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fallingappleshurt · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets To Save You

~~chapter description because I forgot last time~~~

Tubbo is dying and his only hope is Techno getting supplies for a healing potion in the Nether

Eyyyy bad description but I did chapter two eyyyy and I bet the docs formatting got messed up eyyyy

TW: Swearing but nothing to bad

Chapter 2: Into Fire

Techno always found the fourth ring to be somewhat depressing, it was dirty and broken, the sidewalks and roads eventually morphed into dusty gravel then dirt. The houses were small and in shabbley, garbage and junk crowded parts of the road and the fence that was supposed to separate the rings from the forest had kinks and rips in the mesh. Nature still managed to push through, bushes hiding yards from view, flower pots on window sills.

Even with the fence keeping the forest out there were actual trees in the fourth ring, some leaned over the fence, vines creating cover along the edge. The people seemed happy at least, he passed a rinky treehouse, filled with shrieks and giggles. An open nearby window let a soft melody drift out into the street.

He would have appreciated it more if his head didn’t feel like it was about to explode as he rushed down the street

Skeppy lived in a little scrappy house, one of the windows was busted and the door creaks every time it’s touched but it was a good cover for what was underneath. Skeppy had hollowed out a huge space underneath that was hidden by chests, it was basically a secret basement. It had mini farms and stolen goods, Skeppy was good with his hand and could make just about anything. He’s been running a racket.

Techno knocked lightly on the door, he heard shuffling inside then the door squeaked open and Skeppy poked his head out, he had redstone dust against his cheeks.

“Who- Oh hey Techno, what’s up?”

“I need help,”

“Never a dull moment with you, what do you need?”

“I need to go to the Nether.” Skeppy raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Did you hear about the attack in the second ring?” Techno asked, Skeppy nodded, “My little brother’s friend got withering poison and I need to get potion supplies.”

Skeppy’s face dropped, he opened the door all the way, “Come inside,” Techno stepped inside and found himself sitting at Skeppy’s shitty table, tapping his fingers nervously along the scratched wood.

“What all do you need?” Skeppy asked, digging through one of the chests along his wall.

“Nether wart, blaze rods, and blaze powder,” Techno listed off, hoping the Captain hadn’t forgotten anything.

“I only have nether wart,” Skeppy said.

“Do you know of anywhere else I could get it?”

“Without stealing or for a reasonable price? No, sorry man.”

Techno groaned, jamming a hand in his hair, “I need to get this stuff, Tubbo’s life depends on it.”

“I still might have something that could help- would you be willing to go to the nether?”

Techno blinked, would he? He wanted to help Tubbo but there he had only read about the Nether and it’s creatures years ago, a hellish, hot, burning landscape with danger at every turn. The mobs were loud and explosive, some could fly and shoot fire, or that could actively hide and breathe in lava. He didn’t want to go in there, he had no idea how to handle, even with all of his training.

Then he remembered Tommy.

He remembered that Tommy was going to lose his best friend if he didn’t do this. Tubbo had his whole life ahead of him, he was a smart kid and Techno knew he’d go far and do great things, both of them would. Those two had been side by side for years, they were a part of each other. It was never just Tommy or Tubbo, it was Tommy and Tubbo.

He couldn’t do that to them.

‘You could die!’’ The other side of him reasoned, he shoved it aside. He had to do this, for Tommy and Tubbo.

“Yes,” He rasped, Skeppy grinned then walked over to his mattress, pulling a bag out from underneath it. He tossed it at Techno, who dumped it’s contents onto the table, papers and pens scattering everywhere. He grabbed one of the folded pieces and opened it, revealing a detailed map with bullet points along the side and in the margins.

“If you’d let me explain before dumping all of my stuff everywhere, these are maps around the Nether, one to get a portal I have in the woods, one on how to get to different regions of the Nether and notes on what to do or avoid. Do you know how to navigate the Nether?”

“Not in the slightest,”

Skeppy laughed, “You’re so bad-”

“Just tell me what to do-”

“Let me talk, so when you first get in there don’t step on anything that glows, it’ll either burn you or break. Just try and stay anyways from any mobs, you’ll see a lot of these pig things but as long as you have something that looks like gold on you then you should be fine.” Skeppy shoved the papers around until he found a yellow pin.

“Wear that on your shirt and they should leave you alone. For the rest of it, just follow the map and try not to get set on fire.”

“What about the fortress?”

“I’ve been in the fortress once before and it was absolutely terrifying, the blazes had these weird sticks that fly all around them and they will spit fire at you so watch out, they usually are in their own little boxy areas. The only real advice I have is try not to get set on fire.” Skeppy said, shrugging. Techno sighed, shoving the papers back into the bag.

“Thank you-”

“Oh, you’ll need this for the portal, to start it up,” He handed Techno a piece of metal and flint, tied together, Techno pocketed it.

“Thank you-”

“It’s whatever- oh wait let me grab the nether wart,” Skeppy jumped up, pushing one of his chests to the side, climbing down a rusty ladder as Techno continued to clean up the maps. Skeppy emerged from the gap and tossed a small pouch at him.

“There you go,” He paused, “Good luck, and you know the drill, you never got that stuff from me.” Skeppy grinned, Techno snorted, shouldering the bag and opening the door.

“Of course, I’ve just met you, it’s Skippy right?”

“Haha, very funny-”

“Later Skippy-”

“Techno-” Skeppy’s retort was cut off by Techno closing the door. He didn’t know much about the Nether but he knew he needed a weapon so he headed back to the apartment to get his sword. The walk back was uneventful though there seemed to be less people, and guards milling about. Techno chalked it up to the commotion in the second ring.

Coming into his neighborhood, he climbed up the rusty stairs to their apartment and opened the door. Inside Wilbur and Tommy were passed out on the couch, a bandaid was on Tommy’s cheek and he didn’t see Phil anywhere, the coast was clear.

Techno slipped into his and Phil’s room, putting the bag of nether wart under his mattress, he grabbed his sword from under his bed. Running his fingers along the sheath to clear the dust then adjusted it to his belt.

“Where are you going?”

Techno turned and saw Phil in the doorway, he froze. He couldn’t tell Phil he was trying to sneak into the Nether, he didn’t even like Techno going to the duels so him walking into what was essentially hell would have been a no go.

“Tommy told me what happened, is this for Tubbo?”

Techno nodded, he didn’t like lying to Phil but he didn’t want to worry him either, well, more then he already did.

Phil sighed, “You aren’t gonna be able to earn enough money for hospital care in one night,”

Techno blinked, realizing he had an out, he didn’t have to tell Phil what he was doing, not directly, just tell him that he was going to help Tubbo.

He swallowed, “I can try,”

Phil looked down, after a moment he said, “Be careful, okay?”

Techno nodded, he stepped forwards and placed a hand on Phil’s shoulder, Phil put his hand on top of Techno’s. “Of course.” Then as quietly as possible, he walked out of their apartment and back towards the fourth ring, dodging the few guards and walking along the fence until he found a big enough opening.

He had only been in the forest once before when he was younger and it had not gone well. He shuddered and pushed away the memories, pulling out the map of the forest, and started in.

The edge of the forest had garbage and junk littered around, a few animals poking at it or climbing on the bits of metal sticking out of the dirt. Further in however the garbage started to recede and foliage looked more lush, the tree rustled as squirrels ran along the branches.

Techno pushed vines out of the way looking at the trees for Skeppy’s landmark, at the heart carved into the roots, turn left and keep going until you reach the mountain. He scanned the surrounding trees, hoping to see the mark but coming up short. He walked further, stepping over roots and flowers, trying not to disturb the foliage. It wasn’t night yet but if monsters were nearby then he didn’t want to alert them.

Techno wandered a bit further until he looked down and saw a little heart carved into the root of a sycamore tree, after checking the directions again he turned left and continued on. The terrain started to get rockier and steeper, tree roots bent out and tangled and more noticeable then ever. The dirt changed into stone as he approached a small craggly mountain, checking over the map again he couldn’t find any other directions besides ‘look for the cave thing- you know what you mean’.

Of course Skeppy would write something like that.

Techno looked up and down the mountain, trying to see if there were any openings or caves when he spotted one halfway to the peak, groaning, he started up the cliff side, not bothering to avoid any plants in his path this time.

This turned out to be a bad idea because he stepped on a patch of leaves and vines and immediately fell into a hole. He lay flat on the ground for a moment, contemplating his life.

After he finished his internal scream fest he pushed himself to his feet to try and find a way out of this stupid hole, only to look up and see an inky wine colored arch in the wall and a nearby chest covered in dust.

Yeah this seemed like something Skeppy would make.

Techno got up, dusted himself off, then checked the chest, finding it was empty besides a thing of rope which he left alone. He pulled out the flint and steel and spent the better part of ten minutes trying to light the damn portal before finally getting a solid spark.

The portal shook then violet tendrils crept from the edges and twinged together. The portal swirled loudly and Techno threw himself in before he could change his mind.

He stumbled into what he could only define as literal hell.

The air was hot and somewhat sticky, everything was either bright orange or a dark red. Monsters shuffled around, grunting and groaning, a high pitched wail sounded in the distance. Lava dripped from the ceiling and pooled into sluggishly moving puddles, he could feel it’s heat even though he was a safe distance away.

He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, digging through his bag he found the nether map and started jogging deeper into the rough red realm.

Techno followed Skeppy’s landmarks, a really gross looking blue tree, a deep hole that led directly to a lava pit, and avoided a very dark and foggy biome then continued straight.

He was starting to give up hope when finally he saw a large dark brick structure over a sea of lava, he looked around and saw the path Skeppy used to get to it. A little tunnel in the rock that led to a part of the fortress that was stuck in the wall.

He hopped onto the top of the structure and immediately felt uneasy, like someone was watching him. He walked along the top until he found an opening and climbed in, drawing his sword, the halls were empty but you could never be too careful.

Techno wandered down the hall until it opened into what seemed like a courtyard of sorts. Broken and rotted creatures walked along the railings of the fortress, unbothered by his presence. A breathy hiss drew is attention, a blaze, or what he thought was, hissed at him.

The blaze chucked a fireball at him, he dodged back then ran forwards, slashing at the monster. He caught it once before it flew up, screeching, Techno dodged another attack and swung in an arch, clipping the blaze. It howled again before bursting into smoke, dropping two merigold rods on the brick.

Techno shoved them into his bag, not sure on how many to get, on one hand he wanted to leave but if it wasn’t enough then the whole trip would have been pointless and they would lose Tubbo.

A breathy hiss made the decision for him as he ducked away from a fireball, then charged at the approaching monster, it was better to over prepare then under prepare.

Techno fell into a rhythm of sorts, slashing, stabbing, and dodging. The thing about the duels was that they made him feel alive but also dull, it was the same thing almost every time; some dumbass with a cocky attitude and little to no sword skills, it was easy.

Fighting the blazes was different, they were unpredictable- chaotic, deadly.

They didn’t have any rules to play by, only going on pure instinct, not bothering to try and banter to entertain an audience. It was new, fresh, dangerous, he got used to the fire just barely licking at his skin. It got his heart pounding and lungs aching- it was almost fun.

After what felt like seconds but had to have been at least an hour he had 14 blaze rods. He shoved them into his bag then ditched the fortress, rushing back out the way he came. He ran until he reached the blue biome again and stopped to break.

While waiting he saw a lanky black figure standing by one of the trees, he squinted at it. It looked familiar, Techno knew he had read about it before but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Then the figure started screeching and ran at him. Techno jumped then lashed out and got a solid blow but was thrown back against a tree, shaking his head he slashed the creature across the chest then stabbed it. It’s jaw unhinged, it howled, staring at him with wide purple eyes then disappearing in a puff of smoke, leaving behind a blue ball.

Techno picked up the ball, looking it over, after realizing he didn’t know what it was and therefore probably had no use to him, he chucked it behind him and started back towards the portal.

Only to be farther back then before, he yelped, looking around frantically. What the hell just happened?

Then it hit him. He remembered reading about Endermen and their strange relationships and reactions to humans. He also remembered Tommy telling him about these weird, rare blue balls that they dropped that could teleport you if you threw them; he had learned about it in school and wouldn’t stop talking about it for a week.

He realized those could be pretty useful, especially in the Nether, then set out to look for more of the lanky creatures. After about an hour he had fought multiple but only managed to get three pearls but that was still better then nothing. He slipped them into a pouch on his belt and continued back to the portal.

Once out of the Nether, after getting over the wave of nausea, he used the rope in the chest and climbed out of the hole. After sloppily covering it up he ran back through the forest, to the rings. The moon was starting to dip towards the trees and he realized he had been in there all night and that would make the trade off harder but Techno still had time.

He climbed back through the hole in the fence and headed towards the Captains house, cutting through yards and possibly trampling a few flowers and other things. He made a pit stop at his apartment to grab the Nether wart and dropped off his sword. He ran to the edge of the second ring and skidded to a halt outside the house.

Techno knocked, quietly but quickly, until a scruffy looking Captain opened the door.

“Techno?” He asked, “What are you doing here-”

“Let me in, I got the stuff,” Techno said, pushing his way in, the Captain closed the door.

“What stuff?”

“The potion supplies,” Techno set his bag down on the table, the Captain’s eyes widened.

“Wait you actually got it? How?”

“Don’t ask questions you aren’t prepared to hear the answers too, just take them.” Techno set the pouch of nether wart on the table then proceeded to dump out all of the blaze rods.

The Captain didn’t move, he stood there staring at the materials.

“You got everything else?”

The Captain nodded and Techno smiled, heading towards the door, he was exhausted.

“Good to know, I hope to see Tubbo soon.” Then he left, closing the door, heading back home, where he drank half of his body weight in water then collapsed into bed.

He hadn’t heard much from anyone in Tubbo’s family for three days. Everyday Tommy would come home from school and report that Tubbo was still missing. Techno would bite his lip and hope that the Captain would be able to make the potion. He had avoided stopping by to cause less suspicion.

On the fourth day, a Saturday, someone knocked on the door. Tommy was in his room, Phil was reading in the living room, and Wilbur refused to get off the couch so Techno answered the door.

Tubbo stood there, looking up at him holding a plate of cookies and a folded note.

“Oh! Hey Techno! These are for you guys, they are from my mom!” Tubbo said, pushing the plate closer, “And the note is for you, from my dad.” He added quietly, “Said it’s a secret.”

Techno took the plate, smiling softly, after finally finding his voice; “Thank you, come on in for a minute.” And pulled Tubbo inside. He set the plate down and pocketed the note.

“Hey Tommy, come here for a second!”

“What is it?”

“Just come here!”

Tommy’s door opened and he stepped out, “What’s the big idea-” He trailed off upon seeing Tubbo, who waved.

Tommy stood there, in shock before launching himself across the room and bowling into the other boy, shrieking.

“Tubbo! You’re okay!” He said, wrapping his arms around the other.

“Yeah!”

Wilbur got up from the couch and Phil followed to greet Tubbo, ruffling his hair, and telling him they were so happy he was okay.

After the room had settled, Tommy immediately drug Tubbo into his room, asking him what the poison was like. Phil warned Tommy to be careful in case Tubbo was still healing and Wilbur warned Tommy to not touch any of his stuff.

Techno stepped away and looked at the note.

‘Please bring Tubbo home tonight then talk to me- Captain’

The vagueness of the note made his stomach turn, the whole rest of the day Techno worried about stupid things like ‘what if the potion only worked temporarily and Tubbo was still in danger? What if a guard saw him doing all the very illegal actions he did last night? What if Sparkles reported him?’

When Tubbo said he had to get going, Techno offered to walk him back, then still proceeded to worry the whole rest of the way there.

He followed Tubbo inside his house when the Captain pulled him into the kitchen and gave him a hug.

Techno stood shocked, blinking, before awkwardly returning it. The Captain had never really seemed to like Techno, he was never mean, just always seemed on edge. The Captain pulled away, eyes shining.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He said, “You saved my son's life, without that potion he would have died- thank you.”

“It was no problem,” Techno said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “I care about the kid a lot and he helps keep Tommy out of trouble, so it was the least I could do.”

“The least- oh nevermind, I still want to thank you for risking your life for him and ask you a question.”

Techno nodded hesiatinely.

“Does anyone else know about what you did?”

“Just one other person, but trust me he won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, I had an idea, potions are in high demand so I was wondering if you wanted to do a little back alley selling,”

Techno raised an eyebrow, “How so?”

“You would get the ingredients, I would make the potions and sell them off then we would split the money. And I know that we aren’t that close but this could help both of our families, if you are willing to.” The Captain offered his hand

Techno considered it, “I don’t want to be doing any of the hand offs-”

“No that would be all me, all you have to get is gather the ingredients!” He assured, Techno sighed then took the Captain’s hand.

“It’s a deal.”

#yep I did it boys #this chapter is like 11 pages bRuh #oof- gamer moment #mcyt #minecraft youtubers #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #sleepyboysinc #philza #technoblade #family dynamics #dff au?#Apples Writing #chapter 2 #sleepyblr #Skeppy #Tubbo #tubbolive #mcyt DFF AU

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johnbbutmakeitace · 4 years ago

Note

for the song prompt, here's two: stay by gracie abrams and finally // beautiful stranger by halsey

two for the price of one! i like it!

stay

The day they broke apart, it was raining.

Thunder began to rumble when they started to argue. They argued over what they always argued over-- the gold. JJ still wanted it, despite the fact that it had cost John B and Sarah their lives. It was the only way JJ could think of to honor them, as stupid as that sounds now. He couldn’t let Ward get away with it. If he let it go, then the kooks would get everything, and the pogues would get nothing. JJ couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t let his best friend’s sacrifice be for fucking nothing.

It was a simple affair, really. JJ wanted to go after the gold. Pope didn’t. He had a rescheduled scholarship interview to think about, after all.

Rain stung against his skin when Pope said that. Of course he knew Pope had another interview coming. Of course he was happy for Pope to have a second chance at freedom, a second chance at a happy, successful life. Of course he knew. He just thought-- well.

He thought that-- after everything, everything they’d fought, laughed, and cried over-- after everything they’d been through together-- he thought that Pope would want to stay.

Pope insisted that they needed to give up the treasure hunting nonsense and let the gold go. Bury it in the past, JJ thought bitterly, like the two empty coffins they’d put in the dirt not but a week ago.

A small part of JJ knew that Pope was right. A big part of JJ was lost and grieving and fucking furious.

Lightning danced over a raging ocean when JJ lost it. It was selfish of him, he knows. But JJ had always been a little bit stupid when it comes to the big picture. That scholarship meant everything to Pope, and he’d almost lost his chance once. Now that he had it again, he wasn’t going to let it slip past him. JJ knew that.

Pope had a chance to get away, and he was taking it. And in that moment, JJ hated him for it.

Cold water slid down JJ’s spine as Pope walked away for the last time. He hoped the rainwater would have extinguished the misplaced rage and grief in his heart. Hoped it would have cooled the fury burning in his chest, the stubbornness forcing his fingers into fists. Impossibly, JJ hoped the storm would have let him see reason.

