#sorry it's long but I wrote it and stayed up past 4 am oops

[the-golden-ghost]

Drabble ask - 83. “Heal” requested by @seagoing-nerd! 

(Placed below a cut due to length)

Nemo was right where Pierre knew he would find him - in his laboratory, paying careful attention to the holding tanks where they had gathered a small cluster of sea anemones to study their behavior and composition. 

He didn’t look up when Pierre came in, but he rarely did when he was focused on something. His scientific findings were important to him, and that included the ones that involved the life that flourished under the sea. He’d expanded the holding tanks at Pierre’s suggestion. A marine naturalist needed a good place to study, after all. But in the end, Nemo got just as much use out of them as Pierre did.

“You’re still watching them?” Pierre asked. “I prefer the ones on land - they’re more colorful, and smell nicer. Although I see why you’d like them; they have your name right in the middle of theirs.”

Nemo looked up abruptly as if he’d just noticed that he had company. “The way they move... that’s interesting. I was wondering if they attached themselves to stones the way shellfish do, or if they secrete some sort of mucus to hold fast to a rock, or if they simply stay in place by sheer force of muscle.” 

“They can walk.” Pierre pointed out.

“I know. But how do they avoid drifting with the current? They’re inert, mostly.”

“Living in places without much current, I guess. And they burrow into the sand. I don’t know that they typically make their homes on rock beds. They’re not coral.”

Nemo leaned back, staring into the holding tank for a minute more in contemplative silence. When he turned to Pierre again, his eyes were curious. “What did you come to speak to me about?”

Pierre hesitated. This next part would have to be handled delicately, he knew. “When I made the decision to return to the Nautilus, you said that I might stay for six weeks and see how I liked it. When that was up, we came to the agreement that in order to better complete my studies here, I ought to stay for a full tour - six months.”

“Yes,” Nemo said. He did not seem at all surprised that Pierre had brought this up, and when the professor searched his face and eyes for any signs of stress or resentment, he found none. 

“Well, the six months are nearly up,” Pierre went on. “Therefore, per our agreement -”

“I’ve already made plans for you to return to France, Professor,” Nemo said. His voice was casual, unbothered. “We’ll be returning to the Atlantic round the southern tip of Africa, and from there, entering European waters. There may be some delay depending on the numeracy of enemy ships, but I can have you back in Paris by the eighteenth of this month - at the outside.”

It stirred Pierre to hear Nemo speak so calmly and without having missed a detail. He knew, too, that unlike the first time Pierre had traveled with this strange crew, the Nautilus would not strike her enemies, but would evade them. He’d seen this firsthand during his second tour. It felt good to be able to explore the ocean again, this time as a free man. Getting to know the crew, continuing his life’s work, settling into the familiar rhythm of daily life aboard... to Pierre, it had begun to feel serene and peaceful, almost a second home.

In fact, it felt so much like a second home that the thought of leaving made him rather sad. But Nemo had been clear on his terms when he allowed Pierre his extended second journey; the Nautilus was not a pleasure boat, and could not simply come when asked. If Pierre wished to stay in Paris, he would not be able to return after this venture. 

But, Pierre knew, his other choice would be to leave Paris - and the rest of the world - for good, except for visits. To become a simple tourist in every known land! The thought was startling. But then... to be a citizen not of the earth, but of the sea...? That, admittedly, kept him awake sometimes. A part of him wanted that. 

“Thank you, Captain,” Pierre said quietly. He wished Nemo would give him something; some sign or gesture that would help him make his decision, but Nemo remained quite enigmatic on the subject.

Still. He’d returned to being the proud and venerable captain that Pierre had known at the best of times during his first journey; noble, brilliant, generous by nature, protective at heart. Never once during these six months had Nemo tried to resume their old accord, and never once had Pierre initiated it. But in spite of this, Nemo was no longer closed off to Pierre. He’d opened up about his past, his motives, and though he had not gone into detail, many things had become clear to Pierre when he’d done this. 

True, Nemo had not set aside his anger completely, and likely never would, but he no longer acted on it in fear and violence. If nothing else, it spurred him with a greater passion to aid those who were hurting, and to protect those he called his companions. In short, he was healing, and Pierre could not have been prouder of him.

“Captain,” Pierre said. He wished his voice seemed less hesitant, but that was the way it was. “May I ask... do you want me to leave?”

Nemo blinked. “Want you to? Well, no. You’ve been a worthy traveling companion.” 

“Then,” Pierre continued. “Do you want me to stay?”

Nemo looked into the anemone tank. “That is not up to me, sir. We had our agreement, and I have honored it. I won’t influence your decision,” he swallowed, seeming to grow slightly less at ease. “Not this time.”

“I appreciate that you’re unwilling to force me in this matter; except for one thing. I asked you,” Pierre said. “And you promised me honesty when I returned aboard. That was part of our agreement, do you remember?” 

The Captain turned to stare at him for a long moment, and Pierre’s heart squeezed tight. But at last, Nemo spoke again. “...Yes. Yes, Professor, I want you to stay.”

“Sir.”

“This in no way obligates you to do so. But remember - you asked.” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, Captain,” Pierre said. “I was not looking for an order, or even a suggestion. I only wanted to hear you say it.” 

Nemo inclined his head slightly, his eyes softening a fraction. “In that case, you have some time to decide what you’ll do. If your decision is to leave, I won’t hinder you at all, you understand. But if you would like to stay, you’ll be accommodated for, and we can reestablish the terms of your living here as a - more permanent member of our crew.” 

Pierre smiled and bowed to him. “Thank you, sir. And thank you for answering my question. I could not have decided without knowing every variable at hand.” And this was true. Pierre still was not certain where his ultimate destiny lay, but the choice was his, and he knew where his heart was leading him.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect��� person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela… leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

[ppersonna]

tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  

Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”  

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  

Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  

“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  

“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[angelic-serenade]

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

request: 🌟 Hellou!! I love ur work!! ❤️❤️❤️ Is it possible tó ha e a Alastor and younger(like 4 years younger) reader who have nightmares of his death sonetimes, cause she saw itt Back then, and go to big bother Alastor for comfort? 🦌

requested by: anon

a/n: okay so this was supposed to be a quick one-shot but my hand slipped and I wrote 9500+ words instead. oops. anyway, I hope this meets your expectations, enjoy!

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

pairing: Alastor x sister! reader

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

warnings: mentions of death, bit of angst, traumatic events, toxic relationship if you squint, Alastor being Alastor but softer for reader

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

It never rained down in Hell, no matter how ardently you had sometimes wished to feel the drops pouring down your robes. Even during your longest nights, the ones haunted by nightmares and long-forgotten memories resurfacing at your weakest, it would never rain like it did in those Gothic Novels your darling brother used to read you back in the day: you were no virtuous protagonist and never would the skies cry for your misery. It was probably one of the worst downsides of being stuck in Hell for all eternity: the equally eternal blood red sky forever looming over your head, serving as a reminder of your infernal punishment.

When you'd wake up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid nightmare, there was no pouring rain to muffle the sound of your hopeless wailings, no thunder to distract your spinning mind from its panic. Therefore, you found yourself continously seeking comfort from the only person you held dear to your now dead cold heart: Alastor, The Radio Demon, whom you had the privilege to refer to as your darling brother (at least in the privacy of your own bedchamber) - older brother to be precise, even if only by a few years. You had always been extremely fond of your sibiling, looking up to him as a role model - definitely not your wisest decision since it had landed you among the sinners of Hell. That's not to say you had any regrets, Heaven seemed like an awfully dreadful and boring place if you were to be completely honest.

Alastor, on his part, had affectionately doted on you back on the surface, taking his little sweetling under his protective wing as if his sole purpose in life had been to take care of you. As a consequence, on more occasions than you cared to remember, you had felt utterly asphixiated by your brother's undivided attention all your life, and quarrels had been a daily occurrence whenever his protective behavior clashed with your own desire for freedom. Your lovely mother had always been there to try and defuse your heated altercations, the poor woman; your dear brother and you, however, both shared the same stubbornness and desire to prevail on others, so that whenever your strong personalities came to oppose, trouble was always certain to follow suit.

You wished you'd appreciated his concerns more when you had been given the chance. Now in the afterlife, shows of affection were hard to come by. Mayhap that had been the worst punishment inflicted upon you after death: the privilege of having your dear brother by your side without actually being able to cherish and bask in his caring regards. Mayhap the illustrious Dante had been right in his musings all along: the law of retaliation had taken away from you the one thing you had never really appreciated in life, making you realize just how much you had taken for granted. Now that your brother had become Hell's greatest menace, an overlord to make things worse, weakness in any shape or form could and would not be tolerated under any circumstance, for both his and your sake.

Luckily, no demon in the seven circles suspected that the feared Radio Demon had any siblings to begin with, thanks to Alastor's foresight.

Your identity was to be kept secret at all costs in order to avoid undesired repercussions. If anyone were to even suspect you had any kind of connection to the Radio Demon - Alastor had told you - overlords and lesser demons alike would be at your throat in the span of a heartbeat. If given the chance, no enemy of his would ever hesitate to stoop as low as to attack him were it hurt the most, where he was most vulnerable. And that chance, he was not willing to give any time soon. You both had already died once and you were not keen on repeating the experience.

So you had followed his every order ever since your fall into the pits, leading a life death away from your darling brother and his chaotic ways - the one thing he hadn't been able to prevent in life -, keeping a low profile as a common denizen of Hell. Alastor would unsuspiciously check up on you every now and then, but his visits had been as rare as it was to see an angel in Hell - seeing him once a year was truly an unfair torture. Time went by and you grew more and more lonely as you mostly kept to yourself and wasted your days away in a nice apartment away from prying eyes. You were a nobody in Hell, and that was how things were meant to be.

Things changed when Alastor unexpectedly showed up at your doorstep for the second time in a year, blabbering about the newest project he'd involved himself with. His words betrayed unusual enthusiasm, a mood you had learned to be usually spurred on by the prospect of carnage and bloodshed or his precious radio broadcasts. Whenever he came to see you, he always showered you in gifts and praise, but it had been centuries since you had seen your brother so excited over... anything, really. Therefore, witnessing his cheeriness brought a genuine smile on your face. You were a little jealous you weren't the reason why he felt so giddy, but you couldn't complain as spending time with him was the greatest gift you could ever ask for these days. So when he told you you'd be moving into this phantomatic Hazbin Hotel, where he'd be staying for a while as well, you were impossibly ecstatic. Alastor had gently caressed your cheek and, in one of his rare moments of tenderness, softened his voice as if to lull you away:

“My dear, it has always pained me so to leave you here to your lonesome, but I am certain you understand that I always ever meant to protect you from harm.”

Unexpectedly, as most of his actions were, your dear brother spun you around into his arms as if he were coaxing you into a dance - which would probably be the case, knowing him. His words were impossibly haughty now, as if a switch had gone off in his mind:

“But now sweetling, now the time has come to finally put an end to this painful arrangement. You'll be joining me at this whimsical Hazbin Hotel our dear princess is so enthusiastic about!”

You knew better than to question Alastor and his ways, so you simply nodded your approval, glad to finally be able to leave that god forsaken apartment you had been locked in for far more than you cared to admit. And so you moved to the hotel - still keeping your true identity a secret, mind you. You were introduced as one of Alastor's acquantances, much like both Niffty and Husk were. Nobody questioned your unexpected presence and Charlie (much more than everybody else) welcomed you with opened arms into her precious hotel. When you offered to lend a hand with whatever she needed, she was utterly ecstatic. All in all, you were quick to adapt to the new situation.

The new accommodation, however, brought about quite a lot of new issues as well.

Spending so much time with Astor, for one, even if pretending not to be as close as siblings should be, awakened long forgotten memories about your life on Earth, most of which you would have preferred to keep locked away. During your very busy days, you were able to distract yourself from your scattered thoughts and memories; at night, however, your subconscious relentlessly haunted you in the form of nightmares and there was nothing you could really do to prevent it.

It was inevitable that you'd start losing sleep, as the only way to evade the cage that your mind had become was not to sleep at all. Astor had grown increasingly worried about your sleep-deprived state, even if he tried not to show it, masking his concern with his usual smile and charming talks:

“You will chase away any potential patrons looking so disheveled and shabby, my dear. Charlie will surely be heartbroken.”

You wouldn't have put it past him to manipulate you through guilt, but you knew that Alastor was truly worried about your health. His gaze, cryptic to most, felt all too familiar to you, just like the expressiveness of his smile held no secrets from you anymore. Needless to say, as fond of him as you were, you tried to sleep once again.

Then one night everything changed: it had been the worst night of your undead life, and the best one too.

The deafening sound of gunshots had echoed through your unconscious mind, increasingly loud footsteps and dogs barking so loud that you subconsciously jerked in your sleep. A call to your name, desperate, hopeless and scared. You saw him, his beautiful maroon eyes that had once only pooled in fondness for you, now dark and miserable. But they held promise too, a promise to fulfill maybe someday, in another life.

“I'm sorry (Y/N)”

His smile had dropped.

So had you.

You woke up screaming, trashing about in your bed. Sweat clung to your brow, your mind in a frenzied panic searched for something concrete and real to cling to. Was your brother alright? Satan, you hoped so. He had to be, he couldn't leave you again, you had to go to him, to see him, you didn't want to lose him again, you wouldn't bear the pain - you almost tripped in the bedsheets as you scrambled to the door.

When you arrived to Alastor's door, you had yet to calm down. You rapidly knocked on the hard wood, agitation evident in both your jerky movements and shivering hands.

“Alastor, Alastor, please. Open up. It's me” you desperately whispered.

As the door gently opened, your brother stepped into the darkness of the hallway and you unceremoniously flung yourself to him, clinging to his neck as if it were your lifeline. Your tears wet his robes, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to apologize. You felt like you had almost lost him again after all those years of seclusion.

But he was alive and he was with you. That's all you could hope for and far more than you thought you deserved.

Alastor uncharacteristically started to pat your head, as if trying to console you even though he had little to no experience in that area. His movements were uncertain, but as you lifted your head from his chest to gaze into his eyes, you realized no words would ever convey as much affection as Alastor's eyes did in that brief moment. His smile never faltered - even if it had become a bit strained - but you hadn't expected it to. It made you smile through your tears, despite yourself. You realized in that moment you'll forever be the only one allowed to touch Alastor without eliciting his wrath. That fact alone enough for you to truly appreciate the amount of control he'd give up in order to comfort you. He gently brought you to his bed and sat you down next to him.

