because they are actually both 12

12.) That very flirty jam session in Austria in 1965 that was cut short, but they probably continued after anyway

13.) The way they talk about the day they met sounds like "how I met the love of my life" Happy Honeymoon <3

14.) Quote from Emerick

The lights in the studio were turned off to set the mood; the sole source of illumination was a table lamp next to the wall. The two beatles, lifelong friends and collaborators, sat on high stools, facing each other, studying each other’s lips intently for phrasing.

15.) When they answer each other's songs

Paul in Can't Buy Me Love: "If it makes you feel alright?"

John: "I Feel Fine"

17.) “I could even hear what they were saying off-mike; ‘Oh Paul, you’re so cute tonight’ was met with the reply, ‘Sod off, Lennon.’” — Joan Baez on accompanying the Beatles to their concert in Red Rocks Amphitheatre, Denver. 26 August 1964

18.) Paul looking at John like he wants to eat him later after finishing with "I'm a Loser"

19.) Giving instructions on how John's hair needs to "look"

20.) Paul acting as John's walking stick

21.) Paul's heart eyes during this 1966 conference (also that lip bite... eat you later?):

22.) John the worried boyfriend who checks on Paul in the middle of an interview and doesn't believe him when he just says : "oh, yeah..."

John internally: "come on now, why aren't you laughing at my joke babe? You're unwell!!!"

The Bottles over and out.

Thank you for this ask. This was quite fun! Would love to hear your thoughts too <3

[kerryweaverlesbian]

A friend of mine asked for advice on writing a poem so, I figured I'd share it more widely. This is how I personally tend to go through the process (although sometimes poems just come in a stream of consciousness and I'm like damn where'd you come from???)

This gets long so, under the cut

To me, a poem is circling around an idea through building a structure, so:

1. Figure out a key idea that connects two things together("smoke is a metaphor for hidden places" + "Mary Supernatural's relationship to motherhood" = "Mary Supernatural's hidden feelings about motherhood explored through the metaphor of a house fire")

OR a scene where something very sensory is happening ("eating a live octopus", "running on a cold day")

2. Write a short paragraph of whatever comes into my head as I think about that. Connections to other works, random lines, images, concepts. The ideas can be cliché and shit and not be used in the final piece!!

I'll do one rn for the octopus concept:

"What could the octopus be a metaphor for? Struggling to create a piece of work? Like how I rotate pieces of media around in my head for a while sometimes without getting a clear thought on them, as I am with Mouthwashing right now. The struggling kick of life. A life without hands, only senses. A constant reaching forever. Maybe a squid would be better, it releases cloudy ink...? But it's not as big as an octopus. Poem speaker confused between squid and octopus. The sensation of being strangled from the inside by the octopus tentacles. Fighting against yourself and your own instincts to give up. Tears forming as ideas form. Salt and copper. The tongue is kind of like a tentacle in itself. 'I swallow it, until it becomes mine'."

^ this helps solidify the ideas of the poem without having to battle through 3 or 4 drafts while looking at a blank page willing ideas to come out. Sometimes I just do that part in my head but it can be helpful to refer back.

What I love about poetry is that you can just skip to the exciting bit! You don't need a bunch of characters or scene descriptions or dialogue. It can all be the bit that makes you go hell yeah cool cool cool!! (<- guy who finds literary analysis cool)

3. Whichever of those ideas speak to you, use some to write a first stanza. The rhythm can be whatever sounds good in your head:

"I'm eating an octopus

(Live)

With gusto,

It's fighting me back but I bite."

So now we have an established rhythm! For this one it's

7 syllables [no comma]

(a short aside)

3 syllables,

8 syllables.

Now for the rest of the poem I can use that same rhythm, which keeps me focused. If you don't want to come up with your own rhythm, there's plenty of established poetry rhythms and rhyme schemes, if you google "types of poem" they will appear as if by magic. And of course you don't have to use a pattern at all. Again, this is just what I do.

To be clear, I don't tend to literally count out the syllables, you can feel what the rhythm is by saying the poem out loud (which you should do FREQUENTLY as you write to make sure the emPHAsis doesn't go ON the WRONG word). There's poetry terms for emphasis but I don't know them because I only did up to AS level poetry 😉

If you ever find the rhythm isn't working, change it. It's your poem. Do whatever you want. Changing the rhythm can also be used to show "this is a change/escalation in idea". It's a song with a bridge.

