#yknow ​live the high life after living too much of the high life too fast

[sandsucks]

i miss my house (has been away for 2 days)

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been getting withdrawals from not making random worldbuilding characters that don’t matter to the actual plot. Anyways meet 60 👍

[unicorn-gallerexy]

Howdy, I totally mean to post more and didn't do any of that but then i got stuck with this idea and getting it out so here ya go, i want it out my face. There will be part 2, but i need a break bc this too so long and is longer than i wanted it. Only mildly proofread, rada rada, yknow the drill

Word count: 12.7K (i managed to hit the end of like 3 keep notes, i ain't ever done that)

CW: (technical) Homewrecker!Atsumu x Wife! Reader, smut, (kinda/justified) cheating, manipulation and mild threats (not from Atsumu), open marriage (you weren't vibing with it), trash treatment from husband, Long af, Atsumu being mad bc wtf is up with your husband?

One for Another

When your husband asked his question, excited just after coming home, you thought you couldn't hear. Or maybe it was that you didn't understand?

Either way, you asked him to repeat himself.

"I want to open our relationship. It sounds like a good idea, yeah?" He smiles, like there's nothing wrong with his sudden asking, and the look you give him is blank before it obviously reads upset.

"Why?" You steady your voice a lot easier than you steady your mind. You were hurt, this was so out of the blue. Yes, he had voiced a bit of an issue with your extra few pounds, or how you didn't dress up more often, or how you didn't have as much sex anymore (which was more his fault but he blamed you and the weight you put on) but you were working in it. You started working out in your own home because he was insistent that other people, like his coworkers, could see you let yourself go. You worked on being consistent with skincare and wearing more clothes that flattered you. You were actually looking quite a bit better than you had before. At least you and your friends thought so...

"Because it's a great idea?" He says it so easy as if you should be understanding. Seeing as you don't look pleased, his smile drops and he heaves a sigh so heavy at the thought of explaining himself. "Look you and i haven't... Been on the same page for a while. You and I just aren't matching up right now, so i figured it would be good to open the relationship so we can fill in those gaps."

"What gaps? I've been working on myself for damn near two months now, solely because you asked. What am i not doing for you?"

"Jesus Christ, this isn't about you. It's about us being happy, and im not happy. Im also not just trying to leave you high and dry but im sure you're not happy either." He says the part about you not being happy as if it doesn't matter to him. His emphasis was on him not being happy, and the part of not leaving you sounded more like a chore than a willful choice.

He swept you off your feet and promised a life a comfort. He was working on a promotion, he complimented you regularly and the sex wasn't bad at all. You fell for his charm easy, and he seemingly fell for you just as hard. After a few years, he asked you to marry him and made it known you could depend on him completely. Your job was basically down the drain by the time the wedding happened due to higher positions deciding the right way didn't make them enough money fast enough. He said you could trust him to take care of you, that he'd keep you happy and comfy, that he didn't mind a housewife for a while. You let yourself fall into that role, it wasn't hard. The house he bought was sizeable but not too big, the chore list was never too long and you did indeed live comfortably.

Over time, through his several promotions to an executive seat, you moved into bigger and better, all while he coaxed you into being his lovely little housewife and homemaker. Anytime you talked of going back, he'd mention how the job market wasn't the best, reports of customers abusing staff locally, rumors he "heard" here or there about owners and managers of places you were looking into, and always mentioning how you complained of every job you had. How you hated working, but how you were basically just taking care of yourself and he was taking care of you by working and giving you a card of his he didn't need to keep track of.

This was more temporary than you thought it was.

In the last two promotions, he had been given an assistant that always seemed a little too close for comfort. If you ever brought it up, he'd only mention how he married you and how she worked for him, so he couldn't be cheating on you. He blamed your insecurities and said you were forcing your own self doubt on him, and how that wasn't fair. At first the responses seemed loving, in their own way, before they turned angry. He'd shout about you being insecure, how you were trying to accuse him of things you had no proof of. He'd leave the house and even when he came back, he rarely ever apologized. He'd simply place more money onto the card and talk to you as he normally would. He pretended to care with a kiss on the forehead and half holding you in bed every so often.

That didn't stop him from pointing out your mounting flaws over time. It didn't stop him from refusing any sort of advances you made, day off or not. Didn't stop him not inviting you to company events as he had in the past and instead saying he was going with *her instead because "family isn't invited this time around" as if there weren't pictures posted later of his coworkers with their wives who you know don't work for the company at the same event.

You would've left a long time ago, really. But he wasn't wrong in saying you were insecure. Or that he'd leave you high and dry. He managed to manipulate you into not having a job for years, which doesn't look the greatest when applying for new ones, which created your dependency on him for financial reasons but he also had preyed on the parts of yourself you couldn't stand, made you feel like he and he alone loved you, like no one else would or could love you. You defended his words when your friends brought up concern by citing that he was right, as no one had really come up to you to flirt or asked you out prior to him so there wasn't really much competition for you. And, at the time, he at least liked you.

All for it to be thrown back in your face now. The waves of realization hit like you're in a losing boxing match. You feel your eyes burn but refuse to let any tears fall. He, unfortunate as it may be, can still read you at least a little. He comes and wraps his arms around you in a hug that makes you feel slimy, but you don't pull away as there's no where else to go really. "Listen baby, this isn't just a good thing for me. It's a good decision for both of us. I'm not giving you what you want, you aren't giving me what i want, don't you think it's better to find those things in other people and still have each other to come home to? At least give it a shot." He insists. It's obvious to you now, he doesn't care about you finding someone, only about him being allowed to do as he wants without being called a name that fits.

Part of you want to ask, but you figure you won't get answers if you do. You feel backed into a corner with no real way to lash out. So, you give a reluctant and strained yes, giving in to your defeat in hopes it hurts a little less. He kiss the back of your head and quickly slips away from you, grabbing his keys and saying something about being back later before slipping out of the door. You hear it lock, you hear the car start and drive off, and looking at the time on the clock in the stove behind you, it now reads 7:38pm. You could swear he turned his head to look at it when he was behind you.

The weekend comes in shortly after, he says he's going on a trip and you don't bother to ask where to or when he'll be back. You're already distant and its only been a few days, not that he cares at all. He packs and leaves in a hurry, only sending a text of "I love you" about an hour later. You've yet to tell anyone, feeling overwhelmed with shame and stupidity at not seeing any signs earlier on to avoid this. Or maybe because you feel ashamed that you couldn't keep your husband satisfied? That he was seduced by someone you'd consider younger and prettier than you'll ever be. You're not that old, nor are you bad looking but that's not how you see it. Your eyes only seem to find more and more inadequacies each time you look into a mirror. From the bags darkening under your eyes to your hair becoming more tangled with your lack of care, from the flaring breakouts across your face from stress and ditching your routine to the weight you worked off coming back with friends because you wallow on the couch and dropped your workout routine.

What was the point?

You had nothing else to work towards. Sure you barely looked different from before him, and if you got back into all of it, you'd look basically the same as you did then, maybe a bit better, but what would be the point? No one wanted you before he did, he literally had no competition for your affection or attention. The only thing that's changed that you can't undo is the passing of time. Sure, in the grand scheme of things you really weren't that much older than you were then but, if no one wanted you then, who would want you now?

You couldn't give an answer, and thus your brain concluded with: no one.

You eventually wind up inviting friends over about 2 weeks into his trip and, not having heard from you for longer, they jump at the chance to see you. When they arrive, and you answer the door, disheveled in sweats, they can see that you're not holding up well and the sweet smiles and loud hi's drop. Being asked what's wrong sets off the water works, not having cried in or out of his presence made the dam behind your eyes too full, and concerned friendly voices opened the gates. You step aside to let them in and they immediately hug you, telling you to calm down enough to at least tell them what's wrong but the sobs are violent, shaking your body completely and taking the strength from your legs. They guide you to the couch, sit at your sides and tell you to cry it out, seeing as every time you try and speak, it's unintelligible.

When you manage to calm yourself enough in your friends arms, you don't lift your gaze from the floor, explaining why you haven't answered calls or texts and why you just spent a literal hour crying into them. To say their furious is an understatement. They shout question after question, most at how he could do this and feel nothing. You cry into your hands, and that's when they calm down, starting to throw suggestions, the first being divorce. You remind them of how he basically holds all your financials, your place to live, and a solid position in his company. Your friends sigh as they realize that leaving, at least now, isn't a real option. After a moment of quiet thinking, and soft sniffles, your first best friend grabs you by both shoulders with a smile. "Open relationship, right? That means you can also do what you want. We can get you back on track with all your routines and go out, take you with us on singles night!" She's beaming even if you don't look the most into the idea, your other best friend seeming to voice your thoughts for you.

"As if he'll actually let her have another relationship outside of him with no repercussions. Be real, May. He'd flip his shit because he just wanted to go out and fuck anything that breathes without being called a cheater" May pouts, having already thought of that in a more minor capacity.

"I figured that, Kura. We don't have to tell him shit. He's not even being that discreet about it, with the 2 of us helping her out, he'll never know." She leans to speak over your shoulder to Kura before looking back at you with soft, loving, hopeful eyes that you feel you haven't experienced in a while. "Maybe we can actually find you a real man who'll treat you right and wont do this shit. You don't deserve to just wallow here by your self." Her hands cup your face as she awaits an answer and you shake your head in her hands.

"No one wanted me before, May. Who's gonna want me now? I'm older and-"

"Still hot, at least when you're not distressed." Kura says from behind you, smiling with some sort of support for the plan. You shake your head as May keeps hold of you.

"Okay but everything is here, workout equipment and-"

"We'll take you to the gym with us! Kura has been wanting to get in there for a while but she keeps bailing on me. I'll take you two with me and then we're all obligated to go. We'll go on spa days, I'll call you so you don't have to acknowledge him while you do your routine here. Trust me, thought out much more than you think." May beams, Kura chiming in about possibly just moving rooms so you have space if you haven't already. Both paw at you and basically beg, saying it'll at least be good just to get out for a little while every day even if you aren't man hunting. You tear up again, and when asked why, you say you thought they'd me mad at you, tell you i told you so or something because you didn't listen when they spoke up. You're given the warmest embrace you've had in a minute as they tell you it's not your fault, it's his. He preyed on you, just to throw you away for nothing substantial. You cry, and say ok, agreeing to go with them and along with their plan, causing them both so squeal with joy before May goes to bolt upstairs.

"Where are you going?" You sniffle, caught in Kura's arms as you look up the stairs.

"To run you a proper bath. We're having an at home spa night now. You need it." She scrunches her nose in the way that makes you laugh and knowing you still have some happiness makes them happy.

The night goes on as they wish, both helping wash your hair and your face, saying you need a break as they pamper you and do their best to drive away the sadness in your heart, or at least distract from it. They help you move things into another room, opting to watch terrible B and latter alphabet movies, doing your face routines together and eating proper food since you've seen gorging on junk food for a while now. They opt to stay over for a few days when you tell them your husband wont be home for another 3 weeks. Both girls help you clean up, do laundry, and essentially reset your home to brinf back a real sense of normalcy. May sits and picks out a couple gym appropriate outfits, laying them on top of the dresser, before they leave you a couple days before your husband is supposed to be back. They kiss your forehead, hug you tight and tell you the day of a group gym trip so you look forward to it. Kura notes she wont back out if you don't, putting a sense of responsibility on you to ensure you don't bail last minute.

When your husband comes back, he finds you lounging about in the other room, only to ask a question you truly dreaded hearing. "Hey, I can still have the bedroom to myself for a bit right?" Behind the doorway, at his side you can see another shadow in the sunlight that bathes the house and a feminine giggle from behind him. You simply wave him off, a half hearted mumble sending him on his way to the bedroom, girl in tow. You hear the door shut, lock clicking into place as you curl into yourself and text your friends. They send you texts to just forget about it as much as possible, you telling them it's hard when you can hear them through the walls and know he feels no sense of remorse.

That was what killed you most, the fact he was doing it all and seemed to feel nothing for you. No remorse, no guilt or shame, not even the tiniest bit of pity even if it would piss you off. You realized quick he didn't feel anything negative about it, but that didn't mean it didn't suck to have such a blatant display of what you could only feel was disrespect. Then again, you're surprised it didn't happen earlier.

Your affluent living situation meant a very nice, expensive gym wasn't too far away. May and Kura didn't live in the expensive part of the city but they had good jobs and kept up with the monthly payment plan that even you and your more frugal upbringing balked at when you got the sign up paper at the desk. Once paying the overcharged fee and getting your membership card, May lead you and Kura around to show you the facilities the gym had to offer and blabbed about the famous and influential people she's seen in passing from actors to local businessmen to athletes. Kura and you keep up as she taps your arm for your attention. "I'm kinda starting to regret coming with May." She whispered, no malice behind as you nod and hum in agreement.

You feel exposed even if your fully clothed. The sports bra and crop you normally wear to workout at home suddenly feeling to short to be worn outside (even if you've done so a million times) and the yoga shorts holding your ass nicely feeling all too tight to be worn in public. You can't help the shy stance you keep as May guides you past a the sauna, pool, and cryo rooms towards the side of the building, keeping one arm wrapped around yourself and the other down at your side. Kura is dressed in similar pants, but her top is a loose cotton shirt you wish you'd gone for instead. May, being the one used to being here, is in a good sports bra and yoga shorts due to the weather. Once her tour is over, she guides you into the large workout room, complete with just about any and every machine you'd need for every part of your body. You wanna vomit.

You know you left to get away from your currently shitty home life but now you actually kinda regret coming. May turns with a big smile that falls quick when she takes note of yours and Kura's faces. She keeps hopeful, taking you both by the hands over to the treadmills that face out of the window. "We can start here so that you two can get a bit more comfy, yea?" You both nod and hop on, the 3 of you starting at the same pace and making mild small talk.

After you and Kura seem to loosen up, noted by you finally dropping your arm from around yourself, May takes the opportunity to switch it up and get you guys through some stretches. From there, it's basically downhill. May is fit, not annoying about it and it shows. She puts you and Kura to your limits and genuinely encourages you the entire time in such a way that's hard to be mad at. You're at it for hours until the final stretch for your cool down when she beams "And we're done! That was fun, wasn't it?"

"I regret.. My decision." Kura pants.

"Fun isn't what id give it but i mean..." You trail off with a weak wave of your hand on the floor next to Kura as May hops up to drag you both down the hall and to the sauna. When you both express dismay over the sound of sitting in a hot, moist room on a hot day after being worked to near death, May assures you that you'll just both feel so much better after and if you're so inclined, she'll take you to the actual pool for a bit after. You and Kura grimace at the thought of being more openly exposed than you already are at one another as you follow May and say you'll both pass on that part today.

Out of clothes, wrapped in towels, May hands off your clothing to one do the workers before noting to you as they leave that they're gonna wash them. You and Kura share a surprised look at her as she pushes you both into the (thankfully) empty sauna. She does everything to set it up and soon enough the room is hot and steamy, her eyes fixing to continuously check on you two as you close your eyes and drop your head to relax in the warm, wet heat. "So how long can we be expected to be alone in here?" Kura asks, scooting to put just a bit more distance between you two which you're thankful for.

"With how long we've worked out, not too much longer. But we don't have to leave or anything like that. We can basically stay in here for as long as we want, though it is recommended to leave at some point to prevent overheating." She sighs.

"With how much we have to pay for a monthly membership, we better be able to stay in here for as long as we want." You complain, Kura letting out a small laugh as she lays her head against the wall. She and May look at you, your head still down and eyes still closed.

"Black card for your thoughts, lovely?" Kura mutters, you shake your head before answering.

"Just thinking about home, unfortunately. Thinkin about how i let it get here honestly." Kura pushes your arm and you look at your friends, both sets of eyes stern but full of care as they note him and whatever he's doing isn't worth any more of tour head space. Kura throwing the idea to take him for what he's useful for and buy everyone lunch after, naming off pricy places your younger self could only dream of going. You laugh at her, especially as may joins in with the new ultra luxury bakery that just opened up and is known to be pure Instagram fodder and not actually good baked goods. Just as you near snort with laughter at their suggestions, about to cut in with something cheaper and actually good, the door opens and causes you three to scoot a bit closer to one another in a corner and 4 actually fairly familiar faces trail in, shortly followed by a duo that you can tell aren't with the prior 4. Your husband's work and you being his previous arm candy piece at work events let you passionately shake hands with plenty of elites, faces recognizable to you easy. The 4 who are making conversation amongst themselves are athletes, specifically the (debatably) most popular members of the team. Koutarou Bokuto, Shoyo Hinata, Kiyoomi Sakusa, and Atsumu Miya.

The other 2 are businessmen that you've seen at damn near every single even you went to with your husband, higher ups from a company his worked with. They were always hitting you in the worst way so your nose unconsciously crinkles before you turn to Kura and May. You aren't too surprised, May did say plenty of the wealthy who live close by here and even some who don't come to this gym just because of how nice and/or exclusive it is. You hope somewhere inside yourself that the duo doesn't notice you at all, as that would help the first day back to a workout routine all the better.

Of course, you cant ever have what you want. The universe curses you by making one of the idiot duo loudly recognize your left shoulder tattoo of a chubby kitten playing with stars from various franchises, like animal crossing fragments and Rosalina's stars from Mario games. "Oh shit! I remember that dumb little tattoo! Y/n, how have you been babe?" He says. You roll your eyes hard enough to hurt as you feel every pair of eyes in this small room land on you. You force a smile and turn your head, giving a strained hi and fine. He and his friend start to bombard you with questions at your minor acknowledgement. Your husband, what he's been up to and things like that. You answer most, half with lies as Kura leans over your back and tells them to call him if they've got "such a hard on for him" instead of harassing you.

Kura has taken on most of your lost bite while you work to get it back, and you find yourself plenty thankful for it. You don't miss the small snorts of laughter from the other side of sauna and neither do the duo on the other side of you. Not liking to feel any sort of embarrassment, and somehow deciding that the wife of their business colleague is their prime target, the second one opens his mouth with venom. "You know Y/n, i have friends who work with your husband. We haven't seen you at any of the company get togethers anymore, yknow? But we have seen him with this real pretty dame on his arm. You make him get a replacement so you don't have to be there or what?" They way you stiffen is visible and your brain short circuts on what to do next for a half second. Both have this smug smile on their face as everyone looks wide eyed at the two, and they look at you.

You stand, eyes lifting from the ground where you had planted them during talking to them initially. "The fact you two are so mad because you cant even get escorts to sleep with you, much less me when im married so you go around saying shit like that is honestly pathetic." Your hand slaps the one who opened his mouth before you can rethink it, turning on your heels to leave at you hear not just your friends but the other men in the room giving them quite the reprimanding as you float your way to where you can pick up your freshly washed clothes. You must've been in there for longer than you thought, as they're set out with your membership card on top to show ownership. You're quick to change as you hear voices outside looking for you. You step out and toss the towel into the bin they have out for them and your friends rush to your side and try to comfort you but you simply tell them to get dressed so you can go and eat.

They're dressed in a flash and following you out the front door, you never noticing the sets of eyes that manage to trail your form as you storm out with your friends hot on your ass, wiping your eyes. Once in the car, there's a beat of silence as they seem to try and find what would be the rihht thing to say after that. What do they say? Your tears don't wait, a uncontrolled sob escaping you before your hand covers your mouth to hold back the rest of the noise as you cry. He's so brazen about it, of course other people notice but the last thing you wanted was to be confronted with it anywhere else. You're hugged from two directions, hands rubbing your back and arms to soothe you as May says she wont blame you for bailing after that. You shake your head, taking deep breaths to calm yourself and taking the tissue Kura passes you from her bag to wipe your eyes and blow your nose before you close your eyes. Clearing your throat, you croak. "I'm still going to do it... I'm not gonna let this stop me... Even if it sucks..." Kura pats you on the back, saying she'll still be with you and May clapping at you not letting it throw you down without a fight.

You get to pick lunch. A nice sit down hot pot spot that's having a slow day, so they wave the typical time limit they have and sit you three in a cozy booth. You loose track of time, your friends being efficient in distracting your mind from the day's sour turn, laughing and eating to replenish some energy. You three can see the door, and have made a game of betting (without money of course) on if the groups and couples who come in have ever actually been to a hot pot place or if they came in because they think it's "exotic". It's a dumb little game that results in fun banter. Lo and behold, the bell advice the door dings again and in walk... The same 4 athletes who basically saw you getting outted as being cheated on. The MSBY black jackles, with the rest of the team in tow. The owner working the register guides them to the large booth in the opposite corner from you and your friends, who ask if you wanna go after seeing the 4 familiar faces. You shake your head, saying you're having fun and betting that the extra shy, probable assistant, hasn't been to hot pot before as you slip a leafy green veggie in your mouth. You're friends smile and agree with you're bet, and you let your night continue.

The three of you fall easy back into yourselves as the waiter comes to top up your broth for the 3rd time, never noticing the pair of eyes that seem to linger along your form here and there. You don't even notice how the same eyes trail you once again as you leave out with your friends, looking considerably happier than when you left the gym. He knows he shouldn't be looking so hard, but he just cant seem to understand. Why would a man who married you not want you or not want to show you off?

You keep to your word and go back three days later, muscles sore the day after from how hard May worked you both but you return nonetheless to join her again as she says you'll both get used to it and she'll keep the routine the same for a while to help speed up that process. She beams at both of your forlorned faces as she makes you both get down on the floor for your stretches.

She keeps to her word, and you get back into your prior habits as your friends remind you that self care shouldn't be tied to the scumbag you live with as they have now deemed him. Your days with them are your highlights, whether it's just lunch and the gym or if they come over to insult your husband in the guest room you've moved into. Your gym trips are a bit better for your mental health tho, having made a couple of friends through May's bubbly personal skills and being away from your husband's revolving door of women. You tend to avoid anyone who has more consistent contact with your husband or his job to avoid any more incidents like your first day and that seems to do you well, though you've of course run into several big names that have worked with his company or him once or twice. You don't mind those, especially since some are constant faces anytime you go to be whipped into shape by May.

Some of the more consistent faces you see are those of Athletes, specifically coming across the MSBY team again and again. The 4 who initially witnessed your sauna incident either didn't remember it or simply never seemed to show they did, none giving you any odd looks or pitied glances any time your eyes seemed to catch theirs in passing. You were always the first to turn away, never catching on to the way one of them seemed to stare. At least not at first. The more often you came, the more you saw them and vice versa. The more you saw them, the more he could stare. The more he could stare, the more you seemed to catch him and while he would avert his gaze elsewhere or focus of the weight in his hands, he'd still eventually find a way to stare at you again all whilst taking pride in the way you seemed to fluster under his gaze. That man was Atsumu Miya.

Of course, his blatant "eye fucking" as Sakusa would call it didn't go unnoticed by the others, Bokuto and Hinata scolding him for essentially hitting on a married woman. When away from other who knew nothing about the information they had heard in the sauna, Atsumu defends himself. "He's cheatin on 'er anyways and i haven't even said anything. Why can't i look?" The others always reply that it's not the point.

"They might be trying to work it out?" Hinata mutters, making all of them turn their nose and Atsumu respond with a "Fuckin hope not." The boys were raised on better teachings so, even if they were reprimanding their friend for his borderline inappropriate behavior, they still don't like the idea of some poor, pretty girl "working things out" with a man that obviously doesn't care about her. Atsumu's typical defense doesn't hold up for long though. As time passes, the more he sees you, the more he tries to find ways to talk to you. From bringing you and your friends water to engage in small talk under the guise of being kind before he's called back to managing to catch you and your friends as you're about to leave some other amenity after making sure he worked out for just a bit longer, saying it was to not slack close to a game, to be sure he caught you at the tail end of your swim or sauna sit. Atsumu continues to argue that there's nothing wrong with making small talk or incidentally running into someone in a shared public space.

"You don't even know what incidentally means, homewrecker." Sakusa shoots, Atsumu having an aghast expression at the word. Though, with more time and the tiny tidbits of info he learns about you personally, the more the insult seems to not matter. You're a nice convo partner, and he's just being nice, right?

Of course, you have other obligations to attend to aside from the gym. You know he still expects you to clean the house, that damn bedroom you can't find it in yourself to even look at much less sleep in anymore included, and make him (and guests he brings) food. You'd refuse if he didn't opt for the coercive method of throwing the fact you don't have a job right now in your face, guests there or not. You just go with it at this point to avoid talking to him, moving away or giving minimal acknowledgement when he tries to soothe you with empty hugs and worthless words. So the supermarket is your other safe haven. No hard work, no husband or women he's fucking, no real stress aside from not finding something you're craving. Crossing into the refrigerated section causes a shiver, eyes scanning over price tags you've never gotten used to looking at. As you reach out for a pack of chicken with a decent tag, a stronger hand brushes in front of your to cross in the other direction. Looking up reveals a familiar blonde headed athlete who seems to beam at seeing you, as if he didn't see you a couple aisles ago.

"Hey, been a couple days. How ya been?" He asks, taking his hand away and gesturing for you to grab your thing first.

"Been alright, resting up before my May drags us back. You?" Conversation comes easy, he's noticed you're kinda quiet so he takes the lead in asking questions and talking about his own things. He's careful, even subconsciously, about asking certain questions as to not put you in a sour mood. You ask him the occasional question as he seems to follow you around, noting he doesn't have anything else to do except his own personal grocery trip, like about his games and team. He has no issue answering, giving the occasional jab at them and joking with you to make you giggle behind your hand as you both float around the store until you both have to check out. When he realizes that the window is closing on the most in depth conversation he's ever had with you, he spings an invitation as you both exit the store. "Umm... Hey, do you maybe wanna come over to mine later? To keep talking? I think you're actually pretty interesting." He says quickly, trying to make sure you don't think what he feels you are.

You smile, laughing softly. "Your reputation is starting to sound a bit more true. You always invite girls over to 'talk' after you grocery shop with them?" He smiles and shakes his head, free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Nah, just you." He flirts, and liking the feel of the missing male attention, you agree. He comes and tells you where his place is, and upon looking at it typed out, you realize that it's actually not far from where you and him live. Like, just a bit farther, just almost out of sight due to the curve, down the long street that your house sits at. You can walk to his house. When you tell him as much, he laughs. "Small world, huh? I'll leave the door open then." He shoots you a wink before heading on his way to his car ad you do yours.

When you get home, you don't speak to your husband. This is now normal. You simply put away the groceries you bought save for what you cook after. Once you've rushed through making a meal you have no real intentions of eating, you simply shoot him an "I'm heading out." Before slipping out of the door and taking a slow, leisurely stroll down to Atsumu's place. It takes about 20 minutes at that pace, and once in front of the door, you get butterflies. That old familiar flutter in the base of your tummy makes you hesitate to knock but you're a big girl, so you reach your hand up to give a few solid pounds to the heavy door. His place is nice, you've seen every house in the neighborhood at least once but you never really knew who lived in them. You were already housewife status before you moved here so you rarely came outside or interacted with any neighbors except next door and directly across the street.

The door opens with the slightly sticky sound of the seal meant to keep the outside out, and in the way of your view into the luxury home stands a broad chest. Your eyes get stuck for a half second before they trail up to his face, bright smile already splayed across his face. "Well howdy neighbor." You've heard him speak so the accent wasn't low on you but there sure are some words that really bring it out. You bow your head with your greeting and he turns himself to the side to let you in. "What took so long? I was waitin for ya." He asks jokingly, and you smile as you tell him about having to cook before you left because if you didn't do it, who would? He hears how lighthearted you make it sound, and he swallows the frown before it gets to appear on his face. You're keeping your head high to cope and it makes him wanna gag as his eyes trail up you, seeing no real flaw as to why some man wouldn't wanna be with you. He thinks you're real pretty, gorgeous even. You're also smart, funny and pretty quick witted when your head's not in the clouds. He knows it's a little odd to feel so strongly for the situation of a woman you just met, but his mama taught him so much better than that so when confronted with shit like this, it's hard to fathom. Even more so when the subject of it is right in front of him, oh so beautiful with your-

"Atsumu? Earth to pro athlete, need you back down here, big guy. Atsumu?" Shit. He had zoned out looking at you as you spoke so when he shakes his head and politely asks you to repeat the last thing you said, he feels awful. You seen a little too used to it as you shrug it off, which he feels makes it worse, and ask again. "I said: Did you have a plan when you invited me over or were you just gonna go with the flow and see what happens?" You stand with your hands behind your back so to not touch anything, and he struggles with his mind wandering as he motions for you to sit down and quickly jogs into his kitchen.

"I mean, we had a pretty nice time talking at the grocery store so i figured we could just pick up where we left off." He calls before coming to set a glass of lemonade down in front of you on the coffee table. "And if you stay long enough, i wouldn't mind you joining me for dinner?" It comes out like a question, you've been here for all of 2 minutes max and he's already inviting you to stay longer. He's so eager in a way you cant help but giggle and agree. You watch as he sits on the other side of the couch before starting to engage you in some bit of conversation from before. What you pick up on is that he constantly tries to get you to talk more and he pays actual attention to what you say. Anytime you quiet down out of habit, he asks you another question. The conversation hops from life experiences, to vacations, to upbringings. Anything to get you to talk to him more, anything to learn as much as possible about you, anything to make you smile and giggle like he's getting so enamored with.

He can't keep convincing himself that he's just being nice.

Not as he moves just a bit closer every time he sits back down from refilling your drinks. Not as he keeps trailing his eyes up and down your form when you laugh hard enough to close your eyes. Not when he has to fend off the mild shutter that slides up his back at certain words you say. Not as he continues to mentally say you're basically in the right if you were to do something outside of your marriage, and how he'd offer himself up in a heartbeat despite the guilt he'd been raised to have. Maybe if he finds out just a bit more about your garbage life partner, he can get rid of all the guilt he has. So he asks as you sip at the wine he offered up along with dinner, citing he's not as good as his brother in the kitchen but he does know a bit.

"Hey, i understand if it's still kinda touchy and you really don't have to answer if you don't wanna but, im just having a hard time wrapping my head 'round it." He starts, and your stomach turns as you know what he's gonna ask. But you sigh and down the rest of the glass, feeling It's better to get it out there now rather than feel like you're manipulating the situation later. The feeling of being wanted for a bit was nice while it lasted though. You set the glass down next to your empty plate and turn to face him, questioning when he went from the other side of the couch to only a couple inches away, motioning for him to continue. He ponders on how to say it without seeming insensitive before he sighs and just blurts it out. "Why the hell is your husband cheating on you? I genuinely can't understand." He stops himself before he goes on a tangent about how pretty you are or how nice you are or how he'd treat you plenty better.

You feel your eyes burn. You thought you'd be over it by now but maybe you had just pushed the thoughts away, far enough that it was basically outta sight, outta mind. You blink quickly to get rid of the tears and once Astumu catches the glossy look, he shakes his head. He opens his mouth to tell you to forget about him asking but you out your hand up to stop him. He fears you might just up and walk out, looking like a kicked puppy along with you as you take a deep breath to compose yourself. You open your eyes and put your hand down, speaking before he can. "He wanted an open relationship, so he's not actually cheating on me." Saying it feels gross, and if you took your eyes off the floor you'd see Atsumu with a face that agrees. Not because of the open relationship thing, because of how you phrased it.