It didn’t.

The day Pope left for DC, the sun was shining. He packed up all of his things into three suitcases, loaded them into the car, and left. Kiara rode with him to the airport to say goodbye. JJ spent the day surfing.

He spent the night drinking alone.

The day the bank takes the chateau, it drizzles. The day he burns the rest of John B’s things, it pours. The day Heyward offers him a job and a place to stay, it’s a cloudy, mute morning. The day Kiara tells him he should give Pope a call, it hails.

She does that a lot. Insist that he should reach out. He never listens. Pride is an evil, spiteful thing, and it’s got its claws dug into his heart so deep JJ thinks it might be the only thing holding his heart together in the first place.

He doesn’t tell Kie that, but JJ thinks she might know anyway.

This goes on for months. Kie insists he should give Pope a call. JJ never does.

He wants to, though.

It comes slow and small, this wanting. It starts in his chest, slips right between the bloody claws of pride and makes a home in the scar tissues on his heart. It begins to grow, and grow, and grow until there’s a little flower blooming there-- right in the remnants of the only friendship he didn’t want to shatter. And oh, this little flower hurts in it’s own right. It makes him ache in a new kind of way. A way that makes him want to reach out. A way that makes him want to mend, makes him want to heal.

He thinks of reasons why he should. In the end, he comes up with only four.

Because he’s selfish. Because he’s tired. Because he’s sorry. Because it’s raining.

The day he calls Pope, the sun finally shines, and that flower blooms.

finally // beautiful stranger

The drive back to the outer banks is as eye opening as it is nostalgic.

The sun is as yellow as Pope remembers, maybe a little less vibrant than it was in his youth, but still bright nonetheless. The drive makes his eyes tired, and the sunlight bouncing off the ocean in the distance catches in his rearview mirror on occasion, making him squint. He doesn’t mind, though. The waves are still just as beautiful as they were when he was a kid.

The poverty of his hometown is clearer to him, now. Pope thinks it’s a little funny, how idyllic childhood makes the world seem. Money doesn’t matter so much when you're a kid, even when it should. But childhood is meant to be spent not worrying about the adult world. When you’re a kid, you’re supposed to worry about spaceships and dragons, not when your next meal would be.

At least, for normal kids, anyway.

The pogues weren’t like that. It seemed like worry and fear followed after them wherever they went. It was just a part of the life. They were so caught up running from beatings and kooks and security guards, they didn’t have much time for imagination. Sure, they still had dreams, but not about dragons. They dreamed of second chances. Second chances to start over and dump the shitty cards they’d been dealt.

The pogues already knew that dragons didn’t exist because they had real monsters to worry about.

Maybe that’s why they all latched onto the idea of the gold so hard, Pope thinks as he pulls into the parking lot of the wreck. Just for a chance to use their imaginations and act like normal kids, for once.

Kiara is waiting for him in the lot. Leaned up against the side of her Honda Civic -- which has more bumper stickers plastered on it than it does actual bumper-- sucking on the straw of a pink looking drink she must’ve got on the ride down, because there’s no way in hell Pope’s mom wouldn’t have heard about a new Starbucks on the cut and told him immediately.

“Heya, stranger,” Kie smiles wide when he steps out of the car, and Pope’s heart trips over itself a little at the sight. Fuck, he’s missed her.

“Hey yourself,” he says before striding over and pulling her into a spinning hug that makes both of them laugh. The familiarity of the motion makes something warm settle in Pope’s chest, and he sets her back down with a smile. “How have you been?”

“Good!” Kie says cheerfully, before posing against her bumper like she might for the cover of vogue. “Cali’s been good to me, can’t you tell?”

He can tell. The California sun has made her tan skin glow, and the many flowering tattoos she’s got on her forearms spill out of her shirt sleeves like they’ve always belonged there. Her curls are still as wild as they’ve always been, pulled up into a bun and held back by a multicolored bandana. She looks as beautiful as ever.

“I can definitely see that.” Pope agrees, and Kiara beams.

Despite his delight at seeing her again, Pope finds himself glancing about the parking lot, looking for a familiar hint of blond hair, the seemingly endless amount of light in blue eyes, the bright hint of a smile.

The sad thing is, deep down, Pope knows he’s not going to see him, standing there between the cars. He still looks anyway.

“Is he coming?” Pope asks, and something in Kie’s smile falters, a bit.

“C’mon,” she says, and slips her arm into his. She leads him towards the restaurant. “I had my mom reserve us our usual table. You can tell me all about DC and your fancy forensic program while we get a drink, okay?”

Pope takes her avoidance for what it is. He keeps his smile up, even if he doesn’t want to so much anymore. “Okay.”

They spend the next few hours drinking and catching up. Kiara tells him all about California and working with GreenPeace and the sun, and Pope tells her about GWU and the forensic program and the snow.

Pope will gladly admit that it feels nice to come back again. The wreck is a place of comfort for both of them, filled with memories of laughter that haven’t been tainted and ruined by the world. It’s a little bubble of safety they find themselves in, and Pope takes more solace in it than he probably should.

Despite this, he still feels like there’s a piece of that safety and comfort missing. The empty chair beside him serves as a reminder, and Pope tries his best to fight off the disappointment that his best friend is not there to fill it.

Well. Former best friend. Maybe.

They haven’t talked since Pope left. At least, not really. The occasional phone call didn’t exactly clear the air like talking in person would.

That fight had been so stupid in hindsight, but they had been pretty stupid as kids. It was part of their charm, Pope supposes, but. That still didn’t make him feel much better.

The night was winding down when it happened. Both he and Kie were well and thoroughly on their way to being a little too drunk to drive, and were, admittedly, starting to turn a bit giggly. Kie saw him first. Pope saw the way her eyes widened, mouth stretching into a grin before Pope was whipping around to look, and there he was.

He stood, hands shoved into a pair of well worn jeans. His T-shirt showed a big logo for the mechanic’s place in town, meaning he’d probably just got off of work. A familiar shark tooth necklace still dangled around his neck.

He looked tired, but healthy. A bit of stubble stood out against his cheeks, and his hair was longer than Pope remembered. There was a well worn looking hair tie wrapped around his wrist, probably for keeping his hair out of his face while he was at work. His eyes were just as blue as Pope remembered.

“Hi,” JJ said.

Kiara was up and out of her seat before Pope even had time to think. JJ’s face broke out into a smile as he embraced her tight. Pope stood quietly while Kie berated JJ for never calling her enough. JJ flushed, mumbling something about working full time and running errands for Heyward. Kie rolled her eyes at the excuse, but her smile was fond.

Then Pope was standing in front of them, and he and JJ were face to face.

“Hey,” Pope said with an honest smile. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” JJ huffed out a slight smile, but wouldn’t meet Pope’s eyes. Pope had never seen JJ look so nervous. “It’s been a while.”

“I missed you.” Pope said. Because he didn’t know what else to say, and because it was the truth.

There was an unbearable silence for a moment as they just stared at each other. Then--

“Look, Pope,” JJ started. “I’m sorry--,” and before he could say anything else Pope was pulling JJ into a hug that was maybe just a little too tight. JJ went still for a moment, then melted into Pope’s arms like he’d never wanted to be anywhere else.

“Wanna have a drink?” Pope asked as they broke apart, gesturing back to their table.

JJ’s smile was small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Sure.”

The night went on, and JJ began to loosen. He smiled more, began to add his own witty commentary to the conversation, laughed at Pope’s bad jokes between sips of beer. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

And when JJ fully leaned into Pope’s side as they all burst into laughter, his smile so bright and his eyes so happy and blue, the only thing Pope could think was-- finally.

#mayward song prompts #jjpope #mayward #outer banks #outer banks fic #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #mayward fic #this felt weirdly cathartic to write #have no idea why but eyyy #my fic

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wreckofawriter · 5 years ago

Text

Painted Books

Pairing: Young!Sirius Balck x Slytherin!reader

Word Count: 3,297 (I'm sorry I got carried away)

Warnings: Swearing, Underaged drinking, Mentions of alcohol abuse/addiction, Super long

Summary: After a prank Sirius ruins something extremely important to you, so you get pissed. While sneaking around he realizes why you were so pissed and tries to apologize

A/n: Omfg I havent been on tumblr for like a month I'm so sorry I was inactive, high school has sort of been kicking my ass. I hope this super long story makes up for it. I actually kinda like this one alot, hope you enjoy it.

Hatred filled you like air into a balloon. Your blood had been replaced by lava and it was steaming, white-hot through you. Those idiot Gryffindors were going to regret everything they have ever done in about 10 minutes you thought as you looked at your common room. Red and gold covered everything. Every couch, every chair, every table, every wall, and unfortunately for you, every book and paper on the tables. You screeched loudly.

You had simply left for 30 minutes to eat dinner before returning to your homework and now, not only was the positions essay you had almost finished been ruined but so had your charms, Defence against the dark arts and herbology essays. Along with the seven books for those classes you had bought at the begging of the year. There was no way that you would be able to clean the paint off, it was surely enchanted and now you would have to stay up all night finishing essays that would never be even half of the quality the originals were.

As the rest of the Slytherin house began to clean up the mess you had ideas of making a new one. And not of their common room but of Sirius Black's face.

You snatched your soggy papers and books off of the table and stormed out of the room. The second you saw him your anger returned like a boiling title wave. He had just ruined all of your work from the past week and now he was laughing throwing his head back as his shiny teeth flashed and his glistening black hair fell away from his precise jawline and cheekbones. You walked straight up to him and before he could even look at you, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and threw him against the wall holding him there. As you did you heard many people utter gasps of surprise and James yell something but you were defened by wrath. His eyes widened in surprise then relaxed as you saw your small frame.

“You think this is funny?” You yelled holding your paint-splattered papers and books up for him to see.

“I do find it quite amusing.” He answered with a smirk.

You screeched again, shoving your fist upward effectively throwing him back against the wall and jabbing him in the throat. You may be small but you were far from weak.

“Look if you wanted to throw me against the wall you could have just asked.” He winked, his voice coming out raspy from his throat being half closed by your hand.

“You absolute piece of shit!” you screamed, “You just ruined all of my work from this whole fucking week! I'm going to fail because of you!”

“You could just sleep with the professor again.” He sneered Your eyes widened in shock, it had been a year since the rumor of you sleeping with a teacher had ruined your social life and here was this high and mighty asshole, who had slept with half the school bringing it up again. You had had enough. You brought your knee up and as it connected with his crotch you dropped his collar and he tumbled to the ground with a scream.

“You say anything like that again I will break your nose.” You hissed down at him, throwing your ruined essays and books at him. With that, you turned on your heel and left pushing past the group of students that had gathered to watch. Before you could exit the scene a hand grabbed your wrist.

“What the hell was that for? It was just a stupid prank!” James yelled as you snatched your hand from his grasp.

“It wasn't just the prank asshole.” You growled glaring up at him.

And that was the truth it wasn't just the prank. It wasn't your homework being ruined, hell it wasn't even the fact he accused you of sleeping with a professor. All of those things were insignificant to the real problem. He had ruined your books. No, you’re not some Ravenclaw who obsessed over books, and it's not like they were signed by the author either they were simply books. But not to you. To you, they were the extra hours you worked at a stupid coffee shop. They were the late nights and early mornings you had forced yourself in to. They were the reward you got for getting stared at by men twice your age because of the stupid tiny skirt that was somehow considered as a uniform. Hell, you worked all fucking summer. Your whole summer was just dumped in paint by some pretentious brat and his even more pretentious friends.

When you reached the Slytherin common room you were close to tears and when you entered you saw the one thing that could cheer you up. Kathy. Kathy was your best friend, she was also one of your few friends, I mean you were a Slytherin half-blood, you were no Lily Evans. She was also Slytherin and was the good cop to your bad cop attitude. When she saw you she rushed you upstairs as you explained what happened.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter crept quietly (not so quietly) through the halls under the famous invisibility cloak. James stood beside them his head-boy badge shining in the light of his wand.

“Shut up Wormtail,” James scolded, “I think I hear someone.”

They all stopped and listened. With the shuffling noises silenced they could hear something. Laughter drifted through the halls. Soon muffled voices could be heard from some hidden place.

“I think they're in the kitchen,” Remus whispered.

“I hope they’re Slytherin.” James giggled as they approached the hidden door to the kitchen. James poked the bowl of fruit, hitting the apple once and the orange twice. The door swung open into the first layer of the kitchens. They shuffled in James taking the lead they were about to continue through the next doorway when Sirius heard a voice that made him jump.

“Wait!” his whispers called to his friend.

“What?” James whispered back.

“That's Y/n,” Sirius explained.

“Hell yeah this is going to be fun,” James smiled wide happy to catch you out of bed. “Finally get the bitch back.” He began to walk toward the second room in the kitchen when Sirius stepped out from beneath the cloak and grabbed his shoulder.

“Just let me see what she's doing.” He asked.

James’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

“Please.” Sirius begged his friend, “Then we can bust her.”

“Fine” he muttered

Remus handed Sirius the invisibility cloak sighing, “This better be quick.” disapprovingly

Sirius rolled his eyes throwing the cloak over him and walked into the next room what he saw made his jaw drop.

There you sat, on the kitchen floor in nothing but a deep green crop top and a pair of shimmery silver booty shorts. Your y/h/l y/h/c hair was cascading down your back like a waterfall that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Next to you sat a brunette girl in a hoodie and sweatpants that Sirius recognized as Kathy Underhill. In your right hand, you clutched a bottle of fire whiskey and in your left, you held a spoon filled with chocolate ice cream from the carton at your feet.

“You know everryboddy thiks that imma stuck up bish now right?” You slurred, clearly drunk.

“I'm sure they don't,” Kathy said clearly sober.

“Oooohhh yeahhu they do.” You continued. “They’re all wike look at that tempershmental bitch who cants take a joke, wow somebody locks her up shes crazy, she fucked a professor for an and she is sooooo stuck up.”

“Well it's not true,” Kathy said grimacing as you took another swig from the bottle.

“SOO WHAT?” You shouted, your voice suddenly rising as you did from your crossed legs dropping you spoon on the ground, “What am I gonna say, I'm not shtuck up my mom is a alchohalic that blows her money on booze and I had to work all fucking summer in a shitty Cafe where middle-aged men stared up my skirt, to afford the books that the two ashholes you call “funny” you added very dramatic air quotes on the last word. “Ruined for a stupid prank ecaus they are stuck ups dicks who shove money up their asses for fun.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, he really shouldn't be listening to this conversation.

Tears began to fall from your eyes in large drops and Kathy sighed as you started to blabber nonsense.

“Alright sweetie, let's get you off your feet before your trip and kill yourself,” Kathy said rising toward you. You continued to sob as she took the bottle from your hands and helped you to the floor where you buried your head in her lap as she stroked your hair.

“Looks like imma just like my-” You hiccuped “- my bitch of a mother.” You groaned angrily.

“Hey honey, you will never be like that woman, I promise.” Kathy soothed, “I promise.”

“Your the best. I love you” You muttered as you began to drift into sleep.

“Love you too.” Kathy sighed.

Sirius was so caught up in the scene in front of him he almost forgot about his friends who were waiting for him. He quickly turned and walked back to the second room where he removed the cloak and looked at his three wide-eyed friends.

“Oh shit,” James muttered as he looked at Sirius who looked on the edge of a breakdown. Without another word, Sirius thrust the cloak into his friend's hands and bolted.

Of all the people he knew what it was like to hate your mother, to have nothing, to work your ass off for things that are ruined by someone who had so much more. Now he had caused that pain. He had ruined your books. He had destroyed your hard work. He had caused those tears that sprung from your eyes. He had become what he hated most.

Sirius may be fast but James was faster, and he caught the young boy’s wrist before he could escape to god knows where.

When Sirius world around James saw something very rare in his eyes, tears. They were glassy and full. One cascaded down his cheek leaving a shimmering river in its wake.

“Sirius it's not your fault.” He said looking at his friend quite concerned.

“I ruined her books.” he sniffed,

“We didn't know, it's not our fault her mom’s an alcoholic,” James explained.

Sirius glared at his friend ripping his hand from James's angrily, “Would you have cared?” he asked bitterly.

“Of course I would,” James said sincerely

“I don't think you would have,” Sirius seethed taking a step towards him. “You have always had everything, the parents, the money, the house, the smarts, the skills, the girlfriend. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE NOTHING!” He yelled his face red with fury, “So you don't know what it's like to have the one thing you did have ripped from you.” He whispered stepping away from his friend taking a couple of steps turning and sprinting back to the common room.

The next morning Sirius woke to see a stack of books on the end of his bed with a note stuck on top.

“Your right, I'm a dick, now please go give that girl these books and essays before I feel even more like shit. P.S you owe Remus big time for the essays” Sirius lifted the note to see a stack of brand new books and on top four essays each with the name Y/n Y/l/n printed in your handwriting on top. He then glanced at the stack of paint covered books in the corner you had thrown at him, they were still there covered in paint. Confusion covered him He then remembered who he was friends with and smiled.

“James you idiotic genius.” He muttered looking at each perfectly crafted essay. His eyes were shining.

You woke to a less pretty sight. Your head throbbed as you sat up in your bed groaning, you looked at the clock, you still had an hour till your first class but you were too hungry to pass up breakfast, even with your head about to explode. You got up stretched moaning at the pounding in your head and changed into your robes. You headed down to the grand hall after downing five Advils.

When you arrived you saw Kathy chatting with a few other girls you knew. You sat down next to her grabbing the pot of coffee of the table and dumping it into your cup as Kathy greeted you.

“Damn Y/n you look like shit.” a girl named Emma said.

“I feel like shit too.” You answered as you took a massive swig of the coffee.

“You stay up late finishing your essays?” Another girl asked.

You groaned throwing your aching head onto the table as the essays that you had forgotten about reentered your half-awake mind.

“I swear next time I see one of those four assholes I'm gonna put them six feet under.” Kathy hissed.

As if on cue Sirius Black tapped your shoulder. You spun around and were about to speak when Kathy rose, “I think she's seen enough of you Black.” she said sternly.

“Look I know I was I dick I just want to apologize,” Sirius mumbled seeming very uncomfortable as all the girls at the table glared him down.

“She doesn't need your fake apologizes, she’s had enough for a lifetime,” Kathy growled.

“It’s fine Kath.” You sighed, “I'm way too hungover to deal with him asking all day anyway.” You grumbled quietly to her.

She huffed and sat down glaring the boy down as she retracted to her seat.

You looked up at him waiting.

Sirius flashed bright red, an unusual sight, “Oh um I thought I could talk to you in private.” he asked his voice fading in the last words as he scuffed the ground with his feet.

You sighed, “If this is another prank Black I will break you back.”

“No no no I swear it's not.” He said hurriedly.

You groaned standing from the ground and following him out of the hall, still feeling like shit.