4. Keep talking about different parts of the metaphor in that structure:

"The tentacles writhing

(I chew, I chew)

A battle,

A hunt for the truth.

The hinge of my jaw

(It hurts, it hurts)

Unkindly,

I stick in my tooth."

^ I often slip into rhyming, this also helps not get stuck thinking of literally any word from the english language that could be used. As Monica from FRIENDS says, "rules help control the fun!"

"The [something] of muscle,

(My tongue? Its leg?)

My burden,

My begging for proof."

^ my close personal friend square brakets when I can't think of a description this instant! Wooo!

"[Some sort of 5th stanza that has an end rhyme for proof, maybe with the "salt and copper" concept?]

I'm eating an octopus

(Live)

But I'm winning

It's hard, but it's worth it, the fight."

^As you can see I added an extra syllable for the second to last line, you gotta just listen to your heart sometimes. When ending things I like to harken back to the beginning! It can be a little cheesey sometimes but that's okay, poems are allowed to be cheesey!

That's my general approach. Something that really, really helps with writing poetry is also... reading poetry. You get to experience a lot of rhythms and rhyme schemes and ways of talking about ideas and how different poets use the foundation of a poem to express their meanings. Reading this poem back, I was writing spontaneously but I can very clearly see influences of A A Milne (my mum's favourite poet!), The Jellyfish by Marianne Moore and my dear friend @lesbianjoannaharvelle 's poem I wish I could draw for the theme of wrestling with creativity. Our works are in conversation! Isn't that cool!!

Anyway. Kiss kiss.

[likeadevils]

if you had to guess purely on vibes, what order do you think the ttpd and anthology songs were written?

i know you said just based on vibes but i wanted all of my opinions to be researched and defensible so this has taken me hours to write. most of these are still opinions though!!

2022/Early 2023: i'm guessing she was mostly working with aaron on new stuff this year, while her and jack were building instrumental tracks and stems, so they could streamline writing while she was on tour if she wanted to. i'm also guessing she did 1989 tv early in 2022 and speak now tv that winter, but that's mostly based on vibes.

UNKNOWN: Clara Bow, Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus (i could see this being recorded later in spring 2023, but it just sounds so 2022 to me), I Hate It Here, I Look in People's Windows (could easily be a post mh breakup song, but this is my list), Cassandra Dec 2022: Instrumentals for Fresh Out The Slammer, Florida!!!, and Guilty As Sin are recorded in New Orleans (FOTS and Florida were confirmed to have their vocals recorded in New York) Apr 12, 2023: Taylor is photographed at Electric Lady, then Aaron shows up to all three of her eras dates in Tampa (Apr 14-16). The songs credited to both Jack and Aaron are But Daddy I Love Him. (implausible given how she and Matty were not publically dating at the time, this would be three days after her and joe announced their breakup) and thanK you aIMee (more plausible imo but still unlikely). If I had to guess I would say Taylor was recording Who's Afraid, but idk she could've not recorded anything and just have been in the studio to be in the studio, yknow

MAY: matty month. i'm guessing she was mostly working with jack, but theres nothing stopping her from working with aaron (until he leaves for tour on may 18 and is gone the rest of the month). i'm also guessing she was planning on recording a taylor's version this month, because fresh out the slammer, guilty as sin, and the alchemy all have christopher rowe credits, who is taylor's main tv collaborator.

UNKNOWN: But Daddy I Love Him, Fresh Out The Slammer (i could also see this being what i call a "wrap up song", which is a song written late in the process about emotions felt earlier in the process, in order to fill listeners in about some crucial detail(s) she hadn't covered in a song. think like, style being the last song written for 1989, or fortnight almost definitely being written in october), Guilty as Sin? (this might've been written earlier, but i doubt it was recorded before late april), Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?, The Alchemy (i'm a "it was originally about matty healy but it fit so well for travis that she decided to retroactively transform it into a travis song" truther, but that can obviously be totally wrong) May 7, 2023: The Albatross (mostly based on taylor and aaron both being in nashville and her officially getting together with matty, but i could see this also being a wrap up song) May 24, 2023: Florida!!! May 31, 2023: The Tortured Poets Department (two photos of her from this day are labeled as "the tortured poets department" and "ttpd" are on her and jacks insta)