"So you didn't want the open relationship?" He asks for clarification and though you and Atsumu don't know each other as well as you know your best friends, he's a comfortable presence that feels empathetic to you in a way, despite feeling like he's pitying you too but that's just your mind talking there. You shake your head, dropping it into your hands to rub away the tension that's building your temples.

"He sprung it on me out of no where, said i wasn't making him happy anymore. Saying i had 'let myself go' and whatnot. I was working on it, really. Working out at home, keeping up self care routines, trying to initiate even though that isn't normal for me. He just... Didn't want me anymore." You're quiet as you talk, a small sniffle in the middle of your statement tugs hard at his heart. Well now he can't possibly feel bad. He asks you about the dudes at the sauna the first time he saw you and lets you explain that they work with with your husband under a different company. "They've probably seen him with his pretty little coworker who he's been sleeping with. By the sound of it, they aren't the most discreet about it so it's just embarrassing for me. They're the types to get pissy when turned down. He rolls his eyes hard enough to hurt, feeling like his brain is throbbing in his skull over how dumb it sounds. Your husband, he colleagues, whatever whore he's screwing that most likely knew who you were and that the idiot was married. It gives the most sour ass milk taste to him.

"And what about you? Since he forced it, wouldn't it be good to get out and see someone?" He asks softly, particularly because he's yet to see you truly conversing with another man in the time he's been talking to you. He's also never heard you talk about anyone else, not that it would truly be any of his business but it just intrigues him. You simply shake your head again though.

"He's... He's the only man over ever been with. We met when i was young, got engaged and married pretty quick but i wasn't the prettiest thing in the group so he had no real competition. When that happened i kinda just stayed inside and didn't bother even after starting the working out thing with May again. I mean, if no one wanted me then, why would they now and I've just gotten older?" Your insecurities have shown before but Astumu's about to start asking some real serious questions about how your husband treats you if you think so low of yourself.

"So why not leave? I mean it's obvious he doesn't care 'bout ya, and you don't seem like the type to stick around for shit like this." He admits its a bit assumptive but he can read people pretty well, and he'd bet on this assumption for sure.

"He married me when i was young and kinda took over most things. Pre and post me leaving my job and agreeing to be his fulltime housewife. I kinda can't... At least not right now." You admit. Atsumu has genuinely never wanted the throttle a man so badly. He's basically holding you hostage so he cant look bad but is forcing decisions on you whether you like them or not so he can do as he wants. Yea, he definitely doesn't feel bad anymore.

"I want you." It's a simple statement but it has you whipping your head to look at him and the serious face he has that somehow also looks like he's bored almost.

"What?"

"You asked who'd want you since time has passed and stuff, right? Me. I do." Your eyes widen as he continues. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous to be honest. Inside and out. You're funny and sweet when you're comfortable, you've got a good heart and 's all bundled up in this lovely, lovely body o' yers." He starts to smile mid way through his declaration as he notices your dace get more and more flustered. His accent seems to get just a bit thicker as he talks faster towards the end, enthusiasm radiating from him as he closes that tiny 2 inch gap between you two on the couch so your thighs touch. You're shocked honestly. It felt like he liked you but your self doubt said it was just pity, but you also felt there was nothing wrong with being a bit delusional and taking what you could get from a nice man giving you attention. You stutter, trying to get something out about how you feel but he hold up his hands and leans back a bit, never scooting away from you though. "If ya don't feel that way about me, i understand even if it hurts a little. But I would love to show you how a proper man should be treating someone as beautiful as you." He's laying it on thick but you feel he's being honest about your ability to back out if you want.

You still can't manage to figure out the words you want to say to him. You don't really think you'd know where to start, being the way he didn't seem judgmental towards you or the fact he apparently had actual, genuine interest in you. So you hug him instead. He's surprised for a moment but quickly hugs you back, finding that you're so much softer, warmer than he expected this close. He nose catches whiffs of your soap and shampoo, you even smell gorgeous. And your husband didn't want this? Fucking idiot. You pull back after a while, just enough to look him in the eyes. "Thank you, but... You don't..." You start how you want, but you cant seem to find the correct way to finish. Atsumu understands from the way you avert your eyes, flustered and shy in a way he finds all too cute on you. He puts his hand under your chin to gently redirect your gaze back to his, confident smirk still splayed across his face. It's a reassuring look really, one that says he really does want to do what he said.

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I understand, but don't think that i don't want to. Because i really fucking do." His voice is low due to his proximity, leaning his forehead against yours as he searches for any sign of you pulling away or rejecting his advances. It's like a little game behind your eyes plays out before you opt to say fuck it and close the small gap between your mouths. He reciprocates immediately, moving his hand from your chin to the back of your head as your hand begin to wind themselves in his soft blonde locks. The kiss goes on for what makes your lungs feel like eternity, but your brain feel like mere seconds. When the burn in your chest is too much, you pull back and take a deep breath, letting the oxygen take your brain through thoughts of this really being a good idea. Your eyes scan Atsumu, from the lidded gaze to the slightly swollen lips to the heaving chest and from what your eyes take in, your brain says it's a great idea. I mean, if he's willing to give you what you're missing, why deny yourself?

He stands up and holds out his hand to you, letting you take it as you ask about where he's leading you to. "Well i did say i'd be proper bout it, right? Can't take you on the couch first time around, that comes later." You note how confidently he said later, as if he's assured a next time. And while normally you'd say that was a bit presumptuous of a man, you couldn't help but think of the kiss you shared and allow him to have his confidence. He smiles when you don't deny him too. He leads you to a room that's cleaner than what you'd expect from an athlete if you're honest. The room smells of lingering cologne and linen air freshner as he closes his door. He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his face into the crook of your neck to kiss and nip at the skin as you tilt tour head to give him more space. You giggle as he kisses at certain spots, whimpering when he finds that particular spot that has you slightly buckling in his grasp.

His hands play with the hem of your shirt and pants, gently tugging as he sucks and bites at the spot that has you depending on him more to help you stand. "You can still back out now, (y/n). I really don't-" you wind up snaking your hand back into his hair, turning your head to bring his mouth to yours.

"I want to, Atsumu. Please, lemme have this." The way you whine has his eyes rolling in a good way this time, gently pushing you to his bed before he opts for turning you toward him and tossing you on it. His grip firm as he halfheartedly flung you onto the soft sheets as if you weighed nothing and without a single complaint either. He's quick to crawl over you and place his lips back on yours, tongue slipping in before you can fight him on it. You don't fight with him too much for dominance, more so to just be playful. He takes it, sliding his hands higher under your shirt than before to touch your skin as you fingers dig into his shoulder. He takes time to pull away every so often to ask if he can remove some piece of clothing from you, seeming as if he truly couldn't get enough of you. First your shirt, then pants, then his own. He barely detached his body from yours as he stripped you or himself, wanting nothing more than the feel of your soft, pretty skin on his. When he inevitably did have to pull himself up onto his knees to take off your bra, he couldn't help but take in the sight in front of him.

You're underneath him, as he's wanted for a bit now, neck only slightly marked up from before, lips swollen and a little of the mixed saliva from him keeping your mouths together making Its way down your cheek from the corner of your mouth. Your chest is heaving from him giving you minimal time to breathe between kisses, and to top it off you're basically half naked, the pretty body he's seen clad in various workout clothes finally exposed properly for his eyes to drink in. His staring to you on the other hand, has you feeling self conscious. You take a breath and start to move to shield your body from him, crossing your legs and bringing one of your arms over your chest to hide. He quickly stops you, whining at you, gently smacking your hands and thighs to get you to move them. He settles himself properly between your thighs and moves to pin your hands above your head with one hand. "Don't hide, beautiful. 'M only staring cause i think you're pretty." He smiles at the flustered look that comes back across your face and trails his free hand over the too of your bra. "I can take the rest of it off, right?" He asks, eyes still glues to your chest.

You hum and nod, so he wastes no time before reaching under you to unhook the only thing keeping your chest from his mouth. He almost drools at the sight of them when he moves his other hand from your wrists to toss the garment to the floor. There's quiet fuck that slips from him as his eyes catch on your tits the same way yours did earlier, and under such admiration you can't really tell when, if ever, your husband looked at any part of you with such genuine hunger. If feels nice to be looked at like this, so you try not to let your hands fall from where they rest above your head. His hands smooth down your sides, gripping every so often at the soft flush under his fingers til he gets to the hem of your panties, pulling and letting them snap against your hip as you yelp. He's tempted to rip them in all honesty but decides against it, simply sliding them down and off you to the floor as his eyes rake up and down you to figure out where to start.

His hands reach for your chest, kneading your tits and watching how responsive you are to him tweaking and thumbing over your nipples. He takes in every tiny whimper and breathess noise you make before taking your left nipple into his mouth and moaning at the taste of your skin. Your hands come down then, rethreading through his hair and unconsciously pushing him just a bit more into your chest. They're more sensitive than he thought, and you seem to love the way he flicks the hardened bud with his tongue before he takes a teasing bite and pulls it with his teeth just a little. He's not one to show favoritism in the bedroom, so he swaps to lavish the other with the same attention, biting just a bit harder to get you to make more noise for him. It all has him rutting his still clothed cock against your center, the wetness quickly seeping through the thin fabric and driving him to take his open mouthed kisses down your torso, leaving marks here and there to show his pathing until he's kissing the top of your mound. You tug his hair and he lets his drunken gaze float up to yours, mouth still kissing around between your thighs.

"You... Don't have to, if you don't wanna... Just so you don't feel obligated or something..." His brows furrow as his mouth sticks to one spot just above your clit as he takes in what you just said. His foggy brain has a moment of realization when he sees that you aren't just flustered, but embarrassed. He sits up a bit more as you gulp and raises his eyebrow at you.

"Did that fuckwit tell you he didn't like eating pussy?" He asks so bluntly it makes you curl up a bit as you avert your gaze, hands stroking his head still.

"He said it wasn't his favorite part but he did it because it was expected so I'm just- ah!! Fuck!" You're abruptly cut off as Atsumu opts to dive head first to your center, tossing your legs over his shoulders and running his tongue from your hole to your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Atsumu eats pussy for his own enjoyment, for fun. Your husband had you at home all the time and didn't constantly want his face between your lovely thighs? He didn't want the warm soft earmuffs and the, to Atsumu, gentle pressure of you squeezing his head with them? Because to Sumu, this feels like heaven. The muffled squeals as he slides his tongue from lapping at your clit to fucking your slippery hole and nudging his nose against your clit to keep the cute little button stimulated have him rutting into his mattress. You're overwhelming his senses and he's in love with it, it's a contender for being his favorite part of it in competition with how you taste. One taste and he's actively trying to devour you, as if he hadn't eaten dinner maybe an hour or so ago.

His hands grip onto your plush thighs and encourage you to clamp them even harder than you are now around his head as you whine and keen under him. Your fingers tug at his hair as you halfway guide his mouth where you want him, also grinding your cunt against his face and breathlessly moaning everytime he hums in pleasure against you. He opens his eyes when he feels one of your hands leave his head and lets them trail up you see your head tossed into his pillows and the hand you freed from his locks grasping at your chest, kneading your breasts as he did earlier and he can't help the way he basically growls into you. "Atsumu~ mmphf! Fuck, Sumu!" Oh god if he wasn't determined to get you to cum from the dumb shit you told him earlier, he was now.

He keeps his grip on your thighs, sluring and lapping feverishly at your pretty pussy, making sounds you'd truly be embarrassed of if you could find yourself thinking straight. He lets you use his face, lets you tug and pull his hair in a way that would be damn near painful, if he could think straight either to, to let you throw yourself off that cliff. He's only focusing on the moans clawing their way from your throat, getting higher and higher in pitch until you feel like you're about to crush his skull between your thighs. You call his name over and over, louder and louder until you go rigid and squeal as he helps himself to your sweet release, guiding you through wave after wave of pleasure.

Once you begin to paw and push at his head, he pulls himself up to look down at you with a wolfish smile and drunken gaze. His chin and lips shine in the daylight that floods through his bedroom window, the subtle warmth that still enraptures you keeps you from being as embarrassed about the sight. He moves his hand to swipe your juices from his chin before placing those same fingers into his mouth and humming at the taste. "You're husband has absolutely no taste, does he?" You giggle and move to sit up, a hand reaching to trail down his abdomen to the hem of his boxers but are stopped short by him pushing you back down and crawling to blanket you with his body. He kisses you deeply, sharing the taste still on his tongue with you and swallowing the little whimpers you give.

"Are you not gonna let me reciprocate that?" You ask when he finally parts, moving to trail his mouth down your neck and shoulder as he shakes his head.

"Uh uh, at least not this time. Next time." He assures, and you laugh softly in his ear at his confident insistence on this not being a 1 time thing. It makes you giddy, a man desiring you in a way that seemed so fairytale lately even tho you were supposed to be happily married. He nips at your shoulder and hums when you don't respond. "You'll let there be a next time, right darlin'?" He mumbles against your shoulder. You nod, dreamily humming as you turn to kiss his temple. At your agreement, he grinds himself against you, letting your slick completely soak through his underwear as you both moan into each other's skin. You grab hold of his shoulders as he keeps going, his grunts heavy on your neck as he tries to keep from going overboard. He does sit up, chuckling breathlessly as you whine at the loss of his heat.

He quickly slides off his boxers and when your eyes meet again, or rather when he looks at your face, the smile that crosses his face is smug. Your eyes were glued to between his legs, your lower lip caught between your teeth. He was bigger than your husband, longer and thicker though you'd say they were similar heights. Impressive sure was one way to describe it, the tip pink and glossed over with his arousal that began to run down his length. He trails his fingers from his abs to wrap around his dick, giving it slow stokes which catches your attention. You let your eyes follow up from his dick, soaking in the way the muscles under the skin of his tummy ripple and quiver, taking in how his chest rises and falls with his labored breaths. From his chest, you look to his face, catching how his eyes are intently glued to you as he seems to fight the urge to fist himself faster. Your grip on your lip becomes bruising, the wet plaps of his hand around himself causing you to twitch and pant.

He smiles as he stops, bringing his wet hand to your mouth with a slightly raised brow, a tiny gasp escaping him as you eagerly take his hand in yours and run your tongue over his palm and between his fingers. It sets him off, as he's quickly over you again, freshly licked hand guiding his hardness to your weeping center and mouth on yours with the full intent to make it hard to breathe. He lets his cock slide through your folds, swallowing your moans every time his tip rubs your swollen clit. "You ready, sweetheart?" He slurs against your mouth. You nod, clasping your hands together at the back of his neck, desperate mutters of "Please, Sumu..." spurring him on as he slides his way into you. He was happy at how easy it was; despite how tight you were, your pussy was wet enough give give him little resistance. He only pulled away from the heated kiss to watch your eyes roll into the back of head and listen at the drawn out noise you gave him.

When he feels you hike your leg over his hip and push him into you, he almost giggles at your eagerness. He moves his hands to the sides of your head, starting a steady rut into you before both of you whine at the feeling not being enough. "Please, Astumu.. Gimme more~" you ask so sweetly, how can he deny you? His hips begin to snap into yours, drawing out pretty high pitched moans and grunts from both of you. He moves his face to mark your throat and shoulder as he pumps into you, hands moving to grab your hips to prevent you from scooting up the bed as he starts to thrust faster and faster. He keeps his moth on your throat, grunting at the feel of your sounds on his lips and your nails digging into his shoulders as you wrap your other leg around his waist.

"Feel .. s'good baby. Y'er grippin me soooo fuckin tight- shit!" He curses into your neck, mindless babbles being all he receives in return. The smile on his face never seems to leave, even as he sits up to sit back on his haunches and starts using your hips to bring your velvety pussy onto him, your ass propped up just a bit by his thighs underneath. The angle has you keening, arching your back and grasping at his wrists as a way to ground yourself as he pistons into you again and again. The sticky wet squelch between you drags Atsumu's eyes down to where you both connect, rolling and threatening to close as the sight of his pelvis all glossy, pretty white ring encircling his base and shaft completely coated. The feel of your walls convulsing and clentching as your hips buck against his in a futile effort to keep up with his brutal pace is mind numbing, dragging almost whiny moans from his chest as his hands garb onto any bit of you they can and please.

When he does manage to tear his eyes away from your swollen cunt sucking him in, he lets his gaze lick up your body. From your tummy that he can see bulge with every pump in, to your tits that bounce so nicely, to your pretty face and the adorable fucked out expression that's plastered across it. He genuinely thinks you're so pretty, he can't wrap any part of his mushy brain around how someone could have you and not want to worship you all the damn time. You deserve so much. And he's damn sure gonna give it to you. "Y'er- so- fuck-in pretty!" Every syllable is punctuated with a harsh kiss to your cervix, just bordering on painful but still adding to the pleasure that has your eyes glued to the back of your skull. Your whines and moans are broken as they hit his ears, one large hand moving from your hip to your front, letting his thumb rub your clit and his other four fingers press above where his cock hits inside.

You shudder under his hands, twitching as you let out a weak warning of your impending orgasm. Though teary eyes, you see him nod. "C'mon darlin, cum nice an' hard f'me." He grunts, leaning up onto his knees just a bit more for leverage to throw you over.

And he does.

Your eyes clamp shut as you basically scream, his name tumbling out again and again as he fucks you through it. He's honestly a bit disappointed in the fact you didn't squirt, but there's always next time, right? He does fall over the edge after you do, your gorgeous climax having a domino effect on him as he grunts out your name like a mantra until he can't. The after shocks of yours guiding him through his own overwhelming haze of pleasure, and he finds himself drooling slightly by the time he comes back to earth. His body collapses next to yours after he pulls out and watches your cunt twitch and clench, letting his cum seep out and admiring it as it follows the curve of your ass onto his bed. He pulls you to him and you let him, snuggling into his chest.

He lays there for a bit, basking in the afterglow with you before getting up to get a wet towel to clean you up with as a bath runs. "Oh, you don't have to-" The stare he gives cuts you off as he wipes down your lower half, eyes narrowed at what you saying that now implies about how you were treated at home.

"I just fucked your pretty little brains out, sweetheart. I am not only obligated to clean you up and take care of you, but i want to. As any real man should." He emphasizes what shouldn't need to be said as he finishes wiping you down and goes back into his bathroom to finish up your bath. He carries you, despite protest, and sets you in as he says he's going to change his sheets. "Do... Do you maybe wanna stay over?" He's suddenly bashful, and it makes you wonder if the man who just made you cum harder than you have in years just a moment ago and this sweet, shy, country boy who can't seem to find your eyes is the same man. You nod, saying you'd like that. He finds your eyes then, dopey smile out in full as he hops off to clean his room.

He comes back just when you're clean and about to fall asleep, calling for you as he helps you out and dries you off, admiring your sleepy form as he slides a clean tshirt over your head. He guides you out this time, you smacking his hands when he tries to pick you up, his bed now dressed in a pretty deep grey color as he lets you lay down and get comfy. He's about to walk into the bathroom when your phone rings from the floor, you sucking your teeth at the ringtone. He rummages through your pants to find it again and frowns at it being the man neither of you wanna hear from. He does not the lack of guilt he feels about what happened tho. He hands it to your grabby hand and listens from the bathroom as you answer.

"Hello?... What does it matter what im doing?... I'm not at home, your dinner is in the oven. Is that not everything?... What you do in that house, in that bed is none of my business. I don't wanna hear about it either, not like i sleep there..... I have an attitude because you're bothering me... That's not even fair, what for?!... Sure, whatever. Move it i guess.... No, im not. Can i go now?" He hears you sigh and groan, but you seem to be off the phone, so he quickly hops in the shower before coming to cuddle with you in bed. The evening sun has set, the sky it's deep inky black through the window as he flicks on the tv to something neither of you pay attention to. He wraps you tight on his embrace and kisses your head, asking what your legal partner wanted. "He wants to use the guest room I'm staying in to house his little tramp because she's having 'family issues, don't be such a bitch. She's going through a hard time.'" You grown and half flail like you're having a tantrum, pressing your face into his chest. He grips even tighter, his blood boiling. That man has 0 respect and it shows so much.

"You can bring whatever things you don't want him to touch here." He offers, and you turn your sad, puppy like eyes to him. Even in the dark, under the mild light of his tv, he can see how glassy they are. It hurts his heart. "You can come by whenever you want, too. I'll never turn you away." You open your mouth, voice raspy with tears as you tell him of not wanting to intrude or be a burden but he stops you with a kiss. "Im not him. You will never be a burden to me. I mean it. Whatever or whenever, you always have a sizable place here." The tears fall but you smile at his sweetness, sharing kisses and sniffly thank you's with him. He pulls you on top of him, letting your head lay on his chest as he soothes his hands over your back, telling you to get some well deserved sleep. He thankfully doesn't miss your mutters of how much you like him already and how thankful you are before you're out cold. He places another kiss to your head, smiling as his own eyes close from his own exhaustion. Be it from fucking you like that or from being angry at your paper-only lover, he doesn't know or even care right now. He knows he'll have to explain himself to someone at some point, but that's a task for future Astumu.

Besides, he's just doing what his mama taught him was right, right?

Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated! Hope you guys enjoyed! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

[ask-artsy-oncie]

What’s Jules’ and Kit’s relationship from them first meeting onwards? Do they move in together at some point? How do they keep in contact? Stuff like that.

They exchange contact info after Jules is given a tour of the Sea Duck. I think it takes a little while for them to meet up, again, but they do. They're too fascinated by one another not to.

I think, though, if I want to explain how their relationship goes from one stage to the next, I ought to examine their social lives and how it impacts the development of their romance.

Kit's doing very good, now! In that, he has his family, he has Della (fuck canon, Kit and Della are childhood friends TO ME!!!), he has now former pirates he works with and can bond with, he goes out drinking every so often, like. I still consider him an introvert but he's got a pretty healthy social life and doesn't really struggle to have positive friendly interactions on the regular. He's just a generally good-natured guy like that.

HOWEVER, god, his romantic experience is weird. It's not like he never "noticed" girls or boys, but the vast majority of his focus growing up was on learning how to fly, getting into flight school, getting his pilot's license, etc. He just didn't have time for romance because he had other things at the forefront of his mind, and it took up a lot of his mind, too. I think it was something that gave Baloo great joy (in the sense that it meant that at least Kit "wasn't growing up too fast") and Rebecca a lot of anguish (in the sense that she had certain expectations for certain milestones at certain ages).

Into adulthood, maybe perhaps a little stunted from ignoring those kinds of feelings throughout his teen years, I don't think Kit really winds up in a serious relationship at any point prior to Jules. And I'm not even certain it's something he even cares to look for. He's very fulfilled by flying and cloudsurfing, among other things, yknow? I do think he ended up in short flings and even one-night-stands (he's still an adult with needs, and that's just how he went about dealing with it) throughout his 20's and early 30's, so he's not totally inexperienced in romantic endeavors, just not committed.

And he's also just fucking horrible at being self-aware about his attraction, as well. I've said this in a previous post but Kit develops crushes on pilots very easily. They don't last terribly long, but he's never aware of how obvious it is, or that much has even changed within him. Maybe after the fact, but rarely ever in the moment. His family absolutely teases him over it. Della is more exasperated by it.

Meanwhile, Jules has very little experience socializing outside their family. They'd always been the shy one among their siblings, and as they grew up they'd made one or two school friends (basically, they socialized just enough that their reclusive nature was never noticed, by their family or themself), but rarely ever got close enough to anyone like they were with their family.

They do, however, technically have a leg-up on Kit in that they did briefly date someone in a superficial high school sort of way. Lol.

Jules was just also pretty damn absorbed into their fixation on learning magic and magical history to really focus on maintaining friendships and other relationships after high school. Their siblings all grew up alongside them and got busy with their own lives. Jules gradually, without meaning to, became more and more reclusive. Stuck in their own head. Very painfully aware that they would like to form friendships and even romantic bonds at this point in their life, but totally intimidated by the process of doing so.

It's by chance that Kit makes the first move on that fateful day. And does so in a way that opens Jules up to him in a way they'd definitely struggle to without prompting. And they click pretty easily, it turns out.

Jules's proficiency is in magic, of course, but engineering and machinery really fascinates them. They genuinely were hanging off Kit's every word as he explained the mechanisms of the Sea Duck and compared them to those of other planes, what each part did and if and how it did it well. Meanwhile, Kit has had a pretty limited encounter with magic. In Talespin he's shown to be at least a little superstitious, and I, of course, have a very self-indulgent headcanon that he reads tarot, but he doesn't know the fine details, how or why things work the way they do. Actually seeing someone flying on an honest-to-god broomstick made his brain go "!!!!" and he absorbed Jule's long-winded, tangent-filled explanations with no complaints. Beyond just vibing with having related special interests, they're also both invested in the other's respected special interest.

It makes for a pretty great feedback loop, so when they do meet up, they tend to hit it off really well. Before Jules knows it, they've made their first friend in a long time. It happens without either of them really even noticing. It's suddenly just so normal to have one another in their lives. Suddenly, Jules is wedged into Kit's life, seamlessly, and Kit is wedged into Jules's. Kit is swinging by Jules's shop in his free time, just to see them, and hopefully goad them into having a conversation with him and giving him their attention, despite them being on the clock. Jules is starting to show up to Kit's shows when they can, and, with Molly's permission, ends up waiting backstage for him on the regular, hoping that they'll get to steal a moment or two of his time.

But Jules absolutely is having a very new experience after spending so long, alone. Whether they consciously realize it or not, they're pretty overwhelmed by this foreign feeling of having such a close companionship with someone, now. Not to mention that Kit is, physically, very attractive to Jules. What I'm saying is that Jules develops a crush on Kit pretty quickly. And once they notice they can't even bring themself to deny it when pried by one of their sisters.

They like Kit. A lot. But he's also the first friend they've had in so long, and the last thing they want to do is ruin that by letting romantic feelings get in the way. So they don't act on their feelings, which they feel is the smart, mature thing to do. They just want to be able to enjoy having a friend, right now (though it doesn't stop them from becoming a blushing, stuttering mess when Kit gets too close or grabs their hand and holds it, or, god forbid, some adventure perils cause Kit to pick them up. They have had to refrain from asking Kit to crush them SO MANY TIMES NOW--).

And Kit? Honestly was pretty smitten with them from the get-go, but again, he really isn't aware of it. He of course gets teased, he's so obvious about it, but he brushes it off with the same lighthearted comebacks as he always does with their teasing. Like he just does not make the connection. He just really, really, really enjoys being around Jules so he acts on those feelings and doesn't really put deeper thought into them...

... Until his crush ends up lasting so long that he inevitably comes to the realization that he has one, while he's still having one. Uh oh. Kit ends up entering a sort of crisis mode where he's suddenly hyper aware of his feelings for Jules and can't behave normally (or rather, calmly) around them anymore. He gets too jittery, too blushy, too dumb around them, now, and it's making him frustrated with himself. Meanwhile, Jules repressing their own attraction to Kit is starting to get kind of painful for them. There's romantic tension between the two of them that is just begging to pop at any given moment. Their loved ones are way too invested in this repressive disaster unfolding before them, btw. Things are super awkward between them now, despite their best efforts, but they're also attached enough to each other that it doesn't stop them from spending time with one another.

And, see, Jules has a pretty bad habit of talking aloud to themself. It's a holdover from only really having themself to talk to when there wasn't a customer to be helped. They're not loud about it, but they're definitely audible. And they're in turmoil at this moment, so they're definitely talking to themself every chance they get.

Despite their own self-awareness, Jules does not actually recognize that Kit reciprocates their feelings. They believe that things are getting more and more awkward because, in bottling up their feelings, they believe said feelings have gotten "worse" and are putting the strain on their friendship they feared it would. So their next step is just to convince themself to get over their feelings. To cross the peak of this awful mountain they've been climbing, already. That this isn't going to last much longer, that it's just their physical attraction to Kit messing with the rest of their feelings and it'll go away. That, sure, maybe right now they're in love with Kit and extremely attracted to Kit, and--

The door to their shop is open.

Kit is standing in their doorway.

As Kit still does, in order to suffer through incomprehensible sentences and blush so uncomfortably hot, just so he can hear Jules's voice and see their smile and be with them, with their attention on him.

He's probably heard to much.

He has heard to much.

The tension pops like a bubble.

And it really is such a drastic relief to the both of them that, all this time, they were just being idiots and there really wasn't much of anything to worry about. They're adults, dammit, they shouldn't have to dance around one another, if they both like each other romantically they should just give this dating thing a shot, right? The two of them think so.

And so they end up in a sort of honeymoon phase, where they're still extremely reactive towards one another. Blushing, stuttering, babbling, awkward messes. But it isn't painful for either of them, anymore. It just makes them feel warm and happy and giggly, until everything calms down properly and they settle back into their familiar familiarity. They're just both friends AND lovers, now.

I'm gonna stop it there because it's past 1AM and I am extremely tired, but this is them going from acquaintances to friends to a couple, at least. If I was more coherent I'd probably have a better narrative structure to this? But maybe I'm just being too harsh on myself. If this satisfies you, anon, then I'm very happy :)

[leviiackrman]

18-21 for saeka and mineyo 💕💕💕

18. How easy is it to become their enemy?

All you’d need to do is hurt someone she cared about!! You touch a hair on any of her siblings heads and you’d be dead instantly, and any of her students she’d be ready to throw hands for so fast!!

19. How easy is it to become their friend?

It’s harder to become her friend than enemy… Saeka is quite reclusive and solitary most of the time, not because she wants to be but because she doesn’t really know any different when she’s not with her family yknow? That being said, her bestie Anzu was the one to make a space for herself in Saekas life so she didn’t have much control of that (and wouldn’t change it for the world either🤍) she’s polite and friendly to an extent, but her social battery drains v quickly these days, so she needs people that run on her kinda wave length!

20. Do they have a strong connection to their culture?

She was raised to carry the weight of her family name, and they have some cultural significance in terms of clans in Japan! They follow traditions and festivities which she upholds even when she’s not at home! Saeka is the one most connected to that side of the family, and tends to have to rope her other siblings into joining her otherwise it’s her alone to celebrate, but her brothers especially make a point to join her because they know it’ll make her happy!

21. What is more important to them, friends or family?

OOF ALYSSA THATS A LOW BLOW!! I would say family, as her drive in life is to protect them all, but after leaving home and being an adult etc when her siblings are older (and no longer fully her responsibility), she gets to be more herself so her friends that share that with her are on just as high of a pedestal to her as her siblings! (Her parents can get fucked in her opinion, tho she’d never actually say that to them haha)

18. How easy is it to become their enemy?

Almost everyone is instantly Mineyos enemy off the bat. She thinks everyone sees her a certain way, so if they’ll judge before knowing her then she’ll judge them too! Only those that are fearless enough to push past her brash exterior are able to see her true colours and carefree personality!