“Look, before you break my back can you let me finish what I’m saying?” He asked nervously, You had never seen the boy so nervous.

“Depends on what you say.” You answered narrowing your eyes.

“Alright then here goes,” He sighed “So me and the rest of us were with James last night and we umm heard you and Kathy, and I just-” He was cut off by a fist hitting his jaw.

“YOU ASSHOLE!” You yelled as you realized what he must have heard. Anger once again overrode your systems and you glared at the boy in front of you, “I swear to Merlin I'm gonna drive my-”

He slapped his hand over your mouth muffling your shouts. “Please just listen,” He begged, “Please.” when you looked at him you saw something you had never seen on his face before, desperation. This made you stop nodding as he slowly removed his hand from your mouth. Today was full of new experiences.

“Look I just wanted to say I'm really sorry for ruining your books and that I was a dick and well here.” He said as he reached into his bag and took out a bundle of books and papers.

You gasped when you saw the papers were essays, in your handwriting but much better than you ever could have written, and the books were all of the ones that had been ruined in paint except they were all hardcover and pristine as if they were bought last night.

“How did you….??” Your voice trailed off as you scanned the papers and books.

“My friends may be idiots but they’re geniuses.” He chuckled nervously.

Your amazement was replaced by rage (again) when you realized what was happening and anger flashed in your eyes, “I don't want your pity, Black.” You seethed handing his books back.

“No no no, it's not pity please.” He said as you turned to go.

“What is it then?” you glowered.

“It’s empathy ok? I know what it's like to have an asshole for a mom who never did anything for you ok? I know what it's like to have nothing. I know.”

You stared at him confused, what did a pureblooded rich kid know about that?

“Look my mom kicked me out last year, I mean not out of the house but out of the family. She disowned me and I get it, it sucks. I just got lucky to have amazing friends like James whose parents are super cool.” He sighed handing you the books back, “I was a dick, I’m really truly sorry.”

Your mouth hung open eyes wide. How had you never know this? You knew his brother and him didn't exactly get along but you never knew anything like that had happened to him. And then you did the last thing you expected you would ever do. You took two steps forward and hugged him. Dropping the books and papers on the floor, you wrapped your hands around his waist and buried your head in his chest. At first, he was surprised but it only took him a second to react and he wrapped one arm around your waist to the small of your back and his other around your shoulder resting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you closer to him.

You noticed he smelt of mint and smoke as you let your tears fall from your eyes, soaking his robes.

He buried his head into your soft y/h/c locks and he smelt pomegranate and ginger with the slight tinge of vanilla linger there. His eyes filled with tears and he squeezed them shut as he felt your body shake with sobs. You don’t know how long you stayed there but you wished to forever. When you did pull away your eyes were puffy and red as were his. You were about to turn to pick up the books and papers that were scattered on the ground when Sirius spoke.

“Hey Y/n one more thing.” He said.

“Wha-” his lips collided on yours and it was your turn to be shocked. After a second you melted into the kiss and leaned back into his minty scent as you felt his toung run along your lower lip, you tipped your chin upward giving him better access to your mouth. As his hand found the side of your cheek and yours found his hair. You pulled away after a few seconds later gasping for air.

You looked up at him cheeks flaming red, “Sorry I pushed you into the wall” You paused, “And kneed you… and punched you in the face”

“You could make it up to me by got to Hogsmeade with me this weekend.” He suggested voice barely above a whisper as he stroked your cheek.

“Sound good.” You giggled just then you glanced at your watch. “Shit!” You yelled quickly gathering you new books and essays from the ground. “I've got to get to Herbology!” you turned, turned back placed a quick kiss on Sirius' cheek, “I'll see you later.” You said before dashing out the doors onto the grounds. As he watched you go he touched his flaming cheek with his hand. A few seconds later James walks up next to him.

“She a little less pissed?” he asked nervously.

“You have no idea how much I owe you right now.”

3K notes · View notes

toxicxxmyth · 6 years ago

Text

The Truth Untold; Sebastian Stan

Sebastian Stan

Summary: Y/n Y/l/n, born and raised in south side Chicago. Now raising her five younger siblings, she’s not even sure if some of them are actually related to her. But she takes care of them nonetheless, as best as she can. While her drunk father continues to make their life harder. And her drug addicted mother comes bursting through the door once every to years. Its a chaotic life for a 23 year old, but she made it work. Until one day, the most notorious mob leaders of the country shows up to do some business in the south side.

Au: Shameless!Au, Mafia!Sebastian

Warning(s): Cussing, slight smut, poverty, drugs etc

Word Count: 3,047

A/N: This is literally a Shameless fanfic, if you’ve seen the show, AMAZING, if not than you should because its amazing.

A/N 2: Plus this lowkey kinda sucks lol, so watching the show will make up for it.

A/N 3: I didn’t write the whole smut cause i suck at it, but i’ll try my best if you guys ask for it.

prima întâlnire

The whole club glowed with blue and green laser beams shooting out from the rotating lights on the ceiling. Smoke coming out of both ends of the dance floor, the bar area seemed to be the only calm part of the club. It was Friday night and the club was beyond packed with people dancing dirty in the middle of the club. The air was thick, a mixture of the fog machine and marihuana clouds. Making it slightly hard to breathe. Everyone seemed to be having a good time.

Except you, apparently. Stress radiated off you as you sat, tensed at the bar. Watching as the bartender scrambled back and forth to take orders from everyone who crowded the bar. You couldn’t possibly have fun when your father arrived after months of his little rendezvous of drugs and alcohol. Causing even more chaos in your home.

“Y/n, I’m going to need you to get off your ass and start having some fun” Camille stutters over to you, making you lose your train of thoughts.

“Nah, I think I’ll head home for the night” You shrugged, grabbing your purse and downing your drink.

“What!? The whole point of taking you to the club was for you to loosen up, Y/n/n” She whines, bringing her hands up to rub your bare and tensed shoulders, a pout adorning her red lips. Making you shake your head with a slight smile at the drunken state of your best friend.

“I have to get back to the kids. It’s kind of hard to have fun when all I can think about is Ethan blowing up the kitchen” You sigh, wincing at the thought of your little brother destroying your kitchen for one of his stupid experiments.

“Fine, I’ll take you. It’s no fun without you” She huffs while turning around dramatically. Causing a giggle to rip from your throat. “Don’t move, I’m getting my stuff”

“You don’t have to though, I can just take the bus. You should stay and have fun with your coworkers” You reassured her as she raised an eyebrow at you.

“At 1:34am, Y/n, I think the fuck not” She gave you a look as if warning you to stay put.

Your lip caught between your teeth as you watch your best friends stumble across the club, a smile on your lip as you thought how lucky you were to have such an amazing friend like her. Grabbing your purse to take a few dollars out to pay for your drink, your felt lips against the shell of your ear, and with a husky voice, he spoke.

“I can feel your stress all the way across the room”

You turned around quickly, eyebrows raised ready to tell the guy off, only to stop and gasp loudly. Your eyes wide and mouth agape, lucky for you, the music was booming loud so the chance of him hearing your deep gasp was slim to none.

He’s beautiful, to say the least. The lights didn’t seem to bother you anymore as you analyzed every feature on the man. He had deep blue eyes, ones you could easily lose yourself into. Prominent cheekbones, his facial hair was growing out, causing your thoughts to wonder off to inappropriate scenarios. His lips where a light shade of pink, looking delicious as ever. He was older, maybe in his thirties, but you couldn’t tell. His whole body covered in black designer, he was expensive.

“Um, I-” You stuttered, brows furrowed in confusion, you’ve never seen this man in your life.

“What is it? Cat caught your tongue” He smirked, bringing his glass full of scotch to his lips. Cocky motherfucker.

You scoffed at his attitude, biting your bottom lip to surpass a smile. You didn’t know if you wanted to punch him or ride his dick into the sunset.

“And who the hell are you? My stalker?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you gained your composer as you got a clue on what type of guy you may be dealing with.

“No, no stalker here. I couldn’t help but notice your lack of interest of for being here tonight” He smiles kindly, catching you off guard.

“Yeah, well clubs aren’t really my thing, feel like I have better things to do” You nod your head, turning away from him, looking at one of the bottles that was placed on the wall along the others as if it was the most interesting thing there. Anything to look away from the beautiful stranger.

“Yeah? Like what?” He asked, downing his drink while calling over the bartender to order a new one, you assumed.

“Finding a job without having to blow the manager” You simply stated. Causing him to chuckle. His smile was absolutely breathtaking.

“What’s you name” He asked, which felt more of a statement, actually.

“Uh Y/n. Yours?” You looked up at him, only to be met face to face with his beautiful eyes.

“Sebastian”

Sebastian, even his name is attractive.

“So what brings you to south side Chicago?” You asked. Interested in why such a wealthy looking man would end up in this dump.

“Business.” He shrugged, voice lowering as he said it. Eyebrows raised at you as if warning you not to ask anymore, which exactly what you did. You wouldn’t show it, but his demanding tone scared the shit out of you, but weirdly enough, it turned you the fuck on.

“Let me buy you a drink” He offers.

“I can’t, I uh have to get back to my kids” You shake your head and getting up from the stool. Ready for his surprised face a stuttering words at the mention of five kids. But to your surprise, he was unfazed.

“Kids?” He asked, pulling out his wallet, taking out big cash as he dumped it on the counter for the barista to take. Making your eyes wind just a bit.

“They’re actually my siblings, but they’re still kind of my kids” You confirmed while nodding your head. His eyes ranking your body, you felt small under his gaze, making you feel insecure.

“Let me guess” He began, clearing his throat as he ripped his gaze away from yours.

“First born, OD’d mom, alcoholic father. Leaving you to raise your siblings, you had to grow up at a young age, at maybe” He stops and raises his hands in defense “and this is just a guess, 13, maybe? Didn’t finish high school cause of your deadbeat parents and you’re currently jobless, stealing and scamming for food and clothes in the meantime” He finishes while looking at you with a small smile.

You couldn’t help but scoff in disbelief. Wondering if you should be offended by the assumption or impress by how spot on he was.

“Mom didn’t OD though, haven’t seen her in years. But I do know that she’s out living her best life. And I was actually 6 when I realized my parents didn’t give a shit. Ended up raising my two brothers. Then came the rest” You sigh, somewhat sadly at the situation you were in at such a young age, but you loved your siblings nonetheless.

“Must’ve been tough” He gave you a sad smile, taking a sip out of his drink.

“Yeah, but I got used to it pretty quick”

“Well it seems like you know everything about me, so why don’t you tell me about yourself. I bet it’s much more interesting than my shitty life” You chuckled, hoping to get some kind of information about what kind of business he was running here.

“It’s really crawdad in here, let’s go outside” He moved his head to point at the door.

“No” You simply stated. Earning a look of shocked and surprised from the dominant male. Which boosted your ego just a little.

“This is how things work. I walk out with you, you tell me your oh so tragic childhood which causes me to pity you. Soon, once I’m under your spell, you chloroform me and a white van appears out of nowhere and I’ll be part of a illegal sex and drug trafficking ring” You smiled innocently at him.

“I’d actually be much more creative in kidnapping people”

You didn’t know if he was being funny or serious, but it made you feel a mixture of fear and desire.

“I’m from Romania, actually. Born and raised, came to America when I was 16, pretty hard to adapt to a new life. But I managed it” He offers a smile before continuing. “Dad took off with some young blondie, claiming he was in love with her” He used his fingers to quote on “in love”, “And mom got sick, and with dad gone, I couldn’t take care of her properly. So I dropped out of high school and got a job, one that paid extremely well. And I became good at it, really good, actually. So that’s me. A Businessman taking care of his family” He smiled at you, playing with the drink he had, one that you didn’t notice before.

“Is your mother okay now” You asked, your ears on full display for him.

“Yeah, she’s fine now”

You nodded your head in understatement, but a question kept bugging you, so you asked hesitantly .

“And your dad?” And just like that, his whole body tensed up, eyes darkening at the mention of him. Mentally cursing yourself for being so damn nosy.

“I’m so-”

“No, its fine. He’s out of the picture, for good. Has been for years” He had a sinister look in his eyes, which caused an uneasy feeling to burst in your stomach.

“I can take you home” He smiles, kindly, this time.

This caused you to furrow your eyes in confusion, until you realized that you claimed to leave and go home when he first arrived.

“I’m not going to hop in a strangers car and ditch my drunk best friend” You smirked, yet your hand didn’t dare move out of his grasp. And he noticed two due to the smirked that was placed on his lips. Before you knew it, you were pulled into his arms, making you gasp and pull away quickly. It felt incredibly nice feeling his lean fit body against yours, but pulling always was basic reflex.

“Feisty” He chuckle, tongue swiping across his lips as his ring covered fingers traced your features. The whole mood went from a pity party to testing both your sexual desires. The softness of it all made you lean in while closing my eyes. It’s been a hell of a while since you’ve been touched, even slightly, especially by such an attractive man.

“And you’re incredibly cocky”

“I am, aren’t I?” He laughed, and actual laugh. Which left you slightly confused.

---

Before you fucking knew it, your back was being pressed against the dirty walls of the most disgusting public bathroom you’ve probably ever been in while your neck was being devoured by a stranger you met 20 minutes ago. Your hands were firmly pressed against his chest, head tilted to the side giving him as much access to your neck as he needed.

“Fuck, Sebastian” You couldn’t help but moan as you felt his growing dick press against your underwear. Your dress pulled up to your waist, making you feel like a cheap whore. But the feeling of Sebastian’s lips sucking roughly on your collarbone, his beard scratching against you and his growing dick rubbing against your slick underwear made you forget about your pride.

His hands found their way to your exposed ass, squeezing them as hard as he could. His nails and cold rings digging into your skin made push your body harder against his. Your breathing was erratic, your hands couldn’t seem to find a place to rest upon. So you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at it so you could look him in the eye, which were now a dark blue. Pupils slightly dilated, lips bruised and painted by your pink lipstick. The sight alone could’ve made you come undone.

Sebastian had other plans, while you were admiring his features, his hand pass your underwear, pressing harshly against your clit. You gasp loudly as you hold onto the back of his neck for some sort of support.

Dragging his fingers down your slit, he collected some of your wetness and brought it back up to your clit, so it be easier to play with you. All while biting the shell of your ear.

“So wet, so delicious” He praised while slamming his lips on yours. The kiss was sloppy, but none of you minded it much.

His touch were soft, yet he had you rolling your eyes back as he rubbed you clit in circles.

You were so caught up in your own bubble of pleasure, you didn’t notice him using your thigh to rub his closed dick on. And smirked formed on your lips as your hand reached down to roughly palm him. But before you could do anything else. He grabbed your hand and turned you over the sink. Taking your hair into a makeshift pony tail, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror, all while grinding his dick on your bare ass.

“I promise, next time, I’ll fuck you somewhere less disgusting, and more expensive, but for now, you’ll have to deal with this” He growls against your cheek.

Next time...

Staring at the blank walls of your room at 6:50 became some sort of tradition. Sleep was nowhere to be found as your thoughts kept you up every night. But lately, the only thought on your mind was Sebastian, and his beautiful blue eyes, his ring covered finger and his delicious lips. Fucking asshole.

It’s been exactly a week since you your encounter, and to be honest, you were devastated, especially after he gave you the best fucking orgasm you’ve ever experience in a smelly bathroom than any guy in your bed.

Sighing for the 20th time, you decide to get up from your pity party and head downstairs for a glass of water. A sleeping pill would be great if you didn’t have five kids to look after and figuring way to get. You only had 10 minutes before waking everyone up and cooking breakfast. And preparing their lunches for school. A headache already forming at just the thought of it, but you knew it was just lack of sleep.

Half way down the stairs, you heard a loud knock on your door, causing you to stop and furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Who the hell could that be?” You thought out loud as you reached the end of the stairs, grabbing the robe that was left on the couch and wrapping it over your semi naked body.

“Delivery for Y/n Y/l/n” Was the first thing that came out of the man’s mouth as you opened the door half way.

“Delivery? What do you mean delivery, from who?” you asked, opening the door wider and wrapping your arms around your freezing body. Today was Sunday, there are no deliveries on Sundays. Though, the fact that today wasn’t supposed to be mail day, it was the least your worries. What worried you most was the man delivering it. He was dressed in all black, hair slicked back and tattoos adorning his face. A cigarette handing from behind his ear, though it wasn’t enough to surprise or worry you.

“Delivery from Mr. Stan” He coughs nervously, as if saying the name will cause a curse for all eternity.

Confused, you take the heavy box into your arms.

“Who-“

“Have a good day, ma’am” He smiles and walks away, leaving you confused, and slightly scared of what might be in the mysterious box that looked to be more expensive than your whole house.

“Ma’am? Who the hell are you trying to fool here” You questioned, mostly to yourself as you shut the door close.

“What’s that?” Came the voice of the second oldest, Jeremy, as he slouched on the couch, lighting up a cigarette as he did so. Causing you to groan in annoyance while ripping it out of his mouth.

“I have no fucking clue. Go make yourself useful make breakfast.”

“Like what?” He groans, not really paining attention to you.

Like cereal” You ordered as soon as you heard the alarm from one of the room upstairs, knowing everyone will be down soon.

“There’s no milk”

“Then use water”

Once upstairs, you closed the door, locking it before throwing yourself on the bed with the box in your lap. Pretty stupid of you to accept a box from a drug dealing looking kid, but here you were. Half way opened, you noticed a card sticking out from the side. And saw a neat handwriting, one that you could’ve sworn you’ve seen before.

“No legacy is as rich as honesty”

I know you’ll probably think I’m an asshole for this. But here’s a little something for you to get by. I’ve been in the same situation, though, I took a dangerous root. So in the meantime, here’s a gift to help you and and your family. Don’t make a fuss, and burn, just enjoy it. And I’ll see you soon”

Sebastian.

Beyond confused, you opened the box only to find a shit load of money stacked on top of another. Maybe, 9, 10 grand? You didn’t know, but you panicked. Your eyes wide in shock, your hand covering you mouth as, your hand covering you mouth as our mind tried to process what was happening.

“What the fuck, did you rob a bank or something?” Jeremy gasped as he busted into the room, staring at the money. You crumbled the note and placed it in between your legs so Jeremy didn’t notice. Once you were calm enough, you took a deep breath and closed the box calmly

“Count the money. We’re giving it back”

“Who the hell did you get involved with, Y/n?” Jeremy asked, sternly, this time. He closed the door and grabbed the box, making sure the other didn’t hear or see.

“I have no fucking clue, but that money is not staying”

#sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan headcanon #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes #avengers imagine #marvel imagine

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bigscaryyanderewriter · 5 years ago

Text

Liebling (Medic x Reader)

3k words

Tw: Medical stuff, dubcon, abuse, bondage, blackmailing, blood, yandere themes

This was commissioned!!! The first one I have gotten and I would love to thank the lovely person who paid for my writing. I definitely enjoyed writing this..please, gimme money aghaghaghagh ❤

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

The rain poured as you shuddered, the bus stop where you were staying that night was lit up by the flickering street lights while you waited for the train. Dark clouds loomed in an ominous sort of way as the storm seemed to suffocate all light that wasn't from it. It only just occurred to you that the bus may not even be coming with the weather being as it is. Your phone glowed in your hand as you tried to browse away your worries that came from being here.