JUNE: reports that taylor and matty broke up hit early june. jack leaves for europe in july and gets married in august, so i'm guessing he wasn't super available again until september (she also isnt photographed at electric lady between Jun 28-Sep 5). so i'm guessing the more intense jack stuff was written in june (aaron was def still around though)

UNKNOWN: My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys, I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, imgonnagetyouback (just based on when GUTS was released, i'm guessing this wasn't written after september 8) Jun 22, 2023: The Black Dog Jun 29, 2023: Down Bad

JULY: seems like aaron time! jack is seemingly in europe, aaron wasn't touring, and he showed up to two eras dates this month

UNKNOWN: So Long London, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, How Did It End? (this might've been written in april, but personally i would need a couple months to be able to process and express this), The Prophecy, Peter

AUGUST: a weird month! aaron is touring (though he is in nashville on the 15th), and Jack gets married on the 19th so i imagine he was busy. taylor was photgraphed in a studio in LA on the 2nd that, as far as i can tell, was not credited on TTPD (i don't have the anthology credits though).

SEPTEMBER-DECEMBER: wrap up time! i'm guessing theres probably a ton more down here, but i erred on the side of songs being written in the moment-- but i don't think she was writing multiple songs a week while on tour from may-july

UNKNOWN: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) (i guess it could technically have been written earlier but it feels too playful to me to have been written pre-september. also the christopher rowe credit makes me think she was recording another tv late in the year), loml (it feels like a june/july song to me but it has a christopher rowe credit and that throws me off) So High School (for obvious reasons) Early Oct, 2023: Fortnight Nov 13, 2023: Us (taylor also played bdilh for gracie that night, so we know it was written by november)

WHO KNOWS: i could see all of these being written in 2022 or 2023

UNKNOWN: thanK you aIMee, The Bolter, Robin, The Manuscript

[athforskz]

More Random Ult Kpop Group Questions: SKZ Version!

I did something like this a while ago when I first started this blog. So it’s time for another round! Questions below the cut I'm marking as MDNI. Like before, feel free to use this template of questions for your own ult group & tag me (and some friends if ya like). I love to see everyone’s responses 🤗

Dumbest thing you believed as a new fan?

Oof… there’s a few things I fell for as a baby stay, technically I still am a baby stay I think, BUT here’s my uhhh list: 

I thought Hyunjin had an identical twin brother.. 🫣 wait WAIIIT before you come at me, there was a rumor/joke going around at the time and obviously I didn’t know any better, so I believed it. There were even really good edits of Jinnie and his “twin” too. Then when I watched interviews where Hyunjin said he was an only child I was like ???? but eventually I figured it out.

I thought the sunshine twins were legitimately twins (they are) . Like biologically. Wtf is up with me believing twin things??

At first, I could NOT for the life of me tell the difference between Lee Know and Jeongin. No joke thought they were the same person. Which looking back on this one… how could I ever have trouble with them? They literally look nothing alike in facial structure and sound completely different in the way they talk & sing. Only thing they’re the same in is their menace behavior. 

2. Favorite duo/ship?

Usually not a shipper type of person but in regard to favorite friendship dynamic in skz, it’s gotta be SeungChan. Just watch this and there’s my reason why. Jilix is a close second because, again, sunshine twins. Followed by MinChan because watching Lee Know with his only hyung is so precious.

3. Favorite Racha (or other mini group within the whole group)? 

MeanRacha (Minho, Seungmin, & I.N) One of these 3 is literally always up to something. Causing chaos when you least expect it. The phrase “Lee Know is linoing” has become a favorite of mine because it always means he’s doing some menace antics again.

4. Favorite unreleased song?

There was a song that Hyunjin and Chan recorded years ago that Chan supposedly lost. We got a snippet of it and when I heard it I went feral because like Red Lights part 2???! PLEASE I NEED THIS SONG LIKE I NEED AIR! Chan like wtf do you mean you lost the track?! FIND IT. RECORD IT AGAIN. 

