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pandorasprongs · 2 years ago

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INTERLUDE | are we still friends?

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

SUMMARY: after months of ghosting, reader finally gets to talk to jamie again at the end of her second year.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: so we're going back in time to when reader's in uni and early in jamie's man city career :) hope u all enjoy! (also i know frats aren't a thing in the uk but i didn't find that out till after i published the prologue rip) i'd also suggest listening to 'are we still friends?' by tyler the creator for this chapter too just for the vibes — also!! thank you so much for 200 followers it's insane so many of you enjoy my fics :))

Age 19

"And that's it for this semester! Congrats everyone!" Your professor greets the room as the last person finishes their presentation. The room cheers, — albeit weakly given that most of the students there were coming down from their finals week caffeine addiction, — and everyone soon starts filing out.

You pass by your professor on the way out with Liv and hand her the trinket that the two of you planned on giving out to all of the professors you've had this semester. Some out of gratitude, some to make them feel guilty for the low marks they've given. This certain professor, a lady in her mid-40s who has been in the STEM area of research for years, had designated the two of you her favorites.

"Thank you so much, ladies. It was such a pleasure having the two of you in my class." You both give her a warm smile before heading into the hall.

When you make it outside of the building, Liv lets out a cathartic scream of relief. "It's finally done!" You laugh at your friend's reaction. You were glad too, but not enough to yell in public.

As you headed back to your student hall, you pulled out your phone. It had become routine to message Jamie every time you were heading back to Manchester, which you were the next week when your parents picked you up.

Hey Jamie! How've you been? How's Man City? Saw the match with Cardiff, you did great.

You press send before adding on, If you're still here, maybe you want to meet up before you go back? I'm heading back to Manchester next week too if you want to meet up then instead.

You send that too and type out I miss you, but after glancing at the rest of your unread messages, you delete it and sigh in defeat.

You don't even know why you're still trying. You haven't spoken to Jamie in months. No, it's almost been a year. The last time you did was when you went home for the summer holiday after your first year of uni, but even then, Jamie seemed distant and cold. He left the lunch early too after he got a call from his manager, much to your dismay. Even before that, his messages to you were getting less and less frequent till he finally stopped replying a few months into your second year.

Maybe it stung more knowing it was around the time you left that you realized how really felt about him. It wasn't just platonic love anymore; you might've actually been in love with your best friend then. But those feelings have since disappeared, at the same rate that Jamie disappeared from your life.

So now you were in a pub, supposedly celebrating the end of your second year in uni, but you couldn't stop staring at your phone, waiting for a reply. You've been re-reading your message to him and staring at that delivered in the corner until you finally broke out of the trance thanks to one of your friends calling out to you.

"Oi! You're not even tipsy. Are you playing or not?" Tina asks and you shut your phone before shifting your focus to the conversation. Right, you're playing Never Have I Ever.

"Shit, sorry," you apologize before lifting your hand. "I am now. What's the last one?"

"It was never have I ever slept with a footballer," Liv explains quickly, but the entire group had this knowing look on their faces that told you everything they thought of you.

Maybe it was fueled by the anger directed at said footballer or the fact that you knew they all thought you were a prude for not having hooked up with anyone the whole time in uni, — as far as they knew, — but you give them a knowing look that caused everyone's expressions to shift.

"No fucking way, you have?" Sam asks and you take a shot as confirmation.

"Technically yes," you explain but decide to hide which player it was. Because if they knew it was one of the up-and-comings of the Premier League, you'd never hear the end of it. Plus, one of them was bound to snitch to a newspaper for sure. "Back when I was 17 and before I left for uni, I slept with someone who ended up getting scouted." You neglect to mention that someone was your best friend, who agreed to be your first time because you were sure you'd make a bad decision the moment you stepped foot in a uni.

If they knew where you were from, they would've figured it out instantly. But you didn't have a Mancunian accent and none of them had ever bothered to ask where you were from over these two years — except Liv, who was no longer paying attention to the whole game and just scrolling on her phone, — so you were basically in the clear.

They moved on from your grand revelation quickly and continued with the game. At the end of it, you were probably the most sober out of all of them, so you ordered a Cosmopolitan. Maybe alcohol led to bad decisions, but at least it kept you off your phone.

You continued to talk with your friends till Tina gasped. You all turn to her to ask what happened when she exclaims, pretty loudly, "Looks like all of us have a chance at checking 'hooking up with a footballer' off our lists tonight." She giggles before leaning back into her seat.

You join the rest of them to look at what Tina had just seen and realize that not one, but two teams' worth of players had just walked into the pub. From Cardiff City and... Man City.

You already feel your heartbeat quickening and your eyes instantly start looking for Jamie in the crowd. The thoughts of 'he has to be here,' and 'he can't be here,' battle it out in your head, but when your eyes finally land on your former best friend, you don't know if the butterflies in your stomach are a good thing or not.

"Well, fuck it." You hear one of the girls you're with say as she downs another shot and gets up from the table. Some of the others join her in the group, but you're still frozen from nerves. Best way to heat up? More cocktails.

You watch with the other girls from a distance as the braver ones take their chances with the footballers on the other side of the bar. But for most of it, you can't take your eyes off Jamie.

He looks really different, like bad different. He's loud and boisterous, but not in the way he was before. You watch how he talks to his teammates and you can almost see how his overconfidence masks the level of insecurity he has with much older players. Or maybe you're overthinking it. You haven't seen him in a while.

When your friends get back to the table along with some new drinks and stories, you try and listen intently. But you really couldn't stop looking behind them.

You don't think Jamie's felt your eyes on him, so you weren't worried he'd turn and see you staring. But if he did, you wondered how he'd react. Would he go wide-eyed and stare back or just look away as if he didn't just spot his best friend of a decade at a pub? You were about to find out.

After downing one of the drinks in front of you, — you weren't even sure if you were the one who ordered that one, to be honest — you excuse yourself from the table. When they saw where you were walking over to, they decided to start cheering. It did help your nerves, even though you were approaching them for different reasons.

"Jamie!" You get his attention and the moment his eyes land on yours, shock fills his face. You almost scoff at that. He goes to the place where you're studying and assumes that he wouldn't run into you?

You didn't even plan out what you were going to say, so instead you sarcastically greet, "Nice to see you here. In Cardiff. Where I go to uni."

Jamie doesn't say anything and just continues to stare at you. His cocky facade almost slips too, till one of the other Man City players rests his arms on Jamie's shoulders and he suddenly tenses. You've seen him before, probably in one of those tabloid articles, judging from his overall demeanor. He seemed like the type to get into those scandals.

"Ah fuck, I thought we got rid of you lot already. Don't you have enough drinks from your friends over there?" George, you finally remembered his name, states and you're taken aback. He must've seen you coming from that direction.

"No, I'm not here for that." You answer bluntly before turning back to Jamie, starting to get annoyed. "Are you seriously not going to say anything?"

The Jamie you knew would be the first to defend you, even if it was just over someone knocking into you in the halls or stealing your pens. But it wasn't that you were after, honestly. You just wanted him to say something, anything at all.

"You know her, Tartt?" George scoffs and looks at Jamie. When Jamie continues to stay silent and just looks down at his feet, he chuckles and nudges the younger footballer. "A past hook-up, huh? Judging by your reaction. No need to be embarrassed, Jamie," he glances back at you and tries to whisper, "She's quite fit. Well, by your standards."

You roll your eyes, the anger starting to bubble. Now, Jamie had to say something right? But seeing no reaction, you correct him yourself. "Look, I'm not one of his bitter exes. I'm his..." You actually don't how to end that sentence.

George takes advantage of your pause and by now, some of the footballers around them had turned their attention to the scene. "Look woman, I don't care who you are to him, but take. the. fucking. hint."

You still don't remove your eyes from him. "Jamie," you whisper, almost pleading at that point.

Jamie looks up and seeing the multiple eyes on him at the moment, he finally speaks up, "You want an autograph or something? We're trying to enjoy our night, so I'll sign a napkin for you and you can be on your way."

The coldness in his response causes you to stumble and you take a step back. What did he just say to you? You try and search his face for any sign of remorse or guilt. Something that says, 'Please don't hate me, I didn’t mean it.' Nothing.

The sounds of the other footballers laughing don’t help either; it only contributes to the rising feeling of heat and embarrassment in you. You can feel the tears starting to form. There's no reason for you to break down in front of all of them, so you answer quickly, "Right. No need. Sorry for disturbing your night."

You turn around quickly, but not without hearing George ask Jamie who you were. For a second, you almost thought he'd give him the truth.

"Dunno, probably some fan I met before." That breaks the dam and the first few tears drop to your cheeks. A crying girl isn't an irregular sight at a bar, but you really didn't feel like staying in the same place as Jamie anymore.

You approach the table to grab your things when you notice that most of your friends had already scattered across the pub. The only one left there was Liv, — who was the designated driver for tonight despite your university being a 5-minute walk away — who notices your tear-stained face and is quick to rush over to you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

You shake your head. "Don't worry. I just want to head back." Liv hadn't even known you for two years, but she knew that you weren't one to talk about your feelings. Instead, she nodded and offered to help you out of the pub, but you shook your head once again. You had a relatively high limit and partner it with what just happened with Jamie, you were practically sober. You grabbed your clutch and coat before rushing out of the place, furiously wiping the teams from your face.

Fuck Jamie Tartt. Fuck those Man City losers. Fuck everyone involved in turning your best friend into whoever that was. The boy you once knew was gone. Fully and completely gone. You had to accept that.

But even then, you thought you'd hear the door open behind you. You thought it would be Jamie. You thought he'd chase after you. You thought he'd pull you into a hug. You thought he'd apologize for what he did and for everything. You thought he'd cradle your face as he did so. You thought he'd plant a tender kiss on your lips as an apology too. You thought he'd re-enter your life as if nothing had changed.

But he did none of that.

And you went home alone.

—

"(Y/N)? It's Liv, again!" You hear from the other side of your door, but make no attempt to move from your position in your bed. It was just too comfortable, perfect for wallowing in when you've officially ended the longest friendship you've ever had. Liv continues, "I'm heading home soon, but I asked Donna if she could keep bringing food for you to your door till you head home."

You were touched by the gesture but knew you weren't going to touch any of those bags till late at night when the hall was completely deserted. Till then, you'd be sleeping. Your parents had delayed picking you up till the last day and you've never been more glad about that.

"See you next semester! Love you!" were Liv's parting words and once you heard her footsteps recede, you fell back to sleep.

In all honestly, you've lost track of time at that point. Yeah, it was pathetic sitting in your room as if you were mourning the death of a loved one, but it's not like anyone cared. Well, Liv did, which is why she started bringing you food when she realized you weren't leaving your room, but she was heading home to London. Your parents had no idea what happened and you intended to keep it that way. The rest of your friends were off with their own lives, not even giving you a second thought. Jamie sure as hell didn't care what happened to you. He made that clear.

So for the rest of your time left in the hall, you just stayed in your room. Like a hermit. Jamie would've found it funny, you thought once, till it caused you to burst into tears once again. The more you tried to forget Jamie, the more you thought of him, which was the worst loop you could be in.

He's even in your dreams. One of them felt so real because you were in your exact position in reality when your phone rang. You saw his name as the caller, but 'dream you' just pressed decline. Even deleted the missed call notification. Good for her.

Then, you wake up to a missed call and a text from your mom. On route to Cardiff! Can't wait to see you, sweetie.

Ah, fuck. Had that much time really passed? You jumped out of your bed and start fixing up. Technically, you had 3 and a half hours to do so, but counting showering, cleaning up your suitcases from your dusty closet, and shoving almost a years worth of items into said suitcases, then you were in a bind and never prayed for traffic more in your life.

And from the sheer fear of your parents giving you a sermon in front of the entire building, you almost forgot about your former state of wallowing in self-pity. Then you were faced with taking down the decorations on your wall.

There was a mix of everything from school banners, even flyers, and pictures you'd taken with your friends and parents. You started with those first until the only ones left were the ones related to Jamie. You had pictures with him from multiple stages of your life. There was one from the first football match of his you ever attended and one from your graduation, too.

You had kept the note he made you when you were 16 and you joined your first individual debate tournament. ‘Fucking smash it!’ was scrawled in his handwriting on a post-it note, which you've hung on your wall since your first year of uni.

Even the rings he used to buy you for your birthday till his mom told him to find something new. You slowly pulled them from your desk drawer and realized there were only four. One missing. They were old anyway. You end up shrugging it off and placing them into your suitcase.

When you started inserting the rest of the items into an envelope, you continue to look at that picture with Jamie from when you were seven. Suddenly overcome by an emotion — rage, pity, nostalgia, you're not really sure, — you crumple it with your two hands and hold it like that for a few seconds.

You finally let go and see the two distorted faces, you're suddenly overcome by feelings of guilt. 7-year-old Jamie didn't do anything wrong; what was the point of taking your frustrations on a picture of him? Maybe you can throw darts at a printed photo of the current Jamie when you get home instead.

You flatten the picture as best you can before putting it back into the pile in the envelope. You finish packing your desk and place all the items into one of your suitcases. You look around the room, satisfied. Sure, your sheets weren't made yet, but you were going to leave the place anyway and you needed to shower. It was 40 minutes till your parents would knock on your door, — as seen in the picture they sent of the GPS — so it was more than enough for you to get ready.

Time passed by quickly and soon, your dad was helping bring your bags down to the car while your mom talked about how much weight you've lost while you were away, like they always did.

"Oh! Jamie, he had a game against Cardiff last week, right?" Your dad remembers as he starts the car. You almost freeze at the name, but turn to look out the window to avoid your parents catching whatever expression you had on your face. You were too tired to mask it properly.

"Yes, he was amazing!" Your mom exclaimed before asking. "Georgie said she told him to meet up with you here. Did he?"

"No," you answered quickly. You never lied to your parents, which is probably why they accepted your response so easily. You don't look back at them and continue to look at the passing trees. "Must've been busy."

A/N: yeah... and there you go! here's what happened that night in the pub and hopefully it makes me much more clear why reader still holds something against jamie! we're going back to the present day timeline for the next one so stay tuned!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt angst #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

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meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

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stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Author’s Note: you ARE enough❣️ You ARE loved❣️ You WILL be okay❣️

stressed — zenitsu, kyojuro, sanemi

Agatsuma Zenitsu x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader, Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader

Word Count: ~700

CW: none

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I started taking a lot harder classes this year and it’s killing me and my impostor syndrome because I’m so slow compared to everyone else. It’s making me depressed/stressed so I wanted to request a pick me up request.

stressed — enmu, genya, muichiro

~faqs~

Lowkey gets stressed too 🙃

Does his best to hide it, but Zenitsu’s an open book, so it doesn’t stay hidden for long

Sometimes he’ll even sense your stress before you do

“Are you okay Zeni? You seem stressed.”

“I’m fine!” ☺️

…

*realization hits*

Zenitsu: Are you stressed? 🥺

You: Nooo, you’re stressed! 😒

Zenitsu: But I’m not? 🥲

You: Well your stress is stressing me out! 😖

Zenitsu: But I’m not stressed?! 🫠

*insert Spiderman meme here*

Affirmations

Once you’ve determined that you’re both adequately stressed 💀😂

Zenitsu brings out ✨The Jar of Affirmation✨

Aka your equivalent of scrolling through cheesy, inspirational social media posts when you’re feeling low

Zenitsu: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! 😍

You: YOU ARE CAPABLE! 😎

Zenitsu: YOU ARE SMART! 🤓

You: YOU ARE DETERMINED! 😤

It’s kinda cathartic to yell/be yelled at, y’know? 🥰😆

Lovingly, ofc

Your stress hits close to home for Kyojuro (imposter syndrome, inadequacy), but he’s unsure how to support you

Which is not to say that he doesn’t try

Bc he does try, a lot and often 🥺

But a pin pricking feeling that he isn’t quite cut out for comforting you frequently surfaces

“I can order takeout and build a pillow fort for us to watch a movie in together? Would that be okay?”

Your stress fades to a gentle, manageable pulse as Kyojuro’s tender doubt gnaws at your chest, your arms hugging him into your warmth as you murmur softly

“That would be absolutely perfect. Thank you for taking care of me.”

—

He still questions his ability to ease your burdens as you snuggle into his side, plastic containers and utensils spread out on the fluffy blanket beneath you, a thin canopy of cotton sheet and fairy lights billowing above

Could I have decorated better? 😕

Why did I make us sit on the floor?! 😞

But he allows himself a lingering, adoring smile when you begin making airplane noises, happily opening his mouth to accept your forkful of pad Thai

“I love you!” you grin, darting in to peck his nose

“I wuv y’u too!” he declares, the tips of his ears as red as his heart

He’s convinced that pad Thai’s never tasted so delicious

Knows your favorite snacks better than he knows himself, and won’t hesitate to walk to the corner store to buy you a lil snick snack

“Kyo, it’s almost midnight. I’m fine.” 😝

“Your stomach rumbled.” ☹️

“I can eat in the morning.”

“Fine.”

…

“I shall wait until midnight, at which point it will be morning.” 😎

“What if I fall asleep before you get back?”

“Then I guess you will most certainly eat in the morning.” 😌

Doesn’t let you lift a finger, sometimes to the extent that your stress morphs to anger 🤪

“I said I was stressed, not incapable.” 😐

“Me helping you is a testament of my love, not a commentary on your ability.” 🤨

“You aren’t helping me! You’re infantilizing me!” 😖

“I in fact have not put you in a diaper nor made you suck on a pacifier.” 😃

“I will dye your hair while you’re asleep.” 😒

“Would a spa day reduce your stress?”

“No, but watching your reaction to waking up with green hair would.” 😌

“If you somehow manage to dye my hair without waking me up, then I guess I deserve it.” 🙃

“Could you at least let me wash my dishes? Or put toothpaste on my own toothbrush?” 😕

“No and Yes. Okay?”

“I want to tie my shoelaces too.”

“You can do one shoe.” 😉

“Whatever.” 🙄🥰

Gets you out and about

Whether it’s joining him on a grocery run or just walking around the block

Sanemi knows a change of scenery can refresh and remove the monotony of stress

He’ll even coax you into photoshoots

“Stop. You need a picture underneath that tree.”

“Wait, the sunlight is framing your face so beautifully.”

“Let’s take a selfie together.”

Not bc he loves being your personal photographer 🥴, but bc he sees how much you brighten at his softness 🥺

Sees how happy his explicit (albeit occasionally disgruntled) affection makes you

… maybe selfies aren’t so bad after all

#headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #modern au #agatsuma zenitsu #zenitsu x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader

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azure-firecracker · 5 months ago

Note

💥🥳🦋

Yahoo thank you for the ask! Sorry this took so long!

The game is here.

💥What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Number of times Scully gets kidnapped in the exact same way (they clearly know how to put characters in danger in a variety of ways so it doesn’t feel repetitive- they did it with Mulder). So I would lessen that, and I would add more role reversals to even it out. Y’all know that I am constantly doing this with fanfic:)

I would also want the show to pay more attention to Scully’s agency, because it gets taken away a lot, and she’s the female main character, and the writers’ room was mostly men, and I just…do not like that.

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

I started writing fanfic for Six: The Musical in spring 2020 when I was locked in my house and looking for ways to connect and find an outlet for my creative imagination that wasn’t theater. Writing turned out to be really great because I could essentially act out stories to myself and then write them down (and still do this) and it helped me find a new community. I’ve traditionally written the most since then at times when I’ve been the most isolated or lonely (COVID, 9th grade year abroad, summer after a rough senior year), but now I’m realizing how much joy it brings me, and I’m trying to keep making time for it in college, even though my mental health is much better.

🦋 Which character is your favorite to write?

Back when I was in the ATLA fandom, I really loved writing Azula. A lot of her fears and motivations were similar to mine, and her angsty thoughts when I wrote her did often parallel my own (though not exactly-and demeanor wise we’re quite different). Writing her was often cathartic and served as an outlet for me - but she was also badass and a lot more of a fighter than I am, so having her be able to do that even with the same flaws I had was nice.

But in terms of Mulder and Scully my current loves, it honestly depends on what the situation requires. I will say Scully comes more easily to me, because I find writing women easier and I’m also a bit more like her, but Mulder when he’s in the throes of his guilt complex or being super duper tender is wonderful to write. The guilt complex is just so layered and tragic, and the way Mulder loves with his whole heart is such a lovely thing to write about. I almost feel like I’m a part of it. For Scully, her internal monologue is so articulate and clever and thought-out, and that’s quite satisfying to write. I’m also a sucker for badass Scully, so anytime she’s on the warpath and gets to yell and point her gun at bad guys and save her coworker/boyfriend/who knows is just self-indulgent and fun for me.

This got long! Tysm for asking😊😊😊

#fanfic writer ask game

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koraesrambles · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on the conclusion of Gotham War

Alright, so I've made it absolutely no secret that I've been enjoying the crap out of Gotham War. Is it structurally sound with good pacing and clear stakes? HELL no. It's not an air tight story, there are so many holes in all of the characters logic, but it is also an extremely good time.

I don't mind loose storylines in comics like this. Mostly because the premise "full grown man dresses up as a bat and cannot stop himself from mass adopting every orphan that looks like him" is already so ridiculous that anything they posit as a solution in their "war on crime" I think, "Yeah, I can see that." None of the rules of this world make sense.

But I don't really read most things for their air tight plot. Slight detour (There's a point, I swear!), but some perfect examples of this are Puss in Boots and the Last Wish and The Super Mario Bro movie. The last wish is PHENOMENAL. A literal work of art. I've seen it so many times and just basked in it's beauty. Love everything about it, absolutely stellar. But do you know what movie made me look up fan content, read fics, and forced me to buy the digital copy of the movie before the DVD came out? Yep. Mario Bros.

Why? Because I like stories about brothers who love each other and the mario movie gave me exactly that. It's not an air tight, phenomonal story with gorgeous real world applications, but it gave me a fun time where two characters worried about each other incessantly and honestly? that is what I'm here for.