“Are you quite alright sister dear? You know, those awful tears don't suit you at all! I rather much prefer your blinding smile!”

You smiled wider this time, for him, to let him know that you were indeed grateful.

“Oh, now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

When he kissed your forehead, you almost broke up crying once again: it had been so long since you and your brother had been so close. The gesture warmed your long dead heart and you tried to return the favor by kissing his cheek. Nobody had ever been that intimate with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, but in that moment he was no demon of hell: he was just Alastor, your dear brother who had doted on you in life and kept protecting you in death too - even though his ways weren't the most orthodox.

“I missed you Al. Please, don't ever leave me again.”

“I most certainly shall not, my sweet little darling. It's a promise.”

You were glad he let you stay with him for the rest of the night. No words were needed as he brought you close and took your hands into his. You both laid on the bed, in a rare moment of peace and quiet. It reminded you of your childhood on Earth and how you'd always sneak out of your room during the night to sleep next to him - you had always been afraid of the dark after all. Only in your adulthood had you learned that there are worse things than darkness one should fear.

After eons of suffering and terrible loneliness, everything finally fell into its rightful place.

Alastor was safe and so were you.

That was all that mattered.

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On: In It to Win It pt 4 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: Brooke struggles to lie to Jovan about cheering and please Vanessa at the same time whilst her anxiety flares up about their upcoming pep rally. Thanks for the reassuring comments everyone, they mean so much! I find it ironic that I haven’t wrote fanfic properly for ⅔ years and have decided to take it up again when I have a month left to revise for my a levels..oops..what can I say, Branjie has just got me back in that zone. Hope you like xoxo Ashley..

“Your brother’s not home is he?” Brooke’s eyes whipped around the room as she entered.

“I’ve never met someone who wanted to hide the fact they’re an Amazon,” Vanessa rolled her eyes at Brooke before adhering to her paranoia; “No. He’s not.”

“Where are the others?” Brooke asked. This was the first time she’d seen Vanessa since the week before. Since they kissed. Naturally, she assumed the whole squad were practising here, not just herself. With a pep rally scheduled in the following week, Brooke had spent most of her free time learning their routines and avoiding both of the siblings in order to be perfect for her first appearance with the Amazons. With fears she’d threw herself in too far at the deep end, parts of her old performance anxiety had begun to recur, just cracking the surface of her exterior - she had always strived to be the best at everything and the thought of disappointing the squad, Vanessa, and even herself were starting to eat away at her. Every possible image of failure had been running through her head - what if Jovan didn’t want to speak to her over this and she turned out to be terrible anyway. In summary, Brooke was scared. Scared of being a failure. Scared of losing her friendship. Scared that she couldn’t handle being close to Vanessa. After the events of Tuesday night, she had forced herself away from the girl, knowing full well that in the right place and time she may not be able to stop herself from kissing her again. Full well that her feelings, temptations, desires were all unrequited. Yet here she was, back with her, just the two of them. That longing that had crept its way to the front of Brooke’s mind speeding up til it was sprinting there in a marathon.

“I thought I ought to pull you aside and give you a low down. I know I was over hasty with you in your first practice. I just wanted you to get a real taste for it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Brooke nodded, wanting to add something intellectual into the conversation yet struggling to even to form words longer than one syllable in Vanessa’s presence. At this point, she figured she’d never get over the nervous jitters she got around the girl and might as well start to embrace them instead of fighting them as they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Pulling out a binder from inside the footstool, it was as if a switch had been flicked in Vanessa, she was focused.

“Welcome to Cheer 101.”

***

Although Brooke had scoured the internet for clips of the Amazons competing before her tryout, it was only now that the full-scale operation behind the squad was being deployed to her.

“Here’s the Vixens. Three-fold reigning champions, they’re our biggest competition when it comes to nationals.” Vanessa showed Brooke a newspaper clipping recording the events of the previous year’s national championships, “We don’t have long left till we face them again. Now that I’m captain, maybe this time we’ll stand a chance.”

“There’s nothing I love more than a competition,” Brooke grinned at the girl next to her and they both started the laugh.

Alas, she was no longer in plain-Janesville and was suddenly the starring role of her own personal teen romance flick - the way things were going in Tampa, Brooke had started to see everything as a cliche waiting to happen to her. Which is why she knew it would be Jovan walking through the door the second she heard the turning of the handle. Pretty soon Alanis Morissette would be writing about her life, she figured as she failed to come up with any sort of excuse as to why she was there with his sister.

Opening up the door, Jovan did a double take when he saw Brooke sat in his living room - his eyes quickly scanning over his sister before actualising who was sat with her and giving her one of his synonymous expressions.

“Hey,” Brooke tried to act cool, “Vanessa was just keeping me company while I waited for you. I’m sorry I didn’t text.”

Although not usually someone who condemned lying, Brooke’s fear of rejection was spiralling out of control at this point, every imaginary scenario in her head blowing further and further out of proportion till she saw no other option, taking the easier route rather than facing the potential consequences in the short-term. She was stuck in a triangle, left to choose between her best friend and her crush, trying as hard as humanly possible to choose both.

“For a second there I thought you’d actually fell for her bullshit and became a cheerleader,” Jovan laughed in his usual brutally honest manner, barely acknowledging his sister’s presence nevermind not caring what she thought.

Letting out an awkward laugh, Brooke glanced at Vanessa apologetically before standing up and making her way over to her brother.

“Hilarious,” Vanessa muttered, “I’ll leave you two in peace.” Giving her brother a sarcastic smile, Brooke could feel the anger radiating out of the girl’s small body as she made her way to her ground-floor bedroom - stopping to give Brooke one last dirty look before shutting her door.

“You should be easier on her,” Brooke looked at her friend, feeling a stab of instant regret, Vanessa’s face toying with her.

“I am,” Jovan said, “As I said before, I’m the only one being real to that girl.”

Yet here Brooke was, being the utter antithesis of real to him. Talk about rain on her wedding day.

***

“I really didn’t think you liked Demi Lovato,” Brooke laughed at her friend as they danced playfully in his bedroom.

“I’m an edgy gay kid in high school, of course, I have a secret love for ex-Disney Channel pop shite,” he laughed, voguing his way across the room towards Brooke.  “If you tell anyone though, you’re toast.”

Although they were just messing around, she felt the most relaxed she’d been the past week. All of her fears and anxieties, her battles with perfection and delaying of the inevitable all floating away as she swayed her hips to the music. Something about the comfort of dancing bringing her back to reality, the familiar friend guiding her through the stress.

“You’re literally my only friend,” she responded - Vanessa’s words from the week before running through her mind. “Friends like me. “They were friends. But Vanessa knew the score about the way her brother felt, and despite the flaw in his opinions, Brooke didn’t want to lose the person who was there for her when Vanessa blew her to an all-time low at the tryouts. Although they hadn’t known each other for that long, Jovan was different from her friends at home and although he said it a lot she couldn’t deny that the main reason was for how real he was. He was the refreshment Brooke needed to keep hydrated, and she figured what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him - at least for now. Or maybe that’s just what she told herself to stop the guilt of lying eating away at herself, the way people who over-justified their wrongdoings were really trying to deter themselves from realisations rather than others.

“Jovan,” a distinctly thick Puerto Rican accent singsonged as his door opened.

“Your dinner is ready. No wonder you can’t hear with all this music!”

Her eyes dark and wide and her hair slicked back to her head, Brooke soon realised that this was Vanessa’s mom.

“Sorry,” he responded, quickly turning off the music they had been dancing to.

“Ahh, this must be Brooke. I’ve heard so much about you I was starting to think you were made up!” She threw a motherly smile of genuine excitement in Brooke’s direction. “Stay for dinner, I always make way more than needed anyway.”

And that was what lead Brooke to the most awkward dinner of her life.

***

Without sounding cocky, Brooke had never been phased by spending time with people’s parents back home. Her constant need to impress and desire to be perfect both aligned well with her forward planning and ability to answer questions with confidence - turning her into a parent’s wet dream. It was about time this was going to come back to haunt her as she sat at the table with Vanessa, Jovan and their respective parents.

With Vanessa’s mom being the clear talker in the relationship, Jovan’s dad appeared more quiet and demure, simply nodding or throwing the odd smile into the conversation as they made general small talk.

Clearly aware of her extroverted daughters’ reserved manner, her mom, who Brooke now knew as Alexis, set a trap at her for a conversation with Brooke as the bait.

“Vanessa, do you know Brooke too, from school?”

There went the hook.

“We don’t really run in the same circles,” she responded pointedly, a clear ounce of wrath in her tone as she looked at Brooke across the table. There it was again, that gut-wrenching look that left Brooke at a loss for words.

“Vanjie is too good for the riff-raff like us, Alexis.” Jovan threw a line, using his sister’s nickname to mock her popular status in front of their parents.

“Jo,” his father piped up, glaring sternly at his son.

“I can’t do this,” Vanessa snapped before getting up and walking away from the table - Brooke once again hearing the slam of the front door. She dropped down like a sinker.

“I am so sorry, Brooke,” Alexis looked embarrassed of her daughter’s abrupt exit, “I don’t know what’s gotten into her these past few weeks - she’s been so feisty!”

“She’s isn’t always like that?” Jovan rolled his eyes.

Guilt pumped through Brooke with each breath. In, then out. Only amplifying and getting heavier each time. A positive feedback loop of the lies she’d told and the truths she’d hidden growing as she was sitting in front of Vanessa and Jovan’s parents whilst they apologised for Vanessa’s behaviour. Too caught up in her idyllic world of being friends with Jovan and a member of the Amazons at the same time, a harsh reality came crashing down on Brooke. She had started to become everything Jovan had made Vanessa out to be - she was fake. For the first time since meeting Vanessa - she longed for Toronto where she went with the flow, didn’t lie, didn’t lust, didn’t envy, didn’t indulge in her own fantasy and forget about the feelings of her friends. Just as things were starting to go well she fucked them up. Just like she knew she always would. The bitter pill she’d played with and hidden under her tongue all week had just been swallowed. And it was anything but sweet. Brooke knew it was time to swallow her pride along with it.

“Jovan, can we talk for a minute?” Brooke asked as they helped Alexis clear the plates for dinner.

“Oh my god, you’re breaking up with me. I knew it. Who is he?” he pulled a pretend shocked face at his friend, before taking in her sombre disposition: “What’s up?”

“I kind of lied to you,” she said, “And I know it’s shitty because you’re such an honest person and I really admire you for it. I know we haven’t known each other for that long but you really are my best friend. You’re the only person who welcomed me here and I just didn’t want you to think badly of me but I took your sister’s offer to join her squad. Since moving here, I can’t describe it but it’s like having the rush of nerves I get before a performance all the time. I haven’t had a physical outlet to drain away my anxieties and it’s been driving me nuts inside. I know I can seem confident but I overthink things so much and the thought of being anything less than perfect grates at me constantly - I need something to distract me from it. It was like my best friend and worst enemy combined when I did ballet; if I could reign it in, channel it and thrive off it through practice and competing then I was amazing, but sometimes it would just teeter over that edge and break me. And as much as I would like to say that’s all, this is me being honest - I like spending time with your sister. I know you think she’s using me but I think she’s a genuine friend, Jovan.”

Looking up at her friend for the first time in her monologue, Brooke waited for the fireworks. The storm she’d seen in her first week. The result of betrayal.

But it didn’t come.

She should be relieved, right?

She wasn’t.

In the end, the bang of the firework is never actually as bad as the lead up to it - the anxiety in the simmering flicker. And when they don’t go off at all? Then you’re left with the sour taste of dissatisfaction. The moment you waited for, all the tension that had built, all gone. Sometimes that calamitous roar was better than the uneasy tiptoe that came with no explosion.

Just silence.

Not the silence from the library when everyone was focused and thinking.

Not the silence after the first hum of the music, when the audience realised the show was about the begin and fell low awaiting the arrival of the ballerinas.

A loud silence.

A deafening silence.

***

A wave of relief washed over Brooke when she realised Vanessa was just where she hoped she would be.

“Hey,” she sat down on the park bench, the memories of their night spent talking all coming back to her in flashes of gold. “I know you’re pissed at me for lying, but I told Jovan that I’m on the team.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” Vanessa responded abruptly, making a point of staring ahead instead of making eye-contact with Brooke.

“You seem pissed,” Brooke reached out to touch the girl’s arm for Vanessa to flinch away.

Although she knew she deserved the cold shoulder - it still stung all the same.

“I’m upset. I’m sick of everyone acting like cheerleader’s are just a waste of space, Brooke. And you pretty much affirmed that you think that way too. Too embarrassed to let anyone know you’re on the squad. You’re supposed to rep with pride for god sake,”

Taking in the girl’s words, Brooke was surprised at her feeling this way. She had wanted nothing more than to be up there performing with Vanessa and the Amazons the second she’d laid eyes on them.

“Vanessa, everyone at school worships the ground you walk on - including me, no one thinks you guys are a waste of space,”

“I don’t mean at school,” she snapped at Brooke, her repressed emotions seeping through every pore.

“You can talk about it,” Brooke said, and not in the superficial way you do when you want to know the gossip or simply want to seem like a good friend, she was the most genuine she’d ever been in her life. She figured Vanessa knew this too, as low and behold she began to open up to Brooke, releasing the dam to let all the water gush past.

“We used to be friends, me and Jovan. We were just becoming teenagers and our parents got married so quickly, it was hard. But we quickly realised that we were both going through the same shit and could lean on each other. Yeah, he was a bit weird, but I didn’t care - we were like this,” Vanessa crossed her fingers together and met Brooke’s gaze. “Sometimes we fought but we loved each other, like Drake and Josh - but less white.” She laughed - one of those laughs where if you didn’t just embrace it you’d start to cry. “We used to do gymnastics in our garden, he was always better more flexible, I used to wish I could be like him. I wanted to be as carefree as he was, I still do. And then high school came. We tried out for the Amazons together, I didn’t really want to because I knew he was better than me and got scared he’d make it on and I wouldn’t. It broke him, Brooke. It really did, he did a full 180 and stopped loving life. It was a double-edged sword. I’d go to school and everyone loved me but I’d go home after a long day of practising, trying to keep my grades up and cheer at the same time with no acknowledgement from my family because they only saw cheer as the bitchy girls who didn’t let Jovan on the squad, and then started to see me in the same light. I tried so hard to impress them, invited them to every pep rally, every tournament, but it was just a silly game to them. And I guess I just stopped trying. If everyone at home was gonna act like I’m this bitchy airhead cheerleader then I might as well embrace it because I finally had a thing that was mine and I didn’t want anyone to take it away from me. He was right,” she paused to look at Brooke, a mascara-stained tear rolling down her cheek, her voice hoarse from talking, “I am intimidated by you. You’re an amazing dancer, you’re beautiful, you could be doing my job in a heartbeat.”