Also, all the solo performances they did at the opening concert in Seoul for the DominATE tour. Yeah, I need all those unreleased songs to be RELEASED right tf now. Give us another Replay album! And Chan… ykw let me shut up and be good for once, but I just wanna say THE GRASS AINT WORKING 

5. Favorite old song of theirs? Favorite song from their most recent project?

HEYDAY by 3racha. The whole song is a vibe but Jisung’s lazy rap when he first starts his part just does something to me 😩 

In regard to the whole group, I’d say the song 'YAYAYA' is one of my go-to jams from their older stuff. I love the tempo changes, scratches my brain in a good way.

Now as for the new album “ATE” this may be controversial to say but “I like it” is my favorite. It’s just so catchy!

6. Has your bias/bias line changed?

Since the last time I did this, yes and no? I mean as I’ve grown more as a stay I can confidently say OT8! But if I was forced to choose I say Hyunjin no surprise there and Minho.

7. What about your wreckers?

Chan continues to wreck me every. single. day. Like it’s truly insane, that man KNOWS what he’s doing. I’d also like to add that I.N has been wrecking me left and right the last few months which I blame his hyungs for that. 

NOW FOR THE UNHINGED QUESTIONS!

Please skip this portion if it makes you uncomfortable. This is the delulu brain talking. 

8. Which member are you attracted to the most physically? What about emotionally?

Physically I’m going to say OT8! Like have you seen those MEN?! I would be lucky to even get a crumb from them like bffr. Changbin, Hyunjin & Minho

Emotionally probably Changbin & Chan. From the glimpses we get of their true feelings & perspectives on things I relate to them the most. Honorable mention for this one will be Hyunjin because he’s such a romantic and I wanna say Seungmin too. I feel like before we didn’t get to see a lot of Seungmin ‘off camera’ per se, but with his [Song by] series we get to see more of his real personality and thoughts.

9. If you ever actually had the chance, who do you think you’d work out in a long-term relationship with (please remember the first rule of Kpop)? 

Probably, Changbin. Mans is a walking green flag. He’s a good listener, considerate of other’s feelings while still being honest. Always there for you. Funny af too. Overall, considering how I am as a person I think, Changbin would just be a good match for me. Like in my delulu brain me and Binnie would have that friends to lovers trope going for us. Even my dearest honey bun thinks so, she did write about it for me afterall💕 

10. A favorite kink of yours and member to fit that kink?

To keep it somewhat light in the kink department I’m going to go with hands. And a member to fit it the best, aka who I think has the most attractive hands will go to Jeongin. Innie has giant and such well structured hands. Rings sit so pretty on his fingers too which makes me feral. Like AHHDKSISVJKDW please grip my wrists and throat sir! *ahem* I mean, please let’s hold hands 🫶🏽 

Honorable hands mention will go to Minho because the veins on that man’s hands are just so ✨🥴

11. Favorite sluttiest choreography/move they’ve done?

Damn do I have a lot for this one *cracks knuckles*

The choreo for Silent Cry. Need I say more?

Anytime Hyunjin body rolls

Every single hip thrust/roll from Minho

The “POPPIN 🗣️” part in Maniac, especially when Binnie does it.

That one part in Charmer. Y’all know exactly what part I’m talking about.

Red lights. Need I say more, pt 2

The entire choreo for Taste. Bonus points to Minho when he did the special stage where he’s fucking hip thrusting from the side (I hope y’all know which one I’m mentioning here)

12. Most unhinged fic or edit you have enjoyed of them?

There’s a lot for this question too but I’ll keep it short. I’ll start with unhinged fics. I enjoy dark themes because let’s face it. Trauma. Please be warned these fics aren’t for the faint of heart, so if you read them, be warned. Some are lighter than others, but please read warnings!

Game Over feat. Seungmin & I.N by @sanakimohara

Games feat. I.N by @dandelions-143

Chemical Infatuation feat. Han by @hanjisick

ABANB series feat. OT8! by @doitforbangchan

The SKZ House series feat. Chan & Hyunjin by @writeonwhiskey

As for edits, there are even more that I enjoy. But I’ll only choose 1 for the sake of time and it’s only letting me attach one video.