19. How easy is it to become their friend?

Again, not v easy! If you share similar passions to her then it’s easier to talk to her for definite! That’s how Rin and all his friends were able to befriend her, but most of the time she is closed off and distant because she has no need or longing to have friends, they’ll only stand in her way in her eyes!

20. Do they have a strong connection to their culture?

Not really… she definitely has habits that’s she’s developed from living in Australia her whole life, so moving to Japan was a bit of a culture shock; BUT, her mama is Japanese and encouraged her to speak Japanese/enjoy their traditions as she grew up so she has a lot of respect for Japanese culture as a whole!

21. What is more important to them, friends or family?

Family. Her mama, step dad and half siblings (as well as kitty Coral) are her go to people for anything, she trusts them with her life and they are her safe place! They support her in all that she does and respect what she’s like as a person based off of her traumas.

That can also be said for her friends tho, she just doesn’t know it. Rin makes it clear to her how much her cares (and his friends do over time too), but she will always go to her family first before getting friends involved - even if they’re adamant they wanna be involved!

OC QUESTIONS

[al1x00]

⚠️CHAP. 10 SPOILERS⚠️

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW THIS OMFG I'M NOT READY FOR OPIN TO END😭😭

EXCUSE ME "TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS"?!?! WHO TF IS TRYING TO BLOW THEIR BRAINS OUT MY GOODNESS.

Love how I'm totally chill on the blood and gore part like yeah that's usual Katy™ stuff, you get used to it after reading TF🥰🥰

DAMNN HOBIE'S ON FIRE HE'S GOT NO MERCY ANYMORE. Also I love how you described the factory and the way Hick's office/balcony is placed very high up because he own the place and all that jazz because it just makes him the picture perfect image of the asshole he is LMAO

YAYY WE GOT KARL TOO THE WHOLE GANG IS HEREEE

WHOA WAIT A BAG OF TNT?? That's not gonna go well, is it..? Even if they do manage to bomb the factory, TNT is a very effective and quick explosive so if they aren't fast enough to get away someone might get hurt yknow

Hicks and his shit aim strike once again and fail😌 that man cannot land a single bullet on anyone, not even a couple of horses.

WTF HOW DID HE NOT DIE? ISTG IF HOBIE DOESN'T GET TO KILL HIM

Honestly if R was to look at Hobie and see him kill men so effortlessly while balancing only on one side of his horse they're gonna get married on the spot, like RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

Hobie lost his last whip and said "Fuck it, let's make an instrument of torture out of the new one" And I bet that shit hurt like hell.

"Everyone thinks he should be dead by now" ONE OF THE REALEST THINGS YOU WROTE YEAHH TERMINATE THAT ASSHOLE

YESS HE GOT THE DEATH HE DESERVED NO MERCY FOR HICKS

I always make sure there aren't any symbolism or anything in the paragraphs before I continue reading the chapters so I googled what do alligators symbolize and there many different versions of it. One said they symbolize inner strenght and power so I gues that could work with the power Hobie held in that moment right before he decided not to spare Hicks and let him suffer but it also says they symbolize finding solace in the present which I don't think Hicks got while he was getting eaten alive and ripped apart💀

WAIT IT'S BEEN A MONTH SINCE THE WHOLE THING HAPPENED? A WHOLE MONTH PASSED FROM THE DAY HICKS AND CROSS FOUND THEIR FARM?

OKAY WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK HAS HAPPENED. HICKS TRIED TO KILL R BY THROWING HER DOWN THE WELL? IT'S WORSE THAN ANYTHING THEY'VE DONE TO HER BEFORE WTF HE DESERVED THAT HORRIBLE DEATH.

"A graveyard full of Cross’ ancestors lies just a few ways away from the gazebo." He's gonna join them soon if he doesn't stop with that attitude🥰🥰

R thinking about Hobie everytime someone does something that he would do just hurts so much because R doesn't even know if he's alive or not at this point. She has no way of escaping or getting any source of information about him or Riri and the others and it's so fucking sad. It's hurting me so much I just need to see them happy and healthy once more😭😭

R IS BEING A GIRLBOSS I LOVE ITT

“Look at me just like how you look at him.” Okay just one more thing to add to the list of reasons of why I hate Cross so much🥰🥰 Out of all the things he's done and said this is probably one of the most disgusting EVER.

KATYY WDYM BOTH HIT THEIR TARGET?!?!?! IS R DEAD? NONONONO I CAN'T TAKE ANOTHER SAD ENDING AFTER TF THIS BETTER BE A FUCKING JOKE

DAMN R GOT SOME AIM THAT BULLET LEFT A BIG ASS HOLE THROUGHT HIS STOMACH

...Katy I swear to god if R dies I'm gonna sue you. DON'T GIVE HOBIE ANY MORE TRAUMA HE ALREADY HAS PLENTLY AND EVEN MORE TO SPARE.

“A life lived without you isn't a life well lived, remember?” Bye don't talk to me for five business days.

KATY YOU HAD ME FOR A SECOND I THOUGHT THEY BOTH DIED IN THE FIRE OH MY GOODNESS I WAS ABOUT TO THROW A FIT I WAS ALREADY SOBBING MY EYES OUT BUT THEN I WENT ON AND I WAS LIKE "WAIT A DAMN MINUTE-"

THEY GOTH DUCKIESS AND BUCKY AND CHERRY HAVE LITTLE KIDS NOW I'M SOBBING OMFG

AND COWS TOO

AND CLOVER HAS HER PUPPIES TOO OH MY GOD IT'S SO CUTEEE

God really must have favourites because how the fuck did R survive that bullet right under her ribcage? Like sure there was a possibility but holy shit R got lucky. NOT THAT I'M COMPLAINING OFC

HELLO?? BILLIE AND MONA CANON IN OPIN?? AAAA I'M LOSING MY SHIT I'M SO HAPPY THAT THEY'RE ALRIGHT AND CONTENT IN THEIR HOUSE AGAIN.

God this has been so bittersweet. Words cannot describe the utter whirlwind of emotions that I had throughtout this chapter and story overall. It has made me cry, laugh, cheer for the characters and have loads of sympathy for them, so much that sometimes I felt it to the very soul. I can safely say that this fic goes onto the podium with BDAS because the sheer amount of effort you put into this has not gone unnoticed, you've outdone yourself again like you always continue to do and I'm SO SO proud of you for writing something as beautiful as OPIN. I am not ready to say goodbye to our favourite outlaw and cowboy😭😭 (I will not say goodbye to him yet, he'll have me in a chokehold until the end of time)Honestly I could go on and yap about this for hours and hours (and I probably will because OPIN deserves it) but like- the intricacy of the storyline, the well done backstories and the way you gave each character a different moral and point of view is just 🤌* chefs kiss * YKWIM?? I will never, EVER, shut up about how R and Hobie were like complete strangers all over again when they found eachother after all those years, how they feared of the consequences of loving somebody, but in the end the only thing that mattered the most was to get back into eachother's arms and stay with the other until the end, no matter if the flames got to them or not; the fact that they were gonna die together in that fire and they were totally fine with that just because they had eachother will always cling with me. They way they both learned to love the other despite all their flaws and the how the horrible things that happened shaped them, but their love was stronger than anything else, stronger than a man and his whole bullet factory that went against two people who just truly loved eachother in the purest and most genuine way ever. They fought with claws and teeth, because they had both everything and nothing to lose, just to see the other one last time before everything caught up.

Alright I won't write more on this but I will return with another yapping session soon so expect a huge message in your inbox LMAO but thanks again for everything Katy!! LY LY LY❤️❤️❤️

Dead Man's Hand

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N, sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), Cowboy AU, wild west AU, CW food mention, CW vomit mention, CW blood and gore, CW guns, TW violence, TW abuse, TW suicidal thoughts, TW death.

A/N: if there are any warnings that I've missed please tell me so I could add it in.

This chapter tackles dark themes, read at your own discretion.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 10 >>>

The pungent, acrid and hot air of metal and gunpowder brings Hobie back in time as he slams open the steel doors to the factory with a harsh kick. Machinery whirs, and twists, sharp steel dancing to the beat of the flames as it turns molten iron into instruments of death.

Hobie roams his fury-filled eyes around the factory, green flames flicker in those eyes, finding grime coated faces of strangers staring back at him and his posse. One glances their dark eyes towards the upper level of the factory where a balcony is placed. Where Hicks would look down with contempt, and would scream at the overworked employees to hurry production. Hobie knows it all too well, the factory mirrors the one back home. In the middle of the balcony sits an office with frosted windows that bear Hicks’ name. But the man is nowhere to be found within the crowd.

“If you're not Hicks, get the fuck out.” He doesn't need to yell the command, for everyone turns to run outside towards the back exit where half of Miguel's gang lies in wait; and Hicks' lackeys lay dead on the soft muddy ground.

One running and hiding away amidst the crowd catches his eye with the same face as one of the men who buried him all those years ago. “‘cept you.” With one swift raise of his six shooter, smoke billowing out, a hole now sits on the man's torso where his heart should be. “Hicks, better get down ‘ere or my people will blow this place to the ground.” Hobie steps over the bloody body, crimson coating the sole of his boots. “Rainin’ bullets don't mix well with a room full of explosives.”

There's no movement nor a whisper in the entire factory save for the fading sounds of the machines slowly shutting off. He catches a glimpse of a shadow behind a closed frosty door in the upper level of the factory. It was quick and sudden, if not for Riri's gentle nudge towards the movement, he'd think he was seeing you again for a brief cruel moment.

“Ri, Karl, come with me.” Hobie emerges behind the blackened air from the large machines. Three sets of boots thumping silently as they bound upstairs.

He reaches the door, back on the solid wall and away from the glass. Riri stays on his right, shotgun cocked and ready while Karl checks his bag of TNT on Hobie's left. As he moves to open the door, a bullet pierces the glass, shattering it into sharp tiny pieces. A shard nicks Hobie's cheek, but he ignores the throbbing pain as blood trickles out.

“You're still alive, you little shit?!” Hicks yells, shooting blindly at the door.

The trio stays still and waits for the opening. A click echoes in the quiet, and clouds of gunpowder float through the air. Hobie and the others take their opportunity. Karl lights a stick of dynamite, chucking it inside the room and then ducking down to cover his ears. Hobie doesn't waste time, leaving the safety of the cover, he twists to face the door, shooting at the flying TNT— effectively blowing it near Hicks while Hobie holds onto his hat so that it doesn't get blown away.

The explosion causes Hobie to stagger backwards, if not for Riri pulling him back to the side, he would've fallen off the railings. Sulfur fills the air as they cough, puffs of grey smoke clouds the entire office space.

His ears ring, a sharp high pitched sound that he's awfully familiar with. He gives Riri a thankful nod, which she replies with a smug smile and a raise of her eyebrow. Hobie takes the lead, flicking his eyes towards Karl, who gives him a thumbs up, and with his hair all messed up from the explosion. Satisfied that his group is alright, he enters the fray. Smoke giving way to him and his raised gun. Shards of glass crunch at his feet, singed papers lay burned on the floorboards as embers flicker out in the air.

As the smoke clears out and the hot air of the south enters through the broken windows— Hobie finds no one inside the room.

“Fuck!” As he yells into the emptiness, a horse neighs outside, hooves running frantically away while bullets fly and ricochet. He immediately looks down, finding Hicks half burnt and riding away. “Like a fuckin’ roach.” Without thinking ahead, Hobie vaults from the window, softening his fall with a roll. Landing, knees aching but intact, he whistles for Bucky.

“Hobie, what the fuck?!” Riri and Karl simultaneously scream out, but Hobie's already running while Bucky follows right behind him.

Once Buckeye trots next to him, Hobie grabs hold of the saddle's horn to swiftly lift himself up on the saddle with a quick pull. No one's going to stop him, Miguel already considers Hicks dead just from the look of determination behind those green eyes.

Hobie leaves everyone in the dust. Bucky neighs wildly, huffing and puffing as he tries to catch up. “Hicks!” Said man turns on his saddle a few ways ahead, arm raising to aim and to shoot his gun. Bullets whizz past, hot air passing by as Hicks misses every single bullet.

Hicks’ scalding flesh makes him keel over in pain as his blood drenches his horse. “Shit!” He kicks roughly, his horse whines before speeding off.

Bucky gains speed, catching up to Hicks whilst he reloads. But of course, his hired guns finally catch wind. A handful of them appear from the side, trudging from the muddy swamp with alligators lurking underneath, and riding towards the bumpy road where the main chase is happening.

The rival posse hollars and hoots, sneering smiles and guns aimed at Hobie. Riri and the others are still catching up to him, so he's left alone to defend himself and Bucky. With fury fuelling him, he has everything to lose so he'll shoot through all of them like a hot knife through butter.

While the mercenaries leave the line of trees, Hobie enters the thicket, swerving to the side, using the large and sturdy trees for cover. The ground may be soft and muddy, but Hobie and his loyal horse have been in dozens of situations like this. The swamp might've slowed them down but it doesn't stop them as splintered wood flicks and flies while his enemies continue to shoot at his swift horse.

A bullet comes too close to his head, piercing a hole in the brim of his hat. He clicks his tongue, annoyed at the damage. Patting Bucky, he takes his foot off one of the stirrups to bring it to the safer side where no bullets could come at him. With two legs on one side, hand holding on to the saddle horn and reins, Hobie rides sideways, hiding his body while peeking over and shooting with calculated aim as Bucky runs back towards the path. One by one, the mercenaries fall off their horses with his bullets pierced through their bodies. The road is coated with their blood, leaving trails of rubies for his posse to follow.

Miguel trots closer, shooting at what remains of Hicks' men. The gang hoots at the sight, adrenaline rushing through their veins, and blood heating up from the violence.

While Riri and Karl have their eyes on Hobie, who now sits upright on Bucky, they kick on their horses and off they go, riding side by side with Him. Hicks panics from the sheer volume of horses running after him, with his last bullets, he aims at Bucky's leg.

Hobie beats him to the punch, quickly thrashing his whip made out of jagged metal wires, tearing the skin off of Hicks' arm apart when Hobie pulls hard at it. Hicks screams in sheer agony, tumbling and falling off his horse into the moist ground, soil entering his burns and mouth. When the dust settles, he looks up to only see the end of Hobie's gun.

It's silent in the marsh as the sun shines on his gun; frogs hum in the distance, gators trill when they smell meat while Hicks' labored breathing quickens. Hobie has his gun digging into Hicks’ skull, skin red and angry from his burns. Half of his face has melted into a mess of meat and bones, left eye barely opening from his melted eyelid. A pungent smell permeates from his oozing wounds, clothes torn and burned to ash, and ankle twisted at an angle. Hicks’ hands are buried halfway into the ground as he sinks down to the muddy plains.

Everyone thinks he should be dead by now, even Hicks himself, but death won't grant him the sweet release just yet— not until Hobie takes what he is owed.

“My, don't you look pretty, Hicks.” Hobie doesn't smile nor smirk at the sight of the man who buried him alive five years ago. A man who now kneels before him, disfigured beyond recognition, feeding the soil under him with his own suffering.

“F-fuck y-y-you.” Hicks' lips tremble from the unimaginable pain. “I w-will not b-beg.” He manages to curl half of his melted lips into one final sneer. “Not l-like how you did.”

“I don't want you to beg, Hicks.” Hobie digs the metal harshly, skin ripping and tearing like paper from under the gun. “I need to know where she is. You're dyin' anyway, your last words might as well be somethin' useful.”

Hobie's cold words makes the man scoff that quickly turns into a painful cough. “No. Didn't your old man tell you that revenge is a f-fool's game?”

“This isn't revenge, this is retribution.” Hobie tilts his head, looking behind Hicks where a pack of gators trill and show themselves under the green swamp. “If you tell me, I won't let the gators eat you alive.”

“Wha–?” Hicks' slowly turns his trembling head, skin painfully tugging with every movement. One of the gators snaps its maw, warning with its sharp teeth. The entire gang hears this grown man whimper from fear.

“They look mighty hungry, Hicks. Better hurry up.”

“You'd t-take me away from them?”

“No, I'd put you out of your misery before they get to you. Something you didn't give me back then.”

Hobie can practically see the rusty cogs in Hicks' head turning. “...alright, just don't let them eat m-me.” His burns flares up as he doubles in pain.

Hobie makes the man raise his head with the barrel pushing his chin up. “Sure.”

“She's at the big white house near Blackwater, just west of the r-road. You can't miss it.”

“You lyin’” Hobie doubts the information when he gave it to him too fast. Jaw tightening at the thought of you being so close yet so far from his reach.

“No, I'm not.” Hicks hears the unmistakable sound of the reptile crawling closer. “It's the truth.”

Riri flicks her eyes towards Hobie, leaning close, whispering lowly at his ear. “I know the place.” Hobie doesn't miss the hard look in her eyes. “He's not local, that place is well hidden, he wouldn't know that only the locals know about it.” She glares at the sniveling man, “It's ways away from the road he's talking about. Fucking far from it. Easily missed if you're not familiar with the place.”

Hicks figures out what she's whispering when Hobie's anger flares, hand tightening around his gun. “I'm telling the truth, Hobie. It's there and she's waiting for you! I promise! She's the one lying!” He points a crooked finger at Riri.

“Thought you wouldn't beg.” His fate is sealed with the gators. “Technically you did lie.” Hobie drops his arm, gun aimed away from Hicks. “Off you go with the gators, boss.”

“No, no, Hobie! Please, I'm sorry!” Hicks tries to grab at Hobie's leg, but Hobie kicks him down on the ground and on his back. He tilts his head back, meeting face to face with a ten foot alligator that seems to smile at him.

His screams echo around the marsh while Hobie and the others get on their horses. He watches the gator death roll the flailing Hicks on the muddied ground until the wailing stops completely.

Hobie leads the pack away while he leaves behind the sound of tearing skin and bones cracking under sharp teeth. And all he could think about is you, and how he could've had a good life with you.

—

Draped in chiffon and stab silk, iridescent blues and purples dance along the fabric as light hits it. Expensive fabric that hides all the aching blemishes on your flesh by the same men who claim that they are doing it for your sake, that it's the only way you would obey.

Your hands are tied behind your back with Cross' hand wrapped around your wrists in a sickening grip; preventing you from moving. You shine under the southern sun, all gold and frills but none of the happiness behind your sullen and dull eyes.

For a fleeting moment in those months you were with Hobie, you had peace. You'd stay there forever if you could, if only the world had granted it to you, instead of the pain that it brought down upon you.

You could've had a good life together.

It's been a whole month since the last time you saw Hobie alive. A whole month without hearing his voice, without his loving touch; and a whole month with the same family who has hurt you in every possible way they could. The image of Hobie buried under the rubble of your shared home spirals you over the edge once again. You've cried, wept and sobbed some more, but nothing has helped. You feel like you've died right next to him. You wish you had.

Meanwhile you have a wound that was never meant to be healed inside you. A wound that was momentarily healed, until you were brought back to the reality of your dreaded life.

You instinctively run your finger around the gold band around your finger, finding the unfamiliar diamond instead of the simple gold band that turns your face even more sour at the scalding heat that turns your heavy dress into an oven. You had the foresight to hide Hobie's ring the second you had a chance. It now lays underneath your floorboards waiting for you.

There's a heavy feeling in your chest, grief running along your heart, plunging your very being into darkness. It was like that day five years ago, you have no knowledge of him alive, no way of knowing if Hicks ended him. It's an awful case of déjà vu.

Both men stand beside you, as if they're meant to guard you. The estate stands behind you, its large shadow looming over you. All Its white marble and columns stand tall, doors that don't creak, windows pristine and gleaming— but you'd rather have the pile of ashes you once called home.

This place lacks a heartbeat.

You flick your tired eyes over to the well beside the estate, your body shivers from how cold it was inside, when you sank into it like stone the first time Hicks threw you inside. It's a miracle you didn't break your neck, in that moment, you wished it had.

A carriage arrives from a distance, horses galloping along the road towards the estate. Wispy cypress trees sit around the path, parting way for the dirt road leading to the house. Its soft leaves dance in the wind, leaves fluttering by as you watch the carriage get closer and closer.

“Remember to smile, we can't lose their money.” Hicks grabs the back of your dress, yanking your neck down for emphasis. “Don't be a bitch like last time or you'll get the well tonight. And I heard it'll be cold tonight.”

“I'll be in my best behavior, uncle.” Your glare towards the rich couple exiting the carriage says otherwise.

Hicks only gives you a stern look before letting you go. Cross loosens his grip for a moment and you immediately take your hands in front of you so he couldn't hold you again. You haven't spoken a word to the man you call husband since you arrived at the estate. Your defiance got your bedroom door locked from the outside for now but was taken apart for the first week of your stay. Showing you bare to the entire world, revealing to the world that you're his.

The woman clad in gold and gemstones huffs, flinging away a fly from her painted face. “God, I hate this humidity.”

“This better be good this time, Hicks.” Her husband takes his tophat off, wrinkling his nose at the scent of heat and damp marsh.

“You won't regret traveling for this, Mr. Burnell.” Hicks sucks up to the man. “My, don't you look lovely, Mrs. Burnell.”

She giggles, hiding the blush dusting her cheeks with a fan. “Oh don't be such a gentleman, Hicks.”

“Stop sucking up to my wife, Hicks.” Even though his smile tells you that it's a joke, his tone says that he's completely irked by your uncle. Perhaps this has happened before.

You roll your eyes subtly, Cross’ jaw tightens as he shakes hands with both guests. “It's a pleasure to have you both today.” He says flatly.

“An honour.” Your tone is tight, lips turned into a strained smile.

“I remember you,” the male Burnell smiles faintly at you. “And you too,” he points at Cross. “I was at your wedding, what a wonderful ceremony.” You clench your fists tightly around your lace gloves, almost tearing the fabric.

“Oh I also remember!” His wife claps, “your gown was lovely, and the deviled eggs were to die for!”

You laugh, a sound more akin to a scoff. “I should've had some back then.”

Mr. Burnell reaches for both of your hands, holding you gently as you make a face at him that doesn't quite reach the man's full understanding. “I'm sorry about your aunt, we sent flowers to the funeral. I hope it was to your liking.”

“I wouldn't know, I wasn't there.” You swallow thickly.

“Oh poor dear,” The woman touches your cheek, and you flinch away. She coos as if you're a child. “You couldn't even bear saying goodbye.”

“Sure,” you slide your hands away from the man's hold, and then you take her hand away from your skin. “That's why.”

Hicks inhales deeply, “why don't we go to the gazebo? Tea is being served there.” He takes their attention away from you.

“We came all this way and you don't even have lunch for us?” Mr. Burnell raises a thick brow, his wife agrees with a nod.

“We did.” Cross finally speaks through gritted teeth. “It got cold.” The couple flares their nostrils in annoyance.

“This place was hard to find.”

“You had us waiting for two hours. Hardly an excuse, Mr. Burnell.” Cross doesn't back down from the older man's stare.

“W-what my associate was trying to say was that— we didn't want to serve you all cold beef! No one likes cold beef, correct?” Hicks tries to save the day, but they don't respond. “There's deviled eggs in the gazebo.” That seemed to work as they followed Hicks towards the blue gazebo behind the house.

Cross yanks you back to his side before you could get far. Your chest tightens, threatening to stop your breathing as he whispers towards one of the estate workers to prepare a batch of deviled eggs immediately. The second they leave, you glare at Cross, refusing to touch him even though his fingers dig into your arm.

“Don’t run, Y/N.” He says for the umpteenth time. You would run, and you had a few times while you're with him. But you were only met with your cheeks burning into the shape of his palm, and his hired guns dragging you back inside the mansion with their lassos tied around your ankles.

“I can't even breathe in this dress, moreso run in it.” You try to take your arm back but he stops you with his nails dragging along your sleeves.

“Be good, be fucking obedient. Don't be impossible like you always were.” His green eyes remind you so much of Hobie that it taints his image in your mind. You refuse to let it fog his image.

“I am not a dog, Cross.” You fight back, why shouldn't you? You have nothing to lose now.

He comes close to your face, jade eyes reflecting the fear in your expression, breath wafting over your face. “Then don't act like one.” His eyes pass over your face, finding fear laced in between the creases of your expression. His tone softens, one that sends shivers down your spine. “Why don't you call me by my real name? Cross is our last name, Y/N. Can you call me—”

“No.” You yank yourself away even if it means that his fingers drag along your arm in a manner that makes your skin run cold.

The next thing you know you're sitting next to Mrs. Burnell, who swallows down deviled eggs like its water. The entire table is set all prettily, blue laces sitting under white porcelain, utensils draped in silver, and chairs soft whilst the gazebo with lilacs growing on the roof acts as your shade. A graveyard full of Cross’ ancestors lies just a few ways away from the gazebo. Withering gravestones left unattended, and overgrown grass drowning each of the carved names. It leaves a heavy presence in the back of your mind.

The fork in your hand shakes, silver shining in the sunlight bearing down behind you just as when a pair of red cardinals fly next to the gazebo. The murmurs of the marsh echoes around the estate, gators trilling a few ways away, birds chirping and cawing right next to croaking bullfrogs. You're surrounded by green with a dash of greed as Hicks continues to suck up to the rich prospective partners.

A hand cups your own, and for a flicker, you thought it was Hobie's calloused hand gently holding onto you until his nails jab into your palm. Cross gives you a hard look, gesturing for you to eat instead of staring blankly at the cakes in front of you. With a mocking smile, you take a glass of cold orange juice on your right, condensation drenching your ungloved hand. You don't break eye contact as you gulp down the entire glass, making the Burnells look at you with pinched brows. For the final touch, you exhale loudly as if you were thirsty beyond belief.

Hicks chuckles nervously, eyes darting from you to the rich couple. Cross is fuming silently, letting your hand go limp on the table. An employee comes to your side, refilling your glass as everyone at the table stays in awkward silence. You can't help but puff out your chest with pride. Hobie would've loved to see that. Their faces would be worth it for the wrath you're about to face.

Mr. Burnell clears his throat, “as I was saying, we can't give twenty thousand for only ten percent shares. It's daylight robbery, Hicks.”

“Oh come on, Quentin, you've known me for a long time!” Hicks plays the ‘old friend’ card, a trick you've seen one too many times. “You know I can be trusted, and that ten percent will go higher once we've had our foothold here in America.”

“I do know you, that's why you can't be trusted. Even her aunt knew better when she gave the company to her.” Burnell pauses, bespectacled eyes staring at you briefly. Your lips curl up into a smirk. You probably don't have to work too hard in sabotaging this one. “Besides, that was back when you were the leading manufacturer in the UK. There was a guarantee, now you're here in a country that is practically shitting bullets by the buckets.” He leans back in his seat, “face it, you old dog, there's no profit here for you.”

“He's right,” His wife enters the conversation, dabbing her mouth daintily with a handkerchief. “Why did you even move here in the first place? I heard the company was doing badly back home but not that bad, right?”

Hicks coughs, drinking from his glass, stalling from answering. Cross has had enough, he leans on the table, elbows right next to his untouched plate, white suit unblemished.

“Because I'm here.” He takes your hand, making a show of it for the Burnells. He's using the ‘I love my wife’ card. Surprisingly, it's only the second time he has used it on the rich and stupid. “And my wife deserves to be with her husband, yes?” The couple looks at each other, then returns their attention to you as you try incredibly hard not to vomit all over the table. “I've…ignored her for far too long while I'm always here tending to my own business.” He clasps the back of your hand with his free hand. “We were deeply saddened by her aunt's passing, but I saw a silver lining. Taking the tragedy and turning it into something better by bringing her and her family business here to my home so we could finally start having our own family here without the dark cloud looming over us.” He was right about one thing, your aunt was a dark cloud looming over everyone. Cross leaned close, pecking your hand chastely. “Right, love?”

You close your eyes to prevent yourself from heaving out what little you've eaten. “Right.” Tone small and disgusted, you have the sudden urge to stab his eyes out with a fork. For a second, your mind gives you that exact image. Seeing his blood spurt out from his sockets and spraying on the deviled eggs.

For some reason, even with the disgusted look on your face, the Burnells' hard exterior softens. The missus clutches the pearls on her chest as if she just heard the most romantic story, and the male Burnell nods along with a fond smile. “You two remind me of my first marriage.” His wife chuckles, you frown, eyebrows knitted together as Cross plays along to his concocted story.

They continue their negotiation with more enthusiasm. Hicks pats Cross gladly on the shoulder, already drafting up a contract on a piece of parchment. Thankfully, Cross has let you go. Free to wipe your hand on your dress. You replay the last minute in your mind, like you're stuck in the moment he touched you with his dry lips upon the same hand you used to cradle Hobie's face with.

The conversation fades into the background, a thought passes you by, one that you're too grief stricken to see until now. Why is Cross even helping Hicks? He has the money to fund whatever the factory needs, he doesn't even need to be in the conversation. He has nothing to gain from this. He already has you, so why does he seem so desperate to get this partnership?

Then it hits you, he's as bankrupt as Hicks. Hicks, who drove the company to the ground with his moronic decisions the second your great aunt was in the ground. And Cross, there was never a day in your short marriage with him that he wasn't out gambling his family fortune away, or going to exotic places you've only read in books. When he doesn't have his hands on you, he's at the nearest pub or the derby races, betting everything in his pockets. You always just thought he had that much money to lose. But you were wrong. And the only reason you're here is because of the money your parents have set aside for you, money that is tied up with the company or what is left of it— the company that you own and have the last say in. Until your name isn't written in that contract that Hicks shoves in your face every morning, they have nothing.

“You have nothing.” You blurt out, you don't regret it immediately.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Burnell says, offended.

“Not you, I know you have money.” You place your elbows on the table, chin propped up on your scarred palm. “I was talking about my dear uncle and beloved husband.” Your words drip with venom and sarcasm.

“What are you saying?” Mrs. Burnell asks, concerned, either for your well being with the two men or for the money she almost lost.

“Shut it, Y/N.” Hicks says through gritted teeth, eyes warning you.

“Don't tell a woman to shut up, Hicks.” Surprisingly, Mr. Burnell defends you. “Speak, girl.” And there goes your respect.

“They don't have anything.” Cross tries to yank your hand back but you quickly tug yourself away. “Hicks is lying, the company is losing money, not gaining it. Production has been down since they moved here, probably because Hicks doesn't know how to run a company.”

You continue your tirade without missing a beat. “He was a manager before marrying my aunt, but he was a shit manager. If not for Peter—” you inhale and clear your mind. “All I'm saying is, he's asking for a scapegoat for the debt collectors, not a business partner.” You flick your eyes mockingly towards the seething Hicks. Meanwhile, Cross sits quietly, you're afraid but you have to continue. “I retract my previous words.” Hicks inhales with relief. “It's not probably, it's definitely.” He stutters, trying to save face but you continue. “He's overworking the workers and because of that there's more mistakes. More mistakes means more bullets that come out a little crooked. That's good, if your targets swerve to the left.”

