#what you feel and what i feel is like cocaine. ive tried a lot of fucking cocaine.

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[a-girl-in-neverland]

Hii TSH fandom

I just finished the book (literally an hour ago) and i have many feelings and questions and a insatiable need to ramble, so buckle up if you want to

Maybe upon reading this post, you might think that some things are a bit dumb or that i could have worked out on my own. So let ME be the first to admit, that i AM a bit slow and that sometimes i become so invested in a story/book that i do not take a step back and analyse the characters, symbols, metaphors, reading in between the lines etc.

So without further ado:

Warning for The Secret History SPOILERS!!!!!

• Somewhere in the first half, its mentioned that Bunny takes medicine for asthma and that could be the reason for him putting in weight and being irritable, but Richard says that he later found that was for another reason. What was it? By the time this is mentioned i dont know if the farmer has already been killed or not

• What happened between Francis and Bunny? I read a theory that Francis may have tried something but i dont think that Bunny would still want to be friends after

• Why did Francis, Henry, Charles and Camilla put up with Bunny? He doesn't seem like a good friend, uses them for their money, doesn't seem interested that much in greek or classics (actually i got the feeling only henry and richard were more interested)

• In the beggining, Richard sees Henry and Julian talking. And Henry kisses him. And the stuff they were talking. What was that about? Was Henry just Julian's favorite or was something else there?

• In the second half, it has this whole drama and tension between Charles and Henry. I get why Charles is pissed. I don't get why Henry is tho. That scene which Camilla tells about this meeting with a lawyer, Henry is furious with Charles but I dont get his reasons. Was it just because Charles wasn't accepting his manipulation anymore?

• Kinda off topic but has anyone suggested Luther Ford as a fancast for Francis? He's the only one i could picture in my head

Kinda off topic part 2, i read the book in brazilian portuguese and the translation was... well, it could be better. Has anyone else thought so too?

Also, this is the second Donna Tartt book ive read (first was the goldfinch) and i still cant put into words how these books made me feel. The characters are insane but so compelling. The book is lengthy but every single part is important. I cant just say it was a good book, it doesn't feel right or does justice to how i felt

Anyway, if anyone has made it this far, thanks for the patience and for letting me ramble. Hope you have a great week and dont do cocaine in the burger king parking lot <3

[youremyheaven]

https://www.tumblr.com/youremyheaven/752744430326448128/hey-i-was-wondering-what-you-said-about-nodals?source=share

Omg! I'm the Mula Sun anon. I haven't experienced this but I sure as hell would want to atleast once in my life. So far no one's been interested in me and def not like that but damn! You're really good at painting a picture like that! 😭

Also pls elaborate if you want to I would love to know more. 🥺

I hope you do <333 you deserve that and more <33 (the fun, healthy part not the other stuff)

and hehe thanku 🤪its my 13yr old wattpad author self coming out lol

idk if you meant elaborate on Nodal chemistry or about my experience with the Swati stellium guy (im assuming the former lmao)

I'll share some experiences I've had with different Nodals

I had an Ardra friend with whom I'd chill with after class and literally for like 5-6 hours, we'd just buy snacks and sit around yapping 😭😭I don't have a clue what our conversations were about, they were just about ...everything..?? time just flew by and we were always laughing :')

A Shatabhisha Sun guy used to be obsessed with me throughout uni,, he was so shamelessly and openly obsessed and even made fun of himself for being that way,, idek but he was really funny and weird af,, he was also UBP Moon so there was some Saturnian weirdness going on but when he got a gf, he asked ME for MY approval??? and he tried his damnest to get me and his gf to properly meet each other and wanted me to give him my honest thoughts??? mans was crazy 😭he was in a long term relationship and was known for being a gentleman but he was sooo weird about me,, i lowkey feel like i shouldve snitched on him to his gf but oh well

Swatis oh lord 😭😩

I know many Swatis and I've always had 🥵🥵chemistry with them

My ex was Swati Sun and oh lordy lord,, when i tell you, that man was like crack cocaine to me. i have never felt that way about anyone and i hope i never will because it was sooo foggy, so dizzying, so unstable and sooo trippy. i literally felt insane and manic. we did have 8h and 12h synastry so it could be that too??? but oh my good lord, i needed him to breathe, i needed him like air, being with him was like having oxygen pumped directly into my bloodstream 😍