So back to Gotham War. If I'm not actually looking for a ground breaking story (which honestly, I know those happen in these big super hero comic books but I feel like they're usually the *exception* rather than the rule) and just want good character interactions, then Gotham War delivered phenomenally. Especially since my favorite character was the one constantly being wrung through the wringer.

It was a great time. I enjoyed reading it, the art is better than anything I could ever produce even when the characters made weird faces. It was great. But did they stick the ending?

Eh, endings are hard. I would love to see more consequences for Bruce. Him just going off at the end and getting away with the horrible things he did to Jason is annoying. I almost wanted Jason to actually die at the end there, just so that Bruce would feel stupid and sad. If Bruce never acknowledges what he did to Jason (which . . . he probably won't, given the track record) then I'll be pretty disappointed. That's some juicy angst right there that should absolutely be addressed.

And I appreciated that literally every character that interacted with Bruce that knew about what he'd done yelled at him for it. Even Dick's seeming about-face at the end with "I'm sure you had your reasons" came after two weeks of getting used to the idea AND him trying to actually get Bruce to make good choices for once. I mean, Bruce doesn't, but A for effort, Dick. Thanks for punching him in the face last time, that was cathartic.

I surprisingly really like the fact that it wasn't Zur who did this to Jason. It was Bruce. Horrible, wacked-out, messed up Bruce Wayne who is so desperate to control everything around him and so terrified of losing the people he loves that he constantly overrides them like they're his freaking pets. Bruce is in a BAD place, and I sure hope that there will be tons of fics exploring that even if canon never acknowledges it.

But that's how I deal with comic universes like this. Everyone jokes that "Canon? what canon!" and we all laugh but honestly . . .yeah. Like, seriously. Canon is whatever works for the writer's plot in the moment. They make stuff up and contradict themselves all the time. They're constantly retconning stuff. It doesn't take away from any of the stories I like, I can still read them. And at this point, legitimately, I approach every single comic I come up on as though it's an AU. There is no canon timeline for me, because it's too messy. DC is literally just an AO3 platform that's allowed to make money.

Because the people who originally created these characters are long gone. These guys (gender neutral) writing and drawing the comics now are just fans like we all are. It's all fake. None of it is real. So let's all just have a good time.

I was talking to some friends about this and they pointed out, "It's difficult because people feel like when they're constantly screwing around with things like that why should they even care about the characters?" And they were absolutely right, that's extremely frustrating to deal with. I put a lot of emotional investment into characters, but every writer is going to approach the characters differently and with a universe like DC has, you just have to roll with it. There are no stakes. We all complain about it, but nothing is done to change it because we love these characters and we'll keep coming back for more, and so they keep having to make more content and that means messing with stuff they already have. It's a never ending cycle. These are living legends, mythology that's being written out in real time. Nothing about them are ever going to be cohesive.

Wow this is getting long, sorry about that. Things I loved about the Gotham War conclusion: Jason almost sacrificing himself and being a hero even though he was terrified. A+ content. Gorgeous, you go my boy! Tim telling everyone how to beat up all the rouges (Good job sweetheart, way to be a morally ambiguous little shit like you always are). Even if he claimed to be the second best robin at the end, those are fighting words my man. I also liked Jason's "Go 'save' another one of your sons." jab. That was great. I liked that everyone told Bruce he was wrong, even if it could have been stronger. The rest of the issue was plot stuff that I didn't really care too much about. I really like Bat/Cat, so I didn't mind those scenes too much even though Bruce is still the worst (affectionate AND derogatory).

I didn't really expect anything spectacular from the conclusion, and it really did end kind of like what I expected (nothing's changed except now Jason gets to deal with the Joker when he's sick with Super Anxiety -- which I actually am really excited for). But it wasn't as much fun as some of the previous issues.

That said, I would not mind owning an omnibus of all the gotham war issues, if just to re-read all of my favorite scenes. There were some truly unhinged crap in there, and that's just my cup of tea.

Story telling quality? eh, 6/10

enjoyment had? 9/10

#batman #batman gotham wars #gotham wars #batman/catwoman scorched earth #bruce wayne #selina kyle #jason todd #catwoman #red hood #DC comics #Comic review #i guess #gotham war spoilers

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somebodylovesyougcv · 2 years ago

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(i have time rn so i can craft this post and try to express it in the correct wording) ive been having so so many thoughts about bcs 4.02/4.03 and i need to share them. specifically about chuck’s letter to jimmy

here’s the thing: based off what ive read/listened to, the letter that jimmy reads at the end of 4.03 is the letter from chuck that he left in the will, that howard gave to kim in 4.02. BUT. when i first watched that episode, and every time ive seen it since, i always believed that chuck didn’t actually write the letter— kim wrote it, pretending to be chuck. Im unable to see it any other way

why do i think this? let me explain

- “i remember the day mom brought you home from the hospital. i can honestly say that ive never seen her happier” (this is me paraphrasing that section of the letter) it’s really hard for me to believe that chuck would write this in a letter for Jimmy. from what we can gauge from the show, one of the reasons why Chuck is jealous of Jimmy is because of the unwavering affection Jimmy received from their mother that Chuck did not get. Examples of this: Chuck never admitting to Jimmy that his mother’s last words were jimmys name, “no not Jimmy, never precious Jimmy!” from the chicanery monologue. Because of this, i find it hard to believe that Chuck would write this because it requires him to really drop his pride and like be okay with the relationship between Jimmy and their mother, with no lingering resentment

- why leave jimmy this genuinely very sweet and heartfelt letter, but also only leave him the bare minimum amount of money in the will? if Chuck truly believed in his brother and was proud of him, wouldn’t he have wanted to leave Jimmy money so that he could fund his law practice?

- in 4.02, Kim is indignant, yelling at Howard, calling the letter “one more screw you little brother from the grave”, “Am I really supposed to do this to him?”. so we know that Kim doesn’t trust that this letter will make Jimmy feel better, she thinks that it’s going to make things worse. But she won’t want to lie to jimmy (she doesn’t do that (yet)), so she writes her own. Writes what she thinks Jimmy would want to hear from Chuck.

- which leads into my next point. the letter is almost too perfect. chuck’s words hit on almost every point in his relationship with Jimmy, righting every wrong that has happened in the past. chuck values and appreciates jimmy’s relationship with his mother (no lingering resentment for the corner store scams), he says that he’s proud of Jimmy for the way he’s turned his life around, believes that they are always brothers and he always cares about him. Chuck says that he’s always been in jimmys corner. But of course we know that isn’t true. Chuck really hasn’t been in jimmys corner! he tries his hardest to keep Jimmy from becoming a lawyer and staying one! chuck never seems to think that jimmy can change, slippin jimmy with a law degree is a chimp with a machine gun, him? He’ll never change, he’s always been like this, I should have stopped him when I had the chance, you have to stop him. And of course Chuck could have been too proud and afraid of vulnerability when he was alive to be truly honest with Jimmy, which is why this letter exists. But I find that hard to believe. the letter seems too perfect. it seems like kim thinks of everything she thinks Jimmy would want to hear from chuck, she thinks this will save him. And of course it doesn’t

which brings me to my interpretation of Kim’s reaction: yes, she’s crying because she’s realizing that there’s something irrevocably broken within Jimmy, he will never be the same after chuck’s death. He’s reading this letter with the same tone that one would read the morning newspaper- it’s casual, it’s meaningless. So what that this is a letter from my dead brother?

but I also think Kim is crying because she wrote this letter, and she thought that it would be enough. That it would elicit some sort of grateful happy bittersweet cathartic response within Jimmy. but it doesn’t. It doesn’t work. She has no cards left to play. What else can she do for him now? Can she save him? she’s afraid that she can’t. he’s too far gone

obviously this is just my interpretation, but no matter how many times i revisit that scene, i will never be able to change my mind that the letter wasn’t actually written by chuck. and maybe someone has already thought this same thought and this is nothing new. awkward. so if you have let me know. bc i think about this alllll the time

#olivia’s corner #no way this took me like 25 mins to write where did the time go. Where.#but yeah i think i captured it #bcs #better call saul #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #kim wexler #chuck mcgill

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nerves-nebula · 2 years ago

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Wow yeah you sound autistic to me. Like, all that missing there is ✨the hell that is sensory issues ✨ (but I think u mentioned that PRIOR?)

,,,, on that topic I'm truama dumping in ur inbox again cuz it's cathartic.

I will never forget when my mom started trying to get me diagnosed and I had to hear my dad yell and scream and throw tantrums like a literal toddler that "MY KID IS NOT A FUCKING RETARD!!!" Definitely did great things for my selfesteem/sarcastic <currently diagnosed autistic and ADHD and rumoured bpd based off medication interactions. And maybe DID but I'm ignoring this bitchs in my head <3

I DO HAVE A LOTTA SENSORY ISSUES HAHA. and emotional shutdowns! its always hard to tell which is a PTSD thing and which is a neurodivergence thing as far as me being jumpy/twitchy around loud noises goes, but i don't think PTSD makes the sound of brooms sweeping concrete make me wanna collapse into a ball.

if I leave my house without earbuds I'll fucking explode and die. the sounds there are BAD and I'll get BORED and antsy and twitchy without my own controlled noises.

I know i have hyperfixations cause I've had a few really BAD ones that ended up hurting me. Like, senior year of high school I was so obsessed with the joker and batman that I hurt my hands scrolling comics/tumblr for art about them for HOURS. and i could NOT STOP. and i was supposed to be making PAINTINGS for COLLEGE APPLICATIONS so my hands really shouldn't have been getting FUCKEd at that time.

im not sure if im in a hyperfixation about the turtles rn or like, a healthy interest. I think it's petered out to a healthy interest but i am almost constantly thinking about them hah. maybe ive just gotten better at controlling myself so i dont hurt myself while fixating tho.

AS for your trauma: THAT sUCKS ASS. me and my siblings have ruminated and joked about being autistic for years, but our parents would NEVER get us tested. My mom basically said my grades were too good so why would i need to get tested for adhd/autism. and my dad is Nigerian so good luck trying to talk to him about mental health stuff !!

i tried to bring up my obvious sensory and emotional issues to my mom and she was like "you're not autistic you're just sensitive" and left me standing there like "but.. being sensitive the ways i am are literally perfectly in line with autism.."

sidenote: i'm so much happier now that I let myself stim whenever i feel like it. i stim sooo much these days and it's FANTASTIC, I never knew how much I was hurting myself by not letting myself do it.

tell the bitches in ur head that ur ignoring i said hi :D !

#nnstuff #ask #asks are sweethearts #r slur tw #child abuse tw

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nosnet · 3 days ago

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Dead and Dead Again: Fyra (4) - Adjustments

by J. D. Dennis

Time Period: Winston-Salem/Greensboro, 2025

Perspective: Vyxen/Donnie

Rating: PG-13

Content Warnings: Alcohol, big cathartic yelling match, throwing items, depression

Word Count: 16,049

Comments: Moving on to the only meeting I think wasn’t anticipated, but was part of the OG Dead and Dead Again I wrote before we changed everything – Damon Wellington. This was cathartic, not only because there was stuff I wish got said, but also because Damon was always one of those PCs where the line between the character and the player was really blurry. The incident in question, the player actually got just as mad as the PC that Vince would want to leave the room instead of being yelled at. Like, it was a whole thing. So this was some kind of method for taking that mess of a character and quantifying him into something we could beat up and rebuild. We’re doing a lot of that lately. It’s nice.

“Look, I don’t know how he changed it on Google Maps, but it definitely wasn’t Wellington Salem when I left.”

They had been in Greensboro for four days, and an inevitable meeting loomed over them the entire time. They were prepared to come back into the city and meet with their old paramours, and they were ready to see a few old friends as well – but there was one they were kind of dreading, because honestly, they had no idea if friend was really the word for them anymore, and there was always a small amount of danger in overestimating the closeness of someone’s vampiric acquaintances. Flidais was an easy reunion, even if the bulk of their new relationship hadn’t yet been undertaken; they’d gotten her number, and she was receptive, and that was about what they were expecting. Kana was fine, because it was, beyond all things, Kana, and she was predictable as much as she was still so young wielding so much responsibility. Vyx knew she was far too close with Vince to be able to really push them away, as she’d feel bad thinking she made Vyx feel bad, and would eventually find herself friends with Vyx almost like compensation for the initial slight. And Al, well… Al needed his space, but they knew he’d come around, too, once he got the idea through his thick skull that Vyx was never meant to be a replacement for Vince, but an addition. He just had to come to that conclusion on his own, because like a cat, he preferred thinking something was actually his idea all along.

But there was another Kindred they knew they’d need to see, eventually, and they weren’t exactly sure where anyone stood with him.

Damon Wellington had, at least, been part of the end of the world, and Vyx figured that bought them some kind of metaphorical ticket into his inner circle. But even during the end of the world, he wasn’t exactly the most pleasant person to be around. Vyx had watched, from the outside, as Damon belittled his friends, dismissed possible allies due to his own clan’s politics – fuck everyone else’s – antagonized the ones they did manage to keep, [one more], and bristled at any and all instances where the world wasn’t simply black and white, one or the other. He wasn’t a bad person – Vyx recalled that he tried, at least; Damon had let one of their party members, who Vyx understood to be his current boyfriend, punch him in the face because a Malkavian told him he was a tree and he wanted to test it. Vyx didn’t quite get why – clearly, the message left was about how he would grow branches as power, but that was definitely part of the problem. Interpreting anything other than the most stringent of rules with easy, identifiable lines was not only something that didn’t come naturally to him, he rejected the idea outright.

More to the point, he definitely treated Vince like shit, and when Vyx thought about that – and about a specific memory, one moment in time they witnessed from above, an argument about why Vince hadn’t mentioned a suspicion, based on nothing but a hunch and Malkavian gut feelings, which were not often considered truthful, that his at the time husband, Al, would betray them at some undetermined point in time – they felt like their guts were filled with hot stones, tumbling around over each other. See, they had the memory from their own perspective, but they also had the memory from Vince’s; his emotions were fuzzy – they could feel veils of emotion, but nothing acute, likely due to those things being tied explicitly to Vince and distant from them – but the words and perspective were clear as day. They knew everything everyone had said; they could see Kana’s absolute fury – she hated Al – and Damon’s pissy vitriol and the way the rest of the party hung back awkwardly while Vince got torn a new asshole for not turning his husband in to what amounted to the Vampire Cops. They had every moment, crystal clear, from Vince’s perspective.

And those moments weren’t the same as the thing Vyx had recalled happening.

Now, the thing was, Vyx probably would have waved off the whole situation as some weird quirk of memory and death and time and coming back as someone who didn’t exist; it wasn’t like they had a rulebook they were playing by, after all. But they knew Damon and Kana had both been in there, giving them that context explicitly, and the change was just light enough to almost be unnoticeable. A couple of words were different in one place, a tone softened in another – but they all served the same purpose: to make Damon look just a little bit less like a toddler having a tantrum that Vince had kept secrets from him and more like a concerned friend just trying to make sure that the world wasn’t going to end due to something stupid like love or trust. If Vyx hadn’t had the benefit of having both memories at the tips of their metaphorical fingers to compare between, they probably wouldn’t have noticed, either. Was it proof that he did anything? No, but the signs were all pointing to the same door anyway, and Vyx was nervous about opening it to see if the prize really was inside. Regardless, they had noticed, and it hung heavy in their stomach as they rolled up to Damon’s haven, because they knew he was going to pretend like he’d done absolutely nothing at all for as long as he could get away with it. Damon was, fundamentally, a coward.

Damon’s haven was in a city that had, at one point, been called Winston-Salem, ostensibly named after Damon’s late sire and previous resident Tremere blowhard, Bernard Winston. Winston had been a particularly impalpable specimen, to the point where the reception to his death was apathy and disinterest. However, having been killed – and surprisingly, not by Damon – it left the top of the chantry in the area open, and after the war, Damon moved right in. Apparently, he hadn’t wasted any time, either, as not only did the Maps app Vyx used read Wellington-Salem, the tower they lingered in front of read the same in large, glowing letters splattered across the top. It felt like getting an unfixed, male dog in a new house, with a desperate need to mark everything they could as theirs. At least Damon’s ego was satiated with lights and names instead of piss.

It was kind of funny, though. He was the Regent of the area, now named after him, and he wasn’t even a Tremere anymore.

“Who are we meeting?” Donnie asked, staring up at the tower from the bike; they’d found street parking, and since it was clearly after six, it was free, which Vyx hadn’t actually expected outside a Kindred building. It felt like something the city had pushed back on, at any rate. The way Donnie asked said he had some kind of idea of who they were meeting, considering the giant, ostentatious tower, the name in big lights, or the way it reeked of presumed power on display to hide real flaws, but he wanted Vyx to say it, just in case he was wrong.

“His name’s Damon Wellington. Professional snob, probably-just-a-Tremere – don’t ask – and someone who Vince used to be… kind of friends with? It’s… weird.” They sighed, straddling the bike with no intent to actually dismount, looking instead back at the steady traffic they’d avoided. They didn’t have to meet Damon; sure, he’d be pissed he wasn’t on the short list for knowing shenanigans were happening, and he wouldn’t quite understand why the nature of their relationship had changed, but that didn’t have to be their problem, necessarily. It would be Vince’s, though, and Vyx wasn’t about to leave Damon’s hanging anger for a dead guy to pick back up whenever he decided to rise again. And besides, there were things about Damon that were honestly likeable – he was tenacious, he was powerful, and he had a sense of loyalty that was just often overstepped by other emotions. There was something in there worth liking, under the rest of the bullshit.

“Why are we meeting him?” Donnie asked, a follow up he clearly didn’t expect to need to ask, but the answers hadn’t been forthcoming and he was concerned. Vyx chuckled, finally hopping off the bike, latching their helmet to a locked strap at the back so no one would run off with it. “Besides the fact that he knew Vince, I mean.”

“He’s a technomancer with the kind of paranoia you’d expect out of someone who smoked way too much crack and I think if he found out through the grapevine – which he will, as far as the memories state the man was like the first inklings of an iPad baby in a Millennial’s body – that Vince technically came back as someone else, he’d think it was some way to kill him or something. Like a betrayal.” They paused, staring up at the tower, the mismatched words in their head from two memories of the same moment trying to play all at once. If they weren’t used to hearing the Network all the time, it probably would have driven them mad. “He wasn’t ever good with feeling betrayed, and if I’m going to get the head of the only Chantry in like, two hour’s drive on my side of things, whatever side that is, I’m not doing it by hiding.” They shrugged, waiting as Donnie hopped off the bike, locking his own helmet up and locking the bike down as well. “It’s not worth hedging it, regardless; his people probably already know we’re here and we’re going to get a talking to about skulking around if we don’t just bite the bullet.”

“Does he really say skulking around?” Donnie asked, following obediently as Vyx headed for the door. Their reasoning was sound, but he didn’t know Damon from the devil – which was far too apt, anyway – and he hadn’t ever met anyone who seriously used phrasing like that. Vyx had to hide a cackle behind their sleeve before the staff noticed as they headed inside; they had their jacket on, luckily, and it muffled their noise before they were noticed. Inside, the tower was just as garish as expected, a decorative smattering of silvers and golds that should have made the place look fancy, except it was also devoid of anything fun so instead it just looked boring as well as shiny. Donnie briefly felt under-dressed – he only had a sweater and jeans, with boots that had done enough stomping to look almost ratty – but a quick look at Vyx, wearing nothing but an overly-large t-shirt that actually doubled as a dress, thigh-high stockings, boots, and their normal hat, he quickly realized he was the better dressed of the two. At least he had pants.

“He’s British.” Vyx replied, as though that were a suitable explanation. It only sort of was, but Donnie figured that was good enough. He didn’t really need to know why. “Oh, you’ll like his boyfriend. I think. I mean, they were dating last I checked, but the boyfriend – his name’s Sven, big Gangrel Viking guy, could snap me in half with a hug – had gotten a little torpored in London and I don’t remember when he woke back up.” They shrugged, heading, with the confidence of a king, to the front counter. A young man with a sharp face and a severe frown and a suit that was pressed enough to be a blade watched them as they put their arms on the top counter. It was just a little short. “Party of two here to see Damon.”

“This isn’t a restaurant.” The man was British and as snobby as Damon had been described, but that only told Donnie that Damon must be worse if this was his receptionist. “He’s in a meeting.”

“He’s always in a meeting.” Vyx groaned, rolling their eyes. “Look, I know what floor he’s on, I’ve been here before. Tee up that elevator with your fancy wiggle fingers and we’ll catch him when he’s out.” They paused, like they expected that to do something, but the receptionist didn’t even lift an eyebrow. Honestly, Donnie was a little impressed at how brazenly unflappable the man was. Even Ray looked vibrant as compared. Vyx huffed, pursing their lips a little like they were struggling to think of something else to say. “Look, if I can prove I know Damon super personally, would you just let us go up? I can’t have scheduled a meeting because I’ve been super dead and he’ll probably be pissed if I don’t get to see him for a whole ass calendar year just ‘cause you didn’t believe me.”

“I don’t know what you believe you might know about Regent Wellington that wouldn’t be common knowledge, but I’ll bite. Prove to me you know him personally, and I’ll let you both go upstairs, though I doubt that will be the case.” The Tremere in front of them sneered, clearly anticipating sending them away and finding some terrible joy in the idea of it. Donnie bristled, not liking the man’s tone and considering giving him a decent reason before Vyx could speak – the reason being Donnie’s knuckles and the Tremere’s teeth disagreeing with their placement – but the way Vyx all but climbed onto the counter so they could be closer, the way their smile said danger, had him staying his hand. They seemed to have it covered.