You needed to get out.

You needed out of this town and away from the hand that you had been dealt by the shitty folks of the city. Anywhere was better than here. You knew that, ignoring the frantic texts from your mother. She was begging you to come home, to think about and telling you how crazy you were being.

The funny part was, she was the one who let your father throw things at you. She didn't stop him from hitting you physically and using his sickeningly good way with words to jab at every fault you had. It was worse than anything when he wouldn't hurt you. He would just rip you apart as he told you about how you shouldn't have been born, you were definitely not his child and he could never, ever see you doing anything with your life.

He didn't care about you.

You still were nursing your arm as the shirt you wrapped around it was… Less than dry as blood soaked the already rain dampened fabric.

Wincing, you looked at your hand and then nearly jumped at the shaking of any umbrella. It was a man in a trenchcoat, a pair of glasses on his face and dark hair. He was rather handsome with a good jaw and strong features, but his eyes were on you… It was an intent gaze as he was seemingly to analyze what form of foreign creature you were.

A frown formed on your face as you saw how he kept staring, "Just what do you think you're looking at? Can't a girl catch the midnight train going anywhere?" Your voice cracked with slight emotion as you turned your head away. It wasn't until he moved closer that you went to look back.

911 wasn't going to be coming, you wouldn't call for help and you hurriedly went to stand with your bag of necessities as the man grabbed your hand.

"Please, please let go of my arm!"

"Frau, your arm will get infected with zhe way you've wrapped it und I don't think you want that."

You froze, realizing the amount of blood you had bled unto the bench and pavement beneath you as your hands shook. It was surreal as he slowly began addressing your wound and a hiss escaped you. Clearly he didn't care about your actual pain as he did his thing.

He asked minimal questions, but he did talk about the weather and such. You mainly "mhmm"ed and said yeah. It was actually soothing to hear him speak, because soon you were trying to stay awake. Helping you, he informed you that he was going to take you to a nearby place and get you something to eat. You needed to stay awake.

The night went on. You learned his name was Ludwig and he was from Stuttgart, Germany. You began to feel better. The way he seemed so generous was… It was lovely, he was genuine in how he treated you. You feel the way he isn't trying to pity you, while you just dump your issues onto the table as you both eat. His brows furrowed in, frowns come and he even offers to let you stay with him. You couldn't accept. He gave you his number to call if the wound gave you more trouble though and it was… You would take him up on that.

He was very persistent on you contacting him again though, just to continue talking. You were told how you were… less annoying than the average person and it was flattering, you supposed.

After he left, you slowly made your way to a motel. Scraping together the money from working was beneficial as you now sat in a room with warmth in it. Your sleep was dreamless that night, but it was better than nightmares.

You didn't even notice how a red umbrella followed you there that night and how a pair of intense, blue eyes kept on you when you had figured they were long gone.

The cut was healing alright, but it still hurt. You had actually been texting Ludwig, who helped you that night. Mainly for info on how to deal with your wound. He was more than helpful as you took care to follow his instructions.

Money was running low for you though, as you only had enough for another day in the motel. You would be on the streets and have to figure it out. It was not a comforting thought as you racked your brain.

It had been more than once when your dear medic had offered to house you, but you… You weren't sure. A man you didn't know and the potential of bad things happening. His words seemed to convince you otherwise though. He was a doctor, he was safe. Nothing would happen if you weren't interested and he just wanted to help you.

The "if you weren't interested" part made your face heat up as you had over thought the idea of Ludwig had formed some sort of… Affection for you, other than platonic. He did seem to have more regard for your life than he seemed to have for others. It was a bit alarming the first time he talked about his patients, but it was just the world you live in. You could accept it, especially when so many worse individuals dwelled in it.

It was a confusing situation considering how he hardly knew you. Though, men were men is what you could only mutter as you thought of how your father spoke of women. A disgusting, dehumanizing way of thinking about women.

The second day on the streets after realizing you couldn't live like this… You went to him. He welcomed you with open arms, even feeding you a warm meal. New clothes were provided, even an actual bed. You couldn't stop thanking him as you tried to not cry.

His way of calming you was interesting and you often find yourself with his strong, dexterous hands on your arms. Ludwig was a very hands on type of person, never handsy in a way you didn't like though. It was those touches that made butterflies sometimes erupt in you.

The way he just seemed to have a grip on every aspect of your life in such a short span of time was intimidating though. It was almost natural after a while though. The giving up the reigns on how you lived was… It was comforting, not having to worry about so much.

When days passed and you came up with a more stable plan, you told your host about it. You would work and go live in the motel while saving money. They did have a room for rent and it was relatively cheap. It was a good idea in your opinion and he seemed to like it, but then you fell down the stairs.

You didn't notice Ludwig coming down as you did and he lost his balance, accidentally sending you down. He said sorry, but you almost thought he was more upset about your new injury. You had a concussion and your knee hurt terribly when you were helped back upstairs by your friend as you wept, clinging to him as a support.

It wasn't brought to your attention how he quietly enjoyed those noises.

You had bruised yourself and it was soon better again, but you told him that you still planned on going through with your plan and he soured.

"You can't be on your feet yet, you should just stay here und let me help you. It will all be fine. You don't need to waste your time on such things." He would say as he continued to make various excuses. It was overbearing.

The way he would say suggestive things to you always made you blush and ignore it.

"With the way you get hurt, it is almost like you want to stay with me."

"You might as well live here und let me take care of everything."

"Oh… That wince was positively adorable."

It was brushed aside, until you realized just how trapped you were here… Just like home, in a way. Suffocating in this gilded cage, with Ludwig. You needed some time alone. Time to think. The hallway floor creaked as you went to leave, somehow feeling like you were doing something bad. Cream colored walls seemed to stand eerily while you slipped on the jacket Ludwig had gotten you. Opening the door, you heard his voice.

"Where are you heading off to so late? You know it is dangerous at night and it will most likely storm." He spoke casually, as if he is warning would stop you.

"Ludwig, I'm… I need to think about things alone. I have been relying on you for too long and it isn't because I want to leave. It is because I feel too guilty staying. You have a life to live and I'm just… Burdening you." You admitted some of what you thought as you went to look back at him when you feel the pinch in your neck.

"Sh sh sh… You'll be awake soon enough and we can continue our talk." His accented voice whispered in your ear as your world turned fuzzy and warm. It was the sense of panic that drained from you until you woke.

You woke up thrashing and in a cold sweat as you shouted out into the darkness. Your body was bound against the table as you tried to angle your head to look around. Your clothes were replaced with a gown of sort. A hospital one. No one was around. "Ludwig! LUDWIG!"

A chuckle resounded as a door creaked, showing the light from the hall and the light clicked on.. Ludwig stood in the bright fluorescent beams, a pair of, what seemed to be, scrubs on as he adjusted his glasses, looking down at you on the table as you feel your heart pounding within your chest.

You froze up as you look at the glare obscuring his eyes, a wide smile on his face. "Wunderbar! You know, you slept for quite a while and I didn't want to disturb you. Just with you looking so peaceful, but now that we are at this point… (Y/N), it is time for things to change in our relationship."

"Ludwig, uhm, change? We aren't even- We are not in any relationship." You were confused and you just wanted to leave.

"Hah… That doesn't matter. You continue to live with me, I will… Make sure you continue to live."

"Live?!" You say, becoming more and more scared.

"Ja, you know how things are here. I believe that we can be… Happy, I suppose." He said as he pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Uhm, what are those for?" The crack in your voice was embarrassing.

"Well, you see. I am going to apply local anesthetic to your arm und insert a small tracking device-"

"What?!" You look at him with wide, fearful eyes as you strain even more to escape.

"Oh, it will be only a little incision on your arm. Come yourself. It will be over before you know it."

His hands were going to grab a syringe beside you and he was seeming to begin the procedure.

"I will be injecting zhe anesthetic into zhe area where I will be working. You shouldn't feel anything, but if you do… Tell me immediately, ja? Ja. After making an incision once you are numb, I will insert this chip." He pulled a small chip off the table and showed it to you, "Afterwards, I will sew you back up and you'll be no worse for wear."

"Ludwig, I don't want you to do this, please! I-i'll do anything, I promise." You didn't know what else to do other than beg, because… If you didn't, then there was no stopping him.

"This is only a security measure. I know you don't love me und it is fine that you don't. All I need is for you to stay with me." He admitted as he held your arm still. Tears slowly ran down your face as you lay there, a choked noise escaping you.

It was the brush of lips against yours and the pinch of the needle in your arm that made you freeze, forgetting to cry out. The medic's lips moving and making you near melt for a second. It was blissful. Until he pulled away, leaving you panting and red faced.

"You drive me absolutely crazy, Liebling." He murmured before clearing his throat. "You may want to look away for a bit or look und watch. Watch what I'll do to you."

You quietly looked as he finished numbing the small area and grabbed a small scalpel-like device. Opening the skin as his hands gripped you where you could not feel. It was… Nauseating. You knew you shouldn't have watched. There was no reason you should do this to this to yourself and the way it looked was odd. It was like you had began disassociating. No pain made you relax as you watched with tiny, salty tears running down your cheeks.

Soon it was over though, you must have passed out when you saw the amount of blood flowing. You had never done this before. The numbness was still there in your arm, but two stitches now decorated it. There wasn't much you could do, aside from torturing yourself further by ripping open the stitches. You weren't sure about your willpower to do that though as you looked to see your captor sitting near you as he was reading something.

Your throat was dry as you looked at Ludwig, knowing he probably didn't know you were awake. He seemed zoned in on it as he leaned into his hand, which held his jaw.

"Ludwig?" You murmured with a bit of hesitation and those blue eyes were on you. The same intense eyes that always saw through you. Saw through everything, every facade, layer of skin and sinew, into your very soul it seemed. It was odd and disturbing.

"Oh, Liebling, you're awake. How are you feeling?" He moved closer as his hand touches your face. No longer gloved. It was warm and firm, real. This was real.

"I just, I want to go home." You whispered, teary eyed as he rubbed your cheek.

"You are home, darling." His lips were in yours again and locked into something more passionate than you had expected. The way he was now pressed up against you was suffocating and you were dragged directly into this kiss. It was… Sinfully delicious. You did like Ludwig, you did have something there twisting inside you. It was your battling mind that whispered how much better it could be if you were just… Malleable to his wishes, willing and wanting.

Dragging his hands through your hair as you were taken into a kiss of teeth, lips, spit and need before you bite him. His lip bleeding before he did the same, blood mixing with yours. It was messy and drove you to become a panting wreck.

You didn't want to be here. None of this was normal, but you weren't sure how you would be considered normal either. This was safety to you. Hate filled kissing, despising in silence. Your mother did it and who said you would wind up any different. There was no saving anyone here. Your legs were adjusted and spread.

Bodies pressed against one another as you panted, his hands pulling your hair and making noises babble out of your mouth. It was the air that passed slowly over your privates before Ludwig was in between your legs as you feel the growing excitement between the two of you.

His hand ripped away the gown as it exposed your naked body, hands moving to your chest as he carefully began to touch you. You were eager to respond to those touches as he moved his mouth away from yours. Your lips ached, probably bruised and bleeding as his own latched onto your nipple. The other was toyed with as you reeled. "Please, please, please, Ludwig."

You feel his finger dance between your thighs, rubbing them before sliding them against your lips. He groaned before slipping in a finger, thicker than yours and the sensation of it curling made you twitch. More, you needed more.

"Liebling, tell me. Do you feel just how much you want me or are you just trying to ignore it? Your body is honest, betraying you completely. How does it feel? Knowing you're squeezing and lubricating yourself up just for me?" He was rubbing your clit as he continued to add fingers. Three were in as you began to buck your hips and moan.

"Such a slut, if I had known how you wanted me. I would have done this long ago. Everyone has needs und I would have gladly taken care of yours. Go on, beg for it. You've been so good so far, I want to hear it."

Your face was flushed as the way his words struck more in you than you thought they would. It was not enough. "A-ah, Ludwig, please, I just, I want you. I don't care, I want you right now!" You gasped and writhed beneath him, whining when he pulled his hand out of you. Emptiness was so overwhelming as he wiped his hand on your thighs, spreading them wider.

You craned your neck to look down, but were shoved back. His hand gripping the side of your head to keep you down, his other rubbing the something blunt and firm against your labia. It was nudging your clit and making your whimpers come out again. "Ludwig, please."

He pushed in, making you groan along with him. Quiet grunts sounded above you as he spoke in low, harsh german. It was… You loved it. Adjustment was small, but he didn't seem to mind your slight discomfort as he only could feel bliss at the tight, hot grip your walls provided. Soon he was rutting into you and his hands held underneath your knees, pushing your thighs against your torso. You couldn't move yourself with him overwhelming you and the restraints still on your upper body. You wish you could wrap your legs around him though as your dragged your nails down his back. Draw blood and make him scream along with you.

Battering your walls, his teeth and lips met you shoulders and neck. Digging in and sucking hard. Covering you in marks of ownership, making you cry as he drove you insane. He was cursing and whispering in a low, nasty tone. You could find him slipping into English again though. "Mine, you're going to be mine forever, Liebling. Mmm.."

He was panting above you as he continued to do more shallow thrusts, just enough to drive you close to your edge as you cried out below him. "Cum on my cock, do it. I want to feel how you can't take it anymore. Go on, Liebling. Go ahead."

He hissed as you did cum, your own moans spilling out, "Ludwig, Ludwig, a-ah, oh my god. That, ah, you- Fucking hell! Pleasssee…" You panted and grunted as Ludwig's voice lowered into your ear.

"I'm so close, I'm going to make you my own. I won't ever let anyone take you away. My most valued possession, my sweet liebling. A-ah hng…" He let out little pants as he got closer, his face twisting as he pulled out and moved his hand along himself. His body tensing as hot ropes of cum painted your stomach as you panted and laid with satisfied exhaustion fading away. Horror filling you as Ludwig loomed over you, wiping your stomach off and undoing your restraints.

"(Y/N), I'll need to clean zhe bites on your neck und after a rest. We'll get you to a bathroom, but for now. If only you knew how beautiful you look. Oh, my sweet liebling."

#yandere tf2 #tw dubcon #tw abuse #tw blood #medical kink #tf2 #tf2 medic #medic x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #commission #my writing

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dontenchantme · 4 years ago

Text

garden of eden - part one

Rated E, Satan x MC - eventual smut and mature themes.

[no rad au] he was the serpent who had lured her out of paradise. she ought to hate him, but she didn't.

fics masterlist

It had been a long day at work, and she was exhausted.

Her boss had dumped a new project on her today. With very little context and a teammate notorious for delivering haphazard work, she had no idea how she was going to meet the two-week deadline, and honestly, she was stressing out.

It didn’t help that HR sent an email about their performance bonuses, and despite the long hours and the hard work she put in the past year, her bonus was laughable. Meanwhile, the aforementioned teammate got a promotion and a pay raise even though he hadn’t done anything of importance. He didn’t even lead a project!

She was pretty sure it was because he was fucking around with their boss’ superior. Men sucked. The company sucked. She should just resign from her damn job.

Her head was pounding as she leant against the wall, waiting for the lift to reach her floor. She hoped her boyfriend had remembered to heat last night’s leftovers. If he couldn’t even get that right, she might have a meltdown.

There was a ding and the doors slid open. She stepped out of the lift, reaching up to knead her shoulder – she could feel the tension underneath her fingers, and she thought it might be a good idea to schedule a massage. She’d have to take a look at her budget for this month. There was a really good place down the street…

Her thoughts trailed away when she noticed an unfamiliar pair of heels outside her apartment. Immediately suspicious, she took out her phone and checked her texts – nothing from her friends, nothing from her boyfriend either. But…maybe she was wrong? Maybe she was overthinking? Her heart thudded in her chest as she took out her key, slowly unlocking the front door. Luckily, she had just oiled the hinges, and the door opened without a sound.

The first thing she heard when she stepped inside the apartment was the sound of a woman moaning, and she froze on the threshold, unable to move, unable to think. She could barely even breathe. A second later, the moan became a breathless cry, and then she heard the woman call her boyfriend’s name.

Suddenly seized by blinding, overwhelming rage, she stormed in the direction of the master bedroom, where she shared a bed with her good-for-nothing boyfriend and threw open the door to see him pounding into a woman wearing her favourite silk robe. Both of them turned to look at her, their eyes wide.

She didn’t say a word. She just reached for the nearest object, which happened to be a hairbrush, and threw it at her boyfriend. He yelped, jumping away from the bed, just barely missing the brush. She took her bag off her shoulder and began swinging it wildly, trying her best to hit him while the woman screamed and crawled back against the pillows, attempting to cover herself with the blanket.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted, scrambling away from her as she aimed the bag at his head. She saw his limp dick flopping around and she would very much like to cut it off, but luckily for him, there was nothing sharp in the vicinity. “You’re fucking insane!”

“You were the one cheating on me with her!” she screamed, opening her bag and throwing the items inside at him – he narrowly dodged a black binder and a tube of lip balm. “You’re a useless piece of shit, you can’t even hold down a job and now you decide to go around sticking your dick in whatever hole you can find? I should just kill you!”

“Oi! Murder is illegal!” he yelled back, but she was beyond reasoning at this point – she couldn’t even direct her anger at the other woman, she was so sick and tired of giving all the time and never getting anything in return. This was the last straw.

“I am going to kill you.” She shot the woman a look. “Take that off and get the fuck out of here.” The woman hastily disrobed and gathered up her clothes, running out of the room – when her boyfriend tried to slip past her while she was distracted, she reached out and grabbed his wrist, filled with a sudden strength she didn’t even know she possessed. “Who said you’re allowed to leave?” she snapped.

“Babe, it was a mistake, I swear it didn’t even mean anything.” He tried to explain, but she was in no mood for his excuses today. It had been a shitty, tiring day and all she wanted after work was a nice warm meal and maybe some time to unwind and catch up with her favourite shows. But of course, this day had to get even worse.

“You thought I was coming home late tonight and decided to fuck someone else in our bed,” she said, her fingers tightening around him. He tried to pull away, but she was so angry that she didn’t even notice him struggling. “You know, I heard when cats and dogs get neutered, they lose their sex drive. Maybe I should neuter you too.”

“H-hey, don’t get any funny ideas. I’m sorry, okay? I know I fucked up!” He sounded panicky, but she just smiled, marching out of the room with him in tow. The woman was already gone from the living room – thankfully for her because she didn’t know what she might have done if she was still around. “Oi! Stop! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She stopped and turned to stare at him. “So, our relationship is a joke, then?” she asked, keeping her voice as cool and neutral as possible. The rage still boiled within her, and it took everything she had to not lunge forward and wrap her hands around his scrawny throat. Asshole. “The allowance I give you, the meals I cook for you, the time I try to spend with you even though you know how busy I am – all this is a joke?”