“She's lying!” Hicks laughs shakily, fists slamming down on the table. “You know how women are? She's hysterical because of her aunt's passing.”

You scoff. “You said it yourself, Mr. Burnell, you don't trust Hicks.” All eyes are on you. Your words fill you with pride, Hobie would be proud. “As for Cross, I wouldn't even trust him with my coin pouch.”

The Burnells seemingly believe you, heads turned slowly towards Cross and Hicks, eyes boring holes in their foreheads. “Looks like we wasted our time. You're right, honey, we should've gone for the Winchester instead of this clown show.”

“You believe me?” You ask, bewildered. “That quick?”

“We passed by the factory on our way here, that's why we were late.” Burnell answers back. Already taking his belongings to leave. “We saw the horrid conditions. We were naive to believe that it was like that because you're still getting used to the transition.” He helps his wife up as Hicks follows behind the couple. Cross stays behind silently while you stay with the Burnells in hopes that they'd take you with them. “Thank you, girl.”

“You're welcome, c-can I—” The couple gets in their carriage, eyes blinking at you. “Can I come with you?” You sound like a child, voice trembling in hope that they'll say yes. “Please.”

Hicks chuckles incredulously right next to them, but his eyes grow dark at your request, a warning. Cross appears behind you, green eyes hidden by the shadow of his hat, lips clamped into a fine line.

“What for, girl?” Mr. Burnell asks, “We don't need any more bootlicking. We're not giving you the money for the factory.”

You flex your fists on your sides, eyes darting in between Hicks and Cross. Heart thumping, you have to try. “I don't— it's not that. I don't need the money. I—”

“So you do have the money for the company then? Why bother asking us?” The older man cuts you off, scoffing while his wife rolls her eyes. “Kids these days, so greedy.” He gets in the carriage, following his wife.

“Wait! Please!” It's too late as they run off in the distance. In your desperation, you start to run after them. But before you could go far, Cross stops you with his arms embracing you from behind. “No! Please come back! They're hurting me here—!” Your flailing stops when Hicks steps in front of you with his gun raised.

“Do you have any idea what you've done?” He clicks the hammer down, finger right on the trigger. “You've doomed us.”

With tears in your eyes, Cross holds you against him tighter. Chest aching, breath stolen from you. “No, just you!” Yet, you continue to fight. You might've lost hope a long time ago if not for Hobie. Hope that you'll get out like last time, hope that Hobie will be there waiting for you. But there's a part of you that just wants to let go. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with familiar green eyes that used to fill you with calm. “And you.”

“I should shoot you right here.”

“Do it then. But you can't because without my signature you're fucking broke!” With a cackle, Hicks yanks the back of your head, taking you from Cross' arms, dragging you towards the well. Body scraping against soil, you try to scratch at his hands but it doesn't deter him as his anger fuels him.

“Fucking bitch, you keep ruining shit!” He yanks you to your feet, and then pressing your front to the mouth of the well while pushing you down harshly, making you look down at the depths.

You yelp, sharp rocks digging into your stomach, eyes forced to look down at the deep dark well. It's cold down there, you wonder if this is what it felt like for Hobie back at the farm. Staying quiet, your hands grip the sides to keep your balance, a bead of sweat falling down and leaving ripples as it hits the stagnant water.

“What, no begging or screaming and crying this time?” Hicks latches on your hair tightly, scalp burning from his hold.

“I've gotten used to the dark. You won't hear me begging ever again.” Your voice echoes down to the bottom. “You can't hurt me anymore, not in the way that matters.” Releasing your hold on the sides, you lean closer to the edge. Expecting the cold embrace and the familiar weightlessness, it doesn't come.

There's a scoff above before you're let go. “I have to correct your fuck up.” He seethes, giving your leg a swift kick as you lay your head on the stone. “Deal with her.”

“I'm not one of your employees, Hicks.” Cross challenges him.

“She's your fucking wife. You discipline her while I go to the factory. As for you,” he flicks the shell of your ear. “Your name better be on that contract when I get back.” You hear their continued bickering whilst you even out your breathing. Just like what Hobie would tell you.

After a rustle of clothing and dress shoes thumping on the ground, you fall on your knees, still clutching the well. Face hidden from Cross, he sighs, hand reaching towards you. Feeling the sickening familiarity of his hand wrapped around your arm, you instinctively flinch away.

“Why couldn't you just obey, just this once?”

You heave, furrows knitted in anger. Looking over your arm, your glare sends goosebumps up his arms. “I'm not one of your hounds.”

“Then why do you kneel like one?” The sun behind him engulfs his entire form, turning him into a breathing shadow.

“Go fuck yourself, Cross.” You shakily stand up while avoiding his gaze. Walking towards the house, you clench your fists until you feel your blunt nails leave pin pricks of crimson

“I'm trying here, Y/N. You're making it impossible.” He yanks you back, neck craned to the side to look at you. “I'm holding back but you're not making this easy.”

“You sound like this is all my fault.” You still avoid his eyes, forgoing to look at the tree behind him. “I'm not the one who gambled all your money away. And I didn't force you to marry me.” His fingers pull you closer.

“Look at me.”

“Fuck you—” you try to escape but he's stronger.

“Look at me just like how you look at him.” He forcefully turns your head with his hand burrowing into your chin.

With apprehension, you chuckle, a cracked dry laughter. Your eyes slowly move to the green eyes in front of you. “I'll never look at you like that. Nothing you do will make me look at you with the same love I give to him.”

Cross swallows thickly, jaw tightening. “Why him?”

“It felt right. We share the same heart.” It's the first truth you've said in a month, and for once you smile genuinely. “I'll always love him, remember that.”

He inhales, and you wait for the impact.

“Sir?” The housekeeper asks from the side, hands wringing in front of her. “Is everything alright?” Her brown hair shimmers in the sun like copper, lips turned into a fine line.

She reminds you of the former housekeeper that tried to help you by taking your letter addressed to Hobie. Cross found out about it, you haven't seen her since then.

“We're alright, Belinda.” Cross lets you go, leaving a mark on your arm. “Fetch me my hunting rifle.”

You leave with haste, hands shaking as you hitch your skirt up. You can feel his sickly green eyes on you, like a shadow that envelops you whole.

You've crossed the line, and you fear that this is the end for you.

—

Pacing around your room, you walk around and hold your breath. It's like waiting for the gallows, waiting for the bullet to hit you. Hobie's ring is back on your finger instead of what Cross gave you on your wedding day, which is the exact same one you left on the bedside table when you escaped. You twist it around your finger as the room shifts and twirls in your vision.

The room is finely decorated with daffodils painted on the walls, gold fixtures on the ceiling with painted deers trotting overhead on fields of green on the ceiling. The room looks like it used to be a child's room. A pale blue bed sits in the middle of the room, draped in a satin canopy. It's a stark contrast to the room back at the farm, all wood and none of the gilded walls. But you'd choose that a hundred times over if given the chance. Especially if Hobie's there waiting for you.

You feel like you're slowly disappearing into the walls.

Your eyes have been glued to the door as you chew your nails. You'd lock the doors from the inside if the locks weren't instead bolted from the outside. Tears brim at your eyes, but you refuse to let it go as you sniff. You miss your home, you miss the smell of dew in the morning. You miss Clover and how she cuddles on your side. You miss Cherry and Bucky and your afternoon rides with them. You miss him, you miss Hobie and how he holds you gently, how he talks to you about things. It's him talking so you'd listen and speak with him until the sun decides to sleep. You miss his voice telling you that everything will be alright.

You wonder if everything will still be alright when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door.

Cross doesn't knock, and you wait at the foot of your bed, standing straight, eyes forward and daunting despite your fear. If he shoots you through the door now, would Hobie be there to greet you on the other side as darkness engulfs you one last time?

This house will be a tomb. Your tomb.

The door doesn't creek as Cross opens it. “Hunt with me, just like old times.” He has a rifle strapped to his back, suit traded in for his haunting gear, still clad in white leather. Your eyes flick over to the two guns on his belt. If only you could take it from him. Or at least one.

“Giving me a gun? Do you think that's wise?” You cross your arms over your chest, clearing your throat so he doesn't notice the shaking of your voice.

“Why? You'd shoot me in the back?” He asks chidingly.

“In a heartbeat.” You say without even a hint of a joke. “What's even out there, Cross? What are we hunting down?”

“A deer.”

“I don't think there are any deer out here.” A dangerous silence hangs in the air, choking you as he stares deeply at you. You inhale, swallowing down your fear as best as you can. “If you give me a knife instead, I will stab your eye out. Killing other things won't keep us from killing each other.”

He clicks his tongue, hand on the gun like he's mocking you. “Take the dog instead.” Taking the leash off his belt he holds it out for you. “A dog for a hound. At least this one is loyal.”

“Which end of the leash is the hound?”

“What do you want, Y/N, hm?” Tossing the leash harshly, he stalks closer, and you flinch back. A doe caught in the coyote's eye. “I broke your heart, I get it. Do you want me to apologize to you?”

“My heart? That's the only thing you haven't broken yet.” He stops a few feet away from you, yet still too close to you. “You broke my body until I could barely recognize myself anymore. My arms bear the shape of your nails, my scalp remembers the sharp tugs of your hands.” You exhale as a tear falls down your cheek. “Hobie broke my heart, but he pieced it together, piece by tiny piece.” You point at him repeatedly. “You, you broke everything else.”

“If this is about your aunt—”

“Fuck you! This isn't about her.” If this is really your end, you don't want to leave without saying the words you've been meaning to say out loud. You tremble for a second before grinning with tears in your eyes. "I'm glad she's gone. Her hold on me is gone.” You chuckle breathlessly, sighing loudly. “There I said it. It's like a boulder has been lifted off my shoulders.”

“Y/N,” there it is, the patronizing tone he uses on you. He's about to guilt you into something you haven't had a hand in, or chastise you like a child.

“Stop being so fucking delusional, take the blinders off for one fucking minute.” The fire in you latches on you. “This is about you and how you hurt me the second you brought me home after the wedding. You knew that I never wanted to marry anyone else, and that my aunt and Hicks hurt me back home. And instead of helping me, taking me away from them, you joined them.”

“I got you out of there. I married you.”

You laugh without an ounce of humour, clapping wildly. “Well thank you very much, Cross!”

“I tried for a little while, Y/N. But I'm your husband, and you continued to disobey so I had to go to them, ask them for advice.” He walks closer, you stop him with a hand in front of you, as if it will shield you from him. You've tried that once, it didn't work.

“Nothing you do will make me forgive you. I hope you drown in your guilt if you even have an ounce of it. I hope you lay awake at night thinking of how much you hurt me. I'd rather die than forgive you.” Cross steps forward with an unreadable expression, and the back of your knees hits the bed as you try to get away. You eye the gun, you fear that you won't keep your promise to Hobie.

The world already ended for you when Hicks killed him.

Cross tries again. You think it'll be the last time he will the second he walks closer to you, so close that you can see yourself in his eyes. “Sign the papers, Y/N, and everything will be over.”

“You know the second I sign it, Hicks will kill me.” Your eyes wander towards his unlatched gun.

“I won't let that happen.”

You laugh in his face, “Sure, but you'll let him hurt me. Might as well sign my death warrant instead.” Standing back up, you inch towards him bravely despite your instincts telling you to shield yourself. You have to get that gun. “I–I tried to love you at first, and remained optimistic in this marriage.” His eyes are on your face, irises darting over your lips while you sneak your hand towards his gun belt slowly. “Even indulging my idiotic childish whims of what a marriage could be like. But I couldn't, not when you hurt me just like they did. Only because I didn't love you like how you thought I would.” Your hand finds the cold metal, fingers wrapping around the handle. “For a second there I thought you'd be my saviour, when in fact it was the opposite. You joined them instead. You were just as bad as them.”

You stand toe to toe with him. You hear a glass breaking downstairs, and then the smell of something familiar. Snatching the gun quickly, you aim it at his stomach, steel meeting flesh. You feel the same sensation against your chest.

“I love you.” Cross utters, finger right on the trigger.

“I've seen love, this isn't it.” With your cold words, you shoot.

Both guns go off.

Both hitting their targets.

—

The sun is just beginning to set, orange peeking from the horizon, hues of pink and orange blanketing the three men. Each inhale from the cigarette perched in each of their lips has grey smoke filtering through their lungs. They should be guarding the front door like they were hired to do, instead they chainsmoke their way out into an early grave while hiding behind the estate, facing the vast green marsh that hides their debauchery from the rest of the world.

“You hear any cryin’ last night?” The one with an auburn beard asks, his rifle leaning against the wall right next to him instead of in his hand like it was supposed to be in.

A dark haired man answers, belching out smoke while crouched on the ground, eyes narrowed at the whispering willows. “Yeah, i think the stable boy wasn't lying, there's a fuckin' ghost here.”

“You two think it's a fucking ghoul or some shit?” The third one replies with a scoff, blonde hair peeking out from his hat as he takes a swig of moonshine.

“Yeah,” The first two responds, spine tingling when a cold breeze passes through them.

“It's the boss’ wife, not a ghost, you morons.” As the yellowed haired man responds, a bright flicker of light appears in between the willow trees. “What the fuck?” The two men next to him follows his terrified gaze, cigarettes falling off their lips.

The light moves, as if it dances in the wind. It flickers, brightening up into an orange glow before turning yellow once again. The three outlaws move from the wall, eyes glued on the mesmerizing ball of light.

“Fuck, it's a swamp ghost—” the one with the red beard gasps, choking on his own blood, frantically trying to stop his neck from gushing out ichor with a knife stuck to his throat.

The other two only had a split second to react before a sharp knife slashes at their exposed necks. They mirror each other, shirts stained with red, palms coated in warmth and crimson while they frantically try to stop the bleeding. They croak and creak out, eyes managing to fall upon hazel eyes, and one with his face covered in soot. They both hold a glinting knife, blood still trickling down from the steel.

Miguel leaves from his hiding place in the thicket, eyes flicking briefly towards their twitching forms before returning his gaze at the ball of light. He nods to Riri and Karl, who stand above the corpses. And then he gestures with his gloved hand, giving the warm light a small nod.

The light comes closer, footsteps echoing as boots sink in moist soil— appearing behind the darkness of the trees and into the fading light of the sun. Hobie's face is revealed behind the light with a lit cigarette in between his lips, shadows dancing around the fury behind his green eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. He inhales before flicking the cigarette away, falling into a puddle. More appear behind him, trees and bushes parting before the dozen men and women following in his steps.

“Karl, light the oleander for me will you?” Hobie tosses the bag of pink flowers in Karl's waiting hands. And then he takes his knife back from the auburn haired corpse, wiping it on the grass before sheathing it back on his belt.

“D’you think that'll work? What if she gets caught in it?” Riri whispers, gesturing for the gang to crouch down and hide beside the wall where the trio were last seen smoking.

Hobie drags one of the bodies, hiding it behind the bushes while the rest of the gang help with the other two. He follows Riri, blood rushing in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins at how close you are from him. It's only a matter of time before you're back safe and sound.

“She knows the smell, she'll cover her nose.” His voice doesn't waver, but his insides are turning and twisting inside him. He can't fail. “As for everyone, cover your damn noses, and protect your eyes as much as you can.”

“This won't kill us right?” Karl weighs the bag in his hands.

Miguel checks his bullets beside him, giving Hobie and Riri a once over if their weapons are lacking. “At most it'll make us sick and itch. Right, Hobie?”

“Just don't inhale it directly.” Hobie yanks his bandana up to his nose, fitting it snugly. He notices his hands shaking, closing his fists tightly, he cannot fail. A month of tracking you down can't end with him failing to save you, he can't lose you. “You know what to do, Karl. Ri go with him.”

“Hobie,” she clasps the back of his fist. “Be careful, alright? If you get hurt, call Roberto, he'll treat you.” Inhaling sharply, she pats his cheek. “Get her back but don't die on us, alright?”

Hobie couldn't look directly at Riri, “She goes first, Ri.”

“I know, that's why we brought Roberto with us, remember? He's the doctor, he knows what to do and…what to expect, if need be.”

Hobie nods, staring at his family. “Thank you for backing me up, I owe you. All of you.”

“Don't die and we're even, Hobie.” Miguel pats Hobie's bicep before heading to his designated position.

“What he said,” Karl smiles brightly, fist connecting to Hobie's clenched one gently. “Also if I don't return from this, Robbie's gonna fucking kill you, man.”

Hobie cracks a smile. “Yeah, I know. Try to stay alive for the both of us then.” Karl makes his way towards the front while Riri staggers behind, still holding onto Hobie's hand. “Just like Valentine, right?” Riri smiles, hiding her trepidation behind her bandana. He fixes the cloth over her face carefully, tugging it over her nose and ears. “Keep that snug.” She could only nod, eyes brimming with tears. “Don't die on us too, Ri.” With a quick embrace, she leaves, following behind Karl who was waiting for her.

Hobie takes a second to breathe. He has done things like this a hundred times before, but never with you on the line. He can't leave without you like last time. He won't cower behind wooden walls like last time, he's not gonna stand here and tremble and rot and bleed. He's going to get you back. He knows he will.

There's a gunshot echoing inside the estate just as when a glass window breaks, signaling the beginning of the end.

—

The house falls and chaos reigns. They tried to stick to their plan of using stealth, but of course someone saw them and alerted everyone in their presence. Karl got the oleander thrown inside the halls, puffs of pinkish fumes swell out from the bag. Hobie sees the result of it as black smoke turns the estate into the pits of hell. Hobie's eyes waters but he continues to strike anyone who wasn't on his side. He throws his spiked whip towards someone who tried to shoot at Karl, the barbed whip rakes and breaks skin as he tugs and pulls until the man falls down next to his shredded flesh.

Screams echo around the estate, his posse lets go of the innocent unarmed employees while the others aren't so lucky the second they aim back.

They try to fight their way inside, finally thinning the outlaws outside as flames trickle from the burning bag towards the velvet curtains. Embers climb up until they hit the ceiling, fire licking at the once white walls, leaving burn marks in its wake.

A few of the hired guns surrender after recognising Miguel's gang, some were fools who tried to shoot them down but his allies were in greater numbers. More experienced, more bloodthirsty than the hired guns.

All the winning cards are in his hand, all he needs to do is play them right.

“Miguel!” Hobie yells while he and three others try to push through the main doors that refuse to budge open.

Miguel, who was currently brawling with a man taller than him, grunts when a fists harshly connects at his jaw. Hobie curses under his breath, without wasting a second, he aims and shoots. Gunpowder fills his lungs once more as the burly man falls on top of Miguel in a thud.

Hobie stalks towards Miguel, he shoots someone who was aiming at him on his left, his bullet doesn't miss even without him looking at the target. He grabs the body by its vest, yanking it off Miguel.

“Get up,” he reaches for the breathless gang leader, hazel eyes smiling at his old friend.

“I had that, Hobie!” Despite his broken nose, Miguel is back on his feet the moment he takes Hobie's helping hand. “Retirement, huh?”

Hobie shakes his head with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Fuckin' retirement.” Reloading his gun, he goes back to the locked doors with Miguel now in tow. “On three!” His shoulders meet with the oak, “one!” Miguel nods next to him, bracing himself on the door. “Two!” A few more join in, ready to push the moment he says, “three!”

The doors burst open, splintering wood scattering, smoke coming out into the fray. Hobie meets with Sheriff Lee's eyes before a bullet hits him directly on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” He falls on his knees, clutching his wound as blood seeps through his fingers.

“Should've left when you had the chance, Mr. Brown!” Lee taunts, reloading his hunting rifle, giving Miguel enough time to drag Hobie back outside and placed behind the wall. “Come back here, murderer!”

A few shots ring out, both parties exchanging bullets. Your face appears in front of him before it’s replaced by the doctor's face. He needs to get you out quickly before the oleander takes hold. Hands tie a bandana around his wound, Hobie stands up the second that the cloth is tightened.

“Keep that on!” Roberto yells above the booming gunfire. “I’ll fix you properly right after this!”

Hobie nods, blinking the haze away. Miguel shakes him awake while avoiding his injury. “Lee's down! We'll handle the rest down here, we heard that she's upstairs.”

“Okay,” Hobie inhales and exhales, I'm almost there, love.

When the bullets stop flying inside the now bullet ridden manor, he steps foot inside. Glass crunches at his feet, eyes darting and alert from any surprises. He sees bodies littered on the marble floors, both from his side and Lee's. The sheriff lays under a pile of broken vase, eyes wide open, fingers still enclosed around his gun. The smoke thickens, and he hears blasts reverberating around the house.

Miguel's posse storms the place, pocketing whatever shines inside the house. A few more bullets are shot from deep inside the walls, but it's clear who's the winner. Hobie just wants you back.

Just as when he's about to climb the winding stairs with his throbbing shoulder, he sees a man stagger out from a room. “Is that—?” The bloodied man in the hunting gear trips and falls off the railing, plunging down right next to where Hobie's standing.

Cross lays on his own puddle of rubies, a gaping hole in his stomach instead of his insides. “H-help me,” Begging, he looks at Hobie with his bloodshot eyes, reaching towards Hobie's leg with his broken hand. “She's upstairs. Y-you can have her.”

“Is that him?” Miguel asks, and Riri appears from the side. Eyes watching the wounded man. Hobie nods, eyes never leaving Cross.

Hobie aims at Cross' head, seething. “She is not a thing to be had.” His aim stays true, but he shakes his head, lowering his gun down. “Nah, I'll let her bullet kill you.”

Miguel smirks, while Riri and him have a silent communication. “Don't worry, Hobie, we got rich boy.” He takes out his lasso from his waist, crossing the distance towards the dying Cross.

Riri gestures for Hobie to continue up the stairs. “Go! We'll be waiting.”

With a grateful nod, Hobie runs up the stairs towards his fire and his light. His heavy footsteps echo, breathing staggered as he thinks of you. What if he finds you in the same condition as Cross? What would he do if he sees you bleeding out? So he runs despite his own injuries, to see you again, to hold you again.

He follows the blood trail once he gets close enough, instead of your smiling face greeting him back, he stares at your body covered in crimson. Soft blue bed sheets stained with dark rubies. Arms spread on the bed as you lay on the soft mattress with your eyes unblinking towards the ceiling.

Hobie calls for you, air sucked from his lungs with every step he takes. He reaches for you, tears turning you into a watercolor painting in his vision. Red and blues blending into a watery picture.

You feel like you're in the bottom of a well, staring up at your aunt's sneering face. Your breathing is labored while the bullet is stuck in your chest, right below your ribcage. There's no pain, no feeling in your fingers as you see Hobie's face appear from above. Head perfectly lined up with the deer antlers painted on the ceiling.

“Found the deer, Cross.” You murmur, eyes hazy, lips barely opening.

“Stay awake, love.” Hobie's hand trembles as he rips his bandana off to stave off the bleeding by plugging the wound. You cry from the sudden pain, hands flying towards his wrists. “‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” His tears flow down your cheek. “This'll be over, I need to carry you.”

“Hobie?” Your eyes focus on his face, meeting with his viridescent eyes. “Are you real?” Nails dig into his flesh, you sob, fingers shaking whilst you reach for his face. The pads of your fingers brush along his jaw, stubble returning you back to reality. “I'm so s-sorry, I should've told you.”

“None of that.” He holds onto the back of your hand, letting your palm rest on his cheek, lips brushing along your wrist. The matching rings reflect the growing fire ebbing towards the room.

“It h-hurts, Hobie.”

Sniffing, burning wood enters his lungs, sobs threatening to pull him down to you. “I know, I know.” He wipes the tears and the sweat off your forehead. “But we need to move, love, there's a fire and I need to carry you down.”

You gaze at his green eyes, sorrow and grief twisting and turning behind them. They remind you of home, of Clover, of Cherry and Bucky. And you remember your promise to him, an impossible promise that you will try to keep. But if it means that it's his end too, you have to break it. For his sake.

You grip his shoulders, Hobie notices how weak your hold on him is. “Okay, okay, carry m-me down.” There's a taste of copper in your mouth, lips coated in the bitter taste.

He nods, wiping his tears with his sleeves before sliding his hand behind your back, finding your warm blood sticking to the bedsheets. “I got you.” Whispering against your crown, he lifts you up mere inches away from the bed before you scream in agony. “‘m sorry!” He cries into your hair, your grip weakening even more.

“W-we can try again.” You slide your palm to his nape, “try again, Hobie.”

Hobie flicks his eyes towards you, the light behind your eyes is starting to dim. “Help!” He yells in desperation at the door, in hopes that someone comes bounding up the stairs. “Riri! Miguel! Anyone!”

Your heart breaks, “Hobie, Hobs.” Patting his chest, it's getting harder to breathe. “L-leave. Leave me here.” Hobie's already shaking his head. You smile softly at him, the best you could do despite your body dying. “You have to, you can't die here.”

“And you do?” He cups your face, “we still have forever to go, remember?”

He doesn't want you to come back as a dream anymore, or a shadow embracing him from behind; or a pain in his chest when he hears your name in his mind. He doesn't want your ghostly kiss to taste like ashes on his lips.

He doesn't want you to go.

“I'm sorry, I can't keep my promise. B-but you still can.” You weakly push down at his nape to feel his forehead against yours one last time. Your eyes are starting to close. “Live for me, would you?”

“No, please.” His palm slides right above your heart, feeling your heartbeat slow down. One last time, he yells for help. His throat burns as the ceiling above is engulfed in flames. No one comes to help. “I have to break my promise too, love.”

“Don't, please.”

“A life lived without you isn't a life well lived, remember?”

You accept death in his warm embrace. “I'll see you in a bit then.”

Flames engulf the room in its fiery destruction. Paint melting off the walls, wood and glass cracking under the pressure. And yet, he still holds on to you, lips pressed on your cold lips in a fleeting goodbye.

“Hobie!”

—

In the middle of nowhere sits the remnants of a farm with clovers growing all around it. Vines snaking along what remains of the farm house, and in those vines, pink hydrangeas grow and thrive amidst the cinders. And behind those darkened wood sits two graves with clovers growing on top of the soil. Two names are etched on simple limestone graves, they bear the same last name and same date of death.

Many travelers pass through the place without ever knowing the story behind the two graves. Seasons come and go, flowers bloom and wither. But only a few ever knew what used to stand on the emerald farm. What used to grow, what colour the house was, and who used to live in it. Stories were whispered and told but only a few truly knew the story behind it, few who came and visited and placed flowers on each of the graves.

And in those few, only three of them know that the once abundant farm where two graves were dug right under an oak tree, are empty.

The stories and the graves were enough to fool anyone left that wants to hurt either one of you to turn back and lament.

The true story lies behind the northern border, where pine trees grow up to the skies. Where snow and ice envelops the whole place. Where the two names etched on the gravestones in the empty farm now live.

“Stop bullyin’ your brother.” The dappled foal yelps, trotting away from his much bigger older brother. The dark horse with white splotches turns his bright blue eyes towards Hobie, huffing and puffing like an annoyed teenager. “Don't huff at me,” great, now he's the one talking to horses. “Go tell your dad not to have any more kids. Not my problem, junior.” The young horse rears, running towards the barn where Buckeye and Cherry sleeps.

Hobie leans on the fence, watching the sunrise on his expansive land. Horses and foals run around freely, feeling the cold gust of wind in their manes. A few sheep roam the grounds, while a pair of cows chew their way towards the fences. Snow-capped mountains rise up high in the background, white snow dusted along the rocks like sugar. While the trees dotted along the mountainside makes for the perfect scenic view. He pulls at his jacket closer to himself, fur tickling his nose as he breathes out puffs of smoke from the cold temperature. Winter’s coming, he can feel it in his joints as another breeze rolls in. He smiles in contentment when the air carries the sound of ducks quacking from their coop, and the smell of morning dew passing by. No more does the smell of fiery gunpowder graze his senses, and no sounds of bullets firing ringing in his ears.

He keeps his hat snug on his head, Clover runs by with her litter of puppies tugging along. And he feels you before you arrive by his side. A smile tugs on his lips, hand already reaching for your waist.

“What are you thinking about, cowboy?” You flutter your eyelashes, chin placed in his shoulder.

“That I have it good, too good.”

You give him a tender smile, leaning to kiss his jaw. “None of that. This isn't too good for you, you deserve all of this.”

“Too early to wallow, huh?” Hobie wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and then he twists around to face you fully, back leaning on the fence, admiring you in the bitter blue of dawn.

You find penchants on his sternum, nose nuzzling his scar. “So fucking early.” He laughs, music to your ears.

“Hard to get used to, huh?”

“Kind of, it's a good feeling though, waking up.”

“You feel okay, right?” His palm pats your chest gently where a scar lies. “No breathlessness? Nothin'?”

You sniff at the cool wind, “nothing, I'm fine, Hobie.” You cup his cheek, jaw rounded at the edges, scruff tickling you, he looks as if time hasn't passed. “Nothing to worry about.” He leans towards your touch, fingers bracelet around your wrist gently, lips meeting your skin. “You okay?”

“Never better, love.” His green eyes twinkle, free arm pulling you impossibly closer. “Especially today.”

You tilt your head playfully. “What's today exactly?”

“Cheeky,” he pokes your side. “You know what day it is.”

You feign realization. “Ah! I remember now, Riri and the gang are coming over.”

“Yes, and?” He grins, biting his lower lip, jade eyes crinkling at the corners. Seeing the matching rings on your finger and his own makes him smile wider.

You suck in your teeth, acting like you're thinking. “It's Bucky's birthday?” Hobie rolls his eyes with a chuckle, and you finally relent. “I know what day it is.” You lean away, taking out a letter addressed to Hobie from your pocket. It's filled with affectionate words, loving thoughts and everything in between. It's a love letter just for him. “Happy anniversary, Hobs.”

Hobie's chest fills with a sense of belonging, heart full with his love for you. He keeps the letter in his coat pocket, right above his heart. “Happy anniversary, lovie.” He pulls you back, you giggle as your palm hits his chest, fingers snaking up to his nape to guide him towards your waiting lips.

“Forgot something, cowboy?” You say against his lips, and he nudges your nose with his own.

You feel something grazing against your chin, and when you flick your eyes down, you see a letter written in his hand, addressed to you. You tamp down your excitement, snatching the envelope, giving it a peck and tucking it inside your jean pocket.

“Never, read it together like always?” He pecks your warm lips once, then twice before indulging himself in your warmth.

“Yes,” you utter, breathlessly. “But inside, your tea, and the girls are waiting.”

Hobie chortles, kissing you again before reluctantly pulling away. “They're awake?”

“They smelt breakfast.” You inhale, letting his sandalwood and mint scent waft over you with ease. “If you hurry, there might still be some left for you.” You begin to walk away, hand grasping his palm.

“Alright, just one more then we'll go.” He pulls you back to his chest gently as you giggle atop his lips. He kisses you like he did all those years ago.

In the middle of nowhere, his story begins. And in the middle of nowhere, his story ends with you.

