#they’re nosebleeds but i actually don’t care

[gltzpzy]

YALL.

aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

yall don’t know how long i’ve fw sza bro she was one of my first fave artists ever AND IM GONNA SEE HER BRO WTF😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i was ranting to my sister abt how badly i wanted them since she first announced them and bro. she bagged me a ticket (i unintentionally paid her half bc she said it was for groceries nd she knows if she paid full id feel so bad lol bro but obviously i’m paying her back the other half) for 200 bro wtf😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

i’m gonna actually cry yall don’t know how much i love sza she’s pulled me thru so many heartbreaks bro SHES MY EVERYTHING AND IM GONNA SEE HERRRRRRRRRRRRR RAHHHHHHH I STILL CANT BELIEVE IT I WAS LITERALLY JUST COMPLAINING A COUPLE HOURS AGO ON HERE THAT I WASNT SEEING HER BRO WHAY

[ziptiesnfries]

The Interrogation, part 1

Ambrose and Roux are back! This isn't necessarily in-line with what I've written for them previously, but no context required - just that they've never met before in this one :)

CWs: torture, interrogation, broken fingers, nosebleed, blood, creepy whumper

It’s been hours, and Roux can feel their resolve starting to wane. Their body aches, their ears ringing with the questions they’ve been asked over and over: Who sent you? What was your mission? At first, they were creative with their answers, or at least snappy: Your mom, asshole. Who do you think? But now they barely have the energy to speak at all, their body limp in the chair they’re strapped to. Their head hangs, and they stare at the dried spots of blood their nosebleed left on their lap, regretting that they took this job in the first place.

The mission was supposed to be easy. Break in, steal a file, bring it to the client’s meeting place. Simple enough. Roux doesn’t even know who the client is—that’s not their business. They and their team just do what they’re hired for. There are risks, of course, and Roux knows that. Capture is one of them. And torture … well, that’s an inevitable follow-up to capture. But usually, they’d have some kind of warning about that. The client didn’t mention anything like this.

For now, their two torturers are leaving them alone—conferring, planning their next move, maybe—and it’s a welcome reprieve from the pain. Roux enjoys it while they can. They wonder if their team is on the way to rescue them yet. Roux certainly isn’t anywhere close to escaping. They flex their limbs against the restraints, their skin still raw from struggling. There’s no way they’re getting out of this chair on their own, much less this building.

They let out a shaky, measured breath. They’re sure the team is working on an extraction plan. All Roux has to do is survive until then.

A door creaks open, and Roux flinches, becoming alert. “Well? How’s it going?” asks a man’s voice, far too casual about the violence involved in this situation.

“They’re not talking,” one of the torturers replies, sounding annoyed. Roux counts that as a win.

“Really?” Roux tries to track the man’s footsteps by listening, unwilling to crane their neck and make it obvious that they care. “I thought you would’ve gotten something by now …”

His footsteps are getting closer, and Roux tenses, lifting their head. The man appears in the corner of their vision, an alarmingly tall figure in a navy blue suit. Roux assumes he’s the guy they were stealing from—he seems to be the one in charge here. A businessman, maybe? Someone vaguely important? Roux doesn’t keep track of that sort of thing. Besides his height, he doesn’t exactly look menacing—but looks can be deceiving. Of all people, Roux should know that.

He scans them over, his eyebrows shooting up into a swoop of blond hair. “This little thing?” he asks, glancing over at his men. “This is the intruder?”

Roux glares at him, but otherwise, they don’t react. They’re used to these kinds of comments. At 4’11”, with thin, freckly limbs, they don’t look like a threat. Hell, they hardly even look their age. Most people don’t take them seriously, and this man is no exception—despite the fact that they nearly got away with stealing from him.

He leans in with a smile, hands clasped behind his back, his face inches from theirs. “Tell me,” he says in a low voice. “What’s a little thing like you doing sneaking around in my buildings?”

They pause for a moment, as if they’re thinking about actually answering. Then they spit in his face, the glob of blood and saliva landing squarely on his chin. “Fuck you.”

His smile disappears as he flinches back, the glob dripping down his neck. He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes it off, regarding them with a calm, oddly blank expression.

They glare straight back at him, but the complete lack of reaction sends a chill down their spine. Still, they refuse to break eye contact, refuse to squirm, as he continues to stare at them.

Finally, without taking his gaze off Roux, he says, “Leave us.” The two torturers vacate without question, closing the door behind them. Despite themself, Roux tenses, bracing for pain.

The man tosses aside his handkerchief, still watching Roux. The edges of his lips quirk up, slowly widening into a smile—a genuine, warm-looking smile. Roux continues to glare, even as their shoulders tense up, their stomach twisting into knots. He looks almost friendly now, and the sheer unexpectedness of it makes it worse than any raging outburst. “I almost forgot to introduce myself,” he says, as if they were just having a casual conversation. “I’m Ambrose—Ambrose Lacrosse. What’s your name?”

That’s a pretentious fucking name, they think, and only their own instinct that something is very wrong here keeps them from saying it out loud. For hours, all they’ve been asked is what they came here for, and they thought the man they were robbing would want to know the same thing. Why does he want their name?

Still with that smile on his face, he steps forward, tracing his thumb across their knuckles. It’s so unexpected that they flinch, curling their hand into a fist, but that doesn’t deter him. “You look so delicate,” he murmurs, fascinated as he runs his thumb over the bony ridges on the back of their hand. Their skin crawls—both at the sensation and the feeling that he’s examining them like an insect pinned to a corkboard. His eyes dart to their face, his fingers grazing the crackly dried blood on their chin. They jerk their head away, and he lets his hand fall, unfazed. “Well, clearly you’re sturdier than you look,” he muses, going back to stroking their hand. “Regardless, I’d rather not have to break anything, so I suggest you answer my question.”

His tone is so casual, his touch so gentle, that it takes a moment for Roux to register it as a threat. Icy coldness creeps into their veins. “Why do you need my name?”

He shrugs as he continues to stroke their hand. “It’s only polite.”

They’re still glaring at him, trying not to let on that his touch is making their skin crawl. It almost feels worse than the beating they got earlier. Violence, they can handle—but what the hell is this? “I'm not polite,” they retort.

“I can see that.” He maintains his smile as he presses his hand into their curled fist, crushing their fingers against the arm of the chair. It’s not enough to hurt yet, but Roux can feel the small bones grating against each other. Ambrose lowers his voice, leaning in. “So don’t make me ask again, sweetheart.”

They feel a flare of anger at the casual pet name—like they know each other or something. Condescending ass. Like hell they’re giving him their name.

Suddenly, his fist slams down on top of theirs. They hiss, their hand uncurling. He pins it flat and grabs their pinky. Before they can react, he yanks it backwards.

Pain explodes in their hand, a choked scream escaping their throat. Their wrist jerks involuntarily against the restraint, but his hand is still wrapped around their broken pinky and the movement makes it worse. They fall still, panting through gritted teeth.

Still with that pleasant smile on his face, Ambrose leans in. “How about that name now?” he asks softly. They glare at him, opening their mouth to curse him out, but they stiffen as he caresses their ring finger. “Unless, of course, you want another broken bone? I’d rather not have to, but …”

They don’t want to give in, but the panic that seizes their chest makes their decision for them. “Roux!” they blurt out. “It’s … it’s Roux.”

He smiles, his hand dropping away. “Roux,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out, like he’s just as fascinated by their name as he is by their small hands. Suddenly his eyes light up. “Ah! I get it.” He ruffles their red curls, tucking a loose coil behind their ear. They flinch away, their skin crawling—they hate it when strangers touch their hair. He says something in French, and seems disappointed when they stare at him blankly. He shakes his head and switches back to English. “That’s very on the nose; you must have chosen it yourself. It suits you.”

It’s their code name, although by now, it might as well be their real name. They haven’t been called anything else in years. They like it well enough, but they hate hearing it in his mouth. “Fuck off,” they snarl.

He tilts his head, like he finds their swears endearing. Maybe he does; they can’t make sense of him. “Are all redheads this feisty, or are you just unique?”

Their hand throbs with pain, and they want to slump down in exhaustion. The torture took a lot out of them, but not quite as much as talking to him has. Still, they muster the energy to continue glaring at him. “I bet not all redheads would rip out your throat with their teeth.”

His eyes light up. “I’d love to see you try,” he says, like he’s truly curious to see what they’d do if he set them loose. What a goddamn freak.

They lean forward. “Why don’t you let me out of this chair, then?”

For a moment, he looks like he’s considering it. Then he laughs, roughly patting them on the cheek. “Nice try.” He leans in, head tilted, fondness in his eyes. His thumb brushes the dried blood on their chin, and before they can flinch away, he grips their jaw. “You’re lucky you’re cute, sweetheart, otherwise I’d just have my men kill you,” he says softly. “As it is, I’m not quite sure what I want to do with you yet.”

Their blood runs cold, and they find themself unable to pull away. If he wanted them dead, they could handle that. They could spit in his face again, curse at him, or at least stall until their team shows up to rescue them. But this? Him wanting them alive feels far more dangerous than that.

Before they can think of a response, he releases them, straightening up. “Well, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” he says casually. “I’ll let you rest in the meantime. Poor thing, you look exhausted.” He gives them a sympathetic look, and they genuinely can’t tell whether or not he’s mocking them. But then he’s gone, patting them on the head on his way out the door.

For a moment, they’re frozen, still processing the interaction. Slowly, they slump down in the chair, dread settling over them. They’ve got to get the hell out of here—before he figures out what to do with them.

part 2 - Masterpost

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Hi, sorry I don't know if this counts as a prompt of not? Anyway I saw that you reblogged smth about what happens when you lose .5L of blood, 1, 1.5, etc, so I was wondering if you could maybe give a guide on what kinds of injuries would result in different amounts of blood being lost?

Hey Anon, I am very flattered that you think I have that level of medical knowledge/understanding! However, I am merely the ‘prompts guy’ so if you’re looking for actual accuracy/realism with peoples limits, I truly don’t have the authority or knowledge to be able to give you a concise explanation or guide on what specifically can lead to those levels of bloodloss.

However I do strongly recommend checking out, or dropping an ask to, @macgyvermedical! They run a fantastic blog where they use their medical training to provide advice/answers when writing realistically. I often scroll through the blog myself, and they take great care with their answers!

(Of course If anyone else has any information on this topic, please feel free to share in the reblogs/replies!)

But if you’re looking for some starting points, I can happily provide a few, though I’m worried they’re a little misinformed/loose based on what I could gather online:

When starting off light you could probably get away with a heavy nosebleed/shallow slash to the body.

Its to my understanding (and minor experience) that head-wounds bleed A-LOT - and often regardless of depth.

Severe bloodloss would likely be a result of a severed/nicked artery or internal bleeding as a result of trauma to the body. Similarly I’d assume an impalement would be pretty traumatic to the body, considering all the damage it would do on the way in/out.

I’d say that middle ground for bloodloss might be a result of untreated cuts/poorly bandaged wounds.

It’s even difficult to classify a GSW, as it depends where your character is shot to determine the level of damage/bloodloss

[wheeler-things]

Man, I’m never going to write it properly because I don’t have the patience or time, but one day I’m going to talk about my Crazier Things roleswap au.

Where—

Joyce kicked Lonnie out much earlier, and, instead of getting work at Melvald’s, decides to angle for a better paying job at the police station. Nobody believes she can handle being an officer because she’s Joyce Byers and she’s tiny and lbr a woman, but through her ferocious tenacity when the safety of her boys is on the line plus a pathetically slim pool of applicants (and the fact that I am the god if this au and I want her and Hop to swap roles because I’m swapping all the mains), eventually she’s brought on in a trial capacity. She ends up sticking around when her skills as a detective become apparent (yes, she still faces sexism in the workplace on the daily, but she is legitimately good at her job).

Meanwhile, Sara died when she was 2 or 3, so Hop’s divorce happened earlier. El wasn’t an experiment in this au (though she does have latent powers), but through some situation, Hopper ended up with El being shoved in his direction when she was a toddler. He wasn’t really in a fit place to care for her, but (for whatever reason that I have not and will not figure out) he ends up adopting her anyway. He moves the two of them back to Hawkins, and picks up a job at Melvald’s, because it’s what’s available at the time. Because all the stress doesn’t actually help his substance abuse issues (and because I need a reason for other people to doubt his sanity/perception a la s1 Joyce being doubled), he still drinks too much, and he’s not in a very mentally healthy place at all, but he’s trying his best.

Mike Wheeler might only be a little kid, but there’s already something weird about him. Even as a baby, he gets chronic nosebleeds. The lights flicker when he’s upset. Sometimes, the tape suddenly skips to or repeats a song that he loves, despite nobody touching the tape deck. Ted doesn’t notice any of this as more than a strange coincidence. Karen does her best not to think about it, but she can’t help but worry about her son.

Mike and Will still meet on the swings when they’re 5, and within the day, they’re best friends. Within the week, they also meet El, and the three of them become best friends.

The summer after Kindergarten, Karen takes Mike to see a doctor because she’s worried that his chronic nosebleeds haven’t stopped. That’s how he ends up on Brenner’s radar. And just before the start of first grade, Mike Wheeler disappears without a trace.

Max moves to Hawkins that October, and she becomes El and Will’s friend pretty quickly (she also gets a front row seat to the slow progression of the two of them losing more and more hope that their third best friend— who Max never met but knows everything about because both talk about him constantly— is ever coming home).

Karen obviously fights to look for her son, and the searches go on for months, but they find nothing. With her money and connections, Karen actually gets the current police chief kicked out of the position, because she doesn’t believe he’s doing everything he can to find her son. That’s how Joyce takes on the role of Police Chief because she might be the best detective the station has, but she’s also a woman so the thought is that Karen will probably get HER fired as well which for totally unknown reasons is the most palatable option to a bunch of people with power over the station (//sighs in sexism). Joyce actually listens to Karen, though, and is as transparent as possible about the search, even though it’s very cold at this point, so despite being dissatisfied and upset, Karen at least believes Joyce is doing her best. And that’s how Joyce ends up police chief.

Mike’s disappearance puts added pressure on the Wheeler house, so Nancy ends up acting out more for attention which is how we get Nancy in Steve’s canon s1 role as the popular party girl (though she’s still Nancy— smart as a whip and ambitious as hell, it’s just hidden better). Meanwhile, Jonathan ends up in her canon nerd role (he’s studying hard for a full ride to NYU!) with Barb as his best friend. And Steve… well, Billy showed up earlier with Max, so he got to work putting Steve down long before Steve’s rep was secure, and Steve is now something of a loner. He’s still a jock, but he does solo stuff like track instead of team sports. The upside is that this means he and Robin (who mayyyy or may not be the cool anti-establishment teen running this universe’s Hellfire Club, when the canon era starts) became friends earlier.

Steve and Jonathan know each other loosely, and are assigned to do a project together (Jonathan’s a nerd who’s taking a class above his grade level and Steve had no friends in the class so they got paired up by default), so Steve goes over to Jonathan’s house and sees Will, El, and Max huddled over their first dnd manual. Somehow (Steve doesn’t remember exactly how, but he’s pretty sure El and Will’s twin puppy dog eyes had something to do with it), a simple “oh, dnd, huh?” comment turns into thirteen year old Steve agreeing that the kids can use his place as a quiet place to play (his parents are never around anyway), and maybe he’ll get his cool friend who knows how to play to stop by and help out if they need it, and telling Joyce that it’s fine he wouldn’t mind babysitting because, really, he’s really bored a lot of the time in his big, empty house. And from then on, Steve’s place is this version of the Party’s Wheeler Basement.

Lucas shows up in fourth grade, and joins the Party. Obviously this changes his dynamic with Max— they get a slower burn in this one (and I’m still undecided whether it would ultimately end with El/Lucas/Max or Dustin/El), but he gets accepted really readily.

So… on November 6, 1983, the Party bikes home from Steve’s place after a session, and El vanishes (which is Will’s actual worst nightmare because now BOTH of his Kindergarten best friends have vanished without a trace). This leads, ultimately, to Will, Max, and Lucas going looking for El in the woods the next night. They don’t find her, but they do find a very bewildered boy with black, shaved hair and dark eyes, with the number 014 tattooed on his wrist.

[the1975attheirverybest]

I really don’t care if someone goes to multiple shows because it’s there money, and they’re entitled to go to as many as they want, but I’m so tired of it being the same group on the barricade at EVERY show, I can put a name to every face on the barricade, as well as their Twitter usernames, that doesn’t seem fair. Especially when they travel to other countries that hardly get any shows. There are like 40+ American dates (including festivals). Why did they feel the need to travel to the Paris show and camp out on the street for 2-4 days when the venue had a 2k capacity? 

They don’t care and just call others jealous for daring to say anything, but it’s not about that. It’s the fact that other fans, particularly local ones, don’t stand a chance against them. One of them literally told me to “cry about it” and that people can camp if they want to…when you start the queue several days in advance, no they can’t. I know I definitely can’t. I have a job, I go to school, I have other obligations and responsibilities. I’m fine with lining up the day before but any more than that shouldn’t be necessary or normalized. 

Again, my issue isn’t them going to multiple shows, it’s the fact that they turn it into a competition, especially for the shows outside of NA. Finsbury was a huge crowd so that’s fine, but Paris just rubs me the wrong way.

Babes, I’m so sorry. Sending you hugs. 💓💓💓

I know exactlyyyyyyy what you mean because I got into it with one of them. I said exactlyyyy what you said. Cuz the Paris thing REALLY got to me. Because, like you said, it’s only 2000 capacity. And I’ve been seeing French fans talking about how excited they are because the Notes tour got canceled and the boys haven’t been back since. So it’s been YEARS. imagine then seeing those spoiled people at barricade???? Not one of them is French/ a resident of France.

I have a ticket for GA in Baltimore. Do you know how much its going to cost me? Not the ticket alone, that was a different thing. But I’m going to have to travel from another area of Maryland to Baltimore. That’s 2 hours. To stand in line, which is probably gonna start THE DAY BEFORE the show. Not because it HAS TO. The Baltimore venue is one of the smaller venues they’re playing actually. But because fans like these do this on purpose. So, I have to take time off work. Which is already a big deal. Find and pay someone to watch my dog. Then the things I have to spend on like a hotel, food, portable chargers etc to be safe and comfortable in line. Look up Baltimore. It’s a dangerous city. Alllllll that and I haven’t even stepped foot into the venue yet, lol. And then do it all over again the next day as I go back home. DOES ANY OF THIS SEEM REASONABLE?!

I told them that and they were just like “don’t get a GA ticket then. If you can’t do it go sit in the nosebleeds.” So it’s more normal for you to behave like complete lunatics than it is for me to come to the show the day of, walk in, get a decent enough spot, enjoy it, and go home?!!!! Did your mama drop you on your head when you were little?!!!!! Then they shame us for not having enough money.

Bullshit. Their behavior is unacceptable and we’re not gonna pretend like what they’re doing is aspirational. They don’t have the right to go to this many shows and steal spots from people who will not afford to do this again. Fuck them all. Each and every one of them.

[gisenchy]

drinking from a poisoned well (from my tinyletter)

I wonder if I will ever stop trying to find myself in the culture I consume. I also wonder if the culture I consume is as much of a mirror as I think it is - does it have anything to do with me? Does it reflect me? And by reflect I mean does it tell you something about who I am, what matters to me, what I stand for? 

Kanye West recently released his album Donda. As a reformed Kanye West fan, I’ve tried to find the words to describe the dull yet pulsing ache I feel when I think about his music and the impact that he has had on my life, whether I like it or not. I’ve issued a blanket mute to anyone I see posting that they are listening to his album...an album which I don’t need to listen to to know that it isn’t good. But more than the quality of the music itself, I don’t need to listen to the album because I don’t need to support his public alignment with accused and convicted rapists and sexual deviants, homophobes, anti-Semites, and misogynists. I have several problematic faves, but I don’t have 1 hour and 48 minutes to find out if anything on Donda is worth seeing past the list of collaborators, and the glaring lack of women in an album dedicated to his late mother. I don’t know the answer, I don't want to know, and I don't want to care.

Maybe that is the name for that dull, pulsing ache. Care. But not in the sense of, I care for you. In the sense of somehow this affects me with clear undertones of I wish it didn’t.  Like seeing an embarrassing photo of yourself from years ago. Or like this week, I got a request from someone who asked about Fly Art prints. Toni and I have only spoken publicly (lol) about the slow death of Fly Art once and it is as simple as the two of us not being interested in the project anymore and also as complex as my (I can’t speak for Toni) relationship to the music and artists that I love and follow. 

I have loved rap music for a finite amount of time. I think it came about as a result of having dabbled in dance, and also my appreciation for a good fucking beat. I admired the brashness with which a rapper could admit their (though it was often his) faults while also boasting of their success. As a very self-conscious yet vaguely confident (in the right context!) person, I saw myself reflected in the tricky balance between humility and the skill of embodying my own self. I promise! I am! So self-conscious. Rap, and by extension hip-hop fed my soul. When I first moved to Sydney, I attended a Yeezus show in total nosebleed seats. Kanye played the intro to Runaway twice after asking who in the audience was hearing it live for the first time. It was one of the best concerts I had ever been to. I still chase this same feeling: the distance from the stage bridged through shared, mutual adoration. 

I leaned on Fly Art as part of my personality until the proverbial reed broke. I thought it made me cool and influential. I loved the attention so much. And it was fucking fun! Until we tried to make money off of it (We succeeded though) and it became a job. It was no longer fun, more than a cool hobby that made me feel cool and popular. And I just stopped listening to hip-hop. My taste in music changed, and it seemed that every rapper I admired was on a mission to remind me they were straight cishet men doing straight cishet men things, including:

Denying the existence of slavery, supporting one of the actual worst presidents of the United States, which is saying something considering they’re all fucking hacks (Kanye West)

Appearing to have groomed young women...and giving R FUCKING KELLY A WRITING CREDIT IN 2021 (Drake)

Threatening to boycott Spotify if they didn’t return the music of someone who abused their partner (Kendrick Lamar for xxxtentacion, weird tbh)

Fighting with women who were trying to encourage the general public to read??? (J. Cole, in an odd bid against literacy)

Featuring Chris Brown (unfortunately too many to name)

In summary, just a lot of stuff that left a bad taste in my mouth and left me questioning what I had signed up for. What my support meant. Worse, what did my profiting off of the work of black artists say about me across the ugly ugly backdrop of gender-based violence, systemic racism and police brutality? The slow death of Fly Art was really just the same story over and over again: people change and they indeed realise things. They do not condone misogyny and misinformation, which I strive to do. I also cannot stand albums longer than 16 tracks. Who even has the time?

That isn’t to say I don’t listen to any rap or hip-hop music at all. There is still a lot of it on rotation!!! But I can’t think of anything more exhausting than seeing Donda on my feed multiple times. I don’t have to listen to the album. I cannot believe how hard I stanned this man. Part of my disgust and anger is definitely directed towards me. There is an endless bowl of shame in there. I often call myself a “reformed Kanye West fan” because there is so much of his music that I love. And I resent him so deeply now because the more he continues to do *gestures vaguely* whatever this is, the more poisoned the well feels. 

I understand that it is possible to like problematic people and to support artists or people in general who aren’t perfect. It is inevitable that everyone has fucked up at least once in their life. It feels like I’m reliving a cycle of disappointment that I feel for myself when I make a mistake or when I am unkind. Ha, maybe the point isn’t to find yourself in what’s out there, but to find it (speak to the manager) within. Maybe I just feel envious of people who are able to separate the art from the artist? 

On the other hand, fuck that. There is a line. In a world that is rapidly taking away a woman’s right to her own body, where we are constantly in a deluge of violence of all sorts from men in power, I cannot believe that people I know are still listening to Kanye West! Openly!!!! Is any gesture of support worth the pain inflicted by the men I mentioned above? There will eventually be a time when I stop drinking from this bowl of shame, alienation and just straight up anger, but at the very least I know my answer. I want people to know that this shit doesn't sit right with me, because how else can we demand for something better? That’ll be enough. It has to be enough. 

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 4

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER FOUR: KESLA

Darwyn’s small enough Shay can carry her in cradled in the crook of one arm while she’s holding Ashsong’s sword low and wary in her other hand, not convinced we’re safe even though the young guard clearly looked human.  The halfling’s in a hell of a lot o’ pain, wincing with every jog even though the half-orc’s definitely moving careful to make the ride smooth as possible for her, but ‘least she ain’t passing out instead.  It’s a better sign, at least.  But that wound … I seen ones like it before, and she’s in a bad way.

I lead the way through the doorway, crouching low with my own sword gripped tight in both hands, cuz I ain’t taking any more chances than my friend, even if I did recognise the girl.  I just saw those nightmares ooze outta a near dead kid just outside this room, and it was only Krakka’s quick thinking made sure we didn’t all suffer the same fate as every other poor bastard we found so far in this place.  Suddenly meeting a healthy live one in here don’t put me much at ease.  I’m paranoid as hell right now, but that don’t mean I don’t have cause.

Leaning my shoulder to the door, I give it a gentle push to open it out the rest o’ the way, then step into the room beyond.  It’s darker in here than it was outside, but I realise now that having Lady Naru’s fancy lights right now might actually have made us walk right on by without noticing candles burning under the door as we passed.  Yes might’ve picked up on the new scents in time, but given the pervading stink of death in here that even I can’t miss I wouldn’t wanna place money on the outcome o’ that bet.

There’s a few individual candles burning round the room, but by and large it’s barely enough to pick much of anything out right now.  Most of the illumination now we’re bringing in with us, my own sword in particular lighting things up a whole lot more, so as I step inside I just start to pick up on exactly what’s going on here.  And where I actually am.

When I was a kid, growing up in our apartments over the training barracks in Tabaphic, I had my own room, and it was nice enough, I guess, but I was never really the homiest person if I’m honest.  I spent so much o’ my time out in the world or training under da an’ the other sergeants, my room was really little more’n just the place my bed was.  Even in my adolescence, when the moodiness started to kick in and I found it harder to get up in the morning, I still mostly thought of it more as a room than mine.  Truth be told, don’t reckon I really got the whole idea of girls actually having their own personal bedroom as a haven, their safe little space apart from the rest of the world, until I became more’n just friends with Janna.  First time she took me into her room it was genuinely like stepping into another world.