Brooke’s pulse pounded through her chest. Her tell-tale was heart bursting at the seams - wanting nothing more than to lean over to the girl and kiss her, just kiss her and tell everything’s going to be alright.

“I’m not surprised you don’t want to be seen with me,” Vanessa murmured, remembering why she was sat there with Brooke, reigning back from the issues with her family that shaped the way she acted, that explained away her response to the way Brooke acted when Jovan arrived home and at the dinner table. Right there in front of those who dismissed her hard work on the Amazons, Brooke had scoffed away the idea of being a cheerleader like Vanessa. She wished she was good with words the way she used to be in Toronto so she could tell Vanessa how astounding she really was, but something about the girl made English seem like a second language to Brooke.

“Vanessa,” Brooke looked at the girl next to her, shaking her head at the words she spoke, “In the words of someone I think we both admire, I’m not gonna bullshit with you. I’m sorry I made you feel like cheer was below me - I assure you it isn’t. There is nothing I want more at the minute than to be up there with you when we beat those Vixens at Nationals and make everyone so proud of you.”

Brooke watched as something in Vanessa’s eyes lit up.  

“Bring it on,” she looked at Brooke, a sort of unspoken commitment formulating between them - they would do whatever it took to win.

Brooke didn’t know whether it was because Vanessa had shown a vulnerability to her, another one of those layers that just made her seem so genuine or because of how close they were sitting, the way she had thought about her since the kiss, but whatever it was it drove her to grab the other girls hand and squeeze.

Immediate panic and regret ensured. Expecting to get a weird look from the girl, Brooke was about to pull away when she felt it, a squeeze back. Her nerves evaporated. A harmonious silence lingered rather than one of awkwardness or dead air - for the first time all week Brooke felt at peace, tranquil, with not a fear in her mind. Like when they kissed, her head was fully invested right there in the moment and that desire to hold back the sun returned. Just her hand grasped around Vanessa’s forever.

***

With Jovan still mad and not speaking to her, it was safe to say that Brooke had had ample time to throw herself into practising for her first pep rally - and throw herself she did. Every lunchtime she would have spent on their own little table in the cafeteria bitching about other students and sharing portions of gravy doused chips she now spent practising Friday’s routine - running over and over her yell until her voice would ache. Every night she arrived home and tumbled in the garden till she was dizzy and the sky was dark. Each free minute was spent researching about her new craft, watching videos with every tip and trick she planned to utilise. She crammed and crammed until nothing else could fit.

“It had all lead to this moment,” she thought to herself as she analysed herself in the hallway mirror before the game, having left the squad and their pretalks in the changing rooms to try and escape her overwhelming need to breathe. Darning the Amazon’s uniform for the first time out of the house, Vanessa was right, it fit like a glove. Her hair ice blonde hair tied up and curled in the signature blue scrunchie, only then did she realise how much the blue of her eyes stood out with the colours. Her long legs visibly pale, fear about standing out too much from the group began to sink in. She looked at her reflection and saw a fraud. What if people clocked that she wasn’t as good, what if she embarrassed herself. Her levels of anxiety rising, she began to contemplate why she’d even tried something new, something so different, so much more assertive and in-your-face than ballet when she would only fail it in the end anyway. All she wanted was to be good but the fear of letting her team down and letting herself down that she had felt early was starting to return.

Before she knew it she had crouched down on the floor with her knees to her chest. The walls were spinning like something out of a book - if she had been herself she’d have been thinking about how once again she was a teen cliche of angst yet the only thought she could conjure was that she was fucking scared.

She was fucking scared and the walls were not helping. Nor was the distant hum of people waiting for the game outside, people waiting to watch the Amazons, waiting to watch her.

She closed her eyes to try and make it stop but it was no use. The tips of her toes going numb inside her trainers, her body just stayed frozen listing to the noises from outside - willing herself to focus on something else, anything else, when she heard a voice next to her.

“Ssshhhh, it’s okay,” a bony yet comforting hand ran along her back.

Jovan. She opened her eyes, remembering where she was.

“I can’t see you perform like this, can I?” he asked her in a joking manner, only however making more tears stream down her face.

She wanted to respond but she couldn’t. Not just yet.

“I realised last week that I was a bad friend,” he said to her, “I tried to stop you from doing something you enjoyed for my own selfish reasons. And it went against everything I stood for. When you talked to me about it in the kitchen Brooke, you seemed so excited, so genuinely happy to be cheering and I was stopping you. I thought I’d best leave you alone, you didn’t need me dragging you down. Where’s that Brooke now? The one who was gonna give her friendship up to be out there performing,” he asked her, Brooke surprised that he wasn’t ignoring her because he was mad all along - he was guilty, just like she’d been about his sister.

“Remember what you were telling me, Brooke. Reign it in, thrive off it. Don’t let it take over. Just be you. Cause when you’re yourself you don’t care what other people think - you’re good at being you, Brooke.”

Although it took her a few minutes to recover, as it never just happened straight away like in the movies, something inside her snapped into gear. Never a loud person, sometimes performing was Brooke’s voice. She knew Jovan was right - she was only ever herself on stage, and so long as she was being herself then she would kill it.

“C’mon,” he gave her a hand, “Let’s take some deep breaths and get you cleaned up. I did not come to a non-mandatory school event to see any of those other bitches perform. Just my best friend.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Brooke looked at him as she gulped down some water, her voice returning.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry I even put you in that situation. I put myself in a bit of a rut over what I did but I’m here for you, first and foremost. Now go get ‘em, tiger,” he laughed, giving Brooke a playful smack on the ass.

Grinning to herself, the need to slay that she’d felt when she told Vanessa she wanted to be up there performing with her returned, Brooke was more ready than she’d ever been.

***

Her pulse thumping along with the beat, Brooke looked across at Vanessa as they stood facing the bleachers, ready to perform.

“Bring it, Brooke Lynn,” the girl mouthed to her - she did not need to be told twice.

Every move was precise, every yell was on point. Standing on her hands, the roar from the crowd pushed her to new limits. She had never felt so much energy. So alive. She was used to waiting till the end with ballet - that dreaded silence when the music stopped and you feared that no clapping would come - but with hollers all the way through, Brooke thrived off the chants, she knew this is what she was born to do. By the time she made it to her roll call, she shouted louder and clearer than she had in all of her practices - she was ecstatic. Really fucking ecstatic

“My name’s Brooke,” the girls shouted their “yeah” in response, Vanessa’s tone standing out from the group, her teeth gleaming as she grinned from ear to ear, clearly proud of her new prodigy. “Put down that book,” she pointed to the ground - a new type of confident. A new type of sexy. “Cause when I shake it, you can’t help but look.”

Any fear she had was now long dissipated - a sense of belonging filling her insides as she pushed Vanessa to the air and watched her fly. By the end of the routine, her face hurt from smiling but she just couldn’t stop.

Once all of their choreographed steps were completed, she looked out into the crowd to see Jovan front and centre, cheering for them: “Go Vanjie, Go Brooke!” The excited boy who danced to Demi Lovato in his room once again taking over the sullen kid who rolled his eyes so much they may as well be permanently lasered into a resting bitch face.

Running forward, the squad all bounced off of each other, throwing their arms in the air and screaming for the school team.

Before she could even comprehend what was happening, she felt Vanessa’s small body bury itself into hers, those chocolate button eyes gleaming up at her.

“You killed it, mama,” Vanessa beamed at Brooke - sending her body into all sorts of shocks as she wrapped her arms around the other girl in excitement.

“So did you,” Brooke responded, “And I’m not the only one who thinks so,” she pointed to Jovan in the audience - his mouth collecting flies at their performance.

After their talk the week before, Brooke felt a little part of Vanessa’s glass walls start to melt as she saw her reaction to Jovan’s presence and watched her run over to him. He was taken back at first when she threw her arms around his awkwardly lean body, but soon he started to laugh and nuzzle his hand against her hair. Watching made Brooke long for a sibling of her own, their bond clearly unbroken despite the years of arguments and silences. But most of all the sight just made her feel content. Happy.

She knew that out of every adjective known to man, happy was the least exciting. But she could think of no other way to describe her inner thoughts than as happy. A big, fat, flaming happy.

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x16 Commentary

Special episode where a bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

Hello and welcome:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies  (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon  (Kat)  

@waywardbaby  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

       * MASTERLIST of season 14 commentary * 

14x16 : Don’t go into the Woods

Giulia: Them gay vibs

Nat: Sam

Giulia: And poor baby sam

Zee: No not Sam like that again

Nat: I like that it's focused on Sam

J:  I’m me again 

Giulia: I like Jack with powers!

* turns snake to ash *  

Giulia: Not like that!

Zee: Holy shit

Nat: I feel different now

Zee: Stronger

Nat: Ew

[Melodic Whistling ]

Giulia: Benny is that u babeh ?

Zee: Yeah. They ded

Kat: Of course they are

Guy: It was nothing. Just the wind.

Giulia: JUSt tHe wInD.  OOOH THAT IS CREEPY

Girl : Okay, that -- that wasn't the wind.

-she smart

Nat: Notice that in every movie the guy says that it's nothing?

- That tells a lot about men’s priorities. Creepy whistling in a desert park at night? that pussy tho.

Guy: Dad?

-YIKES

Barbara: Hi, sheriff

-Y I K E S

Giulia: But also….Come on let them have some back seat bingo

Zee: Guys are dumb. Think with the downstairs head

Nat: Why are you going away girl?

Kat: Because she’s dumb

Zee: REALLY?? IN THERE??

Nat: Yeah. i would back out of that bathroom

Nat: i mean. Ew

Giulia: I would burn my hands in holy fire to sanitize them

Barbara: Oh, God.

Kat: Oh hell no

Zee: Every place is a bathroom IS SHE SITTING??

Nat: I would rather pee outside of the bathroom.

Kat: And she’s clearly sitting

Nat: she fucking is

Kat: Disgusting

Giulia: No woman would sit on that. THAT SO INACCURATE, who wrote that ep? *goes look at it* MEN, of course , a woman would never have wrote that girl sitting on that filth.

Giulia: Fuck that’s creepy

Giulia: Ba ba ba

Kat: So glad I stayed up to the middle of the night to watch this 🙄

Giulia: Ba barbara ann

Nat: stop giuls lol

Kat: Taaaake my hhhaaannnnndddd

Nat: So she ded

Nat: sweet hope you can sleep

Giulia: Aw look at that, the bunker looks so dark and empty. I hate it now.

D: Morning sunshine! What you looking at?

Zee: This man is huge

Nat: Porn? Nip slips?

-sex tapes??

S: The Internet is more than just naked people. You do know that, right?

Zee: Naked people

D: Not my internet

Giulia: Not OUR internet. ( oh shit let me censor the nip word before tumblr freaks out)

bla bla bla, girl, bla bla bite marks,animal attack. bla bla bla our kind of thing.

Kat: Mah boys

D: I know you wanted to take some time...

Giulia: ‘I’m gOoD’ 

S: Honestly, I-I'm good.

D: ( u full of crap) All right. Well, let's hit it.

S: You got it. I'll grab Cass.

D: Mm. He actually left. Early this morning.

Giulia: *barely keeping in a squeal*  I’m not gonna go there

...I went there

D: I don't know. Something about being cooped up in the bunker for a few weeks. We all need to stretch our legs. I get it.

Zee: What’s wrong with Deans hair?

- WHATEVER DO YOU MEAN? 

Nat: thank god i'm not the only one who notices. Thought it was just me

D: Uh...I don't want Jack on this.

D: His powers have gotten us in trouble in the past -- the security guard.

Dean is actually so right right now, but still....Jack alone?...mmm don’t like that

Kat: Look at the baby bean studying

J: Did you know Article 246 of the Haitian criminal code115  officially makes it against the law116 to turn a human into a zombie?

D: Good

Nat: Pre King hair

Kat: Too much gel?

Giulia: Lots of wax I think, gel would be too shiny

J: And...you don't want me to come?

SOBS 

D: We don't want to leave the bunker empty. In case, uh, Mom or...some of the other Hunters call and need help, so... this place is long overdue for a restock. So, uh, your mission, should you choose to accept -- made you a list.

Look how uncomfortable Sam is. 

No ones lies like a Winchester lies.

Nat: My mission is shopping

Zee: Beer again

S:  Twice? D:  Yeah.

Nat: Will he get beer tho?

Kat: Is it your list?

Nat: He's only 2 years old

Zee: He got my shopping list

Kat: True

Zee: Shut up

D: We’ll be in touch. ( let yeeeeet the fuck out )

Sheriff: I don’t see how this is FBI business

S, D: RUDE

Giulia: Sheriff’s right tho

Zee: That close up. Thank you

Nat processing Dean’s hair :

Nat: Not liking that hair

Kat: It’s weird

S: You know, do you mind if we take a look at the body?

Sheriff:  Do I have a choice?

-that sheriff has 0 fucks

D: Not really.

Dean has 0---> ∞  fucks

Giulia: AHAHAH

Nat: Seriously?

S: How long you been doing this?

Zee: Cat like reflexes

Kat: Lolol he jumpy

Nat: yeah of course lol

Nat: He scares easy he's getting old

-Another still of Dean’s hair for Nat

Giulia: Jack so rigid tho

Kat: Hey it’s an improvement over season 4

Nat: groans

Zee: The kids again

Giulia: Ugh them again

Why in the fuck there the Ghostfacers tune . NO. Also weren’t they like...broken up or something

E: The ghostfacers are cool

- eeeh

Giulia: Bambi lol

Nat: Bambi

Zee: Bamby

Kat: Why they forcing these kids on us?

Stacy: Are you lost?

- Lol like a puppy, I can see that, oh wait ....

Giulia: OMG

Ghostfacers : Winchesters still suck ass, though

Nat: Ghostfacers

E: Are they (Sam and Dean) fighting ghosts?

J ( with the worst neutral tone ever) : What’s a ghost?

Giulia: I SHOULD GO

J: I don't like to lie.Like when you have to burp, but you can't burp.

Zee: It makes my stomach hurt

Nat: you can't burp

Kat: CAN’T BURP

Nat: Dean should teach him

Zee: That among other things

Stacy walks closer with a smirk

Giulia: NO BAD KIDS

Nat: What are these kids?