The Swati stellium guy from college with whom i also share 12h & 8h synastry 🤡 we had a very obsessive kinda bond but it was different?? instead of feeling foggy, I felt like I was on fire?? prob bc of his other placements,, like 🔥🔥🔥my heart would pound whenever he came around, and THE LOOK IN HIS EYES 😩😩😩I WANT 2 SCREAM

ive actually had meh experiences with Maghas ik irl so I wont get into that (nothing horrible, just meh??? nothing noteworthy)

i havent known too many Ashwinis either ��but Mulas 😩😩I feel like every Mula I have known has held me in high regard. they've been soooo sweet and kind to me 🥺they've really taken care of me. i'm lowkey not the best at walking (i just trip a lot, idk im clumsy 😭😭) and 2 diff Mula friends from 2 different friend groups always made it a point to hold my hand when we walked??? 😩😩idk if its the dog yoni but Ardras and Mulas have always been so sweet and affectionate to me <33 the Mula girlies were always SOOO considerate and thoughtful<33 love them and wish them well.

[magioffire]

(cw for discussions of drugs/drug use)

@ crime/detective fiction writers, urban fantasy writers, writers who want to put fancy made up sci-fi or fantasy drugs into their homebrew world, writers who write characters who use drugs, and people who just need a good resource for  learning about altered states of consciousness, ive got you.

 i recently remembered two sites i used to frequent for researching psychoactive substances, and they continue to be useful, thorough resources to this day. i also have had a few people come to me over the past few months asking for such resources to help with their writing. i feel like i should share them with everyone! most people might not even find these websites in an average google search.

its hard enough being a writer and having a search history full of ....questionable google searches, all for the sake of research of course. the more taboo or specific the information, the harder it is to find reliable and non-biased sources of research. drugs are likely among the most difficult topc to find information on.  where does a person need to go to learn about such things?  make a deal wth an evil dark web wizard in exchange for forbidden drug knowledge???

wouldn't it be nice if you just already knew some free, safe, surface web websites to go to that would take you directly to the information you're looking for, saving you tons of time of scouring search engines for little crumbs of info?. well, your prayers you didnt even know you had have been answered. here you go:

erowid.org

ive used erowid as my go to for reading other peoples personal experiences with pyschoactive substances since i was a teenager. its not just a drug experience archive though, it also hosts plenty of scientific and historical articles (some very old and rare that would be pressed to find freely available in many other places on the internet) about pyschoactive substances and altered states of consciousness of all varieties. another great thing about erowid: it lists the LEGALITY of each substance it catalogues in many dfferent countres. erowid uses legal, academic and community sources  to provide a much more well rounded view of the topics it hosts.

erowid catalogues personal experiences of real life people who have published their experiences to the site (located in erowid’s psychoactive experience vault). people have recorded their experiences using everything from coffee, to lsd, to cocaine, to 5-meo-dmt, to alcohol, to mad honey, to cough syrup.

it is a go to source if you need some insight into the mind of someone recalling the most intense mushrooom trip of their life, or if you are curious if anyone has actually even *tried* that one obscure drug you heard about in a movie once, or you need to know the hour-by-hour subjective effects of a certain drug. theres good experiences, bad experiences, spiritual experience, mundane experences.  i highly recommend erowid for anyone looking for a more organic, personal, and much less clinical AND less criminalized view at the effects of psychoactive substances on minds and cultures.

https://psychonautwiki.org

pyschonautwiki will give you pretty much everything you need to know about every single psychoactive, ever, and its always being updated.

on any given page you will find information like: historical and cultural use of the drug, what drug class it belongs to, the pharmacological make up, common routes of administration, subjective and physiological effects ranked in terms of how frequently they occur and at what doses, what is considered a threshold dose, an average dose, a heavy dose, an overdose, and a lethal dose (all lethal doses are overdoses, but not all overdoses of every drug out there are lethal), and lots of safety info. this site goes very deep into recording the cognitive, sensory, psychological, emotional and physical effects of drugs.

its a super clean, easy to navigate site. i believe its most useful as a resource to writers who want to know how to portray a drug trip or drug abuse accurately down to the last detail -- as every drug creates a unique and entirely subjective effect.  like erowid, this site’s collection of information expands beyond just substances: it also has information on other states of consciousness not induced by substances, including lucid dreaming, meditation, and near-death-experiences.

long gone are the days of portraying your character’s fever dreams or  sci-f space drug trp as a parade of pink dancing elephants (unless, of course, thats exactly what your’e gong for. then by all means). now you dont have to do nearly as much guess work  as to how a specific substance generally effects people, and get more creative ideas for how you can rattle your character’s psyche.

hopefully, these resources might prove helpful to find a no-bullshit attached  resource with minimal anti-drug propaganda, and most importantly credible information about drugs and drug use. so people can research these things without ever actually getting involved in anything dangerous. they are also, obviously, good harm reduction resources, which is the original intention of these sites.

i will continue to add if i find more good safe websites!

disclaimer: these sites are intended to be used for educational and research purposes. do not try anything illegal or dangerous that may be recorded on these websites.