I catch something o’ that here but it’s a hell of a lot more extravagant.  Then again, we’re dealing with rich girls here, never mind they’re the Hellcat’s daughters.  It’s very … rich, and a whole bunch o’ fancy too, a good deal more o’ the kinda overblown foofaraw as da would’ve called it, the kind I try not to roll my eyes at when I do deal with rich folks, particularly the women.  The bed alone … fucking hell, that thing is huge, it’s big as whole bedrooms I seen other people inhabit before, actually, and there’s just so much space.  There’s bloody big posts supporting a canopy over the top of it, with big, thick velvet curtains hanging round it, while the mattress is almost alarmingly high off the floor, not enough to cause a nosebleed but enough to hurt if you fell out at night.  And the bedclothes … it’s all satin, I swear, smooth and soft and … bloody hell, there’s fucking lace too.  And it’s just some of the lace I see decorating this place, actually.

That being said, there are enough touches scattered about to tell me this girl ain’t entirely devoid of her mother’s martial character, even if I hadn’t already gotten a suggestion last time I met her.  Instead o’ toys or whatever else I might expect a small child like Mara to prize, I see weapons hanging on racks or set on the vanity table in the back of the room alongside much more feminine accoutrements, which instantly mark this as Pela’s room.  Certainly there’s no way I’d ever expect to find Thura standing a room like this for herself.

“Who’s there?”  A very familiar voice breathes with fragile hope from just past the bed, and I see now that someone else is peeking up from behind a fancily decorated post.  It’s the tone of her voice that shakes me, I never would’ve expected it – Lady Thura Vezrim, the Hellcat of Kumehn Valley, is scared out her mind right now.  “Who …”

As her words peter out she squints in the relative gloom, although I suspect it might be more to do with the glowing blade I’m now moving to hold out to my side to redirect the light some.  Then I notice her looking me over, some strange, oddly wistful kind of recognition in her eyes as she takes me in, and I’m bloody slow remembering I’m wearing da’s armour, right down to my own specially commissioned new helm.

Kesla, you fucking moron.  You look just like a Rundao Regular right now.  Poor woman prob’ly reckons she’s seeing a ghost.

“What … are you … who is that?”

“Shit!”  I hiss under my breath, and before I even realise what I’m doing I stab Hefdred down so it pierces a good six inches into the floor like the boards are made of soft cheese, sticking up so I can let go.  Only now realising I just jammed my sword through the carpet of her daughter’s bedroom, I’m already dragging my helmet off as I spit out a rather muddled:  “Oh fuck … I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to –"  while turning her way again.

But her eyes just widen as she must recognise me, ‘spite of my greased hair and the black strip painted across my eyes, and there’s the slightest touch of a smile that reaches her lips now.  Fragile hope, kindled a little more brightly in her now.  “Oh, wait … Mistress Shoon?  Kesla!  You’re here!  But … oh, I’m a fool … of course, Sulin said you were coming for us …”

Her voice is breaking a little now, and I realise she’s crying, has clearly been crying for a while now, looks like, given how ruddy her cheeks have gotten, and the redness of her eyes.  For a moment I’m reminded of when she started to weep when we met her in her office, remembering her men, in the Valley, but even so … no, this is just wrong, it’s so strange, the Hellcat crying like some small, scared child.  I can’t fathom it at all.

Hooking my helmet onto my belt, I straighten up a bit as I yank my sword free again and take a few more steps into the room, looking round now.  “Yeah, well … I mean ‘course we came.  Are you okay?  What’s –”

“Help me … oh gods please help me, Kesla …”  Her breath’s hitching badly now as her voice cracks entirely, finally just dropping to her knees outta my sight, and I’m spurred on to follow her quicker now seeing it.  Even though I’m almost scared of what I might find …

Thura ain’t so much ducked back down as simply collapsed onto her side behind the bed, and as I come round I finally see why.  Okay, Mara’s all right, and Pela too, at least, the elder daughter hugging the younger tightly to her, while their younger brother Thadeon sits by with a deeply haunted look on his face, not really seeming to see anything right now.  There’s a lot of blood on him, I see, but it’s clear it’s not his, most likely it came from some poor bastard who died protecting him whenever it was he was clearly traumatized.

Most likely it’s his brother’s, I realise now.  Thura’s eldest child, Deriel Vezrim, virtually a man already but still so fucking young all the same, too young for this … Thura’s not really tending to him, mostly she’s just slumped at his side while she just holds onto his one remaining arm, gripping tight enough for her fingers to dig right in as she’s really starting to lose her fight to stop herself from just shattering right here.  The young guard, stood by waiting now, whose name I now realise I never caught, is watching me like she’s almost pleading with her eyes for me to help him, but even as I look down at the boy I realise any care that could be offered likely won’t do any good by this point.  His eyes are glassy, pupils wide, empty now as they just stare up at the ceiling, unblinking.

Gods … he was laid right open.  Poor kid, clearly he barely had time to throw on a simple pair of britches over his nightshirt and grab his sword, so he was entirely unarmoured when … whatever happened to him.  Then again, given what we’ve already seen, it’s not hard to work out.  I suspect he did exactly what the son of Thura Vezrim would have done when his little brother was threatened, bearing the brunt of the horrible attack instead.  I just hope he was dead before he even knew it had happened …

“Oh fuck …”  I barely manage to breath it, both my arms going limp as I just slump into myself standing over ‘em all now, the weight of sudden, unbearable sorrow settling on me like hot lead.

“What is it?”  Shay’s at my side now, I realise, her own blade bringing a little more illumination, and this just lights the whole awful scene up brighter.  “Are they … shit.  Oh my … oh fuck no … oh, Kesla, I’m so …”  Her voice falters at that, but I still sort of feel her reaching up to grip my shoulder the best she can, the effect still largely lost with my pauldron.

Finally Thura just gives up trying to compose herself and just starts openly bawling, finally shattering as her grief just takes over.  She’s realised as well as I have her son’s gone, maybe just while she was begging me for help, and her heart is breaking sure as her composure now.

When I try to take a breath I find it hitching a little too, my throat suddenly very thick, and I turn to look back towards the door, finding the others flooding in behind us now.  Art’s already on his knees next to Darwyn, working to get her out of her now damaged armour as Yeslee’s settling on her other side, fishing through her modest field kit for anything she might use to patch her up.  Krakka, meanwhile is almost entirely doubled over on his knees, hugging Bloodmoon while his glassy eyes really don’t seem much more focused than Deriel’s now.  Fuck … even before I step forward to ask after him I know my plea’s gonna be pointless.  “Fuck … is he … Krakka, are you with me?  We need you right now –”

“It’s no good, Kesla.”  Lady Naru’s dropping to one knee beside him now, hanging onto her staff while her free hand settles on his shoulder, but she looks up at me, solemn and contrite.  “He’s burned himself out.  We would be lucky to have him back on his feet by morning, certainly not anytime sooner.  There’s nothing he can do.”

“No, I can …”  He blinks as he tries to straighten up, but barely even manages to raise his hand off his hammer, his head still hanging while he completely fails to gain any more focus.  “I can … you need … fuck …”  Lady Naru doesn’t even need to try and hold him down, he’s so weak.  Fuck … damn it, Krakka, why’d you have to be so effective getting us out of that mess?  Now we’re stuck …

Taking a very clumsy step back, I don’t so much turn back as simply stumble round in a clumsy swing, and I guess it’s a miracle I’m still managing to hold onto my sword at all as I just sway along automatically now.  I’m … fuck, the fact I can’t help Thura when she needs me the most, that’s … even though we’re here now I feel like a failure seeing this.  I barely even realise I’m doing it as I push past Shay and stab Hefdred back into the floor before dropping to my own knees, very noisily I sort of realise but there’s nothing I can do now.  Pela flinches at the metallic clanking and hugs her sister a little tighter, but there’s no reproach in her wet eyes as she watches me look over her brother and mother.

Finally I reach out, leaning forward as much as I can with careful gentleness to touch Thura’s shoulder, warily hesitant as I try hard not to spook her.  Even so, when my heavy, gauntleted hand settles she stiffen instantly, a little sob escaping her as she jumps, and I freeze too, instantly regretting my action but knowing I gotta keep going all the same.  So I lean in a little more and take another shaky breath, very carefully choosing my words now as I speak:  “Thura?  I … I’m sorry … we can’t … there’s nothing we can do … for Deriel, I mean … Krakka’s outta power …”

Slowly she raises her head, still sobbing, and I can tell she’s trying to get herself under control again, but it’s not working any better than before.  When she finally looks up at me her face is enough to break my heart all over again, I’ve never seen grief quite like it before.  There’s anger in there too, hot and fierce, but mostly it’s just pure, broken, jet black sorrow.  I remember her telling me about how she lost her husband, the way he went, it was so ugly and unfair, and it’s clear to me now that she knows as well as I do that this is even worse, how her son’s gone before he even had a chance to really live.

“Kesla … what the fuck is going on … what are they … they took him … my boy … Deri … they took my boy … MY BOY …”  The rest of her words disintegrate into a formless howl of pure anguish and she just falls into my arms as I lunge forward to catch her, pulling her close and hugging her as tight to me as I dare given how heavily armoured I am.  I want to comfort her so badly but I’m painfully mindful that I’m covered virtually head to foot in hard, unyielding tempered steel …

In the end it don’t matter, she clings to me sure as if she’s drowning and I’m a pylon at the end of a dock.  So I give up trying to be gentle and just crush her tight as I think I can get away with, and just hold her while she vents and rages and screams.  And the whole time I’m unable to take my eyes off Deriel’s lifeless body as the guard crouches beside him and gently closes his eyes and lays his arms over his chest, finally reaching over to drag one of the quilts off the bed to snap it out the best she can to cover him.  She’s crying hard too, I realise.  Looks like this family means as much to her as it does to me.  But at least she actually got to know them.

I’m crying myself now, I can’t help it, but at least I manage to hold onto myself enough that it’s just hot tears and a little hitch in my breathing, no sobs.  I gotta be the strong one right now, even though I’m hating it.

“I’m sorry.”  I whisper to her, my voice low and soothing as I can keep it with the hitching of my own breath, and rock her gently.  “I’m so sorry, Thura.  I’m so, so very sorry.  There’s … fuck … there’s no words, I … I’m sorry …”

There’s no telling how long we stay like this.  I suspect it probably ain’t more’n a matter o’ minutes, but it seems to be hours to me.  She quiets by increments, not so much calming as just wearing herself out, the grief exhausting her as her wailing gives way to sobbing to shuddering and sniffing and low, keening moans.  Finally she just slumps in my arms, becoming soft and limp and helpless while she just breathes into my shoulder, still hitching and shuddering all the way, but largely spent now.  I tighten my grip a little more, keeping the crush gentle but hesitant, and take a breath of my own.  It’s more than a little relieving that it comes in smooth this time …

So when I look up, turning my head enough I can take in what’s going on across the room again, I see the others still fussing over Darwyn, who’s been largely stripped of her leather now, a lot of bandages wrapping her shoulder, arm and much of her chest.  She looks very unhappy, and I don’t blame her at all for that, even while I was tending to Thura I couldn’t miss the cries and whimpers behind me.  She’s looking clearer than before, at least, but even paler too, wan and weak now.  Art’s got her swaddled in his arms now as he sits behind her, while Yes finally rocks back in her heels, looking up with a particularly deep frown.  She looks right at me now, almost on cue, and while it’s subtle her expression says everything it has to.

“That bad, huh?”

“If we don’t get her to a healer soon she’s going to die.”    She shoots a cautious look to Art, whose own eyes perceptibly widen at that, then Darwyn hisses as he hugs her a little tighter without really meaning to.  “We have to go.  Now.”

Thura must have caught that, I feel her shift in my arms now.  It’s still weak, and clumsy, but she’s with it enough all the same.  I relax my grip a little as I subtly shift my position, making a little room for her to push herself up if she chooses, but for a few moments at least she don’t move again.  “Um … Thura?  I’m sorry, but … um … we need you to be with us now …”

“Oh …”  It’s less of a moan than a grunt really, and when she starts to push against me now it’s with more strength, so I just let her, shifting back myself to let her now.  Finally she reaches up and starts working her fingers up across the front of my armour, clumsily questing for the top of my cuirass.  After a moment I just reach up and take hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and now she looks up.

She’s … fuck, her face is a ruin, it’s flushed red and angry but streaked through the dirt where her tears have run, eyes raw and bleary and fighting for focus now, while her lip’s still wobbling even though her own breath is evening out a little more.  Mostly she just looks haunted now, and I’m scared she ain’t even there enough to answer me.

“I …”  Honestly, I ain’t got the first clue what to say now, my words have just completely dried up.  Then she reaches up with her hand and grabs hold of my pauldron, dragging herself a little closer, and now I might be the only thing holding her up.  “Thura, I …”

“What …”  she croaks now, and her voice … fuck, she’s screamed herself hoarse.  “What’s happening … how did … who did this …”

“Vandryss.”  Lady Naru surprises me, seemingly to sweep in out of nowhere now with her little globe of light still hovering above her as she crouches at my side with her usual unfathomable graceful ease.  She looks solemn but … still so composed all the same, even while her tone is as gentle as I’m trying to keep mine.  “We believe it must be Vandryss.  They’re making their move, it seems.”

“But …”  Thura blinks up at her now, still struggling to focus, I see.  “But why … how did she even know …”

Lady Naru’s eyes flicker to mine now, and there’s that worry again, deep down.  She licks her lips before answering, seeming to be working hard to choose her words very carefully.  “Darion … they must have broken him.  He … he’s been compromised.”

It’s a long beat before Thura can answer, her brow furrowing deep as she looks back to me, then to Naru again, then down, just searching randomly now.  Finally she mutters something low under her breath I can’t make out, before finally looking up at her friend again.  “But … but how?  He would never … I know him, he … no, it’s not possible –"

“They have Gael.”  The words are out before I can help it, and I look down now, unable to face her.  “His … Darion’s child.  Our friend.  They took ‘em when … it was a mess, and mistakes were made and …”  Fuck.  Honestly, I don’t know how I can make it sound any better than the shitshow it already is, now it’s made things so much worse.

Thura slips free from my armour with that first hand, and I have to look up as she drags me somewhat to the side as she reaches out for Lady Naru now, vaguely grasping like she still can’t quite make her out.  “Oh … Sulin, I’m … I’m sorry …”

Naru takes hold of the proffered hand in both of hers, and I can see her face breaking a little now, her composure slipping.  When she looks down she breathes a heavy sigh, her voice seeming thicker as she breathes:  “We’ll get them back.  I swear it.  I will … I won’t rest until … until …”

“Got to go.”  For a long beat I can’t identify the voice that rasps that loud little croak from the far side of the room, I’m so focused here now.  Then I look up, and I see Brung’s moved into the room too, coming towards us, but being real cautious about it now.  As he clears the bed and comes into view of the family I see how uncomfortable he is now, real reluctance in him, and he’s looking down as he steps very deliberately.  “Something … can’t explain.”

First I actually realise others have seen him is the sharp intake of breath and the sudden flurry of movement as the guard starts fumbling for the sword hung at her hip.  I reach out my hand quick as I can to check her, hissing a warning, but even so she’s already cleared a foot of steel before Lady Naru finally pipes in:  “Uhra, it’s all right.  He’s with us.  Brung’s a friend.”

The young woman checks herself at that, at least, but even so she don’t relent yet, looking the goblin over for a long beat before finally letting her sword settle back in its scabbard.  She stands ready too, still fiercely tense as she watches the little merc close.  “Okay … if you insist, my lady, but …”

The children are looking him over with wide eyes too, I see, but then they likely never seen a real live goblin before in their lives.  I wonder now what kinds of stories they actually been brought up on regarding ‘em, if they been filled with the same kind o’ cold, bone-deep prejudice as most o’ the big society types I met.  Somehow … I dunno, I can’t imagine it, not with Thura.  Not after how I’ve gotten to know her.

That said, this is all clearly too much for them right now, one more startling development on top of so much bad that’s already been piled on them this night … so I finally let go of Thura, who releases her own hold as I start to push back up onto my haunches, instead grabbing hold of Lady Naru, who wraps her up in her own close embrace.  I’m already turning to the new arrival as I don’t bother standing up, instead just shifting my feet so I can face him while staying in my crouch.  Keeping very much on his level now.  “What is it?”

“Can’t explain.”  He cocks his head towards the door, his eyes never leaving mine.  “Easier to show.  Quick.”

Frowning, I look back at Naru and Thura, who are still locked in their awkward hug, the sorcerer rocking the former warrior gently while she just stares at nothing in particular, more haunted than ever now.  “Just wait.  I’ll be back.”

Not waiting for a reply, I push myself up, already starting to move before I’ve straightened, and I’m even more careless yanking Hefdred free than I was planting it in the first place.  Brung’s words are already gnawing at me, I really don’t have time for a mystery right now.

He leads me to the door, and Yeslee’s already stepping up as I pass, plucking her bow off the floor and falling into step with me without hesitation while giving me a particularly cool, sidelong look down.  Sensing my own mood, I’m sure.  I don’t say anything, just letting her make up her own mind about what we’re about now.

Shay’s already waiting for us, holding her own glowing sword off to the side and, now I’m actually paying attention, very much inside the room, so that, especially with the door barely open more’n a crack, it don’t really shine much light out into the corridor.  She’s looking out into the darkness without, and even as I approach I can almost feel the tension coming off her.  Something’s really rubbing her the wrong way.

I’ll admit, for a beat I’m struck enough by Shay’s sword to be a tad distracted.  Given the blade’s strangely crystalline-seeming structure, the glow of the god-light in it seems to manifest in a different way to our steel.  It almost seems to shift and ripple, subtly pulsing in lazy waves from hilt to point, while the blade itself seems almost hollow beneath it.  It’s uncanny and quite beautiful, but in a slightly unnerving kind of way.

Brung stops a little short, and I pause with him, leaning somewhat now so I can get a little closer to his level again.  “What’s up?”  I breath in the lowest whisper I can manage.

“Out there.”  He cocks a clawed thumb towards the door, and his expression remains as unchanged as ever.  “Just look.”

Frowning deeper still, I ponder for a moment before sheathing Hefdred and stepping up to Shay’s side.  I notice her tense a little more as I arrive, but only for a beat, as she must register that it’s me cuz she simply takes a step back and turns towards me.  She looks somewhat shook, I notice, and that just worried me too.  “You need to see this.”

Opening my mouth, I almost asks her what she means, but after Brung dodged the question twice I wonder if Shay might gimme the runaround too, so instead I just step up to lean into the crack between the door and frame.  Then I realise that all I can see out there is varying levels of shadow, and I genuinely have to fight the urge to curse under my breath as I step back again and start fishing in the pouch on my belt.  Finding my goggles.  Unwrapping ‘em, I toss the cloth to Shay with greater irritation than I’d like to show and, while she jumps to catch it slip the gear onto my head, uncomfortably mindful now that I’m getting grease on the strap from my hair.  Nuts …

Even so, when I finally take a breath and step to the crack again, suddenly I can actually see into the hallway again … and it’s enough to make me forget about anything else.  Fuck … yeah, she was right, this is serious …

I mean sure, it takes me a moment or two to even make sense o’ what I’m actually looking at, to begin with it just looks like … well, something just shifting and growing out there, slowly seeming to increase in size and form as it staggers around out there in the gloom.  More than one something, in fact, once I start to look.  At least three definite shapes out there … no, four, or maybe five, another one seems to make itself known as I start to make some kinda sense o’ what I’m seeing.  But not really.  It’s still bloody strange and pretty disturbing looking at this.

Pieces of the bodies out here … they’re forming new bodies.  But not the same bodies, no, the corpses themselves ain’t coming back to life, or whatever it is undead things do, Krakka’s got a fancy word for it, I remember … reanimating, that’s it.  No, this is something else … honestly, it’s more like something else is just taking whatever’s immediately to hand and reforming in whatever way’s most convenient in order to create something that’s simply functional.  Gods know, the first thing, which seems to be the most fully put-together and is already starting to slowly lurch towards us from some way down the corridor, don’t appear immediately recognisable as any specific form of … well, I sure hesitate to call any o’ this shit life.  For one thing, it’s got too many limbs, with too many … I guess they’re joints, in the loosest sense.  And no immediately discernible head, ‘least not that I can immediately pick out.  ‘Course it’s still forming, but …

“Fuck me …”  I growl with deep unease as I pull back, slipping the goggles off careful as I can so I don’t slather the lenses in grease too.  Finally I flick ‘em to Shay, who again has to scramble some to catch ‘em, and take a few big steps back away from the door, my head still reeling bad from what I seen out there.

Frowning herself at my reaction, Yes steps up where I was and has a look for herself, and pulls back almost immediately, her eyes unusually wide now.  She don’t swear like I did, but still lets out a deep, uncomfortable sharp hiss that says more than enough for her own opinion.  When she looks my way she bares her teeth, looking about as wild as I ever seen her.  “That … that is … just wrong.”

“You ever seen anything like that before?”  I almost don’t ask, but reckon I have to.

She watches me for a long beat before growling:  “Fuck no.”

“Great.”  I mutter, turning back to Shay, who’s bundled my goggles up again, now holding ‘em out to me to collect.  She don’t look any calmer now than before, I see.  Reckon she’s thinking the same thing I am, that we are in deep shit right now.

Turning back to the room at large, I find Lady Naru’s on her feet again, still stood by the bed with her staff clutched close to her in both hands in such a way she looks strikingly like Gael in this moment.  Her expression seems mostly expectant, but … maybe she’s just picking up on our bad vibes.

Stuffing the bundle back into the pouch, I step up to the cluster on the floor again, looking down at Darwyn as Art cranes up at me, looking like he’s picked up on my mood too.  “How is she?”

“Bad.”  He’s stroking her hair, keeping it out her face as he half-cradles her.  She’s looking up at me too, but her eyes are heavily lidded, and she’s clearly having trouble focusing, her face the palest I ever seen it.  “I … I can’t … we gotta do something –”

“Yeah, I know.  We will.”  I look down at Krakka now, finding the cleric’s finally sitting up without slumping, although he’s still cradling his hammer tighter than a child.  He looks pretty miserable, but ‘least it seems like he can actually see me now.  “Can you move?”

“I don’t know.”  His croak is particularly raw, and it don’t make me feel any better than the look he’s giving me now.  “Honestly, I’m really feeling my age right now.”

“Shit.”  I mutter now, more to myself really, but it still prompts a little tightening frown from him too.  Instead of replying to it I simply take a breath and turn away to move back towards the bed, unhooking my helmet from my belt again as I go.  I can’t help squaring my shoulders as I walk, sucking in a deeper, heavier breath now as I try to prepare myself for what I know I gotta do now.

Lady Naru steps into my path as I approach and I give her a sharp look as I look her over.  “Kesla –”

“I need you to get ‘em out.  Right now.  D’you reckon you can port ‘em all outta here at once, or is that gonna be too much?  Cuz if not I need you to get Thura and her family back to the temple right now and then come straight back for Darwyn an’ Art.  And I guess Krakka too, state he’s in right now he’s no good to anyone.”

For a long moment she don’t say anything, she just looks at me, and again I get that subtle sense that she’s grown so very tired, her veneer slipping now so it’s easier to pick up on, or maybe it’s just anxiety in the situation.  Finally she leans into her staff again, letting a heavy sigh go as she looks down, licking her beautiful lips.  “I … can’t.”

“What … what d’you mean?  You have to, there’s no time, something’s –”

“I’m sorry, Kesla, but I can’t.  I don’t know what it is, exactly, but …”  Shaking her head, she looks back up, and gives me a more sheepish look now.  “I suspect it might be something like the effect that Driver 8 seemed to be experiencing down below.  There’s something here that … I can’t really explain it, but it’s blocking me.  My senses, or at least my focus.  I can still see, and hear, and feel, but I don’t have a sense of place like I normally have.  I need two points of focus to achieve an effective portal spell.  Firstly, I need a strong sense of where I’m going, either a specific location in my own mind or someone else’s, or at least a strong enough idea that I can take a blind jump on faith and hopefully luck out of ending up inside a wall.  But I also need a sense of where I am, a solid fix in time and space.  And here, now … I just can’t find one.  I know where I am, I’ve been here enough times, but … somehow, that familiarity has been stripped from me.”  She sighs again as she must catch the scepticism in my look, and it’s a weary thing.  “I know, it must sound … ludicrous, but it’s simple fact.”

For another beat I hold my tongue, searching her face for any hint that she might at least suspect she’s wrong about this, but … no, she’s the expert here, she’d know what she’s talking about.  “Fuck.”  I turn away, clenching my empty fist while tightening my grip on the helm in my right, and it’s all I can do not to spit right here in Pela’s bedroom.  “We just can’t catch a bloody break …”

“What is it that’s –”

Turning back, I just run right over her now.  “It don’t matter, we can’t stay here.  It ain’t safe.  I need you to get ‘em out anyway.  Any way you can.  You with me?”

Her frown deepens as her eyes narrow.  “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to.”  I look down at the helmet in my hand now, the one I commissioned special from Janna, made to measure but intentionally styled close as I could get to the one my da would’ve worn back in his day.  “Yeah.  Whatever it takes to give you time to get out.  I just need you to promise me you’ll get all of ‘em out.”

Naru looks ready to argue, but she stops herself short, finally letting another weary sigh go as she must realise I ain’t backing down.  Guess she’s gotten to know me enough since we met … gods, however long ago it was now.  Feels like an age, the way things have gone lately.  In the end she simply nods, frowning again, and there’s a little bit of a growl to her voice as she breathes:  “All right.  I promise.  But you have to make sure you get out as well.  You have to help me find Gael, remember?”

That makes me smile, I can’t help it, and I reach up with my free hand to touch her cheek before I’ve quite realised I’m doing it.  She don’t shy away from my touch, and her own more subtle smile is brief and sad but … well, it’s warm enough at least.

Nodding, I step round her now and duck down behind the bed, dropping to my knees gentle as I can at Thura’s side.  She’s slumped over her son now, head on his arm, and while she don’t seem to be sobbing she still looks pretty thoroughly out of it now.  I look round at the others now, seeing her elder daughter still quietly weeping while the younger’s got her head buried in her sister’s side, but Thadeon’s just watching me with quiet intensity.  Seems he must’ve cried himself out now, mostly he just looks angry.