“I know who his sire is, and I know it isn’t Bernard Winston. Not anymore.” Vyx’s voice was low, quiet, dangerous, the information as potent as a knife covered in poison, and Donnie watched the Tremere behind the counter stiffen like he’d just been poked in places he didn’t think people could reach. But Vyx wasn’t done, their discomfort at the meeting working itself out in their words, like if they just got a little mad at this one guy, they wouldn’t lose it on Damon later. “Want me to call him? I probably can. He loves drama and boy, announcing to the entire Chantry what Damon chose to do, who he chose to re---“

“That’s enough.” The Tremere cut them off, his words clipped and fractured like he was desperate to keep them quiet and not say anything else out loud. He was terrified, and Vyx sneered back at him, like they’d proven their point. They had, in a way – they knew the one secret that the receptionist wouldn’t expect – that Damon Wellington, notable Tremere Regent, was actually a Baalii. The receptionist glowered, and Vyx watched his hands type something – probably an alert that a stranger who knew Damon’s terrible little secret was on the way – before he resettled, forcing himself to sit up straight and look unbothered. “I’ll call the elevator, but you must never repeat that again.”

“Repeat what, hoss? That Damon’s a sucker for drama like everyone else he knows? Yeah, that’s no secret.” They brushed off the whole thing with a kind of flippant tone that said they were doing him a favor by not acknowledging what was said, and after a moment of silent glaring, the Tremere snapped his fingers and one of the elevators dinged. Vyx gave the man a cheery, toothy grin, before quickly taking Donnie by the hand and all but dragging him to the elevator. He didn’t resist, too many questions rumbling around in his brain, anyway.

The doors closed, and they were alone, the elevator indicating they were heading to the top floor. They had a minute. “Who is he?” Donnie finally asked, trying to put the questions he had in his head into something succinct. He knew very little – something about being re-embraced, even though Vyx never actually said the word – they alluded to it fairly heavily, indicating some kind of second sire, but that wasn’t—he wasn’t entirely sure that was a thing one could do. Normally, embracing was fairly permanent. The elevator dinged up another floor, and Donnie, realizing his time with the question was short and the answer was likely much longer than the ride, reached out, smacking the emergency stop button fairly hard. The elevator ground to a halt. “I can’t go into this meeting blind. Especially if this isn’t as friendly as you want it to be.”

“Well, I know he doesn’t bug the elevators, so I guess this can be here.” Vyx shrugged, reaching into Donnie’s jacket pocket and grabbing a cigarette and his zippo; they had no pockets to have stored them anyway. They took a moment to light up, handing the lighter back and letting the exhale fill the elevator. Thank god they didn’t have to breathe. “Damon’s a Baalii, but it’s probably safer if you didn’t hear that and especially not from me.”

“You mentioned Baalii, before.” Donnie said, remembering the brief conversation about the end of the world, the first time they’d met. Vyx had gone through a more thorough play by play since then – they’d had a long train ride, after all – but they hadn’t mentioned any further details about the clan then, either. Just there was one, during the end, that was against their foe as much as they were, even if he himself also wanted the world to end. “I imagine being a Baalii is… bad.” He added, and he knew that much from the fact that Vyx didn’t want to talk about it. But he was green, politically speaking, so this was all new content. Vyx chuckled.

“Baalii are like, the one clan you can safely bet are universally disliked.” They shrugged, leaning back against the side of the elevator. They could hear sound, on the other side of the door, someone trying to figure out why the thing had stopped. The fact that they couldn’t hear more than muffled phrases said no one would hear them inside, either. “They worship demons and they have a fucked up way of siring people and in general, their unlife goal is to end the world. We happened to have met one, during the End Days, that wanted to end the world, just… not in the way Pip wanted to. So Damon and another unnamed individual I consider enough of a friend to not out right now decided it was worth it to go through the process. Neither of them wanted to necessarily be Baalii or end the world, they just figured… when you’re fighting a guy who’s whole ass plan is to raise Lilith from the dead and kill her, you don’t wanna shirk bringing the nuke.”

“And now we’re going to meet this guy again?” Donnie asked, concerned. Vyx surrounded themselves with people who were, at best, highly dangerous. He watched as they held up a finger – the conversation on the other side was growing more agitated, like they were about to start actually working on getting the doors open – so they smacked the button and the elevator was off. Three more floors passed, and then they hit the button a second time and for a second time, it ground to a halt.

“Yeah. Vince would want to.” Vyx shrugged, tapping the cigarette ash out into the little space where the door opened; it would likely fall into the shaft when they finally exited. Donnie balked at their casual attitude, and Vyx finally looked at him, the shock on his face, and registered that what seemed like a Tuesday for them was something dramatic and wild for him. “What? He’s kind of a dick, I’ll say that much, but we were in the trenches together, for what it’s worth. It feels unfair to set that kind of thing aside over something as stupid as---“

“As stupid as being a demon worshipping vampire who wants to end the world?” Donnie asked, filling in the back half of the sentence, and that actually got Vyx to hesitate, because he wasn’t… wrong. Even if they knew Damon had no intent to end the world or worship demons; he’d probably prefer the demons worshipped him, honestly. “Look, Vyx, I get you have memories of the guy, but right now I’m being told we’re walking into the office of probably one of the most hated people in this city, and you’re not entirely confident that he’ll even want to see you. You’re used to playing games with dangerous people, but I’m not, so I need something. How do I know he’s not going to try and do something to us now that you’ve proven you’re a liability who knows his secrets? How do we know that Vince dying wasn’t the best thing that happened to him?”

“He’s a coward.” Vyx said, simply, stubbing the cigarette out on the side wall and leaving a smudge of ash behind. They tucked the unused end behind their ear. “That’s how I know. He’s a coward who’s too used to using people he befriends as a safety net when he makes bad choices, and Vince was probably the only person he could wrong repeatedly and not worry about whether or not the man would hate him after. I don’t know why, but Vince was never good at hating people.” They shrugged, pausing a second and staring at their shoes, like they were debating adding a specific statement. They shifted. “I think, if you really want to look at it, it’s like… would you forgive Oppenheimer if you were on the same side of the table and you knew what was at stake?” They asked, softly – and Donnie understood that much, of course, even if the question was a hard one - and then that other statement came back and they exhaled because they definitely had to say it. “Also, when he put the context back in this body, for Vince, he… I think he changed things. Made himself look better.” They paused, biting their lip like they still weren’t sure how to feel about it. “I can’t really… prove it until I talk to him about it, but I don’t think he would have tried to make Vince’s memories like him more if he didn’t want Vince around.” They shrugged, again, hitting the button and letting the elevator ascend. “If Vince was really better off dead, he wouldn’t have helped at all. Trust me, if I thought Damon were capable of actually doing anything, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’ll trust you. I won’t trust him.” Donnie replied, the elevator moving fast now that they weren’t constantly stopping it. Vyx chuckled, stepping out of the elevator as it reached the top floor, hardly letting the doors split before they were out and walking on the carpeted hallway. Upstairs, it was as grand as it was downstairs, though more tastefully done, with more wood and less gold. There weren’t many doors, and one was very clearly an office.

“No need, he’s used to it. Oh, but you can trust his boyfriend. Sven loved Vince. Man’s a big softie, honestly, but he’s got a big axe and he wouldn’t let Damon do anything without really good reason.” They chuckled, settling in on the seat across from the door – clearly a space to wait for those that needed to – pulling the cigarette back from their ear. They reached out, making the universal grabby hand signal at Donnie, who supplied the lighter as requested. “Not loved as in they were dating or nothing; I don’t think Sven was Vince’s type and I don’t think he’s mine. He was just really attached to all of his friends.”

“Also, please give your Seneschal my… warmest regards.” The lilting voice that found its way through the door was British, egotistical, and trying to be kind through gritted teeth. It was followed by a sharp laugh, something almost biting, bitter like dark coffee on a darker night.

“Ah, yes. There’s a reason I included a transcription. They like to fuck with people some, see who bends and who can ignore it. Most people are used to it by this point.” The laugh came from the second voice, more feminine, more conniving. The first voice chuckled, awkwardly, like he was done dealing with whatever bullshit the other had thrust on him, but he couldn’t exactly tell her no.

“Ah, okay. I thought the transcription was so you could control the narrative.” It was a weird phrase said in a light tone, but both parties chuckled a little at the words as the door opened. Vyx and Donnie were faced, briefly, with a pair of Kindred – one, a pale man in a dark, well fitted suit, with dark hair, sharp glasses, and a sharper stair; the other, a young woman who was somehow paler, with dark, gothy hair, the back held up by a clip and straight across bangs. They were both laughing as they exited the room, but the man paused, clearly registering Vyx and Donnie as likely the people he’d been texted about. “We’re on for dinner in three weeks, then?”

“Your people can text my people.” The woman passed, pausing to give Vyx a once over, because the other was looking at her like they could learn so many things by the words on her shirt, which would have been weird as her shirt had no words at all. To Donnie, she was average height, in a shawl, a crop top, and skinny pants with thick boots and dark lipstick and dark nails. To Vyx, it was like they were staring at a goddess, or, at least, someone who looked kind of like one. Her face wasn’t much different, but she bore a circlet that was somewhere between spider webs and constellations, a daughter of the night in more ways than one. She wore a dress that seemed to be made of the fabric of space, but it didn’t quite fit her, too long in the hem or the sleeves, loose in the shoulders. But what Vyx couldn’t stop staring at were her wings – paper thin things made of wax. Of course, the other man also didn’t look like a average white dude in a suit, either, but they were used to seeing a bundle of energy where a form would be; he was normal, but she was interesting. The woman considered Vyx, and Vyx considered her for a long moment. “I like the outfit.” She said, offhandedly, fishing out a business card and passing it along. “If you ever wanted to come join us.”

“Maybe. I’d be more worried if you weren’t Kindred, but I don’t think you’ll get too close to the sun if you only go out at night, so we can figure something out.” Vyx replied, and of course, they got what they always got – a profound, confused silence that didn’t remotely have context for what they said. They sighed. “No worries, Apate, we’ll figure it out.” They waved her off, and the woman cast Damon a look that said she knew Malkavians but this was a new one, before she headed for the elevator. Vyx turned, finally looking back at what Donnie could only have assumed was Damon Wellington himself, who was staring at them like they were a strange new kind of bug he wasn’t entirely sure he could pick up and let outside. “Ey, D-man, long time, huh?”

“Can I help you?” Damon asked, looking between Vyx – clearly, he could tell they were a Malkavian, and if Donnie were any good with expressions, clearly, he wasn’t jazzed about that – and Donnie, like he wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to be doing. It definitely wasn’t Girl Scout Season, at least. “[Nerd] said you’d threatened your way up here. I honestly don’t believe him, considering, but you should understand who you’re dealing with before you make idle threats.” There was something in his tone that was serious, trying to be scary and intimidating, and something about it just fell… flat. Like he knew he had the ability, and the muscle, but he hadn’t really been trained to start swinging without provocation, and Donnie honestly felt a little bad for the man. Vyx didn’t, however, and actually laughed.

“My god, Damon, we leave you alone for five years and you can’t even make a decent threat! Damn!” They cackled. Donnie watched the other man bristle, his hackles going up like he was a Ghibli character with hair standing on end, and he honestly looked like he was going to try and prove something about the whole situation, raising a hand like a threat, until a booming voice from down the hall stopped him dead.

“I know that smell!” Whomever the voice belonged to, Donnie could tell they were big, and he was proven right as probably one of the biggest people he’d met – besides Ray – all but flung himself into the hall. The man was tall, tall enough to have to duck through the doors, and built like a barrel, solid all the way through, with braided, golden hair and a beard of magnificent proportions. If the braids hadn’t given Viking away, the outfit would have, as he still wore a leather tunic and tall boots and a little axe on his belt. Vyx turned, and the pair met eyes, before the other man was all but thundering down the hallway. Donnie stiffened, and almost reacted, as the big man reached out, but he only pulled Vyx into a hug that Donnie was sure made them squeak like a toy, and Donnie was able to relax, just a little. It was hard, with a demon worshipping Kindred standing five feet from him looking incredibly confused and maybe a bit nervous, but Vyx had leaned heavily in to the hug, not away, and he trusted that. “Vince!” The big man intoned, putting Vyx on the floor, finally. They laughed, awkwardly, but Donnie was the one that butt in.

“It’s Vyx, actually.” He corrected. He didn’t know why, but the impulse hit him and then he couldn’t stop himself; he was honestly just tired of hearing Vyx go through the corrections, over and over again, as he could tell they were getting more worn out each time. It was hard enough to have to live in the shadow of a man they’d already described as everyone’s favorite, harder still, he figured, to have to tell people you weren’t that good every time. Vyx caught his eye, for just a moment, and from the way they smiled at him, he could tell they very much appreciated the fill in. It was nice, honestly, feeling loved enough to have had him try.

“Yeah, it’s a long story.” Vyx shrugged, giving the big guy a smile, trying to keep their posture easy even if Donnie was right and it was hard to tell it again and again. It just reinforced this strange idea that they weren’t simply enough, and that once people found out they weren’t Vince, no one wanted to see them. “Damon kinda knows it, right? Molly went fishing for once Vincent Renato and caught herself this old boot instead. Except I was also attached to the fish. And also am, technically, a fish like he was. Maybe even the same fish. It’s… really weird.” They chuckled, turning back to the big guy. “Glad to know there’s some things that don’t change, though, Sven. Good to see you walking; think Vince kicked it before you woke back up, so he hadn’t seen you since… London?”

“Let’s bring this conversation into my office, shall we?” Damon said, trying to usher what Donnie realized was the boisterous boyfriend Vyx had mentioned, Sven, the Gangrel, along with everyone else, into his office. Something about this whole thing made him nervous, or at least, made him want to contain the situation – Vyx couldn’t tell if he knew Vyx knew what he’d done, or if it was just latent paranoia from their time being hunted like dogs. They followed, regardless, Donnie trailing them into the room, hands in his pockets and posture stiff like he still wasn’t entirely sure about the whole thing. Once inside, with the doors shut, Damon turned, finally giving Vyx a once over that said he was actually trying to see if they were, deep down, really Vince. He sighed. “Molly called me shortly after your exit and explained the situation, but… it felt too much like a farce to really believe; Vince, having had a mysterious twin that so happened to be possessing him instead? It sounds like the plot of a terrible romance novel.”

“You didn’t believe Malk shit when it was about you, dingdong, of course you didn’t believe it. You never have. But just because you don’t believe it doesn’t mean it’s not a real thing that happened.” Vyx didn’t waste time, settling on one of several small sofas that lined Damon’s office. There were mostly bookshelves, with some random seating in little sections, like reading nooks, and a big desk in front of a large, ornate window. The city skyline glittered in the distance like a sea of lights beyond their reach. They were really high up. “But it is real. Vince is in here, but I’m not him, I’m Vyxen Riveria. And since he’s knocked out, I’m making the rounds, giving everyone the low down, taking hugs as payment - thank you, Sven, appreciate you’re good for it up front – and just… I don’t know, I guess I’m putting the pieces back together, but it’s the life of a man I’ve only ever kinda seen from a distance. It’s not been easy, thank you for asking.” They added, a little bitterness to their tone that said maybe they would have loved if someone asked them if they were okay like, ever. Damon scoffed, the concept of asking foreign to him.

“And your… friend?” Damon asked, quickly eyeing Donnie like he wasn’t sure how the other fit into the picture. Like Donnie was the body double they needed to be worried about. “I thought you’d return with Al in tow, if anyone.”

“Al is… currently in the trenches, so to speak, so he won’t be joining us until he decides it’s better to forgive than hold onto being a dick. He didn’t take not getting Vince back really well, so I’ve been letting him… cool off.” Vyx sighed, pulling the half-finished cigarette from their ear. Donnie tossed them the lighter before he was even asked, having seen them move and anticipated the need; Damon’s face said smoking in his office was not a thing he allowed, but either Vyx didn’t see the expression, or did and didn’t care, lighting up anyway. “This is Donnie. He’s my boyfriend and also my currently assigned Brujah de jour.” They grinned, tossing the lighter back over like it was nothing at all, exhaling the smoke, much to Damon’s displeasure. Seeing them against each other, Donnie could see how the act of bothering each other until they were blue in the face could be seen as something like friendship, but he wasn’t sure he was buying what was being sold. There was animosity there, something real, just under the surface, but he couldn’t tell from whom. “Donnie’s cool. He doesn’t fuck off when things get tough.”

“A man after my own heart!” Sven’s voice was several decibels above everything else in the room, and that seemed like his bottom volume. He reached out, clapping Donnie on the back hard – it would have toppled a lesser man, but Donnie was not a lesser man, and the fact that he didn’t flinch brought a grin to Sven’s face. It was like he was finally finding someone who wasn’t made of toothpicks and twine and he was delighted. Donnie couldn’t help but grin in return; he didn’t expect to find people like Ray’s crew that far south, and Vyx’s voice rang in his head that he did, in fact, like Sven. “This is cause for celebration! A new friend, reuniting old friends, and the rebirth of someone new from someone old! We should get drinks!”

“Svenjamen,” Damon hissed, using a name that was definitely not Sven’s name but definitely the closest he could come to not feeling like he was shortening it, “Do you not think this is a little odd? Normally, when Molly brings people back from the dead, she brings back the actual person in question, not someone else.”

“D-dog, the Norse think the world occasionally ends and everyone’s reborn as a whole new ass thing; I’m like… Biblical for him. Norsical?” They paused.

“Poetic.” Sven corrected, proud of himself and also of them – he liked the way they worked thoughts, because they were easy enough to follow. For the moment. Better than some Malkavians he’d met. “You’re thinking of the Poetic Edda.”

“Yeah, that.” Vyx chuckled, crossing their legs under them on the sofa and leaning forward. “I do like the idea of drinks, though. Like… look, Damon, to be honest, I’m not really sure why I’m here. It’s not like I wanted anything.” They said, and they worked around the words and Damon made a strange face, but Donnie understood – Vyx was a fairly adept talker, but the blood made lying hard, and it was clear on their face that while they hadn’t said anything untrue, they also weren’t being entirely forthcoming. They had a reason for being there, but it wasn’t the reason they had decided to visit, because it wasn’t a big enough deal to warrant a visit on its own and they had no other reason to have seen him besides simply wanting his companionship. It was a weird thing to want, as far as Donnie was concerned, but he didn’t judge. “But like… you and Vince never got to hang out as just like, friends. That kinda sucks, right? And I miss most of y’all. We met so many cool people and we didn’t get to just like, hang out with any of them.”

“Most?” Damon asked, but there was something softening in his face; he was not a man used to being missed, nor used to being invited for a night out just for the sake of the night out. There was something like fear, maybe, rumbling underneath his expression, like he was scared he was the one they didn’t miss, or like he was scared of what they wouldn’t say. Or just that he was scared; it was a weird thing to witness, but Vyx understood entirely too well why. Damon was not-a-Tremere pretending to be one, and historically, the Tremere were not kind people to those that tried to hurt them. If Damon’s existence was discovered, he’d be put to death, so he had to live with a small undercurrent of fear at all times. Plus, the Chantry’s mere existence was one based on fear to structure its power, so he’d been set up from the start for something messy. And that meant he sort of feared everything he didn’t understand. It was safer that way.

“I mean, I don’t really miss Illya.” Vyx cackled, and the name gave Damon an expression that could only be described as a sudden and intense desire to throw himself bodily from the window. Even Sven made a small face at the name. “Who does, right? Man’s a creep. Uh, I don’t miss Ammon, he was a weird one. Oh, I did pop in to the London Chantry once! I don’t miss them, either – they’re just as up their own ass as they were during the war, and this time I didn’t have anything to offer for them to like me. Winston really picked one, huh?” Vyx asked, referencing the other Winston they’d met – Elnora Winston, the ex-wife of the late Bernard. It was no wonder they were divorced – both were sharp enough to make general socialization difficult, and neither had anything else likeable to excuse it. “But I miss you. I missed Flidais. I miss Al. I miss Malvern and Dan and Haytham and Kana and Nakamura and even Luis. And hell, I kinda miss Konrad. We made a lot of good friends, y’know? Well, you and Vince made friends; I was just also sort of there. It’s complicated.”

“You didn’t… tell the Chantry anything, did you?” Damon asked, watching. Donnie had seen the way he’d reacted to the name Illya – he’d gone stiff, and then he’d looked at Donnie, but not directly; it was discreet, like he was looking to see if Donnie seemed surprised that they’d name dropped Illya directly but he didn’t want Donnie to see him looking. Of course, Vyx had mentioned the name once or twice in the telling, but not with any seriousness or reverence. Donnie was just an unknown, like Vyx was an unknown, just differently.

“Damon, they hardly knew who I was. The fact that I managed to sweet talk my way into the chantry in the first place had a bunch of them on edge and I was summarily booted right back out.” The shrugged. “The only person who knows your little secret that didn’t know already is Donnie, and that’s cause otherwise I think he was gonna slug you across the face.” They shrugged, again, but the scathing look Damon shot Donnie had them laughing, and Donnie couldn’t make himself feel scared if he had wanted to. Damon was built like a set of twigs, and while he did magic well, he’d only get the one shot- and they both knew the consequences if that wasn’t a kill shot the first time. “But he’s cool. He learned what Baalii are in the elevator.”

“I don’t judge.” Donnie added, like he had to defend himself. He could tell Vyx was right, that the acceptance of Baalii overall was poor, but he didn’t know enough to really call it for himself. Sven nodded along to the statement, appreciating the sentiment; Damon looked somewhere between upset that they were so cavalier with his secrets and relieved that they’d told maybe the one person it was safe to tell. Or, at least, safe as far as Damon could tell; the future was still to be determined. It was likely he’d never be entirely in the clear, but safe for the moment was better than nothing.

“See, he doesn’t judge.” Vyx added, finishing their cigarette and putting it out on the bottom of their boot. “Now, Sven had the best idea ever about five minutes ago and considering this feels like it’s rocketing towards some kind of heart to heart, I’d rather do that over a big ol’ mug of booze, so. Drinks?”