A/N: Thank you so much for sticking around this long! Our beloved cowboy is finally happy and at peace 🥺 If you loved reading OPIN please consider reblogging ❤️

[yandere-toons]

General romantic Count Duckula headcanons

Even after you've had a date he will open doors for you with the line “ladies first” every time, he's such a dork.

Goosewing is convinced that you've been enchanted by Duckula, I mean in hindsight it's Duckula that got enchanted by you but otherwise he's not 100% wrong.

In the episode Amnesiac Duck Igor lies to Duckula that he has “his own personal maiden awaiting up in his room” as he puts it to make his master go after you. Unfortunately his plane fails as you charmed your way into Count Duckula's heart effortlessly.

You make Count Duckula extremely happy, he cherishes you, you bring a sort of normalcy to his life that he never had. He's scared that his vampire heritage will scare you away so he tries to keep it a secret, but unbeknownst to him you already know of his rather peculiar traits. Through the stigma and reputation vampires have you see what a genuine but flawed individual Duckula is, and that's why you love him. You can't imagine the burden that was lifted off his shoulders as you told him that it didn't matter to you if he was a vampire or not. All his worries of you running off goes away with a long content sigh as you run your hands through his hair singing him praises and reassuring things to put him at ease.

If you make food for him he will explode with euphoria, finally some good fucking food that isent cardborde or seacretly contains blood.

Despite his big talk he's a real softy, he will melt in your arms. But besides that he has the occasion of getting really jealous, if he's going to live up to his proclaimed repetition then he's gotta one up the competition.

As much as he'd love to take you out to a really fancy restaurant, picnic dates (or any date that doesn't involve the castle) are always great.

Duckula would be playing the basketball game in the arcade, point at you and say “this one's for you babe” and completely miss. He's trying his best to get enough tickets to buy that really big teddy bear for you at the prize corner.

Pleses, give this man actual constructive criticism. I am begging you.

Yknow, with all the lovey-dovey stuff you're both up to he might actually consider watching a romcom, he would probably prefer that against the horror movie you wanted to watch.

He's your personal hype man, if you're arguing with someone he's there to back you up.

Duckula would take you anywhere using the castle, your wish is his command.

Igor is secretly repulsed by your lovey-dovey-nes, Nanny was reluctant at first but warmed up to you pretty fast. She's just happy to see her Duckyboos so overjoyed.

I might make more in the future, also i made a playlist about the lil guy, check it out if you're interested.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6LoGU8N63m4PJxlzYiSnq2

I can just imagine Igor rolling his eyes and grumbling at the dinner table every time you and Duckula have a food fight.

He grumbles about how Count Duckula the 16th would suck blood hourly and how far the lineage has supposedly fallen, only to get excited when Duckula sprays you with a line of ketchup.

His disappointment reigns supreme after you start to laugh with his master and Nanny wipes the ketchup off you with a dish towel. "Don't play with your food!" she chides, her high-pitched voice betraying some amusement.

Nice playlist, too. I like the assortment of songs about zombies having fun and the undead in general, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a song from Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island!

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

To love a hero

A/n: So I'm really sad right now and I'm gonna project that onto my writings, sorry in advance

Plot: Loving a hero is a difficult and heart wrenching task

Pairing: Peter parker x male reader

Y/n: Your name

L/n: Last name

N/n: Nickname

H/c: Hair color

Warnings: lotta angst, happy ending because I’m not a monster, cussing, major character injury

Word count: 1774

Y/n L/n and Peter Parker went way back, even farther than Peter and Ned. The two had been friends since Pre-K, and only grew closer as the years went by. The two were almost interpretable, if one of the boys was seen, the other was close by.

No one really understood their friendship, but no one questioned it either. In high school the two boys became impossibly closer, Y/n was the first to know about Peter’s abilities, the brunette couldn’t keep something so big from his best friend. Y/n was there and helped make his first suit, the boy was there to soothe his aching bones and to nurse his blossoming bruises.

The pair shared an unbreakable bond, they were what love stories depicted. The love between them was seen by everyone but the two. Of course, Peter knew he was in love with Y/n and vice versa, but for two genius’ they were both dumbasses. Hell, even Tony stark noticed the young love blossoming, the billionaire could see how much the pair adored each other.  

On multiple occasions he’d tried to coerce the young superhero into admitting his feelings but was always given the same response.

“Y/n doesn’t like me like that Mr. Stark, I’m not ruining our friendship over my feelings.” Simple and to the point, but it drove Tony insane that the young genius was so fucking blind. He opted against bringing it up again after seeing such clear pain in Peter’s eyes every time they talked about it, being a bystander as time passed by.

Maybe Peter couldn’t see how enamored Y/n was with him, but Tony could. Especially as he clutched the said boy against his chest as he let out guttural and heart wrenching sobs.

It had all started off as a normal Saturday, Peter was over at Y/n’s the two sitting on the couch and watching some unknown movie, it was purely background noise. The two boys were to focused on each other and their conversation to care about the movie. The domestic peace was ruined by Peter’s phone chiming, a familiar sound that always caused dread to run down Y/n’s spine.

It was the sound of Peter’s police scanner, hearing the radio chatter begin. “Unknown entity in central park, currently creating a perimeter and pushing back civilians, backup requested.” The look of determination crossed over Peter’s features, and if Y/n knew Peter would listen, he’d beg for him to let the avengers take care of it.

“That’s my cue, I’ll see you later N/n!” Peter did a mock salute to his best friend, easily escaping the home via window. For some unknown reason Y/n felt on edge, his gut tightening painfully. He immediately flicked on the news, only having to wait a few moments before the familiar figure of spiderman flung into frame.

The fight was nerve wrecking, watching as the Villain and superhero alike exchanged punches and kicks, and Y/n knew Peter was probably making stupid quips to keep his anxiety under control. The H/c haired boy gnawed on his bottom lip as he watched the fight escalate, getting more violent by the second.

The villain had hit Peter with all their might, and Y/n could only watch as the boy he loved more than anything was flung against a building before he crumpled to the ground. It was as the world stood still, stealing all the breath from Y/n’s lungs as the figure of spiderman didn’t budge, he didn’t get up. Peter promised he’d always get back up.

He felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on, air was to thick to breathe and he could feel the moisture running down his face and the devastated cry that left his lips went unheard. The boy couldn’t really remember when Happy arrived at his house, a grim expression on his face as he looked at the disheveled teenager.

Y/n couldn’t remember the drive to the compound, it was as if his brain had just shut down, leaving him devoid of any life. Maybe that’s what Peter was like right now, devoid of life. His constant chatter silenced, his jittery movements stilled, his beautiful face pulled into the blank look of death.

The teenage boy could remember that Happy had to pull over so Y/n could vomit on the side of the road, silent sobs clenching his lungs in their vice. Never in all of his short life had he felt so much pain, never had he begged for the sweet release of darkness as he did now.

The H/c haired boy begged any god that would listen for this to be a nightmare, that he’d wake up and he and Peter would still be on the couch. The brunette would tease him for falling asleep, but he’d take anything to make this pain go away.

When he finally got to the compound and saw Tony waiting, the same grim look on his face as happy, it felt like every last shred of his strength and control was gone. Y/n collapsed into Tony’s arms, breaking into pieces. He only processed a few words “surgery” “critical” and “I’m so sorry.” Everything blended together as the billionaire led him to the medical wing, holding onto the breaking teenager, as if his touch would mend him.

Hours felt like eternity, it was hellish. The sobs that once left the teenager were turned into deafening silence, the occasional sniffle leaving the boy, comforting Tony that the child was in fact still alive.

May had shown up at some point, Y/n couldn’t honestly remember when, or honestly care. Not when he felt like part of himself was missing, leaving a gaping hole where Peter once was.

Good news came in the form of a doctor informing them, at hour 4 of waiting, that Peter had survived the surgery and was now stable. If it wasn’t for his healing factor, the teenager would’ve been dead. He was under sedatives currently, so his body could work solely on healing.

It felt like a weight off of everyone’s chest, he was okay, alive and breathing. The 3 walked in silence to Peter’s room, May and Y/n taking their respective sides on Peter, as Tony sat at the foot of the bed.

Hours were spent in silence, May haven fallen asleep not to long after receiving the news that Peter was okay. Tony and Y/n stayed awake, both lost in their own thoughts. The teenager held Peter’s hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles silently. His eyes rarely left the still form, scared that if he looked away the boy would disappear from his grasp.

“Yknow what sucks about loving a hero?” Y/n’s broken voice cut through the silence, starling Tony from his thoughts. He didn’t reply, his gaze falling on the teenager. Y/n looked over at Tony and fuck that look should never be on a child. He looked so broken, so tired.

“I know he’s going to die long before me, and I’ll be stuck in this fucked up world without him.” A humorless laugh broke through the boys’ lips, it sounded watery and oh so broken. “I’m not ready to live without him Tony.” A quiet sob left his lips, his free hand going to stifle it.

“I love him so much, and it scares me so fucking bad.” Y/n’s eyes moved back over to Peter, shakily bringing the sleeping boy’s hand up to kiss his knuckles. Tony felt his chest tighten painfully; this was really a reminder that they were just kids who grew up way to fast.

“He’s not going to die Y/n, not if I have anything to say about it.” Tony replied in a surprisingly gentle but determined tone. He’d be damned if he let this pair get separated, Peter and Y/n deserved to be together. To grow up together and create a life.

The room fell into silence after that, neither of them wanting to broach the topic again. In the early hours of the morning Peter’s doe like eyes opened once more. Every inch of his body ached with an indescribable pain, and he had to hold back a grimace. He was surprised to see the 3 most important people in his life strewn about the room, two fast asleep. Y/n was still awake though, clasping Peter’s hand like a lifeline has his tired eyes burned into the sheets.

Peter gave his best friends hand a gentle squeeze, but it was enough for the boy’s head to shoot up so fast Peter was scared he’d get whiplash. “Peter! Oh, thank God.” The H/c haired boy breathed out, and even through his eyes were red and puffy from tears and purple bags so dark they looked like bruises bloomed under his eyes, he was still the most gorgeous creature Peter had ever seen.

Peter gave a weak smile, squeezing his hand once more. “How long have I been out?” He questioned; head tipped to the side like a curious puppy. “About 12 hours.” Y/n replied, voice cracking slightly.

The gentle aura Y/n held around him quickly disappeared into one of anger. “If you ever do that to me again Peter I swear to God, I’ll kill you myself.” Y/n spit out angrily, but the anger was gone as fast as it had appeared.

“I thought you died, and that was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I love you, and I’d rather you be with the land of the living.” The confession was made by a boy to tired to process he had said it.

Peter felt a wave of guilt crash over him at the boy’s confession. He knew now wasn’t the time to talk on the subject. “I’m okay N/n and trust me I won’t be doing that again any time soon. Why don’t we sleep and talk again in the morning?”

Peter was exhausted, and he knew his best friend was too, they could talk about this at a later date. As Y/n made a sound of agreement, laying his head against the mattress, Peter knew that everything would be okay. It didn’t matter what horrors he faced, or what pain he went through. He had made a promise to Y/n. He’d get up every time, and he’d be damned if he ever made the Boy he loved go through that pain again.

[willowistic22]

New jomike hc au!post college

I came up with this au in my head for awhile now some hc’s regarding this new au on a whim bcs i wanted to tell my friends abt it on a discord server. I thought it’s time it sees the light of day bcs i simply cannot keep it in me anymore. Also this is kind of inspired by the song Dorothea - Taylor Swift. 

Everyone is graduating so que the sappy goodbyes as they’re all gonna be scattered not just all around the us but also all around the world

The couples made a truce whether to do long distance or they share the same dreams so they do it together

But mike and jojo didn’t make things work in the end so they broke up before graduation but still went to prom together

y’know those kinds of high school hearthache

Bcs Mike stayed in new york but jojo flew away (like england or sumn idk) 

To some fancy elite school bcs he’s smart yknow

He wanted to from the start but he’s always been a bit torned bcs he knew from the start of the relationship mike was the one (call it stupid young love or whatever you want, i call it destiny:))

And mike never wanted to hold him down so he was the one that proposed the idea to him

For the most part it worked out

Jojo flew away to chase his dreams

Mike stayed and did the same thing

Both of them only kinda sorta moved on. Met new people but never fully stopped thinking abt the other. Wishing the other was by their side right now

And so they’ve gotten their degrees and gotten their dream jobs

Mike is a coder working in a video game company while jojo is in social media marketing after finishing business school (or whatever major required for that job field idk)

And they kinda hv their life together. Jojo living on his own in a studio apartment with a cat called Dorothea (see what i did there:)) money doesn’t concern him all that much bcs the job pays nicely and he’s good at handling his finances 

Mike lives alongside with his brother ike in a nice apartment too. He manages to get a position that allows him to work flexibly at home yknow. He also has a new kitten he saved from the streets named Honey (bcs his fur is orange like honey) and since his older cat had died of old age

But mike lives with ike who also lives with hotshot. So he’s like always the third wheel. Even worse when ike and hotshot are hving the occasional double date with race and spot. Mike feels even more worse at those time

Decides to hide away in his room or go out with the excuse being work

And its even worse remembering he used to go on double dates with ike and hotshot when him and jojo were still a thing

So ike is like ‘yknow what? I hv enough of this shit’ and hv one good brother to brother talk

‘Dude. It’s been years already. How are you not over him?’

‘Bcs he’s jojo...’

‘Ok? So why don’t you call him?’

It’s not like mike has never thought of calling him. Very much possible. They still follow each other’s social media’s so if his old number had changed he cld always just ask from a simple dm since mike knows jojo is still active in his social media accs

But mike is like ‘i can’t. He cld be taken for all i know. Even if he weren’t, he seems to be doing fine on his own’

‘You can’t really get to know a person through instagram posts. Remember how you tried that the first time you wanted to ask him out? You thought he didn’t like guys and yet still went on a date with you anyways’

That was a real slap in the face type of sentence yknow so mike is working up a lot of courage and planned a lot on what he’s gonna do

He first wanted to message jojo. Seeing if it’s still okay to call and all. But he cldn’t figure out what to say so he procrastinated on that part

Ike got sick of it so he took the phone from mike and messaged ‘can we call? I miss you’

Mike was hovering in between i will murder you or thank you @ ike

Either way jojo texts back with his new number. It’s gonna add up on his usual phone bill but he thinks it’s worth it.

Ok so they talked for like soooo long

7?8?hours?

Basically the whole night for mike

It felt like high school all over again

They were just catching up with each other and talking abt absolute bullshit at the same time

Till they got to the point where they mentioned how they’re both single and the air kinda shifts

Deep down mike and jojo knows what this means

As far as jojo is concerned, mike was the one that messaged him that he misses him

It’s easy now for mike to word out come home without indirectly saying it out loud in case that’s not what jojo wants

Bcs after that catching up, he knows that as much as it’s a dream for jojo to work at a big well known fashion brand (he’s pretty fashionable lmao) and get free products that are usually hella expensive from the brand, he hates everyone he works with. Real snobs and ruthless when it comes to getting a higher position

The other things abt his new life is pretty interesting and he loves it. But he admits there’s always been something missing and mike so badly wants to be that something missing in jojo’s new life

So it comes out straight forward. Not like how mike had planned, but it works in the end. ‘Come home’

And jojo does exactly that. He agrees to come home for the weekend. He books a ticket to new york then back with only a carry on duffle bag filled with a few assortments of clothing and booked it out after telling dorothea he won’t be long.

He rushes to the airport bcs he kinda booked the flight that leaves for new york as soon as possible. Perhaps deep down jojo really does know what he’s been missing in his life?

He lands in new york on a friday night new york time

Mike tells him not to worry abt what he’s wearing bcs he just wants to meet jojo at a central park bench that has long became an important spot for them

Jojo insisted on meeting as soon as he lands which is tonight. So the whole time he’s in the cab, he’s like soooo shaky and nervous it kinda drove the cab driver anxious as well. Bcs like jojo’s not talking and didn’t like say anything abt why he’s going to central park this late at night and not to some fancy hotel as most travelers wld do when they first arrive at new york

The moment the cab stops, jojo basically threw him a wad of cash. Probably too much than the actual price of the ride but he just called out from the back of his shoulder saying it’s a huge tip. Secretly, he’s thanking the cab driver for not asking him why he’s in new york and why central park at this time. It’d most likely make him even more nervous

He’s running on the path. He doesn’t reach full speed bcs his duffle bag is weighing him down. He doesn’t even know why he’s going so fast. It’s not like mike has anything else planned

Picture jojo frantically looking around the area like he’s a lost little boy in the dark. Barely seeing anyone else in ten vicinity, so any figure out at this ungodly time rn cld only mean is mike.

But he’s growing worried bcs it doesn’t seem like he’s around

Until ofc ‘jojo!’

Jojo whips his head around and sees Mike walking up to the bench from a different direction

They didn’t really do anythign at the start. They just stared at each other while standing in the dark approximately 10 feet apart. Jojo waits for a sign from mike to do anything else, though mike was doing the same thing for jojo

Until mike decides to break the 1 minute long silence ‘jojo-‘

But he didn’t continue bcs jojo was already running up to him the moment his mouth moves and tackles him into the tightest hug ever

His duffle bag was dropped halfway from the run so there was no holding back. The hug very much pushed mike’s soul out of his figure as much as it did to his body

Thankfully, mike hugged back just as tight. If not, it was a sign for jojo that it wasn’t okay to go in for a hug just yet and he wld pull back really quick

In time, jojo did end up pulling back to look at mike’s face up close and whisper ‘i still love you’

Which is really out of nature for jojo bcs he’s never really known to be the risk taker between the two

And mike was so happy at that moment that he just pulls jojo in for a kiss.

And that folks, is how they got back together:)

So everyone has agreed that airplane food sucks ass (for the most part at least. 

Jojo was forced to eat it on his plane back to new york but he didn’t like finish it

Probably bcs he was so nervous and it also didn’t look so appetizing

So after they’ve said their heartfelt ‘i still love you’s and etc mike took him back to his apartment after finding out he doesn’t hv a place to stay. He’d stay at his parents place but the de la guerra’s hv long moved out of new york. You can say the similarities between jojo and his parents are that they like to travel. They sold their house and ended up backpacking across the world to look for a place to retire inevitably. Last time he checked up on his mom, the old couple is driving to Netherlands.

So mike took him home and cooked him dinner. They hv the apartment all to themselves since hotshot and ike are out

Unknowingly, jojo had sat on honey’s favorite spot on the couch and earned a disapproving meow from the little cat

Not until mike had properly introduced them that honey started to be nicer to jojo. And so they eat dinne ron the couch and talked.

Mike admitted calling him has been on his mind for quite some time but was too scared to act up on it. And jojo said what he did just now was the most compulsive and adrenaline rush thing he’s ever done. The roles had reversed for the moment

But now they’re back where they’ve always belong. In each other’s grasp while looking out the balcony in the tiny living room to watch the sunrise and then getting surprised seeing ike and hotshot pile in the apartment

And so now they’re back. They make the most of the weekend to talk abt what they really want

Jojo wants to quit his old job. The firm is full of snobby and arrogant ppl

And it has him working almost 24/7. He doesn’t want that

Mike on the other hand wants to hv a period of his life where he’s traveling full time

So they took inspiration from ike and hotshot’s current plan : get a mini bus to convert it into a home

In conclusion jojo quits his job, moves back to new york along with his cat dorothea so he can live with mike to make that converted bus plan. After securing a proper job that let’s him work at home flexibly like mike’s, they get on with their plan and sets off to travel in their house on wheels with their two cats. They end up getting married ofc and lived happily ever after:)

Thank you and goodnight folks hsnsgsbssjshmshssmhs

[we-are-inevitable]

new javid au?? you bet!!

hi ok so i thought of an au. basically a stereotypical hallmark movie but make it javid. this au featuures: jack “i was raised on a farm and practice saying important conversations to my cows” kelly and david “i went to college in a big city because i’m built different” jacobs

i might eventually write this out into a fic !! soooo,,

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

the jacobs family lives in a small town in a southwestern state.

david jacobs is, of course, a bit of an outsider in the town. he's not interested in farming or country things, he's more into the Big Outside World and wants to study something that isn't very "traditional" for his area (i'm thinking comparative literature or journalism (with a minor in queer studies that he Does Not Talk About because Hello, Small Town!)

anyways he has a devoted friendgroup that he spends a lot of time with:

sarah (david's twin sister, who isn't afraid to get into trouble and has never been very 'ladylike'; plays softball and runs track with tony)

jack (latino farm boy with a heart of gold, a shitty father and a hidden artistic talent; basically the glue that holds the group together)

katherine (a girl who constantly feels trapped in a close-minded small town and wants to get out; also into journalism)

tony (who they call racetrack because he's an all-state cross country runner; biggest dumbass but can solve any math problem ever)

sean (he's basically a god on the football field; extremely intelligent, can play at least 6 instruments; called 'spot' bc Freckles)

charlie (Literally The Best Human Ever; student council president, National Honor Society president, also in drama)

and albert (probably a stoner but he's chill and legitimately the funniest person; troublemaker but also a literal golden retriever)

there's more of them that float between friend groups, but, of course, Davey, Sarah, Jack, Katherine, Tony, Sean, Charlie, and Albert are the "core" friends.

but. surprise: davey is the only one who goes out of state for college.

the rest split up, but stay in state. Jack goes to a trade school (he takes welding courses at the local vo-tech), Tony and Sean end up going to a community college together about 30 minutes away from home, albert goes straight into the workforce under a relative's wing, and charlie, kath, and sarah all go to a big university about 3 hours away from home.

but not davey. no, davey goes to a school in new york, just because he needs to get away from everything.

because davey goes to school on the other side of the country, he rarely gets the chance to come home. this, of course, means that he slowly drifts away from all of his high school friends- aside from sarah, obviously, because he still sees family a lot, but he doesn't talk to anyone else that often... especially jack.

now, jack and david were never a "thing," but there was always some underlying tension. longing stares, late night talks on the roof of jack's barn, hangouts at the diner in town. they were inseperable, pretty much. by far the closest friends out of the group... until jack and katherine started dating. and, yeah, david is happy for them. he's so happy for them- he jumps up and down and screams and shouts when kath and jack show up to school one day holding hands- because jack and katherine have been his closest friends for YEARS. they’re their own little subgroup- Jack, Kath, and Davey- and they go pretty much everywhere together. sometimes sarah tags along too, so david isn't third wheeling, but most of the time it's just the three of them.

but it hurts so much, because david likes jack. but jack is apparently straight. so david goes away. goes to a school across the country instead of, yknow, facing his feelings.

FAST FORWARD TO ABOUT TEN YEARS LATER!!!

david is a successful 28 year old. after graduating from college (where he ended up double majoring in english and journalism, with a minor in queer studies), he works for a publishing company and has a pretty cushy job as an editor or something, idk yet, and he's doing really, really well for himself- until one day, he gets a call from his mom, Esther, and finds out that his father is sick. sicker than he should be, really, and they're just now convincing him to get checked out.

of course, after hearing the news, David is torn. his family is from a small town, so job opportunities are hard to come by... but regardless, within a little over a week, David has moved back home to help take care of things.

pretty soon, david has a job. thanks to his background knowledge in journalism and his writing ability, he's able to score a job from Joseph Pulitzer, who runs a few newspapers in their town and others in the surrounding area. he feels like he's gotten a whole new start from the past he disliked so much, until it all comes back to bite him in the ass when he runs into Jack Kelly at the co-op. 

"Davey?"

"Wha-- Oh! Jack?"

"Good to see ya, man! What are ya doin' back?"

"I moved back a few weeks ago. Missed home, you know?"

"Just couldn't stay away, could ya?"

"Guess not."

they talk for a few minutes, but eventually have to split apart- jack has to get his feed back to the farm before his girls, aka: his cows, get angry, and davey has to get the chicken scratch back home before esther maims him. they exchange numbers, though, and promise to catch up sometime soon.

after that encounter, Jack Kelly ends up showing up a lot more often. davey sees him all the time without meaning to. in line at the grocery store, at the co-op, stopped next to him at the one stoplight in the middle of town- everywhere. they're never able to talk, though; not until one evening, davey gets a call from jack. 

at first, conversation is a bit tense- but only because it's been so long since they've talked. once the ball gets rolling, though, they're laughing and carrying on like they never stopped talking. when the conversation calms down a bit, jack asks davey if he'd like to come over.

"i'd love to, if your wife doesn't mind having a guest, of course."

"i... actually don't have a wife."

"oh-- oh, i'm sorry, i just assumed-"

"nah, it ain't nothin' to twist yourself up about. you know where i live, yeah? swing by 'round seven."

"sounds like a plan." 

and that's how davey finds out that jack owns the land that his father's farm was on. the house, though, is different- and he soon realizes that jack has completely remodeled. the porch isn't rotting anymore, and the yard is green and trimmed, and the pond out in the back yard doesn't look god-awful anymore, much to davey's delight.

dinner goes off without a hitch. everything goes right, just like old times. they swap college stories. jack tells davey about inheriting the farm and making it his own (likely to scrub every piece of his father out of his life), while davey tells jack about the big city and how different it is being home. it's nice. comfortable. familiar.

jack and davey try to meet up as often as they can after that night, which is difficult considering their schedules, but they somehow make it work. they make it really work, in fact- they have dinner twice a week (usually with some old friends), they fish together (read: jack fishes while david sits on the back of his truck and talks to him), and they even go to rodeos and football games together (to look back on they're youth, of course). 

one night, about a week before jack's 29th birthday, they meet up at the bar in town and spend hours drinking beer and whiskey and talking about life. once they make it back to jack's house, they continue talking on the couch, but talking turns into cuddling ("just for old time's sake") and cuddling turns into confessions ("i only dated those girls because i thought it would help me get over you") and confessions turn into tears ("when he found out, he kicked me out of the house") and tears turn into promises ("i loved you then, jack, and i'll love you now") and promises turn into more. 

eventually, more turns a knee on a ground and a ring on a hand. eventually, a ring on a hand turns into a wedding. eventually, a wedding turns into memories, years down the line, while sitting on an old porch swing and watching grandchildren play in the front lawn.

the end !!!!

[secret-engima]

Yknow how the Cloud-Prom thing is a thing? Yeah well I was thinking of it in reverse. Prompto reborn as Cloud.

FINALLY FOUND THIS ASK.

It’s been buried so long I thought I’d never find it again.

BUCKLE UP NEW AU RAMBLE TIME AND IT’S A LOONNNNGG ONE.

Also before we begin *yeets canon FF7 timeline because it MAKES NO SENSE*.

There.

...

-Prompto wakes up when he’s 4 and he falls into a stream tainted with a LOT of mako while fleeing from bullies.

-Well technically he wakes up two weeks after that little mishap because mako poisoning plus sudden memory reboot is an Ouch and took a while for his tiny body to acclimate too. His mom (he has an actual non-adoptive mom now, that’s weird) is so relieved he’s okay and Prompto feels ... really bad that now he doesn’t entirely feel like her kid.

-He IS her kid and he knows it, but he remembers a time when he wasn’t, when he was an escaped science project and a Prince’s friend and a Crownsguard who saw the world end and then pick itself back up afterward. It’s impossible to go back to being ... well ... who he was before he Remembered.

-His mother accepts his new personality changes and “quirks” and Prompto loves her all over again for it.

-Cloud Strife is now a strange mix of too old and mature for his age and a bubbly, cheerful sunshine child. The residents look down on him because he “has no father”, but Prompto has suffered worse than their petty scorn and refuses to let it bother him.

-The local bullies learn to leave him alone pretty fast too, because Cloud may be small, but he has all of Prompto’s memories to back up his techniques, and bullies dislike pain. His mother just scoffs at the angry parents who complain about twisted wrists and black eyes and says maybe if they controlled their own children, hers wouldn’t have to resort to violence to defend themselves. It makes them no friends in Nibelheim, but there are a few neighbors who don’t buy into the town’s cliquish nature and they keep trouble away from the Strife home.

-Cloud is 7 when his mother finally stops letting him just handle her unloaded rifle with constant supervision and actually teaches him to shoot it. It feels young to Prompto, but Prompto had grown up in the sheltered city of Insomnia. This is Nibelheim, and Nibelheim’s wildlife don’t care how young he is or that they aren’t “supposed” to enter the town when they are young and dumb and hungry. Nibelheim also doesn’t have much in the way of a grocery store, and if the table needs food, someone is going to have to go shoot it.

-This at least, is familiar. Even in a world where he is no longer Prompto, and he’s pretty sure the world has been taken over by an evil Niflheim empire knockoff pretending to be a power company, he’d long gotten used to having to defend a settlement from things with teeth and go hunting to provide food.

-But back to the Evil Empire Pretending to Be A Power Company that he’s pretty sure has taken over most of the world- yeah. That was a nasty shock to figure out when he was 6. It’s nothing overt ... sorta. Just- you know- the way the elders grumble over how they were always small, but they were never ABANDONED until the reactor came and everyone started to work there rather than learn the old trades. The ivory carving and fur-tanning, the jewelry made of bones and fangs and shed dragon scales and the parkas made from wolf fur and rabbit hide that were second to none in quality. It hadn’t been the most thriving trade perhaps, but it had been something. Now all there was was the reactor, and that ... sat wrong with Prompto. There was also the rampant propaganda that was always pro Shinra, the news that this power company had just started a war (???) using their super soldiers (??????) and honestly why no one saw anything wrong with that was a mystery to him.

-Cloud is honestly glad that he’s living in such a backwater town. The farther away he is from That Nonsense the better. At least until he’s old enough to be able to properly fight and wield dual pistols like he used to.

-His mother buys him his own pistol when he’s 10. He’s responsible enough for it, and Nibelheim doesn’t really care about things like age laws that city folk do. Every child here knows how to safely use a firearm of some kind out of sheer necessity, even if most of them are not allowed to have their own until they’re closer to 12 or 13. He still primarily uses the family hunting rifle, since hunting for supper with a pistol is stupid, but he carries the pistol everywhere he goes in case something decides to try to make a meal out of him. It’s a battered old revolver, but Prompto spent ten years keeping equipment functional with minimal supplies, and soon his little Quicksilver is as fast and reliable as any “new” model.

-His mother doesn’t ask how he already knew how to disassemble and clean the pistol. She never asks when he knows things he has no right to, and he’s glad for that.

-Cloud is 11 when the abandoned Shinra Mansion stops being abandoned and those instincts that kept Prompto alive through the Long Night start screaming. It could be something innocuous, but those military trucks pulling around to the back of the mansion don't look like they’re only carrying supplies, and he’s not the only townsperson who thought they heard pained sobbing and smelled burnt flesh from inside some of those vehicles. Cloud thinks about keeping his nose out of it, he’s physically only a child after all, but the rest of him knows that if something goes wrong with ... whatever this is, then his entire town could be at risk of “disappearing” if Shinra is as bad as he thinks they are.

-The townsfolk aren’t supposed to go in there, too many monsters and it being private Shinra property after all, but the kids like their dares and their scary stories, and all of them know the secret ways to get inside and out again that bigger monsters can’t fit through and adults don’t notice. Cloud creeps around cautiously, pistol loaded just in case, and he can’t get INSIDE the actual building without being spotted, but he sees enough.