Finally I turn to the guard, who I realise is watching me with more of a cold, calculating wariness now.  She’s gripping the sword at her hip now, and while I don’t feel any actual threat from her right now, I still choose my tone real careful as I speak to her.  “What’s your name, if I may?”

This just makes her blink, she clearly weren’t expecting it, and for a long beat I wonder if maybe she just won’t answer anyway, and I wouldn’t blame her, she don’t know me, not really.  She’s seen me twice now, and the last time barely.  But finally she lets a little sigh out and licks her lips, her eyes flickering up to, I imagine, Lady Naru for a moment before returning to mine.  “Uhra.  Uhra Sedrun.  I’m … well shit … honestly, I’m scared I might be it for our security force, now.”

“Well I’m sure you’re capable enough to serve just fine.”  When I say it, her brows prick right up high, but I don’t back-peddle.  Time’s too short.  “I need you to help me out here.  Help us all out.  It’s about to get proper scary up here, and you have to get her Ladyship and her children outta here fast.  There some other way down outta here, besides the stairs?  Any way at all?”

“I don’t …”  Uhra looks down again, frowning more thoughtful now.  “The east wing was burning before, an’ with all that shit going on I doubt anybody’s had a mind to fight it, if they even are still alive … so may be half the house is on fire by now.  The garden balcony probably ain’t much good now …”  Her frown deepens, and she pauses for a long moment, then looks up, to Lady Naru again, I’m sure.  “The library?  I forgot all about the Black Helix, nobody uses it anymore.  Not since … um …”  She turns awkward now, her eyes going to Thura.

“Since Terth … passed.  Of course.”  When I look up, Naru’s stood right over me, thoughtful now, but still wistful, likely from being reminded of the death of another person she cared deeply for.  “It’s probably the surest way out.  I can lead the way if you think we can get past those –”

“Oh, don’t worry about them.”  I let a deep sigh out as I look back down.  “They’ll be plenty busy, I can promise you that.”  Leaning forward, I finally reach out and lay my hand, as gently as I can, on the grieving mother’s shoulder.  “Thura?  I’m so sorry, but I need you with me now.”

For a long beat she don’t stir, and I think maybe she really is just broken now, that the death of her eldest child has taken the last lick of strength she had, whatever she had left over after so many years without her husband.  But finally she raises her head again, slow and faltering, seeming shaky but still responding, and while she looks every bit as broken as before, there’s … focus enough, at least.  “What … what’s happening?”  Her voice is still little better than a rasp, but she’s all cried out now, looks like.  “Are you –”

“It’s time to go.  I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to … I get it, I’d wanna just stay here and die, I felt the same when …”  Fuck … I have to stop myself there, look down and take a deep breath, fighting the slight hitch in it as I feel my own past trauma starting to stir inside me, the old wounds pricking again.  It really ain’t the time.  “We’re in deep shit, Thura.  You need to get your family out now.  I’m sorry about Dery, but there ain’t nothing you can do for him now.  You gotta look out for the rest o’ your kids now.  So you gotta get up, and you gotta run.  You might have to fight too.  Probably have to fight.”  I look her right in the eye now, deep and close as I can.  “Can you?”

Blinking, Thura watches me for a long beat, then looks down at her son’s body again.  Then at her daughters, and her remaining son.  For a moment it seems like she might be fit to burst into tears again … then she sets her jaw, bearing her teeth a little, and with the subtlest frown her face hardens.  Oh … that is a fierce look, it’s enough to give me chills, just looking at it.  I wonder if that’s her war face?  The deepest part o’ me gets the slightest thrill to see it, I swear.

Then she reaches over, behind her, and picks something up from the floor on her hidden side.  It’s her sword, that beautiful bastard sword I remember from her office.  The same blade she made such a name for herself with.  “Lead on.”

Nodding with the subtlest smile, I roll back onto my heels and push myself up, flipping my helmet over as I do so to flare the cowl out.  As I straighten up I slip the whole thing back into place over my head, taking a moment to adjust it until it’s perfectly comfortable in place, and turn back to Lady Naru.  “I’m gonna need some light out there.”

That makes her frown.  “But we already have light.  This follows me, so of course it should be enough for you to –”

“I’m not gonna be with you, though.  Somebody’s gotta keep those things distracted, cover your escape.  I’m the best fighter here, ‘least after Thura, and she’s gonna be busy getting her family out.  Which you’re gonna help her with.”

“What?  But –”

“No arguments, Sulin.”  Her brows rise at the sudden familiarity, but I don’t regret the slip.  To be honest, reckon I’ve gotten used to her enough now it fits.  “You’re leading ‘em out, and I’m trusting you with my friends as well as yours.  You got me?”

I say that just as I’m sure she was gonna try and argue again, and for a moment she just stands there, watching me with her mouth open, before finally closing it with a particularly frustrated little frown.  “Damn it … all right.  But you remember your promise to me.  I need you as much as you need me right now.”

Watching her for a beat, I finally just extend my hand, and after a loaded beat she reaches out and give it a healthy grip.  Then she nods, lets go, and turns back to her friend.

Now I look at Uhra.  “You up to this?”

“Of course … yes.  I am.”  She lays her hand on her sword as she steps to Thura’s side and gives me a stern look.  “It’s my job.  But I mean … I would anyway.  They’re … y’know …”

“Yeah.”  I nod in response.  “I get it.  Good.”

When I turn round this time I’m already starting to step away, but I’m stopped short when I find Shay’s stood less than three feet behind me, giving me a particularly dark look.  “Don’t even think about telling me to abandon you too.  If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

I almost argue with her, but I stop myself as I realise I don’t want to.  To be honest, I know I could use the help.  So I just nod as I sigh:  “Yeah, all right.” Stepping forward, I give her shoulder a soft little slap.  “I’ll be glad to have you.”

She just frowns at that, and clearly I surprised her since she must’ve been preparing to argue her case.  Instead she gives a clipped nod and steps back out my way, and as she moves I see Krakka behind her, pushing himself to his feet.  Still unsteady on ‘em, but smoother than before.

“Don’t start, you’re going with the others.”

Narrowing his eyes, he gives me a particularly stern look as he grabs hold of Bloodmoon’s shaft and gives it a hard yank that largely fails to pick it up off the floor, instead just pulling him over to lean at an angle.  “Come off it, I’m … I’m getting better now.  My Lady is … I think I have something in me again.  Another few minutes of prayer and I might –”

“There’s no time, Krakka.  Besides, if there is anything in your tank right now, they’re gonna need it more’n we are out there.”  I let my hand settle on Hedred’s hilt now.  “You already helped us, it’s up to us to give the rest o’ you a chance to get out.  Then we’ll be right behind you.”

He watches me for a long, loaded moment, and I genuinely can’t tell if I’m winning him over or he might try to argue again.  Then he lets a grunting, raspy sigh go and nods, or maybe it’s more like he just drops his head in clear exhaustion.  “Shit … all right.  But you’d better follow, as soon as you can.  Otherwise I’m coming back in the moment the others are out.”

“Fair enough.”  I step up to him now and grab hold of his shoulder by the pauldron, giving it a gentle but firm tug to drag him to his full height so he can finally pick his hammer up again.  He blinks up at me in somewhat flustered surprise as I let go, but I’m already moving on.

Art looks up as I reach him, already picking Darwyn up in his arms as he gets one foot under him and straightens his back.  Ready to lift.  The halfling looks deeply uncomfortable, but I also get the sense that her clear pain is at least giving her focus as she blinks up at me, managing to focus now even if her eyes are still heavily lidded.

“Okay, I need you to –”

“Yeah, I got it already.”  Art growls under his breath as he pushes himself upright, giving me a pretty scathing glare.  “I can read a room.  I’ll be ready.”

“Fine.  Well just go fast, and stay close to Krakka.”  I reach out now and give his shoulder a little squeeze too.  “And be careful.”

“You too.  No stupid risks.  Don’t do any more’n you got to to cover us, then haul your arse out.  I mean it, I’m with Krakka.  I’m gonna be pissed at you if you die in here.  Gael needs you.”

Giving his mane a little ruffle before he can stop me, I drop him a nod.  He don’t bat me away this time, just steps back, giving me a sharp look, but he’s smiling a little all the same.  Finally I tip Darwyn a quick wink and she manages a tired half-smile of her own in response, and I turn for the door now.

Yeslee’s already stepping towards me, her bow still nocked as she keeps half-turned towards the door.  Ready in case anything happens even as she regards me.  “It’s getting ugly out there.  We have minutes, and not many of those.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Do you want me to back you up, or …”  She don’t finish, instead just frowning, looking round at the rest o’ the room, and I pick up on her reluctance immediately.  It’s almost enough to make me take her up on the offer, but I can’t.

“No, you’re my best hope for ‘em all getting out good an’ fast.  Brung too.”  I look at the goblin now, who’s already turned away from this place at the door to look at me now as he catches his name.  “You’re cool with that, right wee man?”

“Yes.”  He turns away without another word, going straight back to his sharp-eyed vigil through the crack.

Cocking a brow, I turn back to Yes.  “Guess that’s good.  You okay with that?”

She quirks her own brow just a little even though I know there’s no way she could’ve actually caught my gesture with the helmet, then just shrugs.  “If you think it’s best.  You’re probably right.  I’ll do my part.”  She turns to Shay now, giving her a look over.  “Watch over this one.  I’m starting to like her.”

When I turn to the half-orc I see her own brows have shot right up, her eyes wide as she looks at the Fir Bolg with clear surprise, but there’s a little bit of a shy smile touching her mouth too.  Then I spot Lady Naru making her way over, weaving something between her hands while Thadeon follows her with her staff grasped in his little hands, and I realise she’s making another one of those light globes.  I step back towards her now as she arrives, already holding out her hands as it takes form between ‘em.  “Great, just in time –”

”Here.”  She thrusts it right at me without ceremony.  “Hold your hands out.  Quickly, please.”

Catching the slightly flustered urgency in her tone, I do as I’m told, and as I bring my hands together in front of me she essentially tosses the globe into ‘em.  I scramble a touch to make sure I don’t drop it, but it don’t actually fall, as if it seems to sense my own intent, and simply floats above my palms.  “Um … right, sure, what do I –”

“Blow on it.”  She has a subtle smile of her own now as she gently plucks her staff from Thadeon’s grasp.  “Gently.”

Frowning, I closely raise my hands, and the globe rises with ‘em.  “Um … okay?”  Leaning forward and feeling entirely ridiculous, I breathe a gentle puff of air onto the little ball of brilliant light, and I swear it brightens just a little when I do it.  Then it starts to rise, and as I take a surprised step back it follows me.  Oh … wow, that’s actually really cool.

“That’s it.”  The sorcerer beams at me, already taking a step back.  “You’re all set.”

“Great.”  I take a deep breath, suddenly realising I’m actually committing to this plan now, and take another step back, opening room around me now as I reach for the back of’ my belt and unhook the other little something I picked up from Stormshield’s workshop in Bavat.

Taking a moment to strap it into place on my left wrist, I check the fit over for a couple o’ beats until I’m comfortable with it before giving the handle the little twisting squeeze that the Silver Order’s master weaponsmith explained to me.  It feels a little rudimentary, I remember at the time I wondered if it might not be a little foolish since I’m just as likely to repeat the gesture without thinking about it in the middle of a battle, but he assured me it wouldn’t be a problem.  The way he made it, the enchantment he wove into the mechanism means that it's designed to pick up on my intent when I do it, so once I twist it’ll activate and then lock until I intentionally close it up again.  Even so, I don’t really believe it’s actually gonna work until I actually do it … and it activates just as it did back in the Academy.

Essentially it’s a shield, but it’s the fanciest one I ever seen.  Not so much in its actual design, although I’ll admit it’s pretty sweet looking in a largely functional kind of way, built for practicality more’n style.  Or maybe that’s just why I like it.  It starts out as just a tightly folded block of thick, dark dwarven steel plate less’n a foot square, but with that simple motion the whole thing seems to uncurl, almost like a flower opening to the sun.  Albeit a good deal louder, with a lot o’ clicking and metallic shunting, until it’s fully unfurled.

Now I got a subtly curved shield with a tilting diamond shape strapped to my arm, three feet tall and two and half across at its widest.  Once again I’m a little surprised that it’s nowhere near as heavy as I expected it to be, but then Hurrig promised me that was very much taken into consideration when he made it in the first place.  Even so, I find myself shifting my stance immediately to compensate for its simple bulk, years of deep-ingrained drilling and muscle memory taking over almost entirely without conscious thought.  It’s been a few years since I actually used a shield, but it feels like I never stopped …

“Bloody hell …”  Shay breathes beside me, which perks my attention a little, and I look up to find her eying my shield with surprise.  “So that’s what it does?”

“Beats having to lug a regular one round all the time.”  I mutter as I test its heft for a few moments, just getting a read on how it effects my balance.  To be honest, it might’ve been better if I’d got a little practice in with it first, I’m usually pretty wary about jumping straight into a fight with an untried piece o’ kit, and like I said it’s been a little while since I actually fought with a shield.  But this time round circumstances ain’t really been too conducive to opportunity.  So I’m going with what I got.

“It’s very impressive.”  Yes offers up, and while her face is completely straight and her tone entirely even, I can’t help feeling like she’s taking the piss a little bit.  So I give her a sharp little glare that she likely misses thanks to the helmet anyway.

“Whatever.”  I finally growl under my breath, reaching over now to draw my sword.  If I’m gonna do this, might as well do it properly.  Then, as the blade flares bright when I slide it free, I turn to Thura, who Lady Naru’s now helped to her feet, supporting her friend even as she holds her sword low at her side, preparing herself for … well, whatever.  “You ready?”

“Enough.”  Her reply’s honest, I’ll give her that, but then she’s still too worn out from just pure grief to really convince as a warrior right now.  “Someone … can someone come back for Dery?  I don’t want him to … burn ...”

“We’ll do what we can.”  Shay surprises me, but she’s looking down at her sword when she says it, testing the edge of the strange crystalline blade as it glow in her hands.  Like she’s preparing herself for what’s to come.

“Yeah.”  I agree with a clipped nod.  “We get done up here, I’ll bring ‘im down myself.  We don’t manage it, it’ll be cuz we’re dead.”

Naru cocks a brow at that, while Yes narrows her eyes a little, but it’s Krakka who reacts most to my words, his own eyes widening considerably while he seems to be searching for an admonishment.  But then Thura simply says:  “Thank you.”  her voice cracking a little, and it seems to smooth the mood somewhat.

I turn to give Yes one last look, and for the life o’ me I can’t think of anything to say in the moment, but she just nods at me, seeming to read me even with the helmet, and that’s enough for me.  So I turn round without another word and start for the door, just trusting Shay to pick up on it as I go.

Brung’s already dragging the door open wide now, springing aside as I approach so he don’t trip me up, and he gives me a little nod of his own as I pass him by.  I start to charge now, squaring up my shoulders as I tighten my form, bending my back so I can draw myself into a ready guard soon as I’ve cleared the door.  Adjusting my grip on my father’s sword as I rush out into the corridor, taking a cautious breath and holding it in anticipation of what I’m about.

In the end I only look round with my eyes, and I keep the glance short and focused, taking in only what I need to right now.  The first one of … whatever the fuck these things are, it’s almost right on top of us already, I reach it in three big, quick strides, and there’s ‘least half a dozen more behind it now, or maybe that’s just all I can make out in what seems to be an ugly growing jumble of … unpleasantness.

Soon as I’m close the smell hits me, stronger than before by a wide margin.  It’s a truly nasty stink, not necessarily rotten meat, but it’s gone bad all the same, more like it’s been badly burned, but greasy too, a really fatty odour that catches in the back o’ my sinuses.  But worse is the sound, these things seem to creak and crackle as they move, wet and sinewy as only raw meat can be, and it’s enough to give me chills on its own.

Their movements, now I can really see it, are jerky and somewhat … off, really.  Now I’m really looking they don’t really seem like they’re actually alive, it’s just a trick o’ their animation, they remind me more of puppets, but they got something really wrong with ‘em, like the joints or strings or whatever it is making ‘em move don’t work right.  Maybe there is something of the undead in ‘em, but … no, this is something else, something truly strange and unfathomably wrong.

At least my own instant revulsion helps to spur me to action, even if it’s just to get this thing outta my way quick as I can.  So I swing the moment I’ve closed the distance, turning in a low cut to arc up to cleave it in half through what could generously be called its waist and up through its lower chest.  Eldritch horror or not, this thing’s just meat, I don’t see it putting up much of a fight against my white hot blade.

Except that it reacts to my attack while I make it, and while my blade does cut a substantial gouge up through something resembling a ribcage, it still manages to dodge a full, cleaving stroke.  And I suddenly realise it’s got a whole lot more limbs that it has any right to as it snaps something like a mix between a leg and a heavily segmented whip round towards my face as I reel aside, attempting to recover from my aborted cut.  Intent on battering my down, or maybe worse.  I saw what those shadow things did to Darwyn, I don’t wanna see what these things could do with whatever they got.

So I bring my shield up quick, planting my feet best I can as I turn my shoulder as much into the coming blow as I can … and it still hits me like a battering ram.  The shield holds up magnificently, bearing the brunt of the strike, but I still fold under the force of it, and it knocks me hard into the wall before I bounce off again.  Suddenly unbalanced …

Then Shay’s there, her sword flaring spectacularly as she spins it in a blazing flourish which sheers the offending appendage clean away with a hissing hot sizzle before following through with three cuts to the body which are so fast I have trouble tracking ‘em.  Certainly this thing don’t have a chance to dodge this time, and as I start to topple now it’s already coming apart as it starts to sag.  Then I’m falling and I got more immediate concerns.

Growing acutely aware that, comparatively light as it is, the shield’s definitely thrown off my balance from what I’m used to, I just throw that arm out to the side as I hurl myself forward into a hard roll, judging the coming tumble well as I can for the weight of my armour.  ‘Least I manage to hold onto my sword as I just barely make it without throwing myself onto my face on the recovery, but I’m still clumsy regaining my feet.  In the end I just chuck myself at the wall again, this time intentionally bouncing off it so I can come up ready on the other side.  Just as another one comes at me with startling speed, jerky as the first and, now that I’m starting to get a read on ‘em, damn unpredictable.

When this one tries to take a swipe at me with one of its nasty feelers I don’t try to dodge this time, instead swinging my shield up in a wide, forceful arc fully intended to swat it away while I charge in to meet it.  I hear the dull, wet, heavy thwack of meat and snapping, cracking bone but the check works, and I’m already turning my shoulder into its centre of mass, gritting my teeth as I hold my breath, trying hard not to breathe when I’m this close to the fucking thing.  It's like barging into a chunk of solid oak, it’s got no right to be this bloody solid, but it ain’t rooted like a tree, so I still manage to knock it off balance.  So I plant my feet and this time when I cut up my attack works without a hitch.

Thorin, it’s a beautiful stroke, actually.  I don’t just shear clean through its main trunk in a near perfect forty-five degree angle, but I sever three more o’ those nasty dishevelled limbs in the process, all the pieces tumbling aside around me as I manage to step right through it without quite meaning too.  Already planting my feet now as I see more of ‘em coming up fast beyond.

“Are they clear?”  I call out without turning, reluctant to take my eyes off the threats as they present themselves.  “Tell me they’re clear!”

“They’re gone!”  Shay’s already coming in close on my left, bent low at the ready as she takes up a wary stance with her sword cocked high in both hands.  “It’s just us!  What do you want to do?”

Chancing the quickest sidelong glance at her, I shift my footing and adjust my grip on Hefdred, moving my shield now to cover me again as I prepare for the next attack.  “Just hold the line.  We can’t break yet, we gotta stand.  You good?”

“Good enough.”  she breathes, tightening up just a little more.  “You?”

I almost grin at that.  Honestly, now the fight’s on I almost feel good again.  “Oh yeah.  Don’t mind me.”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[sweetums0kitty]

Things that I think have Edward Nashton ✨Vibes✨ or like random headcannons for him.

The Early Fall Out Boy albums.

Mainly I think he’d love Take This To Your Grave (he’s big into Tell Mick he just made my list of things to do today) and From Under the Cork Tree (Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I got was this song) and Folie à deux (mans screams 20 Dollar Nosebleed driving home after a murder)

Has a beat up to hell DSI he saved a bunch of money up for. Is the undisputed king of Brain Age. Has that DS game that’s just a bunch of public domain classic books.

The DSI itself is like really beat up from riding around in his book bag. He’s changed the battery multiple times so it’s basically running on spite and coffee fumes! Just like him!

I think Eddie would also be an MCR fan, Mama makes him cry his eyes out. Legit heartbroken when they broke up. Absolutely lost his (already gone) fucking mind when Foundations of Decay came out.

Has a deep buried desire to be loved and held and cared for. Does not know how to express it or attain it. Poor guy is the definition of touch starved.

When he does order food at the diner he keeps it pretty simple. Like a sandwich maybe a BLT if he’s feeling fancy. Mostly it’s pie time bay-bee! Also too much coffee

Pretend to hate Starbucks, says Frappes are just milkshakes with like a drop of coffee in them. Loves to play the Coffee Snob™️. But this motherfucker would inject Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Frappes into his bloodstream if he could!

Speaking of Fall things favorite season right there. He loves Spoopy stuff!

The air getting colder, the leaves changing color, it’s crisper and Gotham is allllllmost a tolerable place to be in. Not when you’re right in the center of the city, that’s dank and nasty. But go to the parks or the outskirts and yeah he can vibe with that.

Is strangely enough a master at hair braiding. He picked up the skill from the Orphanage.

Really loved Roald Dahl books as a kid. Back when he was still innocent and idealistic (before everything went to shit and even a little after in the Orphanage) he would try really hard to see if he had Matilda powers.

Like he’s stand in the bathroom and give himself a migraine trying to flip the switch with his mind. It never worked! 😔✊

Shockingly don’t think he’s an Incel, is he dismissive of other people and outwardly rude? Yes, yes he is! But he just can’t give enough of a fuck about other people to give a shit about who’s having sex and who’s not. Still lonely tho…

I think his parents (to make him sadder, who doesn’t wanna kick around the Blorbo a lil) were/are a Rich Girl who was studying at Gotham University with a Law Degree and the son of her Landlord’s who was also studying. A joint study session or two and they had their little fling and boom! Eddie.

His birth mom is from Metropolis actually! His birth dad disappeared under mysterious circumstances. (Rich Girl’s dad paid him a bunch of money to fuck off out of Gotham and never talk to Ed or his mom ever again)

Neither of them have his last name and his records are hella obscured. Trust me, Eddie tried to find out something, fucking anything.

Rich Girl Mom went on to marry some Rich Boy and she ended up with a MRS. Degree and had two half siblings. She often wonders about him. Saw what happened in Gotham and felt terrible and responsible for how he turned out. Just uh… not enough to like actually reach out and help him.

Eddie hates people but will never be mean to a child. Especially not the children in his building. He likes kids, they’re honest and non-judgmental.

Deep down he still wants a spouse, a nice 4 (one room is his office/man cave) bed and 3 bath house on the outskirts of Gotham with 3.5 kids and Golden Retriever or some shit like that.

Watches/watched too many movies and thinks relationships are supposed to be like a rom-com.

Is in a few Discord servers, has his own for the Riddler but also has like a group of internet geeks he plays D&D and like Jackbox or TF2 with.

He is the D&D Dungeon Master thank you VERY much! When he’s not in charge (he will fight tooth and nail on this) he likes to play Wizards, he’s a classic Elven Wizard guy. Always super high intelligence and Wisdom stats. Has the worst fucking luck on charisma throws, even worse luck when it’s a saving throw.

He had/has friends he just self isolates into a pile of hatred for the world and self loathing so his relationships are shaky.

This dude fucking loves the Sims, Sims 2 is his Nostalgia fave but he really got into the Sims 3 and had played that one the most.

I think he smells nice and doesn’t use like 3 in 1 shampoo. It’s still shit like store brand generic green man soap. But he takes care of his skin and his hair.

Avid wearer of sunscreen, will burn if he doesn’t wear it. Objects majorly to going outside during the summer.

Has one faintly chipped tooth from when he got slammed into a toilet in Middle School.

Was a Library TA in high school. Mainly his senior year since he really didn’t need to take anymore classes other than like an elective (shop class and one more language course. He picked German)

Likes the smell of spearmint, vanilla lotion (especially on a pretty girl), leather, old books and the metallic smell of fresh blood. Also coffee but that was a given.

Can technically cook but chooses not to.

Okay, I really should fucking stop this is already so long. 😖😫 But I love him.

By god I have to add onto this post!

My dude is a raging pansexual, like you all saw how feral he was for Batman.

He has such a weird way of getting crushes on people. One time a cute guy was vaguely nice to him when he got his coffee order and this poor guy already planned out their entire wedding and what they’d name their kids.

Cannot initiate to save his life in those situations. Gets too up in his head and his mean ole brain is like “A you’re disgusting, B. You’re getting distracted from your mission you fucking loser and, C. We gotta circle back to what a gross loser you are.”

If someone showed interest in him he’d short circuit and then assume it was some kind of prank. Please reassure him, he needs it.

As for mental health stuff ima project onto the husband here.

Has BPD, why? The outbursts, getting unhealthy attached to Batman without even knowing him, the mood swings. He just seems like the type.

ADHD my dude lives in organized chaos. Nobody else knows where anything is in his place and that’s how he likes it. He’s got his hyperfixations! Riddles and puzzles being one. Numbers too! He seems like the type of person who would bounce their leg a lot.

Pens are his stim toys, you can bite em, you can tap them, you can click them and they write! 

Tried to go to a gay bar once, he did not make it through the door, mostly sat in his car trying to hype himself up.

Once he got his Riddler outfit tho…. Ooh he was in there and it still freaked him out. Mostly it was him sitting in a corner trying to blend in and lowkey drooling over every hot person that passed him by.

Watched/watched Gravity Falls. He liked Dipper, kinda hates Mabel but not really and full on loves Ford

He’s always hated Harry Potter, thought it was stupid and whenever someone asked him what his house was he’d be like “I don’t have a Hogwarts house because I’m not a child.