Damon sighed, pulling his phone out. He was, really, a coward, Donnie realized, and it wasn’t just the big things that were acceptable for cowardice, but the small things, too. He didn’t have the spine to say no to drinks, even though he seemed like he didn’t really want to. Or, he didn’t have the courage to seem like he wanted this, too wrapped up in hiding himself behind a persona of uncaring and unchallengeable to keep himself from getting hurt by wanting things. The wall he built might have been of paper, but he’d built it himself, sheet by sheet. “If we must… Vyxen, was it?” Damon paused, confirming the non-shortened version of their name like he was allergic to using the nickname, “If we must get drinks, I should be able to secure us a spot at---“

“Damon, honey, sweetheart, buddy,” Vyx pushed themselves up to stand, putting both hands on Damon’s desk and getting into his personal space so quickly that the other didn’t know how to react but to recoil from their presence, “You don’t gotta do shit. I own a bar. Like, I know you like flaunting your money and that’s cool and all but why pay for some place that would make me wear a proper skirt when you can just mosey on down to Geometry and I can provide you the best and coolest drinks for freesies?”

“Alphonse owns Geometry.” Damon tried to offer the correction, to make the world fit what he understood, but clearly, he didn’t believe it anymore, as he put his phone back in his pocket. Vyx grinned, noticing the movement and pulling back from the desk, like this would be a discussion on the way out. Like they knew they’d already convinced him.

“Al owned it. With Vince. And then Vince died and I came back and since Al didn’t get the boytoy he wanted back in his house he instead got a whole side of depression so Molly, being proactive, bought his part of it out and then signed it all over to me. I think technically Vince is still on the paperwork and she was signing it over to Vince but also me at the same time but I don’t honestly care. What I care about is that the drinks are paid for.” Vyx lifted their hands up, like they’d offered a perfect solution and dared anyone to challenge them on it. “So, what’d’ya say, Oz the Powerful? Free is a beautiful price to get drunk on.”

Damon hesitated, looking between the faces in front of him. Vyx had offered a good solution, and looked like they would probably pout if it was rejected without due reason; Sven had what Damon would only describe as puppy dog eyes, and honestly, if he was going to drink like he often did – he was a Viking, they didn’t have water, just beer – free was in fact an incredible price. And Donnie, well… Damon didn’t know Donnie for beans, but the man seemed not too unlike Vince, and he’d grown fond of Vince, over their time. To say he trusted Vince explicitly would have been a lie – he hardly trusted anyone, Sven included – but fondness meant something.

“Alright, fine.” He said, and he said it like the whole process was a chore he didn’t want to have to get to. Donnie pushed himself up from his seat, a grin on his face – the whole thing gave big Tsundere energy, and while Donnie hadn’t ever met anyone in person like that, it was almost charming, in its own way. He could see what Vyx wanted to be friends with, somewhere under the paranoia and fear. Accessing it, of course, was an issue, but they’d get there, Donnie figured. Vyx was pretty good at getting there, at any rate. “But we’re taking my car. I will not be letting you drive me anywhere, Vyxen.” Damon tried to add in the caveat, to regain control, but Vyx ignored him, heading for the door and throwing them both open dramatically.

“Do what you want, but we’re taking our bike. Geometry is also like, my house, so it wouldn’t make any sense if we left the bike here and then had to come back just to drive it back again.” They headed into the hallway, Damon following quickly behind and the others behind him, Sven lingering to make sure the doors both closed and locked. It didn’t look like Damon wanted to use the standard elevators, likely due to his car being in another part of the building, but he hovered by the edge of the elevator bank, like he couldn’t just leave until they did. Vyx didn’t wait, pressing a boot to the button for the elevator to go down. It arrived with the kind of speed that said Damon never had to wait long for the thing to arrive. “So, we’ll catch you there?”

“Please don’t crash.” Damon said, and there was true concern there, and that actually roused a laugh out of Donnie as he moved past the pair towards the elevator. “What?” Damon’s tone was perturbed, like Donnie was laughing at him, and that only turned the laughter into chuckles.

“How do you think I met them?” Donnie asked, turning to give Damon a shrug that said he shouldn’t ask for anything without checking first, and Vyx snorted at the response.

“Yeah, I did totally get into a bike wreck outside of his gym, but don’t worry, Damon, I’m totally better now!” Vyx gave him a thumbs up, which did nothing to erase the expression of horror on Damon’s face. He didn’t like being right to worry. “Tell Billiam to park out back. We’re still working out which spaces are mine, but Molly can bully the city on my behalf if you get a ticket.” The elevator buzzed at them, impatient, and they stepped into the box. “See ya there. And don’t you stand me up.” They pointed, the elevator closing on them and Donnie, racing towards street level.

“You think he’ll be there?” Donnie asked, looking up as the numbers raced downwards, much faster than their earlier conversation.

“As I said, he’s a coward. He wouldn’t dare.” Vyx shrugged, reaching into Donnie’s pocket to grab a cigarette. He reached, too, their fingers briefly intertwining as they both went for the same thing, which made Vyx giggle. Donnie produced what they were jonsing for, before pulling out one for himself, lighting both before passing Vyx the second one. “Sven really wants this, too, so I’m not worried. I really think he’s terrified of having no one on his side when things go to shit.”

“It’s weird, considering how he acts like he hates having to deal with you.” Donnie shrugged, taking a long drag off the cigarette as the doors opened, letting them out into the lobby. Vyx shrugged, heading for the street.

“I have never known Damon to be a man who makes good choices, but hey, he could have changed.” They shrugged, ignoring the guard who seemed upset by their cigarette, heading outside and to their bike, which was parked where they left it. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get there first.” They hopped on, putting the helmet over the cigarette, and Donnie shook his head, settling down in front of them and stubbing his cigarette out, tucking it in behind his ear before putting his helmet on. He had to see, after all.

He didn’t want to disappoint Damon by crashing. That was Vyx’s job.

~*~

“It’s my liquor, I can over-pour if I want to.”

Geometry was still one of the most successful things Vince had ever done, and that said something. Before, it had been one of many storefronts in downtown Greensboro that needed a little love and attention, abandoned and undeveloped. Vyx knew why, of course – they’d seen the financials, which meant they’d seen the rent for the place and boy did their city think any business that survived needed to be built from bricks of 100 dollar bills. But Vince had everything bankrolled by Pip for long enough that he’d managed a little nest egg, and with a quick investment and a lot of hard work, the place had come together. Even being under only Al’s thumb for a few months, before Molly bought the place out, hadn’t done more than make some of the perishables unusable and bring the vibe down a bit – but under new management, it was starting to recover.

Inside, the walls were dark, blues and golds and patterns of color bringing something interesting to the space. The bar was in the middle, with space for dancing on one side and seats on the other, and it gave the space a coziness that was often missing. That night in question, it hadn’t been packed, the crowd still light while they realized the place was back under the old management. There was a new bartender – a tall, hairy black man with a bright laugh, a genuine smile, and less volume control than even Sven; he’d become a Malk ghoul almost immediately and adjusted well enough – as Molly had fired the old bartender as soon as she’d picked the place up. Apparently, the old bartender had been abusing the situation, giving the booze away to her friends without compensation for it and in general running the place like she owned it. That was, as far as Vyx understood, the first sign that Molly needed to take the place over, and once she’d been sacked – apparently, she didn’t have a proper domitor, either, as hers died in the war, and Kana was not as accepting about the whole thing – Molly had hired the new guy. Vyx liked him. He’d taken to the blood well, at least, and knew to get the fuck out of their way when they hopped the bar and reminded him they were the owner.

“Yes, but I don’t know if I want to drink this much.” Damon replied. He’d changed suits – Donnie wasn’t entirely sure when he’d done that, honestly, but the way Vyx had indicated his new suit with a casual and offhand comment said this was a regular occurrence and nothing to be surprised by. The other bartender hovered at the end of the space, serving the only other customers there and leaving Damon and Sven sitting next to each other at the bar, with Vyx on the other side and Donnie at the far end, leaning on the edge.

“Damon Wellington, I have never offered to pay for your drinks in our entire unlives together and now that I am you’re turning me down?” Vyx asked, pouring Donnie a second rocks glass of blood and whiskey and cracking another beer from below the bar for Sven. A lot of Vince’s investments had been, not necessarily in the building, but in the product, and that had worked out well for them. Many Kindred, especially in the city, didn’t actually like hunting, Vyx included. Finding a target was a pain, getting them to a quiet space was a pain, the risk of getting caught was a pain, and with the brief scare regarding the global pandemic, quite a few people had taken to staying indoors and the hunting had gotten more and more scarce, which was the biggest pain of all. But Vince had, back before even all of that, designed a specific wine label that commodified a commonality among Kindred – blood wine, a mix of tannins and fruit juice and blood that held the potence of drinking straight vitae as well as the burn of real alcohol they could process – but where others had bottled their own, one bottle at a time and sourced individually, he’d made it a brand. That brand, under Molly’s careful tending, had expanded, and now the V label offered blood-lager, and then an IPA after, and by the time Vyx had come back to Greensboro, the money had settled into something where they honestly couldn’t fuck up their finances if they wanted to. As long as they kept bottling the stuff, anyway, but that was under someone else’s direction; there was a whole factory, Vyx knew, using old Prohibition warehouses to bottle the stuff in relative secrecy. “C’mon. You don’t normally get to drink with friends, so give it a shot. ‘Sides, I bet I could drink more shots than you could, and I haven’t tested what Konrad considers an alcohol tolerance.”

Damon paused, mid drink, and quietly set the glass on the table. There was something about his expression that was calculating, sincere, and vicious, and Donnie realized quickly and with no small amount of hilarity that Damon was competitive. Possibly to a fault.

“Fine, but we should establish proper rules, first.” Damon said, agreeing to the idea, which Vyx grinned at. It didn’t seem like they were playing to anything except having a grand old time, but there was joy on their face that Damon had actually agreed to something fun. Changing suits was apparently common; having fun was not. “So no one can cheat.”

“Sure, fair enough, though I don’t know how you cheat at drinking. Hmm. Normally, the game would go until someone passes out, but I don’t think any of us have passed out drunk since we were sired, so I don’t think that’ll work.” Vyx hummed, tapping a finger against their chin, before they made a gesture of ah ha. “Let’s do this. Donnie is gonna pour us shots. We’ll start with like, what, five or something? And then we’ll take more as we go. If you’re poured a shot, you drink the shot, so first person to refuse a shot or refuse to order loses. Sound fair?”

“Why is Donnie pouring the shots?” Damon asked, incredulous. Vyx just stared him down, unwavering.

“Because he is the only person who hasn’t seen you drink, so he’s the only person who isn’t going to be influenced by your lack of alcohol tolerance. Also Sven’s a heavy hand and I wouldn’t want him to over-pour.” They replied. “Thirdly, I trust very few people behind the bar and I’m not about to get the new guy over here to indulge our bullshit when there’s real people in here with money that he should be concerned about.”

“Fine.” Damon sighed, and it was the sigh of someone who really didn’t know how to combat what he was observing, but who wished the world were different anyway. It would have been a sad thing, if they hadn’t been talking about drinks. Sven laughed at his acceptance regardless, clapping him on the back and nearly scattering his glasses across the bar top.

“After, I request a battle with Donnie!” He said, and he was clearly very excited, and if the sudden grin that crossed Donnie’s face at the idea said anything, the other man was also excited. Vyx shrugged, pulling several shot glasses from under the bar and spreading them out. A battle with Sven would be a hard challenge, but the fact that Donnie seemed ready to try was kind of attractive. “If he would agree to it, anyway.”

“I’m game, big guy.” Donnie nodded, slipping behind the bar, letting Vyx hop back over the bar top and join Damon on the other side. “But first, let’s get this challenge started.”

~*~

Damon had lost after three shots.

Donnie lost after fifteen.

Vyx wasn’t even going to try and battle Sven, but they knew that going in, at least.

“You know.” Vyx said, now potently drunk in a way Donnie hadn’t ever seen; it was strange, watching them wobble, as they were still incredibly alert and vocal and clear. Vampire drunks were weird. “I should battle you at some point. Not Sven, he’s like twice my size, I physically cannot put away that much booze, but you – you and I might got something here.” They cackled, leaning forward heavily on the stool, the only verbal tell of their drunken state the fact that they didn’t bother to rephrase might got something into an actual sentence. Donnie was also pretty drunk – he did slam fifteen shots over the course of a half-hour – but Vyx was moreso, having been pulling from the bottle directly between their rounds of shots. It was their bottle, of course, but it meant they’d probably put away just as much as Donnie. Damon sat next to them, nursing his third drink since the battle, and while he’d had much less overall, it was clear the man was a lightweight and couldn’t hold his liquor if it was handled to him with a grabby mitt attached.

“Let’s shelve that for a different night.” Donnie replied, pushing himself off the stool. Sure, he had the ability to eat food, and sure, he could sort of absorb the alcohol as he took it, but even as a vampire, he still had the sudden and immutable urge to piss. Not that he actually needed to use the restroom, but the idea in the colloquial sense, the need to get up, move to a different location that was quieter for a few moments, before returning to the same place. It was a drunken ritual, driven by factors that existed only in the hind-brain, and not a conscious need to be away from the party. The fact that he didn’t need the relief internally didn’t mean his body didn’t try and force him to the restrooms anyway; he pivoted, finding there was a door outside, which would settle the urge without actually going into a restroom. “I’m gonna take a breather.”

“I will join you.” Sven was the only one mostly sober, and he’d put away a solid twenty shots, the last couple only just to prove a point. Standing, the mostly was quickly apparent, as he stumbled slightly when he stood, but if anyone was going to prove themselves to be capable of doing more than gentle swaying, it was him. Donnie didn’t protest – he wasn’t trying to avoid company, just the lights and the music and the chatter and the undercurrent of muttering that was a half-empty club - heading for the outside door. Sven quickly followed behind, leaving Vyx at the bar sitting next to Damon, the bartender off elsewhere. With Sven gone, the air between them shifted, turned almost cold, like they were avoiding something and Damon knew they were avoiding something and their coupled avoidances meant there was a large gap in between them that they couldn’t really close, but which Sven had somehow plugged with his presence. Vyx poured themselves a heavy drink, thinking. Inhibitions were still gone, even with vampires, but they could still use their Malkavian senses to wander the minefield more or less unscathed; they just had to be careful. They were playing with fire – or, static, if the vision of Damon that existed over top of his new suit was really to be believed. He was a man made of electricity, an oncoming storm, but they could tell that he was quietly diminished from before, contained behind some kind of clear wall.

“Hey, Damon.” They started, and he looked up at them, bleary eyed and closed off. It wasn’t a great way to start a hard conversation, but a part of Vyx realized that if they didn’t start while he was drunk as shit, it would never happen. Damon was a master of the calculated dismissal; if they brought it up at any other time, or in any other way, he’d dodge and dance and let it whistle right on by him without so much as addressing it. Now was the time and it was a stupid decision but they could tell in their gut this was the one shot they had to take the hot rocks and make something happen with them. They weren’t going to repair anything if they didn’t burn it all down first, after all, so might as well light the match when everything was soaked in booze. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You have never hesitated in asking me things before, nor have you ever cared about my desires on whether or not I’d answer.” Damon replied, putting his drink to his lips and taking a long swig. He was drunk as a skunk, hardly able to keep focus on his glass, his hands shaking, but his speech was still impeccable. He wasn’t the kind to slur; Vyx often found Kindred didn’t. Something about the way they could move their blood around meant the liquor only went to the places where they wanted it to, and nobody ever wanted to sound like they were eight drinks in. “I’m surprised you do now.”

“I haven’t done anything, Damon, Vince did; that’s kind of the point, here.” Vyx said, and something in them said they were doing this and that things were about to get messy, so they skulled their drink and poured another. “Like, I’m trying to ask you something important here, and you’re always cocked and loaded to be an asshole about it.”

“Alphonse is always an asshole too, but you married him.” Damon added, staring at his glass. Vyx sighed; they could tell there was something in Damon that did miss Al, but not in a way he could quantify. Maybe they could have had something between them; Vyx had figured they would, eventually, end up a part of the polycule until Al betrayed them all and the world ended and everything changed so quickly that they couldn’t guarantee anything anymore, and by the time they’d gotten back, Al was in such a rut and Damon was in such a rut that they realized the only way they’d get together is in a different universe. At that point, Damon likely missed Al largely because Al’s asshole persona made Damon look quite reasonable.

“Vince married him. He didn’t want me.” Vyx grumbled, shaking their head. It wasn’t a good start, getting off on the foot that made them think of the way Al looked at them in Molly’s hotel, like they were a farce of the man he loved; like their existence was mocking everything Al knew. They exhaled, taking the line from Damon as consent to at least ask. “At least when I was watching them, when it was Vince, he listened. You never really liked listening to Vince, and that really sucked for him ‘cause if you had, well. Here, since you wanna be this way, I’ll just keep this short and sweet. I remember what you said, to Vince, in the forest? When you and Kana found out what Al did. I have a memory of that, on my own, not from Vince at all. Like straight up over the shoulder, third person.”

“I am drunk, Vyxen, do you really expect me to recall a nothing argument from…. From half a decade ago?” Damon asked, but no, that wasn’t a question, that was a dodge. He knew something was up. He knew because he claimed he didn’t recall what was said and yet he called it a nothing argument, an attempt to minimize what was said; if he didn’t recall the argument, he wouldn’t have wanted to call it nothing.

“I don’t know what you do and don’t remember and honestly, I don’t care, ‘cause that’s not the point. See, Damon, the thing is, I don’t have only my memories of the moment, I have the context you slapped together in Vince’s brain to help him figure his stuff out, and I know I have his distinct memories in here, somewhere, though they’re harder to access. Mostly, that context has been helpful stuff – y’all met a lot of people and I did not remember names well – but that conversation? My memory of it and the context for it are different.” They paused, letting the bomb of truth just sort of fall onto the table just as it was, without any kind of hedging or caveat. They were doing their best to keep a cool voice, to keep from slurring and sounding hammered; it was easier, as a vampire, though it was work to do. It just meant keeping their mouth full of hot blood, the muscles responding thusly for being so full.

“Do you believe Kana may have changed something?” Damon asked, and it was that which broke Vyx in two. Shifting the blame, trying to push Kana, one of Vince’s true friends from the whole debacle, in front of the bus so he wouldn’t have to admit to having done anything – that was a low blow, and even Damon seemed to realize it. Vyx slammed the drink in response, throwing the glass down hard enough to the table that it nearly shattered, pushing themselves up to face Damon with a fury in their eyes that had him reeling. Sure, he hadn’t expected the idea to go over well, but this was far beyond what he was used to.

“No, Damon, I think you did!” They snapped, turning on him, and Damon had the good sense to look aghast, at least. For a moment, they doubted themselves – maybe Damon didn’t change anything, and Kana had - but that was quickly dismissed – Kana simply wasn’t the type. She wouldn’t have dared, she believed too hard in the sanctity of someone’s brain, and they knew she wouldn’t have changed anything and they knew Damon knew that, too. It was the line of a man too scared to face the music he commissioned to be made. “But sure, always make sure to blame someone else. Never take accountability for anything. Never mind the fact that the bit that got changed was to make you look better, of course. Kana still looks like a complete ass, but I bet she was just feeling super altruistic in order to violate the sanctity of a dead guy’s memories to make you look like a peach.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about; how do I know you were even there?” Damon asked, and he pushed himself up so he was sitting straight up again, watching Vyx with a wary, but drunken, eye. “For all anyone knows, this whole missed Vincent and grabbed you is a farce made up by some wayward spirit or demon that’s having far too much fun making a mess of Vincent’s life. You can’t prove anything’s been changed.” He fired off, and Vyx snarled, something that started in their toes and made its way up through them like a shiver.

“You’d lost Art and Jeannie and this place called Wonderland, though I couldn’t tell you what that looked like ‘cause Vince didn’t spend much time inside it. They’d been killed, you were suspicious. Then Al threatened Kana and Nakamura in… a Waffle House.” Vyx shook their head; once the memory started, it didn’t stop, and they couldn’t stop it if they wanted to. “He was pissed. She was worse. She’d never liked Al. Being friends with her and marrying Al always felt like he was forced to carry a detonator in one pocket and a bomb in the other and if they ever touched everyone died and then wham Al slammed that bomb pocket right into the big red button. We met in the woods. You wanted to kill him; he was your friend and you didn’t give a shit the moment he turned because you didn’t care why he turned, just that he had. I couldn’t---he couldn’t understand any of you. We loved Al. Hell, I still love Al, Al just doesn’t love me but I’ve learned to take what sucks and run laps with it. And then you asked if he knew and he couldn’t lie, the blood makes it hard to lie so he didn’t and he told you what he thought but you only heard the concept that maybe he could have said something and missed the part where you hadn’t ever believed the shit he’d said before and also the part where he wasn’t about to let Kana loose on the man before he’d done any crimes. You were furious and you were madder when he tried to leave, but what the hell did you expect? That he’d just stand there and let you bully him until you were satisfied?”

Damon’s face had turned cold, sometime during the rant, but Vyx hadn’t noticed, the memory too real and too pungent and too fresh to look past. “You just wanted him to sit there and take it up the ass like a good little boy because you never liked the fact that the universe had decided he was going to be at the center and you had to sit on the outside but maybe if you’d paid attention, you would have noticed he was miserable at the center. Everyone he ever loved ended up betraying him, trying to kill him, or worse, bullying him while trying to remain his friend.”

“Are you quite finished?” Damon asked, his tone dismissive and contrite – clearly, he’d been proven wrong about the proof thing. Vyx didn’t have to say it for them to both know that, if anyone with a smidge of brain-reading looked in there, they’d be able to see the two books Damon had tried to cook like they were laid out and waiting for someone to find. Proving it wouldn’t be hard at all, and he could tell Vyx’s memory was accurate to the point where his machinations hardly mattered.

“With what, ranting at you or this friendship? ‘Cause the first, well, I don’t think I’m gonna not be mad about this for a while, dude. You went in to a man’s head to make yourself look like his savior – and don’t get me started on the fact that you’re the shade of fresh snow and Vince is brown, ‘cause that’s a whole level of stink I don’t think either of us want to get into right now – because you knew that was a fucked up way to treat him and now you won’t even acknowledge that you did it! And whether or not the second survives depends very heavily on how you address this.” Vyx bristled, hackles up, furious and drunk and not entirely sure what to do with either feeling now that they were there. Damon sighed, staring at his glass like he was honestly trying to figure out a way out of the situation without having to either admit to the wrongs or apologize.