Alright, that’s it! Thanks for reading if you stuck it out this far! I really didn't intend for it to be this long but it was so fun that I got carried away. Now for tags, I’ll go with my typical beautiful babes @doitforbangchan @jehhskz @torialefay + anyone else who wants to join!

[borom1r]

WAILING @theshakespearetrash sent me 2 ask memes for Boromir asks (who is very much Not my OC skfhshfjjs but I will Always do character analysis I love character analysis so much. rotating him so fast in my brain. microwaving him on high)

+ not to be a kinnie on main (voice of a man who is always a kinnie on main) but I will be answering these all w/ a sort of Boromir-lives scenario in mind -w-

anyways ask meme 1 + ask meme 2

1. What memory would your OC rather just forget?

ok I feel like it’s the cop-out answer to say “his fall to the ring” but I feel like Boromir is the sort of person to.. not like stew on things but very much takes the stance of “good or bad, all my choices got me to the current moment and made me who I am.” + I feel like there’s so much tangled up in his fall completely beyond his control where that’s the only memory that he’d like. actively want to erase from his mind

2. What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

HM. good with kids. I think unless you’d seen him with Faramir/his cousins when they were younger you wouldn’t guess (he’s a soldier and a very plain man when he’s not putting on a show for his father), but he’s just genuinely great with kids

3. What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

loves too much + quick to lose hope. painfully aware of this

4. When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

fight response. 100% the kind of man who gets kicked out of a haunted house for punching a scareactor even though he knew a scare was coming. Faramir and Aragorn have both almost gotten throttled bc they unintentionally snuck up on him

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

OOO. When He Is Of Sound Mind, not actually very far. he was raised with the knowledge he would be giving his life to Gondor, whether he died in battle or sat on the throne as steward. add to that the act he puts on for Denethor, everything he does to protect Faramir— he’s a man born to serve. his own wants come last

6. How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

it would take. a DESPERATELY long time and an almost complete degradation of his mental state. Boromir arrives in Rivendell in October 3018, and the very next day is the Council, at which point he sees the ring and is IMMEDIATELY influenced by it. yet he doesn’t fully fall to it until the end of February 3019. he’d been fighting its pull for almost four whole months by the time he does anything malicious. resisting the One Ring for FOUR MONTHS. <- reasons why if I see someone call Boromir weak for falling to it I will see red.

7. What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

teehee obviously again Boromir is not my OC so I will take this as an excuse to Be A Kinnie + say, I do remember Boromir being returned to us sometime after my coronation. so that’s one way my memories differ from canon, which is sort of an answer to this prompt snfjsjfj

8. Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

OH YEAH. I mean yeah if we’re talking like actual criminal murder and not just Slaying People On A Battlefield like. yeah 100% he would IF he was within Minas Tirith. you know Denethor would do everything in his power to cover that up lmfao

9. Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

YEAH YAYYYY I GET TO MAKE MORE PPL LISTEN TO CROM AND BARONESS!!!!

anyways “have you ever seen a man so strong have you ever seen a man so great when he fights time stands still and everything seems so unreal but deep inside of him this man is torn” what if I bit things about this song

+ also listening to Magnolia and Shock Me by Baroness with Aragorn/Boromir in mind makes me ill. im Unwell.

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

HMMMMM The Frankenstein Chronicles gave me brain worms so I might write a Frankenstein-inspired thing at some point. sth sth consequences of divine resurrection

11. What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

RAAAAGH. AUTISM TIMEEEEE.

Boromir uses a hand-and-a-half arming sword (meaning it’s balanced for single or double-handed use, with a crossguard). it’s a really elegant sword, very simple and utilitarian. speaks to an adaptable combat style as well. but, interestingly? Boromir carries a Rohirric shield, and if you notice Rohirric swords don’t actually HAVE crossguards the way Gondorian blades do. this tracks, and was common with Roman and early Germanic swords— BECAUSE these cultures were Also relying on shields for blocking.

and an additional note, Faramir’s sword is single-handed. so we’ve got a ranger who prefers the use of a bow and hasn’t experimented much with his sword combat, and his brother who prefers a sword and carries a very versatile blade with 1) a Rohirric shield and 2) a ranger’s vambraces designed to protect his arms from a (nonexistent) bowstring. I just find Boromir’s mix of protective gear so interesting, esp if you consider he and Théodred as at LEAST friends. like Boromir carries so much of the people he cares for with him into strange lands even when he (arguably) has little need for such gear

12. Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

yes and no. I think, not consciously? but he absolutely values himself lower than the people he cares for. he goes to Rivendell to keep Faramir out of danger, he takes multiple arrows to the chest and keeps fighting to defend Merry and Pippin. I think if there’s a risk of someone he loves getting hurt, all self-preservation goes out the window

13. If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

oh I would be staring at him like a predatory animal and trying to psychically convince him to lay on me in full armor

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

HGH. ok I don’t think he necessarily. does?? and this is generally a Silly Little Headcanon bc of a comment a Most Beloved Friend made abt how everyone gets their autism from their dad (real+true) + now in my head “haha Faramir got his autism from Boromir instead” BUT. like genuinely I don’t think Boromir has an actual image of himself in his head or like processes that ppl perceive him, necessarily. and particularly when his father is holding him up as this aspirational figurehead for Gondor, like… I think he’s just himself, in his head. idk how to describe it well for the neurotypical ppl in the room snfskfjs sorry. like I don’t process myself as having Traits so ppl tell me they think I’m cool or funny or they enjoy being around me and it’s always like “!!! oh!” + I think Boromir is the same way. I think Faramir could describe Boromir to him + Boromir would just be like. “huh.”

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

it’s Sean Bean + it will always be Sean Bean. sorry other Boromirs you simply pale in comparison

16. What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

VERY high by necessity. he’s a soldier he’s absolutely patched up his own injuries before, at least to hold over until he could see an actual healer

17. What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

ahh. I wrote a very personal fic exploring self harm urges w/ Boromir, so I suppose that

18. Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

very personable, when he’s of sound mind sndnsj

19. How does your OC behave when enraged?

oh he’s a silent anger type for sure. just seethes quietly. hello, consequences of spending time in an environment where you have no actual outlet for your anger + must simply sit there and Stew.

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

again, When He’s Of Sound Mind, no. the man’s got a big heart and life’s too short to be petty

21. Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

hitting him with the autism beam bc I can. I do also think he’s lost at least partial use of his arm in a Boromir Lives scenario, considering where the first arrow struck him

22. What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

HMMM neutral good. he’s not chaotic enough to be.. chaotic (lol), and I think he’s too willing to go against Gondorian Popular Opinion to be lawful.

23. What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

HMMMMM pain, actually. or “weakness.” I think if he can quantify it in his head as “showing weakness” then it’s getting stuffed in a mental box and Not Addressed

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

ok well. None. I think with his circumstances he had zero choice in his path. HOWEVER. I am deeply DEEPLY fond of Boromir learning how to play an instrument after the war ends. I STILL struggle to blow my wassail horn that shit takes SKILL that I do not currently have and Boromir was the BEST at blowing his horn?????? I think he deserves to learn how to play an instrument, esp bc Aragorn, Merry and Pippin would ALL be delighted to have Boromir play while they sing. Boromir learning hobbit folk songs????? Rohirric songs, to honor Théodred?? yeagh.

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?

HES SO. FUNDAMENTALLY LOVING. love is such a core aspect of his character he is so wholly loving that the ring has NO CHOICE but to try to twist that love. bc it’s all Boromir has. love. im going to throw up abt him.

AAAAAAAAAND:

alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

has he ever BEEN completely alone? mm, no. has he ever felt that isolated? I think absolutely, by the time the fellowship leaves Caras Galadhon. obviously he doesn’t deal with it well el oh el.

as for how he acts when no one’s around to see him… I don’t think much changes, tbh. he’s not the kind of man to Perform for anyone except his father, and then with the express purpose of placating the man and keeping his ire towards Faramir to a minimum

betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?

been betrayed? hm. truthfully, no, though I’m certain he felt betrayed by Aragorn’s reluctance to be anything resembling a king.

has He betrayed someone? Technically Yes, though again, if we apply the qualifier of “When He’s Of Sound Mind” the answer is no. his betrayal comes under the influence of a Malicious Magical Artifact Which Has Been Fucking With His Mind For Months, so.

bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?

ooo, hm. I think not, actually, though it is a fun little idea for angst

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

gestures wildly at canon. I mean that’s his lowest. we’ve all seen it.

desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?

again, canon— to see his people safe. he’s very open with that desire, lol

failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?