“No, I appreciate you, babe, I do. But you’re taking things way too seriously,” he babbled, seemingly convinced that he could talk his way out of this. “You know what it’s like being an artist! You need to get inspiration from all kinds of sources!”

“Oh, right! Inspiration! From cheating on your loyal girlfriend of eight years!”

She tried to drag him to the kitchen where all the knives were so she could make good on her promise to neuter him, but he latched onto the couch and refused to budge, so in the end, they just ended up screaming at each other and she told him to get the hell out of the apartment and never come back.

He grabbed a towel hanging off the back of a chair and wrapped it around his waist, running out without a second glance. She glared at his back and slammed the door, then leant against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose. What a shitty day. Now that he was gone, the anger felt so…hollow.

She was still angry. Not just at him, but at herself for being so trusting. For giving in all the time. Her friends told her that he was an asshole, and she always defended him because…well, they’d been together since high school and it just felt like the right thing to do. She loved him, and he loved her. Or at least she thought he did.

If she had to be honest, she knew their relationship was a complete mess. Ever since he graduated from college, he kept telling her that he would find his big break, that his art would be displayed in museums all over the world someday. But all she saw him do was laze around at home; once in a while he’d work on some project that he would then abandon in the living room. His only saving grace was that he did help with the rent, though usually, his contributions didn’t make up even a third of the amount they needed.

But it was so much easier to just stay in a lousy relationship than to be single. It was nice to come home to someone, and anyway, she never had the time to put up an ad for another roommate. Not that she had a choice now, anyway. There was no way she could afford to pay the rent on her own.

Opening her eyes, she walked to the kitchen, deciding to heat the leftovers from last night’s dinner. She was pretty sure that asshole didn’t listen to her request this morning, but whatever. She was used to men letting her down anyway.

But before she stepped into the kitchen, she heard the sound of glass breaking and she froze – was there someone inside? Did that woman not leave the apartment? She just wanted to have a meal and some alone time. It wasn’t a complicated wish, so why did life keep testing her? She was about this close to snapping.

“If you’re still here, I recommend you get the fuck out –” Her tongue stopped working when she entered the kitchen and saw, instead of the asshole’s side chick or whatever the hell she was, a blond man with bright green eyes that almost glowed. He was leaning against the countertop, watching her expectantly, almost as though he knew she would come into the kitchen. As though he was waiting for her.

“Who are you?” Her mouth felt disconnected from her brain. Her mind was going at a million miles per hour – should I call the police? How did he get in here? Is he the asshole’s friend? No, I don’t think I’ve seen him before. Is he a robber? I don’t even own anything of value. Then one final thought – he’s too beautiful to be human.

The stranger tilted his head, smiling at her – it was a warm, pleasant smile, but there was something off about it, and she felt a shiver run down her back. He took a step away from the counter, and suddenly everything within her was screaming at her to get out, to get away from him, but she was rooted to the spot. He approached her with all the feline grace of a big cat cornering its prey, and unbidden thoughts of her family sprang to mind. She wondered if she would ever get to see them again.

He was dangerous. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked, shaking his head a little. “You were the one who summoned me, though. With that delicious rage of yours. It would be so very, very nice,” he whispered, “if you could take this knife and just run it through him, wouldn’t it?” The man held out a hand and she watched, amazed as an ornate dagger materialised on his palm, its hilt encrusted with sparkling jewels.

“It’s a cursed dagger,” he explained, noticing her interest. “It grants one true death by disintegrating both the body and the soul, thus ensuring its victims cannot go to either Heaven or Hell. It’s the loneliest, most cruel of punishments. But he deserves it, doesn’t he?” His voice softened into a croon, almost melodious. “You were far too good for him. He didn’t understand what he had, couldn’t appreciate the effort you put into supporting him and his career. Instead, the moment your back was turned, he found another woman and took her in your bed. The shame.”

He had an enchanting voice. So mesmerising, just like him. His green eyes glittered, and her feet moved of their own accord, bringing her closer to the beautiful man – her hand reached for the dagger, its sharp blade singing to her. “The shame,” she echoed, the rage and resentment she had bottled up for so long bubbling within her. “He deserves it. He does. After everything I’ve done for him.”

She didn’t know if she was agreeing with the man or if she was trying to convince herself. The man looked at her steadily, silently daring her to take the blade from his palm. She hesitated over the hilt, her fingers trembling. It was a stunning thing, deadly but gorgeous. Much like its owner, who held it out to her with a placid smile on his face. It would be ridiculously simple to just reach out and grab it. But she was shaking.

“What do you want in return?” she asked. It was too strange, too good to be true. He was too perfect, and she reminded herself that men couldn’t be trusted.

He chuckled. “You’re perceptive, aren’t you?” Then he paused. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. But you know perfectly well who I am. You’ve simply forgotten.”

He sounded so disappointed. She shouldn’t feel guilty – she truly had never seen this man before – but for some reason, she felt terrible about not recognising him. “Just close your eyes and think,” he whispered, stepping so close that he filled up her vision – she tipped her head back and stared at him, her breath frozen in her lungs. “If you pray hard enough, the answer might come back to you.”

If she prayed. Was he an angel? No, probably not – he looked like one, but there was a distinct aura of danger around him, one that didn’t seem angelic at all. Yet she felt compelled to listen to him, and she closed her eyes, wondering what to pray for. His distinctive scent wafted around her. Smoky, like burning wood, but there was something sensual too, a musky kind of smell that made her toes curl. Something stirred within her, something mysterious and foreign and exciting.

She felt slender fingers rest gently on her cheek. “That’s right. You’re an obedient girl, aren’t you?” he murmured. She could feel his cool breath against her ear, and she shivered, a sigh escaping her lips. “Your soul recognises me. Tell me, what is my name?”

“Satan.” A demon’s name. But saying it didn’t feel wrong at all. As his name left her mouth, she felt something lurch within her and she gasped. Her body felt like it was on fire – her eyes flew open and she reached forward, curling her fingers in his shirt. He watched her, amusement dancing in his piercing green eyes, and he didn’t resist in the slightest when she pulled his face down, forcing her lips against his.

She had to tiptoe and crane her neck just to reach him, but in return, his kiss was brutally punishing – his hand seized the back of her head and she moaned when he leant into her, his fingers pulling at her hair, forcing her to keep her head tilted. He was rough, alternating between deep, bruising kisses and actual biting, but there was something so freeing, so satisfying about how angry the kiss was. How it was nothing like the languid kisses she usually exchanged with her jerk of a boyfriend.

He brought her to life, and she could feel the rage that had been simmering all this time within her exploding, her fingers scrabbling underneath his shirt, her nails raking his back. He hissed and stopped pulling on her hair, and she was mildly disappointed for a moment, but the next thing she knew his fingers were wrapped around her throat and she was choking and struggling, her eyes rolling back in her head.

She couldn’t breathe, she was delirious, and maybe he might kill her, but she felt so alive. “Fuck you,” she managed to spit out, and she heard him laugh before he let go of her and she stepped back from him, wheezing. Her lips felt tender, and she could feel the imprint of his hand around her neck. But there was something within her that was drawn to him, something that told her to go back, to provoke him, to see how far he’d let her go next time. What would he look like when he was angry?

“You’re delightful.” His eyes gleamed, and she thought about how gorgeous they were, reflecting the fluorescent kitchen light. “Of all the sins you could have fallen into, you chose mine…I’m sure you’ll be a very entertaining human.”

He carefully placed the dagger on the counter – her gaze flitted to it, then back to him, waiting for him to say something. “Treat this as a favour, human. In exchange for that little kiss. You can think about whether or not you’d like to act on your urges – if you turn away, you still have a chance to save your soul. If not…” He shrugged, leaving the words unspoken. She understood what he meant.

“Why are you warning me?” she demanded. Her voice sounded choked still, almost breathless, and her fingers fluttered up to her throat. “Don’t you want to tempt me to sin? You’re a demon.” And demons tortured the souls of sinners in Hell.

Satan laughed. “You amuse me. No other reason. But if you would rather keep your precious soul safe…” He reached for the dagger, and she immediately lunged for it, wrapping her fingers around the hilt. It was strangely warm, and the jewels seemed to pulsate with a mysterious energy. He met her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“No. I’ll keep it. Just in case. I need time to think about it.” She couldn’t let go of the soft, tempting whispers he baited her with, the promise that she could kill the ones who betrayed her, that she could give them a fate crueller than death itself – he had provided her with an extremely powerful weapon and she’d be an idiot to give it up just like that. “How long do I have to consider?” she asked.

“Take as long as you’d like.” Satan shrugged. “I’m in no hurry. And neither are you, I suspect.” He looked her square in the eyes and smiled – she shivered. She could sense the danger that lurked behind that genial expression. “But it’d be best not to wait for too long. Wrath is impatient, you see. Once you let those embers of rage fade away, the blade you hold now will be rendered useless. Keep that in mind.”

“Thank you for the advice.” She paused, and the man waited, as though he knew she wasn’t done speaking to him. She chewed her lip, then finally decided to raise the question on her mind. “What if I want to see you again?”

“That’s simple. Just get angry.” He reached for her, tilting her chin with one finger, and she shivered at his touch. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath, and I hide deep within the shadows of hatred. I appear to those consumed by their rage, to those who believed one time too many in unfulfilled promises. Call my name and perhaps I’ll come to you.”

He leant down and brushed his lips against hers, a brief kiss far gentler than the one that came before. Her eyes widened, and he pulled back – he whispered her name in a voice like honey and sin and at the very next moment, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the smell of flames and the memory of his fingers on her skin.

Oh, and also the dagger. She glanced at the bejewelled blade, wondering what to do with it. The jewels twinkled under the kitchen light, and she studied the polished metal – it was pitch-black, and it seemed to shimmer as she moved it around.

Maybe this was a dream. After a long day filled with bad news, she finally snapped and dreamt up this entire scenario featuring a weirdly hot demon with a voice that made her want to sin, and eyes that seemed to draw out her very soul…yeah, she had to be dreaming. Weren’t demons supposed to be ugly creatures with wings and tails and pitchforks? He looked like a regular human. Albeit a really hot one.

The dagger felt uncomfortably solid, though. Carefully grasping the hilt, she took it out of the kitchen, heading back to her bedroom. She placed the dagger in one of her drawers and kept it away. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe it’d be gone when she woke up. Her stomach growled then, and she winced. Right. She had forgotten about the leftovers.

She prepared to leave the room, but she walked past the dresser on her way out and she couldn’t help but pause. She glanced into the mirror, wanting to reassure herself that everything was fine, that nothing had changed. But then she blinked and stared at her reflection.

Her reflection looked back at her, and she slowly reached for it, tracing the purplish marks that blossomed across her neck. They were shaped just like fingerprints.

#satan obey me #satan x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

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thirteen-beaxhes · 6 years ago

Text

‘Everything is Red” - Chapter 1: Oceanside Motel

Summary:

“Cyrus Goodman and TJ Kippen weren’t desperate by any means, they just happened to find comfort in old, run-down motels where people wouldn’t dare come looking for them. There was no particular reason for this - or so they would tell you. Faded motels just had a certain charm about them, Cyrus would say with one of his naturally bright smiles.”

The fall of 2006 finds TJ and Cyrus on the run from the law, seeking the highs associated with risk wherever they can and maybe even learning a thing or two about love and the inevitability of fate.

Warnings for this chapter:

~Depictions of violence, death and crime (not graphic)