“Vyxen, you know Vincent. You claim to have been with him through everything, right? So you know him.” Damon started, taking the bottle from the bar and pouring himself another full glass. If nothing else, he wasn’t going to remotely become sober while they talked; he was already on the rocks, so he might as well have had a drink on them, too. For all the alcohol in them, it didn’t escape them that this was the first time they’d ever heard Damon reference them as someone separate and apart from Vince. “He was… a mess. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was saying, most of the time, and any time he tried to help, it wound up ending poorly. So when Al betrayed us, yes, Kana was absolutely furious, as she was right to be! No one likes having someone they were supposed to trust turn on them, especially having threatened the one man in the room still mortal enough to die. I was… concerned that Vincent had been coerced, or-or tricked, into believing Al was a good person, but clearly, his memories of the incident weren’t accurate, so when we were asked to add context, I added my intent along with it.”

“You don’t just get to add whatever the fuck you say your intent was after the fact and pretend like that isn’t weirdly violating or missing the fucking point.” Vyx snapped. “Especially ‘cause I don’t believe that was your honest intent, and I had an unbiased, front row seat! I didn’t know Al from Cain, but I heard what you said. You were just as mad and you got even more angry when he tried to walk away. What, were you trying to punish him for being the center of attention? Trying to teach him a lesson about feeling important?”

“And what if I was?” Damon snapped back, pulling himself up to his full height by standing, even if he did almost wobble. The alcohol was getting to him, making him brazen where he probably shouldn’t have been, but he’d had his buttons pressed enough to finally break the machine. “I was important, Vyxen, me. Marie gave her letter to me. It was my magic and my roots and my power that meant we could end this in the first place! You couldn’t have managed Pip on your own without my assistance, not to mention my money and my contacts were how we got the army across the ocean! I was the one with the complete and accurate narrative, because I had been chosen to have it! Not him and certainly not you! So maybe I changed things – fine, I’ll admit it, I made some minor alterations. But Vincent Renato was a man who didn’t know a good choice when he saw it, and constantly made a mess of not only his life but everyone else’s lives as well. He trusted too freely and with no reason and that trust got us almost killed often. All I did was make an adjustment that would show Vincent reality as it happened and not whatever delusional fantasy world he’d been living in that meant that not telling us about the possible betrayal was somehow not only an option, but the best one!”

“You do not get to decide reality for us.” The sound that came out of Vyx’s mouth was not a kind one, and hardly words, and Damon, for a moment, realized he’d done fucked up real bad. Vince would have brushed it off and forgiven him, or at least, he figured Vince would; the man was, as described, way too trusting and far too kind for his own good. This was something even Vyx could admit to, and while it wasn’t a problem, it also wasn’t a bad thing, either. The fact that Vince extended trust to others without expecting it in return was half the reason they had the allies they got for their final battle – it was an easy way to showcase how big the stakes were without having to do much for it but a little begging. Damon thought it was unbecoming, but it had been useful, on occasion. It just also caused more problems than it was worth – or, at least, to him. “But you’ve always wanted to be the arbiter of the truth, haven’t you? That’s why you hate Malkavians, ‘cause you can’t understand a reality that you don’t shape with your own hands and instead of maybe finding value in other people’s perspectives, you dismiss and reshape your world to exclude them unless they’re trying to suck your tiny, lying little dick.”

They grabbed the bottle from the counter and took a hefty swig, enough to finish it. They considered smashing it on the counter, as they honestly would have felt better with a weapon in hand, but they didn’t want the bartender to have to clean up broken glass, so they stayed their hand. “But here, let me give you a taste of reality, since you’re obsessed with it: you weren’t ever that fucking important.” They snarled the words out, and that seemed to wound Damon to the core – or, at least, as much as it had wounded Vyx. “You were a pawn in a game we didn’t design, just like every other fucking sucker Pip walked into that mess. You realize we were the expendable ones, right? The low level schmucks made to do all the work for minimal benefit. You, me, Kana, Nakamura, Al, everyone. Just pieces in a grand scheme run by a couple of Antediluvians and everyone’s least favorite Nosferatu. And if you’d died? Illya would have found another sucker with enough of a need for power and enough of a death wish to make stupid choices to take your place without even blinking.” They leaned in, their words feral and their voice low and their anger real and powerful and deep. They hadn’t been in Vince’s shoes, technically, when he’d been berated for not letting them kill Al, but they’d been on the receiving end and even not being the true target, it sucked. “You don’t envy Vince because he was important, you envy him because people liked him and you’re too far up your own ass to notice that there’s a difference. Maybe if you weren’t, people would like you more, but clearly, you’re dedicating yourself to the practice of being a true, full on asshole.”

They stepped back, deciding it was better not to engage any further; Damon looked wounded, core hurt, and that was enough. Shedding real blood would only have wasted the alcohol. “At least Al’s putting on a persona. But I don’t think you’d figure the difference there, either.” They paused, their better judgment losing as they took the empty bottle and threw it with surprising strength at the far wall, where it shattered in a crash that shook the bar out of the quiet lull it had settled into. Damon didn’t say anything, the mood tense as the other patrons decided it was best to just go, and Vyx hovered, daring Damon to say anything for a long moment. When they’d left, and the moment lingered, and he still said nothing because he had nothing to say, they scoffed, pushing past him and towards the back door with a stride that said fury and a wobble that said drunk.

They arrived, out back, to find Donnie and Sven staring at the door, like they’d heard the crash and had stopped whatever they were doing, like they could actually make things okay if they just knew what was wrong. Vyx took about five steps outside before the emotions hit them and they crumpled. Crying was not a involuntary thing, not really – it took vitae to make tears happen and vitae was not spent without at least some willingness – but many Kindred had found that, when faced with enough emotion and enough humanity, they could still cry without actually pressing themselves to do so. It only seemed to happen to those vampires who weren’t so separate from being human, but it did happen enough to make it a known quantity that it could, which meant that, while both Sven and Donnie were shocked at Vyx’s tears, it wasn’t necessarily the crying part that surprised them.

Donnie was first to their side, but honestly, once he was there, he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Sven was quickly behind him, and it was with his direction that they helped Vyx up and away from the door, finding them a place to sit next to one of the walls. They curled up against their knees, back shaking, and Donnie hovered. On one hand, he had an idea what happened – something with that prick inside – but on the other hand, he knew rushing in to commit a murder of a prominent Kindred, especially one with powers he didn’t quite understand, in what Vyx had indicated was an Elysium, was a bad plan. He wasn’t used to Elysiums, yet, but he knew that unprovoked murder wasn’t a thing one did in them. But Sven was mostly sober, and had a head on his shoulders that had been through this kind of thing more than once.

“Donnie.” He said, turning to Donnie with a face that said he was absolutely on the train of dealing with this, and that the other had to trust him. Out of anyone in the room, Sven was probably the one Donnie had trusted on sight, but that was his partner sitting there, sobbing into their knees. It roused something in him that was probably at least partially fueled by alcohol, but that wanted to burn the whole place down for the fact that someone made Vyx cry. Sven, however, gave him a look that was steeled and hard, like they were going to get into a very different kind of battle if Donnie didn’t let him work. “I’m going to speak to Vyx. Can you check on my husband?”

“Shouldn’t you check on your husband?” Donnie asked, and he did his best to make it sound like a legitimate question and not just him being shitty or sassy, because he honestly didn’t intend to be, but there was something about being asked to step away from the one person he honestly gave a shit about that had him on edge. Sven’s face reflected his distress, however, and he didn’t seem to take any issue with Donnie’s tone, even if it came off a bit more biting than he’d intended.

“I will.” Sven said, simply, slowly. He knew how to talk to a Brujah that was on the edge of frenzy; he’d worked with enough of them, over the ages. Many Vikings were Brujah as much as they were Gangrel, and he kept his voice calm and collected, even if Donnie could hear the rumblings of something dangerous and deadly underneath. He was taking this seriously, clearly, and with all the deference necessary; he just had his way of doing things. “But I know the man I married. He won’t admit to any wrong doing if he thinks he’ll get away with it. So we’re going to sit here, and Vyxen, whenever you feel collected, I want you to tell me what happened. In the meantime, Donnie, I would appreciate if you could make sure Damon isn’t laid out on the floor. It will likely be best that we don’t crowd them when they talk, and if my husband is torpored, I’d like to know.”

“Then what?” Donnie asked, mostly curious. Sven turned to him, and there was something in his face that said that a lot of the then what depended on what Vyx said, and if their crying was any kind of indicator, then what was about to be much messier than what had already happened.

“Likely, I will be collecting my husband and we will be going home. I can’t speak to what happens when we get there.” Sven’s voice was low, a growl, and Donnie made a quick decision to head inside, letting Sven do his thing. He was quickly realizing that he was playing at a power level that he wasn’t entirely prepared to play with, considering that the man inside was a demon worshiper and the man outside was clearly powerful enough to deal with the first. “Thank you, Donnie, I appreciate it.” Sven’s tone was nice, however, and that gave Donnie some comfort; clearly, he was not an unkind man, just one in a bad situation.

Inside, the vibe was silent, and that was off putting and weird immediately. The other patrons had left; the bartender was at the back wall, sweeping glass into a dustbin. Damon sat at the bar, an empty glass next to him and a bottle in his hand, drinking straight from the neck – at least, until he saw Donnie come in, and he quickly switched from drinking to pouring it into a glass like he hadn’t just been caught doing it. He had a sour expression, like he’d been laid out verbally, if not emotionally, but Donnie was glad he wasn’t dealing with Vyx having laid the man out literally. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with a body he wasn’t supposed to kill.

“So, what did you do?” Donnie asked, finding a seat next to Damon and settling into it. Damon huffed, his posture closed, refusing to look at Donnie at all. The Brujah sighed, taking the bottle from where Damon had set it and taking a long draw himself. He had no embarrassment at drinking from it straight, and honestly, he wasn’t entirely sure why Damon did. “And don’t try any of that playing dumb shit. I might be a Brujah, but I’m from New York. I know a liar when I hear one.”

“Vyxen got themselves worked up over nothing.” Damon admitted, but Donnie wasn’t wrong, and he knew a liar when he heard one. The scathing look he gave Damon admitted as such. “I may have made some adjustments to Vincent’s memory when we added context. I wasn’t about to let myself become the bad guy in his story from a misunderstanding.”

“No, you’d rather just be a bad guy in everyone’s story from trying to fix a misunderstanding that didn’t need to be fixed.” Donnie replied, and that seemed to catch Damon’s attention in a way that said he hadn’t ever thought of it like that before. That was fairly common for him, though Donnie wasn’t aware of it. “I don’t know what you changed, and honestly, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you have a guy who thought you were his friend, and instead of taking the normal route most people do when they say things they don’t mean and apologizing, you decided to alter his memories instead. That’s fucked up and I work for Konrad Varnhagen.” Donnie took a long draw from the bottle, shaking his head. “Do you even like any of these people?”

“Of course I do. I married Sven, after all, and Vincent was a dear friend. You don’t just get to survive the end of the world together without bonding over it.” Damon’s tone, for saying he liked his friends, was more incredulous than it was affectionate, like he was more pissed over the idea that someone would doubt his friendship than he was actually enjoying the company of his friends. “Vyxen isn’t Vincent, of course, so there will be… adjusting, but.”

“You sure, dude?” Donnie asked, ignoring the last statement – it didn’t matter, and honestly, only served to make him more pissed, as the adjusting that Damon implied seemed to be on Vyx’s side and not his own. “’Cause you’ve yet to act like you like any of them. I’ve been around you a whole three hours, and if someone asked me right now whether or not I thought you actually wanted to be here, I’d have to tell them no. You don’t want to be here, you don’t like any of these people, and you’d rather be brooding in your wizard tower alone.” Donnie shook his head, but he did reach over, pouring another long draw into Damon’s empty glass. “You think you’re putting yourself out there as in control or whatever, but instead you just seem like a miserable piece of shit.”

“You’re not one to talk, you know. You don’t even know most of the people I do. Who are you to judge?” Damon asked, trying to push Donnie away, to push his words away, and Donnie just chuckled, pushing himself from his seat. He’d had a drink, Damon wasn’t sprawled out on the floor, and that was good enough. If Damon didn’t want him around, fine; Donnie was okay with Damon learning what happened to friends when you pushed them away the hard way.

“Someone who isn’t biased towards your accomplishments, that’s who.” Donnie shrugged, taking the bottle with him, something in him feeling powerful in the brief moment of denying Damon the comfort of hiding in the whole bottle. It wasn’t Damon’s to drown in, after all. “You wanna know why Vyx has friends and you don’t? They actually give a shit about people. Hell, they looked at me, a random bruiser from the boroughs who wasn’t any better than any of the other guys who worked the gym for Ray and said you’re important. They think other people are neat. You think other people are beneath you and you don’t make it worth trying to reach up and connect with you anyway.” Donnie put the bottle to his lips, draining it thusly, before setting it back down on the counter. “No wonder your lies work. You’ve made being the unlikeable Tremere your entire personality.”

“That’s unfair.” Damon tried, but it was weak. Donnie shrugged.

“Hey, I call it like I see it. Which, speaking of, bartender,” Donnie called out, getting the man’s attention, “This guy? I think he’s done for tonight.”

“Excuse you—“ Damon started, but Donnie shook his head, like there was nothing he could say that would excuse things.

“Look, your husband’s gonna be back in here in a second and he’s getting the whole story from Vyx, so you’re not gonna be drinking here much longer anyway. Thought I’d save the barkeep the trouble.” Donnie put his hands in his pockets, considering Damon for a long second; now that he wasn’t in his element, in his own house, he just looked kind of sad. “You know, I probably should have decked you for making them cry. I still want to, and if you keep running your mouth, I will.” It was a threat, serious and deadly, Elysium be damned. “Next time we meet, you should watch how you talk to people, ‘cause I’m only gonna stay my hand once.”

Donnie didn’t wait for a response, heading back for the door outside. He met Sven at the threshold, and there was something about Sven’s face that said whatever Vyx had told him, it wasn’t good. It was, in fact, very bad, and Donnie quickly sidestepped before he became nothing more than an obstacle to be stepped over. Sven, however, was constantly aware, and while he was absolutely beyond furious, he wasn’t mad at Donnie and it would have been unfair to take it out on him. “Vyx is still outside. They said they’d talk to you about the whole thing later, once they’ve had a moment.” Sven said, giving Donnie what he wanted to know quickly. “I will be taking Damon home, now. Please tell Vyx that I appreciated the drinks, and I hope we’ll get to meet each other in battle again soon.” Sven’s words were warm, appreciative, and kind, to the point where Donnie almost lost the fury that had settled behind his words like a parent about to take their kid home and ground them forever. Almost being the key word.

“Yeah, thanks.” Donnie nodded, letting Sven pass before heading outside. He didn’t hear any fighting – he did hear a brief conversation hissed in quiet tones, but only the tones and none of the words – the door closing behind him before anything else could be heard, but he also didn’t care. Vyx was still where Sven had left them, and their hands were on their head and while they had stopped crying, they were shaking very slightly, and Donnie realized why. In the absence, and in their emotional state, the Network had gotten its hands on their brain and flooded it. He knelt next to Vyx, putting a hand on their shoulder and feeling them involuntarily shiver under his touch. “Hey, let’s get you upstairs. Can you walk?”

“Mmhmm.” Vyx only muttered words, something that sounded like a yes, but they stuck their arms out in such a way as to ask to be carried, or at least helped up. Donnie didn’t mind, letting Vyx wrap their arms around his neck and lifting them like a princess, tucking his other arm under their legs and heading for the stairs to their apartment. They were on the floor just above the bar, so it wasn’t far, and Vyx wasn’t particularly tall or hefty, so it wasn’t like Donnie struggled to carry them. Vyx whined something, their face pressed against Donnie’s shirt – and they were getting blood on it but he didn’t care – like if they could just hide their face the night would get better. “They say he hates me.”

“What, the Network?” Donnie asked, and they nodded, not minding as he shifted them around in an attempt to open the door to the apartment’s inner stairwell. There was a path up from outside, but otherwise, all of the apartments were locked off by an inner stairwell. It meant random drunks couldn’t get into their house without their knowledge. “Vyx, the Network doesn’t know what happened.”

“They all listened.” Vyx replied, their voice soft, even as Donnie let them both into their place and deposited them on the sofa there. They curled up, and he sat next to them, throwing an arm around their shoulders. “They heard, they said he hates me. Everyone hates me. I’m not Vince and I’m not good enough.”

“I can’t speak for anyone else, but I don’t hate you, so they’re at least a little wrong. And Sven doesn’t hate you. He said thanks for the drinks, by the way.” Donnie said, grabbing the remote. The apartment was too quiet and he needed to fix it. “Everyone else just needs time to adjust. But for right now, I’m gonna put a movie on, okay? You relax and we can talk about this all later.” He didn’t wait for an answer, turning the TV on and throwing something random on the screen, relaxing back into the sofa and letting them curl up against him. He sighed.

Adjusting was taking a god damn long time.

#vtm #ttrpg #vampire the masquerade #fiction #vyxen rivera #j. d. dennis #malkavian #damon wellington #donnie lawerance #sven jordenson #geometry #tremere #baalli #gangrel #brujah

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nine-fingered-entity · 2 years ago

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as i head into the final case, the resolve of ryunosuke naruhodo: we are going into the fire. all will be revealed. the horrors unveiled. it's time. answers at any cost.

but first: brain vomit

i spent a lot of time theorizing on who the final defendant would be, only for it to just be the same trial. marginally disappointing but it's probably for the best. not sure if my heart could take more people dying

that being said: Herlock as a defendant (my top contender) would have been interesting. deeply.

the case title worries me. to be fair, everything about the setup here worries me. i suspect it will be unpleasant, if cathartic

i've been thinking this from practically the moment we met, but i strongly believe Stronghart will be the final baddie/final witness. it feels so obvious. almost too obvious. which is why i'm now second-guessing myself. i dont have a backup theory though. so.

i'm not sure i buy Gregson as the Reaper. it makes sense, but i have a nagging doubt. what about Gina? he told us that he was taking Gina to France to protect her. and that could be a lie, but. i don't know.

or actually. hang on. having a thought. He was the Reaper-or involved-and never felt doubt about his involvement until Gina. knows that the Reaper can't act outside of Britain (esp with Shinn dead) and so plans to flee with Gina. this gets him killed by the one in charge of the whole Reaper thing?

i honestly don't know. but there's more to it than what Zieks thinks. than what we all think.

Vigil is either lying to us or not all of his memories have returned. i swear he has Genshin's ring, from the Barok flashback. how would he have it?

on a similar note: the governor of the prison is not telling us everything.

i'm fairly convinced Genshin is not the Professor, at this point. Or at least that there's more going on there. He saved Barok. He wrote some weird papers (which are not the ones we were given, no way), he still doesn't really have a motive. The whole giant dog aspect of the case. The Baskervilles. There's more to this.

terrible thought i had: Dr. John H. Wilson. he was even a professor!

or Stronghart. again. i don't know.

i'm still waiting to see if Van Zieks and Stronghart are related. they have the same crest. it. worries me.

speaking of Van Zieks. god. the scene after the trial where he's his usual terrible self and then Ryunosuke is like "is that any way to talk to your lawyer" and then van Zieks apologized? so satisfying. you tell him, Ryunosuke.

i just like it when Ryunosuke gets a bit snippy. see: every time he called van Zieks his "learned friend" like go off. get him.

also i cannot believe Kazuma kept calling Ryunosuke his 'learned friend' during the trial what is Wrong With Him.

i miss my sword. obs it is good that Kazuma is alive and gets his sword back, but i miss the sword. its so fun.

at least Kazuma finally talked to Ryunosuke. like. way later that he could have but at least he did. thank you. i appreciate someone being honest with me. its so rare.

okay. Iris' dad possibilities time:

Mikotoba: unlikely. its possible, but it feels unlikely. gut instinct. i want to not be disappointed in him.

Dr. John H. Wilson: it could still be him, but i doubt it. he apparently didn't seem to have a family?

Herlock: plausible. unfort. will explode him with my mind if so. could not fathom a reason why he'd lie to Iris if so. although im sure one would exist

one of the nobles (Klint) killed by the Professor: spitballing. the og hound of the baskervilles had something to do with killing heirs. i don't know. concerned.

Gregson. highly unlikely but also. i don't know.

Mycroft: my crack theory. we dont even know if there Is a Mycroft.

i have more thoughts (incoherent yelling) but idk

if herlock does not have a good explanation for everything i will flip my lid. kazuma. iris wilson. the professor. the baskervilles. why was he even on the SS Burya? he has much to answer for.

#nellie liveblogs tgaa #nineposting

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tenshindon · 4 years ago

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Can’t explain it but the fact tien screams at tao to destroy his super dodon ray during their fight is very good for my soul

#snap chats #I touched on it a bit in my last posts tags buuut #like I said for some people who’ve experienced abuse from a loved one or close person #you never fully feel anger or hatred- like sure you might like not every person is the same #people react differently to situations and whatnot #nevertheless in Tien’s case you can tell he really can’t bring himself to fully hate tao or shen or even be angry with them #which is why his yell almost feels cathartic?#like I don’t think tien could ever properly articulate his relationships with shen and tao #let alone go in depth the emotional maze he’s trapped in trying to process his time growing up under them #so for him to just be able to vent out that frustration and pain- even if it was just to destroy a ray #I don’t know- it’s like. even if tien wouldn’t acknowledge it that’s probably what he really needed you know #and therapy. tien please get therapy 😭#please get therapy so I can stop projecting 😭#like Tien’s yelled at beams before LMAO but like. this one just felt more powerful #and it’s clear that tao had no chance of beating tien from the start #so it honestly does feel like this is Tien’s way of like. /trying/ to convey his hurt to tao even if he can’t articulate it #even if tao would never understand or get it or even care #like sometimes like. you’re arguing or someone’s yelling at you and you just kind of yell back #not because you’re angry but because you just want them to understand how you feel #I dunno <3 just me looking too deep into things again 🤧

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gloomiebearwritings · 2 years ago

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Hello, I was wondering if you do one for me? I was thinking of how Hanzo, Kuai Lang, Kabal and Erron Black reacts when their s/o explains why they do not drink because of their alcoholic parent (violent drunk) and is afraid they will be the same way. If so this would be cathartic for me having substance abuse on both sides of my family.