Green Apple and Lime are the best flavors fight him.

He used to drink like way too much Monster and other energy drinks but they kinda give him heart palpitations now so he sticks to coffee.

He likes arcades, there’s one that’s been around forever by his place. The folks who own the place are pretty nice to him.

Very pinchable cheeks. You knew tho!

Wears socks in bed! His peets get cold.

[bridgetotheskyyy]

AHHH! You like Kisuke? Do you do any imagines for him? If you do what are some sfw and nsfw imagines you have for him?

OMG KISUKE! Okay, while I don’t do imagines I’d do anything for Kissy.

― NSFW

Kisuke is, indeed, an exceedingly kinky, perverted motherfucker. But like all things pertaining to him, he’d prefer to lay low. He doesn’t propose anything particularly kinky; he prefers you do it. He likes forcing you to ask for what you want, getting you all flustered and red-faced before giving in. He likes bringing out the kinkiness in you, getting you to admit it. In reality, there isn’t much he’d refuse ― both due to his perv nature and having an inherently curious personality.

Ridiculously voyeuristic, just really — sometimes not even in a sexual context but usually. He watches and spies on you even when you don’t know he’s looking. That’s why I think it’d be quite a treat for him if you let him watch you masturbate. He wouldn’t ask you to (that would take some fun out of it for him, tbh), but if you came to the conclusion that it would turn him on and invited him to watch you play with yourself I’m sure his head would explode from the nosebleed. Especially if you let him give you instructors. Fuckin’ SPLOOSH.

Anything involving lips and mouths is very erotic to him. Kisses. Licks. ✨Tongue kissing✨. Even seeing you with lipstick can get him a little excited. Kisuke’s a very oral person, and that includes in a sexual context; he’s more of a giver than a receiver, though. Of course he relishes in the sight of your tongue dancing over his cockhead, or seeing his whole cock disappear in your mouth, but something about seeing you squirm and moan as he goes down on you is just A+ to him. Loves being in control of your pleasure.

Loves to tease you throughout the day and wants you to to reciprocate. He loves getting you hot and bothered when he knows there’s little you can do about it. Innuendos and little suggestive comments, even a grazing his hand over your ass as he walks by. It only gets more exciting if ― when, you hear me? When ― you begin to tease him back; sucking on lollipops or ice cream bars in a particularly racy manner (tongues and lips yes PLEASE), bending forward, letting him get a look at that ass (A+++++ if you’re wearing a skirt and no panties), and just carrying yourself with a generally coquettish manner is bound to send him through the roof. In Kisuke’s mind, the buildup just makes the eventual sex even better come nightfall (or whenever you give into temptation and shove him into the nearest supply closet).

― SFW

A very secretive lover, I’d imagine ― not because he doesn’t respect or trust you, quite the opposite, really. Anyone he began a relationship he would automatically trust. He just prefers to keep a lot of his plans to himself, especially if they’re not fully formed and inchoate; it frustrates him to have to explain or talk about something he hasn't fully thought out. He’s also a very humble man; he doesn’t really care to boast about how much of a genius he is unless your Mayruri. You’re never so out of the dark that you start to distrust him, though ― he never lets it’s get to that point. He drops hints, he engineers little scenarios where you accidentally discover his journals, scribbled with his inner thoughts. And, of course, once he’s finally ready to reveal his plans he shares them in full, not holding back (unless he has the idea that something will work better if no one but him knew a detail or two). And he’ll tell you his thoughts first, before Tessai or even Yoruichi.

I think he’d prefer a lover who had a lot of independence; he wouldn’t particularly mind a little clingy partner, but he vastly prefers someone he knows has a vibrant life outside of him. It adds to your mystique if he can think about you during the day ― What are you doing? Talking to? Thinking about? It makes you sexier to him, and he actually enjoys missing you a bit. And, honestly, likes to spend a lot of time alone himself, going over drafts for inventions and thinking over his plans. He has this in common with Aizen.

He’s used to fawning over others and getting smacked or jabbed or yelled at (Lookin at you, Hiyori), so I think he just loves it when you touch first. It doesn’t have to be spicy, either; caressing his face, playing with his hair in the night while his head lays in your lap or on your chest, tugging on the hem of his jacket when you want his attention, kissing him first. All of this makes him feel appreciated and is guaranteed to send his heart aflutter.

All around the chillest boyfriend you could have in the Bleach verse (second only Chill Lo-fi King Shunsui, of course). He doesn’t have too many hang ups or anything, and he’s the opposite of demanding. He’s, like, *checks thesaurus* undemanding! Yeah, that. Very much at ease most the time. When he’s not thinking up inventions or schemes, he’s simple enjoying the peaceful life. Being exiled from the Seireitei freed him and the simple, leisurely life of a shopkeeper suits him far better than responsibility of captain. It was just the belief that he hurt the Visords that hurt him.

But yeah, like I said, not demanding. The only thing he asks of you, really, is please don’t touch his things without him knowing ― for privacy reasons and because some of his inventions could potentially hurt you. He doesn’t want you or anybody else getting injured because he wasn’t there to advise.

I could go on forever but I actually think I may be at my limit here. This is all top-of-my-head stuff! I'm always down for some kisuke thirsting, though, so keep 'em cumin.

[thiswholewideworld]

so I haven’t posted on tumblr in a few years, but I just saw MCR in nashville last night. I don’t quite have the words to describe what they mean to me but I wanted to share a few things about my experience just in case someone out there is interested.

we were in the literal nosebleeds and while I was honestly just happy to be in the room I was kinda wishing I had spent just a little more to get closer even though I know I didn’t have more to spend on them anyway. but a little bit after dilly dally (who were great!!) went off, these two guys came up to my sister and I. one of the guys said he had some bracelets for us and both of us kinda thought it was like a weird flirting tactic or something lol. then he said they would get us into the GA section and I literally stopped breathing. he showed us the way to the pit and I was literally trying not to cry cause I was like ok this is either a prank or they’re trying to kidnap us. but we got in no problem and we remain unkidnapped so I’m now convinced those guys were actually some kind of angels in disguise lol. I called my mom and just started sobbing trying to tell her what happened and I’m sure I looked insane but I literally did not care at all.

so long story short, by some miracle I went from nosebleeds to twenty feet away from American rock band My Chemical Romance, the band that I love more than anything else in this world. I will never recover and I don’t want to

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Apologies if this has been asked for a prompt, but how about one where they discover the real origins of the curse (like how they do in the last one) but in 1978 so they’re able to save Tommy? Can we also pretend it’s early on so he doesn’t end up killing anybody A very dramatic yet happy ending as Cindy ends up living but obvi the reader and Tommy are together and they get their own 70s version of “burgers and the pixies” :)

Hello :)) I love this prompt and this is also technically a semi-sequel to "are you in there?" where basically they tie him up and Cindy and Alice do what they need to in order to break the curse :)

Pizza and Aerosmith (Tommy Slater x Reader)

Warnings: major character death, blood mention/described, axe violence mentioned, devil shit mentioned, cursing, betrayal, attempted violence, minor angst, kissing, not proof read sorry

Word Count: 4.9k

"Her body wasn't there!" Alice yelled, throwing down her trowel and her walkie talkie. They'd told you about ten minutes before that they were heading back to the cabin, and you'd expected them to be carrying a bag of bones in tow. You and Arnie's heads snapped to her and Cindy, and your mouth fell open for a minute as you tried to think of what to say. Of what to do.

That night, your boyfriend had been possessed. If it had been six hours ago, you wouldn't have believed it yourself. But, after the four of you had found his name carved into solid stone and he nearly went for an axe to chop up Arnie, it was hard to deny.

You'd dragged him to your cabin. You weren't supposed to be supervising color war, so there was no reason anyone should've come to get you. And, well, you couldn't exactly let your boyfriend near anyone. You'd had to tie him up and leave him on your bed, where he continuously squirmed and tried to harm pretty much anyone within a certain distance to him. That alone made you positive that this wasn't your Tommy.

"Well, what do you mean it wasn't there?" Arnie asked as he stood up. They were talking, explaining, too fast for you to catch up. The body was there. The body wasn't there.

"Maybe you dug in the wrong place." You said, trying to be hopeful, and Cindy proceeded to lift up a rock. Written on it was, The witch forever lives. Shit, alright. Maybe they didn't dig in the wrong place.

But, that left the four of you in a deep pile of shit. What were you supposed to do? How would you find Sarah Fiers body? It had been over three hundred years, and Nurse Lanes diary was about the only insight you had! You sat on the bed, ignoring Tommy's jerking and grunts. You reached out to place a hand on his arm as you stared at the wall across from you.

You'd promised him you'd get him free of this. That the four of you would do what you needed to in order to help him. Alice and Arnie had already suggested- You weren't even going to think about it. You didn't care if finding the body sounded impossible. You'd successfully found the hand, and not even Nurse Lane had been able to do that. You could all find her body too. You went over everything you knew of the curse in your mind, and interrupted whatever fight Alice and Cindy were having to say,

"The blood." And they both turned. You looked up, at the three of them. "The blood. Blood falls whenever Sarah Fier is near. We just have to walk around camp and wait-"

"Wait until one of us gets a nosebleed? Are you serious?" Alice interrupted, and Arnie was quick to join in.

"That could take all night!" Arnie said, and you gave each of them a look. It was better than their idea. And, even if Arnie and Alice did seem particularly cynical about everything, for a second- Just for a second you'd seen how much they wanted to end this. For Tommy, for Shadyside. And there was really only one way to make this go faster.

"It wouldn't if you had more help."

***

At first, they'd thought just you and Arnie, but your plan stretched farther than that. It was why Joan, Gary, Ziggy, and, to all of your surprise, Nick Goode, stood in your cabin, staring at the tied up form of your boyfriend.

"Y'know, when Joan and I were talking about the curse earlier, we were just messing with you guys." Gary said, and part of your stomach sank when Joan agreed with,

"Yeah, this is way trippy." You knew it was going to be hard to convince them. You knew it was a long shot in total darkness but what else could you do?

"We know this sounds crazy," Cindy started, and you were happy she was the one taking over. Out of all of you, she was the one that would never play a prank like this. And if she believed it- Well. "We can even show you what we found, but we have to do it quick. Tommy- From what we know, he doesn't have a lot of time and-"

"I believe you." Nick interrupted, and you watched as Ziggy was quick to turn to him.

"What?" She quickly asked, an incredulous look on her face. And, while the sisters were as different as could be, you could see the resemblance between them when it came to their skepticism. Nick looked at her, even reached out to place a hand on her arm.

"Look at him, Ziggy. That's- That's Tommy Slater. He couldn't even kill the rat they found in the kitchen earlier in the month and now he's-" He glanced over at him just as Tommy let out a particularly hard thrash, and you tried to calm him. You shushed him, pushing his hair out of his face. His forehead was sweaty from all his exertion, his arms straining against the rope. Having more people in the room seemed to aggravate him more, and you watched as his teeth bit the gag in his mouth. "And Nurse Lane attacking him? Really, is it so hard to believe that it's all connected? That it's all..." He didn't need to finish for you to know where he was going, but he did anyways. "Sarah Fier?" For a moment, you nearly swore that you wanted to hug the kid. You glanced back over, watching as Ziggy looked between you and Tommy.

You'd never been close to her. Sure, you were friends with her sister, but, from what you'd heard from Cindy, they were hardly close either. But, you gave her a tilt of your head and you watched as she let out a small sigh and a roll of her eyes.

"What do you even need us to do?"

***

Cindy and Alice were going to take them to see what they'd found, to convince those that still needed an extra push, and then go find the body of Sarah Fier. You'd explained to them that at least two people needed to watch Tommy at all times, and that's when Nick Goode surprised you again.

"I can stay with him." He offered, and you'd given him a confused look. You and Arnie quickly shared a glance. The two of you had been watching Tommy all night, had an unspoken bond, a similar one to the one Cindy and Alice were building, already. "Arnie can go with his girlfriend and I can stay here." And you didn't miss the glance he sent towards Cindy. She'd been glaring at him the second he seemed just a little too familiar with her sister. You supposed he didn't want to spend the rest of the night caught in her group, and, well, part of you couldn't blame him. Especially when she quickly agreed. While the groups got ready to part ways, Arnie quietly asked you,

"You okay with this?" And you bit your lip for a moment. You should be. The Nick kid, while you didn't know him well, was always the nicest out of the Sunnyvale counselors. And, well, he was the only one that actually believed you. Completely believed you. And you knew that if you were in Arnie's shoes, you'd want to tag along with Alice. Really, you couldn't think of a reason to say no. So, why did you have a pit in your stomach?

"Yeah, sure. Just- Get this over with quick, okay?" You asked him, and he gave you a nod and a smile. He held out his hand for a fist bump, and you gave him one. Last second, you handed him the second walkie talkie that you'd given to Alice before, and quietly told him, "Keep it on, okay?" And, while his eyes had been confused, he'd given you a nod.

You'd been trying to conserve the batteries all night, but, with the pit in your stomach, you didn't want to take any chances.

***

Cindy, Alice, and Arnie took the others to see the room they'd found. That alone was enough proof the show that they weren't fucking around. That this wasn't some sort of sick prank. Though, as they walked out of the room, Ziggy still had questions,

"Well, yeah- I get this being a curse and all, but who lit the candle? Who wrote his name?" And Joan was quick to add,

"Yeah, like, you guys were with Tommy all day so it's not like he wrote himself." And the three of them paused. They'd been so caught up in trying to break the curse, in trying to save Tommy, that they hadn't really thought about who'd doomed him in the first place.

"This is so weird. And why Tommy? Tommys- Tommy. Why would someone choose him?" Gary asked, and the three of them were stumped. Tommy wasn't a jerk that made enemies with a lot of people. He was nice to everyone, even those that weren't nice to him. And why would they choose a camp counselor? Didn't they know that he'd be surrounded by children?

"I- We don't know." Cindy said, and the six of them walked through the little storage room. Cindy shined her flashlight in front of her as she thought, wondering just who would choose Tommy Slater to be the next Shadyside Killer. Cindy couldn't stop thinking about it even as they broke off in pairs and started looking for the body.

As she walked with her sister, she glanced over at Arnie and Alice, who were heading a different direction. She watched as he played with the walkie talkie in his hands, and, for a moment, she had a small sinking feeling in her chest before she pushed on.

***

At least with Arnie, you kind of knew what to talk to him about. You were at least sort of friends, since both of you were Shadyside counselors. You could talk about how stupid color war was, about the places back in town. Arnie had even asked you a few questions about Tommy, which you'd been happy to answer.

But Nick? You'd thanked him for staying, and then the pair of you sat in silence as you tried to keep Tommy calm. Gently, you pat him with a wet washcloth to try to cool down his fever. You tried not to think about what Nurse Lane had said as you did. One way or another, you're gonna die tonight. You wondered what would happen if he continued to resist the curse, and your heart tightened at the idea. You shook your head. You weren't going to let that happen. The others had been gone for awhile, almost two hours, so they were due to check back sooner rather than later. Hopefully, one of the groups would have good news. You ran the wash cloth over his cheeks as you said,

"After this, we're gonna get pizza and listen to Aerosmith all night. Watch a few movies, maybe. You like the sound of that?" You asked, even if he couldn't respond. Even if the only thing he sent you was a nasty glare. With a sigh, you wished for the moments where he'd look at you like you put the sun in the sky.

You turned around when you heard something fall, and you stared in confusion as you watched Nick reach for Tommy's bat. He'd left it here once, and you'd put the axe he'd gotten from that room right besides it. You stood when you watched him grip it.

"Nick?" You asked, and you watched as he turned around. He had a smile on his face, the same charming smile he'd given Ziggy, but the pit in your stomach returned. You glanced down at the bat, just as he started to explain,

"Oh, y'know- In case, he gets free." He said, and you glanced down at the way he was holding it again. The way his hands changed grip. You didn't like what he was implying, first of all. You didn't want to hurt Tommy, you wanted to help him. That was the point of all this. You'd lived in Shadyside all your life, and maybe that gave you a better bullshit detector than most. Or, maybe, part of you had become so used to things going to shit that now you could smell it. Quietly, you said,

"He won't get free." And you shuffled your feet. You stood in front of him almost defensively, but, part of you didn't think it was Tommy you needed to protect. He gave you a smile and a shrug, and then you glanced over at the walkie talkie you'd put on your desk. The second you did, the second your eyes left him, Nick moved. You didn't know what was happening, not truly, but you knew that it was bad. You snatched the walkie talkie and ducked out of the way of his swing. You turned it on as you hauled ass to the bathroom, side-stepping him as he tried to grab you, and slammed your back against the bathroom door to keep it shut as you fumbled with the lock. You heard him banging on the door, heard the knob moving as he tried to get it open, and then he stopped. It sent a chill up your spine to hear silence on the other side. Finally, you pulled up the antenna, pressed the button, and yelled into the walkie talkie,

***

"Code red! Code red!" Came screaming out in your voice from the walkie talkie so loud that Arnie swore he almost jumped a mile. He was quick to answer with a shout of your name, and a,

"What's going on? What's wrong?" And Alice backtracked from where she walked in front. They could hear the panic in your voice as you yelled back,

"Arnie! Thank god! Come back to the cabin right now it's-" And the line went dead. You must've taken your hand off of the button, and the silence sent a chill up both of their backs. The only thing they could hear was the sound of crickets and wind. They hadn't even stumbled across a camper yet, and the woods felt empty and ready to swallow the pair of them.

Alice and Arnie stared at eachother for a moment. They'd been walking aimlessly, the maps Cindy had made up in their hands. A second of unspoken words passed between them, and then they were both sprinting back towards your cabin.

***

When Ziggy stepped on the red moss, she made a noise of disgust and lifted her foot. It has stained her shoes, and she quickly asked,

"Ugh, what is this stuff?" And Cindy looked up from her map. She'd carefully given each pair a third of the camp to search over. With two people to comb through each section, they should've been able to find it at least within the night. They were supposed to check back She looked around at the red moss, recognizing it as the same moss from the outhouse. From the caves under the outhouse. She glanced around, looking where it grew.

"Holy shit." She said, and quickly walked towards the rock. She looked around, and her sister arched a brow at her. In disbelief, she asked,

"Did you just swear?" And Cindy quickly waved her off. She was spinning around, quickly stepping through the moss with a big smile on her face. She probably looked insane, but Cindy didn't care. They'd needed another sign, another thing to look for. She felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

"The moss!" But Ziggy gave a small shake of her head. She didn't understand. Cindy pulled the hand out of her bag and held it up. She pointed at it as she said, "We found this in the red moss. This," She said pointing around. "Might be apart of the curse!" And Ziggy's eyes widened in understanding. Quickly, she echoed,

"Holy shit!" And the pair of them were quick to start looking. It only took a second for them to each get on their knees and start searching through the moss. It only took a few minutes for Ziggy to feel warmth dripping down out of her nose, and she swore she'd never been so happy to get a nosebleed ever in her life. Quickly, she called, "Over here!" And Cindy scrambled over. They started searching through the spot, and when they finally dusted the dirt off to find a ribcage, they were both so happy they could nearly scream. They cleaned it off further, completely unearthing the body of Sarah Fier. And, finally, Cindy held the hand in both of hers and gave Ziggy a look. This was it. Ziggy reached out, and together they out the hand back with the rest of Sarah Fier.

***

Arnie practically ripped your screen door off it's hinges as they ran into your cabin. He wasn't thinking clearly, wasn't thinking about what he was doing. All he knew was that you sounded like you were in trouble and now-

He ran into Nick. The brunette grabbed him by the arms, and looked scared out of his wits. The words were leaving his lips so fast that Arnie almost didn't have time to process.

"I thought I heard something outside so I went- I went to see if it was one of you and then I heard screaming and now-" And Arnie cut him off.

"Where's Tommy? Where's y/n?" He demanded, and Alice was right behind him now. She gasped when she saw the mess of the bathroom door. It had been axed nearly in half, before being pushed open. She was quick to run towards it, and Arnie pushed Nick away from him to the same. There was a mess of wood over the floor, but there was no blood. And, when they spotted the open window, a glimmer of hope went through both of them.

You were resourceful and smart. Of course you'd gone through the window. It dimmed a bit however when they saw the broken walkie talkie. Alice picked it up. The antenna was barely hanging off of it and the body looked crushed, stomped on. Getting in contact with you was now near impossible, but they had hope that you were still out there. Arnie turned back to watch as Nick paced, seeming to lose his mind over what had happened. He looked like a ball of nerves, and Arnie could understand why. He'd been gone for one minute and everything had gone to shit. Though, as Arnie looked back at Alice, he saw something there. She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, and Arnie wasn't surprised when she asked,

"Did you look for them? Do you know what direction they went?" And, when Nick shook his head, his story started to make a little less sense. The pair of them shared a look, and they had a brief moment of silent communication. How did Nick come back when he heard screaming and not see where Tommy went? Axing down a door didn't take a matter of seconds, it took minutes. And you sure as hell wouldn't have started screaming just before Tommy got the door open. So, the real question was, how did Nick miss you? The couple glanced over at Nick, but didn't say a word. Instead, Arnie asked him,

"So what do we do?" And they were relieved that at least his first idea was to get all the campers out of there.

***

Your thighs burned as you hid. Outrunning Tommy simply wasn't an option, but your mind was on hyperdrive as you tried to process the last five minutes of your life. Nick Goode was a dick. Whatever he'd been trying to achieve, it had ended up with Tommy getting loose. You thought maybe he was going to do what Alice had suggested at the very beginning of the night. Take care of Tommy to make sure no one else got hurt. Instead, now, you were trying to keep yourself from getting axed by your very own boyfriend. Not to mention, you were trying to keep him away from the direction of the kids. Sure, yes, you were hiding and running from him. But, you were also making sure that you were the one he stayed in pursuit of. It was a fragile balance, and you glanced around before you stood up to find a new hiding place.

You nearly screamed when you ran into someone, but you quickly ripped Ziggy and Cindy down behind a bush. The words left your mouth in a quick whisper as you started,

"Guys, I have so much to tell you. Nick Goode-" But Ziggy was finishing your sentence.

"Is a total douche." Her voice was laced with venom, and she sounded pissed. Betrayed, even. And you gave them each a confused look. You looked between them and asked,

"You know?" Your surprise was laced in your voice. How did they know? How could they know? But, Cindy was quick to explain.

"When we put the hand back with her body, we saw the truth."

"We saw everything." Ziggy added, and you looked back to Cindy when she continued,

"The Goode family is the reason for the curse. They made a deal with the devil, so Sunnyvale could prosper and they've been feeding him Shadyside blood!" And you stared at them. Really, hours ago, you would've thought they were both on drugs. But now? After watching your boyfriend get possessed, finding a creepy bone hand, and getting almost fed to your possessed boyfriend by the Sheriff's son? You'd believe Santa was real.

"Nick Goode just completely fucked everything up, and now Tommy's loose." You whispered, and their eyes widened. The three of you looked between eachother, and then around. You couldn't see anything in the dark, but you felt like an ant trapped under a magnifying glass as Ziggy whispered what you were all thinking,

"Shit." And you gave her a nod. Now that you were thinking about it, you had no idea if Nick even knew. He'd tried to kill your boyfriend to save everyone, and it turns out his family was the reason for the curse? God, how the hell were you going to explain that? You gripped each of them as Cindy continued again,

"But that's not the worst of it." She said, and you gave her a confused look. What could be worse than all of this? Nothing could've prepared you for the words she said. "Nick Goode picked Tommy. He's the reason Tommy's possessed." And you felt white hot anger replace every ounce of your fear.

***

When Arnie and Alice watched Ruby Lane climb out of the grate in the middle of the kitchen, more of a black sludge becoming the figure of the dead serial killer, they thought tonight couldn't have gotten any weirder. The only way to make it worse was that Nick had run out of the room, and Arnie had to knock his shoulder against the door to stop him from locking it behind him. They had already guessed that he was a back-stabbing little bitch, especially when they had to force him to stay to wait for the rest of you instead of getting on the bus with the campers, but this? Oh, they were going to kill him if they got out of this alive.

When she started to walk towards them, they were quick to head towards the door, only to watch as you, Cindy, and Ziggy ran inside. And guess who was only a few feet behind you? Tommy.

"Shit!" Alice said as they slammed the door closed, and they quickly did their best to stop him from pushing it open and getting inside. But, to their surprise, they watched as you practically snarled,

"You." At the brunette. You ran, tackling him to the ground before he could try to escape. Even if the crazy bitch from the sixties was quick to come out of the kitchen and you had to roll off of him before she slashed you with a razor. You dodged the milkman as Nick tried to run, as the killers quickly turned on Ziggy and Cindy. You knew, to some degree, you were the best person, one of the only people, that could go after him. You'd seen it when you ran from Tommy. He'd specifically tried to go after them, completely ignoring a prime opportunity to swing at you when you tripped on the way over. Because of whatever the Berman's had seen, it was like they had a target on their back. And you had a pretty good idea as to how you were supposed to end all of it.

"Watch out!" Ziggy yelled as you tried to get away from who you quickly realized was Ruby Lane, and as a man in a jumpsuit with a knife tried to slash Cindy. Cindy threw you her shovel, even as she dodged and ran from the man. She yelled,

"Don't let him get away!" And you knew what you had to do. You ran after him, seeing that he was climbing down into the hole below. He looked up just as you went to swing, and, you watched him panic. You watched as he lost whatever grip he had, as he fell into the hole rather than climbed down. You were about to climb down after him, about to make sure this was finished. Instead, you heard- a laugh?

You and the rest of your friends stood above the hole in the kitchen, staring down at it. The killers had disappeared, gone in a poof. The kids were safe on the bus, already heading back to town. And Nick Goode was dead. When he fell, he must've hit his head. Broken his neck. It was a quick death, one that could've happened to anyone. If anything, it could be labelled an accident.

"Should we check?" Alice asked, and the five of you looked between eachother, and then down at the hole. It was tempting. To see the body of the man that had done something so evil lay lifeless. It was Cindy that answered her.

"Nah, just let him rot down there." And, ultimately, you agreed. Arnie reached to close the grate, sliding it in place. The five of you nearly jumped out of your skin when Gary and Joan barged in the kitchen door, and paused when they saw you all standing around it.