~Gun usage

ALL LINKS ( AO3+PROLOGUE) IN THE REBLOG

~~~~~~

As the night drew on slowly, the dark blue sky gradually fading into a pitch black, Cyrus tried his best to focus his attention on the stars, taking solace in their beauty. It's something he had always done when he felt overwhelmed, and that moment was no different. He looked out of the small car window, counting the stars, as if that would ease his state of mind. He had opened the window, the cold night wind against his face both comforting and centring him. If he kept his eyes focused on the sky outside, he could make himself forget everything that had just happened. God knew he needed it at that moment.

“Cyrus, babe. Are you awake?” TJ asked, taking the opportunity of an empty road ahead to look at the other man.

Cyrus gave no indication of having heard him, keeping his arms crossed and eyes trained outside. He shut his eyes forcibly, attempting to block out TJ’s voice. He was the one person Cyrus did not want to interact with at the moment.

TJ saw Cyrus’ reaction and sighed, running his hand through his hair in exhaustion. He turned back towards the road with a sigh. With one hand on the steering wheel, he pulled out the bag of chips they had got from the vending machine at Palace Motel and held it out to Cyrus.

“Come on, at least eat something.”

Still silence. TJ took a deep breath, trying to keep a cool head and said, “Please just take it. I have another packet for myself. We should be reaching in another hour or two, okay?”

Without saying a word, Cyrus reached over and took the chip packet, cringing a bit at the noise it made on opening. With all the panic and adrenaline, he hadn't realised how hungry he actually was. That is, until, the saltiness of the chips melting in his mouth made him have to hold back a sigh of happiness. While he was still absolutely furious with TJ, he appreciated the thought.

TJ just looked at Cyrus, his heart twisting a bit, knowing that he had really screwed up. Cyrus really was mad at him - for very good reason. Back in the motel, TJ hadn't thought about what he was doing until he had done it, until the body had hit the floor. But he steadied his breathing and tried to focus on the road ahead, reassuring himself that he had to do it. He was just protecting them. He didn't have much of a choice. And Cyrus knew that.

He did, right?

For its promising name, you would expect Oceanside Motel to have a view of the sea, maybe even access to a beach. At the very least, you’d expect it to actually be beside an ocean. However, the motel to which TJ and Cyrus arrived was far from that image. The waterbody next to the motel was more like a dirty pond with stagnant, dead water. Any life form would have quit it in days. But it would have to do. It was just a temporary stop, a refuge for the night. It would be just another place the next morning.

“What’s our story this time? College students doing a road trip? Backpacking friends? A travelling couple?” asked TJ as the car pulled to a stop before the motel.

“Surprise me. It’s something you’re good at,” Cyrus muttered angrily, not even trying to conceal his feelings.

As Cyrus pulled out one of their many IDs from the bag, TJ grabbed his arm, forcing Cyrus to look at him properly for the first time since they shook off the cops.

“We’re gonna have to act as if we can actually stand each other. Do you think you can do that?” TJ asked, his voice gentle, but hints of annoyance were starting to show.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Cyrus said flashing a fake smile at TJ as he pulled his arm away. “I’m a great actor.” With that, Cyrus got out of the car, leaving behind TJ who took a deep breath, resting his head on the back of the car seat in growing frustration. He ran his hand through his hair in an effort to compose himself, before opening the car door and catching up with Cyrus, putting his arm around his shoulder.

They walked up to the main desk, where a middle-aged woman smiled warmly at them and checked them in. All the while they spoke, TJ had his arm around Cyrus’ shoulders, just smiling as Cyrus did all the talking.

“What brings you lovely men to Oceanside Motel so late in the night?” she asked with no suspicion in her voice, just natural curiosity.

“Oh, it’s a funny story, actually. We were supposed to travel further, but someone here decided that burgers and fries would be a good idea to spend 2 hours on,” Cyrus said with a laugh, bumping TJ in the chest.

The woman laughed along, turning back to reach for the keys to their room. “Well, I do hope you enjoy your stay here. It isn’t much, but I try my best.”

“Well, with someone as amazing as you, I’m sure we’re in good hands,” Cyrus said, winking at the woman as he took the keys from her.

“Thank you,” Cyrus and TJ said as they left the blushing woman to head to their room, their smiles and happy demeanour fading to exhaustion and frustration with each step.

They opened the door to their room, Cyrus dumping his bag on the counter as he collapsed onto the chair near the television. TJ sat on the bed, staring at Cyrus, expecting him to say something. But Cyrus had no intentions of initiating a conversation.

Eventually, he groaned and, head in his hands, TJ said, “Cyrus. You can't do this forever.”

“What are you talking about?” Cyrus replied, his voice curt.

“What is it? Why are you acting like this?”

“Oh, really? Like you don't know why I'm angry right now.”

TJ sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know what I did was rash and impulsive.”

“We could have gotten away without having to kill him!”

“How do you know that?” TJ said while standing up, his voice growing louder and louder. “He saw us, yeah? What if he described us to the cops?”

“Well, they very nearly got us anyway,” Cyrus said, his voice growing in volume too. He, too, got up and starting moving towards TJ.

“I had to do it. You know I had to.”

“No, you didn't. But of course, you did it anyway, because you’re impulsive and you don't think anything through. In fact, if you ever did, I’m pretty sure it’d kill you.”

“I did it for us, okay? Do you think I wanted to kill him? But I had to do it. I was protecting us!” TJ yelled back, turning away from Cyrus, hand on his forehead.

Cyrus scoffed at that, taking another step towards TJ. “Protecting us?”

TJ’s head lifted, turning to Cyrus, shocked into silence by Cyrus’ tone. Cyrus took another step towards him, his voice quiet, his eyes narrowed.

“Like you did when we were 17?”

6 years ago

“Honestly, at this point, you should get a medal for somehow managing to sneak out of the house every night,” Cyrus whispered, laughing quietly as TJ jumped out of his window to the ground.

“Well, years of practice manage to make it easier,” TJ whispered back, jogging up to Cyrus and pulling him in for a quick kiss. With only streetlights illuminating their surroundings, Cyrus’ face was lit by a soft glow, his smile warming TJ’s heart. A very welcome warmth that TJ could very much use more of.

“Shall we?” TJ asked, holding out his elbow to Cyrus.

“We shall,” Cyrus replied, grabbing onto it, leaning in first to give TJ a kiss on the cheek.

As they walked down the silent streets, the cold night air on their faces felt like a comfort, a reprieve from their lives. Their hands were entwined as they talked about nothing in particular. After a while, Cyrus looked up at TJ, curious.

“How’s Amber doing? Heard she was having a rough time after the thing with her and Andi,” Cyrus asked, stopping.

“She’s holding up as well as you’d expect,” TJ replied, looking down as he spoke. He could still hear Amber’s quiet, muffled sobs as he had crawled out of the window to meet Cyrus. He had even gone to her room to check on her, saying he could tell Cyrus to come the next day, but Amber wouldn’t have any of it.

“Go out there and meet your boyfriend, you idiot,” Amber had whispered in a broken voice. “Besides, I should probably get it together and sleep. Wouldn’t want dad hearing me now, would I?” she said with a hollow laugh and a quiet sniffle as she pushed TJ out of her room.

“Shit,” Cyrus whispered. “That sucks.”

“Yeah,” TJ said with a sigh. “How’s Andi?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t let me or Buffy in. Pretty sure she’s crafting herself to death.”

“God.”

“Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a while, the conversation having hit a low. Cyrus looked ahead, spotting a 7/11 ahead of them. He grabbed TJ’s hand tighter, his face breaking out in a big smile as he pulled him forward.

“Cy, baby,” TJ said, laughing at his sudden enthusiasm. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” Cyrus whined, looking back at TJ as he dragged him along. “I’m in the mood for slushies.”

“And where do you have the money for it?”

Cyrus just reached into his pocket pulling out a wallet, a smirk on his face. TJ’s face, however, fell as concern came over his eyes.

“Cyrus, where did you..?”

“I’ve been saving up,” Cyrus cut in, reassuring TJ. “And maybe, I did take some from my mum.”

“Cyrus!”

“What? It isn’t so much that she’d notice,” Cyrus defended. “Not that she notices anything I do,” he added in a low mutter, almost inaudible to TJ.

TJ rolled his eyes, still unconvinced. Cyrus sighed, wrapping his arms around TJ’s neck.

“Come on. Let’s just not think about our shitty home lives and let me just enjoy a slushy and some time with my boyfriend,” he said, leaning in to give TJ a quick peck on the lips.

TJ eventually smiled, leaning in for another kiss, before grabbing Cyrus’ hand and walking into the 7/11.

10 minutes later, armed with two slushies, Cyrus and TJ walked out of the store, laughing as they continued down the street, away from the busier part of their neighbourhood. As they strolled down the street, TJ pulled Cyrus back by the hand, pulling him in for a kiss under the streetlights. Cyrus smiled into it, sighing contentedly as he wrapped his arms around TJ’s neck. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

“Well, well, well. Isn’t this touching?”

The voice cut through the dimly lit street, causing the two to pull away from each other. Cyrus felt his heart drop into a pit in his stomach, extremely familiar with the voice that had just spoken. TJ looked at Cyrus in concern, turning to face the direction where the voice had come from.

“Who’s there? Who is it?” TJ asked, stepping forward.

“Ouch, Cyrus. Not even a mention? I’m hurt. Especially after everything we’d been through,” the voice said, coming closer. A boy roughly TJ’s height walked into the light. He had dark hair and brown eyes, a smirk on his face. And in his hand was a pistol.

“What do you want, Lester?” Cyrus said, trying to seem strong, but his voice was shaky and small. He kept his eyesight down, desperately trying to avoid looking the other boy in the eyes.

“Oh, nothing,” Lester said, walking closer to the pair, twirling the pistol in his hand. TJ looked down at Cyrus, shocked to see him so tense and almost frightened. He reached out to hold Cyrus’ hand, but Cyrus pushed it away, stepping behind TJ. TJ was all the more concerned, but now, looking back and forth between Cyrus’ terrified eyes and Lester’s sly and cunning smirk, he felt something else.

Rage. Burning rage.

“What do you want with us?” TJ asked, his voice tight as he tried to control his boiling anger, trying to keep a calm appearance for Cyrus’ sake.

Lester laughed mockingly, the sound grating against TJ’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. He tried to keep his breathing even, stepping in front of Cyrus towards Lester.

“I just wanted to see Cyrus,” Lester said, his eyes gleaming. “Is that so wrong?” he asked, pouting.

“What if I don’t want to see you?” Cyrus asked, his voice still shaky as he looked up at Lester for the first time, immediately regretting that decision when he saw the satisfied look on his face.

“Now, you know that isn’t true Cy,” Lester said, laughing. “Cuz if it was, you two would have walked away from me by now.”

Cyrus scoffed weakly. Making a decision, he grabbed TJ’s hand and said, “You’re right. That’s what we’re gonna do. Come on, TJ,” he said, pulling TJ in the opposite direction.

However, as soon as they turned to walk away, they heard the unmistakable cocking of a gun and froze. Slowly, TJ turned around, followed by Cyrus to see that Lester was holding up the pistol. And his aim was straight at TJ’s head.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Lester sneered, his grip tightening on the trigger.

TJ was shocked into immobility, staring right into the barrel. Cyrus, however, was outraged.

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Lester? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh Cyrus,” Lester laughed bitterly. “I’ve missed you. You know, when we were together, I did nothing but love you. And you just left me like trash.”

“Whatever it was, that wasn’t love,” Cyrus said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You were horrible to me.”

Lester sighed, pointing forward with the pistol. “You know, that was always your problem. Seeing the worst in everything I did. I was the bad guy. When all I wanted was for you to be mine, what was best for you. But you left me, after everything I did for you. And all for him,” Lester said, so close he pushed the barrel of the gun into TJ’s forehead. Cyrus held his breath, trying to be brave, but his heart was beating erratically at the uncertainty of the situation.

Lester laughed at Cyrus’ terrified expression. “Can’t believe you’re still so weak. Oh well, this ought to toughen you up,” he said, holding the gun up to TJ’s head much to Cyrus’ dismay. Lester took one last look at Cyrus.

“Cuz you see, Cyrus? I’m the only person who can ever truly get into your head.”

That sentence hit Cyrus hard as tears stood still in his eyes. Because it was true. Even after all those months, after everything that had happened, Lester still had Cyrus’ mind and heart in his hand, controlling it as he saw fit, still making Cyrus doubt everything. So he just closed his eyes, flinching away from the inevitable as he heard the ‘click’ of the gun. He was prepared for what was going to happen, for Lester to scare them and walk away, leaving their relationship in pieces around him.

But he could never have predicted what actually happened.

It all felt like a blur, but it also felt like time had come to a standstill. All Cyrus knew was that one second, Lester had his gun to TJ’s head, his mocking laugh echoing in Cyrus’ ears, and the next, there was a gunshot and he was on the ground, motionless. And TJ stood over him, gun in his hand, his finger still on the trigger.

Cyrus’ eyes went wide as his heart rate accelerated, his breathing growing shallow. Cyrus’ hand went involuntarily to his throat, his surroundings growing exceedingly dull. He stepped back a few steps, stumbling over his own feet, as he desperately tried to tear his eyes away. But he couldn’t.

“What did you do?” Cyrus wanted to scream, but the words were stuck in his throat and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t produce a sound.

TJ’s breathing was growing heavy, still clutching the gun in his hand as he looked around, trying to see if anyone had seen them. Luckily, the streets seemed deserted, and in their neighbourhood, gunshot noises were as common as crickets chirping. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wild. Finally, he turned around to look at Cyrus, and Cyrus, still in shock, looked back at him.

“Cyrus,” TJ whispered, his voice shaky and anxious. “Cyrus, we have to do something. We can’t leave him here,” he said, gesturing down, his mannerisms conveying desperation.

“No, no,” Cyrus whispered, moving away from TJ, shaking his head. The world seemed to sway and tilt around him, his feet unsteady.

“Cyrus,” TJ said, grabbing Cyrus’ shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “I know you’re scared and in shock. I am too, believe me. But we can’t stay here. If they find us,” TJ started, his voice cracking, as he brought up a hand to wipe his mouth, fear evident in his eyes.

Cyrus gulped, his mouth dry, as he tried to get his thoughts to just stop. He looked at Lester’s body for the first time, and suddenly, it was as if he was on autopilot. He took the gun from TJ’s hand, wiping it of prints with his shirt, and dumped it in a dumpster in the nearby alleyway.

“Cyrus, what are you-” TJ started to ask confused, but Cyrus interrupted him.

“Help me carry him into the alley,” he said, his voice monotone, as if it wasn’t really him talking. TJ just looked at him and complied. The two of them carried Lester and placed him in the alley, hoping that when someone did find him, they would assume gang violence. A plausible enough situation for Lester, Cyrus thought bitterly. All the while as they cleaned up any evidence of them being there, Cyrus felt as if it wasn’t him doing all those things. It was as if he was above everything, watching himself clean up the slushy cups and remove fingerprints. He didn’t remember walking back to his house with TJ, the silence between them tense. He didn’t remember hugging TJ as tight as he could before he quietly crept into his house so as to not wake and anger his mother. He didn’t remember any of it and hoped that it meant that maybe, just maybe, it was all just a bad dream.

The only remnants of TJ and Cyrus on that street were the spilt liquid from their Blue Raspberry slushies, now tinged purple.

TJ was stunned into silence, taken aback at Cyrus’ words. The look of hurt on his face as the memories of 6 years ago came flooding back almost made Cyrus feel bad about bringing it up. Almost.

“I had no other choice. I was protecting us,” TJ said, his voice tense and low. His hands were balled into fists as he looked at Cyrus.

“And look where we are now,” Cyrus said, gesturing to their surroundings.

“He was an asshole, not just at that time. Even before that. He hurt you, Cy,” TJ said, his words tremulous.

“You don’t think I know that, better than anyone?” Cyrus said, stepping towards TJ. “But that doesn’t mean he deserved to die!” he said, dangerously close to yelling.

TJ looked out the window in alarm, before turning back towards Cyrus. “He was ready to shoot us that night!”

“He wouldn’t have done anything. It was just to scare us.”

“You don’t know that, do you?”

Cyrus tried to say something back, but he couldn’t find the words. Because the truth was, a part of Cyrus knew that it was very possible Lester would have hurt them that night. That one way or the other, all three of them wouldn’t have walked away from that street.

TJ took his silence as confirmation, “I knew it,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Cyrus turned around, his hand pressed to his forehead as he sank into the chair, a pounding headache making its presence known behind his temples.

“It still doesn’t justify what happened,” Cyrus said, barely audible.

“You don’t think I know that?” TJ asked, turning to Cyrus, now exasperated. “But what else could I have done? Just let him shoot me? Or worse, let him shoot you?”

“Well, we could have started with walking away from him!” Cyrus said, no longer in the mood to continue the argument. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, and preferably not look at or talk to TJ for the next 3 days.

“You know, sometimes,” TJ said, narrowing his eyes. “I can’t bear to be in the same room as you.”

Two can play that game, Cyrus thought to himself, looking up at TJ, his vision red. “Well, sometimes, I wish I never sneaked out of the house to meet you that night.”

TJ took a step closer, his breathing heavy, his fists balled. “Sometimes, you’re so whiny and annoying it drives me crazy,” he said, his words growing louder and louder.

“And sometimes, I can’t tell the difference between you and Lester!” Cyrus yelled.

TJ was taken aback, and he staggered backwards, his eyes wide in shock. Cyrus covered his mouth with his hand, tears in his eyes. He hadn’t meant that at all, aiming to just hurt TJ. But he had gone too far. Way too far. And now he couldn’t take it back.

Suddenly, a knock on the door made the two jump, Cyrus looking in horror at the door. Had someone heard what they had said?

TJ walked up to the door, slowly opening it. Cyrus came behind him, his heart in his throat.

“Hi. I just heard some yelling. Is everything okay?” It was the lady from the main desk, concern written all over her face. She gave no indication that she had heard anything that had just been said. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“No, no. Everything’s fine,” TJ said, resting against the doorframe. “Just regular arguments, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I understand. Lovers’ spat, eh?” the woman said, laughing awkwardly.

“Something like that,” Cyrus said, giving a stiff chuckle.

After a moment of awkward silence, the lady clapped her hands together. “Anyway, thank god everything’s okay! I’ll leave you be now,” the lady said, giving a warm smile before walking away, TJ closing the door after she left.

After the lady had gone, the room fell back into a tense silence. Cyrus couldn’t bear to look TJ in the eyes, afraid of what he would see. Instead, he just walked over to the bed, taking a blanket and pillow, and moved to the chair, all in dead silence.

“Cyrus. I-” TJ started, his voice softer than before.

“Good night, TJ,” Cyrus said, his voice just a shaky whisper as he propped up the pillow on the chair and wrapped the blanket around him, closing his eyes to try and sleep. TJ looked like he wanted to say something more, but decided against it, simply nodding and getting into bed, turning off the lamp beside him.

A few minutes later, Cyrus opened his eyes. Seeing TJ fast asleep, he reached across to his bag, pulling out his camera. In the dim light of his lamp, he took a picture of TJ, wincing a bit at the noise the camera made. But after a few moments of no reaction, Cyrus was sure that TJ was fast asleep.

“I didn’t mean it,” Cyrus whispered, hoping against hope that TJ had heard him. But he couldn’t have. He sighed, putting away the camera, and tugged the blanket around him, shutting his eyes.

All he wanted right now was some rest.

~~~~~~

Hey guys, Smriti here. Hope you guys liked this chapter! (It was hard making Lester so bad but i had to do it)

Let me and Sarah know what you think!

#andi mack #tyrus #tyrus fanfic #my fic #everything is red #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #lester #tj x cyrus #tyrus fanfiction #tyrus au #guysssss #sarah deserves all the love in the world #i will scream it from the rooftops

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crewhonk · 6 years ago

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A Sign

In which Steve takes advice from how fellow avenger, roomate and best friend Y/N rolls with the punches after a huge life changing event.

Warnings: swearing, break up, angry steve

Words: 2.1K

AN: dedicated to my best friend who’s shitty boyfriend broke up with her.

_____________

You and Steve had been friends since he had surfaced from the ice. You had met at the gym and had been transfixed by the way he seemed to be filled with so much rage— enough to destroy the gym on most days. On days he was in a better mood, he would only tear apart one or two sandbags. He was a gorgeous human— pure strength and agility and the turmoil of his mind gave him this dark and powerful vibe.

You had approached him one day— it was a bad day. One of the benches was snapped in half and another mirror looked as if it had been hit with a twenty-five-pound medicine ball. His shoulders were shaking, and his hands were in his hair, head lowered and defeated. You approached him from behind your place at the reception desk, offered him a pocky stick with a smile and a shrug and the rest was history.

You had been best friends for the following four years, getting an apartment with him in Brooklyn (which he paid for most of, much to your displeasure) and even getting a fish together. Even Sharon, who had stapled herself in Steve’s life was something you shared. You had become friends with her while she lived across the way, and the three of yours relationship developed into something that Steve never thought he would be able to have. He hadn’t been angry in a long time— no benches snapped, no mirrors broken, no bloody hands and more importantly no raging Steve.

Until July 22nd, 2018 when Steve came home, slammed the door and stormed to his room without so much as a hello in your direction. You heard several loud crashes from his room, followed by angry, heart-wrenching sobs and then silence. You knew Steve would want to be left alone— he was less of a human when he was in this situation, and you knew that if it meant neither of you got hurt in the process, you would check on him at a better time.

It was about nine later that evening when Steve shuffled out of his room, expression one of half shame, half devastation as he walked across the kitchen to where you were sitting against the breakfast bar and leaned into your shoulder. He nuzzled his way into your hair and just breathing you in— your scent was one of the most calming things to him and over the past four years, it was one of the only things that grounded him.

That was another thing about your relationship— it was an intimate one— not in the sense that you both fucked like rabbits, but in the sense that you made up for the 80 years of isolation and lack of affection. Sharon was okay with it when she was in the picture, hell, she would often take pictures of the two of you being each others person. Like Okoye and her love of Wakanda, Steve had you and Bucky as his number one priority. You and Buck were the things that came first in Steve’s life. Over America. Over Sharon. Over Captain America. Over everything. You were Steve’s Wakanda, and nothing would ever take precedent.

Maybe that was why Sharon had broken up with him. Maybe it was his undying faith in humanity even after the fall of SHIELD and the events of Ultron and the mass shootings. He was a golden retriever in a human body, and Sharon was just a person.

You turned in your seat and pulled him to nestle between your thighs and tilting your head to the side to allow him to nose your collarbone. Your hair intertwined through the long blonde hair on his head and scratched his scalp slightly.

“You okay, Cappy-Tan?” You asked. He hummed against your neck and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in.

“Why am I not good enough?” He whispered, tears leaking onto your neck and sniffling lightly. He thanked all the Gods out there that your scent was so soft and comforting because without either you or Bucky he wouldn’t be here today.

“Wait, Steve what did you just say?” You asked, straightening your posture and a bite in your voice.

“Why am I never good enough. I give, and I give, and I give and I get nothing back. I save the world, and I treat everyone like they’re royalty and I am never good enough.” He said, choking on the lump in his throat and squeezing your waist tighter. At a loss for words, you simply wrapped your legs around his thighs and pulled him closer to you.

“Steve. You are so good. You deserve someone who is going to give you the world, and it sucks that you haven’t found your person. You deserve the fucking world, Rogers.” You whispered into his neck, kissing it lightly. He let out a small whimper into your neck and you only shushed him softly, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck and swaying slightly.

“Take my mind off of it, please?” He asked, pulling back and looking down at you. You smiled, and your eyebrows pulled into an expression of sympathy at the way he looked so broken. His lower lip was moist and trembling, and his eyes were swollen and red. His hair was dull and flat and there seemed to be new wrinkles on his face that made him look worn and tired.

“Wanna go to our spot, Captain?” Your hand caressed his scruffy face and he leaned into it, kissing your palm and nodding quietly.

“I can’t be Captain, today Y/N. Please, I’m just Steve.” He whispered and you nodded, wiping a tear from his face with your thumb. Captain America was the only facade Steve could bear without showing vulnerability and with the bags under his eyes, he seemed to be tired of putting off that damn strong front.

“Okay, Steve. Let’s go.”

__________

The crack of the dusty bowling pins was almost music to Steve’s ears. As was the sound of Bucky, Sam and Natasha’s laughter joining yours as you rolled the five pinball through your legs and watched anxiously as it snapped off the bumpers and into the third one on the left. You jumped up and down when your luck gave you a spare and you playfully stuck your tongue out at Sam who cried out that you were using your powers to cheat.

“That’s not how Gravity works, Fly Boy! You’re just pissed you can’t throw a bowling ball to save your life!” You teased hip-bumping Bucky who grabbed the small ball with his flesh hand.

“No metal arm, RoboCop!” Sam shouted, sipping his beer and winking when Bucky flipped him off. Natasha handed you your fruity drink and you took a huge gulp from it, smiling over at Steve who was drinking out of a flask of Asgardian mead. Thor had given it to him when he found out what had happened with Sharon and Steve had taken with a bittersweet thank you.

While he seemed to be beaten by life, you had always taken life with a smile and a roll of the shoulders. Every breakup, and every fight, and every small misfortune had yet to break you and he truly admired your strength. He wanted to be like you one day, and as you laughed at a joke Nat yelled over the music. Your teeth glowed in the black light and the brightly colored lights danced across your gorgeous skin. It was littered with imperfections and light scars and deep scars and there was a way your rugged looks entranced him tonight. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the lights. Maybe it was the way you bopped your head to the 80’s music he hated so much. Maybe it was the half-shy smile you shot his way, and the brief ‘you good’? Towards him. Maybe he needed to start to learn from you now. He was tired of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and he just wanted to enjoy the second chance at life he had been given so many years ago.