Kat: Apparently not

Giulia: STAY AWAY FROM MY INNOCENT SON

Stacy: Not anymore. [shows keys]

OH THANK GOD, I thought they wanted to break in or something. I don’t trust them.

I literally couldn’t care less about the sheriff and his son sorry, byee

Giulia: I’m sorry but am I ahead of yall ?

Kat: Idk are you?

Zee: Where are you ?

Nat: lol yeah, don't know?

Kat: I’m in the store

Nat: they're in the store

Zee: 12:13

Giulia: Yeah I’m a bit ahead

Nat: Zeta is ahead

Zee: I am?

Max: I mean, living with a bunch of dudes. Their whole place must smell like beer, Kleenex, and Old Spice.

Nat&Kat:  Old spice 🤣

- I can live with that, I don’t give a shit.

Zee: Zombies are real?

J: Well, no. Not really. It's kind of disappointing.  But there are other monsters.

Nat: Jack, don't tell them!!

J: Rugaru *chuckles* That’s a funny name. Yeah

Zee&Nat: Will you be my best friend ??

Giulia: NO WILL U BE MY BEST FRIEND

Nat: HOW ABOUT NO

Max: Do you ever, like, hang out?

J: Well, we have movie nights on Tuesdays Dean usually picks. I've seen "Lost Boys" like 36 times.

Nat: AWW...LOST BOYS

Max: I mean with kids your own age.

Nat: but 36 times?

- Eh it’s Dean what did you expect 

Nat: oh god

Giulia: I’m two

Giulia: I don’t like him hang out with them

Nat: #leavejackalone2k19 #STAYAWAYFROMJACK2K19

Giulia: No but wait , maybe being with kids will help him, now that he doesn’t have a soul

Max: Well, we're going to the Stoke place tomorrow, if you wanna chill. It's this old farmhouse outside of town. No one goes there.

Nat: I'll rip your lungs out if you hurt him

J: I think I’d like that

Kat: NO

Zee: Remove your spine and hit you with it

S: Kohonta.

D: Gesundheit.

Nat: I can't get over the hair

Kat: sweet mortal flesh lol

D: You think this is our Hot Lips?

S: I mean, according to the lore, Kohonta get so starving, they spit up stomach acid.

Nat: THE HAIR

Kat: Stop staring at it

Nat: tHe HaiR

Zee: Focus Nat

Kat: Stop it

Nat: I FOCUS, ALRIGHT? on THE HAIR

Giulia: I can’t

Kat: So many dead people

Giulia: Everytime there is whistling I just want to see Benny

Kat: STOP IT

Nat: iT's JuSt ThE WiNd

Giulia: Well that’s fucked up

Nat: That's not creepy

Zee: Now you run

Kat: TOO DAMN LATE NOW

Giulia: Who the fuck fall and stay down?!

Nat: Well, yeah THAT is. Really? saliva?

Wow the weather was shit that day of shooting. Did they get sick ?

Giulia: I feel like the sheriff knows something

Kat: Kinda seems like it

Nat: He probably experienced it again

Zee: They always do

Nat: THE HAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIRRRRRR

Nat: Sam's hair is good wet though

Zee: Sam wet is good

Kat: Sam looks good wet

Giulia: He does

Sheriff: Look, I don't care if you guys are the FBI. Nobody goes in those woods without my say-so.

Giulia: Sheriff is getting on my nerves

Nat: I can't even focus, the damn hair

D: Well, we should probably do what he says.

S: Oh, yeah. Definitely.

Giulia: Awe they are cute

Nat: Third wheeling his way on the kitchen table

Zee: Is pussy block a thing? Like cock block?

E: If you two are going to kiss, can you go to the other room? I'm trying to work here.

Elliot is Sam

Nat: OH NO JACK NO

Giulia: NO

Giulia: THE FUCK. GOD DAMN IT

Kat: Oh Jack 🤦🏼‍♀

Nat: I TOLD YA HE SHOULDN'T GO

Nat: "Yeah, you invited me"

J: I like The Who.

Giulia & Kat: THE WHO

Giulia: Jack your Dean is showing

Stacy: Who?

-Oh shut up everybody knows who The Who are

Max: Oh, my aunt listens to them. They're...old.

J:  Well, Dean says any music made after 1979 "sucks ass."

Nat&Zee: Sucks ass

Max:  That's because Dean is also old.

Nat: HEY FUCK YOU, NO BODY IS ALLOWED TO CALL DEAN OLD . Except us

Kat: HE’S OUR OLD MAN

Giulia: ... [with Misha tone when is done with Jared in the bloopers] Max is cancelled.

J: unless they've possessed a human. Then, they can look like me or you...or anybody.

Zee: He’s creeping them out.

Giulia: He’s gonna freak them out

Kat: He’s gonna scare the shit outta these kids

Nat: NO JACK BABY STOP

E: And you've seen one before?

J: I’ve killed one

Kat: What if they are possessed

Giulia: If I so hear one of them saying “let’s call a demon” imma throw tables

Max: [Chuckles] Yeah? How?

Giulia: Listen MAX IS TROUBLE

Kat: They all are

Zee: Demon killing 101

Giulia: LOOK JACK IS COOLER THAN THAT

Nat: Baby Bean

Nat: I'm glad it's dark and I don't see them hair

Giulia: BUT THEY SHINE

Nat: oops, there they are

Zee: Sam squint

Kat: The damn sheriff

Nat: What is wrong with that sheriff

Giulia: ok but the sheriff sneaking to the Winchester tho.Like...badass

Nat: LiAR

Kat: Knew that was coming

Giulia: There we go

Always remember Jo and her shotgun tho

Kat: That’s my boy

Jack.....Babe....

Nat: Jack, baby, just go home, alright?

Zee: Jack baby. Stop doing that

Giulia: Don t fucking use the powers

Nat: NO

Kat: Oh shit he’s gonna use magic

Zee: No no

Nat: OH SHIT NO

Kat: JACK NO

Giulia: Mmm don t like that

Nat: JACK SERIOUSLY STAHP

Zee: Yeah. He’s fucking anakin

Giulia: Don t like that

Nat: Jack, if you don't listen to me I can not help you

Giulia: The brunette is the only smart one

Kat: He’s gonna lose control and stab someone

Nat: Yep

Giulia:  “The brunette is the only smart one” I WAS WRONG

Kat: Oh shit

Zee: Crap

Kat: Knew that was coming

Giulia: ok but honestly she went right through it

Nat: Jack baby, why don't you listen?

Giulia: He right she moved

Zee: Can’t he fix her?

Nat: They calling 911

Nat: He can't…..Oh he can

Giulia: Ok but FUCK STACY. Bitch could have stayed put

Zee: Look at him.

Nat: But like, does he still have a soul at all

Giulia: Who fucking go running around when someone is making a blade floating

Kat: Jack shouldn’t have been using his powers

E: I don't know... what you are. But stay away.

Giulia: Oh my heart hurts

Nat: Yeah, like, didn't they teach the kids not to do that? right?

Zee: Common sense

Giulia: Ok but I mean...she could have turned around. She just went like ...to him

Kat: Yup he’s going dark side

Nat: She wanted to stop him

Giulia: Again...she run into the damn blade

Nat look at this!

Zee: The way Dean says “thing” is my new sexuality

Nat: Doomed to roam the woods and whistling pfffffff

Giulia: Keeps the folks away Yeah how that ever worked

D: Like I said, we hunt these things.

Sheriff : What do you mean?

S: Kohonta, werewolves, demons.

Sheriff: Those are real?

D: Oh, yeah. Yeah. And we kill 'em.

Nat: That smirk

Zee: The smirk. THE SMIRK

Nat: Almost make me forget the hair

Zee: What hair?

Sheriff: Just the two of you?

S: We know what we're doing.

Sheriff wants to tell people.

YOU SURE FAM?

Giulia: Put them on you tube.Yeah that sounds fun

S: It doesn't work like that. Even when they know how to fight,

Zee: People die People still die

Giulia: Like..kids in spn are dumb as dirt. See...?

Nat: Dumb kid 2.0

Giulia: Dumb as dirt

Zee: Silver blade through the heart.

Giulia: Always silver blade of course

Zee: That works for a lot of things

Giulia: That’s not the meat he’s looking for

Kat: He wants the other other white meat

Nat: Every time I hear the whistling I think that the Saviours are here but then I realize that it's not The Walking Dead

Giulia: Like yeeeeah where u at NEGAN BB

Nat: my body is ready

Giulia: Mine too

Zee: Don’t go there ffs

Giulia: I wanna go right there

Nat: Raining = Wet hair.Wet boys

Giulia: Wow fuck that thing

Nat: lol how Dean carried him out with his bowlegged squat

Giulia: Nat! People are dying!

Nat: Oh give me a break

Zee: I was just thinking of that

D: You don't like that, huh?

Giulia: COME ON

D: That was like full-on "Raiders."

Nat: Yeah like ew

Nat: What is this EP even

Zee: Green goo

Giulia: that’s me when I’ll meet Misha

Awe Sammy is worried about that dumb kid 

Have some hair again Nat

Giulia: I don t trust that wound on him tho

Kat: Thinking the same thing

S: He's your son. He deserves the truth.

I DON’T LIKE THAT SENTENCE SAMUEL

Nat: Babies in Baby

D: Do what we always do.

Nat&Giulia: When in doubt...lie

Giulia: When in doubt bacon

Nat: when in doubt...eat

Zee: When in doubt , beer

Zee: Can I sit in the back seat ?

Giulia: Can I sit on him?

Zee: He wouldn’t be able to drive bitch

Giulia: He would don t worry

S: And do you think you really took care of it the right way?

D: Jack said he was fine.

Dean...he’s two

S: And when we were kids, how many times did we tell Dad that we were fine just to make him happy?

OUCH 

Nat: So will they go all Dad on Jack?

Giulia: I fucking hope so

J: How was the Hunt?

D:  Oh. Uh...disgusting.

J: I got the supplies. Except for the beer.

Dean like....THE FUCK BRO. you had one job.

J: I didn't have ID.

D: You have tons of IDs.

J:  They're fake.

Dean’s like.... he’s your son.

S: Jack... listen bla bla bla bla bla bla 

Meanwhile , Dean is having an existential crisis

Zee: Tons of ids

Nat: They're fake

Giulia: We want to talk to you about your powers. That looks like THAT TALK

Nat: Will he tell them?

Zee: One of them at least

Nat: #worried dads

D: we didn't want you coming along because we didn't want you using them.

S: Not yet. Not for now.

D: Before you go all X-Men. It was crappy of us not to tell you. You know, we were trying to be nice. 'Cause we care about you. But because we care about you, you deserve the truth.

Giulia: TELL THEEEEEEM

Nat: JACK

S: You understand that?

Zee: He didn’t say it

Kat: He’s not gonna

S: I mean, anything happen while we were gone?

Nat: YOU'RE LYING

Giulia: TEEEEELL THEM U DUMB BAMBI

Kat: Oh he’s so going darkside

Giulia: fuck it

Nat: learned it from the best

Giulia: He’s a Winchester

Zee: Fuck Shit

Kat: Dun dun dun

I’m with Dean on this... Imma get some beer. 

[ post episode]

Giulia: PROMO

Giulia: OK I DON T LIKE THE PROMO. MMM MMM NOPE

Zee: Me neither

Kat: Ugh Nick and Anael? gagging noises

Zee: Well that left me a bittersweet taste in my mouth

Giulia: I like anael tho. She looks after herself, doing her thing, work it. yas gurl get it.

Giulia: NICK THO, NICK CAN GO FUCK OFF

Zee: Such a kind spirit

Giulia: Look that was probably him with Donny ok? And I like Donny

Kat: To me, she doesn’t add anything. I don’t hate on her, just don’t know why she has to be on the show 🤷🏼‍♀

Giulia: Well that’s why she isn’t in it that much

Nat: i will watch the promo later. but what anael?

Giulia: Cas told her he needs to talk to god

Nat: but like i don’t get it? who plays god now?

Kat: No one? We don’t see him

Giulia: Ok but ...angels guys! We need more angels that are not dicks

Zee: 

Giulia: scoffs

Nat: and why should anael know since she left heaven. if anything naomi should know

Giulia: But would naomi say shit to castiel without something back? And honestly ....that bitch made swiss cheese of his brain, I doubt he want to spend time with her

Nat: anael sure doesn’t have a great rep in heaven either

Giulia: Neither does Cas

Nat: fuck I’m late

Kat: Go work.

Kat: Get that money

Zee: Bring home the bacon

Giulia: Kick ass

Zee: Take names

Zee: Well that was a pleasure ladies. As always.

Giulia: Yas. Gonna go for a run now

Kat: Burn my calories for me please

Zee: Go to sleep babe

Giulia: Also ...yay I won't spend a lot on the commentary 🙌🏻

Zee: whispers I’ll need a couple of gifs. For... science. Ya know

Kat: The smirk

Giulia: I’ll make so many Dean’s hair gif just for @Nat

Zee: That’s plain wrong

Kat: Good, she’ll love that

Giulia: chuckles right?

Zee: That hair was all kinds of wrong

Nat: NO

Giulia: Too late

.

.

. 

And y’all? did you hate those hair as much as we did? 

.

@wayward-angelgirl @destiel-honeypie     @mariekoukie6661     @dragontamerm      @closetspngirl   @rainflowermoon    @mattiecat      @bunnybaby121115  @aliaitee2   @jacks-word-of-the-day     @4evamc       @dammitsammy     @legendary-destiel   @winchesterprincessbride    @destielhoneybee    @castiellover20   @jacks-word-of-the-day  @ravenhg @evvvissticante  @legendary-destiel  @dustythewind 

[jimlingss]

I can't believe you ended chp 16 of Jp like that...i want to fight 😭

if you fight me, i’m guaranteed to be hospitalized ((look at these noodle arms)) and then who will post the next chapter on Monday? uh huuuh, that’s what I thought. Think twice before you wanna square up. (ง •̀_•́)ง

I am now answering spoiler-y messages below, so beware....

[SPOILER ALERT] 

*SPOILER ALERT**SPOILER ALERT**!SPOILER ALERT!*

Massive spoilers to come, please do not read if you have not yet read Jungle Park Chapter 16. Or go ahead and read if you’re chaotic like that.

Anonymous said: ok but what if oc and Hoseok were actually engaged....

I’m an idiot, anon - I accidentally deleted your ask before I copied it correctly lol oops, but ding ding ding! correct! you’re a winner!! i believe you sent me this message like 2 chapters ago and honestly you freaked me out by how accurate you were. dammit, I might’ve been too predictable, but you catch on quick. sorry i couldn’t answer sooner hahaha i couldn’t risk other people jumping on the same theory. you’re a genius tho, i’ll give you props for it.