Hey there! Sorry, this took a bit, I wasn't sure how to tackle it- but I hope I handled it well! I don't know what possessed me to make Kabal and Erron's so long, but I couldn't help it 😭

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

Hanzo

He wasn’t much for drinking himself, not finding the feeling of his senses being altered to be tolerable

He’d seen those around him drink, seen their actions become sloppy or aggressive, and seen a fight or two because of it

For him it was something that’d disrupt his routines and peace, so he only ever tried a drink or two in the past but never drank again

One night at dinner you’d told him why you never drank, about the violent drunk of a parent you had growing up, and how you’d never drink even a sip in your life. He sat quiet for a moment as he listened before setting his things down to speak up; telling you he was sorry you had to experience all that you did, promising you that he never drank himself so there was nothing to fear with him. He respected your fear of being the same, and promised he knew you were not that kind of person- that you were the better, stronger person for taking the responsibility to never drink. Inside he felt some level of guilt for not stepping in sooner when others would begin to nag you to get you to drink- which he quietly apologized for.

Kuai Liang

He’d only ever tried a drink once, finding the taste insufferable and chose to never drink again- especially after seeing another get drunk once and almost get his lights punched out

Any time a gathering involved drinking he felt out of place as others would get tipsy, or when arguments would threaten to become fights

He found comfort in the fact that you never drank, though he never pressed as to why since he knew that was none of his business- your choice was your choice, regardless of why

After you two had left a get together that’d turned sour due to an argument between family members you decided to tell him. He was stunned at first, a bit ashamed that he didn’t step in sooner when the argument was getting out of hand, apologizing for not getting you out sooner. As you told him about the aggression and violence at the hand of the drunkard parent he sat quietly, looking up at you as you paced with a soft but sad expression. When you were done, he had you sit next to him where he said he understood what happened, that it hurt to hear someone he loved so dearly had to go through all of it.

Erron

He knew it all too well from his own upbringing, the fights, the yelling, the cheap shots at the walls

Though he’d drunk a bit in his late teens he came to stop when he realized he hated how it made him feel- since then having never drank again

He avoids all the gatherings he can that involve drinks, not wanting to be around others who might try nagging him into drinking with them

On one such night in, having avoided another outing he sat at his work bench, cleaning up his tools and sidearms. It didn’t bother him that tomorrow everyone would be nagging him for not going out despite them all having a hangover of some intensity. When you’d come over to leave him something to drink, he happened to pipe up how he finds the others’ drinking habits frustrating, especially when they’d poke his ribs for refusing- saying he was thankful you didn’t drink, wondering aloud why you chose not to. Speaking up you explained a bit of it, seeing his face drop to an expression of regretting mentioning it, worried he struck a nerve in you. He apologized profusely until you gave him a kiss to shut him up- though hours later he was still apologizing, saying he was now even more thankful his ass stopped drinking.

Kabal

He was used to seeing and being around people drinking, sometimes joining in but more often than not just ignoring it

Drinking never really appealed to him, finding most alcohol Kano would bring to be like drinking battery acid

He chose to often just leave and go somewhere else when the drinking picked up and bickering started, not wanting to have to be a referee

Standing with his back to the wall, letting the hot water wash over him in the shower he heard you enter to leave him his towel that he’d forgotten; he apologized for forgetting it again with a tired groan. Without really thinking about it he wondered aloud if he smelled of alcohol when he came home even though he didn’t drink any, saying to himself that he was around a lot of people who were drunk. He was aware that alcohol was something you were uncomfortable with, hoping he didn’t make you uncomfortable by coming home and possibly reeking of it before he got cleaned up. When you spoke up to alert him you were still in there, he jumped a little, apologizing again- though he did finally ask why it was that you avoided drinking. As you told him he began to regret asking, feeling like he made you uncomfortable even without seeing your expression. After you finished, he sheepishly looked out from behind the curtain to apologize, saying he didn’t realize it could be such a sore topic for you; but said he appreciated that you didn’t drink, so you two could just ignore parties together.

#my works #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #hanzo hasashi x reader #mk hanzo hasashi #mk scorpion #erron black x reader #erron black #kuai liang x reader #mk kuai liang #mk kabal #kabal x reader #mk x reader #x reader

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pineapple-lover-boy · 4 years ago

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Can- can I just talk about the Victuuri relationship? Pretty please?

I just…. I’ve never seen a healthy relationship that starts from idolization and a need to get out that has ended in a satisfying way.

Let me elaborate:

We all know that Yuri idolized Victor. It’s why he was so nervous in the beginning and why it took time for them to build on their relationship, he saw Victor as a god.

Victor? He was depressed. He loved the ice so much but he longer found excitement in competitions. He didn’t have any worthy opponents that had a chance of beating him (sorry Chris).

I believe Victor “fell in love” at the banquet. He was attracted to Yuri but, even though he lost, he also saw potential in him. That night was probably the most exciting night for him in a long time. I think he felt genuine affection for Yuri but also saw a way to get out of his predicament.

Then, of course, Yuri didn’t show up the following season (a year had passed before the present timeline). He was most likely annoyed that someone who had gave him excitement didn’t show up. Did he think Yuri had a chance of beating him at first? Probably not. Did he see potential or at least someone he could have fun with during the season? Hell yes!

And then when he saw the video of Yuri skating Stay Close To Me, something that awarded him a gold medal. That’s all he needed. He saw how Yuri not only skated it perfectly but I bet he thought Yuri skated it better. Let’s not forget that emotion is a huge part of skating. If you don’t skate with the passion your supposed to hold for whatever theme you have, your performance can almost seem futile. Victor obviously won because he perfected it but if it was based on how he presented it alone, he would’ve lost. He saw someone worthy of skating an gold medal piece while also having the heart to do it. That’s talent.

Anyways, because of this, their relationship doesn’t hold well in the beginning. He’s passive aggressive towards Yuri because he doesn’t see his own talent and Yuri is just going along for the ride because holy shit it’s Victor fucking Nikiforov.

As they get to know each other and Yuri opens up more (plus Victor getting info on Yuri from the others) Victor starts to see Yuri as an actual person and not someone he can use to project himself onto and then later skate against. And Yuri starts to see him as an actual person too.

I saw on another post talking about how we didn’t see them during the summer and how the end credits of every episode suggest they got to know each other better as both in the credits and in the show they (Yuri) are able to touch each other more. I 100% believe this.

I also believe they might’ve had an argument or two on this topic. It’s not easy to switch from inadvertently seeing someone as anything but a person to an actual person with emotions and feelings. I believe Victor would’ve tried to back away from this subject but Yuri wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t big arguments like in episode 7. It was probably little quarrels that annoyed them both but after having a long conversation they finally started to become more comfortable with each other.

Yuri started letting go of the notion that Victor was a god like creature and Victor saw him as something other than a pawn. Yuri stopped getting as embarrassed with Victor touching him and Victor stopped trying to seduce him as much just so he could see the man from the banquet.

This most definitely leads the way towards a healthier relationship but episode 7 was inevitable. Yuri’s anxiety was at an all time high when he comes out on top. The fact that he needs to stay on top and not mess up is getting to him. As a person with anxiety, it’s pure hell. The thoughts of failing won’t get out of his head and even as he turns off all the monitors he can still hear everything.

Victor takes him away from prying eyes and has no idea what to do. Despite an obvious change that would’ve had to include some emotions from both occurring over the summer, he still has no idea how to help someone in distress.

Then he makes his first mistake. Yuri is visibly shaken by someone’s scores (can’t remember who) and Victor, who is at his wits end, yells at him to stop listening and puts his hands over Yuri’s ears. This tells Yuri how nervous Victor is too and despite knowing that Victor wouldn’t leave him now it shows to him that Victor doesn’t have faith in him (even if he does).

Victor tried to shatter Yuri’s heart. He must’ve expected Yuri to maybe sign heavily but tell him that he’ll do everything in his power to win (probably something that’s happened with him and Yakov). Instead he see’s the consequences of his carelessness. Yuri rightfully lashes out at him and even through all that Victor stills says “should I kiss you?”. Idk what Yuri was thinking but if I were him I would be extremely offended that Victor would try and use me like some doll he can play with and can assume that physical affection and love can fix everything, which was probably what Yuri was thinking.

There’s something off about Yuri and Victor when they emerge but Yuri is surprisingly better now. Cathartic crying can do wonders, kids. There’s also my favorite part of the entire show (couldn’t find a gif):

*head jab* “Hey, fuck you.”

*more head jabs* “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I know you don’t like this you unempathetic dicknip.”

*head pat* “You’re forgiven.”

We all know what happens next: Yuri ends his love story with Victor’s signature move and Victor kisses him out of joy and the need to one up him (with love, of course).

I’m gonna get a little sloppy here with the timeline because I have the memory of a female protagonist that needs to go back to work to get something only to accidentally bump into the jerk CEO of which she will develop a toxic relationship for fan service, so forgive me.

Gonna skip ahead to the scene where Yuri tells Victor that he’s leaving skating, and basically Victor too. (At this moment I realized I’ve been spelling Viktor with a c and not a k which is really fucking with my brain but it’s too late to go back). Victor starts crying and realizes just how Yuri felt when he was rejecting him.

I believe Yuri found some light in the situation because of that fact, which Victor was not having. They’ve been closer than ever now. They’ve kissed, they’ve also announced they they’re getting married, so what the hell?!

Yuri, as we know, feels he’s keeping Victor from the ice. Victor, while he misses the ice and wouldn’t mind being competitive again, has found meaning and if he’s going to be Yuri’s coach to stay where he is than so be it.

He wanted to coach Yuri because he wanted a worthy competitor and while he still wants that, what matters most now is his relationship with Yuri. If he stops being Yuri’s coach and Yuri goes off the ice he knows it will be the end. Yuri loves the ice too and I’d bet he’d try to distance himself from Victor as to not feel regret from leaving without actually knowing that he’s doing it.

They’ve grown so much at this point. But that doesn’t mean it’s over. After all they’ve been through Yuri doesn’t realize that consequences of parting from one another. While being too dependent on your spouse isn’t good, it’s what they both need right now. They are what caused the other person to be happy again and while I hate those types of storylines this one executed it perfectly.

I find Victor’s silent plea to Yurio absolutely heartbreaking. He knows it’s bad to put pressure on people but now he’s doing that to a 15 year old boy. He’s putting his relationship and his life into this child’s hands because he knows there’s nothing else he can do.

I do think Yurio had a crush on Yuri but even if he didn’t: Yuri has taught him so much. He, although being an ass most of the time, has really come to love Yuri as family. It’s clear that Yurio was always lonely (Otabek being his first friend and all) but once he came to Japan and lived, truly lived there, he wasn’t lonely anymore.

Yurio wins, Yuri gets silver and all’s well that ends well.

I guess my point of this was to show how well the relationship in YOI was. I could’ve included some more detail on some points but I usually write stuff in one take (it’s very hard to revise without my mind shutting on itself).

I just love how an implicitly toxic relationship can come out so healthy. They don’t do any of that miscommunication bullshit and when they do it’s because the characters don’t know what to do or how to handle something. Like humans do!

They could’ve easily made this the hot famous guy thinks the kawai girl boy is just so adorable and the kawai girl boy is absolutely infatuated with the hot guy. Hijinks ensue which includes the kawai girl boy thinking the hot guy is in love with someone else. She He gets pushed into thinking that she’s he’s more independent in the end and happily ever after for the couple that will divorce in less than five years! Yay!

Seriously, I thought that was what was going to happen but YOI subverted my expectations so much. They are people that grew from their bad mindsets. And you know what? Yuri still has anxiety! Victor is still bad with handling emotions! And that’s ok! We don’t change that quickly. It takes time and hopefully another season.

I’m definitely using this show as a template for healthy relationships. It’s so hard for me to properly write them when I’ve never been in one and I’m not given the chance to see it happen in different environments (when searching it up all I get is “they trust each other. They blame each other. They’re compassionate.” Like ok but can you show me how?)

Yuri!!! On ice…. I love you so much. You have done so much for my mental health and my writing. Thank you.

#yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #katsuki yuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikirofov #please tell me if you want me to elaborate on some sections #long post #yurio plisetsky #yuri plisetsky #healthy relationships

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ddaengyoonmin · 4 years ago

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Pairing: Single dad / childhood best friend!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: !!ANGST!!, smut.

Word count: 7.1k

Warnings:(issa dark oneee) Mentions of abuse, abusive parent, underage drinking and drug use, Jungkook is an ass, lots of descriptions of smoke and cigarettes in an unhealthy way. Mentions of vomiting. Toxic behaviors in general; Rough play; handjob; edging; Sub!Jungkook; Dom!Reader; choking; biting; overstimulation; slight mentions of blood; just all around physical and emotional pain definitely not #goals.

a/n: definitely cried a bit writing this. This story ended up becoming super important to me and something I think I’ve been holding in for a while. A lot of this story is based on my own life and personal experiences, which is why the first part is a highschool backstory. Absolutely nothing sexual happens until they are both adults, the first part of the story was just a necessary cathartic therapy moment for me to get out :_)

(Also I tried to make this a gender neutral insert, but this is my first time doing that so kindly let me know if there's anything I can do to improve on that!)

Song inspiration: Kathleen- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Rango- Catfish and the Bottlemen; Anything-Catfish and the Bottlemen

--------

He was completely insane. It never made you like him any less though.

When you’d first heard Jungkook was back in town you had so many different emotions running through you, you thought you’d faint at the feeling.

------

When you were still in highschool, he had been your closest friend. You spent practically every day after school with Jungkook, smoking in your car, driving around through cemeteries laughing about something funny one of your teachers had said, or the security guard who’d tried to chase you down the halls for skipping 2nd hour earlier in the day. There never seemed to be a dull moment when he was around.

When you’d first met him, insane and reckless were never words that would’ve come into your mind.

He was a grade younger than you and had seemed to fly mostly under your radar through all your highschool years. It wasn’t until the second half of your Junior year that you'd even noticed he existed.

You’d shown up to the first day of track practice the way you always had, scanning over the new freshman on the team. You’d mistaken him for a freshman and greeted him as such. He nervously and shyly corrected you that he was actually a Sophomore just searching around for something new to try out.

About half way through the practice you noticed a group of your teammates had swarmed around Jungkook and he looked to be almost in tears as he cowered under their words and faces, looking up at them all.

He was a small child, not very muscular and extremely geeky looking. You found it endearing though, and found the classmates picking on him infuriating.

You stormed across the track over to where they stood demanding to know their problem, they all were also a grade younger than you and seemed to be intimidated by you. How could they not be with the star of the track team chewing them out like they were being condemned to hell.

After they left, two big saucer eyes stared up at you, tears still slightly pooled up in his lower lid, he wiped them off with the back of his hand.

“Thank you.” He sniffled. He explained that everyone in his grade always picked on him like that. He didn’t really have any friends, and everyone seemed to think of him as the weird kid.

After that day the two of you were inseparable.

You went to the city fair together on the last day of school that year, and that was the first time it happened.

You were supposed to be at a school sanctioned celebration, you’d told your mom that's where you’d be.

But here you were sitting in your car with Jungkook before going to the fair, the two of you giggling as he messily tried to roll a joint, swearing that his older brother had taught him how.

You felt yourself bleeding guilt for lying to your parents. But, how could anything that sweet Jungkook convinced you to do be bad?

Stoned out of your mind the two of you ran hand in hand around the fair, giggling and riding your favorite rides too many times. That was the first time you realized, he was truly your best friend.

That summer had you pulling a 180 on everything you’d ever thought you were capable of.

Before you knew it, you were sneaking out of your house multiple times a week to drive around with Jungkook and smoke, listening to music and feeling free.

———

It was now the middle of summer. You were sitting in your car while Jungkook was filling up gas for you.

Two girls and a man approached Jungkook and started chatting. You found that odd, but then again, Jungkook had a habit of getting into conversations with strangers everywhere you went.

You never really noticed it til then, but at some point, he had really changed from the boy you met. He was more outgoing, he was dressing better…

A tap on your window surprised you.

“Hey y/n! These guys are throwing a party at their place, let's just park your car here and go! They said just hop in!”

You felt your jaw drop a bit as you opened your mouth to protest. But he was staring back at you so excited, so hopeful that you’ll join him. You agreed, against all better judgement and that sick feeling in your stomach that you shouldn’t be getting into a car with strangers.

Jungkook whispered in your ear as the two of you walked to your car. “I told them we were 22” He chuckled. Your heart dropped a bit, more sick feelings coming on.

“Okay.” You managed to nod and agree somehow. Jungkook excitedly opened the door to their backseat, as if he did this kind of thing all the time.

You were both lucky, the strangers were not murderers, though there was no party, just them and some beer and a hookah in a messy apartment living room.

None of it felt right, it didn’t really feel like a fun time. Jungkook though seemed to think he was at the party of the century. He chugged the beer they gave him in no time and was up messing with their stereo trying to get on some “PARTY MUSIC” he screamed out.

In no time at all that firecracker of a boy was wasted and trying to dance up on their table.

It wasn’t long before the apartment owners realized their mistake, this child was completely off the rails drunk. One of them tried to bring him down from the table and he somehow managed to kick their glass hookah entirely across the room.

There was a still silence as you all looked at the shattered glass on the ground. You had your hand clasped over your mouth looking from the glass to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s eyes were wide at you, the smile that grew on his face seemed ill fitting for the moment, as the apartment owners were obviously furious.

“Run!” Jungkook screamed out in a laugh, rushing over to you and grabbing you tightly by your wrist and pulling you out the front door.

Then the two of you ran, you just kept running down the street till your lungs gave out and you collapsed on the ground on a grassy patch in front of a gas station.

Jungkook’s chest was heaving but he still managed a loud laugh, his eyes crinkling as he held his stomach, rolling over onto his side.

“Jungkook. That was insane…” You gasped out.

“That was fun.” he chuckled, seeming to be unphased by it all with a casual smile, rolling back onto his back and staring up at the sky.

And that was the moment you realized how crazy he was.

After that, things like this were common with Jungkook. You were his protector at school and his partner in mischief and crime.

The two of you ended up both quitting track together, against your parent’s scolding and the coaches yelling about losing one of their star runners.

You knew you wouldn’t be a star that year though, with all the smoking you’d been doing and you’d skipped out completely on practicing throughout the summer. It just seemed pointless. And you wanted more time with Jungkook before you had to leave…

———

You found yourself getting in increasingly more dangerous situations. He’d have you take him to parties at nearby university dorms, he refused to learn to drive, part of you felt like it was just because he liked you driving him around.

He always lied about his age, that never sat right with you.

Sometimes you found yourself gripping both hands on a beer bottle so tightly you thought your fingers might snap while he was getting talked to by every person that walked by. People loved him at first glance every time you went out together. But they didn’t know him.

They didn’t get to see his real chaos, they never learned the lies he told them, they’d never be able to understand him. Not like you thought you knew him.

You knew things weren’t good at home for Jungkook. He had an older brother he was close with named Jin, and a young sister named Jill, both very lovely, but his dad was a real piece of work. In the whole time you’d been friends with Jungkook you’d only been to his house twice, he avoided ever taking you there if he could.

You found out why when one of the times Jungkook had thought it’d be safe to bring you over for a moment, his dad got home from work early.

“What’s this shit.” His dad had grumbled at Jungkook, pointing to the light eyeliner he had around his eyes. Jungkook had recently started to wear makeup, he did a good job of making it look natural, but today he’d gone a little heavy on the eyeliner.

“Nothing.” Jungkook muttered, turning his back to his dad.

Apparently that was the wrong move, and all you could do was stand there, frozen.

Jungkook and you have never talked about that day. But it was traumatic for you both. You held him close that night as he cried in your arms, sitting in the parking lot of your favorite park to smoke in.

His eye now even more black than it had been with just the eyeliner, which was now smudged across his face due to his tears.

You vowed to never let anyone hurt him ever again. No matter what.

---------

Months later Jungkook was taking pictures of you, for your senior pictures. Talking about how you’d be gone next year but you’d still stay in touch. Graduation was hanging over you like a dark cloud. You didn’t want things to change between you and Jungkook.

As much trouble as you’d gotten in, as much as your grades had dropped this year, as much as your parents gave him judgemental looks any time he was around, you loved him so much.

---------

It was the last month of school.

He was gone.

Somehow his father had managed to get your phone number and you were hearing an entire vocabulary of cuss words.

“I know you’re hiding him from me. Where the fuck is he?’ the man growled on the other end of the phone.

You wish you knew.

But he just didn’t show up to school that day.

He didn’t text you like he always did to say that he was ready to be picked up.

No voicemail.

Not a word.

And now even his dad was calling you. The worry that you felt had you not paying attention to one word of your classes all day.

And the next day.

And the rest of the week.

Until next monday. He was just...there.

“What the fuck Jungkook!” You punched him in the shoulder. He looked like a mess, his hair hadn’t been cut or washed in a while, and he looked like he was wearing the remnants of makeup from a few days ago.

He chuckled “I decided to just hop a train out of town for a while” He shrugged “fuck it.”

“And you couldn’t tell your best friend where you went? Do you realize I thought you were dead?” You snapped at him.

He shrugged again. “It's fine. It was fun!” He smiled a giant toothy grin.

Your blood was boiling. How could he not even say sorry? How could he act like this didn’t affect you at all. It was infuriating.

You didn’t talk to him for a week.

------

You made up with Jungkook, but things never went back to normal. You were always waiting for him to just up and leave again. To just abandon you and act like nothing is even the matter…

You’d graduated and it was summer, you thought like last summer you’d be hanging out together most every day.

But, he stopped asking.

When you did hang out with him, he’d continuously mention this new group of friends he’d found in the town he ended up in on his little adventure. You’d think they were celebrities the way he gushed about them.