AH. canon again. though what he does to move past it… mm. quite a lot of atonement, I think. perhaps of the self-destructive, working-himself-too-hard variety. I do think speaking with Faramir about *his* experience with the ring would help, because Boromir is the first to hold Faramir up as this sort of paragon of Goodness. so I think to know *Faramir* was tempted would help him better ground his experiences as, like…. Not A Deep Moral Failure Exclusive To Himself

fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

ehehe. this is one thing I’ve touched on in a Faramir-centric fic, but the idea that the ring showed Boromir visions of Faramir dying at Denethor’s hand should he fail to return with the ring.

had Boromir lived to discover Denethor had nearly burned Faramir alive…… Mmmm. mmmmmmmm.

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

worst possible? if he’d actually managed to claim the ring. I shan’t elaborate -_-

ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?

MM. his own actions. dead friends, dead loved ones. though if you mean literally, haunts him, I do like to think that Théodred’s Oðr pays Boromir a visit every now and again

guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?

see above. handles it?? mm. atonement, again. direct action. he accepts it and does what he can to make it right

hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

HATE? Orcs, probably. Sauron. that tentacle motherfucker outside Moria. he’s not a hateful man, so. shrugs.

heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?

that ended badly in the interpersonal sense? mm, unlikely. more ended badly in the “somebody fucking died” sense.

I do think he had One (1) fledgling romance in Dol Amroth that ended with the other squire dying and that was sort of the catalyst for “ah. If I love people they’ll Probably Die, so maybe I won’t do that” baggage that he didn’t really unpack until, I think, Théodred. add the additional layers of Denethor Being Denethor and Boromir having such great standards to live up to…. with all the love in my heart, that relationship only happened bc Théodred saw Boromir, went “I need to fuck that Gondorian so bad it makes me look stupid” and proceeded to work his way through 1700 layers of gondorian mental bullshit just so he could suck some dick (me too bestie)

hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?

hm. my first instinct is to say “not much” but ultimately I think he’d hide anything he can quantify as “weakness.” his own distress, any physical pain if he needs to be up and moving, etc. he’s only able to share that earnest moment with Aragorn in Caras Galadhon bc of Galadriel’s influence. he’s not used to being seen. so, if there is sth that would hold him back from fulfilling his duty as a soldier it is absolutely getting hidden/ignored.

hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?

hm. not necessarily Hunted, but I do think he is followed by Denethor’s expectations. it’s sth I’ve talked abt in another ask + that I go into in the costuming doc but such a key element of Denethor’s design is his son’s motifs but Richer, Grander. so… I do think Boromir is constantly alert of, like, how his father will perceive him, bc there is this very insidious sort of competition, this need for Denethor to show his sons up (whether a conscious need or not). and I do think that would weigh on Boromir quite heavily

mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?

mm again I think he only really wears a mask/performs for Denethor. anyone else would be too much effort for too little reward. at least if he plays Golden Son for his father, it keeps Faramir from being harassed as much

however, as for who gets to see him when he’s.. not just unmasked but actually RELAXED… Faramir, his uncle and cousins, Théodred, Aragorn, the others in the fellowship but particularly Merry and Pippin

midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

does he have nightmares? oh definitely. what he does in the small hours of the night? depends. if he’s on campaign/traveling/otherwise away from Minas Tirith he will either lay there in his bedroll and Think (bad) or get up and write letters. depends entirely on where he’s stationed/who he’s with. if he Is at home in Minas Tirith, I expect he just goes for a walk + looks at the sky

mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?

I think I’ve pretty much answered all of this above, so skfjsjdh

monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?

nah, he’s not ❤️‍🩹

nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?

answered w midnight for the most part— I’ll just add that no, he wouldn’t really talk about his nightmares. that requires showing vulnerability lol. I think Théodred and Aragorn are the only two who could coax him into speaking about his nightmares/fears (he wouldn’t want to burden Faramir with such nonsense)

pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

answered sorta (yes he has a high pain tolerance) but worst pain? gonna go with three orc arrows to the chest

secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?