-This mansion isn’t a mansion. It’s a LAB. Those trucks were carrying lab equipment and supplies.

-And human victims.

-Cloud rushes home and throws up in the back yard and all he can think about is how two weeks ago the news mentioned a “radar malfunction” or something that led to an entire town being bombed out of existence and oh wouldn’t that explain the smell of burned skin?

-Cloud tries to stay out of it, but he CAN’T. He can’t in good conscience, so he keeps sneaking around, avoiding the guards and wondering what, exactly, to DO.

-He finds the ... disposal area and Regrets™, but every time he sees someone being thrown down there, he creeps over to check for a pulse. Just in case. Just in case.

-He’s thinking of stopping for his own sanity, because all of this is bringing up every trauma and nightmare he tried to forget from Prompto’s life, when he-

-Finds a little girl. Bloody and injured, with something imbedded in one frail hand that looks like shards of materia, and he expects her to be dead like all the others except she’s not and Prompto breathlessly carries her away on his back to hide in one of the tiny mountain caves he’s turned into a hideout over the years. He keeps a lot of stuff in there that his mother would never allow if she knew, things like a restore materia he won off a drifter in poker (and oh the man’s face at being outmatched by a 6 year old), and a surgical kit he ... found out in the wilds (it wasn’t like the man would need it anymore, the wolves had seen to that).

-He uses the restore materia five times before he’s sure the girl is as stable as she’s going to get on such short notice, then he stuffs a rag in her mouth and ties down her arm, because he may not know a lot about this world, but he knows shards of materia in her hand CAN’T be good for her health, long term or short. Materia absorbs magic from people on skin contact, so even in shards, there’s a high chance it will absorb her magic until there’s none left and then start going after her life force.

-Two hours later, he uses one last restore to seal shut the hand he just extracted the last bits of materia out of, throws the materia shards into the nearby mako spring that has been providing his light out of sheer spite to whoever imbedded the things in the first place, then passes out because he’s an 11 year old who just used six restore spells and performed field surgery on someone’s hand using his own tools and the bottle of alcohol he smuggled up here a long time ago as disinfectant.

-He wakes up a long time later, and by the time he gets back down the mountain to find his mom, the town is looking for him. He tells no one what really happened, but he needs SOME cover story because he’s kinda covered in blood from that whole- rescued a child out of a death pit and then did surgery on her hand thing. He makes up a story of a hunt gone wrong and hiding in a small cave until the wolf pack left and is grateful no one asks to see if his pistol is out of ammo or not. They just buy his story and move on to talking about hunting down this supposed wolf pack.

-When his mother takes him home, he tells her the truth. It’s the first time she’s doubted him since he was 4 years old. Shinra has already left again as suddenly as they’d come so it’s safe to take the bigger of the hidden entrances into the mansion grounds. He shows her how to get in, and while the death pit is a pile of smoking ash now, the signs (the bones) are still there and she is horrified. She is more horrified when he lets her into his secret cave and shows her the little girl, huddled up in his secret hideout’s fur blankets, still unconscious and deathly pale but at least not actively dying anymore.

-She agrees that this must remain a secret, for when Shinra eventually came back.

-They keep her hidden up there for three months with only a handful of other people in the know (all folk who Claudia has trusted with her life before and who she knows won’t go blab to the mayor). They feed her and care for her and discover she’s lost all her memories. They know about Kalm, it’s not hard to guess that her parents are likely dead and burned by now.

-Claudia names her Storm and says she will take care of Storm now, and Cloud hugs the stunned girl close and whispers that he’s always wanted a little sister.

-Six months after Kalm’s burning and Shinra Mansion’s return to empty haunted building status, Claudia lets the rumors spread that her cousin has died and left a child to be sent to Nibelheim to live with her. Since Claudia has always been closed mouthed about her family, this rumor is believed wholesale, and when one of those other folk in the know sneaks Storm down to the next town over a few hours before Claudia arrives in her battered old truck to “pick her up”, their alibi is as complete as it’s gonna get.

-They estimate that Storm is 9 years to Cloud’s 11, and she takes to being his cousin/sibling with a desperate sort of fervor. Cloud throws himself into being an older brother with equal devotion, even as he trains harder with his guns and survival skills and passes them on to Storm too.

-Cloud is 14 and maybe going a little stir crazy in his small town life (he’s grateful to be away from most of Shinra’s nonsense, but it does get REALLY BORING out here, especially with everyone his age leaving to go work for the Evil Empire In Disguise) when Storm tentatively asks what happened to her in the mansion. Cloud doesn’t know. But he’s got two pistols now and he’s not afraid of the local monsters, so he kisses her forehead and treks off to the mansion to find out.

-He fights his way into the mansion and finds all the creepy science papers and learns ... a lot.

-Apparently Evil Empire was playing god with things they knew little about, surprise surprise.

-Cloud tucks away Storm’s file (Felicia was her old name, interesting), and keeps digging. It takes a couple days of repeated visits (in between which he updates Storm and his increasingly alarmed mother of what he’s learned), but eventually he finds the files on Shinra’s golden boy Sephiroth and learns he’s had his DNA combined with a dead “ancient” (and if that’s really an ancient cetra and not some kind of horrible alien Prompto will eat his own shoes because there’s a picture of Jenova in the file and yeah, NOTHING HUMAN IS THAT SHADE OF BLUE kthanks). He digs even more through the mad ramblings, used to it after having to decipher ancient texts and Besithia’s mad rants with Ignis during the Long Night, and finds...

-Oh.

-That could be useful.

-Prompto treks down to the basement, then further down to a room filled with coffins. He wanders around until he finds the right one, flips it open, waits until the guy with Intense Vampire Vibes starts to wake up and ask who has disturbed his slumber, then interrupts with a cheerful, “I’m Cloud Strife. I’m going to steal everything in here I think is useful and then burn the rest to the ground. Do you wanna leave now or leave later when your cape is all crispy?”

-The man stares at him, “...What?”

-Cloud grins a little too wide and knows he looks very insane and ghoulish with the monster blood on his clothes, the dust and cobwebs in his hair, and the fire materia he’s juggling in his hands as he perches fearlessly on the edge of the coffin and simplifies, “Mansion go fwoof soon. You staying or leaving?”

-The man doesn’t seem to believe him, or even believe that he isn’t some kind of bad dream, so he just nudges Cloud off the coffin edge and shuts the top again. Cloud shrugs mentally, too frazzled and angry to care right now about Vampiric Drama Queens.

-He removes the relevant files that he’s found as well as any materia and weapons (and the diary of this one lady named Lucrecia who is apparently Sephiroth’s REAL mom and Mister Vampire’s former lover), then “borrows” a gas can from his mom’s shed and ensures that the dry, rotten floorboards of the mansion are thoroughly soaked in the stuff before wandering outside the back way, getting to a safe-ish distance and throwing a fireball through the broken window.

-The mansion does indeed make a loud and eager “fwoof” sound as it goes up in flames. Cloud watches the inferno with possibly too much maniacal laughter (hey he’s STRESSED okay? He’s getting the impression that HE’S the one the lifestream has decided to make it’s errand boy to save the world and he DOESN’T LIKE IT so just let him VENT), then laughs harder when a wall breaks open and out storms a slightly crispy and very unimpressed Vampire Drama Queen. Did Cloud maybe take too much glee in ensuring the gas had gotten into the basement too to make sure ALL  of the mansion went up? Probably. Did he regret it?

-No. Not in the slightest.

-One very unimpressed Vampire stare down that became genuine alarm when Cloud’s laughing fit turned into childish bawling later (stupid child stress hormones turning everything to tears when he least expected it, then again he’d always been a crybaby as Prompto in his own eyes) and Cloud leads Vampire Man home because he isn’t sure what else to do. He also makes Vampire Man (Vincent Valentine, the man sighs after the seventh time being called a Vampire) carry the diary and the most relevant papers down to his house. The other ones he hides in his cave for now, just in case.

-His mom breaks out the strong stuff halfway through Cloud’s story and shares sympathetic looks with Vincent over Cloud’s pyromania. Then he explains what he’s found and thinks about “Jenova” and while Vincent is skeptical, his mom has seen too much of Cloud’s weirdness not to believe him at this point. Cloud mentions that there are hints that at least some of the thing is up in the reactor. Storm cuddles up to her brother and solemnly asks if he’s going to go set the blue alien on fire too.

-Cloud says yes, Claudia sighs, and Vincent looks like he has a headache.

-Two weeks of preparations (and waiting out Shinra’s investigation of the fire, which they SOMEHOW deem an accident), a long hike, and some angry swearing from Claudia as she shorts out the security cameras (since when could his mom do that) later, and they have indeed found part of the blue alien woman. Their plan is interrupted when Vincent unexpectedly transforms into some kind of mini- dragon- monster- THING and aggressively fills the entire glass tank Jenova is in with blood red fire, but after THAT little episode is done, the Thing in Vincent’s skin eyes Cloud, starts laughing, calls him “the Chosen’s Little Argentum”, and cedes control back to one very dizzy Vincent.

-They all decide to call it a week after that.

...

Gonna wrap this up soon because ow my hands but some other thoughts on this is-

-Cloud and Storm start traveling to get answers and also to stay under Shinra’s radar, Vincent goes with because for some reason Chaos finds Cloud amusing and is willing to be quiet around the boy and also because this child CLEARLY needs a keeper and his pseudo-sister is his old partner’s DAUGHTER who was experimented on by Hojo and saved by Cloud so he can’t just leave now can he? Also the Lucrecia diary enlightens him to some things, like how Sephiroth is still alive and kicking (and currently sane!).

-Also Claudia comes with because she is a Good Mom and not about to let her 13 year old, her 11 year old, and a quasi-immortal Turk galavant around the countryside without adult supervision.

-Claudia and Vincent bicker like an old married couple and honestly Cloud is content to ship them so long as Vincent treats his mom right, and the ex-Turk would be amused by the Shovel Talk he gets early on if not for the sneaking suspicion (read: Chaos’s cackling) that this tiny blond menace guising as sunshine could actually pull it off, science immortality or no.

-Storm takes to swords like a duck to water and Cloud teaches her what he remembers, which is around the time Vincent asks about why Cloud Is The Way He Is and Claudia tells him that her son is a reincarnation. Honestly Cloud is just as flabbergasted as Vincent because since when did his mom know that?

-”Since you started talking in ancient forgotten languages during your hyper moments when you were four,” is the placid answer.

-They eventually wander into Midgar because What Is Self-Preservation and find Aerith. Aerith gloms onto Cloud and smiles a teary smile and calls him “Prompto” and that’s when he learns that Aerith is LUNA.

-They meet Zack outside of Midgar where Zack is playing Hunter rather than joining Soldier. Cloud and Zack stare at each other for like- twenty seconds before hugging for dear life and crying all over each other because it’s NOCTIS and THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH.

-Zack still has armiger magic and gives it to everyone involved save Vincent, who looks like he might actually have an aneurysm if anymore Weirdness gets attached to his soul. He already has two (now three and one absentee sort of fourth) crazy children to look after, please keep the ancient magic away from his already battered soul.

-Not sure who/if Iggy and Gladio are reborn as, I’ll think about it.

-Fixit shenanigans ensue. The Turks get converted to the cause because 1. Veld’s old partner is back and 2. his supposedly dead daughter shyly turns up decidedly NOT dead and with proof that Hojo experimented on her (he nearly flips a table and the scars on her hand from Prompto’s field surgery hurt Veld’s SOUL).

-Claudia is Team Mom of the Turks now, she’s not sure how.

-Zack and Cloud put their heads together and decide the PERFECT way to infiltrate and ruin Shinra’s hold on Sephiroth is to-

-Have one of them become his secretary/assistant. Cloud loses the coin toss, so now Sephiroth has a personal ray of sunshine and good morals following him everywhere like a stray kitten. It’s working WAY more than it has any right to.

-Someone (read: the newly converted to the cause Turks and a gleeful Vincent) start slipping Reeve data on what the mako reactors are really doing to the planet. Also Hojo ends up dead. So does Rupert.

-Also also Claudia is Rupert’s sister, so Rufus gets an aunt figure to imprint proper morals into his skull through love, sarcasm, and good food.

-There I’m out of thoughts on this AU for now.

[insomnihan]

han’s Entire Thoughts & Feelings on Dreamcatcher’s “Odd Eye”

oh mY F UCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

there are no read mores here so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ALRIGHT SO-

OH MY F UCKING GOD THE SONG WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN WITH THIS??????????? DEAD ASS?????????????? THAT BEGINNING SOUND ALONE TRIGGERED MY FIGHT OR FLIGHT AND THEN IT JUST CALMS DOWN YET MY BRAIN IS ALREADY F UCKING LOSING IT- ITS THE GUITAR ALL THROUGHOUT AND HOW I JUST HEADBANG WITH EVERY HIT OF THAT DRUM OR WHATEVER THE F UCK FOR ME- pls calm down okay i just……………………… leez…… ollounder…………… i oWE YOU MY LIFE- the way the prechorus is so FAST???????? like whaT IN THE ACTUAL F UCK the way it hypes me up with that instrumental the DRUMS GOT ME BOUNCIN AND S HIT AND GET SMACKED IN THE FACE ODD EYE I SWEAR TO GOD I FELT A NEW EMOTION AFTER THA- AFTER THIS WHOLE SONG TO BE HONEST-

THE?????????????? LINE DISTRIBUTION?????????????? IS SO SE*Y?????????????? THE IMMENSE POWER IN SIYEONS AND YOOHYEONS VOICES I CANT- ACTUAL SUA RAPPER CRUMBS idc what yall say minuscule sua rapper crumbs THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG AND DAMI LINES IS F UCKING DELICIOUS 😩😩😩 HANDONG VERSE CHORUS AND BRIDGE?????????????? DAMI BRIDGE??????????????? ���LIVE IT UP’?????????????? BICTH IM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

forgot to do this for boca so imma do it here kinda

YES YOOHYEON START THE SONG

THE AMOUNT OF HANDONG?????????????????? I CANT BREATHE??????????????????????

and ofc her ooOOOooOOO-

sua rapper crumbs idc idc-

YOOHYEON AND SIYEON BEING QUEENS OF CHORUSES AGAIN ESPECIALLY THE LAST ONE GO👏OFF👏

jiu ‘no more utopia’ AND sua ‘no more utopia’ pls took me three (3) tries to type ‘utopia’

LIVE IT UP YOURE SO RIGHT QUEEN YOU BETTER RAP YOUR HEART OUT

JIU AND HANDONG CHORUS

THE F UCKING BRIDGE CHANGED MY LIFE

okay for the dance i will be using the mcountdown fancam BC I DO WANT THE F UCK I WANT 👁👁 I JUST WANNA SAY i lit rally CANNOT believe how stable they are dancing LIKE THAT™ thE POWER THEY HOLD ANYWAY as always the dance always S L A P and is literally impossible to dance to without feeling like youre absolutely f ucking d*ing and out of breath……………… LOVE THAT

THE BEGINNING EYE FORMATION ARE YOU KIDDING ME-

im delusional but lowkey deja vu clown me idc idc-

THE SUA RUNNING OUT OF THERE THE JIU THE COMPLICATED HAND STUFF

JUST👏THE👏CHOREO👏FOR👏THE👏CHORUS👏BICTH

siyeon doing this

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

putting a bullet point for just that one (1) second of dami doing That™

handong right after…………………………………

gahyeons part with the other members doing different moves my eyes liked it

THE ENTIRE BRIDGE I DONT NEED TO SAY ANYTHING ELSE

like jiu and dami with handong ive literally watched that for five hours-

i just like the way they lined up and needed it to be linked here

THE SPIN THAT K*LLED US ALL

THE KICK THAT SENT US SIX FEET UNDER

S C R E A M……………………………………………………… Iconic™

DO YOU SEE THE BUDGET IN THE VISUALS JESUS CHRIST- the f ucking set up all of the effects!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of the lights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all of thE GLOWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the black and white set and theyre wearing red…………………… the red and white set and theyre wearing black…………………… that purple and green place…………………… the tree and random nature but everything is so futuristic looking…………………… dunno why yoohyeon is in a graffiti covered restroom but im LIVING for it- SIYEON SURROUNDED BY THOSE TVS DAMI IN THAT TRAIN THAT MULTICOLORED PLACE WHEREVER SUA IS EXCUSE ME- I COULD LITERALLY NAME EVERY SCENE IN THIS DAMN MUSIC VIDEO AND THEY👏ALL👏SLAP👏HARD👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

TIME TO SHOW WHICH SCENES I LIKED

THE WHOLE F UCKING THI-

jk ill name some😊😊😊again id name everything but ill just show one i liked more than others bc this is alreADY TOO DAMN LONG-

this is self restraint btw

I FEEL THREATENED-

helL YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AND IF I CRIED????????????????????????

this is here for no reason other than bc i wanted it here-

OOP-

OOP- x2

………………………………… F-

WHY OFC I HAVE TO PUT THIS HERE

ABSOLUTELY…………………………… ABSOLUTELY

OH F CUK-

it was this or the close up shot either way it k*lled me

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

😦

OH NO-

OOP- x3

😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

honestly let me just mention i really clowned and set myself up for heartbreak bc the album is only called ‘road to utopia’ but i assumed theyll find utopia bc thats how trilogies work but then this slaps me in the face- what im saying is im 🤡

T H E M

oK A Y SO THIS POST IS LONG ENOUGH ALREADY LIKE GODDAMNIT COULD I JUST SHUT UP FOR TEN (10) MINUTES PLS- SO HERE ILL JUST SAY ONE (1) WORD………………………………………………

W O M E N™

plus this truly is long enough good god-

JIU

OH BICTH SHE GRABBED ME BY MY NECK RIGHT AT THE START WHEN SHE JUST POPPED UP- lemme just talk about this screenshot for a second the STREAKS IN HER HAIR and THE PIERCING???????? THE JACKET???????GOOD GOD????????? L I S T E N her outfits during the dance scenes the R E D especially jeSUS- its that red one for me im pretty sure some of yall saw me go F E R A L™ on the dashboard about it so i WILL NOT go into it again- and theN THAT DRESS A F CUKING QUEEN LOVE TO SEE IT

SUA

ONCE AGAIN I HAVE TO BRING UP THE VERY START WITH THAT SLOW MO- RED👏IS👏HER👏COLOR 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏  the dark hime cut………………… the choker on both the red and the black is it the same one doesnt matter im d*ad……………… yo her wavy hair and that dress when it looked like she was in some hair shampoo commercial bicth i liVED FOR THAT- and theN T H I S YES THIS THAT IN THE SCREENSHOT the leather and the jacket the writing on her face i waNT HER TO BEAT ME WITH THAT LIGHT-

SIYEON

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IM LITEREALLY CRYINNG

I SWEAR TO GOD I SCREAMED EVERY TIME SHE WAS ON THE SCREEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pls breathe yes i see that orange coat with the collar and her two different colored eyes and how she is sitting in that chair i see her looking so fine in that red outfit especially near the end of the mv oh mY GOD- those pants yall bringing that style back from boca literally let me bREATHE FOR LIKE TWO (2) SECONDS

HANDONG

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LISTENLISTENLISTENLISTEN my eyes legit started tearing up when i saw her so soon in the mv yall DO NOT understand the emotions im going through to rewatch this mv again and again anD- iiiIIIIiiII CANNOT FULLY EXPRESS MYSELF BUT I JUST WANNA DIRECTLY MENTION THOSE CRYSTALS AND HER HIGH PONYTAIL SHE MADE F UCKING SURE TO SHOW OFF HOW POWERFUL SHE IS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOOHYEON

YOOHYEON WITH BUNS??????????????????? THAT LIPSTICK COLOR RIGHT AT THE START???????? THAT OUTFIT WITH THE RED PLAID SKIRT????????? like when you REALLY look at the outfit the polkadot jacket and the tie makes not a lot of sense but she made it woRK!!!!!!!!! okayokayokay her lip ring and dance outfits lets talk about it to be honest its something about that chain that hangs on her torso that makes it really hit………………… but like the entire outfits HIT™ she ripped her pants didnt she

DAMI

I CANT STAND THIS WOMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tell me why for literally one (1) second of that ‘live it up’ it snapped my neck???????? it was HARDLY A FLASH OF LIGHT YET IT WAS ENOUGH TO HURT ME- i prefer her short hair but listen the longer hair is making so many points rn- i think i said that for boca too… SHES LITERALLY SITTING YALL AND YET HERE I AM- the jacket the necklace the gloves and then that dramatic spin and the leaves OH MY GOD- DID YALL👏SEE THE WAY👏SHE KEPT👏FEELING👏HER NECK👏👏👏👏👏👏👏!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GAHYEON

GAHYEON THE WOMAN YOU ARE- i wanna start with the black hair and thee stickers look bc i wanna buT WE LOVE NOIR BY SUNMI but like i love that look like overall????????????? she literally wears the same outfit for that and this screenshot but the vibe is so different i LOVE this purple color she got going rn and that black hair IS A STATEMENT imma be more open here about it but lowkey i am genuinely missing her dark hair rn- anyway THAT DESIGN AROUND HER EYE WITH THAT RED OUTFIT BRUH DO I D*E-

BONUS TIME: B-SIDE TRACKS (short thoughts and parts i liked)

Intro

IVE NEVER BEEN SO FERAL IN MY LIFE

Wind Blows

this instrumental……………………… holy god????????????? its chill for like a second in the beginning and then it just YEETS you in- imma be real i wasnt sure about that ‘wind blows’ part i dunno why i ……… into it at first but yknow whaT THATS ONE OF THE BEST PARTS DAMIS RAP I SWEAR- but then the prechorus parts are so chill??????????? is it bc its handong its probably bc its handong ‘always be with you like gravity’ siyeon pls- it gives me the same energy as tension and break the wall where i feel like i jusT GAIN ALL THE STRENGTH AND CONQUER THE WORLD yes i saw the dance multiple times it k*lled me every single time

Poison Love

literally what the f uck- when i heard it in the highlight medley i knew i was gonna LOVE this like i cant stand how much i love their sexy bops like dami got me immediately ‘why do you?’ YOURE RIGHT DAMI WHY DO I- you could NEVER go wrong with lower register dreamcatcher NOTHING👏CAN👏GO👏WRONG👏 DAMI AND GAHYEON THEIR RAPS JESUS CHRIST i put my hand on my heart i was so taken aback- maybe i went back to replay it a few times when i was listening to it and then handong……………………………………………………… UH ANYWAY-

4 Memory

JIIIIIIIIIUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE LOVE THE HAPPY AND BOUNCY AND FUN BOP OF THE ALBUM- like ive said this to a few moots that this song just makes me happy and lifts up my mood its the little instrumental parts in the chorus for me i dunno what it is its just pleasant to my ears and then damis rap is so fun like :cccccc cute- like this is a song about the seasons and wanting to be with someone (well jiu help write this is this about like insomnias or am i a stupid clown-) like i REALLY WISH i could express how much i enjoy this song but i would just be repeating myself that its a feel good happy song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

New days

DAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LIKE i dunno how to describe the energy this song holds except ‘friendship energy’- its literally the guitar all throughout the song for me LIKE i feel like im just wrapped in a nice hug BUT NOT JUST ANY KIND OF HUG its the kind that the other person opened their jacket and theyre holding me and their jacket is around me listening to this song yall i kinda wanna cry i dunno- everyone sounds so lovely especially jiu pls her voice is so soft and DAMI OFC HER RAP GETS A HELL YEAH™ FROM ME like the ‘find you’ AND THEN AT THE END ‘FOUND YOU’ IM 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 (if yall cant see its the pleading puppy eyed emoji)

LIKE WHAT A WAY TO START THE F UCKING YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! im so in awe of everything about this as SOON AS SOON I SAY i saw the very first photo teaser and i COULDNT STOP LISTENING TO THE HIGHLIGHT MEDLEY AND THE TEASER WITH THE SUITS AND THE DRINKS IS STILL LIVING IN MY HEAD- alright alright ill calm down for this part but its one of my FAVORITE ALBUMS FOR👏SURE👏 like i really cant think of any criticisms regarding anything about it!!!!!!!!!!!! since im posting this after promotions are over (odd eye promotions anyway) i will just say im EXTREMELY proud of what we have accomplished as fans and what the girls have achieved during this era!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it was hella wild all around and i am once again saying that im very happy to be an insomnia <3<3<3<3<3<3<3

and ONCE AGAIN JUST ONE (1) MORE TIME RIGHT BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 

IN CONCLUSION: THIS ALBUM TAKES ME TO AN ENTIRELY NEW WORLD AND IM GONNA LIVE IT UP

AND AS ALWAYS:

[georgiaswarr]

lister bird - part 2 (part 1)

beautiful faces - declan mckenna

i’m very much many thoughts head full can’t put it into concise words when it comes to beautiful faces as an iwbft song but suffice it to say, this song looks at celebrity, influencer and consumerism culture through a certain lens of doom, which hits close to home for lister. it also addresses excessive partying and drinking, for example in the “lift your hands up and lead us back home” lyric

beige - yoke lore

“i don't wanna see you smile / i want you in the morning / before you go performing” *whispers* bicci song

9 to 5 - smallpools

lister grew up poor and we mustn’t forget that part 3. also themes of losing innocence and doing what you must to survive in this cruel world.

when the party’s over - billie eilish

more themes of loneliness, self-hate and partying ! yay ! /s

hallucinogenics - matt maeson

i mean.... “pushing past the limit, trippin' on hallucinogenics / my cigarette burnt my finger 'cause i forgot i lit it / rippin' with my sinners 'cause fuck it, man, i ain't no beginner / and then i crawled back to the life that i said i wouldn't live in // cause i just couldn't open up, i'm always shiftin' / go find yourself a man who's strong and tall and christian” NEED I SAY MORE, THIS IS THE MOST LISTER SONG IN EXISTENCE

okay okay - alessia cara

a song about trying to fake self-confidence until you “make it” even though you don’t believe that you’re - to quote - a “million trick pony” yourself which is very true for lister john self-deprecation bird

nights - neon trees

here we have lister at least thinking that his crush on jimmy is unrequited, plus themes of insomnia

be an astronaut - declan mckenna

this raises the question of how much agency lister has and how much he’s just pushed around by his circumstances and by society, even though he might dream, or has dreamt of being bigger than that

clouds - børns

this song makes me think of Yearning(TM) while being high - yknow, something that lister does

liability - lorde

“the truth is i am a toy that people enjoy / till all of the tricks don't work anymore / and then they are bored of me” - growing up in the world of fame, constantly being sexualised, nobody knowing how you truly feel, all while feeling distant from your two closest friends has taken a huge toll on lister’s self worth

icarus - bastille

“out on the front doorstep, drinking from a paper cup / you won't remember this / living beyond your years, acting out all their fears / you feel it in your chest” lister “grew up too fast and has been on the verge of death multiple times” bird

hurricane - lord huron

something something lister getting a certain thrill out of living on the edge something something

i swear - exes

more themes of falling apart and getting drunk :(

white wine - walwin

kinda vibes but also comparing somebody you’re attracted to to alcohol....... i mean it’s not the most healthy thing to do especially for lister but he’s trying

saint - vérité

this is about how lister appears to the outside world and how that doesn’t reflect who he is inside - everyone sees him as a cheeky golden boys, as a “saint”, even though he has many issues and hates who he actually is

preacher man - the driver era

shoutout to @listerswift for reccing this song to me. remember when lister said that maybe he should try becoming religious too in the wednesday chapters??? in iana, when he’s gonna try to get better and find something other than alcohol to turn to i feel like there will be a phase where he feels lost and might even entertain the thought of religion. either way, he’s looking for something or someone who will help him “get away from this life of sin”

everything i wanted - gengahr version

(yes this is a cover of the billie eilish song I JUST LOVE THIS VERSION A LOT OKAY) anyway, lister feeling like what he wanted isn’t actually what he needs? feeling alone, like nobody cares about him or is listening to him? feeling the pressures of fame and everyone wanting something from him? themes of insomnia? but still eventually (hopefully) finding comfort in his friends? this song’s got you covered

half the night - couchsleepers

y’know, the fact that jimmy and lister are gonna sleep in the same bed long before they start hooking up to help each other

bravado - yoke lore

bicci song - “little bits of my own little mistakes” (they’ve both fucked up in the past) and “you put songs inside my cells” (because they’re musicians) and also “are there really angels in southern california” (southern california standing for the world of fame, could there be good things there?)

la la - kids in america

“don’t need this attention not another mention / just wanna stay high” a song about just wanting to let go of the world and all its problems

85 - andy grammer

here we explore lister’s relationship with money and wealth - while he grew up poor, after getting money he started splashing out on expensive cars and the like. however, there’s plenty of evidence that points towards the fact that he’ll go back to appreciating the little things in iana and rethink his priorities, which this song expresses

like i love you - lost frequencies

lister wants to know if jimmy loves him the way he loves jimmy

holy ghost - børns

a sexy song with religious symbolism??? that’s very bicci of you børns

run away with me - carly rae jepsen

“do you ever imagine what would happen if we just... ran away?” let the ark run away in iana challenge

bad habits - delaney jane

i do think it’s a sign of progress and improvement when the “bad habit” in question is a passionate but confusing friends-with-benefits affair with your fellow band mate instead of like.... alcohol and smoking and shit

pink lemonade - james bay

i mean my personal theory is that jimmy and lister won’t want to talk about what hooking up means for their relationship/properly define their relationship for quite a while, due to personal issues and also what it means for the band. this song embodies that.

could you love me - kygo

we all know lister’s got some self-esteem and mental health issues, and even though he’s trying to change, he’s unsure if rowan and jimmy could still love him

killer whales - smallpools

a song about a relationship where both parties have difficulties opening up and being completely vulnerable, but eventually being able to get through to each other. it also expresses a great admiration for the person that is sung about which i think is beautiful

pink in the night - mitski

aaaaand one more bicci song for good measure - “and i know i've kissed you before, but / i didn't do it right // can i try again, try again, try again / try again, and again, and again / and again, and again, and again?” - to quote alice, there will be MANY bicci kisses in iana and i, for one, can’t wait

i wanna get better - bleachers

“and i've trained myself to give up on the past 'cause / i froze in time between hearses and caskets / lost control when i panicked at the acid test / i wanna get better” it’s hard to put into words quite the amount of catharsis and a defiant push for self-improvement that is in this song but i like to think lister very much wants that

glitter & gloss - skott

i could honestly analyse each line and how it relates to lister here but here’s a collection of themes: fame, dressing yourself up and almost getting lost in so-called “glitter & gloss” for the public, but still, at your core, finding your true self and knowing that only very few people can truly know you and understand you. i think this is perfect for the end of this playlist because it seems hopeful to me, like lister’s gonna realise that even though most people will never see his true face, that doesn’t matter because he and his loved ones do.