"Why's Tommy knocked out outside?" Gary said, pointing with his thumb, and you gave him a smile as the others started to laugh out of relief.

***

You and Tommy sat on the rock in the middle of the woods. It was the one Cindy had labelled on your map. You'd gotten a large pie of pizza, and his little radio was blasting Aerosmith as you enjoyed the summer afternoon.

The camp had closed, and the News ran with the story. An axe murderer had wandered onto the camp grounds of Camp Nightwing, but, due to the heroism of it's counselors, not a single camper had been hurt. Tommy Slater, in particular, was famed for having distracted and fought the killer long enough to let the campers escape, to the point where certain counselors had at first thought he was to blame. And, when the police asked the only eye-witnesses to the crime, all of them had said one name.

Nick Goode.

It wasn't until a week later that anyone had found the body of Nick Goode in the caves, and the police hadn't known what to make of the discovery. With eight eye-witnesses and a cave full of occult shit, it was hard to cover up or deny. So, now, the News circled with the story of Nick Goode, the first Sunnyvale Killer.

Tommy handed you a bag of fries as the pair of you ate, and you smiled as you looked over at him. In the sunlight, the copper in his hair shined and his eyes practically glowed. The look in his eyes had returned, the one that he gave you. The one where he looked at you like you put the sun in the sky.

"So, this is her, huh?" Tommy said, pointing with his foot at the red moss. You nodded, taking another bite.

"Yeah, she saved us." You said, a small smile on your face. You wanted to visit for that exact reason. To silently tell her thanks, and to meet the girl that saved your lives. Tommy knocked his shoulder against yours, and you looked up at him.

"No," He said with a small shake of his head. "You saved me. You never gave up on me." He said, and your eyes softened. You looked at him, leaning in as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I heard you, y'know. Fighting for me. And I'm sorry I-"

"No, don't apologize." You told him quickly, reaching out to hold his hand. "That wasn't you." You told him, and you watched how the words made him tilt his head. How they soothed whatever ache he still had in him. Whatever regrets. You knew he was hard on himself, that part of him probably blamed himself for giving in. For what he could've done. Softly, you added, "Did you hear all the times I told you I loved you?" And you watched how he smiled, how the clouds of his regret seemed to fade. He gave you a small nod, and you smiled back. He leaned in to kiss you, and you met him halfway.

[memetaped]

star trek: deep space 9 taken from the tv show.

come on, let’s get you home. 

looks like you need a new bandage. 

it’s good to see you got your appetite back.

you’re lucky you only got singed.

i need to know that you’re here, safe. that way, a part of me will always be safe, too.

get your hands off of me, before i do something i’ll regret.

we’ll see each other again soon. that’s a promise.

whatever it is you’ve been through has taken its toll.

that boy’s life is in our hands, and i won’t let anybody give up on him.

there are too many ways to get into serious trouble here.

get some hot chocolate and tell me about it.

you can channel your feelings of aggression in other ways.

this is important. you and i. things change, but not this.

you’re a great boy, you know that?

you have to leave me here and go on by yourself.

but the thing about dreams is, if you talk about them, they kind of go away faster.

now that kid is here under my protection, and i swear, if you do anything to hurt them, i will make you regret it. is that clear?

everyone has to have someone to confide in, someone to hear their stories.

my heart is too big.

the boy’s in a lot of trouble.

everything’s gonna be all right, but you have to try and stay awake for me.

if you were hurt, i’d leave you behind.

hold on, i’m not finished with you.

my dear, you should not be here.

it’s just a nosebleed.

hey, who said anything about being scared?

everyone went out of their way to look after me.

it takes a lot of courage to admit you’re wrong.

you run now, i won’t be able to protect you.

give me that before you hurt yourself.

i don’t need counseling, or relaxation, or time to adjust. i just want to be left alone.

get out.

and i am gonna pray, because i don’t know what else to do.

care for a root beer?

i’ve always loved you. even when i hated you.

before you volunteer too quickly, understand what you’re getting into.

do not hug me.

mom?

i’m not afraid, papa.

you’ve been so kind to me.

i’ve said my piece. sorry for butting in.

you know, why don’t we just call it a day? you obviously have other things on your mind.

i feel sick when i eat. i have pains in my head, in my chest.

you keep moving around, you won’t need any nurse.

i’ve known nothing but violence since i was a child.

what the hell has gotten into your head?

so, now you’re hiding things from me?

i think i could handle some soup.

save your strength

a sharp knife is nothing without a sharp eye.

so, my young friend, what do you think we’re looking at?

confession is good for the soul.

i’m gonna stay here, take care of the wounded. that includes you.

that’s a very personal question.

is this some kind of joke?

look at me. i need to know you’re going to be all right.

hold on, i’m not finished with you.

continually distracted, depressed, and agitated.

you always tighten your brow just a tiny bit whenever you’re about to ask a question.

it’s so small even i can’t stand up in there. look, i’m developing a slouch.

the one good thing about going away is coming home.

you don’t want me hanging around here? fine. i’ll do my thinking someplace else.

i don’t know who’s going to hear this. i don’t even know if i’ll be alive by the time this log is recovered.

we have rights, including the right to be as stubborn or thickheaded as we want.

i know it’s too difficult to speak right now. just rest.

you might say it came to me in a vision.

what are you doing up? you’re supposed to be in bed.

i’ll miss you.

and you’ve got a lot of nerve complaining about being cold when you’re the one wearing the jacket.

the last thing i want is to become a burden to you.

rudeness will get you nowhere.

okay? i’ve forgotten “okay.”

keep your eyes and ears open, follow orders, and try not to get in the way.

it’s not a trick, it’s a choice.

that’s how i think of you. and maybe that’s why sometimes, it’s hard for me to relax around you.

it’s a treatment, not a cure. it’ll prevent hallucinations, take the edge off the depression, but that’s all it’ll do.

you know, that was a very ugly thing you just said.

right now, my head is swimming in bloodwine and i’m going to bed, and so should you.

i’m a little tired. didn’t get much sleep last night.

i appreciate your concern, but i’ll grieve in my own way, in my own time. 

we’ve come to care about what happens to these people.

i know that you’ve been working with the maquis, and right now, i don’t care.

are you some kind of anarchist?

when you take someone’s life, you lose a part of your own as well.

home! i want to go home!

besides, i could never live with myself if something happened to you.

now we either freeze to death or starve to death. take your pick.

isn’t there someone you can talk to? someone you trust?

that’s right. it’s okay. everything’s going to be fine.

take my word for it, you’ll survive.

i don’t know about you, but it’s past my bedtime.

do you want to come color with me?

look, i’m not asking you to like me or to be my friend. i’m asking you to join me, to fight at my side.

sealing the entranceway was a risky thing to do. you nearly brought the whole ceiling down on yourself.

i can’t feel my legs.

“a needle in a haystack” wouldn’t do this job justice.

you ought to get some rest.

don’t deny the violence inside of you. only when you accept it can you move beyond it.

make sure to put your plate in the replicator, sweetie.

you know, it’s attitudes like that that keep you people from getting invited to all the really good parties.

i feel like someone just walked over my grave.

we need to get you to the infirmary.

enough. you’re pushing yourself too hard.

if that’s how you remember it, you must’ve hit your head harder than i thought you did.

you should take a break. you’ve been working nonstop for days.

well, you tried being alone and it hasn’t done any good. so maybe it’s time to stop brooding and start talking.

are you part of my family?

my leg is broken.

i’ve been looking all over for you.

you’re suffering from a severe form of amnesia.

speak up for yourself while you’re here, okay?

things that would send cold chills down your spine and wake you in the middle of the night.

i’m the one who should be struggling to stay conscious. i’m the one who’s in excruciating pain.

not just a bad dream – bad memories.

are you two fighting again?

i don’t want your sympathy and i don’t need your advice!

you stay a while longer if you want to, but you have to promise me, when the time comes and i tell you to go, you’ll do it.

look, i know it’s too late for an apology. but for what it’s worth, i’m sorry.

why don’t you go to your quarters and lie down for a while?

everyone keeps looking at me. they’re afraid of me.

i’d never felt more alone in all my life.

i’m half-frozen. i haven’t eaten for days. my muscles won’t work anymore!

what you experienced was an artificial reality, an interactive program that created memories of things that never actually happened.

what could be more important than dom-jot?

i’m not sleeping. i’m checking my eyelids for holes.

i’ve found that when it comes to doing what’s best for you, you humanoids have the distressing habit of doing the exact opposite.

you’re going to give yourself indigestion.

speaking of pain, this is probably going to hurt.

i never thought i would say this to you, but you are listening to your heart, not your head.

would you please go on vacation and get out of our hair?

you should take things easy for a while. 

i wish there was something i could do. some way i could promise you that everything is going to be okay.

i’ve done some things i’m not proud of. 

i want to stay with you.

my weakness is i’m too generous, too forgiving.

oh, this is one stubborn infection. how long have you had it?

just to “speak up for myself”, i’m feeling a little betrayed here.

the best way to survive a knife fight is to never get in one.

you can annoy me, bait me, question my very existence. but in the end, we both know i’ve won.

i haven’t seen one of these since i was a kid.

it’s a good weapon – solid, simple. you can drag it through the mud and it’ll still fire.

i’m sorry, i hope i haven’t offended anyone.

little children do that.

you know, eventually, you’re going to have to stop talking and deal with this.

if you come with me, you can be a soldier again.

i still wish you’d given me a little more warning.

you can’t expect me to cure it overnight.

i used to dream about you coming to save me. that’s what kept me alive.

you’ve never had those feelings. you don’t know what it means to really care about another person.

let me put it another way. i don’t want to play cards, and even if i did, i wouldn’t want to play with you.

what’s next? do you want to apologize to me? express your sympathy?

i think you went to your quarters last night and you tossed and turned in bed, because you knew some of the things you said to me concerned me.

you’ve got all the emotions of a stone. no offense.

because i have the bad habit of telling the truth even when people don’t want to hear it.

i’m always suspicious of people who are eager to help a police officer.

for as long as i can remember, i have always been an outsider.

you were wounded. try not to move around.

terrorists don’t get to be heroes.

i’ve never needed a friend more than i do right now.

i cried for you. i missed you so much.

we need to stop the bleeding. we better get you up to the ship.

i’m not afraid of you.

for the moment, why don’t you relax? try not to be so tense, take it easy.

we don’t belong in this time. we’re from the future.

you federation types are all alike. you talk about tolerance and understanding, but you only practice it towards people who remind you of yourselves.

now, i think we should concentrate on getting you comfortable with this weapon.

out there, there are no saints, just people – angry, scared, determined people who are going to do whatever it takes to survive, whether it meets with the federation’s approval or not.

yeah, i just banged my head on something.

it’s life. you can miss it if you don’t open your eyes.

i should have known you’d develop feelings for these people you’ve been living with for the past few years.

there’s nothing you can do. um, i just need some time.

i’ll teach you. it’s a very simple game.

you don’t deserve it. nobody does.

and you want to know why you don’t scare me? because i’m already more scared than i’ve ever been in my life.

oh, please. i’m suffering enough without having to listen to your smug federation sympathy.

i know what it’s like to worry about a child.

last night, it sounded like a takaran wildebeest was tromping around up there.

do you remember my face? even a little?

between you and me, those people have every right to defend themselves.

there’s a time for levity, my young friend, and a time for genuine concern.

why? why do you care so much?

i have to save you from yourself.

just because a group of people belong to the federation, that does not mean that they are saints.

life is yours for the taking. all you have to do is reach out and grab it.

no one on this station is better than anyone else. we’re all equal.

that’s why i came to you, because i knew you’d protect me. you will protect me, won’t you?

just because we don’t understand a life-form, doesn’t mean we can destroy it.

oh, we’re all very good at conjuring up enough fear to justify whatever we want to do.

it’s an expression of affection that you find difficult to accept.

look, i just don’t want anything to happen to you.

as your friend, i have to tell you i’m worried about you.

have i ever told you how much i hate that smug, superior attitude of yours?

and as for bedside manner, i’ve known nicer voles.

you’re the terrorist. you tell me.

i repaid kindness with blood. i was no better than an animal.

you don’t know what it means to care about someone, do you?

i’ll try to keep my problems more quiet next time. 

are you sure you’re all right?

oh, i slept like an alvanian cave sloth.

just watch your back. you’re in danger.

the thing i don’t understand is why you pretended to be my friend.

i have to say goodbye to you.

[the1975attheirverybest]

I was in the gc where Taylor's jet was tracked (I left), the Maylor people who you guys are talking about now weren't even on there. Actually one of them was trashed on there.

No, no! I’m not talking about any one specific individual (apart from Emily and only because someone brought her up so I replied to them, not because I’m publicly shaming her or whatever). I make no distinctions about who said what to whom or who went where. 1. That would be immature of me. 2. None of my business. And 3. That’s not even my point.

You can ship maylor or not. You can track her jet or not. You can do whatever the fuck you wanna do. I don’t care. Here is what I care about, and let me be clear cuz maybe I haven’t been, and people are confused.

It is inappropriate to stalk people and wait outside of their hotels and go find them on the street (yes, yes. Maybe certain people haven’t done it. Okay. Good for them for not being stalkers. The others did. It’s gross. Also, people who didn’t do it in Paris did it somewhere else and I have pictures that they posted as evidence. They posted them. Bragging. About being creepy. They’re proud.)

Going to this many shows, insisting on barricade, starting the GA line 3 days in advance, and complaining when lines get started by anyone other than you, is inappropriate.

Shaming people who are financially inferior to you, telling people it’s their fault that their job doesn’t allow them to stalk the band across the globe, telling people that if they can’t drop everything and be there 3 days in advance to line up, then they should be in the nosebleeds, is inappropriate.

Buying tickets to the billionth show when it’s limited capacity is inappropriate.

Telling people it’s their fault they’re not lucky is inappropriate.

I don’t actually care who did what. Like my goal here isn’t to identify “bad” people and point them out to feel morally superior or whatever. My only goal is to say I hope we don’t normalize this in the fandom because it will create so many more issues if it continues. This is not normal behavior nor should it be perceived as such. It is NOT your fault that you can’t do the same. And it doesn’t make you any less of a fan. That’s all I care about. I don’t really wanna get to the bottom of whose who and expel or condemn them. That’s not my business. Nobody said I was queen of the fandom.

[shoichee]

okok hc or fic: reader was teiko’s “head” manager(?) and her talent was being a medic (if someone gets injured they’re back on the court in under a minute type thing) and training plans. suddenly momoi’s talent blooms, she starts working w/ everyone in the team (+ reader’s crush akashi) and people think she’s a better manager than reader. because of this, she overworks + collapses in front of her best friends kuroko + kise (don’t let akashi know yet i have plans for that 👀)

HELLO? YES OFFICER? I JUST FOUND A BANGER REQUEST RIGHT HERE? YOUR BRAIN IS SO BIG AND SEXY IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS🏃🏻‍♀️💨 part 2 here and part 3 here AND update: part 4 here

Akashi x Reader

[Teiko!manager Headcanons]

you had a knack of being a natural chiropractor in loosening up tense muscles instantly (for more fluid play) or easily putting in back dislocated joints

basically you have crackhands

in your free time as a hobby and a job as the “head manager” (that Akashi announced to the team himself), you’d often bury yourself in anatomy studies and gym plans on the internet and databases to review over Akashi’s team training routines to see if they were effective and safe; oftentimes, you’d return back with improved plans, and as time went on, Akashi entrusted you with creating the plans yourself completely

you took on the job so eagerly to impress the Teiko captain, if you were being honest to yourself

your enthusiasm even inspires Momoi, Teiko’s other manager, to work harder

no one in Teiko knows physiology better than you, and as expected, it was also your best subject along with health

Kise often looks at you in horror and respect at how you don’t cringe/flinch at the loud cracks resonating across the room or court when players come to you for instant relief (the origin story of how he came to call you (y/n)-cchi was the very fact that you manage to put back his dislocated shoulder in 3 seconds flat one game)

when Kuroko first joined the 1st-string, he was a walking magnet for injuries, and you ended up being there for him every single time… nosebleeds? check. sprained ankle? check. nausea from over exhaustion? check.

both you and Kuroko relish in the fact that everyone in the team can never understand how the both of you do some incredible things with your hands

both of you being quite dexterous, you both often teach each other your specialties for fun; it’s almost shocking to see Kuroko effortlessly loosening up a stress knot and you pulling off a well-done palm pass

you admit, you do juggle a lot of responsibilities… from being a makeshift nurse, to a chiropractor, to a budget gym coach, and even to being moral support

Momoi often reminds you to take breaks being the caring person that she is

you often showed her the ropes and tricks of being a manager, on top of your duties, and you find it really endearing that she’s so earnest in learning from you

even if you enjoyed doing what you do, part of the massive workload is to try to get into Akashi’s good graces

talking to him about basketball duties is easier to achieve than talking to him outside of the extracurricular

you might be a tad bit insecure about it; after all, what middle schooler is already so accomplished in academics, sports, and everything you could think of? wasn’t he also studying to take over his father’s company??

to you, who only starred as Teiko’s humble manager, it felt hard trying to establish common ground for conversation outside of basketball

so you stuck to working hard at your position, hoping that your work ethic would get his attention one day; you were a firm believer of actions over words, so you hoped your actions would come off as genuine

picture you and Momoi running across campus with stacks of papers for the team… it makes most of the teammates’ hearts melt at the sight

your work certainly got you praises from other teammates, but out of all players, Kise was the one who figured out your motive

you felt absolutely morbid; to think that Kise, of all people, would figure you out like the back of his hand

Kise being sweet as he is, offers to help you get with the captain but you merely prompted to threaten to break his arm if he spilled your crush to anyone else

“(y/n)-cchi… I’ve been thinking.”

“Yes, Kise?”

“It’s really cool that you’re working so tirelessly for the team, but I can’t help but wonder if there’s a reason why you work so hard.”

“O-Of course I do! I want to see you guys all succeed!”

“Then I’m curious as to why you always look at Akashicchi—o-ow, ow, ow!! (y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! So can you please let go of my—ow!”

“H-How did you know?!”

“I-It was as obvious as day, (y/n)-cchi! I’m pretty sure even Kurokocchi found out about this before I did!”

“N-No way!!”

“Tell you what, I’m super duper knowledgeable in this stuff! You can count on me for this sort of advice—OW!”

spoiler alert: Kise was right in that Kuroko definitely noticed your attraction to Akashi before anyone else… he just never brought it up to you

one day, Kuroko comes up to you to whisper:

“(y/n)-san, have you realized that Akashi-kun has been observing you recently during practice?”

“W-Wait! Is he looking over here right now?”

“Not that I think. He’s occupied with the coach right now.”

“D-Do you think this is a good sign?”

Kuroko gives you a small smile before he replies, “I would like to think so. Keep working hard, (y/n)-san.”

and you do, you’re constantly on top of your game for the next season until Momoi suddenly gets more recognition for her “precognitive defense” skills

her newfound talent was extraordinary and never-before-seen, and her ability became more critical to Teiko’s victories than your own skills

you were happy and proud for her, because after all, her achievements were extremely deserving to be praised

it’s only when some 1st-string players started making offhand comments about how you weren’t really needed in the 1st-string and was more suited to the lower strings that placed seeds of doubt into you

these people would often compare you to Momoi in how she improved much more despite you being in the team for longer

there’s also talk about how your skills are more useful for 2nd-string and 3rd-string players because Momoi’s ability is already sufficient enough for Teiko’s starters

after all, how would a player even be injured if they can predict their opponents’ moves to avoid such incidents?

there’s also the fact that Akashi has been calling Momoi more frequently to research on upcoming teams for analytical data because her talent has become very useful to ensuring victory

the same peers and adults who gave you praise were the same people who began to ignore you or dismiss you; that being said, the collective change in attitude is definitely subtle enough that it would fly under most people’s radars

Kuroko was the first to notice and defend you against a small group of players who were bold enough to badmouth you in the gym

Kise would find out a little later about the somewhat unpleasant gossip about you and would pull the “no you” reverse card, returning back with MEANER underhanded comments that would send these shit talkers CRYING HOME (manga Kise strikes here unexpectedly eh?)

Murasakibara is someone who would be slightly uncomfortable with the gossip about you, especially since you’ve always been so helpful and kind to the team and himself; he’d either leave the room himself or easily scare them away with his looming height and presence without saying a single word when he enters the room “minding his own business”

Midorima is a bystander judging from how he’s reacted to the Teiko dynamic changes in the actual show // he, of course, wouldn’t like the nasty talk about you but would actually mind his own business, choosing to focus on himself and what he has to do to contribute to his team; he assumes that you would work hard the same way he is and let your contributions do the talking

now Akashi surprisingly wouldn’t hear much of the gossip, since his presence alone SHUTS them up and commit to their practices like normal; after all, it’s very clear that Akashi doesn’t tolerate this type of behavior in the team (example: Haizaki), and it’s more apparent that he wouldn’t hesitate to drop kick them out especially since he has a soft spot for you (which Kise never fails to bring this up to you, but you think he’s reaching too much into it) // TLDR; the teammates mostly have the common sense to not utter anything bad about you… maybe one kid would slip out and get punished for “bad sportsmanship,” but Akashi merely assumes that it’s just one bad apple and not necessarily… the many others as well

Aomine???? bro he ain’t even at practice wdym (HELPPP LMAOO) // jokes aside, if he catches wind of players shit-talking outside of the gym… say at the convenience store or when he’s walking home or something, well… they wouldn’t have a good time…

Momoi simply chastises the gossipers when they try to talk shit on you to make Momoi herself look good, and it leaves? such? a? horrible? taste? like, she wants to believe that they’re just really poor jokes and not what they really believe in, and the teammates merely reassure her that they’re just bad jokes and that they “wouldn’t do it again;” poor Momoi wholeheartedly believes them

the weird talks about Momoi being “the better manager” just signalled to you that you haven’t contributed enough to the team yet, and it motivated you to work even harder

oddly, you weren’t jealous of the fact that Momoi was receiving more positive attention than you

you were more afraid of the fact that you were going to get left behind, and this fear only tightened its hold on you when more teammates (who used to talk to you a lot) have changed their tunes when they speak with you now, compared to them talking to Momoi

and you felt that the Generation of Miracles would do the same too… including Akashi

it wasn’t an irrational fear for you because he’s already been calling Momoi a lot more frequently for help than you recently

so you even offered to mop the gym floors after practice, offered to stay later than usual to be the one to lock up the gym for anyone (cough, Kuroko) who wanted to practice whenever they wanted

at one point, you even tried to do what Momoi does: researching on upcoming teams and making your own predictions (that didn’t really work, and that cost you a few nights’ worth of sleep every single time)

not to mention that you still had regular school like any other student? you were the epitome of a mess

Kuroko was with you in the empty gym, you putting away the extra basketballs in the storage closet while he practiced his dribbling, until he heard a crash in there and a few basketballs rolled out the door

you collapsed right when you rolled in the basketball cart

POOR KUROKO HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO // he just tries to give you a piggyback ride as he abandons his plans of practice and tries to jog to the nearest local clinic

that’s where he bumped into Kise, who was heading home after an evening shoot when he saw the two of you

chaos ensue as Kise freaks out and Kuroko had to calm him down himself after answering the never-ending questions

at least the doctor there gave relieving news that you only collapsed from over-exhaustion and that the bruises from the fall were very faint

Kise makes a joke to Kuroko about, “What’s with you and (y/n)-cchi falling to the floor and fainting? You guys can’t be that alike.”

when you shortly regain consciousness, you were met with a… very stern Kuroko and Kise, who were both ready to hear your explanation and to scold you to oblivion

to your surprise, they were understanding; Kuroko understands the feeling of not being enough and working hard to meet other people’s expectations, and Kise understands the struggle of juggling multiple things in his schedule (come on, student, athlete, and model?)

they still scolded your ears off:

“(y/n)-san, you idiot. Why didn’t you ask anyone to help out?”

“That’s…”

“(y/n)-cchi, do you think we’re undependable?!”

“Er, no, that’s…”

you were still dizzy from the fall and the lack of proper sleep (and maybe nutrition if we’re being honest), and you were just a ball of stress

you kind of begged your best friends not to tell a SOUL to anyone about this incident, especially to Akashi… you didn’t want to look even more incapable in his eyes than you already were

they do agree on one condition: for you to take AT LEAST a day or two off school to completely recover and rest up (you reluctantly agree; besides how were you going to explain the bruises that can’t be covered to your peers?)

HELP WHY ARE KISE AND KUROKO THE BEST LIARS TOGETHER ON CAMPUS LITERALLY NO ONE SUSPECTS A THING… except Akashi, the ever sharp captain, felt something was amiss

especially since some Teiko players emanated a feeling of relief at the news of you not being here that day, or the next

Akashi would play detective sleuth and find out what’s really going on sooner or later

End Note: gonna cut this off here b/c I KNOW this anon got a juicy part two i FEEL IT

[littlemisskookie]

Piss Off Your Parents

Piss Off Your Parents Ship: BadBoy!Jungkook | RichGirl!Reader Description: Roommates!AU | BadBoy!AU | FakeDating!AU | In an effort to piss off your parents you move in with their worst nightmare- a boy with tattoos, a rock band, and an irresistible charm. Warnings: Dom!JK, Daddy Kink, D/S Themes, Spanking, Pussy Spanking, Intercourse, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Fingering, Oral, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Size Kink, Hair Pulling, Praise Kink, Lots of Pet Names, Angst, Fluff, Drug Use (it’s just weed) Word Count: 16,411 A/N: Based on the song 18 by Anarbor! This ends my hiatus! I’ve been writing this for literal months so I hope you guys like it. Happy Early 3rd Year Anniversary!

"Oh, you must visit us in Morocco! We got a summer home there not too long ago, and it's absolutely divine!"

"You don't say? We were thinking about visiting there! It was between there and Budapest."

"I went to Budapest not too long ago, actually. Remember when I was telling you about Belgium?"

"Belgium? I remember Prague..."

"Oh yes! Prague, that's it. Well, it was the trip after-"

You rolled your eyes, internally groaning as you listened to your mother speak with the Senator's wife. You hated going to these. The senator loved to host "intimate" parties, which mainly compromised of the 1%. Everyone knew it was because the next election was coming up, and he wanted to raise funding. As if he needed it, you mused to yourself, admiring the interior of the mansion. Spilling wine on a nearby couch would cost as much as some student loans.