HMMMM again I don’t think there are many secrets. I do think if Denethor found out he liked men it would be disastrous

skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?

hm. I think he’s generally at ease with himself, or at least content with Not Thinking About These Things. I think, had he directly survived the arrows, he would have to grapple with like. the idea that he did prove Aragorn’s fears about men correct (whether Aragorn would agree with him or not)

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

Four Months Of Slow Mental Degradation Due To An Accursed Magical Artifact!!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

(no he wouldn’t torture anyone else)

wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?

hm. He would say mostly physical wounds. I’d argue a mix of both. he’ll accept as much care as he needs to stay on his feet and fighting. worst wound is definitely still arrows lol

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Things are out of whack. So I'm writing ☺(smol-ey = smol smiley). This song has been on 100% repeat for the last several hours of my life and heavily inspired what is below. This is only Part I and I don't know how many there will be. But I've taken quite a few notes on it. I would just say be ready for more.

SFW ::: C/W ::: A-n-g-s-t & language. (aged up) ProHero!Katsuki x F!reader, things didn't turn out like either of them thought and they're doing their best to move on. But can they? Do they really even want to?

WC ::: Just under 700

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

He called you at 8:04 that morning. And while you didn't answer, you did do him the courtesy of listening to his voicemail.

Katsuki's voice was gruff and rough around all of the edges. He didn't like that you probably looked at the phone when it began to ring and you either flipped it over or pushed the volume button to silence the ringtone that you two had so sweetly picked out together when you first got together 3 1/2 years ago.

The sound took you back to that time when everything was new and fun and so simple that you thought it would be like that forever. But you were harshly reminded that if things don't change, they will most likely die. It would take a miracle to figure out where, along the way, did you both change so much that you couldn't live together anymore.

"Oi, I know you're sitting there looking at your phone, listening to that fuckin' stupid little song we picked out on our 11th date. Yeah, course I remember. Anyway, uh, whatever. I mean, you needa come by and get the rest of your stuff outta here. I -” You heard a muffled sound as he tucked the phone away and yelled at someone. “- hold the fuck on, can you not see that I'm on the fuckin' phone? Jesus. Uh, um, oh. Get the rest of your shi- uh, stuff today. P-please. I'm off today and won't be home between 9 this morning to about 6 or 7 tomorrow morning. That should give you more than enough time to get everything. Ok? O-ok. Leave your ... key, too, I s'pose. Well, that's it. I lo- fuck! Bye, y/n."

The tears welled up in your eyes like they had everyday this week. As soon as you opened them to take in the empty space around you, in your bed, your bleak little apartment was a fucking joke compared to the place you two once lived together. And while you're the one who, for all intents and purposes, asked for this, you couldn't lie to yourself any longer: You did not want to be without him.

You did not want to be away from the man you loved with every cell of your stupid body. Every breath. Every heartbeat was the beating of a drum sounding out his praise. Every smile and every flutter of your eyelashes was because of him. God, you miss him.

But to just leave it at this? To let go completely? That would be an admission that it's how things will be from here on out. And you're just not ready for that to be your final answer.

Texting him back, in response to his call, you said as little as you could, still getting the point across. "Yeah, thanks for the heads-up. I'll take care of everything and leave my key on the kitchen counter by the coffee maker." You choked back a sob as you thought about all the times he set up the coffee the night before and climbed into bed with you. Wrapping his arms around you. Snuggling his face into your neck and telling you that he made it extra strong, just how you like it. And that he picked up your favorite creamer flavor - it was 2 for $7, so obviously he got you 2 of them because it would be fuckin' stupid not to. 

It hurts to breathe. It hurts to walk. It hurts to be awake. You have all day and all night to get over there and clear out whatever is left of your lives together. To leave the one thing behind that could get you to him at any moment in time. 

So, you threw on a pair of his old sweats, an old favorite shirt of his, and a hoodie with his Pro Hero name on it. Fixed your face. Put your hair back. Grabbed your purse and headed to your favorite coffee place to get something to appease this godforsaken headache you had brewing in the core of your brain and drove to his place.

You drove home. 

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