“Hey, Bud. You good?” Bucky kicked the side of Steve’s foot and offered him one of the flasks which he took gratefully.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Steve shot him a half-fake smile and stood, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and grabbing one of the balls. It was an easy strike— they only put on the bumpers for your and Bucky’s sake. He held his arms out to his sides and turned back, jokingly walking with too much swagger in his steps and bowing low when the four of you burst into cheers. He cracked out a cute and clumsy dance in his slippery shoes and walked over to you. He sat down next to you and you clutched your beer nervously in both hands, looking down at it while he looked at you.

Your eyelashes fanned over your beautiful cheekbones and your hair was falling over your face. Your soft bottom lip was tugged between your teeth and god if he didn’t want to take a nip himself.

No, he should never think about you that way. Not now— not the day he was dumped by his long-term girlfriend. You weren’t a rebound because you were so much more than that. His hand reached over to yours and pulled it from the glass while brushing his thumb over the back of your hand.

“What’s up?” You asked, finally looking up at him and letting your eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes and back.

“Nothin’ much. Just hangin’ out with the cutest best friend around.” He joked back, flipping your hand over and tracing the lines of your palm. You resisted the urge to take your hand back and scratch the tingling feelings away because he was so close and he smelled so good and wow.

“Bucky’s over there, Gramps.” You pointed your chin in the soldier's direction, watching as Sam was teasing him relentlessly at the way he was trying so hard to figure out Instagram.

“You’re so funny, Doll.” He said after a fake laugh. You only rolled your eyes and laughed as Natasha spun around three times and chucked her ball right over the bumpers and into the gutter.

“Scary assassins drunk bowling. Never thought I’d see the day.” You mused.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Stevie?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He sucked a breath in at how utterly beautiful you looked in this moment.

“I think I’m really happy that Sharon broke up with me today.” He muttered, not looking away from your deep eyes. Your pupils dilated and a pretty peach blush spread over your cheeks, you looked down at his lips once more, and he swore that if you did that again he’d just have to kiss you.

“Why’s that?” Your voice was quiet, but Steve could swear that your voice was the loudest thing in the world at that moment.

“Because I must have been overlooking that person who has given me everything for as long as I knew them. And maybe, when I figure out how to live without Sharon I can pour all of my love into them.” He smiled down at the way your lips parted slightly. His hand pressed against the side of your neck, the weight of it grounding you as his lips pressed softly to your forehead. It sent a warmth through you and you shivered happily.

“I’m sure they’ll be waiting when you’re ready.” You kissed his chin briefly and his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Let them know that I’m more than grateful for them and their patience with a one-hundred-year-old.”

“He’s waited long enough for someone to love him more than the world itself.” You grinned at the way his eyes darted down to your neck, up to your lips and then into your eyes. “Its time the world waited for him to heal.”

“Hey, Issac Newton. Stop being all lovey with your man and bowl already!” Sam howled to you, as you blushed heavily and flipped him off. You squeezed Steve’s hand once more and shot him a smile before taking the ball and rolling it down the lane.

Strike.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers headcannon #steve rogers headcannons #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers series #steve rogers angst #dad!steve #alpha!steve

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thewitchqueen281 · 7 years ago

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Experiment 808 AU

Hey so I did actually have someone show some interest in this AU, but I’m awful at formatting so I'm just making a separate text post. Read about each character under the cut. A bit about the setting. It’s pretty distant future, this big lab in the middle of the city was commissioned to make a ton of super soldiers. Not knowing where to start they just... started kidnapping kids. Like from their cribs and everything. Not legal but they can like start from scratch there. By the time most of them are ten they’ve been tortured and beaten and do not want to be there. So they just escape. Because like what are they going to do to stop a bunch of kids with powers. They run free into the city. They stay hidden in bunkers and hideouts. They are all about 15~16 ish. I haven't decided whether or not Al is still a year younger or if they are twins so, for now, its up too you.

Anyway, enjoy these stupid teens.

Has gills on his neck and sides, and dragonfly wings.

the wings are red and while he can fly fast can’t fly for a very long time.

Instead of his traditional black tank top and coat, he wears one of those knit sleeveless turtleneck things with his red coat that ties around in the front.

Anyone with gills is bioluminescent underwater, he glows red in his face and all around his arms.

he wears a different outfit because it hides his wings and his gills.

still kind of a little shit.

knows all the other kids, is friends with most of them surprisingly.

lives with his brother, Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeyes, and Denny Brosh in an abandoned library on the west side of the city. Because they are the kids he trusts the most.

he would live with Ling, Lan Fan, and Winry. But Ling and Lan Fan don't really live anywhere and Winry travels between all the kid's hideouts making sure they didn't break anything.

Likes knives, like really really likes knives

has like twenty on him at all times.

he actually meets Ling by throwing a knife at him and getting really pissed that he missed.

Roy Mustang

Has a salamander tail, sometimes breaths a small bit of fire.

Doesn't really like people at all.

is four ten and has a lisp and you can pry this headcanon away from my cold dead hands.

frequent all-nighters, whether playing video games or trying to master fire breath.

Wears really baggy cargo pants, he likes the pockets.

has a haircut with two very long pieces of hair in the front and kinda shitty bangs.

he regrets this haircut.

he’s best friends with Riza and Ed because Riza and Ed are also wild kids who won't stop him from jumping off really high places or putting bugs in Al’s tea.

Likes lollypops, no one is sure why he just thinks they taste nice.

huge crush on Jean Havoc from the group uptown, The others make fun of him.

Riza Hawkeye

Has a cheetah tail and likes to R U N

She's a very fast girl, for a long time everyone thought that was one of the abilities given to her during her time in the lab.

it's not

she just likes to run.

despite being a wild teen is the second most sensible one in their group. Has had to drag Roy to bed, but almost everyone has had to do that once or twice.

cant cook for shit. like really. she hates cooking shes so bad at it.

everyone expects her to be the mom for some reason like they think she cooks and cleans.

shed rather die, Ed cooks, they take shifts cleaning.

loves long skirts and horror novels.

likes to think she can talk to ghosts or summon demons.

or maybe she can.

nobody really knows.

Talks to herself on occasion.

Has gills like his brother. Very small antlers as well.

glows blue underwater near his ears and around his legs. He and his brother have matching symbols on their backs.

wears a blue hoodie to cover the antlers.

The actual Mom Friend TM

Enjoys tea and not having to deal with his brother and CO’s bullshit.

for once would like to sleep in. just once.

Would be a wine mom but he is responsible and doesn't drink while underage, unlike almost all of his friends who really don't seem to give a shit.

Sassy, like, really sassy.

bad at hiding his emotions.

you will know when he thinks your being a dumbass.

*looks into the camera like he's on the office*

“Al me and the others are going to jump off the top of the building and see with we can stop ourselves.” “Good luck brother.”

Is friends with everyone and really he loves them all but goddamn.

One time Ed dated a real shit head and you don't want to know what happened after he dumped Ed. he isn't dead but he won't be walking anytime soon.

Denny Brosh

Has Squid tentacles under his arms and fins on his legs. He glows a bright yellow underwater.

Knits, like a lot. Every one of them has a homemade sweater from him. the others he lives with wear theirs all the time. Because they do gross things like care about one another in this household.

Is still really good friends with Maria Ross, he wishes they saw each other more.

can and will shock you with his tentacles, especially if you make jokes about them.

Meme dream team leader.

Al doesn't understand memes and Denny hurts every day because of this.

has a bright yellow sweater that he knitted himself and then had every single one of his friend sign.

Thinks Kain Furey is super cute. Roy thinks he's super gross because Furey is an innocent Denny!

wholesome meme some days sex jokes on others.

pretty much all the kids have pretty severe mental health issues, but Denny is one of the few who has tried to help his.

takes anxiety meds.

while he doesn't have any sibling this timeline he has his friends and honestly they are pretty close to siblings.

has called Ed big brother but like everyone has once or twice. Ed doesn't really give a shit and has accepted his fate as the oldest and apparently the most brother like.

Maria Ross

Lots a scales, like all over her body.

has wings but she isn't sure what animal they could be from.

they are big and scaley like her.

Lives with Olivier, Mei Chang, Sheska, and Winry Rockbell when she's around. They live in an old dinner on the east side of town.

Would date Sheska 100%.

Sorta has claws, doesn't matter she enjoys painting them.

Good friends with Olivier, actually best friends. This is a problem in some ways because Olivier and Denny don’t get along at all.

Has a gun, only used it once or twice to protect her friends.

she hopes she never has to use it again.

Sometimes wonders what her family would be like if she hadn't grown up in a lab. Wonders whether of not her family sold her or if she was stolen. She wonders for the other kids as well.

Breaths and cries ice.

prefers if her friends called her Ria

Olivier Armstrong

This bitch got bat wings

they are fucking huge.

she can’t really hide them so she only goes outside at night.

she has become a cryptid.

blurry shitty pictures of her crouching on buildings wings extended, her eyes glowing are all over forums.

Batgirl strikes again??

she thinks its super funny.

Doesn't really try to hide how she's feeling.

most of the time she’s Arragont or amused.

Anime character tch.

Her list of people she dislikes is bigger than the list of people she likes.

that's a lie she loves all her friend's

she’s just bad about showing it and claims to hate them.

everyone calls her Livi.

she hates it but nobody cares.

keeps her hair in a ponytail.

Mei Chang

has a cat tail, and night vision.

Please don't make any jokes.

she doesn't want this.

People sometimes pull her tail. they only pull it once though. People learn from their mistakes.

wears a big pink coat with lots of pockets. she keeps both dead mice and her kunai in the pockets.

Is Winrys assistant when she's around.

loves to help. is crushing on Al from the west side library. Everyone knows but Al. Ed and Ling think that is hilarious. Like it didn't take them months to get over themselves.

Ling is her half-brother. She isn't sure how trustworthy the info is because it’s something she heard from lab technicians.

Wants to learn to fight better but nobody wants to spar with her.

Sit’s up at night and stares at her coffee.

it’s cold now but she can’t get to sleep.

Winry Rockbell

Has butterfly wings, emperor butterfly wings. They don't make her as fast as Ed but it is faster to fly than to walk and she can fly for pretty long periods of time.

automail isn't really a thing. So Winry does general doctor stuff.

she goes between bases and makes sure that everybody is healthy.

most of the time that isn't the case so shes pretty much always working.

Thinks Mei is a wonderful helper.

Wears her signature tube top. doesn't travel through populated areas and definitely doesn't by day.

Butterflygirl isn't as cool as a cryptid as Batgirl so she doesn't get much coverage.

Will still hit you with a wrench don't test her.

She carries it and her entire toolbox because she’ll be damned if she loses time for her machines while helping out these idiots.

Dating Mothman.

Mothman is actually Lan Fan. this joke doesn't make a lot of sense to her because Lan Fan doesn't have moth wings. Ling and Ed tell her to shut up and go with it. She rolls her eyes fondly.

Kain Fuery

Has ant antenna. he can send messages across radio waves because of this. makes it easy to keep up with his friends.

Lives with Jean and Rebbeca in what they think was once a club. It's unused now but it does have an underground bunker for some reason.

He is an innocent

(He isn't)

keeps a picture of some dog in his pocket.

he needs it to keep up morale.

yes, it is just a stock photo of a dog that he stole out a picture frame at wallmart a couple years ago.

He really likes animals. Ed and Roy hate going out with both him and Al in a pair because both of them insist on stopping to pet every dog and cat or whatever animal.

Functional Bi

Jean Havoc

Has fins he thinks. they are like spiky and help him swim better. they are all over his back and wrap around his arms. Has gills, and he tends to glow a bluish purple.

he lives in the club but prefers to be near the docks.

Loves to swim

Just call him Jean

Please god just call him Jean.

Olivier and Maria butchered his last name so bad when he first meet him that he is permanently traumatized.

he’s being dramatic but like, that's who he is??

Disaster Bi

Pinning? His constant mood?

Ling Yao

Red panda tail and claws.

Loves sweet things, like so much.

Can see in the dark, loves his night vision

Thinks Ed throwing knives at him is super hot

Ed is Concerned TM

Doesn't really live anywhere.

bounces around the bases with Lan Fan.

Lan Fan is actually his twin sister but they haven't told Mei that yet.

he doesn't know why people don't just know.

Climbs in Ed’s window in the middle of the night.

freaked Ed out the first time it happened but he got used to it.

spars on rooftops in the middle of the day.

For some reason, nobody seems to freak out.

Kink is love and appreciation

doesn't actually know most of the other kids. Sometimes there will just be a different kid at the base and He’ll be like cool.

Everone knows about Ling though.

Lan Fan

She has lunar moth wings. Although Winry seems to think they are from some type of butterfly like her. Ed and Ling know the truth and call her moth man.

She flicks their faces for it.

loves food. thinks it must be because lunar moths cant eat, that side of her wants to eat E V E R Y T H I N G.

Or maybe she just has a huge appetite because Ling eats a ton as well.

has night vision as well.

Is her last name Fan? Not even she knows.

Everyone calls her Lan Fan though.

Spars with Ling but prefers fighting with Ed because Ling holds back. Ed doesn't.

tries so hard not to scream at her friends.

god, she tries so hard.

This took so long. If you want to hear about specific characters request it and I’ll make another one of these. If anyone wants to write a fanfic send it to me, I’ll be the first one to kudos that ish.

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ljbarks · 7 years ago

Text

Julien Baker, My Father, Two Decades of Noise, and the Quiet

Soda guns make a funny noise. Like a dozen dentists doing work all at once, some suction and a strange gurgle.

Usually, it’s also a noise that happens nonchalantly, especially in a place like this, the gurgle drowned out by the din and dissonance of the band and the crowd and the night.

Right now though, a couple songs into Julien Baker’s set at White Eagle Hall, the soda gun — and the cracking of a fresh beer, the opening and closing of the standard-issue industrial doors at the back of the room, everything — have become some kind of strange and unwelcome accompaniment, dropping in at all the wrong moments, a laugh-track mistakenly placed over A Very Special Episode.

This, of course, is partially my fault. I’m perpetually late and the kind of short where I’ve had to turn my annoyance at the dozens of phones shooting video that’s never gonna be revisited into an argument for how useful all those glowing screens are as periscopes. Too anxious to push my way to the front under some false “I’m looking for my friends” pretense, because I know my friends are not up there because they’re all at home because it’s Tuesday and we’re in our mid-thirties. And then what happens when I get to up there? Then I’m awkwardly planted next to a person who’s not my friends, inserting myself into this stranger’s night like I just hatched from my pod and am enjoying my first moments in this human body, cumbersome and lumbering, exploring the thing the earthlings call music.

Instead, I don’t move from the spot on the floor that I’ve acquired simply by ordering a beer at the bar and then turning and taking only the amount of steps required to get out of the way of the next person. But the hypothetical awkwardness stays, permeating the room in some other way. As I, from my tippy-toes, and the other 799 people packed into White Eagle watch Baker take the stage, it’s to a strange kind of silence.

The first live music I ever saw that wasn’t my father playing the organ in our house — like the first thing that involved a band and instruments, and an in-hindsight surprising lack of any kind of adult supervision — was a punk show at the Rockaway American Legion.

It was 1997.

I was the kid who wore Nirvana shirts to school every single day. A girl in my first period biology class was passing out flyers.

“I think you like music, I don’t know.”

She tossed the thing on my desk. I was never cool to begin with, but in this moment she was infinitely cooler than me.

I convinced my best friend to come, and my father happily volunteered to drive us, depositing two fifteen year-olds in some random parking lot with only a vague idea about when to return to collect us.

This, that he was so willing to do this, volunteered to do it, was a confusing thing about my father. He was angry and strict, though only about the small and specific things. I never had a curfew, but food falling off your fork at dinner as you awkwardly tried to get this adult-sized utensil into your child-sized mouth would launch some kind of international incident. It always ended with slamming doors and crying and him storming out and me climbing up into the treehouse to write some other life in my head.

The flyer, because it was 1997, had a phone number to call “for directions or sex advice.” I blacked out that second part before I showed it to my parents, marching into our kitchen with this photocopied paper adorned with a giant hand-drawn, bug-eyed and bemowhawked creature with a safety pin through its tongue, the names of a bunch of bands they wouldn’t have known even if their entire record collection wasn’t The Kingston Trio, the soundtrack to The Big Chill and Donald Fagen.

I didn’t know the bands, either, really, but I knew I needed to go to this thing and see it. And so I also armed myself with an argument for why I should be allowed to go. Instead, I just got a “yes.” Simple. Too easy. My father, for all the other stuff, became his opposite self when it came to matters of music.

That November night in the American Legion, I found the thing I didn’t know I’d been looking for for all of the 15 years and four months of my life before it. My home, my people, my thing. My father came to pick us up at the end, and I surely got back in the car, tired and happy and smelling of cigarettes, but really, I never left.

Twenty-one years later that flyer hangs on the wall of my apartment.

Through the rest of my high school life, I’d check out the arts listings in the paper, picking out concerts and pulling out the phonebook so my parents could call Ticketmaster, using the money I’d made from working at the family business and then my job at the mall to finance these miniature adventures. And every time, my father would volunteer his services as driver, dutifully dropping us off somewhere in the middle of Manhattan so that we could enjoy a night with The Offspring.

Once I could drive, we’d spend weekends traversing the state following handwritten directions scribbled on a pick from the stack of flyers we’d been handed at the previous show. Living in all the wonder that comes with the kind of places willing to host an afternoon of complicated-looking kids too into something that was mostly dissonance and sometimes childhood music lessons repurposed into bad Bosstones knockoffs. Elks lodges, VFW halls, American Legions, firehouses, basements, the storefront of a diet food restaurant, high school gyms and random rooms in churches.

Then we’d take the train into the city and see the bigger touring bands that came through. Take a quarter for the payphone to call my mom from Penn and let her know the train didn’t derail on the way. Take the Midtown Direct from Dover for Pennywise, All and Strung Out in the city on Friday, drive to Asbury Park for Blink 182, Silverchair and Fenix TX on Sunday, go to school on Monday. Lars Frederiksen stealing my friend’s lighter outside a Dropkick Murphys show at the Wetlands. Smoking in the downstairs of Roseland as we browsed the tables of patches and buttons that lined the room. Summers with multiple Warped Tour dates, a car accident on the way to Asbury leaving the front passenger side door of my ’95 Golf in a permanent state of not closing right, our nostrils still filled with dust from Randall’s Island the day before.

Then, college, a degree I'd never get and mostly shitty jam bands in a small market city not on the way to anywhere. The other nights, more special. When Rainer Maria came to Higher Ground or AFI played at 242. River City Rebels with Catch 22 at a barn in rural Vermont or Bane in the middle of winter in some school gym. Kill Your Idols and Sworn Enemy and Agnostic Front and My Revenge and the show stopping to throw out some boneheads after they tried to rip a SHARP patch off a kid’s jacket. That night Death Cab played at UVM and someone from the band chased a kid who threw a disc golf disc onto the stage through the halls of whatever building that was. That same place where I saw Q and Not U and I think the only two times I was ever in that building. Our little NJ Scene expat crew, four people strong, watching some punk show on the second floor of the extra-strength hippie dorm.