Still, you were the daughter of a wealthy family, trust fund baby among other things. Your college was paid for, not including the bribing, and you were the darling among many. Daddy's little jewel, and one of the few brats who wasn't forced under the scapel at 16.

You couldn't stand the boys in that circle. They were all the same, figuring that a man of their "status" should have a trophy equally worthy. Or perhaps they wanted an arranged marriage, no bullshit, simply in hopes of linking the family businesses together and gaining your father's support. Often times they were just men who had never heard the word "no", and didn't like hearing it, wealth be damned.

You feel sick to your stomach, seeing one of your "suitors" eyeing you when he enters. He's different from the others, no suit adorning his figure. Instead of a suit and tie, he wears all black, leather jacket and combat boots. The graphic tee is tucked into his ripped jeans, accentuating his tiny waist. You peak at the tattoos on his hands, and the jewelry he wears. Lots of rings, some earrings, and a chain necklace, with a matching one on his pants. He had long hair that hung around his ears, making it where he had to flip his hair to see what was in front of him.

You felt as though the world had stopped, holding your breath as you simply stare at him. He gives you a charming smile, surprisingly cute dimples showing up on either cheek. It felt as though the breath had been knocked out of your lungs, and your stomach was doing flips.

"Oh, that boy! I told him to dress for the occasion," the Senator's wife scowled. She smiles towards you and your mother. "If you'll excuse me."

As soon as she scurries away, you turn to your mother, eyes wide with wonder. "Who's that?"

Your mother gives a judgemental stare to the boy as he's approached. "The Senator's son- Jungkook. You grew up with him when you were about toddlers."

"The Jeons created that?" You couldn't believe it. Those two had sticks shoved so far up their asses you were sure you could see the end whenever they opened their mouths. You would've remembered growing up with a specimen like that. "How come I haven't seen him until now?"

"His parents sent him off to boarding school in Switzerland, hoping it would whip him into shape. It didn't. After he got his degree in college he decided to make some rock band. Apparently he's back in town to work with this new record label- or was it to own his own guitar shop?"

"So he's some baddie rock star?"

"Dear, I told you to speak properly. Like a lady." Your mother sighs. "But in other words, yes. Figures the Senator would make the living embodiment of teenage rebellion- though I'm surprised it's lasted this long."

"I'll say." You hadn't been able to do anything of the sort. Your parents were strict to whip you into the shape, not allowing any form of rebellion, though you have your tiny ways. You learned to appreciate the little things. So when you looked at the Senator's son, in all his indie-rock glory, you couldn't help but admire him.

"I'll see you in a bit, Mother. I do believe I have to acquaint myself," you say, sliding away with ease.

"Y/N!"

You're long gone, though, the lecture Jungkook was surely hearing now over as his mother stomps away, shaking her head. You combed your fingers through your hair, hoping you looked good. You wore a tight red dress, though it wasn't too revealing, as well as a matching set of diamond earrings. Don't even mention the carats on your necklace.

"Hey," you say, giving the coy smile you had mastered so long ago. "Jungkook, right?"

"That's me," he says, taking your hand to bring it up to his lips, winking at you. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Meeting?" You feign slight offense. "Don't you remember me? Y/N. We grew up together as toddlers." Before he has time to take it seriously, you let your expressions melt back into a smile. "Though I wouldn't worry too much about it- it was long ago."

"I don't think I'll be forgetting you again any time soon," he says, a smirk on his lips.

You giggle at that. "So what brings you here? Doesn't seem to be your kind of scene."

He shrugged. "My dad's the senator, as I'm sure you already know. He figured I'd be able to bring in a few dollars with promoting to our 'friends', along with getting me on the 'right track'. AKA his track. Y'know, politics and that sort of stuff."

"I get that," you nod. "My parents have been pushing me most of tonight to find myself some new boyfriend here."

"And why haven't you? I'd figure a gorgeous girl such as yourself would have no problem."

"The problem isn't with me, mind you," you say, sighing. "Let's just say that most of these guys aren't exactly my-" You nod to the suitor who had been eyeing you the entire time, though he now glares at Jungkook. "-type."

"They aren't my type either," Jungkook jokes, waving in acknowledgment to the man. He leans in close to whisper in your ear, and you can't help but feel your knees go weak at his scent. Was that cologne or did he naturally smell good? "What exactly is your type then, hm?"

"I'm talking to him."

He smiles at that. "Good move, princess."

"Who do you think you're calling princess?"

"Oh? What would you like to be called, then?"

"Wouldn't you like to know? You already have too much power over me. That would just be my one-way ticket to doom." You let your fingers twirl around a lock of his hair, admiring how soft it was. "My name will do for now."

"Fair enough," he chuckles. "Do you want to get some fresh air on the balcony? It's just that wonderbread over there seems like he wants to pick a fight, and I'd rather not get blood on that white shirt of his."

"Is that why you're wearing black? So the blood won't show up?"

"You're wearing red- it'll do just as well."

"Touché. No fighting tonight, though. Wonderbread can't even handle a nosebleed."

"Lead the way then, Y/N."

You're happy to do so but already find yourself cringing as Wonderbread catches up with you before you can leave. "Hey! Y/N! Where are you going off to? The party's just started"

"Jungkook and I are just going to get some fresh air," you assure him, trying to smother the rising feelings of annoyance as well as the urge to groan.

"Jungkook, huh?" Wonderbread looks him up and down, eyes squinted, glaring at his appearance. "The senator's son?"

"That's me," Jungkook says in response.

"You don't look like the type," Wonderbread mutters.

"You mean boring?" Jungkook snorts, giving his own dirty glance up and down Wonderbread's form.

"What are you insinuating?" Wonderbread's face was already getting red. It was always so easy to offend these sorts of guys. They could dish it, but not take it.

"I mean black is slimming. You should dress in a way that flatters you, y'know?" Jungkook plasters on a fake smile that could rival your own. He reaches for Wonderbread's tie, toying with it between his fingers for a few moments. "But judging from your choice of baby blue, I don't think you do."

"Why I oughta-"

"I think now's a good time to get that fresh air!" you say, pushing Jungkook off in the direction of the balcony. "Right, Jungkook?"

He simply shrugs, taking the hint before stalking off in that direction. You're about to follow him when Wonderbread yanks on your arm, a scowl on his face. "I thought you had better taste, Y/N. That you were smart."

"Let go of me, please."

His grip tightens. "Didn't your parents tell you to stay away from guys like that? He'll just get you into trouble- they always do. What with their piercings and tattoos and drugs- stay away from that. He had a choice and could've been like that, but it's clear he wants to be a rebel and get himself in jail."

"I said let go of me." You try to pull your arm back, but he stays firm.

"Why don't you just listen to me and stop for a second. Guys like that will just hurt you. They hurt everyone around them, including themselves. They're scum-"

"I said-"

"Don't be an idiot and stick with your own kind."

"If you don't let go of me right now, I'll scream. I don't care," you grit.

Wonderbread scowls again, muttering to himself as he finally lets go of you. You rub your sore arm, glaring at him. He simply scoffs. "You'll be the laughing stock when you go crying back to your parents."

"Have you ever considered I don't want to be like you people? Like us? Look around, Wonderbread. None of us are happy. You clearly aren't because you can't get laid, at least not by 'your own kind'. I haven't done anything with Jungkook, I just met him tonight and we're getting air, and even if I did, it'd be none of your business. So stop staring at my rack like you have been for the past hour and get a life."

You turn on your heel, marching over to the balcony, leaving Wonderbread far behind you. Jungkook's waiting for you, leaning on the railing.

"Are you ok? I saw some of that back there. I wanted to help, but I didn't want to go all 'Alpha Douchebag' like other guys. Besides you seemed to be able to handle yourself at the end."

You huff, brushing your hands through your hair. "I'm able to defend myself once in a while. I'm not some damsel in distress."

"Never said you were, princess. And trust me when I say I'm no white knight."

"That's why I'm here with you instead of Wonderbread."

"No one with a personality spicier than flour would want to stick around with Wonderbread," he responds.

"You've got a point," you huff. "Guys like him are hard to shake off."

"It's not hard to see why. You're gorgeous and rich, double whammy," Jungkook winks.

You groan. "God, not you too. Besides, you're one to talk. You waltz in here, dressing like sin, son of the senator no less, and you don't expect girls to fawn over you?"

"Who said I didn't expect it?"

"Plus, it's different for guys and girls. In this sort of society guys just want a trophy wife. The girls want a trophy too, though. The hottest guy, the richest guy- a provider," you state. "The gender roles of the high class still stay in the 50s, I'm afraid."

"So you followed me out here because you see me as a provider, huh?"

"Did you invite me out because you saw me as a trophy?"

"No." He shakes his head, his locks bouncing as he did so. It was strangely attractive.

"Well if I just wanted a provider I'd stick with Wonderbread. He'd be more than willing to 'provide' for me."

"The only thing softies like that can't provide is an orgasm," he bluntly says.

You burst out laughing at that. "Oh my god, don't-"

"I'm just saying," he chuckles. "Besides, it's not all that bad. So you're hot and rich- boohoo. First world problems, am I right?"

"I know, I know, I'm privileged but- God, it's annoying."

"It's just a few guys who want to marry you- what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal?" You hold out your hand, tallying off the reasons. "My parents are pressuring me to marry young, wanting to trust their wealth to a man they don't even know rather than the daughter they raised. I'm constantly sexually harassed, and most of the time when I reject the guy he either doesn't take the hint or just says I was fat or ugly to ease his bruising ego. Everything I do is perceived as a ploy to get a man, and the other chicks go as far as to slut-shame me or say I think I'm better than everyone else because I'm some SJW who doesn't want to get boob surgery to please a man, despite the fact he'll probably be sleeping with an 18-year-old when we're 50 and hating ourselves."

"If it helps, I think your tits are great as they are."

"Did you listen to anything I said?"

"Of course I did, baby. But you have to keep in mind when a guy hears the words 'boob surgery' he tends to tune in more," he jokes. "But yes, I get your struggles. I grew up in the same environment, for the most part."

"Why aren't you out here trying to win a trophy, anyway?"

"Didn't you hear? I was sent off to boarding school. It's good to see an outside world that doesn't cater to your every need," he shrugs. "You know, a world where women are more than trophies and guys are more than the thickness of their wallets."

"Instead the thickness of their cocks?"

He winks. "Now you're thinking like me."

"So you got outside perspective and chose to follow that instead of a life that would've provided you with everything?"

"What can I say? I've got passion for things outside of elections and sexism."

"Let me guess- you're in a rock band, ride a motorcycle, and play guitar," you roll your eyes. "Color me impressed."

There's a moment of silence, and you turn to him, finding him bashfully stunned. "No shit! You're actually all of those things?"

"I'll have you know I own a guitar shop along with the band. Have to pay the bills somehow."

"Oh my god- you're like every teen girl's wet dream! The living embodiment of a Harry Styles fanfiction but without the toxicity!" You guffaw. "I can't believe this. I should've known. Leather jackets, long hair, tattoos- fuck!"

"Yeah yeah, you've made your point, princess."

"I mean, I thought I was a bit of a parent's worse nightmare when it came to youthful rebellion but you're the icing on the cake," you continue. "Fuck, you'd piss my parents off."

"Getting turned on by the thought of it, little girl?" he teases, trying to get you to back down, quirking a brow at your amusement.

"You know it," you flirt back, tugging at his belt, fueled further. "I love nothing more than showing them I'm more grown-up than they realize."

"Oh?" He starts to take you seriously, gulping. "I would've figured a Daddy's girl like you would've loved pleasing her parents."

"I guess you could say I'm a different kind of Daddy's girl," you wink. You laugh at his serious expression, knowing your little joke was in full effect. "Calm down, Jeon. I'm not going to fuck you on the balcony- despite how my type you are."

"I'm your type?"

"Haven't I made it obvious?" you snicker. "I told you I loved nothing more than to piss my parents off- and you're the embodiment of that. I could see my dad's face going red already! I mean, motorcycles, rock band, tattoos, leather, guitars- already my type, but it's the cherry on top."

"You're weird about that, huh? I knew some girls were into this whole look, but I wouldn't have figured it was for the same reason as you."

"All girls who are attracted to guys like you are attracted for the same reasons," you muse. "Daddy issues."

"Makes sense," he hums. "But I'm not all that dreamy, princess."

"Oh? Explain."

"I drink."

"Vodka I hope."

"I also smoke. Weed."

"Better than vaping like the 'cool kids'."

"I'm broke."

That's the one that takes you by surprise. "How's that? You're the senator's son."

He shrugs. "My parents cut me off after I came back from boarding school and told them I wanted to join a rock band and make a guitar shop. They hate my look as much as your parents would- though they brought me here in hopes that those my age could rub off on me in time for the election. I make enough to live in my apartment and provide for myself, but I don't think I'd be able to be the same kind of 'provider' as Wonderbread over there."

"Well, what do you think I'd use Daddy's card for?" you say. "It has been gathering dust..."

"God, you're serious about this," he laughs. "I'm on a fast track of getting a rich girlfriend and I didn't even have to lift a finger. I'll have to start calling off my other girls soon enough."

"Not quite," you say, pressing your finger against his lips. "There's one thing that'll prevent me from dating a guy like you- no matter how appealing you may seem."

His brows furrow in a state of confusion. "And what's that, princess?"

"There's one thing that's very consistent about men like you- what, with your 'bad boy with a heart of gold' persona," you say, tilting his chin up a bit. "Heart breakers. All of you. In all of the stories, fiction or reality, it ends the same. A broken heart one way or another, even temporarily. I'm guessing with you it'd be those other girls you mentioned. If not that, arguments because of how different we are. Or perhaps it'd be my parents saying enough's enough and taking me away or something- I don't know. It's the only thing that my parents and Wonderbread get right, though."

"So what does that boil down to?"

"It boils down to the fact that I wouldn't fall for someone like you."

"Charming?"

"Sleazy."

"Handsome?"

"Generic."

"Dangerous?"

"Extremely."

Jungkook chuckles at that. "I don't think you'd be able to choose whether or not you fall for someone, princess. I've been told I'm quite irresistible."

"I'm sure you are- but I made my choice the moment you stepped through those double doors," you smile, tapping his nose. "I'm not going to be another broken heart. That I guarantee."

"Oh, you read too much fanfiction. What Harry Styles fanfiction gave you this mindset? The Bad Boy's Rich Girl?" He laughs. "I see it now. I assure you, baby, I'm a lover, not a fighter."

"I can handle fighting. I was raised in it. A lover like you isn't what I need."

"Are you sure? I'm confident in my loving abilities."

"Ha," you flatly say. "Sure you are. Choke me, baby."

"Give me the safe word first, baby."

You roll your eyes. "You're no good for me."

"Poison."

"You'd break my heart."

"Like so many others'."

"You'll call me?"

"At 2 AM."

"God, you're sleazy."

"You love it, baby."

"Shut up and put your number in my phone so I can wait two days to text back."

-

You and Jungkook had been texting non-stop since the senator's party. Surprisingly enough, between the banter and flirting, he was a very genuine person. He was caring and sent the same memes, though you were considering unfollowing meme accounts so that you'd be pleasantly surprised. Damn him for having the same sense of humor as you.

You were in the middle of spamming the skull emoji when your mother called for you. You rolled your eyes, huffing as you put down your phone, checking your appearance once more in the mirror. Your parents told you to get dolled up for the evening, and you could only hope they were taking you to see the musical that was in town.

Once you glided down the stairs, however, you were supremely disappointed.

"Y/N," your mother beamed, "this is Jin. He's a doctor, and he's involved in-"

"Non-invasive surgery," Jin interrupted, already pissing you off. "Pleasure to meet you- your parents told me all about you."

"Pleasure's all mine," you say through gritted teeth, already absolutely pissed. You turn towards your mother. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, sweetheart." You see her internally roll her eyes as she escorts you to the kitchen, where you immediately turn on your heel.

"This is the fifth boy you've brought home for me to date! How many more do you need to bring for you to realize I'm not interested in them?"

"Sweetheart, you have to understand-"

"Understand what? No means no. I don't like any of them. The fact you won't stop pressuring me into dating strangers isn't helping, either."

"We just want to see you settled down with a proper gentleman-"

"Settled down!? I'm in my young 20s! I'm nowhere near menopause, for your information. I've got my whole life ahead of me before I even have to think about marriage."

"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady," she fumes. "What, would you rather we bring... bring a Jeon Jungkook?!"

"Is that what this is about?"

"We know you've become affiliated with him, yes. We're trying to get you on the right path."

"To hell with that noise!" you burst. "Jungkook is no less- no, more of a man than those dweebs that walk in! You want to know why? Because he's honest! I know these guys better than you. They might act all nice and charming to you guys, but that's just because they're after your money. You can't seem to see that, however, because it's not your tits they're staring at! It's not you who's the trophy. It's not you who is sexually harassed and seen as a prize to be won!"

"Young lady, I won't stand for such behavior!"

"I'm a grown adult, and I'll date bastards like Jeon Jungkook if I so please," you huff, turning away. "Tell Jin it was so nice to meet him, but unfortunately another 'proper gentleman' is keeping me occupied."

You stomp away before she can grab you and force you on your date, and by the time you're in a secluded area, you burst into tears. You simply wish your parents could see you as an adult who is capable of making her own decisions. That you're allowed to live your life and you're different from them and that's ok. They couldn't seem to get it through their thick heads, however.

You were sick of it. Absolutely sick of it. Over 20 years of this bullshit, and now it was worse, what with them pressuring you to jump into marriage with someone 'respectable'.

There had to be some way to get back at them. To get it through to them. To get back at them for their bullshit or get them to see you're not some naive 16-year-old or something.

With a shaky hand, you pick up your phone, dialing the number to call your friend.

"Jungkook? Yeah... yeah, I've been crying. Can you, uh, do you think you could do me a massive favor?"

-

Jungkook had to admit, it came as a surprise when you asked to move in with him.

It really didn't register with him, however, until you pulled up in front of his building in your luxury convertible, boxes filling up every inch of space.

He had no problem with you becoming his roommate- after all, you promised you wouldn't bother interfering with his bachelor lifestyle. In fact, he was quite amused.

Fake dating. Your deep-rooted frustration for your parents was quite apparent, but he didn't think it'd go this far. You'd live with him for a while under the guise of boyfriend/girlfriend, at least to your parents. He didn't quite understand the revenge scheme or how it worked, but he understood enough. Between your choked up sobs, you had explained the plethora of men your parents have brought to your house under the guise of a date when in reality they were trying to pressure her into marriage.

Even if that hadn't been happening, Jungkook would've let you come in. You two were friends. You had insisted that you would pay your half of the rent and wouldn't become his actual girlfriend, and admittedly, Jungkook liked the thought of a roommate.

"What happens if your parents cut you off?" Jungkook had questioned you, knowing how rough it had been for him when it happened.

"Unbeknownst to my parents, I have a job," you explained.

"What? You said you just used your father's credit card when we first met!"

"I barely knew you! Now that I know you're not some creep I can tell you. If you must know, I'm the assistant to some chief executive for a fashion company."

"The Devil Wears Chanel?"

"It's The Devil Wears Prada, but close enough."

Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit worried for you, especially now that he saw you again. You lifted your designer sunglasses to reveal tired, worn eyes, a look only achieved through crying. He greeted you with a smile, however, hugging you once you stepped out of your car.

"How you holding up, princess?" he questioned, giving you a warm embrace.

"God, better now, thank you." You melted into his hug. "Thank you for doing this. It means a lot."

"Hey, I promised to piss off your parents, didn't I? I'm a man of my word," he chuckled. He stepped back, combing over your hair affectionately. "Now, here's the deal, oh precious fake girlfriend of mine. As roommates, we've got a few rules. Rule number one: No fucking after 3 AM. Despite my many escapades, I have a bedtime. Rule number two: when one person cooks, the other washes the dishes. Simple. Rule number three: Be honest. We're living together, so we've got to be honest. Lying, secrets- none of that. You've got something on your mind, you say it. We'll yell at each other for a few minutes and settle it. Sound good?"

You nod. "Sounds like a plan."

"Alright. And the fake dating rules, baby?"

"Nothing much. Drive with me once or twice to visit my parents, to show we're 'serious'. We can go into details about our story if need be. Keep up the act around rich brats."

"Sounds good," he chuckles. "Already turning into a Wattpad fanfiction, isn't it?"

You smile weakly, a light giggle escaping your lips. "Oh god, it really is, isn't it?"

"Hey, there's a reason they're popular. We've just got to do it better." He looks back towards your car filled with boxes. "Here, let me help you with your things, Your Highness."

"Why thank you, my humble servant," you say, getting a box yourself. "I sure do love a big strong man!"

"If only I weren't a peasant boy who worked at the stables."

"Indeed. You're filthy- I shouldn't even let you touch my valuables," you snicker, "but I suppose you'll have to do."

"You're right about the filthy part," Jungkook winks.

-

Being roommates with Jungkook wasn't what you expected.

Your work was getting more hectic, so you were arriving later than usual. It absolutely exhausted you, and you'd be stumbling in, kicking your heels off at the front door only to collapse into Jungkook's arms, who would wait for you. Every. Single. Night.

You had told him that he didn't have to wait for you. His work ended at 6, and even the nights when he'd play with his band wouldn't go too late, as they play until midnight for their usual gigs.

Still, he had insisted. Something about not wanting you to feel alone. You'd never tell him how much you appreciated it. Instead of the vast, empty mansion, you lived in, where the only thing that would embrace you was dust, you lived in a small, messy apartment and collapsed into a pair of warm arms.

On the few days you were off you were able to properly spend time with your roommate. Every other Friday would be movie night, where one of you would pick the movie for the two of you to watch, all because you believed the other was "tasteless". Nevertheless, it was time you truly enjoyed, and you were genuinely disappointed whenever you had to miss it because of your job.

Living with him was domestic in a good way. It was a friendly face to come home to every day, a warm hug to embrace you whenever you kicked off your heels. It was burnt bacon on some mornings and lazy Sunday clothing to borrow whenever you felt like it.

Sure, it wasn't always the greatest. Often times you guys would bicker over some basic chores and neatness. Jungkook left his clothes everywhere in the living room, and you'd leave all your heels in a heap in front of the door. However, you thought it'd be worse.

You were suspecting people over every other night, all as tatted and pierced as he was. Weekly bong parties where they'd try to hotbox the apartment, maybe. Women draping themselves over him every other morning, wanting to stay for the day, glaring at you because they saw you as a threat.

There was some of that, but not really. Jungkook, when it came down to it, was just another ordinary guy. Human. He'd have some of his bandmates and friends come over once in a while, and they were just as handsome and tatted as he was. They were polite and friendly, though, and didn't even leave much of a mess behind. Jungkook would get weed for the two of you to smoke once in a while. As for the women? Well, there was only one woman you had encountered.

It was a Friday night and you were able to come home at the usual hour, kicking your heels off and letting out the high ponytail you had in your hair. You massaged your scalp, making eye contact with Jungkook from his position on the couch. You strut over, plopping yourself down by his side and positioning yourself where you can lay your head in his lap.

"How was your day at work, princess?"

"Exhausting," you groaned. You'd never admit it to Jungkook, but you had warmed up to the nickname as of late. It made you feel warm inside. Special. You weren't a princess. You were his princess.

His fingers start running through your hair, giving you a gentle massage as he hums in understanding. "Want to talk about it?"

"Just the same old shit, honestly. You'd figure I'd be used to it by now."

"You'd figure," he chuckles. "Well, I'm glad you're working hard. It might be difficult, and the boss may be a bitch, and the pay lower than it should be..."

"But?"

He smiles. "But... if it makes you happy, then I'll support you."

"God, I think you're halfway to fixing my daddy issues already," you grin. You look up at him, noticing his long hair was styled, and a leather jacket adorning him. Typically when he was in the apartment he'd simply lounge around with uncombed curls and glasses, one of his baggy white shirts revealing the tatted sleeves you loved. "Hey, what're you all dressed up for?"

"Oh? This? I've got a date tonight," he shrugs, eyes back up on the TV.

"Oh," was all you could manage to say. He had said it so bluntly like it wasn't a big deal. Well, it wasn't. He was your roommate. Why should you care whether or not he's got a date? It's not like you had feelings for him or anything. That would be ridiculous. It would only complicate things.

Jungkook was your friend. He let you move in with him and comforted you in your time of need. Sure, you guys flirted a lot, and there was a lot of physical affection, from combing through each other's hair, cuddling on the couch during movie night, or tight hugs on especially rough days. But none of those meant that he liked you. Maybe you just kept thinking back to the air of mutual attraction, the first night you met. Maybe you had lulled yourself in a false sense of comfort, thinking of him as a boyfriend.

But he wasn't. You guys didn't kiss. You guys didn't have sex. You guys didn't even say anything about liking one another. For all you knew, he saw you as a sister at this point. The two of you knew each other like the back of your hand at this point.

Besides, the worst thing you could do was fall for your roommate.

Not an option.

Still, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that made you squirm in discomfort. You felt... unsettled, by the thought of Jungkook with another girl.

Was she pretty? Was she like you? Or was she more like him? Was she covered in tattoos and a cute septum piercing to go along with it? Did she have brightly colored hair and like punk rock? Yeah, you could picture Jungkook with a girl like that. They'd make an aesthetically pleasing couple.

"So, tell me about her," you say, realizing the two of you had been silent since you got lost in thought.

He shrugged again. "Not much to say. She's nice. She's been visiting my shop a lot recently. She's got some old guitar that she refuses to let go of, so she visits me for repairs. She visits so often I started to think she was breaking it on purpose. Eventually, she asked for my number and... well, now I've got a date."

"Cool," you nod. "What time do you have to leave?"

"I'll probably leave to pick her up in about 15 minutes," Jungkook says, looking down at his phone. "Actually... I think I have to leave now. I lost track of time."

You raise your head to let him up, and he checks himself once more in the reflection of the microwave in the kitchen. You chuckle, walking up to him and straightening out his clothes, fixing his hair a bit.

"There we go, now you look... maybe presentable," you smile.

He laughs a bit at that, ruffling your hair. "I promise we can have movie night tomorrow. If not, you can pick. We can even watch that god awful Fifty Shades movie you've been bugging me to watch."