Anonymous said: DATED!FOR 4 YEARS! ENGAGED! Omg wow shit really hit the fan like there is no coming back omg Wowoowoeoeoeooew I’m SHOOK like I never expected that like NEVER!!!

Anonymous said:I KNEW IT!!! i had a feeling it was either a really long relationship or they were engaged at one point. TURNS OUT IT WAS BOTH omg gahdhsjxbjsjs I'm so excited to see this all just unravel omgomgomgomg

kawaii-ing said: FhbsjshJuxYhUgrnziVJgdjsbdud JUNGLE PARK CHAPTER 16 JUST WRECKED ME YO 😱😱😱😱😱 HE KNOWS AND SHE DOESNT KNOW HE KNOWS IM SO CURIOUS FOR WHATS GONNA HAPPEN NOW Btw lovvvveeee your writing, thanks for all your hard work boo xxx💜💜

ASDFGHJKL I SAID SHIT WOULD HIT THE FAN AND I FOLLOWED THROUGH, RIGHT?? AREN’T YOU PROUD! THERE’S NO CLICKBAIT ON THIS BLOG HAHAHA 

Anonymous said: omgg 4 years? ENGAGED?? I’m ??? jut WHAT happened

:O :O

Anonymous said: BROOOOOOO! THEY WERE ENGAGED :o *insert Pikachu meme*

pikachu meme?? hahaha is that a sarcastic surprise? so you weren’t actually? lolololol :O

Anonymous said: Ahh I loved jungle park 16!! I'm so excited for the angst to come 👀 is hoseok's car accident related to oc at all?

hmm guess you’ll have to wait and see ((but also just putting it out there that if it was related that would be pretty makjang and lol im not about that life with this series))

Anonymous said: (1)oh holy hell Kina,,,my head’s hurting bcs of JP:16. ENGAGED what?? huh. now its one of my fav chapters, like 4-6 (ah those innocent cute baby steps in hoseok’s&oc’s relationship,,,not THIS). but freaking FINALLY someone spilled the beans. i love this kind of scenes, THE truth revelation. chang’s unaware of storm hes causing with his words, hoseok’s world’s simply crushing, oc doesnt know yet whats happening&dae is helplessly watching from sidelines trying to stop the catastrophe&failing

Anonymous said:(2)thats sad. i kinda can imagine what hoseoks feeling now, plagued w question that almost no one’s willing to answer, that drive him crazy.what happened? why did oc hide the truth? what did i do, how bad did we hurt each other? why can’t i remember any of it fuck. its a perfect opportunity for insecurities&ugly thoughts&inner demons to poison his mind. and oc...her house of cards collapsed revealing things she was trying hard to escape. will she feign ignorance again or will she finally face it

Anonymous said:(3)i just hope that in the end after this storm theyll reach their own peace, whatever the outcome will be. past stays in past, but only if every issue is resolved. otherwise it might return later&be worse than before. it was a great chapter. thank you — chem

THE BEANS HAVE BEEN SPILLED!!! honestly the universe is in chaos right now lol Hoseok’s like the fuck....and oc doesn’t even know lol but yeah it’s definitely a sad situation for almost all parties. there’s still more to be revealed tho, like the actual details of what the fuck went on haha anyways, i’m glad you’re enjoying it!

Anonymous said: AAHHHHH ITS FINALLY HERE!! Thank you 💞💞. Wow it was truly a lot and honestly, I feel kinda scared for Hoseok... it’s crazy that he really doesn’t remember anything and learning all this new information is like being in another word. If this story wasn’t one about love and fluff, it could’ve totally turned into a horror story lol. Thank you again and I’m very excited to see where the story goes!!

a horror? can’t say im very good at the genre but that’s definitely an interesting concept....the more i think about it....like for someone to go through something suppper traumatic and not remember at all and someone appears in their life but it turns out that someone was actually the serial killer? dammmmn that would be really interesting. i digress, thank you for enjoying it. definitely Hoseok is lost, scared, confused.

Anonymous said: SHIT’S 🗣 HITTING 🗣 THE 🗣 FAN 🗣 omg *insert “she’s meditating” “she’s dead�� meme* and the fact that this is just the beginning??? how?? what?? i’m honestly so skek for the next chapter like i dont think hoseok’s gonna go apeshit on yn but you never know now do you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ superb chapter for reals!!!! like, all of your writing is great but this chapter?? *chef’s kiss* didnt even know i was an angst fan until this chapter lol sending all my love to you!!! - chanting anon

hahhahahahhahaha there’s a lot more to unravel. now the puzzle has been exposed, we gotta start looking at the details. thank you for the message *throws chef’s kiss back* also welcome to the angst realm lol

Anonymous said: finals starts at the 20th and school ends in the 24th and we're still at chap 1 on our research. Due to stress, i thought, hey, might as well read the latest chapter bUT WHO KNEW IT WOULD BRING ME MORE STRESS. FOUR YEARS?! ENGAGED?! i feel like hoseok right now. You make such awesome stories and worlds. It affects me in so many good ways i cant even. i dont always give you my thoughts per chapter but i want you to know that i scream at every single one of them. have a nice day! - anon h.a.n.d.

oh my goodness!!! good luck on your exams!! hahah im sorry the chapter isn’t very much comfort food and kind of more wild but still happy you enjoyed it! 

Anonymous said: PT. 15 & 16?! WHAT. I COME BACK TO TWO CHAPTERS. HOLY COW. but really, like now that I know what I know, I’m so sad. I wonder what their relationship was like. That’s a lot of time to invest in someone and for it to fall apart like that... I couldn’t imagine what OC had to go through. I’m sad BUT THE DEVELOPMENT IS MAKING ME SO FREAKIN EXCITED. THANK YOU FOR GIVING US SOME ANSWERS ABOUT THE PAST. I CANT WAIT TO SEE HOW MUCH ELSE HE FINDS OUT.

I KNOW RIGHT?? LIKE FOUR YEARS IS A FUCKING LONG TIME. then again that was like 8 years ago. but yeah, it’s sad for both oc and Hoseok, y’know? I’M GLAD YOU’RE EXCITED!!!

Anonymous said: Great Jungle Park chapter! I'm pissed because SOMEONE SPOILED IT and i saw they were engaged before i could even click on the 'read more',,, but great chapter! I wish i could've read it without knowing, it kinda made me sad and it was not as great as it could have been.. @people spoiling, fuck off >:(( @you you're the best writer ily u nice keep going!! Can't wait to have Hoseok's full mind process over how crazy it is he doesn't remember 4 YEARS and an ENGAGEMENT (and only 2 dates huhu)

haha chill, anon. did you actually know that spoilers can make someone enjoy a story more? it’s actually a really interesting thing to google and find out more about. the chapter’s still the same whether you had an inkling of what was going on or not. you still enjoyed it too, right?  :D 

Anonymous said: CRAP OK, well, we knew it was something more than two days, but HONESTLY lol I love how you wrote y/n trying to keep it together. I could feel her fear as she lost control of the situation when Hoseok showed up. Do you think in her mind she even slightly expected him to show up? I'm assuming she's very internal w/ her thoughts/feelings seeing as she doesn't talk to anyone about what happened between her & Hobi all those years ago nor has she dealt w/ it, mostly just avoided it, would you say?

oh yeah oc was on the verge of a mental breakdown when he showed up rofl, damn near scared her. he was basically like a jumpscare LOL. but yeah for sure she didn’t expect him to come. i mean she basically told him and he was like ‘ok whatever’ and didn’t express interest and it’s not like he got an invite so she didn’t know he would actually go out of his way to show up. and yeah i agree, oc’s very internal with her feelings, or at least what happened all those years ago. it’s sensitive issues anyway that she’s left behind. or at least tried to.

tofugguk said: BROOO i LITERALLY— LITERALLY LOST IT. WHEN CHANGSUB DROPPED THEM BEING TOGETHER FOR LIKE FOUR YEARS THEN THE- “You guys even got engaged.” PART I SCREAMED. YOOOOO I CANTTT HANDLE THIS

Changsub isn’t the dumbass that we wanted. But the dumbass we needed.

((don’t you love how oc tried so hard to keep it a secret for like 16 chapters aka like near a year and some idiot comes trapezing in and in his first scene he just spills all the beans??? hahahha))

[tstarkapologist]

11/11/11 Writing Tag Game

Oops... @ardenskyedarcy221b tagged me in this days ago and I’m just now getting around to it, sorry

1.     How long have you been writing fanfic? Okay so technically I wrote my first fics in 2012, I wrote one in 8th grade and one freshman year. But then I stopped writing at all until January of this year when I actually started writing (somewhat) consistently. So I’m gonna say January because those first ones...should not count.

2.      Who most influences your writing style? tbh I have no idea. I don’t even really know what my writing style is. If one of you has an opinion on that and could tell me I’d appreciate it. I tend to write for dialogue and the rest shapes around it, idk if that’s helpful

3.      Favorite type of scene to write? I’m not sure if you can tell from my stories but I love heart-to-hearts. fuck man just let them talk it out, that’s all I ever want. Give me emotional vulnerability and good communication and I’ll be a happy, happy woman.

4.      What trope is your favorite to write and/or read? I guess my favorite trope to write is Peter meeting people??? Only because I’ve done it so much lol. As for reading, I am a big fan of platonic cuddles and any story of IronDad from an outside perspective. Also outside of specifically IronDad I am always a slut for soulmate!aus and magic realism (shout out to The_Blonde lol).

5.      What is one trope that you dislike? Listen. I know this fandom love whump. But. For me. I’d rather not. I will tolerate it if there it doesn’t take up that much of the fic, there’s a glorious reunion and a shit-ton of fluff afterward. But don’t give me like 12 chapters of Peter being tortured and Tony feeling Guilty followed by like 4 paragraphs of After. I’m a minor Hurt/all Comfort kinda gal. No judgment to those who love the pain! Just not for me.

6.      What AU do you wish to write but feel like you won’t manage? I swear I really am trying to write a platonic soulmate AU. It’s why I haven’t published anything in forever. I need to get this done before I can move on or else it’s gonna sit in my google docs for the rest of eternity.

7.      Do you outline, or write as you go? hahaha no. I usually just have an idea and let the characters say what they need to say about it. I kind of have an outline for my platonic soulmate AU because it’s going to be longer than I’m used to, but all it consists of is one note on my phone with a 2-10 word summary of the basic idea of each chapter. 

8.      Past tense or present tense? Why? Past, because ?????? idk I think present is easier to maintain (shout out to Iza for calling me out whenever I slip up lmao) but I also think it’s harder to do well ???? or at least for me personally it’s harder to do well. also, you better be the best goddamn writer in the world if you plan on doing first person present tense. that is the easiest thing in the world to do horribly.

9.      Do you prefer to write one-shots or multi-chapters? Why? One-shots that vaguely connect lmao I don’t like the strick structure of chaptered stories but I like having one-shots that happen in the same universe.

10.   What is the kindest comment you’ve received on a fic? (Feel free to paraphrase or generalize!) I don’t think I can pick out one single comment, I feel very fortunate to get the amount of comments that I do, and so many of them are wonderfully kind and thought out. I feel most attached to the dialogue in my stories so whenever someone says that the characters sound right or that their characterization is on point, those comments always make me very happy. And whenever I get a comment from a username I recognize from other fics I get all warm and fuzzy. People like ArdenSkyeHolmes221 or KiwisAndTea or Isi1dur, just to name a few, who I see in the comments of every fic. Just seeing a familiar username is wonderful because it means they’ve stuck around. 

11.   What is the most gratifying aspect of writing fanfic for you? Honestly the creative outlet and the fandom interaction. I’ve always had stories in my head but before fic they just stayed there. I would replay them over and over but now I have a way to get them out and that’s wonderful. And I love the interaction of fic! Before IronDad I was always a passive fandom observer, I’d leave comments on fic and art but I’ve never been a part of a fandom from this side and it’s really lovely! 

okay i have no idea if any of that was interesting and also i have no clue how many people i’m supposed to tag lmao i talk to like no one so i’m only gonna tag 2 people. @samrull @leblonde 

[gymwrites]

Second Thoughts: A Fan Sequel to First Times

[Author’s note: Final part of Chapter 8 done and dusted. I’m working on Chapters 9 (the one everyone’s been waiting for) and 10 (the wrap up). Thank you for sticking with me on this crazy ride. Do let me know what you think!

I wrote this chapter to: A New Beginning (Extended) by Alexandre Desplat]

Links to: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 (Part I), Chapter 5 (Part II), Chapter 6 (Part I), Chapter 6 (Part II), Chapter 6 (Part III), Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (Part I), Chapter 8 (Part II)

Chapter 8: Lights (Part III)

It’s quiet.

Very quiet, save for the frantic rhythm of Aliya’s heartbeat tapping out a warning that this is a mistake. As nerve-wracking as it may be, it’s a mistake Aliya is willing to make, because it feels right.

Though Aliya was certain she wanted to be on this side of the door, what to do once she followed Aly inside was far less clear. She had made it two steps past the entrance before coming to a hesitant stop. Blinking to adjust to the darkness, she notices the temperature is much warmer in here than the hallway they had just come from. It might have something to do with the memories her mind is unhelpfully conjuring up of her and Aly in enclosed spaces.

The sound of something - a glass? - being knocked over onto a hard floor shakes Aliya out of her daze.

“Oops.”

Grateful for the distraction, Aliya watches in silence, lips twisted in amusement, as Aly throws out an arm and happily slurs out “Welcome to ‘merica”. She sways and fumbles her way over to what appears to be a bedside table, miraculously avoiding knocking anything else over. The faint outline of a lamp is just visible in the corner, and a dim band of light is thrown across the room once the girl manages to switch it on.

Aliya takes the opportunity to let her eyes wander, absorbing the homely messiness that makes it obvious the lefthand side belongs to Aly.

There are clothes spilling out of a half-zipped suitcase, a chaotic smattering of makeup on top of a set of wooden drawers. A mug stamped with the words ‘Sassy And Just A Bit Bad Assy’ is rolled on its side at the foot of an unmade bed, one of two in the room. Pushed up against the far wall between the beds is a modest desk, on top of which several framed pictures are neatly arranged.

One of them looks very familiar.