[yikes-xander]

000:00:00:00

PLAYLIST ANALYSIS

This is actually me just rambling about my thoughts on each song and why I chose them for this specific playlist rather than like.. an actually good and smart sounding in-depth analysis sorry :/

When I Met You - Ethan Nestor

There are many reasons I chose this one! Mostly the lyrics, but Ethan also sings it so it’s extra fitting for the playlist, especially as the opener.

“When I met you my life was blue, I was so lonely / You took me by surprise” The channel came into my life at the perfect time. I was feeling low, in my last year of high school, struggling with thoughts about the future. It especially helped me through quarantine. Every day I felt like quitting, giving up on putting effort into school/not graduating, but I had something to look forward to every day too, so I pushed through.

“Now you're gone from my life / I'm adrift on the sea” Once the stream ended and the channel was gone, I didn’t know how I felt. I felt sad, but also something I’ve never felt before. After watching Ethan’s video yesterday, hearing him explain he felt the same way, I felt so relieved. I think this lyric kind of describes how I feel now honestly, just kinda numb? Like I’m lost. I’m working on it.

Another Night - Story Untold

More of a light-hearted one now! To me, this song made me think about how good it felt to be a part of the audience.

“Here we go for another night / Another night goofing all around” Everyone (the audience, Mark, Ethan, etc.) having fun every single day? *chefs kiss*

“Laughing 'til our stomachs hurt / And I can't let this moment pass me by” Once again, made me think of all the good times that were a part of the channel, and all the good feelings they gave me.

“So here’s to a night we’ll remember / This is a time we never wanna forget” I think this is kind of self-explanatory? I don’t think any of us want to forget Unus Annus. Personally, it’s literally the best thing I’ve ever had the chance to see happen and be a part of.

100 Bad Days - AJR

This song just gives me good vibes, UA gave me good vibes, it had to be on the playlist. I don’t have much else to say about it.

History - One Direction

This song kind of reminds me of Ethan and Mark separately and UA as a whole. Because like,, they make a great team, they have a lot of history (friends for a long time, Ethan was a fan of Mark before that, etc.)

“You and me got a whole lot of history / So don't let it go, we can make some more, we can live forever” A year is a long time but also feels like no time at all. Sometimes I wish we had more time for UA, but I’m glad I was here for what we got.

“This is not the end” Unus Annus is something I’ll never forget.

Dopamine - With Confidence

Maybe also kind of self-explanatory? Dopamine makes you feel good!! UA also makes me feel good. And the song talks about losing it too so.. yeah

This Is Home - Cavetown

I’m not exactly sure why I felt so drawn to this? But the vibes are immaculate.

“Are you dead? / Sometimes I think I'm dead / 'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head / But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet” after the stream vibes anyone? Or is it just me? I stayed up way too long after it was over. Too many thoughts head full

“Time is / Slowly / Tracing his face / But strangely he feels at home in this place” Unus and Annus,, the Boys of Time babey!!

Ghost Of You - 5 Seconds of Summer

Again.. The VIBES are IMMACULATE. It’s just a sad song for a sad time.

“Too young, too dumb / To know things like love” I’m just a stupid boy who got emotionally attached to a channel whose whole purpose was to DIE and I’m sensitive about it.

All I Wanted - Paramore

Lyrics make me do a Think

“Wake up early to black and white re-runs” colors of the channel,, thinking about all the vids,, the memories :(

“I could follow you to the beginning / And just to relive the start / And maybe then we'll remember to slow down / At all of our favorite parts” this entire verse?? Oh my god. Absolutely *chefs kiss* I think we all know what I mean and like,, why it gives me UA vibes

The Kids from Yesterday - My Chemical Romance

This song just gives me like sad nostalgic vibes so I thought it fit well.

“... you only hear the music when your heart begins to break” the timer reaches the end and the ticking stops? Heartbreaking, that’s all

I Will Follow You into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Another song thats just,, sad so it fits

“Love of mine, someday you will die” we knew from the start the the channel would literally die when the clock stopped,,

“It's nothing to cry about 'cause we'll hold each other soon / In the blackest of rooms” shut up I’m mourning someone hold my hand

“I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black” death goddess Amy vibes

I’ll Always Be Around - Waterparks

“If you died I'd hope you'd haunt me / Because you know I'd miss you bad” we all love UA so much!! And miss it a ton already

“I'd never I'd never I'd never get you off my mind” it’s always thinking about Unus Annus hours

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

There are multiple lyrics in this song that just make me remember we only have our memories of the channel left

“Our every moment, I start to replace / 'Cause now that they're gone, all I hear are the words that I needed to say” the vids are replaced with only memories, replayed over and over

“Well, time can heal but this won't” I’ll be sad about this forever mind ur business

“But all I can think about is seeing that look on your face” the very last moment of the stream? Amy and Mark looking at the camera, Mark’s lil smile, Ethan looking back at the clock as the last few seconds tick by? AAAAH

Scarlet Cross - Black Veil Brides

Heard this and immediately reverted back to my middle school self but that’s beside the point.

“... you can't deny / The end is coming, the end is coming” we knew from the start that the channel would die

“Will we live? / Will we die? / Just keep on saving our goodbyes” There were points where people were theorizing that the channel wouldn’t actually end, there were clips near the end where the clock reversed by a few seconds, etc. need I say more?

“Hold onto me, and I can't let go” we’re all mourning, we didn’t want to say goodbye I know I’m not the only sad one

Body - Mother Mother

This song just SCREAMS Unus and Annus vibes I think we can all agree

“I've grown tired of this body / Fall apart without me, body” Unus and Annus are just entities using Ethan and Mark’s bodies,, they know their time is up so they have to leave,, the LORE it makes sense okay leave me alone

Here Comes the End - Gerard Way (ft Judith Hill)

At this point I’m just listing lyrics that I vibe with that remind me of UA and also make me sad but that’s because I’m dumb and I don’t know how to express myself or explain my thoughts oops

“The time is running out / The days are moving fast” literally every day after each video,, seeing the clock tick down? My HEART she hurt

“The clock is moving / Hands to midnight / Can we get through this?” For me, the stream ended right at midnight so THE VIBES I was sobbing

When Can I See You Again? - Owl City

“Switch on the sky and the stars glow for you / Go see the world 'cause it’s all so brand new” this lyric remind me of the vid where they were in the desert and they just looked at the stars and had a nice talk it was so wholesome I love them

“It's been fun but now I've got to go / Life is way too short to take it slow” Unus Annus is gone but we all have to remember to live, do what you want with no regrets.

(Don’t Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult

This one is another pretty self explanatory one honestly

It’s also just a vibe like a lot of the other songs that’s all I have to say about it

Safe and Sound - Capital Cities

This song just radiates such good feelings man oof

Unus Annus felt like such a safe lil bubble for me?? Like,, Mark and Ethan did dumb shit because they WANTED TO I felt so validated like,, I also would do dumb shit if I could that probably makes no sense but I love them so it doesn’t matter

Happiest Year - Jaymes Young

This one absolutely BREAKS MY HEART

“I'm here to admit / That you were my medicine” yall,, UA was the only thing that kept me going and I'm not afraid to admit it

“Thank you for the happiest year of my life” literally the only thing that gave me serotonin oops :/

“So wake me up when they build that time machine / I want to go back” do I need to explain? Even though this year has been shitty irl, I would relive it in a heartbeat

The 3ND - Story Untold

I know this is a breakup song,, but hear me out

Some of the lyrics FIT and it’s my playlist I can do what I want shut up

“I never wanted what we had to end / But now it's over” once again,, no need to explain

“I know we had our dreams and we had plans… / That now it's time to let go” this just makes me think of the video where they talk about the video ideas they had but never filmed or just didn't post,, the CONTENT WE COULD'VE GOTTEN i'm sad

Still Remembering - AS IT IS

These boys.. My fave band of all time but also literally all their songs have immaculate vibes

“My heart's as heavy / As these nights are long” this gives me after the stream feels,, I stayed up way too long after it ended I couldn't sleep because I was sad :/

“Can you tell me what hurts more / Is it remembering or forgetting?” The whole chorus just hits me so hard man I'm so scared that I'm gonna forget unus annus because my brain is shitty even though I know I won't? I’m deadass getting a tattoo as soon as I can

Take Me Away - With Confidence

This song just makes me think about how UA was kind of an escape for me? And a lot of people yknow sometimes you just need to get your mind off of this happening around you and UA was really good for that in my opinion

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Once again saying I would relive this year if I had the chance

Unus Annus was one of a kind, no one will ever be able to recreate it

Where’d All the Time Go? - Dr. Dog

A year sounds like such a long time but it goes by way too fast

Also I think Amy had this on her instagram story after the stream? I don't remember but THE VIBES

This December - Ricky Montgomery

Why do so many ricky montgomery songs have UA vibes? Idk

“Well, this December, I'll remember / Want you to see it when I do” UA ended in november,, we’ll remember in december and forever it FITS

“It’s just a little bit, It’s just a little bit / Lonely in this home / It’s always colder on your own'' honestly now that UA is gone there's like,, a void and I'm sad (I keep saying that but it's true so..)

When You Die - MGMT

Maybe this is the song Amy had in her story after the stream? Again,, I don’t remember

I think this one is also pretty self explanatory

Except I was feeling A LOT when the channel died but I’m glad the team was also kinda in their feels a bit yknow? It made me feel better about it

Good Times - All Time Low

“Underneath the stars we came alive / And singing to the sky just felt right / I won't forget the good times” once again,, that stargazing vid? IM CRYING all the vids gave me so much serotonin I loved them all and each day was such a good day

“I'll hate the goodbye” I don't need to explain..

“Middle fingers up, ego trip / Devil may care but we didn't mind” the chaotic vibes of the channel is what sucked me in I live for chaos that's what this lyric makes me think of

Goodnight, Travel Well - The Killers

I don't think I really need to explain this one because,, just listen to the song and you'll get it but I'll just list some fave lyrics of mine

“There's nothing I can say / There's nothing we can do now” end of the stream vibes for sure

“And all that stands between the souls release / This temporary flesh and bone / We know that it's over now” Unus and Annus vibes

Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

This is one of the songs that I hear a lot in like edits I see on twitter and stuff associated with UA and I Get It the vibes are so good the song is so good I love it

“Oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you / I need you here to stay” one of my fave lyrics and also just,, makes sense I miss UA

As the World Caves In - Matt Maltese

Another song that's in a lot of edits and stuff that's also,, amazing and MAKES SENSE the vibes!!

“And here it is, our final night alive” the STREAM

“You put your finest suit on / I paint my fingernails / Oh we're going out in style babe” Our boys,, Unus and Annus in the suits and eths painted nails? An absolute LOOK

I just love this song so much its so good and makes me so sad

The End. - My Chemical Romance

This song is just So Sad

And the heart monitor beeping in the beginning?? Reminds me of the clock ticking my heart is BROKEN

If you actually read all of this? I love you!! This was 6 pages so thank you for sticking through and listening to all of my dumb thoughts

[maandags]

the watchmaker (Finn Shelby x reader) {part one}

yknow the thing is. the thing is that if you’re writing about something u know jack shit about (in this case: mechanics and clock-making). and ur too lazy to do proper research bc fuck that. all u gotta do. is be confident as hell in the absolute horseshit you’re about to spout

-- -- --

Summary: After your uncle died, you decided to rid yourself of your troubling past and move to Small Heath, into the flat and workshop he left you. Soon after, though, Tommy and Finn Shelby crash into your life and bring back unwanted memories.

Genre: light (?) angst, fluff (ish)

Word count: 9.5K

Notes: CW: death mention - {part two} - masterlist - this first part is pretty tame but don’t be fooled!! the pain will come!!! (again. blame @panda-noosh)

-- -- --

Small Heath was always so dark, even when the sun sat high and proud in the sky.

You hated it. You hated it because you couldn't work properly without nice light, so you constantly had to have lamps on in your workshop and you had bills to pay, damn it, and the cost of light meant you had to cut on other expenses, like food that didn't taste like it had sat rotting in a barrel for six weeks straight, or a decent fucking drink.

You were never one for gloomy weather and rain, even though it was all you'd ever known. Your dad had once taken you on a small trip to the south of England, and you'd been lucky to catch some sunlight. You'd been giddy and happy and had spent all day playing on the beach. The next day it had rained, and you remembered how you'd looked out of the window, wistful and missing the sun.

Birmingham wasn't like that. It was always unforgivingly chilly and on the few days you did get sun there was a fierce wind sweeping the streets. In an attempt to make your workshop a little more welcoming–to make it feel a little more like home–you'd strung up a couple of wood windchimes, and they made a hollow ringing noise when the wind found it necessary to show up again.

Today was one more grey day. Though you hadn't expected anything different, it was still somewhat of a disappointment to wake up in a dark room illuminated only by the small oil lamp you kept on your nightstand. You turned the keys to your workshop with a jingle, lifting the rickety door slightly up so you could turn the handle and open it. Your workshop was only a few streets down from your flat. You were lucky to have inherited this place, small and cramped as it was: it was a roof over your head, and you didn't have to pay rent.

In your workshop, your tools sat in their boxes, and the ones too big to sit in boxes sat on their respective tables. Some even had a place on the floor. Grinders, hammers, the tiniest of screwdrivers and even welding equipment–you had it all, and as always when you entered your shop, you released a little sigh of contentment.

Because maybe you disliked Birmingham. Maybe you were counting the days until you had enough money to get the hell out of there. Maybe you spent as much time as possible working, working, working until you could barely stand on your feet because it was the one thing that didn't leave you completely hopeless–but when you walked into your workshop, all your troubles faded to the back of your mind and nothing existed but the grind of metal on metal and the satisfying click when the pieces finally fell into place.

You hung up your coat and stretched, popping the joints in your neck and shoulders. The thing with being one's own boss is that one could decide themselves when to come in and when to leave, and when to be satisfied with the work done. It was nice to not have someone watch over your shoulder constantly, as had been the case in a few of your internships before you'd started working for your uncle.

Your uncle had been a strange man. Strange, but sweet. Quiet. He was more of a clock-maker than a mechanic, but he was a certain jack-of-all-trades when it came to that particular field of expertise. He was the one who'd taught you almost everything you knew about mechanics and clock-making, and he was the one who bought the workshop and flat in Small Heath years prior. He'd left them both to you when he died six months ago, and you'd moved in a few weeks after his death.

On your walls still hung some of your uncle's pieces. There was a big clock with a shiny ivory face, with a frame made out of beautiful purple wood and decorated with swirls, along with some other clocks all ticking in unison; there were also three copper wire sculptures, part of a series he hadn't been able to finish. They were animals; a bird of paradise from a picture he'd once showed you, a wolf mid-leap, and a cat sitting passively on your desk. You called it Henry–after your uncle–and you liked to think he watched over the shop whenever you were gone.

Henry (your uncle, not the copper cat) had loved the smaller mechanics. The intricate workings of watches an music boxes and typewriters. The smaller machinery. You had taken after him in that aspect, much preferring to tinker with smaller, more delicate components than fix cars or big engines or something like that, which usually required little actual engineering and a whole lot of whacking with a wrench and cursing.

But Birmingham wasn't one for appreciating the finer art of small mechanics. In fact, the majority of your customers in the few months you'd lived here had brought you either cars or guns. Sometimes, if you were really lucky, it was a locomotive that had stopped working like it should, and you'd had to become proficient in steam engineering in two days because no one had listened to you when you'd said you didn't think you were the right person for the job. That had been three weeks since your arrival, and you'd since learned to say no.

You sat down behind your desk, dropped your chin in your hands and stared at Henry, who sat placidly on his wood stand and stared back with shiny copper eyes. "What should I do today, eh?" you muttered, toying listlessly with a spring the width of your finger, making it dance on your desk. Business had been slow these past few days and you were running out of things to do.

Of course, that sort of thoughts are curses, and soon after you would regret thinking them, even though you didn't know that just yet.

The door opened, and you turned to greet the customer, plastering a fake smile on your face and repeating your rather extravagant greeting in your head, but once you recognised the man you froze, the smile falling as fast as it had appeared.

"Morning," said Tommy Shelby, casually casting a glance over the surface of your workshop. You followed him with your gaze as he slowly picked his way over to you, your fingers slipping into one of the pouches on your tool belt and gripping a screwdriver on reflex. You merely nodded a greeting in return.

Behind him entered another figure. Younger than him; tall, thin, a mop of brown hair cut in the ridiculous Peaky Blinder fashion. You were pretty sure it was Finn, the youngest of the four Shelby brothers, but you couldn't be exactly sure. You'd only seen him a few times, and from afar, at that. He didn't seem to be all that content to be here, like he wanted to do nothing more than leave, and you had to agree with him. Please go, you begged silently. Please let this be a mistake.

You couldn't afford to get yourself involved with the Peaky Blinders. Not now, not when you were this close to finally leaving their cursed den.

"What can I do for you, Mr Shelby?" You tried for a smile. Be respectful. Be polite. Try to get them out of your shop as fast as possible.

"This is a nice place," he started, ignoring your question, doing a full turn and raising an eyebrow at you. "Very nice indeed."

"Thank you, sir."

He picked up a fragile piece, bars and springs and pistons and gears hanging on by a thread and you visibly flinched at how roughly he handled it, but dared not open your mouth. He brought it up to his face, inspecting it, and you felt the need to mutter, "It's not finished," because it wasn't and you'd spent days on that single small piece and he could break it at any time if he wasn't careful.

"I don't doubt it," he said before throwing it down again. You cussed under your breath and gingerly picked it up after him, carefully turning it over to inspect any damage. Some gears had shifted from their places and you clenched your teeth as you set it down again and went to search for a pair of pliers and a small screwdriver.

If it had been anyone else, you would have thrown them out immediately. Hell, if it had been anyone else you would have screamed at them to stop touching your fucking stuff and to get the fuck out.

But it wasn't just anyone else.

It was Thomas fucking Shelby, and if Thomas Shelby shows up in your workshop unannounced something is about to go very wrong.

So you kept your head down and snatched up the needed tools, pulling a stool with you so you could fix the damage on the half-finished piece. You squinted, picked at the gears and bars and pursed your lips, waiting for Tommy to say why he was really here. Because there was something else. Tommy Shelby doesn't just stop by for a chat.

And you were right. He swiftly pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and you ground your teeth together. He's just doing it to get a rise out of you, you told yourself. That, and because he's so addicted to the damn things he can't go half an hour without lighting a new one. He'll be gone soon enough.

But he took the cigarette from his lips and said, tapping the ash of the smouldering end onto your floor, "I have a proposition."

That hardly surprised you. He was, after all, nothing more than a businessman.

And then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a gold-coloured pocket watch, dangling it in front of you and ever so slightly pulling a corner of his mouth up into a knowing smile.

You thought you managed pretty well to keep a straight face. With the barest of looks at it, you said, "Does it need fixing?"

It didn't need fixing, and you knew that perfectly well.

Tommy sighed and dropped the watch onto your desk, and you startled slightly, cursing under your breath as the sudden movement again misplaced some of the parts you were trying so hard to piece back together. "Don't play dumb, Y/N."

Oh, so he knew your name. You kept quiet, picking at the last few parts before you were satisfied with the result and picked it up again to tuck it away somewhere it wouldn't get broken again. As you made your way through the various working desks you had stalled out a little haphazardly around your shop, you replied, "Sorry, Mr Shelby, but no."

A cautious silence. "And why not?"

You grabbed a rag and cleaned the dark grease off your hands. "I don't do that kind of work anymore. You'll have to find someone else."

"But you know as well as I do that there is no one else who provides the kind of services you do. It's quite unique."

You clenched your teeth. "In case you misunderstood the first time I said it–I don't do it anymore. Now, unless you have actual work for me, get the fuck out of my shop."

It was probably not a good idea to talk to Tommy Shelby in such a way, but at the moment you were shaken up and didn't give the slightest of shits. Just to give your fingers something to do, you plucked a piece of thin copper wire from your tool belt and started working it in the palm of your hand.

Tommy didn't move. Instead, he took a last puff from his cigarette and flicked the butt onto the ground, which irritated you beyond belief. "Tell me, Y/N. Why did you come here?"

The question took you aback and you blinked. "What?"

"To Birmingham. You must have known it's not quite the place for a kid like yourself to settle down and build a life." He threw a look outside, through the drab window, where a small, dirty boy ran across the street, alone, clenching what looked like a sheet of some kind in his little fist. "I've never seen you around before. So what are you doing here?"

You looked away with a frown. "My uncle left me this place. And–and a flat down the street. But don't worry," you added in a mutter, "I'll be gone from your precious Birmingham as soon as I can."

That got his attention. You could tell. And you also knew then you'd made a mistake, because he'd found something he could use as leverage: your ability to leave. Because to leave, you needed money. And money was something Thomas Shelby had plenty of.

"I'll make my offer again." Out of his pocket came a thick brown envelope and he chucked it onto the desk in front of you. You slowly reached out, keeping your gaze steady on his face, then flicking down to peek inside the envelope. In your head you counted as you flicked through the notes, and your heart started hammering inside your chest.

"Consider that a little extra. Take the job and I'll triple it."

That would bring the total to... "Six thousand pounds?"

Tommy inclined his head. "If you would be so generous as to do what I've asked."

That would mean you only had to do this one job, this one single job, before you could leave. Once this was done, you could just... go. Anywhere. Six thousand pounds. Your fingers mindlessly played with the lip of the envelope, and you noticed the gleam of satisfaction in Tommy's eye. He knew he had you. You took a breath, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing a long exhale.

"Fine," you finally said. "Fine. I'll do it."

Tommy smiled that calculating smile of his. "Ah, fantastic. Good." He pointed at the watch that still lay in a heap on your desk. "I'll just leave that here, then. Get it done in a week."

That was a reasonable deadline. A day or so to get everything you needed from the places you knew in London, then another five to actually assemble it... You should be able to get it done just fine. You'd had worse deadlines.

He nodded, then turned and started out of the shop.

You blinked, then said, "Hey. Wait a minute."

Irritated, he faced you again. "What?"

You folded your arms, the money envelope warm and tingly against the sensitive skin of your fingertips. "I have a few conditions."

Conditions. It hadn't even been half a year and you were already slipping back into the ruthless, dangerous business-like attitude that was the reason you moved out of your former town in the first place. You bit your tongue. It'll only be once. This is the last time. The words felt rather hollow in your mind.

Something flashed in Tommy's eyes. He wasn't used to someone as lowly as you daring to make demands. "Conditions?"

"Just a few."

After a brief second of internal debate he rolled his hand in a Go on gesture.

You took a breath. "You will finance the trips and the supplies that I'll need to get started."

"Of course."

"My name will stay out of this. Completely and absolutely. I am not involved in this project whatsoever."

His eyes shone. "Yes."

"And, lastly," you took another shaky breath, "when I'm done, and I leave this place, none of you will ever contact me in any way, shape, or form again. Ever. And I want that on a contract, in black and white. Signed by you and then by myself."

A beat of silence before he nodded and said, "Alright."

His complacency took you by surprise. You'd expected him to argue, or even plain deny some of your demands. The fact that he went along with them without any remarks had you on edge, because that was not like Tommy Shelby at all.

He popped another cigarette between his lips and lit it. "I'll send someone with the contract when it's ready. You'll get started right after."

Still somewhat suspicious by the ease with which he accepted your conditions, you nodded stiffly, then cast a rather significant look towards the door. Tommy laughed. "Well, Finn, I think it's time for us to go. I don't feel like we're very welcome here."

Finn. You startled. You'd forgotten he was here. He pushed himself off the doorframe he'd been leaning against, then, shooting you a look laced with suspicion and hostility, walked out before his brother. Tommy gave you a last nod, then followed.

You stood behind your desk for a while, mind only just beginning to process what you'd agreed to. Heaving a sigh, you dropped onto a stool, throwing your head back and rubbing your eyes. You glanced at Henry the Copper Cat who, thankfully, still sat on his wooden stand. You had asked for something to do–well, Henry sure had delivered, you thought wryly.

You fingered the envelope that you hadn't let go of since it had found its way into your hands. Two thousand pounds were inside it, and should you complete the job that sum would transform into six thousand.

For a moment, you toyed with the idea to just take the two thousand and leave. Two thousand was already enough to buy a small flat from, and you could just pack up and take the next train to London or something. Change your name and never look back.

But they'd find you. Tommy Shelby would find you, and he'd kill you, and it wouldn't matter how well you'd tried to hide, for he would find you, because he could find anyone. Anywhere. It just wasn't worth the risk.

The contract was to be delivered to you shortly. Until then, all you could really do was wait.

Only a second after Finn Shelby stepped through your door, you raised the visor of your helmet and set down the welding tools you were wielding.

He looked at you for a second, and you looked at him, returning the fierce stare he was giving you. Over his shoulder was slung the strap of a messengers bag. Your eyes narrowed and you took off your helmet with a flourish, plopping it onto your desk. "Out with it."

His face instantly went flat, and his voice came out strangely monotone. "Here is the contract you asked for." He reached in his bag as he walked towards you, and you folded your arms in front of you because you felt like you needed to look at least a little bit confident. At the moment, you felt like you were oozing about as much confidence as a mouse caught between two cats.

"Signed by Mr Thomas Shelby–" He tapped the little box on the paper that bore a small, pointy signature– "and to be signed by Y/N L/N right here." His finger moved to a second box and in the same breath he produced a pen with his other hand that he set down on the file. You pursed your lips, didn't question how he knew both your real first and last name. Last time you checked, you'd been using a fake last name every time someone asked you for it.

You only hesitated for a split second before scribbling down your signature. "All right. You can go now."

But he didn't. Instead he calmly collected the contract, slipping it into an envelope and tucking it in his bag, taking his sweet time. Then he looked at you and kept looking at you until you had to look away out of pure discomfort.

"I don't trust you, you know," he finally said.

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you," you replied breezily. "Now kindly get out of my workshop, I have some errands to run."

Still he didn't move. "Thomas told me about what you do."

You froze and clenched your jaw, hands stilling where they fiddled at the buttons on your welding apron. "What I used to do. It's not–I don't do it anymore."

At his raised eyebrows, you hissed, "I don't usually get paid six thousand pounds for a simple pocket watch bomb, Finn Shelby. If you think I'm going to let that opportunity slide, you're wrong."

He hummed, nodding, toying with his lower lip. "A pocket watch bomb. You don't hear that one often."

You shrugged stiffly. "Well, you know–it's not something everyone uses on the daily."

"Indeed it isn't." A beat of silence passed as you collected your gear and put everything in their respective storage boxes.

Then a question popped up in your mind and it fell past your lips before you could stop yourself. "How did you find me, anyway? I thought I'd been pretty thorough in my identity erasing business."

"Oh, you had, that's why it took us this long to be sure about who you were. You know, this place has been stood empty for almost two decades, and suddenly you show up, with all the paid contracts, and no one remembers even seeing you around... I mean, that's bound to arise some suspicion."

He was talking so carefully, selecting every word as if from a catalogue and piecing them together like beads on a necklace. It reminded you of the way Tommy talked. Their tones were so similar it was almost creepy.

But something about it was... off, somehow. He was thinking too much about it. Trying too hard to make it sound natural, and you guessed it could have sounded natural to anyone who wasn't listening as closely as you were. Why someone would try this hard to be like Tommy Shelby in any way, shape, or form was beyond you, but you guessed it was something like brotherly admiration or something. You didn't know. You didn't have siblings.

"Nothing happens in this wretched place without Tommy knowing about it, eh?" You were only half-joking, but the serious nod Finn gave you wiped the smile off your face as quickly as it had appeared.

"I guess so."

You breathed an exasperated sigh. "Well, like I said, I have some errands to run. And I don't think Tommy would be very happy if he knew you'd been keeping me from my work."

He perked up. "Ah, yes. About that–I'm coming with you."

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes. "Like Hell you are. I can do this just fine on my own."

"Tommy's orders."

"Of course they're Tommy's fucking orders," you mumbled under your breath, snatching your coat and your hat from their hangers. "Fine. But I'm stopping by my flat to get cleaned up and changed and you're not coming in."

You stretched out your cleaning-up as long as you physically could, even considering running an entire bath, but you felt like that would be taking it just a tad too far. Finn was only staying outside to humour you. He was a Shelby for God's sake; he could come and go wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased. Besides, you did have a train to catch.

You tugged on some gloves and a scarf and finally stepped out of your flat, a good forty-five minutes later. Finn looked rather unhappy at being left in the cold for so long. Tough luck. Bet he's never had to wait for anything in his life, you thought bitterly.

"Let's go," he grumbled. "Train leaves in twenty minutes."

You'd half expected him to keep peppering you with questions the entire ride, but he kept silent most of it, ignoring you and looking out the window, which was fine by you. The first question only came when the both of you had stepped out into the busy streets of London.

"When did you start doing this?"

"What, making bombs?" You scoffed at the slightly panicked look he cast around, like he expected to be jumped any moment. "Calm down. Nobody's heard us. Besides, even if they had, you could shout out that you're on your way to shoot the fucking King and no heads would turn."

"Ah. You didn't answer my question, though."

"Fine. If you're so keen on knowing, I started... five, six years ago? I can't really remember."

He looked at you, surprised. "But weren't you just a kid back then?"

You shrugged, kicking a pebble out of your way. "I mean, yeah."

That was all you were going to tell him.

The truth was that you did start making bombs when you were a kid. In fact, you made your first one when you were just thirteen; and back then you hadn't even known exactly what you were putting your effort into. Your uncle Henry had been seeing people, strange people you hadn't seen about the shop before, and you were curious as to what they were talking about. It would have been business, little twelve-year-old you supposed; they went into the back room to discuss, and you weren't allowed in the back room, so naturally you eavesdropped on them every at chance you got.

But as far as you knew, they talked about watches and clocks, and times and other such cryptic details whose meanings you couldn't figure out. When you curiously asked your uncle about it–because you were twelve and had little to no verbal filter–he'd patted you on the head and told you not to worry about it. You hadn't, because you were twelve and Henry had just started teaching you how to build clocks, and he said he'd let you run wild and design your own proper clock when you had the basics down and that was the most exciting thing to happen in ages.

And then, around a month after your thirteenth birthday, Henry had sat you down and explained that sometimes, when money was tight and one has people to look after, one made certain choices that one otherwise wouldn't make.

He'd explained who the men were–the ones you'd overheard him talking to–and what they wanted, and he'd told you that he was giving you a choice: to either go and live at Mrs Bunting's–whom he had talked to and who had agreed to take you in–and find a job at another mechanic's, start over; or to stay with him and lead a life filled with danger and uncertainties. I won't be able to protect you from this forever, he'd said.

You had not hesitated a single second.

You were to stay.

And people always had something to say about you. Always they had that look in their eye when you were out to run errands for Henry, for they had their own suspicions about what he did; when they once had been so kind and welcoming towards you they turned away and whispered behind their hands.