"It's for the irony! We'll be watching it to make fun of it!" you exclaim, part of your usual banter about the series.

"Uh-huh. Just don't get horny based on that garbage, or I'll have half the mind to kick you out," he jokes. He grabs the key to his motorcycle and grabs the extra hot pink helmet- the one the two of you had picked out together once you started riding with him. "Don't bother staying up for me, ok? You need your beauty sleep."

"Is that your way of saying I'm ugly?" you say, quirking a brow in a comical manner.

"Absolutely hideous," he grins, kissing the top of your forehead. "Sweet dreams, princess."

He shut the door behind him, and you felt your heart sink in your chest.

Maybe you did feel something for Jungkook.

-

She wasn't exactly what you were expecting.

To be fair though, there was no way for you to expect waking up to a nude woman in your kitchen.

Typically you would've ignored Jungkook's suggestion for you to go to sleep, instead opting to head to bed once he left. You had been completely wiped from the workday, and could barely keep your eyes open. Maybe your body simply had pity on you, choosing to put you in REM sleep before you had to hear the two of them having sex.

Maybe you thought Jungkook was the type to do it at the girl's place. Maybe you thought he was the type to kick the girl out as soon as the deed was done. However, he was neither.

You had woken up to go to the kitchen, prepared to make your morning cereal when you heard the sizzling of bacon on a pan. Ah, Jungkook must be making breakfast. No doubt he's burned it again by now- something about not liking the bacon to be too fatty. The two of you really knew it was because he couldn't cook anything other than ramen.

"Jungkook, are you- oh shit!"

Instead of your edgy roommate, you were greeted by a woman wearing nothing but an apron. Literally nothing. She had been turned away from you, and you had gotten a full view of her ass and sideboob through the apron.

Out of instinct, you cover your eyes, hearing her shriek.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know someone else lived here. You're not his girlfriend, are you? He told me he was single!"

"What? No, no! I'm his roommate, Y/N," you say, slowly peaking through your fingers. She was facing you now, and though she couldn't change at that moment, the apron covered up everything. You let out a sigh, lowering your hands.

"Oh, well nice to meet you, Y/N!" She smiled brightly, offering an awkward hand. "I didn't know Jungkook had a female roommate."

You shake her hand, quirking a brow. "You didn't see all the shoes by the door?"

"I was a bit... preoccupied, so to say," she chuckled awkwardly. "I'm Solji."

"Nice to meet you, um, Solji," you say. "You're Jungkook's date from last night, right?"

"Yeah." Solji tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, and at that moment you completely get it. She's pretty in that natural kind of way. The kind of pretty that looks gorgeous without makeup, but would probably look good either way. Anything she did could be done with grace.

Jungkook walks into the kitchen in only a t-shirt and briefs. "What was that scream about- oh."

"Hi, Jungkook." Solji's voice is breathy, as though even seeing Jungkook again made her dizzy. You knew that feeling all too well. "I-I'm sorry. You were asleep and I couldn't bear to wake you up, but I thought it'd be rude to leave, so I thought I'd make breakfast! And then your roommate..."

"Y/N," you help, noticing she had forgotten your name already.

"Y/N! Right, sorry." She smiles apologetically. "And then Y/N walked in..."

"We're good now though, I think we were both just startled," you say. You look between the two awkwardly, an air of silence hanging over the three of you. "I, um, need to... pee."

You exit the situation as quickly as you could, holing yourself up in your room for the majority of the day. It isn't until later that day, when you lounge in the kitchen, stuffing your face with pop tarts after doing your best to avoid social interaction that you see Jungkook.

"Hey, Kook," you say, wiping the crumbs off your face. You probably looked like a mess right now, from lounging in your sweats. You couldn't care less, though. You were starving, and Jungkook had seen you worse. "Where's Solji?"

"Hm? Oh, she left."

"She left? But she seemed so happy to be here."

"Well, then I guess a more blunt way to put it is that I kicked her out," Jungkook shrugged.

You're stunned by his clarification.

As though sensing your shock or judgment, Jungkook quickly changes the topic. "So, movie night tonight? Since we missed it last night? I can make the ramen."

"I... yeah. Let's do it."

He grinned. "Great! I'll get alcohol too, and we can take a shot every time they say some cringy dirty talk."

You rolled your eyes, unable to hold back the smile that tugged at your lips. "You really want to destroy my liver, don't you?"

The two of you didn't speak of Solji again.

-

You still hug on tightly to Jungkook's waist as he rolls up to your parents' mansion, clinging even after his motorcycle comes to a complete halt.

"You know, I'm pretty sure your waist is smaller than mine," you note, finally loosening your grip. You had seen Jungkook shirtless plenty of times- the man child had a tendency to prance around the apartment half-naked. Still, his abs were rock hard- and you felt so squishy in comparison.

"That's just because I work out, baby," he chuckles, taking off his helmet and giving his locks a dramatic swoosh of freedom. He grins boyishly at you, helping you take your helmet off as well. "It wouldn't kill you to get out of the apartment for something other than work, you know."

"Excuse you! I work out plenty in the confines of my room," you fume.

"Sure- like those little girl weights do anything," he jokes.

"Well, I oughta-"

"Miss Y/N."

The two of you look up at the front door, the butler looking at you with that usual scornful expression of his. He glowers at you and your fake boyfriend, giving a sneer. You'd figure after all these years the man would show a little warmth towards you- but then you remembered it was your parents who were paying him, not you.

"I do believe your parents are expecting you and your... boyfriend, miss," he says, eyes scanning over Jungkook with clear disdain.

Jungkook only grins in response, putting the helmets up and helping you hop off, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "Lead the way, chump."

The butler scoffs at that, turning on his heel to follow Jungkook's orders as the younger man giggles. One of Jungkook's favorite hobbies, as it turns out, was pissing off rich people. Must be the socialist in him.

"Chump?" you question, raising a brow. "What century are you from?"

"Oh, don't say that. Besides, I highly doubt I would've been let in if I had called him a cuck."

"I'm surprised we even got this far."

Jungkook, determined to help you piss off your parents, had decided to wear a plain black t-shirt that revealed as many tattoos as possible, as well as chains and hoop earrings. His jeans were ripped, his sneakers were scuffed, and he was the most handsome man to walk the earth.

Your parents had insisted that you finally visit them. You had never been away from home for this long, and they had suspected you'd be on your knees groveling by the first week. Still, you held your own and seemed to be doing well for yourself. So naturally, they had to see the boy who agreed to take you in, who they were sure would break your heart by this point. Perhaps they'd beg for you back while they were at it.

They didn't do that, however, instead greeting you with a hug.

"Darling," your mother says, giving you that familiar tight embrace that left you unable to breathe. "We've missed you."

"Missed you too," you grunt. "How have you two been?"

"Fine, fine, the usual," she says. Her eyes glance over the two of you, and Jungkook quickly locks his hand with yours, fingers interlocked as he gives a tight squeeze of support. "And... you two?"

"Thriving," Jungkook interjects. "She really takes care of me. I don't know how I got along without her."

"I don't do much- he's the one who usually stays up to make sure I'm home safe, as well as help me with the dishes... Or at least tries." The two of you exchange a small smile at that.

"I see..." Your mother's mouth goes small, and at that moment you have a hard time reading her. Or maybe she was having a hard time reading you. Maybe she could sense something was off. That the two of you weren't real.

Your heart started racing in your chest, and you silently prayed to yourself that she wouldn't be able to see through your ruse.

Before you could overthink further, however, she smiled. "Lunch, then?"

Your father claps his hands in delight. "Dear, you'll be glad to know we have your favorite! We had the cooks make it especially for you."

The four of you walk to the dining room to eat, and Jungkook leans in. "Wait, what's your favorite?"

"It's literally just spaghetti."

-

Surprisingly, lunch went better than expected. Your parents asked you and Jungkook exactly how you two came to be, and you had your story under lock. Most of it was the truth- you had reunited at the Senator's party and gotten to know each other through becoming friends. Eventually, the two of you began to form feelings, dating a bit before you decided to leave your parents and move in with him. You explained a lot about the living arrangements between you two, aside from the fact you two were just roommates. You'd explain small things like movie night and how you'd leave your shoes by the door, or how he'd burn anything that wasn't ramen and how he'd wait for you to get home every night without fail.

Before you knew it the lunch was over and you had to leave. Jungkook was getting the motorcycle started, making sure everything was in order while you hung back to speak to your parents at the front door.

"So..." You trailed off, unable to start.

"So?" Your mother looked at you quizzically. "Dear, remember what I told you about finishing everything you start. That includes sentences."

You take a deep breath. "So you're not going to insist I move out of Jungkook's apartment?"

Your parents exchanged looks before turning back to you.

"That was our original plan, however," your father sighs, "it appears that this isn't a situation we can put in our own hands. We'll let you two stay together."

You furrow your brows, confused. "Wait, what? You're letting me stay with him?"

"Of course, darling. We know you may think of us as evil capitalists, or whatever the liberals try to convince you of-"

"Father."

"-but we aren't evil enough to stand in the way of love."

"...Love?"

"Yes, love," your mother sighs. "We were prepared to demand you move out the moment you got to the door, but you look at that boy the same way I look at your father, and the way he looks at me. I suppose you reminded me of how we were in the old days."

"Besides, you do seem very comfortable with the boy. More sure of yourself. Perhaps it is beneficial for you to be living away from your parents- after all, we won't be here forever," your father says.

"Don't say that," you say, frowning.

"It's true, dear. Not that we want it to happen any time soon, or to be morbid, but we're simply glad there's going to be someone to take care of you after we're gone." Your mother looks back to Jungkook, who is now looking at the three of you with curiosity. "He might not be the most dignified boy, despite the fact that he comes from such a prestigious family. However, he loves you, I can say that much. I don't think he'll break your heart any time soon."

"If he does though, I'll kill him," your father threatens.

"You won't be killing anyone," you assure him. "Jungkook treats me well."

"That's all we ask." Your mother gives you a kiss on the forehead. "Love like that can't be faked, my dear. Who are we to step in the way?"

You give the two of them a tight hug, tears springing in the corners of your eyes. You wipe them away quickly before looking back at Jungkook, who was still waiting for you patiently. "Well... I should get going."

"Remember we love you."

"Love you, too."

-

You put down the hot pink helmet, silent. You and Jungkook had just arrived back at the apartment, and neither of you had said a word about your parents.

"So..." Jungkook trails off. "What'd your parents say? Right before we left? It seemed pretty serious."

You were silent as Jungkook continued.

"Let me guess- 'You can't go out with that boy! He's a good for nothing, disgrace-'"

"They said they liked you- us." You cut his impression short. "They said love like ours couldn't be faked. They're letting me continue to live with you."

"...Oh." Jungkook clearly didn't know how to respond to that. He was stunned, a deer in the headlights.

The two of you are silent, awkwardness hanging between you two.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" you say with a nervous chuckle.

Please say it isn't.

"Yeah, totally," Jungkook laughed along, his smile matching yours. "Must mean we did a good job of faking it, huh?"

I wasn't faking it.

"Maybe we should go into acting," you smiled. "Prepared to have me live with you forever?"

"Always, princess," he grins, ruffling your hair. "You know I can't have a moment go by without you by my side."

"If only my parents could've heard that."

"Yeah," he chuckled. "Love like that can't be faked- little do they know."

"Yeah." You wave it off with a laugh, putting an end to the awkward discussion.

Little do they know.

-

Tonight was the night you were finally going to see Jungkook's band, Obsidian Chaos, perform.

Sure, he had many other performances, but you were never able to make them because of work. Your boss, however, seemed to have an extreme case of the swine flu, and therefore was unable to perform her duties. Code: Day off.

So here you were, in a bar that would have any other girl of your social standing shriek in horror. Everyone here looked something like a freak show in a conservative's book, and the place reeked of weed and liquor. You were living for it.

You were singing along to one of the band's newest songs. You knew the words already, having listened to the songs on repeat using your Spotify Premium.

Jungkook looked good on stage- his skin shiny with sweat as he poured his heart out into the songs. He was really revving it up on the guitar, the bassist and drummer both keeping up in stride. They were truly something special, and you found yourself glad that they were a bit more underground. It made you feel like you could keep them to yourself.

It wasn't until they finished you were able to meet the bandmates.

You had never met them before, as they were always practicing in the drummer's garage. They didn't have much need to go to Jungkook's apartment.

They were similar to him, though, also dressed in dark clothing with piercings and tattoos. Equally as hot, in your opinion.

The drummer greets you. "So you're the girl our precious guitarist is going on about!" He picks you up and gives you a hug, twirling as he did so. "I'm the drummer, Jimin!"

"Hey, Jimin!" You didn't even mind how affectionate the guy was, as it didn't seem perverted in the slightest. Perverted hugs were something you had to get used to at a young age, sadly. You shuddered to think back to your father's friends who would give you tight, lingering hugs at 14, all in hopes to feel your developing breasts against their chests.

"Ignore him, he always acts like a puppy whenever there's a pretty girl," the bassist says, extending his hand for you to shake. You did. "I'm Yoongi, the bassist. If I had known Jungkook's roommate was so gorgeous, I would've smoked some of his weed a long time ago."

"I could've just brought it to you, dude," Jungkook says, rolling his eyes.

"I don't trust your shit, man."

"You guys were great up there," you compliment, grinning. "I seriously think Obsidian Chaos is my most played artist on Spotify. The name's pretty neat too- both pretentious and edgy."

"Well, thank you. Jungkook here wanted our name to be ReBex- but luckily seniority rules. We've got a new album coming up soon- Jungkook's gotten a lot of inspiration to write, as of late," Yoongi says. "I wouldn't have thought a girl like you would be into our music, though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you say teasingly, feigning offense.

"You don't exactly fit in here, sweetheart. You stand out," he chuckles.

"How could she not, though? She's hot!" Jimin exclaims.

"So I'd blend in a bit more in something like this?" You yank Yoongi's beanie off, messing up your hair before sliding it on. You pose in it, wiggling your brows as though to get under Yoongi's skin. "I think I look better in this than you do."

"I agree," Jimin says, smiling.

Yoongi only smirks at that. "I agree too- but I think you'd look better in nothing at all, personally."

"Is that so?"

"Hey hey hey!" Jungkook jumps in before the sexual tension can jump further. "Rule number four! I'm adding this now- no fucking the members of Obsidian Chaos!"

"Wouldn't that include you too?" Jimin questions.

Jungkook thinks for a moment. "Revision! No fucking my bandmates."

You all laugh at that.

-

Jungkook wasn't sure what was keeping you so late.

Today you were supposed to be out clubbing with a few of your friends. You definitely deserved a night of fun, and seeing as you weren't lounging around a mansion anymore, your preppy friends hardly got to see you. Jungkook told you he thought it was a good idea for you to be dragged out, and despite the fact he wished he could've come with you- just to keep an eye on you, of course- he had to tend to the shop and write songs with Obsidian Chaos.

Still, this was a ridiculous hour. He had gotten used to staying up this late for you- your job was an abhorrent one, in his opinion. No one should have to stay at work for that long.

The only thing that was keeping him awake was the worry that wracked his brain. Even he didn't club this late- and he had been to quite a number of clubs.

His heavy lids stayed pried open as he wondered where you were. Were you all right? Was everything ok?

What if you were hurt?

What if you had gotten into an accident on the way there? Or the way back home?

What if some creep roofied you? What if your friends had left you at the club?

He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. No, he had to stay optimistic. You were a grown woman, you could care for yourself.

Right?

He began biting his nails as he read his messages to you, asking when you were coming home. It was a nervous habit he had picked up as a kid. He couldn't believe he was regressing back to these habits, yet, here he was.

He huffed, grabbing a jacket, on his way to the club, when suddenly he heard the rattle of the doorknob.

You burst through the door.

With someone else.

The stranger was all over you, his hands roaming up and down your skimpy dress. You awkwardly kicked the door shut, your eyes firmly shut and mouth pressed against his. You moaned when he pinned you against the door, your wrists trapped in his large hands as his mouth began to travel to the nape of your neck, leaving marks in his wake.

Jungkook was frozen, immobile as he watched you hook your leg around the stranger, drawing him closer, pressing his body impossibly closer to your own. The stranger let out a husky growl that had you shuddering beneath him.

There was something oddly familiar about the stranger, though Jungkook knew he had never seen him before in his life. Maybe it was the tattoos that peaked out from beneath the sleeves of his leather jacket. Maybe it was the combat boots or the multiple ear piercings, or even his shaggy hair.

Jungkook couldn't help but realize the man's alternative style was eerily familiar to his own.

It was at that moment you finally opened your eyes from the pure bliss, only to come face to face with Jungkook.

You gasped in surprise, quickly pushing against the stranger's shoulders to pry him off you. "Taehyung," you said in a serious tone, though you sounded breathless.

The man grunted, confused as to why you wanted to stop. He got off of you, turning around to lock eyes with Jungkook.

"Oh, sorry man, didn't see you there," Taehyung chuckled. "Was occupied, you know?"

Jungkook finally found the words to speak, though his mouth felt dry. It felt as though his tongue were too big. "I- yeah, no worries, dude. I'll leave you two to it."

"I- Jungkook," you said.

"Shit, is she your girl?" Taehyung questioned.

"No, my roommate," Jungkook answered. "I was just waiting for her to get home- make sure she's safe and all."

"So you wouldn't mind if we...?"

"Just, um, keep it down. I'll be heading to bed."

"Sweet, bro," Taehyung grinned, turning back to you, leaning in to give you a kiss.

Jungkook finally unfroze, quick to turn on his heel and retreat to his room. He could go to bed now, seeing that you were home safe and sound. He should have no problem falling asleep, what with the anxiety and worry no longer plaguing him.

Despite this, however, as well as the soundproof headphones he had on his ears, he wasn't able to get a wink of sleep.

It was probably apparent the following morning. He had bags under his eyes and kept looking as though he'd faceplant into his cereal.

"You look like shit this morning," you remarked, reaching over to tousle his hair.

Jungkook noted that your new boyfriend was nowhere to be found. You seemed well put together. Your hair was pulled up in a bun instead of the bed head he had been expecting, and you wore the same pajamas as always. Maybe it was the post-sex glow that made you seem so lively.

"Don't worry about me," he yawned, stirring his spoon around in the cereal. He usually loved Lucky Charms, but he found his appetite... absent. Addressing the elephant in the room, he sighs. "So, where's your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend?" You looked at him quizzically before a look of realization painted your features. "Oh! You mean Taehyung?"

"That's the fucker."

"I kicked him out once you went to bed," you shrug.

"Huh?"

"We... Well, we didn't do anything. I wasn't in the mood to have sex last night, I guess," you clarified.

"I... um..." Jungkook didn't know what to say.

"Yeah, so... sorry if you put on those bulky headphones of yours. Knowing you, you just played Waterparks at full blast in an attempt to block out noises that weren't being made," you chuckled nervously.

"You didn't have to kick him out on my account," Jungkook said, scratching the back of his neck. "It's still a bit before 3. It's not against the roommate agreement."

"No, no, don't worry. I wanted to," you said, offering a weak smile. "I was just... tired."

"You sure? I mean it- you don't have to stay abstinent on my account. I've brought someone home before. It'd be hypocritical of me being upset with you doing the same."

"I mean it, Jungkook, I wanted to.  I just wasn't in the mood."

You seemed to be in the mood before, Jungkook thought. Had he not walked in, he had no doubt the two of you would've gotten more hot and heavy than earlier.

Jungkook felt guilty for ruining your potential hook up. "Alright, well, if that's what you wanted, my guy."

Your smile faltered a little. "No princess?"

Jungkook chuckled warmly at that, reaching forward to pull you in. "My bad, princess," he said properly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I was just relieved that you were here and safe. I won't lie when I say I wasn't worried- I was just about to head out to look for you."

"Thank you for staying up so late for me."

"Anything for my princess."

-

"I'm pretty sure your father would send a SWAT team on my ass if he found out I was letting his little girl do this," Jungkook laughed, watching as you coughed after taking a hit.

"Shut-" cough "-the fuck up, Jungkook."

The two of you were sitting on his couch, smoking weed. It was the first time you had ever smoked pot with Jungkook, as the moment you got home after a long day at work, you asked whether or not you two could smoke together. Well, demanded was a more accurate term. Jungkook didn't question it though, instead giving you that same, obnoxious, amused smirk.

"Is this your first time smoking weed, baby?"

"I haven't smoked since I was 16," you say, taking another hit, letting it settle deep into your lungs before coughing numerous times. "It was only twice with some guy who thought I'd blow him if I got high enough. My first time I didn't feel anything despite four hits. The second time I took 6, but his weed was so weak I didn't feel much. Man, was he pissed."

"A guy like Wonderbread, I'm guessing?"

You laugh. "Alas, even commoners feel privileged. I'll let you know though I didn't even touch his little cheesedick."

"You just used his pot and took advantage of him, huh?"

"Oh please! That's not it at all. Either I take advantage of him than the other way around. His intentions were totally sketchy, hoping I'd become inebriated enough to fulfill the lewd fantasies he had garnered. If he was willing to waste weed on a girl, he should've left it at that. I didn't owe him anything. No matter how much shit guys give, whether it's weed or Lamborghinis, you don't owe them anything. You don't owe them love, sex, or a relationship. It's their choice whether or not they want to buy your affections, but those feelings cannot be owed. Women are not in debt to men because they fool themselves into thinking that they deserve blowjobs because they're 'nice' or 'waste shit' on the woman."

Jungkook whistled. "I sense a lot of pent up anger today. I gotta say, I never expected you to demand my stash. Wait, no, I did. But I expected it sooner."

"My boss is a bitch," you mutter. "She's great at her job, and I admire her, but God, she's a cunt."

"What'd she do?"

"She's just-" You let out a frustrated groan, taking a deep inhale from the blunt before puffing it out. "She's so condescending and demanding. She expects me to be little miss perfect and thinks I'm lazy because I'm privileged. It's like no matter how hard I work and prove myself she still can't see me as anything other than a spoiled rich brat. Every tiny mistake I make confirms it, and every big accomplishment goes ignored."

"Are you unhappy enough to quit?"

You sigh, taking another hit. You could feel it setting in now. Your limbs felt lighter, but your head a little heavier. One thing was for sure- this shit was a lot stronger than what you had at 16. "No. I love my job, and I still respect and admire her. I may complain about it a lot, but I still love it."

"You complain about me a lot, though, princess," he laughed, nudging his thigh against yours. "Does that mean you love me?"

"Well, yeah."

Jungkook tenses up at that. "You do?"

If your head wasn't as cloudy as it was now, you wouldn't have opened your trap. You felt uncaring, however, speaking freely as you took another hit. "Yeah, I do. I love you. We've lived together for months, Jungkook. You're one of the people I'm closest to. You mean the world to me."

You lean your head against his shoulder, fluttering your lids as you shut them, concentrating on his breathing. The rise and fall of his shoulders lift your head along with them, and he lets out a chuckle. His fingers comb through your hair, doting. "I love you too."

You take a hit, playfully blowing some of the smoke in his face. "I'll always be your princess, right?"

He smiles again. "Didn't figure you as the affectionate stoner. Usually, you're acting like a brat, y'know."

"What can I say," you hum, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck, planting a small kiss there. "Pot gets my panties wet."

Jungkook freezes underneath you, and you continue, sucking lightly on the skin to leave small pink and red marks, nipping a bit. You put your blunt in a nearby ashtray and find yourself climbing into his lap, his blown-out pupils locked with your own.

You wouldn't be doing this if you were sober. But right now you were releasing every pent up frustration you had- whether it was anger towards your boss or the sexual attraction you felt to Jungkook.

Jungkook's silent, only staring at you, waiting for your next move. You place your hands on his chest, feeling how quickly his heartbeat raced. You wondered for a moment if yours was doing the same.

And then you stopped thinking.

Your hands slid up from his chest and around his neck, tangling into his long locks as you close your eyes and kiss him. He kisses you back after a few seconds reaching behind you to put out his blunt before gripping onto your thighs, tugging you closer to his body.

You two were completely intertwined, wrapped around one another like ivy, a small, intimate moment that felt so grand in the scheme of things.

And then it stopped.

Jungkook pulled back, gripping your arms to push your chest a few inches from his, ending the kiss. "We can't."

"Why not?" You weren't angry, but rather curious. Your voice didn't even show a hint of confusion, instead instantly accepting it. Maybe it was the sober part of you that knew what you two were doing shouldn't be happening.

"I just... We're roommates."

"I don't remember not hooking up being one of the rules."

"It's an unwritten rule not to sleep with your roommate, I think," Jungkook says, his cheeks turning red. It was as though he were admitting he wanted to sleep with you.

"But you flirt with me all the time and act like you want to..."

"Fuck, I do, princess, I do." Jungkook brushed your hair out of your face, looking into your eyes with as much sincerity as he could muster. "But I don't want to be like that asshole you met at 16, or Wonderbread, or any other asshole you met. I don't want you to think I had ulterior motives or I'm trying to take advantage of you in this state. For all you know I'm exactly like the asshole before but with better shit."

"But you're not, Jungkook. You respect me, I know that."

"Just trust me on this, ok? Nothing changes between us." He presses a kiss against your forehead, as though to further confirm it. "I still love you, of course. You're my roommate, after all. It makes living together a lot easier. I just don't want you to wake up and see me as another douche who saw you as nothing more than a status symbol."

Your voice is quiet, like a child who's parents were disappointed in them. "Ok."

"You did nothing wrong, Y/N."

You nod your head. "Mhm."

Jungkook sighs, gripping onto you tightly before standing up, walking you to your room. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed, princess."

-

Usually, when something was up between you and Jungkook, you'd resolve it quickly.

You guys had been roommates for what felt like forever, now. Of course, you had issues. Of course, you've gotten into arguments. Typically you'd resolve it quickly.

After the encounters with Solji and Taehyung you guys talked about it immediately. Even the smaller things. One time Jungkook accused you of hating a new song he was working on, and you guys argued about it then and there. Another time he had been lazy and forgot to do the dishes, and you had been in a bad mood and lashed out over the small detail. Another time you were just looking to fight for the sake of fighting, and Jungkook called you out on it, resulting in, what do you know, more fighting.

This time, however, was different.