Smiling, Aliya walks past Aly and up to the desk. She reaches out to brush fingertips over the glass panel of the picture that’s caught her interest. Her smile broadens as she takes in the grinning, freckled girl with the shiny metal braces, arms wrapped around her siblings, soft brown eyes blown wide and brimming with love. The image stands in stark contrast to Aliya’s old photos. Most depict the ferocious scowl she would hurl at whoever was unlucky enough to be tasked with making her smile for the camera.

Aliya can make out the sounds of Aly shuffling and rustling behind. She expects the girl to erupt in protest at her rediscovery of that particular childhood snapshot, the way she did the first time in London. When no protest comes, Aliya spins around, of half a mind to get a rise out of Aly with some well-placed teasing.

Her jaw drops before she can formulate a single word.

What is she -

Aliya sucks in a wet, ragged breath at the sight of Aly’s plaid jeans, now thrown into a crumpled heap on the bed; at the realization that Aly is dressed only in her underwear and button-down shirt.

Briefly snapping her eyes shut, Aliya reminds herself that she is nothing if not disciplined. She works to contain the dull ache that starts pulsating in her veins. Next, she resolves to not stare too much, nor to catalogue in detail the strong, shadow-painted lines of the muscles in the girl’s bare legs. She almost succeeds too, until Aly casually starts peeling her shirt off like she’s completely forgotten there’s someone else in the room.

Aliya’s heart shoots up into her throat, a tiny gasp flying from her lips quicker than she can kill it.

At the sound, Aly freezes. Realization seems to jolt through her the instant she glances up to see Aliya gaping at her. Even in the dark, Aliya catches how Aly’s features flush a deep red.

The girl clears her throat uncomfortably. “I’ll go into the bathroom to change.”

“No,” Aliya whispers, cursing how her voice cracks. She takes a step forward, only to halt with a jerk, her body and mind warring furiously over just how much closer she should get to Aly. “Stay.” A small voice orders her to at least avert her gaze to give Aly some privacy, but she ignores it and stays rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, heart straining painfully against her chest.

Aly takes a moment to search Aliya’s face with unfocused eyes. Eventually, she nods and continues the process of shedding her clothes, but it isn’t long before she encounters a new obstacle. “Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have worn this,” the girl mutters.

Aliya swallows hard as Aly’s fingers flutter uselessly over the buttons that are preventing her from just slipping the shirt over her head. She guesses by how tightly Aly is gritting her teeth that the aftermath of too much vodka is starting to kick into high gear. And really, maybe the drinks Aliya consumed herself are starting to affect her too, because she moistens her lips, exhales a shaky breath and says unthinkingly, “I help you.”

The hesitant offer barely brushes the air, and for a moment Aliya isn’t even sure she said it at all. But then Aly looks blankly at Aliya and echoes in a low voice, “You’ll help me?”

Putting on an air of nonchalance, Aliya straightens her back and strides towards the American, motioning for her to sit down on the bed. “Either you break nice shirt, or I help you take off,” she says, tone brisk and all business, like there is nothing more to her proposal than simple practicality. And it was, wasn’t it? She had already dragged Aly halfway across the Olympic Village and firmly discouraged strange attachments to lamp posts - this was just one more thing that fell under her duties as a friend.

Yes, that common duty all friends have to help undress each other, Aliya thinks sarcastically to herself.

A dazzling smile lights up Aly’s face.

Aliya lifts a brow. “What?”

“You think my shirt is nice,” the American repeats in a tone caught somewhere between gratitude and smugness.

Aliya rolls her eyes. Without waiting for outright permission, she steps closer, shivering a little as she reaches for Aly and moves into her space. Forcing herself to be calm, Aliya brushes her fingers over the top button of Aly’s shirt. She deliberately avoids any eye contact, but that hardly prevents a thrill from rushing down her spine when she pops the button open and hears Aly’s breath hitch roughly in her throat.

“Aliya.”

The breathiness with which Aly utters her name stirs something in Aliya, something dizzy and wild. She looks up to find the girl staring wide-eyed at her, and for a moment, it feels like they’re perched dangerously on the edge of an abyss, both waiting for the other to leap in first. The slow pounding beneath Aliya’s ribs grows to a painful, thudding pace. Aly’s gaze is half-lidded and hazy, and the unspoken passion in it sends ripples of heat through Aliya’s system, from her throat, to her stomach and then further down.

Aliya isn’t thinking. Only reacting.

So she lets her hands drift away from the buttons and starts sliding them slowly down Aly’s sides, drawing a gasp from the girl. She dips her fingers lower, wrapping them around the curve of Aly’s waist, timidly at first, but the tremor that races through Aly’s body quickly turns the touch into a fervent grip.

And then she leans forward to press her trembling mouth to Aly’s.

The girl is so stunned, Aliya can almost taste it. Her muscles go still, almost rigid, beneath the trail of Aliya’s fingers over her hips.

For the life of her, Aliya can’t think of a single reason why she didn’t do this sooner. It’s like rediscovering fire and the missing breath of her heart, along with every perfect thing they’d sacrificed to the distance between them.

The relief is overwhelming and makes Aliya’s eyes sting.

She tilts her head and pushes further in, shuddering at the small sob Aly releases against her. Aly’s hand flies up to cup Aliya’s face, the fingers of the other seizing the back of Aliya’s neck to tug her in with equal intensity. A wordless understanding passes between them; that if forever wasn’t in the cards, then they could at least have this moment to take back with them, to die with the memory of it branded on their lips.

Inhaling sharply through her nose so as not to break the kiss, Aliya makes short work of the rest of the buttons. She pushes open Aly’s shirt with surprising speed and hungrily runs her hands over the girl’s stomach, loving the tautness and smoothness and familiarity of her skin, reveling in the way Aly hisses at the contact and quakes beneath her fingertips.

Aliya wraps more fully around Aly’s bottom lip and sinks her teeth in. The soft moan that rips up from Aly’s throat fuels a heady mix of adrenaline and desperation, causes Aliya to dig involuntarily into the girl’s hips, makes her want more, more, more.

“Aliya - ”

Through the heated haze, Aliya hears Aly gasp her name out a bit louder. It’s the pressure of Aly’s hands against her cheeks, holding her with so much tenderness and yet somehow also holding her at bay, that snaps Aliya back to attention.

“Aliya, wait.”

Wait. Did she say…?

It takes all the discipline Aliya can muster to pull back, momentarily disoriented. Breathing hard, faces only inches apart, Aliya locks her eyes onto Aly’s: they are soft, heated, beautiful… grave. Aliya draws her brow together in a sharp frown. At once, she remembers where they are, what they were doing - what she had done - and her stomach suddenly clenches into a ball of doubt. Her hands drop from where they were clutching at Aly’s waist, as if they had been burnt.

“I am sorry,” Aliya says abruptly. “I should not have - “

“Don’t. I’m not sorry.”

Aly slips one hand down around Aliya’s lower back, giving her a reassuring squeeze and bringing her forehead to Aliya’s. With a small sigh, Aliya can’t help but to press closer, to breathe in her scent and savor as much as possible everything about this girl she’s missed so much.

“I want you,” she hears Aly murmur, warm breath stuttering across Aliya’s lips. “More than you know. But I want this… you… when I’m not - ” Aly’s head tips back, eyes squeezing together as a flash of pain crosses her face.

"Aly."

“If tonight is the last night we have together, I might regret not having you,” the other girl continues after drawing labored breaths. Her words are no longer slurred, but spoken with the emphasis of someone who has yet to recover full control of their faculties. Aly reaches up to run shaky fingers through Aliya’s hair, and a painful lump rises in Aliya’s throat. “But I know I’ll regret it more if I have you when I’m… like this. If I do have you, I want it to be right. I want to show you that I - that you - “ Aly takes in another unsettled breath. “I want it to be perfect.”

Perfect is you being with me, Aliya wants to tell her.

Instead, she just nods and whispers, "Okay."

Aliya closes her eyes and leans into Aly’s touch, shoulders sagging weakly as Aly strokes along her jaw. She isn’t aware that she’s crying until Aly lifts a thumb to gently swipe away a hot tear that’s managed to slip down her cheek.

When she opens her eyes again, she finds Aly looking at her, through her, like she sees the entire galaxy held within her depths. Aliya stares back, breath frozen, unable to believe there is someone like Aly for whom she had fallen, who had fallen for her.

The moment is broken by a sharp groan from Aly. The American lets go of Aliya, stumbles and falls back down onto her bed, as if she’s been hit by a jet of cold water. She passes a hand over her eyes.

“Ugh. I think we made a good call. If I had barfed while we - oh God. I feel like someone’s just punched me in the stomach.”

Despite everything that’s happened, Aliya emits a soft laugh. The immense heat burning a path through every inch of her body doesn’t let up, but she can feel the more rational side of her returning slowly, if reluctantly, to the fold. She doesn’t know if she’ll regret that they didn’t take things further, but she does know how to take care of a girl suffering the early onset of a bad hangover.

With practised efficiency, Aliya helps stretch Aly’s legs out and reaches over to anchor Aly’s pillow more firmly beneath her head. Another rumbling groan is all the response she gets. “Be still,” she soothes. “It will be passing soon.” She carefully works the blanket out from under Aly and tucks it around her legs (she judges it too hot to draw it all the way up to the shoulders). Finally, after reaching over to switch the lamp off, Aliya steps back to admire her handiwork.

Brilliant whitish moonlight streams through the window, spilling over Aly’s pale face and the exposed skin underneath her open shirt. Aliya tactfully averts her gaze, sweeping it instead over trembling eyelids and the cute sprinkling of faint freckles over the bridge of her nose. Breathing shallow but steady, Aly already looks to be out for the count.

That has to be some kind of new record.

The girl mumbles something inaudible and shifts, a rich tangle of hair spilling across the pillow, and Aliya’s fingers twitch with the desire to touch.

Just as Aliya is debating whether that’s her cue to make an exit, Aly’s eyes snap open. She blinks them once, slowly and deliberately, as if wiping cobwebs from her mind, before latching them onto Aliya.

Aliya unconsciously holds her breath.

“Do you think you’ll ever feel this way about someone else?” The hesitant way Aly asks it turns the question into a half-desperate plea, and it breaks Aliya.

“No.”

The hot promise in Aliya’s voice astonishes even herself, but maybe it shouldn’t have. Any other answer would have been an outright lie.

The tension in Aly’s body relaxes. “Me neither. I guess there’s that.” She sinks back into the bed, the lines in her face smoothing out. Another long silence lapses. Aliya remains standing beside the bed, restlessly shifting her weight from foot to foot. Waiting…

“Would you… do something for me?”

Aliya raises her eyes to find Aly staring again. She tilts her head questioningly, her curiosity intensifying when the girl blushes.

“I mean, only if it doesn’t bother you, and if you don’t have to be getting back to your team. I’m sorry you had to leave the party early. I know it’s not that often we get time off, and you’re here looking after me, and I really shouldn’t ask for anything more. Besides, it must be late, and you must have to get up early tomorrow for training…“

Even when done at a slower, more inhibited pace, the babbling is so quintessentially Aly and so very obviously broadcasts her vulnerability that it makes Aliya want to climb straight into the bed and wrap the girl up in a tight, protective embrace.

She doesn’t, of course.

“What I can do?” Aliya cuts her off gently, settling for inching a bit closer.

An odd mixture of apprehension and boldness appears in Aly’s expression.

“Will you stay with me?”

Aliya’s chest constricts, like there’s suddenly not enough room for her heart to pump under her ribs.

“Just until I fall asleep,” Aly says softly, holding Aliya’s gaze, as if aware of the emotional terrain her request is putting Aliya through. “If you leave now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

Silence for an interminable moment.

Then Aliya dips her head in quiet assent.

And then, she has to tear her focus away from the shy smile now radiating from Aly’s face while she quickly analyzes the safest way to do this. She considers sitting on the edge of the bed at Aly’s feet, but dismisses that as too forward. She could settle on the floor, but surmises the hardwood boards would soon become uncomfortable. Aliya swings her head around and catches sight of the round plastic chair pushed under the desk.

She can work with that.

Before she can execute her decision to drag the chair over towards the bed, she spots Aly biting her lip, still staring at her with that intense look that makes Aliya want to squirm. There’s a flutter at the base of Aliya’s throat as she swallows, and she knows Aly sees it, because the girl’s mouth curls into a knowing grin.

Narrowing her eyes at Aly and crossing her arms with a huff, Aliya tries to communicate how much she doesn’t appreciate the fact that an American has managed to reduce her to this unrecognizable, indecisive, awkward version of herself.

It doesn’t have the intended effect, because the next thing she knows, Aly is flipping the blanket open and patting the empty side next to her. Her eyes never once leave Aliya’s face.

“Please,” Aly whispers, the grin on her face slowly fading, replaced with a look of quiet pleading.

A shiver crests on Aliya’s skin. Something about how that particular word falls from the girl’s lips gives it power over her, makes surrendering herself to Aly the only viable option.

“Okay, Aly.”

With what sounds like a sigh of relief, Aly scoots over on her side to make room, putting her back against the wall the bed is wedged against.

Aliya stares at Aly for awhile longer, captivated by the soft jut of her shoulders where her shirt has fallen away. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Aliya kicks off her boots. She slips underneath the blanket gingerly, wriggling down the length of the bed as she tries to get comfortable without bumping into the other gymnast.

The bed isn’t really made for two, but it’s wide enough that they can simply share the space without touching. The stillness of the air belies the hammering of Aliya’s heart. She’s a little crestfallen that Aly appears to be respecting the invisible boundary she had felt obligated to draw between them.

Until the bed dips with a jolt.

“Aliya.”

“Hm?”

“I have to compete in event finals tomorrow.” Aly’s words are infused with slight panic.

Aliya frowns. Today is Friday -

She’s distracted by more movement, then the tickle of soft breath against her ear.

“If Martha finds out I’m competing with a hangover, she’ll skin me alive.”

Aliya turns her head to meet huge round eyes filled with worry. They’re gorgeous, and so easy to get lost in.

“I am not thinking your” - Aliya fishes around for the English term for ‘team coordinator’ but gives up - “she, is wanting your skin.”

The pillow makes a swishing sound as Aly shakes her head against it. “You haven’t met Martha.”

So the inexplicable fear of this Martha character hasn’t changed since London, either.

“Aly, I know many coach in Russia who is ten times Martha. Remember she is needing you more than you need her. You are one who is doing hard work, who will bring home the medal.” Sensing further argument, Aliya places a comforting hand on Aly’s shoulder. “And you are not needing to fear. It is Friday.” Her mouth quirks. “Your event final is on Tuesday. You are having many days to get well.”