You had known the dangers when you accepted to stay. You had known exactly what you were getting yourself into. More than once, when a job was completed and the bomb was on its merry way, you questioned whether the choice you'd made was the right one. Always you came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. Because the choice had already been made, and there was no backing out now. And while you sometimes wondered about it, you found that you didn't really have any regrets. You just did what people wanted from you, no question asked.

Did that make you a bad person?

You shook your head, forcing your mind to refocus on the present. Your feet had carried you to the street you needed to be, and you briefly scanned the signs hanging out front of the shops before ducking into the one you were looking for.

The shop was lit by oil lamps casting a yellowish glow over the various items; spices and wood and candles and powders, exactly like you remembered. It seemed innocent enough, but you knew first-hand that you shouldn't always trust appearances.

The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow and puffed out a cloud of smoke, plucking a pipe from his lips. "Well I'll be damned. It's you. Didn't expect seein' you round 'ere again."

You nodded. "Jimmy."

"Yer usual, eh?"

"Please."

Jimmy grinned wide at you, barely paying any mind to Finn bar a subtle once-over, then shouted over his shoulder, "OI, HARRY! Y/N's order!"

From the back came a grunt. "Y/N? What's them doing here?"

"None of yer business, lad. Just do what's fuckin' asked of ye."

You threw Finn a look, fingering your sleeve cuff. A loose thread was hanging off it and you plucked at it, just to give your hands something to do. "Jim was my uncle's friend," you muttered out of the corner of your mouth, because you felt like you should justify his jovial behaviour. Then you caught yourself. You didn't have to justify shit. Especially not to Finn fucking Shelby.

After a few minutes of rummaging round the back, Harry appeared in the doorway and tossed you a burlap bag the size of a chicken. You caught it with a grin and winked at him, causing him to flush a bright pink. Poor old Harry had always had a soft spot for you, even though he was a couple of years younger. You tossed the owed money onto the counter and Jimmy sank lower in his chair, puckering at his pipe.

"So how've you been holdin' up, kid?"

You knew he was talking about uncle Henry, and you shrugged. "You know." As far as vague answers went, this was one of your better ones.

Jimmy nodded gravely, like he knew exactly what you were talking about. "Aye. Well, on you go. See you around, kiddo."

You threw him a wave over your shoulder as you exited the store.

"That was so weird," huffed Finn as soon as you were outside again. You gave him a side-eyed look. He scoffed. "Are all your friends like that?"

"I mean–Jim and Harry are pretty much my only friends, and I see them maybe once every two months. So yeah. All my friends are like that."

It was quiet for a moment and you kept a brisk pace towards your next destination, huddling your hands in your coat for warmth. Then Finn said, "But you had friends before, right. Back where you're from."

"Actually, not really. I was kind of... weird, as a kid. I mean, I built bombs in my free time, what'd you expect?" You forced out a laugh. You didn't like talking about this. It was a phase of your life you'd put behind you, and recounting it to Finn now was doing nothing but resurface bad memories. "My uncle was my best friend, but he died. In Small Heath nobody'll even look at me, but I think that's just how people interact with each other there, so I don't take it too personally." You thought that would be the end of it.

He kept quiet for a while, his hands stuffed deep in his pockets. But then he said, "Didn't you ever get lonely?" and it was so unexpected that you almost stopped short in the middle of the street.

You only just managed to catch yourself. "Sometimes." And you left it at that.

The rest of the trip passed in relative silence, and at each of the two stops you made the store clerks recognised you, and a bit of slightly awkward conversation followed. Finn always stood behind you, looking only the slightest bit out of place, and though he attracted some questioning stares you always ignored them, or any inquiry pertaining to him. When someone asked who he was, you cut them off with the curt answer of "A friend." It couldn't be further from the truth, of course–Finn was anything but your friend–but it was easier than having to explain the whole ordeal.

When you had everything you needed, you stood out in the streets for a moment, just watching passersby and keeping a casual but firm hand on your burlap supplies bag. "Let's have tea," you said suddenly.

Finn cast you a look. "What?"

"Tea. You know, the drink with the leaves and the warm water and biscuits and shit."

"I fucking know what tea is."

"Fantastic. Let's have some, then."

"Now?"

"Why not? Our train doesn't leave for another hour and a half and I know a place not too far from here."

He only hesitated for a second before he said, "Alright."

You stirred your tea–needlessly, because you take your tea plain without neither sugar nor milk–and watched Finn spoon heapfuls of sugar into his cup. There was a moment of silence before you finally asked the question that had been eating at you since you had received this assignment. "Say, Finn."

"Hm?"

"Who's the bomb for, anyway?"

It was a reasonable question. Tommy Shelby wouldn't have had a bomb made just because he felt like it. He could have anyone killed by anyone–he'd hired assassins before, you'd heard–so why did he want a bomb to do the job now?

Finn shrugged way too casually for someone who's about to share the name of the man his brother wants dead. "Someone who pissed off the wrong people. He's got this fucking amazing security system around him, though, because apparently that's something he does often–piss important people off, I mean–and like you said before, a pocket-watch-bomb isn't something most people expect to get killed by."

You found it a solid answer, and left it at that.

But he was getting jittery, his knee bouncing restlessly under the table. He wasn't able to keep his hands still, fingers tapping the ear of his cup one second then running along the side of the table the next. His incessant fidgeting was making you nervous as well and you plunked down your cup.

"What's your problem?" you hissed, lightly kicking him under the table.

He looked up suddenly, eyes wide like he'd forgotten you were there. "Nothing."

"You're a shit liar, Finn Shelby."

"Fuck off." But there was a small grin tugging at the ends of his lips, and you felt oddly happy that you were the cause of it, which was stupid, because you'd only just met the guy.

"I'm serious. What's wrong?"

He shrugged again, curling his fingers around his cup, bringing it to his lips to take a tentative sip, then wincing against the heat of the drink. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"None of your fucking business."

You raised your brows. "Alright, mate. Calm down."

He looked away, still managing to look serious as everything with his stupid haircut that was now exposed for everyone to see since he took off his hat when he entered the tearoom, which was a gesture of politeness you hadn't expected from a Shelby boy.

You eyed the cap with equal apprehension and grudging admiration. It was symbolic of the Blinders, who got their name thanks to the razor-blades sewn into the fold of the caps. Not very obvious from a distance, but it only took one well-placed ray of light to hit the shiny metal to spot the blades, and paired with the natural Don't Fuck With Me-looks that most of the Shelby boys seemed to be born with (except for Finn–you were still finding it hard to be intimidated by his baby-faced, lanky figure) it made for quite threatening appearances.

But Finn was growing moody and quiet very quickly, and that was no fun to be around, so you kicked his shin one more time for good measure, knocked back your tea (unpleasant company isn't an excuse to let a perfectly good cup of tea go to waste) and stood. "Let's go. Train leaves in thirty minutes."

You were at the station early, but you'd already found out that when Finn got grumpy he wasn't great conversationalist, so you settled for looking at the trains rumble past and the passengers they carried. You'd always liked to people-watch. It was a way to pass the time, and it was fun to judge innocent passersby.

As soon as you got out of the train back in Small Heath, though, he seemed to regain some of his good humour, and as he walked you home he even cracked a few smiles. That was largely due to your constant joking around, trying to keep the atmosphere light. Still grinning, you walked up to your front door and stuck in the key.

"Thank you so very much for walking me to my door. Like a true gentleman."

Finn tipped his hat. "Now's when you would invite me in for a drink."

"What, like the cheap whore you take me to be? No, no, dear Shelby boy, you're sleeping alone tonight," you laughed.

With that, you shut the door behind you.

You climbed the stairs to your bedroom, deposited the burlap bag onto the floor and walked up to your window. Down below, Finn was just walking away. You spotted him on the far end of the street, and you tugged the curtain closed right as he rounded the corner.

It was only two days until you saw him again.

In fact, he let himself into your workshop, making more noise than was strictly necessary and causing you to start in your seat. You pushed up the working goggles that perched on the bridge of your nose. "The fuck're you doing here? I got five more days, Tommy said."

Finn scrunched up his nose. "Yeah, yeah. Tommy also said I should be keeping an eye on you."

For a few long, long seconds, you just stared at him. "So your brilliant idea was to do what? Babysit me while I do my job?"

"If that's what you want to call it."

You scoffed and flicked the goggles back onto your face. "Well, I hope you brought a book or something. One of those fancy crossword puzzles, or whatever it is they call them. I'm going to be busy."

"Can't read."

"Then it's going to be a long fucking day for you, mate."

Finn shrugged, approaching a stool, prepared to let himself drop on it.

"No," you said without looking up, prodding at a small part with a tiny screwdriver.

"What?"

"Not there. I need that."

"Then where am I allowed to sit?" He sounded irritated already, and an idea started to form in your head. Maybe if you pissed him off enough he would fuck off and let you work.

"The ground. But not there, there, or there," you said, pointing at a couple of completely random spots on the ground. That left a single small space in the right-hand corner, and you expected Finn to either flat-out refuse or just walk out the door, but he obediently plopped down and folded his legs beneath him. You looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment. So he was stubborn. Alright. You could be stubborn too.

Without a word you went back to your work.

He managed for exactly an hour and a half before he started to get jittery, getting up and pacing around the room.

"No, no, absolutely not," you said sharply when he reached out to touch Henry the copper cat.

His hand froze in mid-air. "I purposely chose the one thing that doesn't look fragile."

"Leave Henry alone."

"You named a cat statue Henry?"

You bristled, feeling your shoulders bunch around your ears. "He's named after my uncle."

"Oh." A silence. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong," you muttered distractedly, concentration mostly directed to the tiny gear you were preparing to drop into place with a pair of tweezers.

It was silent again for a moment, and you worked, but you were aware of Finn in your surroundings every second of every hour that passed. It made you more nervous, absent-minded, and you caught yourself on multiple occasions skipping a step in the building process or almost dropping a part, which never happened.

It was Finn. Not even him specifically, but his presence, the fact that there was someone looking over your shoulder as you built, was unsettling and made your mind deviate from the task at hand, which is not the best of things when one is constructing a bomb.

Whatever the case, you needed to get him out. Away, at least for a bit. So that you could actually make progress on this damn thing, otherwise you wouldn't even make the deadline Tommy had set for you.

Setting down your tools and popping the joints in your neck, you said, "I'm fucking starving."

Finn looked up, eyebrows raised.

You nodded encouragingly at him, picking up your screwdriver again and waving it around. "What are you waiting for? Get some food."

"I'm not your fucking chambermaid," he spluttered.

"Nah, I wish. But you're all I've got, sadly. Go on, make yourself useful while I build this here bomb." You pointed your screwdriver down at the mess of parts in front of you and grinned.

Finn narrowed his eyes, but apparently you had made a solid argument, because after a brief moment of evaluating he tore open the door and stomped outside. You blew out a breath, sitting back in your chair and taking a moment to stretch your legs and neck and shoulders and work your jaw, which had all been tense and cramped up.

Then you sat back down and continued working, this time with nothing but the blissful tick-tocking of the clock to keep you company.

About an hour later, Finn returned with a pack of sandwiches, and you perked up, only just realising that you really had been starving.

He handed you one, and you tore into it with gusto, letting your head fall back and breathing out a sigh of contentment. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his look of amusement and a questioning glint in his eyes. You swallowed, then said, "I don't always have time to eat proper lunch when I'm working."

Finn let his head fall to the side. "Y/N."

"... And I might not have eaten this morning, either.'

"Y/N."

"I'm eating now, aren't I? You sound like my fucking mum."

He pouted and took a bite out of his own sandwich, and for a moment you munched in silence.

Then you rolled your eyes. "Thank you for the sandwiches."

"Thank my aunt. She made them."

You felt your eyebrows shoot up again. "Polly fucking Gray made me sandwiches?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"No fucking way."

The look on your face must have been one of full-fledged bafflement, for he cast one look at your features and burst out laughing. The sound was contagious; intoxicating, even, and you found yourself joining him not soon after.

The days passed like that for the rest of the week. Finn would come to your workshop about ten minutes after you'd opened up, and he'd spend the morning walking around, even helping out sometimes when he could, sometimes interjecting with a question or a remark. You'd answer him, and somehow the chats would always end up with you taking the piss out of his hair or his clothes and him telling you to fuck off, but neither of you really put any bite into your words and would be able to suppress your grins in the end.

Then you'd order him to get you lunch, and he'd give a mocking bow and show up an hour later with freshly made sandwiches or boiled eggs and you'd sit at your desk, talking about anything and everything.

On the fifth day, when he came in, you pointed at him. "Oi. You're gonna be extra fucking quiet today. I don't have a lot left to do, but I gotta do it right. Wouldn't want to disappoint Tommy, eh?"

Finn saluted, then sank down in his corner and made himself small, curling up into a bal, which just looked comical given his tall frame and non-flexibility.

"I said extra-quiet, you shit. What are you doing?"

Finn looked up at you from under his lashes. "I'm melting into my surroundings."

"Right." You shook your head and tugged on your gloves before getting to work, and before long you were completely absorbed in your craft.

What was left to do was only the outside shell; the golden plaques modelled after the watch Tommy had left you, the clock-face and the tiny hands indicating the passage of time, the shiny button that would simultaneously act as a detonator. This was the more artistic part of the process, the part of the watch that everyone would see; and it was your job to make sure it looked pretty enough that someone would accept it as an impromptu gift but clean enough so that no one would suspect the true nature of the object.

You worked for hours, and at this point you had learned how to block out Finn's rummaging around in the back until it was nothing but white noise. When you looked up, he would meet your eyes briefly; you'd throw fleeting smiles at each other then you would bend over your work again.

The silence in the shop was soft and comforting. It was familiar, nothing but the sound of the wind howling outside and your own muttering to keep you company. Finn had faded to the background, as he always did.

There was a tap on your shoulder and you almost jumped, feeling your shoulders tense up for a moment until you realised that it was just Finn, and you forced your muscles to relax again. Upon closer inspection, you noticed the bag he carried, and a glance at the clock told you that it was far past lunchtime.

Finn cleared his throat. "You didn't tell me to get lunch, but I did it anyway. Because you need to eat."

You took a sandwich from him and sat back, rubbing your eyes. "Thanks. I'm almost done."

"Good."

"What, are you finally cracking under the pressure of loneliness?" you laughed, flicking a piece of ham at him.

He gave you a small smile in return. "I wasn't lonely."

That shut you up, and you ate the rest of your lunch in silence. For the first time, the air between the two of you was thick with tension and unspoken words. He had questions and he had things to say, but he kept his mouth shut and you didn't know why. He was a Shelby, wasn't he? Shelby boys weren't known for sparing people's feelings.

Maybe it was the the fact that this was probably the last lunch you'd share.

Though it stung to admit, you had grown used to his presence in your shop. You'd grown used to seeing him stroll in every morning, and having him walk you to your door when you would decide to call it a day.

You'd never been truly lonely before, but you were finally starting to understand what it could feel like.

"Let's get this thing done, eh?" you mumbled, brushing the last crumbs off your hands.

Finn nodded, flipping his cap back onto his hair.

"Your hair's still ugly. Hiding it with the cap won't do shit," you told him, just because.

Finn sighed, but his smile grew that little bit wider, and it was worth it.

And after another two hours, you were finally done. You blew out a breath and held up the watch by its chain, admiring your handiwork.

Finn looked over, expression growing excited once he realised you were finished. "Is it done?"

"I think it is," you mused.

He scrambled up and joined you. "It doesn't look like a bomb."

"That's the point, Finn dear."

You deposited the watch carefully into a wooden box filled with cotton after making sure that the detonator button was firmly fixated with a wooden separator. "I'll get this to Tommy right away."

For a moment, Finn just looked at you, nibbling on his lower lip. Then he said, "Come celebrate."

"What?"

"Tommy will want to celebrate. He's been going on and on about how badly he wants this guy dead, and he's never been able to slip past his defences. Now you're handing him the solution on a silver platter."

"In a wooden box, actually."

Finn ignored you. "Come celebrate with us. At the Garrison."

You looked away, saying nothing, and Finn nudged your arm with his elbow. "Come on. You deserve it."

"I'll look out of place," you protested, but even you could hear how weak the words sounded.

"Just... For once, don't go straight home, all right? Come have some fun."

Fun. The word sounded distant and far-away. You hadn't had some proper fun in ages. Of course, you loved building, you loved working, but it was different than a night out with friends, or just a moment of quiet and peace for yourself where you didn't have to worry about stuff exploding in your very hands.

Fun. A night out drinking, at a bar.

With Finn.

"I'll think about it," you said, quickly turning away and wrapping your scarf around your neck, just for an excuse not to look at him.

"I'll see you tonight," he called after you as you left the shop.

"Maybe," you replied over your shoulder, even though you'd already made your decision.

– – –

You walked into Shelby Company Limited without knocking, and immediately you were greeted by a sharp voice. "Oi. What's your business?"

You turned and smiled at the tall woman who'd spoken. "I'm here to see Tommy Shelby."

She scowled. "Mr Shelby's busy right now."

You smiled, jutting your chin up, the box in your bag seeming to grow warmer. "I think he'll make an exception for me."

She rolled her eyes, asked for your name. You gave it to her and watched as she strode over to Tommy's office. She appeared a moment later and informed you that Mr Shelby would see you now. You nodded your thanks and slipped past her into the office.

Tommy took his time setting his pen down, adjusting his glasses, taking a moment to shift the papers on his desk exactly half a millimeter, and lighting a cigarette before nodding at you to take a seat. You brushed a strand of hair out of your face and did so, nervously shuffling your feet on the ground. It wasn't that you were scared of Tommy Shelby–you were the one with the bomb, after all–but his perpetual threatening calmness always set you on edge. The very act of being around him had you anticipating an attack on your person, which was stupid.

You fumbled in your bag and took out the box, placing it on the desk in front of Tommy with your tongue between our lips and a look of utmost concentration on your face, as if any sudden movement could detonate the bomb inside. It couldn't–you wouldn't even have made it to the office if it could–but it never hurt to be careful, and you had to admit you were a little nervous.

Tommy blew out a puff of smoke and slid the box across the surface of the desk, slowly lifting the lid. He appeared satisfied with what he saw, and carefully replaced the cover after a minute of observation.

"So, that's it, then?"

You blinked. "Um. Yes?" You didn't quite know what he meant, so the word came ou sounding more like a question.

Tommy pushed out his cigarette in the ashtray, where it sent thin tendrils of smoke curling up into the air, and leant forward, his fingers entwined. "The watch. The bomb. There it is, in its little box. That is it."

"Yes."

He nodded. "Explain to me how it works."

For a second you just stared at him, not quite sure if he was messing with you or not. In a hesitant voice, you started to explain, sometimes stumbling on the words. "Well. The watch is just the cover, really, designed to conceal the explosives inside. The crown is the detonator." You gestured to the crown of your own watch, twisting it with unsure fingers. "It's not activated yet. There's a safety block that has to be removed before you can move the crown in any way."

You paused, and Tommy rolled his hand. You coughed awkwardly. You never had to explain how the damn things worked; you only built them. It had been Henry's job to share the finer details of the bomb, how it worked, what to do and not to do. You weren't very skilled at putting your work into words, because you never really had to think about it as you built; it was almost an automatism by now, and now that an outsider with little to no knowledge of the craft asked you to explain it, your brain blanked.

Yet you continued on, struggling to form concepts into concrete thoughts, and into words. "The seconds hand is set on the twelve, and will remain so as the user sets the time; once the crown is pushed, the seconds will start ticking. A minute will go by before detonation; one full revolution of the hand."

Tommy nodded again, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb. Minutes passed, and he still didn't speak, and you were starting to panic slightly. Then you told yourself to grow the fuck up, and that nothing bad's gonna happen, and that he probably just needed to process the mess of information you'd just spouted at him.

"So we have one minute before detonation once the crown's pushed," he mused finally.

"One minute."

You could almost see the gears in his head turn, the forming of a plan that had been non-existent just a few moments prior. Then he sat back in his chair, and all the tension in the room dissipated at once. He pulled open a drawer on his right, and out came a familiar-looking envelope. He held it out to you. "The agreed upon compensation. The extra charges for the train to London and the supplies are all accounted for."

You took the envelope, peeking inside (because you felt you had to–not because you mistrusted Tommy Shelby. For all his threatening and crime-doing, he was a man of his word if nothing else) before stuffing it in your bag.

There were still questions burning at the back of your throat, begging to be asked. Like whom exactly the bomb was destined for. Whose life was it going to end. Finn hadn't given you a name, after all. And why he had chosen you of all people; this weapon of all weapons. But you didn't think he would answer any of them, and it was none of your business what was going on inside his head anyway.

"Thank you, Y/N. You did well."

You nodded and mumbled your thanks, pushing the rebellious strand of hair away from your face. Then something else popped up in your mind, and you gave a breathy laugh.

"At least you can tell Finn to stop pestering me all day when I should be working," you said half-jokingly.

Tommy gazed at you, face blank as a fresh canvas. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You laughed again, but it sounded like nervous chitter to your ears. "Well. You know. He told me you'd said to keep an eye on me. Or something. He took the job seriously, I'll give him that."

At that, Tommy shook his head slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He plucked his pen from its stand, and popped the cap on the end. "Tonight's celebratory drinks at the Garrison, as I'm sure Finn has told you. I want you to be there."

That still rubbed you the wrong way. "What are we celebrating?" you found the nerve to ask.

After a small pause, Tommy puckered his lips and said, "The erasure of one more shitstain from the face of this Earth," which you found rather dramatic, but also gave you the feeling that this was an important fellow, if his death warranted celebratory drinks. The thought made you uneasy. What if you knew this man? What if you read about his death–his murder–in the papers tomorrow, and you recognised the name, and you would have to live forever with the burden of knowing you made it possible?

You had been making bombs for six years, but this was the first time that the consequences were so tangible. It had never felt... real before, somehow. Maybe it was because you'd never actually seen the people who you built the bombs for. Maybe it was because you were, for the first time, alone in it, when you had been able to share your feelings with uncle Henry before.

Then Tommy added, "And the crucial part you took in it," and that made you feel even worse.

[isthatacalzone]

i have this whole theory that klaus is one of the only (living) hargreeves kids who actually made an attempt to process the abuse that good old reggie put them through as children, and a LOT of it comes from the fact he’s been in rehab multiple times. klaus talks like he’s been through some pretty intense therapy that’s actually made a difference to him, and IN THIS ESSAY I WILL PROVE IT (or uh, try to) so buckle up kids cause it’s gonna be a long one

(continued below because when i say essay i mean essay)

stay with me here for a bit: klaus seems to be the only one of the siblings who actively and regularly acknowledges how much of an abusive prick their father was. think about how everyone reacts when it comes to him:

luther spent the most time with their father, was so close to him that he never got the space and time to realise just how much of a monster he truly was. it also means luther inherited a lot of their father’s traits (i’m just saying, the dude found out that he had been lied to maybe two days before everything happened with vanya and allison, of course he’s going to react the way he does when pogo tells him all about how dangerous vanya’s powers are. no one else’s opinion ever mattered before, he’s not gonna learn how to listen first in two goddamn days) and ONLY JUST started to understand that their father was a fucking monster

diego is just angry. angry at the way their father treated him (and i think it’s mostly about him, and maybe grace), angry that he was never good enough to be number one, that he could never curry the same favour with him like luther could, that he was made to feel weak all his life. why do you think he still goes out and fights crime? sure, it’s all he’s ever known, but i wouldn’t be surprised if a part of him was still trying to prove to dear old dad that he was fast enough, brave enough, strong enough to save lives (”saving lives, baby”) or yknow, fuck it, the world??

allison deferred any resentment she felt and got validation through stardom. she filled every hole she had with whatever she felt like she wanted because she knew she could get it. i dunno if allison’s actually processed what reginald put her through, because really we don’t know much about how he taught her, but we know what it made her become, and it took losing her husband and her daughter to make her realise just how terrible she’s been her whole life. interestingly, it doesn’t seem like she ever blames reginald for this, only herself, and is trying to be better because of that. perhaps allison doesn’t realise just how much of an influence he had on making her who she is? 

five is interesting. he had the least amount of time with dad as That Fateful Day took place when he was thirteen, but at that point the seeds of distrust had already been sewn. would five have tried to jump to the future so prematurely if his father hadn’t basically goaded him? daddy hargreeves pretty obviously bolstered five’s ego (”hey five cheated!” “he adapted!”) but had no idea how to reign him in, humble him so that he’d WANT to learn more. reginald was all about power and control. he LOVED pushing the kids to get them to be as powerful as they could be, but it had to happen at HIS pace. five probably never considered how much fucking up his father did in just that period of time, because most of his goddamn trauma came from finding his siblings dead in the wreckage of his home in the midst of the goddamn apocalypse, and then proceeded to LIVE THERE on his own for forty five goddamn years. of course he doesn’t think it matters (”who cares if dad messed us up?” uh, i do five, i do), with him there’s always been something else far more important to care about, but he never got the chance to grow the hell up and understand his emotions. five may technically be 58 but his physical body better represents his emotional age, lbr.

(i’m not actually gonna talk about ben here because i think he’s probably the most emotionally mature out of all of them and i’m 99% sure that’s because he’s been dead for like a decade)

and vanya. vanya literally in the second episode says “i used to see someone” (which is such a loaded line like, “used to”, why not anymore? for how long did she see this mythical therapist?) but if anything’s true about vanya it’s that she never processed the trauma, she just shut down. she never got over the way her father isolated her from everyone (which, as we all know, had WAAAY more layers than we ever could have seen coming from the first few episodes), never got over the fact she was always the outsider from her siblings. she has no relationships, doesn’t push herself or strive for anything because she doesn’t think she’s worth it. it takes one guy with a couple well placed lines to get her to fall in love because that’s all she ever wanted. and even though allison (god BLESS her heart) tries so fucking hard to get through to her, there’s too many years worth of eyerolls, dismissive glances, and “go away vanya”s for her to really start to trust her. if vanya had legitimately taken the time to understand her trauma properly, i feel like she would also have been able to understand that daddy dearest fucked the rest of them up in equal measure. 

all of that leads me onto my main point: klaus. the thing that really stood out for me whenever klaus talked about their father was how he always held him accountable for all the bullshit that he put not just klaus, but ALL of them through (”he was always in here, planning his next torment”). sure, there’s hatred there, and anger just like diego, but klaus talks about the abuse with an element of compassion for himself and his siblings that his siblings do not seem to have. he’s the only one who actively refers to him as a monster (”thank christ he’s not our real father so we couldn’t inherit those cold, dead eyes!!”), and actually seems to want to hold him accountable. i turn you toward the beautiful scene in the day that was when he talks to daddy hargreeves as an example:

klaus starts the conversation pretty irreverent “i was beside myself with grief!” at which point reginald calls him out, “you were poisoning yourself” (the only thing reggie gets any points for in this conversation is seeming vaguely sad that klaus is an addict, but even then... it’s his fault... soooooo)

klaus comes to play at this point. “oh right, well, yeah, you had nothing to do with it. locking me in a mausoleum with corpses when i was 13? no, you’re right, it’s irrelevant.” i’m gonna come back to this, because it’s a big part of the inspiration for this post.

reggie spends a lot of the rest of this conversation defending himself. “you children like to blame everything on me”, to which klaus immediately replies, “well, you were a sadistic prick, not to mention the world’s worst father”

at every opportunity he calls his father out on his behaviour. reggie starts goading him for being afraid of his power (which, yknow, screw you reggie) and klaus immediately rebuttals with “y’know i suggest you get down off your high horse there, dear papa. you never had our best interests at heart, look at your precious number one. luther found all the unopened letters he’d sent you. he knows that you sent him up to the moon for nothing.” i love this line, because not only do we see that klaus has this deep understanding of how his father screwed him up, he’s outright calling dear old papa out for the shit he pulled on his siblings too.

 reggie pauses here, and for a moment seems legitimately remorseful (which, if you watch the scene, completely catches klaus of guard. god, i love robert sheehan he plays this whole thing to perfection), saying “yes, that was foolish of me”, before continuing, “i should have burned it all.”

at which point klaus laughs. “that’s your takeaway?” he says, somehow still astounded that his father could surprise him with how little he cared after all this time. “oh wow, yeah of course it is.”

also please note that reginald gets much more forceful with moving klaus’ head around in order to shave the other side of his face at this point which i could write a whole other post about but that’s for another day because this essay is already too goddamn long

anyway, astonishingly reginald at this point asks “is he okay?” to which klaus rightly responds, “do you care?”, which first of all, stab me in the heart right now, but also speaks to something true in all of them: they all wanted their father to love them, and klaus is actively trying to find SOMETHING to redeem him by, something that would stop him being such a monster in his mind. well, maybe not redeem, but understand.

reggie pulls his usual excuse “it was to prepare you, all of you, for something bigger than yourselves” (which is a HUGE LINE BY THE WAY OH MY GOD) “you never understood that” (yh uhhh whose fault is that dingbat)

klaus takes control of the shave at this point, grabbing his father’s hand as a tear slips down his face (seriously you guys, the power play in this scene it’s fucking masterful and also it’s legitimately making me cry thinking about it) and manages to choke out, “we were just kids. little kids”. 

i really think klaus is desperately trying to get his father to admit he should have been better to them. he really has nothing to lose at this point, he’s just looking for closure. and in a way he gets it, but not the way he wants as reginald replies “you were never just kids. you were meant to save the world.”

(i think that might be the first moment in his whole life that klaus truly understands his father)

what’s my point? imagine any of the other siblings in this scene. imagine luther in this scene. how quickly do you think reginald would have been able to shut down any of luther’s questions? diego would have just tried to fight him; no way he ever would have listened to anything he had to say. i can’t even imagine how allison would have talked to him. five wouldn’t give two shits about getting to know their father again, he’d just want answers. and vanya? actually yknow what him talking to vanya could be very interesting but i digress. 

i honestly believe klaus is the only one who had the emotional maturity to be able to navigate talking to their father, the only one who could call him out on his shitty ass behaviour but still come better to understanding him on a truly compassionate level. he cries when he realises his father killed himself so they’d all get back together. would any of the rest of them manage to move past their feelings of hatred for papa hargreeves and actually understand - not only understand, but empathise - with him while still maintaining that they deserved better?

i really believe that comes straight from all the years in and out of rehab. sure, rehab didn’t actually help klaus get clean - i don’t know what rehab or therapy could help you deal with dead people constantly demanding your attention all the time - but my understanding (and this is where i am happy to be corrected as i have no personal experience with this at all) is that a big part of rehab is therapy. heck, in the flashback scenes when we see when all the siblings are reading vanya’s book, he’s literally sitting in group therapy. klaus has WAAAY more practice in actually talking about his feelings and i don’t care how resistant to it he might have been, you go in and out of those spaces for long enough, something will stick. (nb: as i’m writing this, yknow who he reminds me of? gary king. if you haven’t seen the world’s end, please watch it, i think you’ll understand what i mean.)

this is not to say klaus is in any way perfect. he’s still as flawed and fucked up as the rest of them, but in terms of actually understanding his trauma? he’s strides ahead of the rest of them.