The two of you were barely talking, mainly speaking in grunts and noncommital nods of the head. Neither of you really even used the living room anymore, simply going into the kitchen to make food and eating in isolation in your rooms.

Jungkook still waited for you to get home, though. He wouldn't greet you, however.

You two still kept up with your dishes and cooking, sometimes leaving the food for the other on the countertop.

You started lining up your shoes instead of kicking them to the side, as though to be more mindful.

Both of you hated it, though.

A week without interacting with the person you lived with? Who treated you as a best friend? Agony.

Jungkook was the one who acted on it.

He knocked on your door before opening it. "We need to talk."

Clearly he had just gotten back from hanging out with his bandmates, what with the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and his locks looking particularly unruly. He hadn't even bothered taking off his leather jacket. You could only guess that he marched directly from the front door to your room. It was such a stark contrast from you, who was only wearing pajama shorts and a tank top.

"Why?" You felt shame and embarrassment, your cheeks burning red. Every time you looked at him you could only think of when he pushed you away. When you had made a fool of yourself and climbed all over him. When you made him uncomfortable and overstepped your boundaries. When you ruined everything.

"You know why." It was clear Jungkook was in a confrontational, no-nonsense mood now, having finally mustered up the courage to face this head-on. "We need to talk about that night."

"We were high-"

"No, it was more than that. Otherwise, we wouldn't be in this... this funk."

You could feel tears springing up in your eyes. "Yeah? So?"

"What do you mean so?"

"I mean so?" You let out an exasperated sigh, still unable to meet his eye. "Who cares?"

"I care!"

"I don't want to have this conversation."

"Well, I do." He kicked the door behind him, crossing his arms. "Why're you acting so weird?"

"What? I'm not the only one acting weird, you know. It's a two-way street," you seethe.

"I've been making attempts! I have," he insisted. "I tried talking to you just yesterday in the kitchen when you were washing dishes. You just ran away to hole yourself up in your room. We need to move past this."

"I'm sorry, ok!" You fume, crying out the words. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Sorry for avoiding me?"

"Yes- No-" You bury your face in your hands. "I'm just... I'm embarrassed, ok? You wouldn't understand."

"You're embarrassed because of that night? Because- what, it's me?" Jungkook tilted his head, as though wanting you to meet his eye. "Any other guy and you wouldn't be acting this way."

"Yes, partially because it's you. You said nothing would change between us but clearly it has," you sighed. "I fucked everything up, Jungkook."

"No, you didn't. I told you that you didn't do anything wrong."

"But I did! You respected me at least, and stopped it from going further because you knew that I wasn't in the right mindset or wasn't capable- I don't know, but the point is that you put in my feelings and thoughts for if I'd be sober and such, especially with that big monologue I had given. But..."

"But what? I don't get it. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't. I'm glad you respected me. But I didn't respect you." You wiped at your eyes, frustrated with yourself. "You were also smoking that night. Yet you thought of me and if I was in the right headspace to consent or think about things, but I didn't think about you. I of all people should've been able to realize that."

"Oh." Jungkook seemed stunned, as though that wasn't the answer he was expecting. "Y/N, it's ok. I've got a lot more resistance than you do, and I'm a lot bigger. I wasn't nearly as affected as you were."

"It still doesn't take away the embarrassment of climbing all over you. I feel stupid," you huffed.

"You're not stupid-" Jungkook stood in front of you and reached out, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Shut up," you hissed. "You're not the one who made a fool of themself."

"Don't lash out at me, princess. You didn't come off as stupid or anything else- you're just overthinking as always."

"As always?!" you mimic. "You're full of it, you know that? God, I hate you sometimes."

You try to push at his chest out of annoyance, but it grabs your hand, keeping it there. "Say that again, I dare you," he growled.

You gulped, able to feel the deep vibrations against the palm of your hand.

You were quiet, whimpering as he towered over you, with you still sitting on the bed and him standing before you. Your eyes lock with his, finally, his hard glare making you cave in on yourself, all of the rage dying within you, leaving something else in its wake. Sensing your submission and the shift in the air, Jungkook only lets out a dark chuckle, leaning in.

You lean back, falling onto the bed as he climbs over you, one leg between your own. You brace yourself, feeling your muscles get tight as he hovers over you, not touching you. You feel the anticipation build as his nose grazes the side of your neck, similarly to how you did that night. His scent overwhelmed you, despite the fact you should've gone nose blind to it after all this time. Still, his cologne and natural scent overpowered you, enveloping you completely.

"You know, I'm getting real tired of your attitude, little girl."

You stiffen at that, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Have you had any alcohol, or smoked anything, or taken anything that might affect your senses?"

"Huh? No?"

"Do you want me to touch you, princess?"

"I..."

"Be a big girl and tell me what you want, baby."

Baby. Princess. Little girl. All names he had called you before, but tonight they hit differently.

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"Jungkook..."

"I want to hear you say it, Y/N."

You took in a deep breath. "I want you, Jungkook."

He smirked at that. "That's a good girl."

Before you had time to process anything, he was positioning you where you were lying on your stomach beneath him, with his knees on either side of you as he straddled the backs of your thighs.

"Jungkook-"

He yanked down your shorts, exposing your panties before giving a sharp spank to your ass.

"You know, it's really unfair that I call you so many pet names and don't have a special one of my own," he says, his voice hot in your ear. "Don't you think so, princess?"

You shuddered beneath him. "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Another spank.

You groaned at the sensation, burying your face into the mattress as you muttered the words.

He pulled your hair, lifting your head so you couldn't hide your face. "What was that? I don't think I heard you. What did I say about using your big girl words?" There was a rain of spanks with those last few words. You could feel your ass start to warm up now.

"Yes, Daddy," you said, biting on your lip from the pain of the slaps. The pure irony of the daddy kink being used, no doubt because of your daddy issues. Your revenge against your parents using Jungkook had finally come full circle.

Jungkook grinned, giving you two more slaps, this time as a reward. "Now was that so hard?"

You feel his fingers go down to the wet spot on your panties, now sticking to your folds, evident from your arousal. You shook your head, gripping the sheets. "No, Daddy."

"Mm, I think my princess liked her spanking," Jungkook hummed, twirling the pads of his digits around your clit, watching you squirm beneath him. "Did you like being put in your place for being such a brat?"

"Fffffucckkk." You couldn't think straight, your hips raising from the bed to buck at his hand, needing more friction.

"Such language, princess." He gives a quick swat to your pussy, watching you twitch and yelp in surprise. "I would've thought a little rich girl like you was taught to avoid such language."

Jungkook was generous as always, giving you what you needed as he continued to pet your folds and rub your clit. He seemed to know exactly how to touch you, drawing small circles as he admired how you squirmed and panted into the sheets. You'd wiggle beneath him, your skin still red from his earlier ministrations.

"I-I'm gonna-" You bit into the sheets. You've never cum this fast with anyone before, and over such a small thing. Jungkook was just rubbing you over your panties and you were losing it. You'd never live this down.

"Oh? Gonna cum in your panties like the disgusting little girl you are?" Jungkook let out a dark, sinister chuckle, leaning down so his lips could be felt at the shell of your ear. "Go ahead and cum, dirty girl."

You felt yourself come undone, thighs shaking as you moaned into the sheets, knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping them. Jungkook rubbed you through it, letting you see the orgasm until its end.

You panted as he flipped you onto your back, petting your hair as you came down from your high. He pressed his hand against your cheek, letting you feel the cool metal of his rings against your hot skin. "How're you doing, baby?"

"I-I'm good," you murmur, eyes drooping and fluttering. "Thank you, Daddy." You turn your head to the side, capturing his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it lightly as you twirled your thumb around it, tasting the metal against your buds.

"Fuck," Jungkook groaned. "You're gonna be the death of me."

Slipping his hand away, he pulls your clothes off, one by one, until you were completely bare beneath him. Your panties are the last to go.

"I think you've ruined these," he chuckles, pulling on the waistband of your underwear to let it snap back against you. "Now it's your turn."

You don't bother covering up, comfortable with him and in your own body. Jungkook grins, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest as he descends further down.

He spreads your legs, arriving at his destination. You let your fingers gravitate to his silky hair, tugging to bring him closer to your goal. He chuckles at the action, answering your request as he lets his mouth finally meet your folds, laving his tongue over the area to help you relax.

You gasp at the feeling, arching as he gets quick to work spreading you open with two fingers so he could have easier access to the area. Your thighs twitch as his tongue finally brushes against your clit, and upon noticing how sensitive you still were, he runs his tongue over it, again and again, a smile evident as you let your thighs tense with every movement.

It wasn't until his lips finally suctioned around it that you felt his finger slip into your entrance as well. It was easy, no friction necessary from your copious arousal, and the feeling overwhelmed you. He crooked his finger up as he pumped into you, finding the bundle of nerves with ease as you found it harder and harder to contain your moans. Before long he had to insert another finger, scissoring the digits to stretch you out.

"So fucking tight," he panted, breathless as he continued to place sloppy kisses against you, rubbing your g-spot in an effort to see you squirm. "Gotta stretch you out to take me. You're so small, I'll probably break you."

"I want you to break me," you reply immediately. "Please, please, please, Daddy!"

Jungkook let out a smirk at that. "Seems like that bitchy attitude is finally replaced with manners. Since you asked so nicely..."

His mouth returns to your cunt, french kissing and sucking harshly on your clit has his hand hammers into you, rough and sloppy thrusts helping catapult you towards your high. Before long your eyes were rolling back, hips rising into the air as you feel your high overpower you, and you were cumming against Jungkook's tongue.

He eased his ministrations, slipping his fingers out despite your whine at being empty. He let his tongue run over your folds, soothing them before he came up for air, lips meeting yours with a sloppy kiss. You realized the two of you hadn't kissed at all since this whole ordeal, and you pulled him closer between your legs, pulling him closer as you let your tongues dance together.

He breaks away again, but keeps his forehead against yours, as though to assure you he doesn't intend on ending it just yet. "How're you holding up, baby?"

"Mm good," you hum, still high on bliss. You reached down to his crotch, palming it, pleased to feel the stiffness beneath the material of his pants. "Want Daddy's cock."

"How can I say no to that? You just can't get enough, can you? C'mon then, take me out so I can get inside that dirty cunt."

You do as you're told, finally able to get his cock free as you hook the waistband of both his pants and boxers around his thighs. As you do so he takes off his leather jacket, tossing it to the corner of the room.

He pumps himself, jerking off into his hand as you watch. He was about as big as you expected- then again you always fantasized about Jungkook having a big cock. One by one he was fulfilling all of your fantasies, and creating even more.

He pressed the head of his cock against your pussy, rubbing up and down the slit for lubrication. You ogled his size, wondering how much the stretch of his girth would burn. As though reading your mind, or just the expressions on your face, Jungkook stops. "Are you sure you want me in this messy cunt of yours, baby?" he questions. "We can wait. I can eat you out some more if you want."

"No, I need you inside me," you immediately respond.

He can't help but grin at that, cooing at you with a condescending, sickly sweet voice. "No please? So demanding. Spoiled little princess, used to getting what she wants." He pushes inside of you inch by inch, and you hiss at the stretch, loving the slight burn.

When he bottoms out inside of you your foreheads are pressed together, hot and sweaty, but oddly intimate. A single tear runs down your cheek, and he reaches up to wipe it away, cradling your cheek.

"Look at me, Y/N."

You do so, eyes locking with his. "I'm ok," you confirm before he can ask. You were able to read his expressions as easily as he could read yours. "Move, please."

He nods, doing so, starting a slow rhythmic pace as he pumps into you. You groan at the feeling. You couldn't remember the last time you had been intimate with someone, especially someone who fills you up so completely, unable to even avoid the sensitive parts within you.

Soon Jungkook was picking up the pace, the thrusts becoming harder and quicker, more precise as he lifted himself up onto his arms to look at you, admiring how your eyes would roll back every now and then. He reached between you two, spreading your lips apart with two fingers to properly look at how well you were taking him.

"Fuck, you're just sucking me in baby," he hissed, doing his best to compose himself. "This pussy was made for me, wasn't it? No one else."

You moaned at that, biting your lip. "D-Daddy..."

"That's right- Daddy. This pussy was made for Daddy, all for him," Jungkook went on, now beginning to rub your clit with your thumb, feeling you clenching down on him with his words."Remember that. Who am I again?"

"My Daddy."

"That's right. Yours. Who's the only person who can fuck you this way?"

"You. Fuck, Daddy, I'm gonna cum. Let me cum for you?"

"Good girl. And who are you going to cum for?"

"You Da-Daddy- ffffffuck-"

"That's right, cum for me. Give me one more, I know you can. Be a good little girl and cream on my cock. Get me as nice and messy as your dirty little cunt."

Your eyes rolled back as your third orgasm shook through you, more powerful than the first two. Droplets of cum sprayed out, getting all over both you and Jungkook. You moaned, shaking as Jungkook groaned in satisfaction.

"Fuck, you just squirted everywhere," Jungkook said, his thrusts getting sloppy. "You're so perfect."

"Cum in me, Daddy. Use me," you asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "Use my body."

"Shit, shit, shit-" Jungkook grabbed your wrists, roughly pinning them to either side of you as he thrust into you like a mad man, using your body to jerk off before finally, he was erupting inside of you, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out inside of you. He panted, hands squeezing your little wrists like a vice. You were positive there would be bruises by the morning.

Soon he collapsed on top of you, sweaty and out of breath. He rolled over, chest heaving as he stared at you, grabbing you and tugging you close so he could bury his face in the juncture of your neck, acting as the big spoon as you two cuddled.

You slowly regained your breath, reaching back to comb through his hair.

"Just stay like this for a minute," he said, eyes closed and voice soft, a stark contrast to his dominating demeanor before. "Let me just hold you for a few minutes and then we can go take a bath, ok? I'll take care of you."

You let him do exactly that.

-

The morning after didn't feel as awkward as you had expected, Instead of the uncomfortable air that had been left after the two of you made out, it was oddly comfortable. Not the kind of comfortable that was there before, with you two bickering and joking with each other, but rather a far more affectionate one.

The two of you had been waiting for months to be able to touch each other how you wanted, and now you had the opportunity. You weren't able to keep your hands off of Jungkook, and not even in a sexual way. You'd let your hands roam freely over his body, whether it was combing through his fluffy hair or feeling the broad expanse of his chest, and the hard muscles beneath his band tees.

Jungkook wasn't much better. You'd be doing as simple as making yourself a bowl of ramen and he'd press up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. It was like nothing was between you anymore, and it felt so right. Jungkook was your best friend, your roommate. The man you had lusted and pined after for what felt like forever. He just got you.

Or that's what you thought at least.

The two of you were watching a movie again, as always, but instead of the casual arm draped around your shoulders you two were completely intertwined, ignoring the movie as you two shared small, slow kisses. You let yourself melt in the moment, the taste of him addictive.

He gives you that look that you love, the one where his gaze is deceptively soft and solely focused on you.

"You know," he says between pecks, "I meant what I said before."

"Meant what?" you smile.

"That I love you." He pushes a lock of hair behind your ear, staring at you. "I think I've been in love with you since my father's little party."

You stiffened.

In love?

That was very different from the love you had interpreted.

You plaster on a fake smile, hoping he didn't notice how you had tensed up. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," he hums, pressing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"

"I did," you tell him, burying your face into his chest to avoid looking at him, focusing on the vibrations of his chest as he hummed with delight, wrapping his arms tighter around you as he pressed his lips against the top of your head.

That night you slept in his bed, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. You didn't get a wink of sleep that night, and the moment he rolled over to his side, you knew what to do.

When Jungkook woke up, you were gone.

You had seemingly left no traces. Your bed was neatly made, your dresser drawers were empty. It was like you didn't exist.

Jungkook was absolutely distraught. He had the shop closed down for a bit, instead choosing to lay around in the apartment you once shared, playing the same few chords on his guitar.

He was angry. He was sad. He was pissed and frustrated and miserable and confused. He felt so stupid for fucking everything up. He wondered if what you said was a lie. Was everything between you a lie? It had to be. How else could you just cast him to the side like that? Like he meant nothing to you?

In the end, it seemed you truly were just using him. He should've known any affections you had for him were just some phase. You were just indirectly lashing out at your parents and using what you knew would piss them off. He knew that since the beginning, and still let himself get fooled.

That didn't stop him from sulking, however.

It wasn't until Yoongi barged into his apartment that Jungkook was forced to do something.

"What the hell man? You've been skipping out on practices- where have you been?" Yoongi looked around, seeing the apartment a mess.  Jungkook didn't look much better, sitting upside down on his couch in sweats and greasy hair, strumming on his guitar. "Jesus Christ, dude. I got you were a mess from the lyrics you've been sending me, but this takes the cake."

"What do you want, Yoongs?"

"I want you to pick your ass up and get out of this funk! I've noticed you haven't been running your shop for a little bit, and it seems clear to me that you've just been sulking around. Where's that roommate of yours? I would've thought she'd tell you to get over whatever it is you're sobbing about and do something about it."

"I don't want to talk about her," Jungkook muttered, striking a chord that had many of the notes clashing.

Yoongi winced at the sound. "I always thought that you two weren't just roommates. She always looked at you how a puppy looks at their owner- and you weren't much better."

"Well, she's gone now," Jungkook said bitterly.

"What happened?"

"She didn't love me, simple as that."

Yoongi shook his head. "That's a lie, dude. That girl was crazy about you."

"Well, that's what happened. I told her I was in love with her and the next thing I know, I wake up and she's gone."

"Maybe it was something else," Yoongi shrugged. "Then again, you knew her better than me. But you can't let some girl keep you cooped up in your apartment. Sulking isn't going to bring her back. Obsidian Chaos is going to be releasing the next album in just a month- you need to have your shit together by then. Don't tell me that you want to quit the band."

"No," Jungkook sighed. "It's just... I miss her. And I feel confused and-"

"You feel about a million emotions, my man, I know. And none of them are exactly helping to motivate you," Yoongi finished. "Do you really want her to see you in this state, though, when she comes back? If she comes back?"

"No," he admitted.

"You can't expect her to come and save you. You've got to save yourself first. She was never responsible for your happiness- remember that. Pick yourself back up and who knows, maybe she'll be waiting for you."

Jungkook did pick himself back up after that. He took a shower and opened the shop, going day by day, and though he still felt heartache and longing for you, he was able to pull himself together a bit more with each passing moment.

Obsidian Chaos released their next album, Oblivion, shortly after. Jungkook wrote most of the lyrics, and every single one was about you. Maybe it was like a siren call, trying to call you back to him. Luckily for them one of the title tracks blew up on a few websites and apps, giving them a lot of coverage and publicity. Their popularity had blown up overnight, radios constantly playing the hit song, making it impossible to escape their sound.

It was a rainy day, about a week after the release of Oblivion when there was a knock at the door. Jungkook thought it was a bit too early for him to have stalkers, but he was precautious, looking through the peephole.

To his surprise, it was you. Your hair was soaking wet, your designer clothes sticking to your skin. Your makeup seemed to be running a little.

Jungkook immediately swung the door open, shocked. You were here. You were really here.

"Hi," you said, your voice meek and small. "Can I come in?"

Jungkook stepped aside to let you in, closing the door behind him. He was speechless. There were so many things he had wanted to say to you, weeks of planning some long monologue for nothing. It felt strange seeing you in his apartment, despite the fact you had been there countless times before and lived there yourself. You seemed foreign, out of place, even though it hadn't been that long.

"Congrats on your success, by the way," you said, filling the silence. "Oblivion seems to be a big hit."

"You heard it?"

"I stayed up all night waiting for the release. Besides, your song plays everywhere I go. People love it. I couldn't escape your voice even if I wanted to."

"The song was about you."

"Yeah... I know." You wiped your wet face, taking in a deep breath.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Jungkook finally asked.

Your breathing was shaky. "I came to apologize. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness but... It was wrong for me to flake out like that, to leave without explanation."

"Why did you?"

You seemed unable to look him in the eye. "Every time a guy told me he loved me, that he was in love with me, it turned out to just be to use me. It was a way to get on my good side and use me for... Well, ulterior motives. When you said you loved me, I had spent so much time convincing myself that you didn't see me that way that I assumed you only meant platonically. Even if I wanted it to be in a romantic sense. When you confirmed, though, that you were in love with me, it just sparked so many memories of guys before. I was stupid. You've proven time and time again that you're honest and genuine, and that you respect me in a way those boys never could, but I couldn't handle it. I needed time away to figure my shit out. So I left and went to my parents', and I told them everything. The fake dating, the roommate situation, the job, that you were in love with me- all of it.

"My parents have been wrong about a lot of things. About what I should be, about what kind of guy would make a suitable husband, but they were right about one thing." Your eyes finally locked with his. "I was stupid to let you go, especially when I'm as head over heels over you as you are for me."

"So..." Jungkook didn't know what to say, overwhelmed with your speech. "What does this mean?"

"It means I love you too, Jungkook. I'm in love with you. I meant it when I said it back then, the same way you meant it. I took a taxi and ran over here as soon as I realized that. I've been in love with you for God knows how long, and I want to be with you, for real this time. That is... if you'll take me back."

Jungkook couldn't help but melt at that, smiling as he pulled you into a tight embrace, despite how your wet form began to dampen his clothes. "Always, princess."

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hellooo can I have s Hanako, Kou and Teru with an s/o who gets nosebleeds often due to lack of certain vitamins? And everytime it happens they just get very annoyed because now they have to wash their face to rid of the blood and stop the bleeding. Thank you <3

hanako x gn!reader, kou minamoto x gn!reader, teru minamoto x gn!reader

a/n: no worries, anon! That really does sound like a pain, i’m sorry that you have to deal with that :(( you’re very welcome though, and thank you so much for requesting!! <3 (i also feel like these aren’t the best, but i’m not entirely sure what to add,,, i’m so sorry about that!!)

warnings: blood mention?

word count: collectively, 961

Hanako <3

The first time it happened, he was a bit surprised. Not overly so, in fact he just kinda sat there for a second. After the second passed, and he knew you were ok, he’d laugh a bit saying something along the lines of “I know I’m charming, but calm down a bit.” Go ahead and hit him, I don’t mind. 

“Hey, at least you spend a lot of the time in the bathroom! The sink is right there,” He’d say, listening as you told him how frustrating they were. He definitely jokes about it a lot- however, he still knows it’s not fun, so if you tell him to stop he’ll (defensively) do so. Just… don’t take him seriously. He means no actual harm. 

On a slightly more serious note, I can see Hanako being a big unnerved by excessive blood. If you were to run into the bathroom during or after a messy nosebleed, he may be a bit quieter. He wouldn’t want you to worry though, so he’d crack the usual joke, waiting for you to leave before he let it get to him. 

If something like that were to happen during the school day, expect for him to double-check that you’re okay after school. Seeing blood, it can’t help but remind him of death, so he just wants the reassurance that you’re still alive and well. Just give him a smile and tell him you’re fine, and he’ll be content. And perhaps a bit clingy as well- as per usual, he still means well.

Once he finds out it’s from vitamin deficiencies, he’ll mess around with you and Nene, saying that they could simply go get some vegetables from her garden. Sure, if that would make the problem magically go away, she’d offer them but- for Pete’s sake, Hanako, stay away from the garden. He’ll also probably casually say something like “don’t worry, (Y/N), I didn’t eat my vegetables either.” Once again, take everything he says with a grain of salt. He really doesn’t mean any harm. 

Kou Minamoto <3

AHAHA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH- Our poor little Kou definitely panics the first time it happens. Grows frantic, asking if you’re ok, if that was normal, and what he should do to help. Follows you into the restroom as well- he honestly does so thoughtlessly, so, if you find it strange, I’d recommend keeping it to yourself. Especially since he’ll definitely do it again. 

I say he goes into panic mode the first time it happens, but- no matter how often you tell him that it’s just something that happens, or show that you genuinely aren’t worried (just annoyed), he’s going to get a bit antsy. As most do, he associates blood with pain, so he always worries that it hurts you. Just let him know that you’re ok, and he’s bound to calm down a bit… after your nosebleed is over and cleaned up :)

After you let him know what causes them, he’ll ask if there’s anything he could cook to help. Whether or not there is, he hopes that it’s still the thought that counts. Should there be, he’ll definitely cook it for you. Actually- even if it can’t help, he still really enjoys cooking for you. That’s a bit off topic though-

He buys you a thing of baby wipes and napkins after you get a nosebleed in public (and after Teru suggests it), should you not carry them around already. If you do, then he’ll just present them as extras. He’s definitely a bit embarrassed if you question it, but he’ll still insist that you take them. He also gets you a miniature bottle of hand sanitizer, if you need it. Once you run out of any of those things, expect him to present you with more the next day. 

Kou simply… cares about you. So much. He’ll probably ask too many questions, worry a little often, and be more frantic than you are half the time, but know it’s just because he loves and cares for you. Give him a little pat on the head (after washing off) and tell him to calm down, and he’ll eventually take your word for it.

 Teru Minamoto <3

Ah, Teru. The most rational out of the three- unlike Kou and occasionally Hanako, he recognizes immediately that it’s not life-threatening. Just a nosebleed. He’ll get you tissues and escort you to the restroom (if it’s after school or during a break). If it’s in class, he’s just going to… treat it normally. He’ll ask you if you’re alright afterwards, but he’s genuinely just… calm about it.

He definitely keeps tissues and baby wipes handy when out in public. And always makes sure that the student council room has tissues. Our boy is going to be prepared for you, there’s no doubt about that. 

If anyone thinks it’s gross, they can be prepared for a death stare. Sure, it’s not ideal, but he doesn’t want anyone to think that it’s something you can help. Plus, it’s already a big enough pain for you- you shouldn’t have to put up with any comments others may make. 

He’ll definitely wait patiently for you outside of the restroom- unlike his brother (and Hanako, technically) he’s going to give you your space, since he’s sure you probably don’t want his input. Or just… him watching you wash off your face. Finally, a boy who respects your privacy <3

Though he may chuckle a bit when you complain about them, don’t think he’s laughing at the fact that they’re annoying. He honestly just thinks that seeing you annoyed is cute- he’ll 100% listen to you rant about them when they happen, and be sympathetic towards you. No matter what it is, seeing (Y/N) upset isn’t entirely fun.