“Oh. I could have sworn it was tomorrow,” Aly replies wearily. “Time just goes by so fast.”

Aliya is about to offer more reassurance when she’s startled by the pad of Aly’s finger carefully tracing over her cheekbones, her lips, then down the curve of her neck. Her breath stills in the echoing darkness and her eyes drift shut, trying to carve every sensation into her memory forever. When Aly’s arm drops away, Aliya has to bite down on her tongue to prevent a disappointed whimper from escaping.

“We need more time,” Aly murmurs.

We will never have enough time.

There’s only time enough for one last important concern before the girl finally drifts off into a deep sleep.

“I should brush my teeth,” Aly muffles into her pillow.

“Tomorrow, Raisman.”

“… It’s not civilized.”

Aliya shushes her.

“Sleep now.”

She counts each second it takes for Aly’s breathing to slow to a lumbering pace, making each one last for as long as possible.

-----

Time is a strange paradox.

If Aliya thinks about how she should pry herself from Aly before her teammates return, it flees from her at the speed of a falling star; each moment flames bright and meets a quick death. But if she concentrates on the way her arm is wrapped snugly around Aly’s waist, time slows almost to a complete stop.

Oh that. That had just… happened.

Thirty minutes in - or maybe it was ten minutes, or two hours, Aliya can’t be sure - Aly had rolled onto her side, putting her back towards Aliya. Without warning, she had also grabbed hold of Aliya’s hand in one swift unconscious act and wrapped it around her middle. And kept right on sleeping.

That’s how Aliya finds herself reflecting on how she got here, treasuring the slow burn of Aly’s body pressed against her front.

At one point, Aliya had thought she could hate Aly.

It was after the girl had heartwrenchingly told her she couldn’t keep their relationship going, couldn’t stand loving her anymore. It was then, that Aliya thought hate was inevitable. When it didn’t come naturally, she categorically tried to hate her, and when that failed, she vowed to at least never put her trust in Aly, ever again.

And yet…

For all the times she claimed herself distant and imperturbable, Aliya never truly doubted the fact that Aly cared for her, just as much as she cared for Aly. They were each bound to the other in ways she will never completely fathom. The pain of the past might still weigh on Aliya’s heart, but it had become impossible to bury it without also burying the best, most precious parts of herself. The two are intertwined, and she is slowly beginning to accept that.

It helps that the residual hurt seems to be fading to a dim memory; that the calm rise and fall of Aly’s breathing next to her is now layering something else over it, something that feels incredible and wonderfully alive.

Aliya does what she does next to feel alive.

“Aly,” she breathes into the darkness.

She thinks she hears a barely perceptible sigh, but other than that, Aly’s deep breathing continues uninterrupted. Still, she should make certain.

“I only let you winning silver in all-around final because I know you will being a big baby if you lose to Russian again.”

Aliya counts to thirty.

When no indignant outrage ensues, a wave of trepidation and exhilaration sweeps over Aliya. It allows words she has kept locked away for too long to well up and rise to the surface in one resurgent tide.

“Aly, I… I love you.”

It’s surprising, how much it quickens her pulse to say it for the first time, how it blocks her throat with something between a sob and a laugh. If it wasn’t so impossible, Aliya could believe she had loved Aly before they even met, before they had been given names, or shapes, or lives, because it feels like love for her had always been.

Saying it once isn’t enough. So Aliya draws the words up from the depths of her soul, releases them more fervently the second time round.

“I love you.”

Aliya tightens her hold on Aly, breathing in the sweetness of her hair, presses a light kiss to the nape of her neck.

This time, no one wipes away the lone tear tracking down her face.

-----

The second thought Aly has when she wakes to the sound of her own pained groan is how empty her bed feels. It was a miracle she’d even had a second thought, because her first was pure confusion over why little fuzzy dots were taking turns stabbing at her eyeballs with white lightsabers.

It takes another few moments before Aly realizes what, or rather who, is missing from her bed, and then she is instantly and violently awake. Her swollen bladder promptly forgotten, she stiffens, fully alert, swiveling her head back and forth like she’s at a tennis match.

The fuzzy dots in her head pick that exact moment to swap their lightsabers for raging jack hammers.

Forced to flop back down onto the covers, Aly feels her heart race, even as she tells herself to calm down, she can’t have imagined Aliya in her room last night, in her bed… it’s all too vivid to have been some crazy dream…

She sucks in a deep breath before turning her head to the side, wincing as she does. Madison is tucked into the bed opposite, fast sleep.

Aly tries everything she can to remember the details of the night before. She runs her hand over the crumpled space next to where she had woken, squished against the wall. She thinks she detects the faint indent of another body pressed into her sheets. When she squeezes her eyes hard enough, she swears a light hint of Aliya still lingers on her pillow and her blanket.

As soon as she feels well enough to run her gaze over the room, hoping it will help jog her recall, she’s immediately drawn to the English-Russian dictionary placed on top of her bedside table.

Aly frowns. That was definitely not where she left it last time. The oddity makes her reach towards it, and sure enough when she flips the dictionary over onto its side, there is a particular page with its corner folded. Dog-earing books is something Aly has always thought should be outlawed, not least because it grates on her to ruin a perfect piece of paper.

Except this time she welcomes it with a slow-spreading grin and an unexpected flood of hope.

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter if what happened last night was dream or reality, because the one word circled in light pencil on the open page in front of her confirms that it was both.

 всегда:

Always.

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Keeping promises 3

Chapter 1: https://ivartheboneme.tumblr.com/post/156118762399/keeping-promises

Chapter 2: https://ivartheboneme.tumblr.com/post/156225089779/keeping-promises-chapter-2

What did I do today? Well let’s see: instead of studying for a seminar I have later this week I wrote almost 1700 words of this fic. Oops?

Warnings: rape mention, abuse mention. Will get more explicit in later chapters.

Author’s note: the timeline is a bit different from the show. Here, Ivar was born long before before Ragnar made the deal with King Ecbert about starting a settlement. I’d say he was about 5 years old when the settlement was established. Also, the timejump in the middle of season 4 lasted long enough for the relevant characters to reach whatever the age of consent is in your country. Where I live it’s 15, I don’t know about other countries. Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammatical errors, English isn’t my native language.

Chapter 3

Upon seeing the deformities Björn had left the tent to find Floki and Helga. Soon all three of them walked in, followed by a young girl with dark curly hair. Helga immediately sat down next to Ylva and took her hands. She introduced herself while smiling reassuringly. The young girl sat down at Ylvas' other side. "This is our adoptive daughter, Tanaruz. We're going to prepare a bath for you. Can you walk?" she asked while carefully squeezing Ylva's hands. "Not very well and not on my own." "We will help you. Right, Floki?" Floki nodded in agreement.  "Of course" Björn and Floki began preparing the bath while Helga and Tanaruz disappeared again. Ylva still sat at the table. Ubbe poured some more ale and placed the mug in her hands. "Does it hurt?" Hvitserk asked curiously. Ivar glared at Hvitserk. "Of course it hurts, you idiot. Did someone drop you on your head when you were a child?" he snapped. Hvitserk blushed and clenched his jaw, clearly annoyed at the aggressive remark. Sigurd let out a sigh. Ivar turned to Sigurd, staring him down like a predator about to strike. A few seconds passed in intense silence before Sigurd averted his eyes. Ivar picked up his mug, smirking confidently at Ylva before bringing it to his lips.

Tanaruz came back first, carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms. She placed them on the table without saying a word and returned to her seat. Ylva noticed that Tanaruz kept as far away from the brothers as possible, always keeping enough distance so that none of them could reach her. A few minutes later, Helga walked in with a small basket filled with different herbs and plants. She immediately began preparing an ointment, all the while making sure that her daughter saw what she was doing. "This will help against the pain. I'll prepare something to help you sleep...” "I don't want to sleep" Ylva interrupted. Helga stopped in her motions. Björn and Floki tried to act like they weren't listening, but it was obvious that they had heard. "When I sleep, I dream. I feel their hands on me again, their knives. My knees break all over again as they bring down their tools on them" Helga bit her lip hard, trying to figure out how to respond to this.                                               “Then we will start with the bath and then the ointment for your knees, yes? And if you change your mind I’ll bring you the sleeping draught.” Just then Björn called out that the water was ready.                                                         “Then leave us. Tanaruz and I will help her. Floki, can you find somewhere for her to rest?” Floki walked up to the table, inspecting Helga’s work by poking his finger into the mixture and feeling the texture.                                                   “Well, we could make place for you in our tent, Ylva, if you wish. That way we are always near if you need more medicine for your knees and my girls can keep an eye on you”. Ylva bowed her head in gratitude.                                     “Thank you. You and your wife are very kind.” He smiled at her, a sad smile as if he wished he could do more. 

Björn walked over to the entrance and waited for the others to follow him out.   “Let’s give them some privacy.” The men rose from the table and walked outside. Ivar crawled past Ylva, pausing to look up at her before exiting. There was rage in his eyes, so powerful that she almost flinched. Then the moment was over and he was once again making his way towards the entrance. Björn looked over at the small group of women.                                                           “Helga, come find us when you’re done.” He turned and left the tent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Ylva struggled to stay still as Helga carefully rubbed the ointment on her aching knees. Tanaruz stood behind the chair, trying to brush the knots out of Ylvas’ wet hair. Helga kept her head down so that Ylva wouldn’t see the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.

After the men had left she and Tanaruz had helped Ylva to the bath that stood in the back of the tent. When they removed her clothes Tanaruz had gasped in shock. Her back was covered in scars of different shapes and sizes. Several of them vaguely resembled crosses, but it was hard to tell since they were partially covered by lash marks. Her thighs and neck covered in bruises. A thin scar that snaked around her throat could only mean someone had once tried to strangle her. There was a small swelling on her collarbone, meaning it had probably been broken at some point. Similar swellings could be found on several of her ribs. The back of her left leg was also marked with scars, from right above the ankle all the way up to the fold of the knee. But these looked different, more organized. Small lines, appearing in groups of four with a fifth line crossing them diagonally. Tally marks. Helga tried to avoid thinking about what this meant but she had her suspicions.                                                     “There, now we’re done. Would you like to rest for a while? I have to go find Björn but Tanaruz can stay in the tent with you if you’d like company”                 “I’m not going to sleep”                                                                                         “You don’t have to. But it’s been a long day and it’s still not over. If nothing else, it might be nice with a break from all the staring eyes.” Ylva reluctantly agreed. Helga went to find Floki and he carried Ylva to their tent. 

As they passed through the camp, everyone seemed to stop and stare at the odd little group. Most of them had probably already heard that her family had been part of the Wessex settlement; rumours travel fast.  When they finally reached the tent, he placed her on a small bed. Tanaruz stood at the other side of the bed, anxiously looking at Helga as she left the tent with Floki.           “Where did you come from?” Ylva asked, in an attempt to distract and calm the girl. She didn’t respond, just picked up the hairbrush and sat down next to Ylva. Tanaruz began brushing Ylvas hair again and shaping it into a long braid. Her imprisoners had never been particularly bothered with making sure her hair was well-kept, and it had grown long during her time as King Aelle’s plaything. After Tanaruz was done, she moved so that she faced Ylva, and finally spoke up:                                                                                                                         “Björn. He raided my home. Helga saved me” Her accent was heavy and she seemed to carefully think of each word.                                                           “She is very kind, I’m sure she takes good care of you”                                       “She is. Not all of them are” and with that, Tanaruz closed up again.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Helga had just finished telling the men about what she had seen.                     “We should bring her with us tonight.” Ivar said. Ubbe grimaced.                     “Don’t you think she’s had enough of violence and of that man? Why would she ever want to be near him again?”                                                                       “Because,” his eyes lit up with excitement “if she comes with us tonight she will hear him scream and beg for mercy. She will watch as sharp blades sink into his back, life slowly leaving him. Don’t you think that she’s dreamt of that all these years?” This made Floki giggle.                                                               “It is true, she’d probably enjoy that. Don’t you think so, Helga?” he asked, taking her hand. Helga shifted uncomfortably in her seat.                                 ”It might make it easier for her to sleep, knowing that justice has been done. But you should let her decide.”                                                                           “I will ask her right away” Ivar dropped to the ground and slithered outside. Helga couldn’t stop herself from shuddering as she saw his snakelike movements, she wasn’t sure she liked the way the youngest Ragnarson seemed to take an interest in Ylva. When she realized that she was being watched by her husband she blushed and stood up.                                         “I’ll go too, Tanaruz feels uncomfortable around Ivar.” She could feel eyes burning at her neck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 It was time. Ylva sat on the ground, slightly elevated by a rolled up fur. It was late and torches lit up the glade. The snake pit where king Ragnar had died was right in front of her; Ivar had insisted that she sit there so that she see could see better. King Aelle was pushed onto his knees while the crowd taunted him. Floki raised his hammer and Aelle screamed as the nails pierced his hands. Ylva pulled her cloak even tighter around her, watching with wide eyes as Björn began carving into his back. The screams made her heart race and gave her goose bumps. She was so caught up that she didn’t notice Ivar making his way toward her.                                                                            “Are you enjoying it?” he whispered in her ear. She flinched in shock, her heart beating even faster as she looked at Ivar.                                           “Yes” she answered after a moment of hesitation. Turning back to the bloody scene in front of her, she could see that Aelle didn’t have much time left.         “But that will end soon” she sighed. Her heart was already slowing down to its normal pace.                                                                                                         “Are you not happy that he is dying?” he sounded a bit disappointed                 “I am. But he is only one person…” her voice became more intense “Aelle will soon be gone, but what about everyone else? His noble visitors that he would allow to use me, king Ecbert who gave me to him in the first place. They all still live.” At her words, Ivar took a deep breath as if to calm himself. He gently grabbed her chin, making her face him again. His eyes shone with endless joy and mischief.                                                                                                    “Then I promise you, that they will die.” Before she could answer he let go of her again and slithered away to king Aelle. She saw Ivar propping himself up on his elbows, watching the king take his last breaths. Her heart began to race again.

[roomalthoughts]

06.22.2018: a letter that I will never send #4: i hope you get what you gave

I will forgive you. But I’m doing this for me. Not for you...but for me. Because I deserve to be happy and free without anyone breaking my stride. I deserve to be so incredibly happy that I can burst into millions of pieces. I deserve to be in the arms of a man who will look at me and say, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me” and actually mean it. I deserve a man who will point at God when I feel so low and discouraged and tells me to pray and leave it to the Lord. I deserve to be with a man...that I can finally see the future with and not be afraid of it. I deserve to be with a man...who will lift me up and listen to all of my nonsense and yet still look at me like I’m his world. I deserve someone who’s going to be so in love with me just like I will be in love with him. I want him and I to be so madly in love that nothing can tear us apart. I deserve a love that will burn the fire inside of my heart and fill the night with love and passion. I deserve a love that isn’t fake and useless as yours...I deserve a man who will see my worth and love the broken pieces of me without any shame and show me off to the world. I deserve roses and rainbows because I’ve walked through the storm for 22 years.