[keravnous]

Southside Alive!; rodrick heffley/reader (smut, minors dni)

read pt. I here | read pt. II here | read pt. IV here

word count: 5,1 k

sooo, v said rodrick doing coke before church and I said remote vibrator

The Heffley's and the Y/LN's are invited to the same wedding on a sunday morning. Rodrick has made plans on how to spice things up a little...

warnings: all characters are 18+, she/her pronouns, (semi?) public sex, daddy kink, toys, name calling, slight bimbofication, he's hitting it raw, drug abuse (cocaine - don't do drugs kids, really, it's not cool)

the title is from the song "Southside Alive!" by The Walking Trees.

You check your face in the tinted window of your father's car, fixing your lipgloss.

It had been a couple of days ago that the two of you had found out, just as you and Rodrick were trying to figure out when you could hook up again. You were babbling about not being free on the weekend, because your mother would drag your whole family to this stupid wedding you weren't interested in at all. His head had snapped up at that, brows shooting up, as he told you that his family would be attending a wedding, too. The two of you soon figured out, that your mothers knew the same bride, thus, your families would be attending the same fucking wedding.

You straighten back up again and look around. Your father is arguing with your brother, your mother carefully handling the presents. Your family was rather early, got lucky and found an empty spot on the sidewalk right across the church. Thus, you can watch people draped in their finest clothing, pastel dresses and black suits, already climbing the stairs - chatting, laughing. There are bouquets of white flowers everywhere, mingling with the red and oranges of the fallen leaves.

Your phone vibrates in your purse.

meet me at the parking lot.

"Who is it?", your mother asks, fondling with the bunch of flowers she's holding, while your father tries his hardest to fix your brother's tie. You watch them and surpress a laugh, your mother and you exchanging knowingly amused glances.

"Someone from my english class, I-", you desperately try to come up with an excuse, "I will have to call her real quick, we are currently working on a project together. Don't wait for me!"

You don't wait for an answer, already hurrying away. At least that wasn't a complete lie.

_

Rodrick's leaning against his family's car, key in hands. He wears a button-up and dark chinos, but apart from that he doesn't really look like attending a wedding, with his doc's and jeans jacket. The lot is completely empty, a secure and quiet place, with its tall and still green hedges secluding it from the street.

"What is it?", you ask, trying to sound rude but failing miserably. You missed him.

"Told'em I forgot something in the car", he opens the door, grinning at you, "Sit, I gotta show you something." Something in his voice tells you that it's not up for debate.

You take a look over your shoulder and make sure the lots empty, before doing as you're told, climbing onto the backseat of the car. He's following right behind you, pulling you into his lap once he's seated. Your hands come to rest on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat pulsating against your palms through his striped shirt. He seems oddly focused while simultaniously out of it, his movements a little too quick, hands shaking slightly. Something's different about him and it puts your senses on high alert.

But you can't bring yourself to question it further, as he pulls a little black satchel out of his pocket and your eyes watch his flimsy hands for a second. Then it hits you. You suddendly know what's wrong, eyes trained on his face. His pupils are so so small, tiny like pinheads. His breath goes flat and rapid, there's a thin layer of sweat just above his eyebrows.

"Are you high?", you blurt out.

"Yeah", he nods, thus confirming your suspicion, your jaw going slack in shock. He pulls a pastel piece of soft plastic out of the satchel, "Had some blow before I came here."

You knew he was bad news, you shouldn't be surprised. But it still takes you off guard. Everyone your age drinks occassionally, some smoke pot sometimes. But no one you know is on anything harder, no one's snorting fucking cocaine on a sunday. You don't know if it's a punk thing to do, but your gut tells you that no matter what, it's a wrong thing to do.

"You're on fucking cocaine?", you hiss and he looks at you, mockingly gasping for air, before looking at you dryly.

"Who cares, it's just a wedding."

"It's, it's not? I can't believe-"

"What? That I am on drugs to stand the next few hours of meaningless bullshit?", he looks at you like you're the most unreasonable person on earth, "You wanna complain more or take a look at the lil' surprise I bought for you?"