Post-weird four year exile in Vermont, our little Jersey scene had shifted and died and grown up too much, but the city was still there. I’d learned by then never to take New York for granted. I went to shows.

So many.

Our Wilco/Ryan Adams cousins crew getting too drunk in Brooklyn bars and me as the only one over 21 buying bodega tallboys for everyone to drink from brown paper bags in Greeley Square. Getting lost in Macy’s and losing the car in midtown and getting actually lost on the way back from Camden. Perfect nights walking around Williamsburg and sunny Saturdays in Greenpoint and spending the night on Saint Marks after the War on Drugs got rained out. Happy hours at Matchless and tacos at that spot in Port Chester. The conversation before the Ty Segall show that started with me being excited for my friend and ended up with me on Uncle Einar’s first tour two months later. Too hyped after Run the Jewels and dropping my car key in a rest stop toilet because I hadn’t slept and went to see Rancid and Dropkick anyway. Too much whiskey and the side-effects of a tetanus shot and 13 staples in my leg and a Titus Andronicus show at Maxwell’s that I don’t remember. Getting a contact lens straight kicked out of my eye at that Vandals show at Irving Plaza. The lost weekend that was Punk Rock Bowling.

Plenty of solo trips, too, not wanting to miss what could be — because you never know — some band’s last time, and I’m not even going to bother trying to sell it to my friends. Sleater-Kinney five times in a week, the Piebald reunion, the sweatiest night ever when the AC broke at Webster Hall during the Bouncing Souls, and a fear of frostbite at Sonic Youth after putting a Chuck Taylor-clad foot into the depths of one of those curbside lakes the New York winter creates.

A thousand more that escape me now, but show me the ticket stub and I'll tell you the story.

The one constant is noise. There is always noise. The expected kind, of the band and the crowd cheering and singing along. And the annoying kind, of the full-on conversations everyone’s having as the band plays ten rows up, like the Bowery Ballroom is just an extension of their living room.

There is nothing better than a full-crowd singalong.

There is nothing worse than the people behind me at Sleater-Kinney’s first NYC show in nearly a decade having a full-on conversation — as the band was ripping through ‘Start Together’ or whatever — about an article one of them read about a Maraschino cherry factory that was illegally dumping whatever the byproducts of Maraschino cherry-making are into some Brooklyn waterway. It is a bonkers story that also involves a secret basement pot growing operation, but also, in the words of the great Sue Simmons, “the fuck are you doing?”

But both of those parts are also what make up the show. We’re in a room, simultaneously strangers and best friends. Together, doing a thing. That the gaps between songs are filled by this low mumble, that the band sometimes gets treated like nothing more than a backing track to an evening, because this is New York and we’re still too busy to even take this part out of our day to make it an actual part of our day.

There is some strange comfort in that noise, all of it, together.

This night, back at White Eagle, is different. It is silent. Starkly so. In an hour, I will be — we all will be — spit back out into New Jersey’s endless winter, down the steps and onto Newark Avenue, having learned no more about Maraschino cherries than we knew before we entered. I will hear nothing about who’s lunch Susan stole from the fridge at work today, or just how fucked up it was to get to Jersey from Ridgewood on a Tuesday night.

The only conversations I will hear are ones of faintly whispered commentary about how good this is. About “thank you for bringing me.” About “this is amazing.” And at first, it’s weird and jarring and uncomfortable, and every time another beer gets cracked at the bar the people all around me let out some barely audible groan, because for the first time at any show I’ve ever been to, we’re all sitting in that silence, and none of us know how to behave.

The show opens with ‘Over’ and ‘Appointments’ and no one even knows what to do when that’s over. Like, none of us know if we should even clap. Forever and ever, before and after this, the answer is obvious, but here, we’re all in some kind of silent agreement that there’s at least a question as to whether anything should pierce the quiet. Like we’d be as annoying as another person’s vodka soda order being fulfilled if we did.

Slowly, somewhere around the end of ‘Turn Out the Lights,’ we all agree to figure out if clapping is okay. Then light cheering. Eventually we’ve navigated it, all settled into a balance between the silence and the act of being at a show. Some of the people around me even risk a low singalong during parts of ‘Rejoice’ and that one part of ‘Everybody Does’, though the intermittent activity at the bar is still at least as loud.

And maybe, beyond the lack of talking, that’s why I’m so shaken and uncomfortable with this silence. Life is about noise, even in the background. A podcast, music, the TV I’m not watching. The fan that runs at night just so I can sleep. The silence outside my parents’ house makes me uneasy. I am home with sirens piercing the pre-dawn air. Stop the noise and the quiet can make things deafening in your head.

Shows are ringing ears and not knowing if you’re shouting at each other when you talk about how good it was on the way home. Why in some other social setting you’ll find me nodding in agreement even though I didn’t really hear what you just said. It is inherently about noise and sound taking over a room and taking everyone in that room with it.

Here, we’re trying to navigate that same journey with the quiet. Like turning up the volume on the car radio as you try to find your turn.

The thing I know about Julien Baker, because maybe I read The New Yorker while I’m brushing my teeth, is that she came up in some kind of punk scene that I imagine was similar to, though at least a decade and many states removed, from the one I did. Sonically, her music, just a guitar and some loops and piano and the occasional string accompaniment, is miles away from the basements and VFW halls and Elks lodges where I spent my teenage years. But it’s familiar somehow, too.

Maybe it’s because she’s here, on Tuesday night that’s too cold for April, mostly alone on stage, with just her songs and a couple guitars, a pedal board, a piano, and someone sometimes popping up to play violin, and she’s gotten this entire crowd to stop, to be quiet and sit in this silence and in these songs and find solace or something like it, in it, in them, in this. And that? That’s about as loud, and as punk rock, a thing as you can do.

#long reads #music #NYC #NJ #julien baker

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alywritesarticles · 8 years ago

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The Creative Process with Kelsey Reid

On a frigid February evening, I interviewed Kelsey Reid while she painted four small, abstract artworks. We sat down, a few feet apart, on the warm hardwood floor of my East Vancouver bedroom. She was wearing loose boyfriend jeans, a t-shirt, and a fuzzy leopard print coat, with thin-rimmed gold glasses and her hair tied into a ponytail at the crest of her skull. Three candles burned in three corners of the room, a record span on the player behind us, and a rock salt lamp on the coffee table glowed warm with orange light. Kelsey started by plopping a gob of bright turquoise paint on the parchment and dragging it diagonally across the surface until it faded away, and I turned on my voice recorder.

This is how our conversation went.

Tell me how you're feeling today. What has your mood been like all day? Kind of emo, a little bit. Just a little down in the dumps with this shitty weather.

What did you do today? I woke up super early and then I left super early. Then it took me two hours to get home. Then I slept for four hours, and I went to class.

Are you feeling like painting something happy today to offset that? Yeah, I think I am. I picked colours this morning at like, 11:00am. At that point, I was kind of groggy and rushing around so I just grabbed some random shit, and then this *points at turquoise paint* is my favourite colour to paint with. It just kind of jumps off the page.

It's true! It is so nice to look at. It's very beautiful. Is this how your process usually starts? Yeah! I just sit on the floor and have everything out all around me on a tack board.

Do you usually like everything in its proper place or do you work better in disarray? It's funny that you ask because I do like everything in its place. My pastels are always on my left side. I don't know why. I just noticed that.

And do you normally have a bunch of canvases out like this or do you often work on one at a time? Sometimes I do. I hate wasting paint. This is a bunch of paint for me right here, so I'll probably put it on the other canvases, but usually I just work at one at a time. Then I let it dry and move onto the next one.

This is really interesting to me because it looks spontaneous. Can you tell me what it's like? I have no game plan. I just start drawing shapes and putting paint down. I never do anything with an image in my head. I just start painting. If I try and plan it, it just looks like shit. I'll figure out something good and if I try to re-create it it just looks awful.

When you're done with this, do you think you'll be able to look at it and have it mean something new to you, or do you kind of just do them and not look at them anymore? I like looking at my own art because I can tell what I was feeling on that day, but I often do end up putting them away. I have so many old drawings in this thick binder in my room. I do look at them sometimes.

How is this art a representation of where you're at right now? It's very scattered. I've been very unorganized lately, so I think that's how it is. I'm also a big fan of biology and things like that. I wanted to be an immunologist when I was like, 18 or something. I always incorporate some sort of science thing in my paintings. I mean, *gestures to canvas she's working on* this looks like a brain neuron to me.

What you just said — an immunologist. What is that? Immunologists just study immunity and how diseases affect the immune system.

How does this tie into that? They seem like they're totally different things. I really like the shapes of biology. I took Biology 12 and didn't finish the course, but I really liked looking at it.

That's interesting. Feel free to just live stream this to me. If you're feeling something, let me know. Okay. I feel like I use a lot of clinical colours. I use a lot of cool tone colours. I don't really use a lot of warm tone colours.

So by "clinical" you mean sterile? Mhm. I like blues a lot.

Do you think blue is a sad colour for you? No, not at all. It's very happy and optimistic.

What do you think you're connecting to that colour? I feel like I connect Lynn Valley to it, specifically. Like, the river. I grew up in Langley. That's the weird thing. There's no rivers. Also, at the same time as I was taking biology I also took pre-calculus 11. I just think about those two courses all the time.

Why pre-calc.? It's just very pretty—all of the parabolas and things.

Do you think that that shines through in your art? Oh, of course. Right after I took pre-calc., I started drawing parabolas and graphs all the time. They're just super fun to draw. I liked that I was so determined about doing well in the course, and I was doing well in the course. I never did my homework in high school. This was after high school. I was upgrading so I could do the immunology course. So I was actually doing the work and being a good student, and I liked that. I liked getting good grades, but I also didn't end up finishing that course either.

But I guess you kind of continued that with this in a way. That shape looks like an acute angle. Yeah, exactly.

So there's definitely the technical aspect of it there, but there's an emotional aspect too. Have you always made stuff like this, since you were little? For sure, yeah. My dad always encouraged me to make my own stuff instead of colouring in colouring books. I didn't really know what abstract was when I was a kid, so I would just draw a bunch of girls all the time.

That's pretty different. Do you feel like you're ever translating those early roots into the work you make now? It's less about that. Well, I was obsessed with girls when I was a kid. Now I'm obsessed with biology and math.

This one's pretty different from the stuff you were making before. What changed? I wanted something softer. These *gestures to three of the completed paintings* are all very angular. With a lot of my art, I use a lot of pastels because I really like the aesthetic of the eighties. I just fucking love the eighties. Everything about it. When I was seventeen I was super emo and I didn't do anything, so I listened to a lot of Depeche Mode. The eighties just seemed super fun and I wasn't having any fun so I just loved it.

How intuitive is this for you? Is it natural, kind of flowing? I never think about it. If I find a technique that I like, it's a one hit wonder. I can't re-create it.

How far into the process are you right now? I'm nearly done. I usually don't paint for very long.

Do you feel like you've discovered anything, or like your mood has changed at all? I feel like I've discovered that I draw things that are in the back of my mind, and that I am really inspired by the eighties and I didn't really realize why, and that I'm still obsessed with science. I can either do my art or hate it or do my art and be like, 'Holy shit. This is cool.' And I feel like 'Holy shit. This is cool.' right now.

Do you have a favourite? This one.

How come? I feel like I really like the imagery of hooks. Like, this one looks like a hangman. The first thing I thought of when I saw this was the hook and crank of the pharaohs, or whatever. I like a lot of curves. With my art, it's definitely about balancing masculine and feminine energies. That's with the colour choices and the shape choices.

Which colours are feminine to you? I'd say orange, brown, grey, yellow, and maybe green. Blues are definitely masculine.

How about the curves? Do you think that ties into the masculine and feminine thing? I do, yeah. I think that's how the whole world is. It's like yin and yang, not to appropriate that concept.

The general sense that I'm getting is that this is about balance. Do you think that's a way of you achieving that? Maybe, because my moon is in virgo and I'm secretly super neurotic but that's probably why, yeah.

Because you saw objects in this painting, what do you see in the other ones? In this, I see part of a brain neuron and a microscope right here. In this one, I see a bacterium and the mitochondria. This is the endoplasmic reticulum right now and here's the mitochondria. I really like drawing endoplasmic reticulum because they're super cool.

#kelsey reid #artist #art #painting #paint #creative process #craft #process #creation #artwork #artistry #creating #creativity #aly writes #aly writes articles #writing #journalism #interview

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perfectlyimperfectwriting · 4 years ago

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Tragic Beauty by Shannon

5.00pm, I stare about the busy office, the building practically vibrating with the loud chatter of the mundane. I walked past each desk silently, preparing myself for another week, a week of sitting with people I didn’t know, listening to things I didn’t quite understand and hadn’t mastered yet. I was in training for a new position in my company, while a step up from my previous job, this was no promotion. Moved for being terrible at my job, something that had been plaguing me lately, I was so shitty they had to search for somewhere to get rid of me, someone else to dump me on because of how utterly useless I was. You see, I had never been good at selling things, selling required lying, stretching the truth to make people want things. I had never been a good liar, never one to bullshit anyone into doing what I wanted. So I failed, in a job I had endured 5 weeks of patronizing, nursery-esque training for. I had been forced from the people I had been with for almost an entire year, and flung to the piranha’s, a sea void of friends, void of certain comforts I had come to know as part of my job. Anxiety meant I needed a routine, stability. I needed to be around people I knew, I struggled to thrive in a place where I had no allies, but after the weekend I’d had, I needed them more than ever. These past few months had been almost enough to kill me.

I had been in love, or so I thought, four years of laughing and crying, of idolizing the man I thought I would marry. Being with him was like a roller coaster, when we were good, we were really good. But then in crept the darkness, the fights that made you contemplate your every decision, constantly wondering if I was good enough, constantly worrying he didn’t really love me. After four years of having no self worth, of feeling unwanted, I had grown tired of being the only one fighting for that white picket fence. Four months I took to contemplate my life, my hardest decision, the only decision ever to make my heart literally ache, knowing I would hurt him is what was the hardest for me, I had decided after month one that I didn’t want him anymore. That we couldn’t work, but took another three, because I couldn’t bare seeing him cry, it had always been my weakness when we fought, seeing him breaking in front of me was something I couldn’t bare. After four months, I broke up with the man I loved over text, I left our home, and I texted him everything I had been trying to tell him for four months. And he broke, coming back to that desolate house made my heart drop, I felt sick, scared that I had made a huge mistake. Scared that I would never know love again, that I had thrown away the only thing close to happiness I would ever witness.

But now, now I knew it was the right thing to do, I had found some semblance of peace, made stupid decisions someone my age would normally make, did things that I had never been able to do with him. While I was finding myself, I still felt so numb. So empty. I drank every weekend, house filled with strangers, trying to erase everything, trying so desperately to never be alone so that I didn’t cave. Not because I still loved him, but because he was safe, he used to be home. And without him, I wasn’t sure what my future entailed. The only serious relationship I had known failed, I failed at my job, I failed as a daughter, as a sister and as a friend. For those months I was useless, caused more pain than I hindered. The failures didn’t stop there, it seemed recently I couldn’t get anything right. My bed had visitors more often than not, visitors that shouldn’t have been allowed, and wouldn’t, had I been less vulnerable, less weak. Less pathetic. You see, I had spent my entire life thinking emotions made you weaker, and so I tried everything to numb myself to the world. I pushed everyone away because I refused to feel. I refused to allow someone else to hurt me the way he had, the way my father had, the way various people had my entire life. My past trauma had made me almost cynical against my own race, humans.

After my breakup I felt this more intensely than ever before, that was. Until I saw him. The lovely woman who had took my training the week before had mentioned that one of our team, my new team. Was on holiday, and that he would be back this week, I had completely forgotten this fact, till I rounded the corner to my desk, I noticed him instantly, I sat between him and the training mentor who had mentioned him, her and I were to work together again today but I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I studied everything about him, from his posture to his facial expression, I drank in the smell of his aftershave like I needed it to survive. There was something about him that instantly intrigued me, that demanded my attention. I had never been able to pinpoint what exactly it was about him that started my obsession, but it was that day that I knew my life would never be the same, I knew that he would change everything, but fuck... I never realized how much. For the first time in my life, I was speechless, shy. Noticing that I hadn’t spoken since sitting down I ranted to the mentor I had been sat with about the weekend I had just had, the bullshit that had plagued me. She offered advice and while he didn’t speak I sensed it bothered him, what I didn’t know was if I was bothering him or if he agreed with what his friend next to me was saying.

If he despised how wronged I was as much as I did. Sensing how shy I was my mentor (Rosie) introduced us. His name would be burned into my memory, Ryan. I started talking to Rosie about my interests, music I loved, she noticed my hoodie. My Chemical Romance.

“Oh Ryan likes them, don’t you Ryan?”

“Do you?!”

“Yes”

One word, one word and everything about it was burned into my memory, the tone of his voice, the look on his face as he said it. There was a beautiful sadness about him that I had sensed since I sat down, something that fascinated me in those early days. That one yes was the saddest thing I had heard or seen, his attempt to smile didn’t work on me, because I was an expert. I could see beyond a plastered on smile because I so often wore one. I could see deeper than what was on the surface. While his lips turned into the cutest smile I had seen, his eyes betrayed him as he fixated them on the computer monitor. Refusing to turn to me, now I assume it was because he was scared I would see. That I would know.

But those oceanic, sad eyes were the most beautiful things I had seen in my lifetime. 21 years I had been alive and never witnessed such tragic beauty. He made concentrating on work so hard that day, I tried my fucking absolute best to concentrate on Rosie, on the glowing monitor in front of her, the phone re-positioned so that I could listen to how she handled calls. But I always found my gaze drifting back to him. I tried my best to be funny, to make him smile and break the ice, to cheer him up. But received nothing back, was I an annoyance in this beautiful creature’s life? Was he shy too? I suddenly grew conscious that I was talking too much. But that was my true illness, anxiety meant I hated awkwardness but so often caused it, I couldn’t sit in silence. I grew restless and had to amend this. So often when faced with silence, I spoke too much, I didn’t know how to stop. When to shut the fuck up and just relax. Even on that first day, I wanted to do nothing but hug him, to be near him. To be a part of his world, I wanted to know what plagued him, I wanted to fix it. I wanted to be the reason he laughed, and not the laugh people like me and him usually performed. I mean a real laugh, the kind that made your face hurt and your stomach ache as if to reject your fun.

On that day I witnessed the most beautifully sad creature ever to cross my path, and on that day began an obsession, I was entranced, aching for him, to know all of his deepest darkest desires, all of the thoughts that kept him awake at night, in his eyes I saw years of pain, suffering that I too had felt. Sitting beside him I had instantly felt comfortable, a complete stranger. I couldn’t call the doctor myself but I could speak to him. He instantly made me feel at ease, made me smile even when he said nothing, it was on that day I learned, every room is better if he is in it.

#fiction shortstory

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