There was a girl of course, she was ‘the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen’. You found yourself holding back a sob at those words, because you knew exactly what he meant. Because it was the same as what you saw when you looked at him.

He was increasingly spending more time with his new friends than you, and school would be starting for you soon...maybe it was a good thing. He was still in highschool and you were becoming an adult, he needed friends in his grade.

That didn’t make it hurt less though.

Only about a month into summer, with a simple text Jungkook invited himself over, asking you to order some pizza and said he’d be staying the night.

In your new apartment you’d gotten to yourself after graduation, Jungkook now smoking with you on your couch, the two of you chuckling about the show you were watching. Nothing seemed wrong at that moment, it all seemed finally back to normal between you two.

And that was the last time you had seen Jungkook for 4 years.

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

You’d checked your phone what seemed like every minute for the first month he was gone.

Even texting his brother Jin many times and getting no reply.

You waited for him to come back with some wild and crazy story of new trouble he’d gotten himself into. You figured he had to come back, he still had school, and with Jin in college he’d never leave his little sister alone with that monster right?

But as months continued to pass, it was clear he wasn’t coming back. All of his social media platforms had been deleted or you’d been blocked.

There weren’t enough tears in your body for how hard you cried yourself to sleep each night when you realized he really was gone. You felt your body heaving against your mattress with each loud sob. Your head was beginning to throb from the tears and from the stress of knowing you really had lost him.

Not that he was ever yours.

That was something you should’ve realized sooner.

Jungkook would never belong to anyone or any place.

You chuckled at a memory of skipping class, sitting in your car in the school parking lot, his wild eyed smiling expression when he’d pass you back your cigarette completely smoked to the end.

“How!?” You’d smack his shoulder with a laugh. “It was only half smoked and I handed it to you for a hit!!! How is it gone!”

He’d wink, laugh and lean back in his seat. “Just trying to die quicker.”

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

You’d graduated from your university this year. Life had pretty much gone according to plan for you that way, you had to retake one class which really wasn’t bad considering how much you’d fallen off at the end of highschool.

You were finishing up your shift at the chain restaurant you’d been working at the past year. As you were clearing off dishes sighing over another table stiffing you on a tip, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

Quickly you took the dishes into the kitchen to the dishwasher and went to the bathroom to check your phone.

It was a text from a former classmate you’d hung out with a few times. You and Jungkook would smoke with him occasionally, though Jungkook seemed closer to him than you. It didn’t surprise you, Jungkook made friends so easily when they weren’t in his own grade.

Jungkook…

What was surprising was that it’d actually been a bit since you’d thought about Jungkook in a way that made your heart ache this way. It’d been years, he was nothing more than a story you’d tell to new friends. That wild child that you hung around with in highschool, the one who got you into so much trouble. People’s eyes would widen at some of the stories you’d told (If only they knew the ones you didn’t dare repeat)

“You could’ve died!” They’d say.

Or “He seems like he was just a toxic friend.”

Some even would ask you if you think maybe he could’ve been a sociopath.

You'd laugh and say it was probably true. As much as you had hung out with Jungkook, you never quite felt like that love you held for him as your friend was ever returned.

The older you got and the more you looked back on it, Jungkook never did anything but use you.

You drove him everywhere, you bought him dinners, you bought the cigarettes and weed, you defended him from his classmates( even though you’d seen him stab a man with a pen at a party once, over simply interrupting him.)

And what did Jungkook give to you?

Chaos. Trouble. Pain. Hurt…

You closed your eyes and gulped. You want him out of your head. But when you open your eyes and stare back down to the text on your phone, that wish is impossible.

‘Jungkook is back’ It read.

A chill spread across your entire body and your phone clattered to the floor. You didn’t even think about the cracked screen you’d likely caused. Your mind was stuck on one word, one name.

Jungkook.

Jungkook…

You actually felt sick, luckily you were already in the bathroom, rushing into one of the stalls you emptied your stomach, tears forming in your eyes you collapsed with your back to the cold painted cement of the bathroom wall.

He's back.

What does that even mean?

While Jungkook had been a geeky little kid in his classmates eyes for most of his life, his reputation had started to get around. When he went missing he was the talk of the town. Everyone seemed to have their own theory.

“I heard he ran off with a meth dealer.” … “No, I heard he’s in florida fighting alligators.” …. “That's bullshit he's obviously finally gotten himself in juvi!” they’d all speculated.

The worst part of hearing all of that, was that you could only speculate too.

He’s back…

A second text came in. You gulped and looked down to see a link to an instagram page kookymonster69. Of course it was that, you chuckled.

You clicked the link and it sent you over to his page. There were only three pictures posted, he really had just come back...you’d thought maybe he’d just blocked you so somehow this was a relief.

The first photo was a selfie, and WOW. He did not look like the small lanky boy that you had been friends with.

He was wearing a loose fitting tank top that showed off his massive biceps and the tattoos that covered his arms and hands. His hair was still jet black but he seemed to have learned how to perfectly style it, and his eyeliner was more on point than it's ever been.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. Your heart beat fast right before it sank at the second picture.

It was him with a child that looked to be around 3 years old, the caption reading ‘My lil mini me’.

Oh…

Your mind flashed back to the girl he’d always talked about, the time he’d been spending with his new friends instead of you.

Of course.

Of course that's where he went.

But why couldn’t he tell you? Why would he think you wouldn’t want to be involved in his kids life?

You cursed again under your breath and without thinking you pressed the follow button.

“I-” You gasped. You really hadn’t meant to do that. But, maybe it's good he knows that you know he's back…

--------

Two days later you got a notification. Kookymonster69 is following you on instagram.

Within minutes a dm was popping up on your screen.

“Long time no talk huh?” it read.

You wanted to throw your phone against the wall. Though that would be the second act of unwarranted phone violence because of this little shit. So you held back. Theres only so much in your life he’s allowed to fuck up.

How could he think that was what you wanted to hear after all this time. No different than when he’d hopped a train out of town and came back like nothing was out of the ordinary.

No apology. No “You must’ve been so worried”

You started to type out a message telling him off. Asking him what the fuck was wrong with him, just dissapearing and coming back into your life like this.

You maxed out the word count on your text and re read it back over. Sighing, you deleted every word and sent a simple.

“Yeah...it really has been a while. How are you?”

Damnit. You groaned and tossed yourself onto your side on your couch.

He replied almost instantly.

“Better lately...I have a son.”

“I saw, he looks a lot like you. I always knew if you had a kid they’d look just like you lol called it” you felt a smile grow on your face, despite every bone in your body reminding you of who he was, and what he’s done...here you were letting your cheeks catch fire once again at his words.

“He does. lol he’s so much smarter than me though already.”

“I don’t doubt that ;) “

It was about ten minutes and he hadn’t replied. You knew ten minutes wasn’t a long time, nothing compared to four years. Yet somehow those ten minutes were the longest moments you’d ever experienced.

“I wanna see you again.” the words read on your phone. You felt your stomach tie itself up into a tight knot.

Bad idea. Bad idea. You should have never even replied.

Why were you digging up the past?

You quickly turned your phone over and groaned.

Letting him back in would likely only bring you more pain. Why the hell were you actually considering it.

This time it was your turn to wait a while before replying. You were weighing pro’s and con’s lists in your brain and though the con’s list kept growing, the Pro list’s first and only item seemed to top it all. ‘Its Jungkook.’

---------

So here you were. Waiting in your car outside of the address he’d texted you to pick him up at. You were parked outside of a cheap looking apartment building only about five minutes from where you lived. You wondered how long he’d been here...this close to you without you knowing.

You sucked in a deep breath when you saw him walk out the front door. He was wearing an oversized grey baggy t-shirt and tight black skinny jeans ripped at the knee where you could see the start of a tattoo peeking out. He had on silver chains and his hands were covered in rings, he looked like some kind of goth model.

You rolled the window down and called over to him.

“Not sure if you remember my car.” You spoke lightheartedly trying to offset the nervous feeling, and another feeling you were still trying to sort out.

He belly laughed and smoothly opened your passenger door and hopped in.

“How could I forget!” his dark eyes were wide and excited as always, his charming smile you’d once been so used to now making your brain practically glitch out. “I can’t believe you still have it.”

You shyly shook your head. “Broke college student” You chuckled. “So what are we doing? You said you just wanted to chill…”

Jungkook smiled and relaxed back into your seat, like he’d done a million times, so naturally. Though he didn’t look like the same small boy you once knew.

“Yeah, like old times.” He winked and pulled out a small baggie of weed.

You rolled your eyes and smiled.

“C’mon don’t tell me you quit.” He teased.

“Of course I didn’t.” You chuckled.

“Good y/n.” He smiled cutely, booping your nose with one finger, and you felt your heart stop.

Your face must’ve fallen or had some sort of expression to let him know he’d affected you, because he immediately punched your shoulder as if to snap you out of your thought.

“Give me a cigarette then and let's go.” He demanded joyfully, banging on the dash of your car and giving you an “onward” motion with his arm for you to start driving.

You drove around for about an hour, smoking cigarettes and passing a joint back and forth.

He didn’t talk much about himself or what he’d been up to and he also didn’t ask much about you either. When you’d bring up questions you got short replies that didn’t seem very satisfying.

“So are you still with your kids mom?” You asked him as he was passing you an almost fully smoked joint.

“Hell no!” he coughed out smoke with his words. “Evil.” he muttered and shook his head.

“Evil?”

“Yup.” he nodded, grabbing another cigarette from your pack without asking. Just as he always used to. What's yours was always his back then, but right now his casual way of falling back into old routines was hurting, you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You pulled into the parking lot of you and Jungkook’s favorite park you’d hangout at. You pressed the brakes suddenly and aggressively bringing the car to a half.

“Woaah.” Jungkook giggled as he let out a tiny puff of smoke.

“You left.” You felt yourself about to explode. Trying to hold it in was becoming impossible.

“You just LEFT.” You yelled the last word, startling him and making him cower back against the window.

“Y/n…” His eyes widened as he gave you his best puppy dog face, this was the first time you’d probably ever really yelled at him. He’d been scolded plenty of times, but you were always soft on your Jungkook. He didn’t deserve that though, you might not have been dating, but he’d broken your heart and you deserved an explanation.

“Why didn’t you tell me? How could you just leave me without a word?” You felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

It was silent in your car for a while.

Jungkook brought the last hit of his cigarette to his mouth shakily.

“No.” He shook his head, doing something that always gave you the chills. The way he could turn his cutesy eyes into stone cold daggers in an instant used to make your heart drop into your stomach. Though right now you were a bit too worked up to feel anything but anger at him.

“No?”

“Yeah. No. I don’t need to tell you shit.” He shook his head, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Right.” You huffed, sinking into your seat. “Why would you. Why would you tell your best friend what's going on in your life right?” you snapped and realized the words building inside had reached your tongue faster than your brain could tell you to stop.

“Though I guess maybe we never really were best friends? Maybe I just thought that because you hung around me so much. But you never actually gave a shit about me did you?”

Jungkook’s eyes were widening and he was cowering further away from you.

“I would’ve done anything for you Jungkook, you know that? Died for you, killed for you. Do you realize how many times I took the fall and got in trouble for things you did? And you just…let me. You always just let me get hurt for you, let me ruin myself for you. And you never cared. And then you just...left.”

Your last words came out as a choked up whisper.

Jungkook was staring at the cigarette in his hand that had gone out, twirling it between his tattoo’d fingers and pursing his lips together tightly.

“Why’d you keep hanging around me then if you hated it so much.” He grumbled, seeming genuinely hurt by your words.

You sighed. Hating that now you felt the need to comfort *him*. You shook your head. No. He doesnt get to get away with that.

“I guess I don’t know.” You muttered glaring at him.

His eyes met yours for a moment but on seeing your anger they quickly flitted away.

“You seemed helpless.” You answered after a moment. “That's why. I thought you needed me. I thought I was helping you by being there for you. I didn’t realize you were destroying me.”

At that Jungkook’s gaze was serious and direct at you.

“Destroying you?”

“Nevermind. This was just a mistake.” You murmured starting to put your car into reverse to leave. A large tattoo’d hand pressed onto yours stopping you.

“Hey.” He spoke seriously.

You stopped and looked over at him, already visibly exhausted from this conversation.

“Just…” He grabbed another cigarette from your pack and lit it, sucking in a large hit. “I missed you, trust me.” he grumbled.

“Oh wow, well at least you missed me the four years you chose to not talk to me.” You hissed out slightly getting in his face, making him flinch back.

“I’m not gonna say sorry.” He whispered, his doe eyes staring at you intensely, his eyes flicking back and forth between your eyes and what seemed to be your lips.

Of course he’s not. Of course he does know that's what you want. You had an urge to grab his face in your hands and just shake some sense into him and scream ‘Why can’t you just have some normal human emotions you complete sociopath.’

Instead your body’s next choice of action was one that neither of you were expecting.

As if your lips were magnets, yours fell onto his quickly and perfectly, snapping the two of you in place together.

You pulled back with a gasp, holding your lower lip between your thumb and index finger, feeling mortified at yourself.

Jungkook on the other hand had a smirk slowly growing on his face, his eyes mischievous, likely knowing this was his “in” back to your good side.

The fact that you knew that's probably what he was thinking should’ve been enough to have you stop right there. But the way his eyes were now scanning you up and down in admiration was too intoxicating, too addicting, you’d missed him too much.

“Do your seats still fold all the way down.” He pointed to your backseat with a chuckle.

You smacked his shoulder. “And why would that matter to you.” You teased, almost completely forgetting how angry you’d just been with him. Damnit, how did he do that.

He shrugged with a knowing laugh, his eyes crinkling up cutely, bringing his still lit cigarette to his lips.

“You wanna get even?” He glanced at the back seat again.

“Get even?”

“Yeah.” He winked “You seem like you’ve got a lot of pent up steam at me there. I'm just suggesting some sanctioned punishment-” the corners of his lips curled up mischievously at the word. ”-so maybe you’ll feel a bit less upset at me.”

Bad idea. Bad idea. Those words were playing on a loop in your brain.

Trying to remind you of every bit of hurt and pain he’d caused you, and how if you slept with him, you knew that pain would only hurt worse the next time.

Jungkook was already getting out of the car and putting the seats of your station wagon down flat into a makeshift bed.

You had your fingers clenched tightly around your steering wheel, knuckles turning white. This is Jungkook, not just a one night stand, not a new fling. This is *Jungkook*. You knew there was a higher chance than not that you’d be filled with regret after this.

But there he was now laying out in the back seat of your car, staring at you with a cute and enticing look. “y/n.” He spoke sweetly. “You can come punish me now” He winked.

You couldn’t deny to yourself how much you wanted him.

You took one more deep breath in and without taking another thought to it you rushed into the back seat with him.

He was laying on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“Took you long enough.” he teased.

Before he could say anything else you were on top of him, pushing him onto his back and pressing him to the seat with one hand and putting another one over his mouth.

“You’re definitely going to have to shut up.” You growled.

His eyes lit up at the fire you’d shown him. He’d never seen you like this before, his sweet y/n that always looked after him, looked out for him, picked him up every time he needed it.

He knew he fucked up. But life itself was fucked up, nothing in life is fair and no one gets what they truly deserve. Jungkook especially. So why would he owe anyone an apology?

This was the best he could give to you.

He nodded, agreeing to be quiet for you.

You slowly let your hand fall from his mouth and replaced it with your lips, melting into him, you were kissing him like you’d been starved for it. Your fingers started to tangle in his hair, messing it up and tugging slightly.

Jungkook's hand reached around your waist, pulling you against him, moving down to your hips and trying to get you to grind against him.

You quickly reached down and grabbed his wrist, pinning it above his head and shaking your head slightly as you gave him a few more pecks.

“Don’t get greedy. You can’t be patient after all this time?” You scolded.

He stuck out his lower lip in a pout, taking in the sight of you straddling him, looking down at him with a mix of emotions still flowing through you.

You went back to kissing him, pinning his other hand above his head and after a bit, rewarding him by pressing your core down onto his and giving him the friction he’d wanted.

He let out a soft and needy whimper as you did.

You felt butterflies filling your stomach at his noise. It was so gentle and sweet, and to know that you were the one making Jungkook feel this way was a sense of pride you’d never felt before.

You stacked his wrists one on top of the other and held them in one hand, your other hand now slipping between where your bodies met and palming him over his jeans.

He hissed out a sharp breath and a small “fuck” fell from his lips involuntarily.

“Does that feel good baby?” You teased him pulling back from your kisses and studying his face, knowing the answer was obvious.

He bit down on his lower lip and his eyes were clenched tightly as he nodded.

Your fingers fumbled slightly but didn’t take you too long to undo his jeans and slip your hand inside, now running your hand slowly along his length over his boxers. His hips lifted slightly off of the seat, pressing up against your hand desperately wanting more.

At that you gave him a slight squeeze, causing him to yelp out. His eyes were wide staring up at you.

“I said don’t get greedy. Remember, this is supposed to be for me.” You chuckled at his disappointed face. “You’ve always been so fucking selfish and greedy.” You gently kissed his lips, before roughly taking his lower one between your teeth and biting harshly.

“Fuck.” he hissed, a small drop of blood now forming where you’d nipped at him, but he only seemed more hungry for you now.

You tugged on the hem of his pants and boxers. “Off now.” You demanded.

He wasted no time after you released his wrists, he tugged down his clothes, pulling up his shirt slightly and letting his length fall against his toned lower abs.

He was so beautiful, smiling up at you with a playful look. It was an absolute joke for you to think you were actually in charge here. You were wrapped around his finger and you always had been.

He looked absolutely mouthwatering. But you didn’t want to let it get to his head. This was supposed to be payback.

You went back to kissing him, that way you didn’t have to look at him, that way you didn’t risk saying the words that you shouldn’t...

With a free hand you took his length into your hand, letting the weight of him sit in your palm for a moment before slowly tickling your fingers up and down. He twitched under your touch and his kisses faltered as he let out a small gasp.

“y/n no more teasing.” He moaned out.

“I thought I said shut up.” Your hand was back over his mouth, but you decided to indulge him for a moment, pumping your hand up and down his length a few times. You could feel his moans vibrate against the palm of your hand still clamped down on his lips.

You let him go and slowly moved yourself down so that his cock was positioned right in front of your face. Letting your tongue lay flat against the base with pressure you licked a long stripe up his cock. When you got to the tip you flicked your tongue a few times right under his head. His hips reflexively moved up at that, begging you to take him fully in your mouth.

Instead you “tsk’d” at him a few times, loosely holding his cock in your hand and not moving.

“It's no fun just sitting there waiting is it?” You asked. “How do you think I felt waiting for you for years.” You lightly slapped the tip of his cock with your hand not holding it.

“AH!” He yelled out “Hey!” he strained his neck to be able to give you a shocked expression.

“Too far?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

He thought for a moment, then shook his head, laying back down. “No. No it's not that I don’t like it.” He chuckled. “Just...it's you. I never thought you’d be like this in bed.”

You were suddenly moving up to face him, your hand grabbing the sides of his neck tightly. “You don’t know me anymore.” You growled. “You made sure of that by cutting me out of your life for four fucking years.” your grip on his neck tightened slightly before you released him.

He gasped in a deep breath when you pulled away, looking up at you in awe.

You moved your hand back between his legs now pumping quickly, twisting over his head when you’d get to it. You ate up every moan that you pulled from his lips, they were yours, you’d caused every single one and they were yours to keep forever.

Right before it looked like he was going to cum, you pulled your hand away, leaving his cock untouched and throbbing.

“No..” He whimpered, “Please please.” His needy whines were so cute.

“But why should you get to cum?” You teased him.

He pouted dramatically. “Y/n…” He spoke sweetly “Cuz you love me. Make me cum because you love me.” He smiled a wide and precious smile.

Fuck.

Your mouth hung open at his words. Of course he knew you loved him.

All the easier to use you.

Because that made it all the harder for you to say no to him.

Letting your forehead rest against his, you brought your hand back to his length, letting your fingers drag against his soft skin as you gripped him.

You could see a small smirk on his face, as his breathing became even more unsteady, his moans catching in his throat as he panted heavily.

“Oh my god that feels so fucking good.” He groaned out. “Fuck.” His hands were gripping the back of the front seat that his head was pressed up against, his muscles flexing as he tightened his grip unable to contain how good you were making him feel.

His abs were clenched and his hips were lifting off of the seat for you as he desperately fucked himself into your hand.

“I-I’m cumming.” He gasped out, his eyes met yours as he came, his mouth falling completely open and noises resembling your name were being muttered as his hips jerked and his cock twitched in your hand, spurting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

You didn’t stop moving your hand around him, waiting for him to get so sensitive that he had to pull your arm away, both of you laughing.

You rolled over next to him, turning your head to face his.

He was facing the top of the car, eyes closed and he had a big smile on his face, seeming very satisfied with himself.

“Even?” He finally opened his eyes, turning to you with a bright grin.

You chuckled.

It probably would be asking too much to expect Jungkook to see the flaw in his logic here. Once again, he’d gotten you to give him everything, for nothing in return, and he wanted to call that his apology.

You shook your head at him.

“No. But I do feel a little better.”

He nodded, seeming to somehow take that as a positive.

“You’re good at that.” He sat up, taking his shirt off and using it to wipe off his stomach.

“Thanks…” You muttered. Here it was, the regret setting in. The feelings of ‘what the fuck did I just do’. Even worse was the feeling of knowing now that you had, all he had to do was say the word, and you’d be right back there again.

You exited the backseat of the car quickly, rushing to grab a cigarette from your glove compartment, your fingers shaky as you brought the lighter up to the tip. Flicking it many times but not getting a flame.

“Fuck!” You yelled, chucking the lighter as far as you could, managing to make it over a fence and into the park.

Jungkook had just gotten out of the back seat in time to witness your little display. He didn’t say anything, simply grabbing another lighter from the front seat along with a cigarette for himself and walking it over to you.

You let him light your cigarette and the two of you stood for a minute in silence.

“Does this mean you’re actually back…” You whispered softly, almost not wanting to even ask, not wanting to know if it wasn’t the answer you were hoping to hear.