With that, I will not say that I wish you the same because I honestly don’t think you do. Why? Because life gives you what you gave to others. Meaning, I hope you fall in love with someone so deep that it drives you mad. That you can’t stop thinking about that person 24/7. That you are so deep in love that you can picture the future with them. I hope you are so happy and full of love just to find out that they don’t feel the same. That the spark isn’t there anymore and the relationship isn’t as fun as it used to be all because you became too committed. Doesn’t that sound familiar? The person you love so much just shot you with their poisonous words...that they say they wished they wouldn’t have dragged it for so long.

Ouch.

I hope you stay up late at night, thinking where did it go wrong. What did you do to make that person leave you...all alone. I hope you toss and turn and wake up with heartaches that you can barely breathe. I hope you have nightmares. I hope you feel the same fucking way and every inch of pain that I felt when you did all of this to me. Because that’s what you deserve. Your own taste of medicine.

You haven’t changed at all. You’re still that boy, who doesn’t want to get too committed because you’re scared of it. You’re too afraid to let anyone in and you push them out...making you think why you’re always so alone. I’ve talked to a few people who you’ve worked with and they all tell me that you’re not worth my time anymore despite the fact that I was thinking about giving you another chance as friends and opening the door for you so you walk into my new life. They know you from the back of their hands and have told me things that I didn’t know about...keeping secrets from me and making me think you were honest with me 100% of the time when in reality, you weren’t and that’s pretty fucking low of you to do that.

You get what you give...because that’s life for you. What comes around, goes around. Go ahead, laugh and say “nah, that won’t happen to me.” It will. Because I already paid my debts living in hell with you when I thought it was love. We all get fucked one way or another. How you treat someone will come back and bite you in the ass.

All those “sorry” that you wrote down on that letter...that means nothing to me. I couldn’t connect with you in that letter because I knew it wasn’t you. It’s all game for you. You already have a new girl in your bed, why bother reaching out to me? You have another girl who’s insane for you and has been for five years. Who likes to lie to you and make herself look like the hero. You got two girls, why do you want me?

Did I hit a nerve there? Oops.

Have I done things that I’m not proud of? Of course I have, dammit. I’ve made silly mistakes back in October through mid May with a guy at Grace. Did we do things that we shouldn’t have? Of course we did but that was in the heat of the moment. Did I let it go on for too long? Maybe so, but that’s because he had all the right touches and ways to make me feel loved and whole again. We both knew that we were playing games, but that’s what we wanted because we were both going through rough breakups at the same time. We wanted to heal each other but we did it the wrong way. Do I love him? Of course I do. How could I not fall in love with his ocean blue eyes that I would get lost in when I looked through them?

I had nothing to lose and neither did he. We both knew that it’s something that was bound to happen because we were both lonely and lost at the same time. We wanted that someone beside us late at night to listen to our nonsense. He taught me one good lesson though: To never be ashamed of who I am. He lifted me up when I felt down and brought back the same old me. The sassy, witty, silly girl that likes to have a little too much fun. That man had his own sins and struggles to deal with, but he always told me to rely on God and he restored my faith in Him. It was an incredible journey even though we were doing things that we shouldn’t have done. But that’s in the past and I wouldn’t change it one bit...because deep down, I still love him and I know he feels the same way too. However, it was a lesson that taught me good things. We are all humans and when we are in love, we do silly things.

To end this long text, I say goodbye and wish you what you get.

[junker-town]

The 27 best moments from the 2017 NBA Finals

From Rihanna, to 3-1 leads, to deleted “Cavs in 7” tweets, the NBA Finals held plenty of surprises.

Look, the basketball: it was good. But, with the exception of a wild Game 4, the NBA Finals unfolded as expected: The Warriors dominated and destroyed the Cavaliers, despite Cleveland’s best efforts.

While the final result wasn’t surprising, we did have some twists and turns along the way. From Rihanna’s appearance, to J.R. Smith’s deleted tweet, to KD and Steph’s moms dancing after a win, here are the best moments of the 2017 NBA Finals.

1. When Rihanna won Game 1

Rihanna showed up courtside and walked by Jeff Van Gundy, who was all of us when he yelled, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Things only got better from there. Rihanna’s a huge LeBron fan, so she bowed to him during the game at one point, then turned around to dab on the fans who told her to sit down. Never tell Rihanna to sit down.

Amazing. Rihanna bows to LeBron then hits a dab and small waves a Warriors fan telling her to sit down. http://pic.twitter.com/q0IyIPIbGK

— Rob Perez (@World_Wide_Wob) June 2, 2017

Not long after, Rihanna’s long time friend and assistant Jenn Rosales yelled out “BRIIIICK” during a Durant free throw. Durant then appeared to stare Rihanna down after nailing a three-pointer, though that depends on who you ask. He wouldn’t confirm or deny. But, I mean ... show me a world in which Rihanna doesn’t get in someone’s head, and I’ll show you a world in which a current NBA team can beat the Warriors.

Steph Curry tried to play it off like Rihanna didn’t have everyone completely shaken, saying that she’s never been on a Warriors locker-room playlist. Which is clearly their loss: There are few songs inspire the vanquishing of enemies like Desperado.

2. When it came out that LeBron and KD once recorded a rap song together

The track is ... something. I mean, it’s not good. I mean, it’s bad. Let’s hope these guys don’t quit their day jobs to pursue their art anytime soon.

Here's the Lebron James-Kevin Durant secret track! 1 million retweets to release the whole song! @espn @NBA @CBSSports @SInow @SportsCenter http://pic.twitter.com/4oCIEHsSJP

— Spider Studios (@SpiderStudiosOH) June 5, 2017

3. When Jay Z taught the world how to take a truly great candid photo

He’s a pro.

4. When we learned that JaVale McGee has a hairless cat named Raja

Where were you when you realized that JaVale McGee not only owns a sphynx cat named Raja, but has created an Instagram account for her?

Where were you when you realized she gets massages?

Shoutout to @sootheapp for the massage.... Mike W. has magic fingers... #sphynxkitten #sphynx #sphynxcat #spynxlair #sphynxlove #sphynxcat #spynxtagram

A post shared by RAJA (@rajathesphynx) on Mar 11, 2016 at 3:02pm PST

5. When we all got to meet LintBron James

I am not in the business of being speechless, but this sculpture made out of 30 pounds of dryer lint rendered me completely mute.

LintBron James. She said she made this out of 30 pounds of dryer lint. http://pic.twitter.com/brkeeITHYn

— J.A. Adande (@jadande) June 7, 2017

Breathtaking.

6. When the dude washing the court pulled off the most incredible scooting motion America has ever seen

But you’ll just have to take a look and decide that for yourself.

7. When KD and Steph’s moms got super amped together after their sons won Game 3

Do you know how incredible it feels to watch your son torch another team in the NBA Finals? Unless your son is an NBA player, then no, you don’t. Seems pretty great, if this video of Sonya Curry and Wanda Durant celebrating after their sons won Game 3 is any indication.

MAMA CURRY AND MAMA DURANT ARE HYPE

A post shared by NBC SPORTS BAY AREA (@nbcsauthentic) on Jun 7, 2017 at 8:55pm PDT

8. When Mark Jackson said “full steam of head” instead of “full steam ahead”

LOL! I could be wrong (gotta check the facts) but I’m pretty sure this was the greatest mix up in the history of the English language. “Play it by year” and “in egg shell sits Deio” have nothing on “full steam of head.”

Slightly related: Highly recommend saying “that train has sailed” or “whatever toots your boat” in everyday conversation. Really kicks people for a loop.

9. When Kyle Korver dunked and Draymond Green smiled

Even Draymond Green liked Kyle Korver's dunk. ( Kyle Terada-USA Today) http://pic.twitter.com/wmYb003B5Z

— SB Nation (@SBNation) June 8, 2017

Look, it’s not every day that we get a Korver dunk, OK? Even Draymond realized this was something special to behold.

10. When Steph Curry appeared to maybe pretend to poop on the court and then said he didn’t (I know, I can’t believe this is where we are, either)

There was this whole thing where Steph squatted down on the court at one point during Game 3, and everyone was like, “Oooooh Steph mimed pooping on the floor!”

So a reporter asked about it:

“Steph, I’m sorry we keep asking you about squatting, but while Draymond and Steve were arguing with the ref and one of them got the technical, it looked like you squatted down. And were you just stretching there, and what did Richard Jefferson say to you?”

“Are you serious right now?” Curry said to the reporter.

“You got to be better,” Durant added.

Sports writers, folks.

11. When Jeff Van Gundy defended Khloe Kardashian?

JVG went on this whole soliloquy about how people should stop saying that Khloe is the reason Tristan Thompson has been playing badly. JVG: not a fan of the Kardashian Kurse.

12. When Dwyane Wade showed up in a track suit to Game 4, and the internet roasted him for it

Everybody had jokes when D. Wade appeared on the sidelines dressed like Usher.

Ready for Game 4 of the #NBAFinals... @stephenasmith, @DwyaneWade & @SHAQ! http://pic.twitter.com/lcLP3FzBhd

— NBA (@NBA) June 10, 2017

13. When Draymond did or didn’t get a technical for elbowing Iman Shumpert in the head

I mean, he did. But then when he got another technical, the refs said that the first technical was supposed to be on Steve Kerr, so Draymond didn’t end up getting tossed out of the game. Which is totally fine and normal and not at all something that would make anyone suggest the NBA is in anyway (to quote Ayesha Curry) “absolutely rigged for money.”

14. This goddamn self-alley-oop from LeBron James ...

LeBron makes me hyperaware of my physical limitations. How do you DO THIS in the middle of a GAME?!

15. ... which J.R. Smith credited to the fact that LeBron is a Gatorade Baby

JR in LeBron's self alley-oop: 'He's a Gatorade baby. He was made in a lab somewhere.' http://pic.twitter.com/41CEC3Trfx

— Sports Illustrated (@SInow) June 10, 2017

What on God’s green Earth is a Gatorade Baby, J.R.? The “made in a lab” part I largely agree with, given what LeBron can do, but the Gatorade part is giving me pause. Maybe J.R. is referring to those 90s ads where Mia Hamm ran around to that “Everything you can do I can do better” song.

Or maybe this doesn’t make sense nor mean anything, but we’re going to roll with it because it’s J.R.

16. When the third quarter of Game 4 turned into a WWE match

LeBron and KD mouthed off at each other, Draymond almost got ejected ... we were one metal ladder away from Undertaker coming out of retirement to drop Kerr with a piledriver.

17. When the Warriors blew a 3-0 lead and the internet exploded with 3-1 lead jokes

They wrote themselves. And namely consisted of: Remember that time the Warriors blew a 3-1 in the 2016 Finals with the first-ever unanimous MVP?

18. When Draymond basically called all of Cleveland stupid

I mean, if you’re going to play games like WWE matches, you can’t begrudge Draymond for really leaning into his role as a heel.

Cavs fans don't like Draymond. The feeling is mutual.

A post shared by SB Nation (@sbnation) on Jun 9, 2017 at 10:32pm PDT

19. When Snoop Dogg showed up to Game 5 dressed like Merlin

Maybe he didn’t get the memo that D.C. wasn’t in the finals, because he was doing his best Wizard impression.

Snoop x 40 Water x Stephen A http://pic.twitter.com/dWMcogXFDk

— Bay Area Sports Guy (@BASportsGuy) June 13, 2017

20. When LeBron dunked KD through space and time back to Oklahoma City in Game 5

The laws of physics don’t apply when you’re LeBron James.

21. When David West and Tristan Thompson got into a fight and accidentally kissed in Game 5

Things got heated on the court when West rebounded a layup that Kyrie missed in the second quarter of Game 5, and then Kyrie tried to take the ball back. West snapped, then Thompson got involved, and then all hell broke loose when the two big basketball men appeared to kiss each other before refs and teammates separated them.

The Bachelorette might’ve gotten pushed from Monday night because of Game 5, but at least we still got a make out. It raised the very important question: Is kissing on the court a technical foul?

22. When the intimate moments continued, and Draymond caught Klay and held him up in Game 5

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna turn around and desert youuuu...”

23. When the Warriors pulled away like a getaway car leaving a bank, went up 122 to 110 with three and a half minutes left, and we were all like, oh, that’s right. The Warriors have Kevin Durant. And this is all over. And it’s ending just the way we thought it would, only one game later, so we still got to make our 3-1 lead jokes, and now we can all go to sleep and wake up next June when the Warriors are in the Finals again

^That’s all I have to say about that.

24. When Wanda Durant also deserved to get a ring

KD and the real MVP ❤️ http://pic.twitter.com/LSPNrz00nO

— SB Nation (@SBNation) June 13, 2017

25. OK, fine, here’s a celebration picture because KD’s mom is in it

Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

26. And the best GIF of all time, maybe

When it’s a school night but ur parents let u stay out past ur bedtime http://pic.twitter.com/yUP8jMvXMH

— Pete Blackburn (@PeteBlackburn) June 13, 2017

Congrats, Warriors, on the basketball.

27. And finally, here it is, the best moment of the Finals: When J.R. Smith tweeted and then deleted “Cavs in 7”

Minutes after Game 3 ended, a tweet appeared on J.R. Smith’s timeline that said “Cavs in 7.” He or someone else deleted the tweet after it had racked up close to 40,000 retweets.

In the parking lot after the game, J.R. claimed he was hacked (classic) but that he agreed with whoever sent it.

Who knows. Maybe J.R. sent it. Maybe J.R. was hacked. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because that transparency — whether it was Russell Westbrook’s pettiness, or Draymond’s taunts, or the Celtics showing up to Game 6 against the Wizards in D.C. wearing all black — was what kept us on our toes this NBA season. We all knew what would happen. We all expected to be here. It was the little dramas, the glorious gossip, the deleted tweets that gave it life.

So here’s to next season. The Warriors just dunked on a year’s worth of 3-1 lead jokes, and it’s hard to imagine a world in which we don’t find ourselves right back here when June comes around again. So, to that I say: Cavs in 7, Gatorade babies.