Maybe Jungkook knew that. Maybe that’s why he didn’t say anything at all.

He never told you he loved you, he didn’t even try and make you feel loved.

Maybe it was good that way, it might make it a bit easier when he leaves again.

Maybe it was better that way, it was kinder than being lied to.

#Jungkook smut #Jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #Jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x gender neutral reader #bts x you #jungkook reader insert #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts imagines #bts x gender neutral reader

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sir-subpar · 4 years ago

Text

Where have you been? (1)

*This takes place in the Cursed!Bf au. This is pretty focused on Pico's point of view. Not a lot of shipping in this chapter, but I had a lot of fun writing this. This will be a 2-parter. Btw, swear words.*

Pico had challenged Boyfriend to another rap battle for fun and awaited his arrival. He was late, but they did plan to meet up at 5:00 pm so Pico figured it was just rush hour traffic holding him up. So he waited patiently. Minutes turned to hours, and the sun had set below the horizon. Pico tried to text him, but got no response. This was bullshit. He waited for hours like a fool and now B was ghosting him? If he didn't want to rap why didn't he just cancel?

Pico grit his teeth in frustration as he got into his car. He began driving to Boyfriend's and Girlfriend's house. His grip on the steering wheel was unnecessarily tight. Sure, maybe he was overreacting a little. It was just a rap battle, but it angered him that B had wasted his time. He could have done something to let him know that they had to cancel. So in the moment, telling him off just sounded cathartic. He muttered random obscenities under his breath, as if reciting how he was gonna tell him off.

By the time he had reached the house Bf and Gf shared together it was dark out, some stars had started making their mark on the blackened sky. Pico could see the living room light was on. Good, they were home. Pico slammed the car's door, then walked up the little path to the house's front door. He knocked on the door and waited. He tapped his foot impatiently. He had spent his whole afternoon waiting for this guy to show up so the idea of waiting any longer annoyed the hell out of him.

He could hear the door being unlocked and was about to start his angry rant when he saw it was Girlfriend at the door. The look on her face was odd, she looked surprised and… worried? That seemed off to Pico, as she usually opened the door with more enthusiasm no matter who was there. She was wearing a red crop top and black sweatpants, her comfy clothes.

"... Pico? What are you doing here?" She asked, her tone came off as nervous. "I just wanna ask Boyfriend something." He decided not to yell at Girlfriend, she wasn't the one he was pissed at anyway. "Oh… He isn't with you? He doesn't… live here anymore."

Just like that, all the anger built up in Pico had just fizzled. Replaced with confusion and shock. And a little bit of worry. "Why doesn't he live here??" Pico asked, what was going on? "Bf and I… we broke up. He left a few weeks ago and I haven't seen him since." She seemed nervous, she avoided making eye contact as she spoke. She left fidgeting with her hair, a nervous habit of hers.

"So you don't know where he is, huh?" Pico asked, he too, started feeling nervous.

"I haven't seen him since we broke up. He left most of his stuff here too. Even his phone. I figured he had run off to stay with you but I guess that's not the case." Girlfriend continued. Pico's worry only grew from there. He put his hands in his pockets and awkwardly continued their conversation. "How long has this been going on? Like, when was the last time you saw him?" Pico had to know. How long had he been out of the loop here? Girlfriend looked him in the eyes, almost shamefully. "Two weeks."

Pico couldn't help but be shocked by this. "Do you know anyone else he might have talked to? Anyone he might be staying with right now?" Anyone who would know where he is? That was what he really wanted to know. Where could he have gone? Girlfriend shook her head. "No, I don't know who he'd go to other than you. Most people we know don't really like him that much as far as I know." Pico couldn't help but grow more worried. This just wasn't like B… was he in trouble? "Well.. I'm gonna try to find out where he is. You wanna help?" Pico gestured towards his car, thinking they could ask around. Girlfriend averted her gaze, once again avoiding eye contact. "I'm pretty sure I'm the last person he wants to see.."

Pico couldn't argue with that. Hell, when he and Bf broke up they still kept in contact to some degree. Boyfriend completely ghosting someone was rare, so he must've really wanted to avoid her. "Yeah… I guess that makes sense. Uh, have a good night." Pico and Girlfriend shared goodbyes and went their separate ways. Pico never liked being alone with her, to be honest. It was always awkward, now it was made worse with Boyfriend being who knows where. Pico drove off in his car, contemplating what he should do. 'Maybe I should just call some of B's friends. He might just be staying at one of their places.' He thought to himself.

Pico had to think about who Boyfriend trusted the most (not counting himself or Gf in this case). He started thinking of people B had introduced him to. 'I have Hex's number, he's friendly, maybe Bf talked to him? It's worth a shot.' Pico scrolled through his contacts until he found Hex's number. The phone dialed for a few seconds, then he heard a robotic voice greet him. "Hello friend!" Hex exclaimed, enthusiastic as always. Pico wasn't really sure if he'd consider himself as Hex's 'friend' per say, but he never disliked the guy.

"Hey Hex, it's Pico."

"Greetings Pico! Haven't heard from you in a while! How are you?"

"I'm alright, thanks. I actually need to ask you something. Could you help me with something?"

"You sound worried. How can I help?"

"I know this might sound random but… is Boyfriend staying with you by chance?" Pico nervously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He hoped that by some chance that maybe Hex knew something.

"No, why?" Just like that, Pico's hope was dashed. Despite that, he decided to fill Hex in on the situation. Maybe having another person looking out for B would help their chances of finding him.

"Well, he and Girlfriend split up 2 weeks ago and he just kinda… disappeared. I've tried to reach out to him but he's not responding. Gf said she has no idea where he is."

" I'm sorry, I don't know any more than you do."

Pico let out a small sigh. "Yeah, I'm worried about him. Hey, if you see him, will you let me know?"

"I will."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Pico was about to hang up the phone when Hex said one last thing.

"Actually, my friend Whitty sometimes hangs out with Boyfriend. I'll call and ask him if he knows where Boyfriend is." Hex sounded hopeful, which made Pico feel a little better. "Thanks, Hex. Let me know what he says."

"Will do! Bye for now!"

"Bye."

Pico hung up. Deciding to drive home for the time being. He couldn't help but suddenly wonder though… who was Whitty? The name sounded familiar, but he couldn't recall meeting someone named Whitty. Maybe Bf had mentioned the guy to Pico before. Regardless, if this guy knew anything about Bf, he'd take it.

Pico got home and felt exhausted. He kicked his shoes off at the front door, and dragged his feet as he walked towards his bedroom. He changed into some pajamas and started preparing to sleep. Part of him wanted to stay up and wait to hear back from Hex, but he was tired, and he needed to rest. He'd continue his search after getting some sleep, he decided. Pico pulled his bedsheets over his body, closed his eyes, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

…

Pico got up the next morning at around 7:30 am. He got dressed, brushed his hair and teeth, all that usual morning routine stuff. Then, just as he was about to start calling more people to see if they knew anything about Bf, he got a call from Hex.

"Hello? Hex?"

"Pico!" Hex yelled, sounding excited. "I have good news!" Now Pico was beginning to feel excited. "I talked to my friend Whitty. He said he saw Bf a few days ago!"

"Does he know where B is now?" Pico was nervously fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. He wasn't entirely sure why, but ever since his conversation with Girlfriend, he just had a gut feeling that something was wrong. He hoped it was just paranoia. "Does he know where Bf is now?" Pico asked. 'Please say yes.' He pleaded in his mind. "Hang on, let me ask him." Hex replied, then his voice sounded distant. He was talking to someone in person, their conversation muffled. "He said no, but he saw Bf in the same general area a few times last week. Maybe all three of us should go there and look for him together! Like a search party!" Hex sounded hopeful, and honestly it wasn't a bad idea. Pico took a deep breath. This was a good thing, this narrowed the search a bit. Pico reminded himself. "Okay, let's do it." He said, feeling determined. "I'll send you the address so we can meet up. See you there!" Hex proclaimed. "Thanks, I'll be there." Pico hung up, then rushed to get his keys, his gun, and other supplies then got in his car. Hex, as promised, sent him the address. Pico entered it into his phone's navigation system and drove there. It was in an oddly run-down neighborhood, with rundown buildings and dark alleys. He wondered what Bf would be doing there. He honestly didn't like the idea of parking his car in this neighborhood, do you worried that it would get stolen or broken into. So he parkes a little ways away, and walked the rest. It was for the best.

He walked to their agreed meet up spot. The sidewalk was in poor condition, as well as most of the buildings around him. Cracked and discolored walls, boarded up windows, shattered glass and trash was all over the place. The street alone looked as though the city gave up on it. This whole place was run down. Even one of the street lamps was knocked over, luckily it was the morning so it didn't matter.

Pico could see Hex's monitor head and basketball jersey from a distance. Said robot noticed him and waved to him. He saw someone else there with him, presumably Whitty. Upon closer inspection, Pico noticed a few things about Whitty. The first being that he was fucking tall as hell! Pico knew that he was short in comparison to most people but even so, this dude was TALL. Pico standing at his full height wasn't even half this guy's size. He had to be close to 9 feet tall. The next thing he noticed was the fact that his head was a bomb. His eyes were orange and glowed. Pico couldn't help but stare at the guy. When did Bf come into contact with this guy? How did they meet?

"Hey." Said the tall bomb-headed man. Pico flinched slightly, realizing he must have noticed him staring. His voice was kind of gruff, but not the usual kind of gruff. It reminded Pico of an electric guitar for some reason. Though he figured it probably was best not to say that out loud. Pico snapped out of his thoughts and finally replied. "Hey, I'm Pico. I'm guessing you're Whitty?" Pico held out his hand to shake Whitty's, the taller man returned the gesture. "Yeah, that's me." When their hands touched, Pico was surprised by how warm Whitty's hand was. It was definitely hotter than his own human hand. Not to mention how smooth his skin was, it felt somewhat like metal, but not quite. He kind of wanted to keep holding it just so he could examine it more, but he figured that would be weird to do to a guy he just met. So he let go.

"So… you saw Bf around here?" Pico asked, and decided it was time to start their search. "We crossed paths a few times but every time he ran away. He seemed… upset." Whitty explained, somewhat trailing off towards the end of his sentence. He too, seemed like he was worried about Boyfriend. Pico wondered how close they were. "Can you show us where you last saw him?" Hex asked, a question mark appearing on his screen. Whitty nodded "Yeah, follow me." He turned on his heels and began walking in front of them. He seemed confident, like he knew the area well. Pico and Hex quickly followed.

It was mostly quiet between them, Hex played some simple tune to break the silence. Something Pico appreciated. He felt a little awkward, he didn't know anything about Whitty, but apparently he was a friend of Bf's. He quickened his pace a bit so he could walk next to Whitty, he decided to break the silence between them. "So… how'd you meet Bf?" Whitty looked at Pico with an unreadable expression. "He challenged me to a rap battle." Pico chuckled at Whitty's answer and replied jokingly with "Ah, so the same way he meets everyone." Whitty chuckled. "Yeah, pretty much." He could hear Hex laugh a bit too. It really was the way he met most people. "So, how long have you known each other?" Pico asked. "Hmm… I think months now, almost a year. What about you? You two seem close." Whitty looked at Pico quizzically. Pico rubbed the back of his neck "Aw geez, a really long time. Since we were kids." Whitty's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. So you're really close then huh? That explains a lot actually." Pico tilted his head in curiosity. What did he mean by that? "Yeah? Like what?" Whitty shrugged. "I dunno… B talks about you sometimes. He told me several times that I should meet you. Said he thought we'd get along." Whitty chuckled. "He always looked so happy when he talked about you.."

Pico couldn't help but feel flattered, but he also felt a little jealous. Bf told Whitty so much, he trusted him. He knew He longer than Whitty did, yet Bf apparently didn't trust him enough to tell him about his and Gf's breakup. Pico tried to ignore those thoughts. Bf, wherever he was, needed him. It wasn't time to be bitter. "Wish we could've met under better circumstances." Pico muttered, Whitty nodded. "Yeah."

Hex then decided to interject their conversation. "Hey Whitty, are we close to where you last saw Boyfriend?" The robot asked suddenly, startling Pico. For a second, he actually forgot the robot was there. 'Oh yeah.. We've been walking for a little while now.' Pico realized that he had lost track of where they were. "Yeah, sorry. It's just around this next corner, we're almost there." Whitty instructed. "Ok!" Hex replied. Pico nodded, observing their surroundings. This part of the neighborhood was… odd. It didn't seem quite as old as the rest of this beaten-down area. It seemed more… recently abandoned. The buildings, though still a mess, seemed more modern in comparison. Like at some point, this was a nice neighborhood, possibly even upper class at one point.

The trio turned right at the faded crosswalk, about three buildings down the street, they stopped. Whitty turned to face Pico and Hex. "This is where I last saw him. I tried to talk to him but he ran off and I lost track of him." Pico looked at the rundown building they were in front of. Unlike the other buildings in the area, it didn't seem that old. What surprised him though, was the obvious damage. It looked like the building caught fire at some point. The windows looked like they were shattered from the inside. Pico looked through them, he could see the remains of what appeared to be a restaurant. Broken and burned tables, shattered plates and collapsed support beams were all over the place. He could see the remains of broken speakers towards the back of the dining room, close to what was probably a bathroom. Pico took a few steps back and tried to read what was left of the restaurant's sign. Then it clicked.

He had heard of this place, about a year ago it was on the news because some lunatic blew up the place in the middle of a rap battle. He remembered seeing Boyfriend and Girlfriend escaping the smoldering wreckage on the news. He called them as soon as he saw it and let them stay at his house that night to comfort them. He could vividly remember the look on Girlfriend's face when they watched the aftermath on the news. Complete and utter terror. He had never seen her more scared in his life. Apparently the arsonist was never caught, for some reason. Pico never understood that. It was a restaurant full of people, surely somebody would have seen where he went, right? The thought made Pico uneasy. Why would B come anywhere near this place after that?

"Yo, Pico. You listening?" Whitty's voice suddenly pulled him out of his thoughts. He wondered how long he was zoning out for. "Sorry I- I just got lost in thought. What were you saying?" Pico felt bad. He was supposed to be looking for his missing friend, not zoning out. Pico mentally chastised himself for it before focusing on Whitty again. "I don't know where he went from here, but I don't think he left this side of town." Pico nodded, then looked up at Hex, his monitor was processing something. Pico guessed he was thinking up a plan. Then the monitor showed a map. "Maybe we should split up into different areas" the robot started, his now map that was once his face highlighted three different areas in the neighborhood. "After each of us surveys their area we can check in with each other over the phone." Hex offered. Pico, though he appreciated the thought, didn't really like the idea of the three of them splitting up in a neighborhood like this. Sure, he could take care of himself. Hell, he was an assassin for fucks sake. But even he knew he wasn't invincible. He was vulnerable. Especially in an area he wasn't familiar with. Before he could politely object though, Whitty commented on the plan. "Sorry Hex, that's a no go. This place ain't a good area. If we split, we could get ambushed." Pico was relieved that Whitty agreed with him. "If there were more of us, then we could split up into teams. But it's just too risky to do as is." Pico added, making his stance on the situation known. Hex sighed (or at least did the robot equivalent of sighing), his arms dropped and his now disappointed face appeared on the monitor's screen again. "Ok… this is far less efficient though." Hex replied, defeated. Pico gave him a comforting pat on the arm. "We appreciate the thought, Hex." Pico said, hoping it would appease the mechanical man. Hex smiled and let it go. "Where should we start looking?" Hex asked the group. Pico couldn't help but eye the burnt restaurant. "Let's check in here first." Whitty and Hex both looked at Pico quizzically, but shrugged it off and agreed.

Pico attempted to open the front doors, but they wouldn't give, the restaurant's double doors were stuck shut. Pico was about to slam into it when he was stopped by a large hand. Slightly startled, he realized it was Whitty who lightly grabbed him. The bomb man gently moved Pico away from the door."I got it." Was all he said before he gripped one of the door's handles and yanked the whole door off its hinges. Wood splinters flew everywhere as the door cracked and broke. Whitty tossed the door aside with one arm. Pico's jaw almost dropped. 'Holy shit. Either that door was weak or he's strong as hell!' Pico was tempted to comment on it but didn't want to come across as rude so all he did was thank Whitty. Hex on the other hand clapped his metallic claw hands, the metal making numerous "ting" sounds. "Great job Whitty!" Hex exclaimed before walking through the now open doorway. Whitty rubbed the back of his head, seeming a little embarrassed. Pico noticed Whitty's cheeks were slightly glowing orange. Was that how he blushed? "Err.. Thanks. It's nothing." Whitty had to lean down in order to fit through the doorway, Pico walked in after him.

The three of them spread out a bit to investigate the remains of the restaurant. Pico honestly thought it was depressing to look at. This had once been a peaceful place to take your loved ones to and enjoy food. Now it was just a husk of its former glory. An ashy, decrepit ruin. After a few minutes, they found nothing and decided to leave. Pico felt bad for wasting time in this old building, but he was glad the others were still willing to help. The trio decided to keep looking around the neighborhood, continuing their search for Boyfriend.

…

Hours. They had been searching for hours, and there was still no sign of Boyfriend anywhere. Pico felt his legs getting sore. He hadn't walked so much without stopping in a long time. Hex seemed unfazed, but maybe that was because robots couldn't get sore muscles. Whitty seemed a little tired, but didn't show signs of really slowing down. Pico really wanted to just power through it and be helpful, but his legs were in agony. He needed to sit down. It didn't help that it was past noon and he hadn't eaten much that day. "Hey guys. I need to sit down for a bit, my legs are killing me." Pico admitted, hopong the others would be cool about it. "Okay, let's take a break. We've been doing this all day." Whitty agreed. Hex noticed a bench in the distance. "Why don't you rest over there?" The robot offered, and the other boys agreed. The bench was a bit tall, Pico had to hop on to it. Whitty on the other hand had no such trouble, being the vertically-blessed giant he was. Pico was a little jealous. Pico let out a sigh. "Where the hell is that blue-haired dumbass?" Pico asked rhetorically, he was getting frustrated with this. He was worried, tired, and felt lost. He thought he knew Bf well, but he didn't know him well enough to predict this. "I wish I knew." Whitty added, sounding worried as well. Pico was thinking about what to say when his stomach growled loudly.

"Hungry, huh?" Whitty chuckled. "Fuck yes, I'm starving." Pico replied. "You know what? I'm gonna get lunch. You hungry?" Pico asked, standing up despite his legs begging him not to. "I'm always hungry, sure." Whitty chuckled again. "I'm never hungry!" Hex happily chirped. That time Pico chuckled. "Well, you could still come with us, even if you don't eat anything." Pico offered. "Thank you friend!" Hex smiled. "Cool." Pico gave a thumbs up. "So… where are we going?" Whitty asked, tilting his head a bit. He stood up, ready to follow Pico. "First to my car. Then I'll drive us to a restaurant or something." Pico explained, beginning to walk towards said vehicle. "Just a heads up, I parked a bit far, but it should only take, like, 20 minutes to get there." Pico warned, knowing the others (or at least Whitty) were tired as well. "No problem friend! Lead the way!" Hex declared enthusiastically. Whitty just shrugged and said "We've been walking for hours, 's not like 20 minutes will kill us." And just like that, they were off.

…

Pico, as promised, drove the three of them to a small diner that wasn't too far away. It was thankfully in a nicer neighborhood. The three sat together at a booth table near the back. Hex had powered off to regain some energy. More or less leaving Whitty and Pico alone.

"Hey, lunch is on me, k?" Pico stated. He had been paid generously on his last job, so he wasn't worried about meal prices. Whitty seemed caught off guard. "Uh, y-you don't have to do that-" "I insist." Pico bluntly interjected. Whitty again, tried to decline. "I shouldn't- you don't need to do that, really." Whitty stammered a bit. Pico doubled down on it. "I'm not budging on this man." Whitty tilted his head to the side curiously, but still seemed slightly flustered. "Why are you so persistent in paying for both of us?" Whitty asked. Pico shrugged. "I just want to thank you for all your help today. I've been stressed out trying to figure out where B is and I really appreciate you helping us out." Pico said earnestly, he was still really worried about Boyfriend. "I.. You're welcome. I'm not gonna lie, I care about him, and I'm worried for the guy. Last time I saw him, he seemed off." Whitty confessed, rubbing the back of his head. Pico's curiosity piqued a bit. "Off? In what wa-" ''Hello boys! Can I get you something to drink?" Pico was suddenly interrupted by their waitress. "Oh. Right. We should probably order something haha." Pico joked, chuckling a bit. "I'll take a Coke. What about you Whitty?" Pico asked, gesturing towards the taller male. "I'd just like water, please." Whitty replied, the waitress wrote their drink orders. "Okay. Are you ready to order your meals as well?" She asked sweetly. "I think we need a few minutes." Admitted Pico. "Okay, I'll give you some time to think about it and will be back with your drinks in a bit, okay?" Whitty and Pico politely thanked her and looked at their menus.

"What're you thinking of ordering?" Pico asked, he wondered what kind of food Whitty enjoyed. "I don't know. I'm still surprised that you're paying for both of us." Whitty responded unsurely. "It's all good man. I got it" Pico gave a reassuring smile. "I just want to warn you that I eat a LOT. I'm not exactly cheap to feed." Whitty warned, embarrassed. Pico chuckled, "I'm not exactly peckish, either." "I really mean it, Pico. I eat more than humans do." Whitty once again gave a disclaimer to Pico. "And I really mean it when I say I'll cover it. Just get what you want." Pico stated adamantly.

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"..."

"Are you sure?"

"Whitty if you ask me that again I'm gonna smack the shit out of you."

(To be continued…)

(I wanted to write more but this is long so I'm gonna break it into two chapters. The next one is gonna have more angst so I wanted to end this one on a bit of a lighter note

#fnf #friday night funkin #cursed! bf au #cursed!bf #fnf pico #fnf whitty #fnf hex #fnf girlfriend #fnf boyfriend #bombico #bf x pico #pico x whitty #if you squint #fanfic #two shot #where have you been?

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