Your gaze darts back to his hand. He's playfully waving around something in a pretty pale pink, that looks suspiciously like a vibrator. And that just catches you off guard, too.

He smirks at your eyes going wide and a little glassy, while wetness starts to pool between your legs. You can't fight it, it's just the effect he has on you.

Rodrick leans forward, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "Do you want me to put it inside o'you, princess? Make this shitshow today a little more interesting?"

You blink. You shouldn't. You really shouldn't.

"Yeah, fuck", you breathe out and nod, "Please."

He hoists you up, hands on the back of your thighs, rubbing over the warm flesh and groping it gently, as he nuzzles his nose into the fabric of your dress, right above your hipbone. You can feel his hot breath through the fabric and you sigh, hand finding his hair, slightly tugging at it.

"Behave yourself", he growls and there's so much confidence in his voice, that you whine at it. Rodrick's hands wander upward, rolling up the hem of your dress, exposing your ass. One hand gently strokes your right cheek, before landing a blow on it. "Or I'll have to spank you 'til your backside's all pretty and pink and you won't be able to sit, hm? Wouldn't that be a nice distraction?"

You moan, arching your back and he chuckles at that. "Should've known you'd love that. Ain't you just a pretty little slut?"

His lips wander over the bare skin of your thigh, as he wraps an arm around your waist, only to lift the skirt of your dress even higher. He starts carefully biting and nibbling at the skin of your hips, while squeezing your ass with his other hand.

His lips reach the hem of your panties and glide over the pastel lace. You can feel his hot breath on your skin, making you shudder. Rodrick's hands ghost over your loins, while his teeth are tugging your panties down, giving you a light slap on your upper tigh as you wiggle in excitement of his touch.

"Don't you fucking move", he hums, hands running up the inside's of your thighs and up to your ass, cupping it and pulling your cheeks apart. It adds a nice stretch to your wanting pussy and you moan. You can feel his eyes on your butt, like he's inspecting you, before letting go of it and spitting on two of his fingers.

"Spread your legs f'me, princess", and you do, knees pressing into the leather of the seats, while his spit-slicked fingers run along your folds and quickly flick over your clit, until you're a little sore and gasping mess.

Rodrick slowly pushes a finger into you, burying it deep inside, sliding along your walls before quickly adding a second. His thrusts grow deeper, faster and soon the car is filled with obsence sounds of your wetness chasing an orgasm on his digits and your moans. It's when his other hand darts up, still holding the vibrator.

"C'mon angel, slick it up f'me", he hums, pinhead irises boring into yours and you obediently open up your mouth, allowing him to slip the toy between your lips. It's cold and tasteless and you hum around the nice weight it puts onto you tongue. You suck on it a little, while he holds onto it, continues to finger you. "Just like that, yeah, you'll love it", his lips land on your neck, licking and kissing, barely resisting the temptation of marking you as his.

You moan around the toy at the sensation, hands wandering over his chest and his neck, while your tongue swirls around the vibrator between your lips. You rub your tongue against it, and his gaze falls onto your throat, seeing it work subtely.

"You want daddy to put inside o'you?", his voice is deep and rough and you nod, whine around the toy in your mouth. He pulls it out, a fine string of saliva connecting it to you lips, that eventually rips and dribbles down your chin. He shoves it between your spread legs, uses his other hand to spread your folds apart, rubbing it over the sensitive skin before slooowly pushing it into your hole. Your walls clench around it and you moan, pushing yourself towards it, until your pussy swallows it whole and it's pressing nice and snug against your walls.

"Shit", you curse, slightly wiggling around in his slap, trying to adjust to the stretch and the delicious pressure. His hands wander up, over your dress, squeezing your tits and then ghosting over throat.

"D'you want to me to put it on?", he licks his lips and your hole clenches around it. He carefully puts your panties back in place.

"Yes, please", you breathe, nodding, wanting to feel it. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders again, bracing yourself for it, while he digs his hands into the pockets of his jackets.

"There we are", he hums after a few seconds, pulling out a slim remote, pressing a button.

You gasp as the vibrator comes to life, a nearly completely silent buzz errupting inside of you. It feels gorgeous, the way it fills you up, the way the vibration reaches down to your folds and up to your g-spot.

"Feels so good", you mewl, sinking down on his leg, wanting to rut against it. But Rodrick's quicker, grabs your hips.

"Oh no, dollface, oh no", he sing-songs and it makes your loins catch on fire, "You won't, alright? Don't make yourself come, you got that?"

"B-but-", you pout and he mocks you with the desperate sounds you make. Your fingers pull on the denim of his jacket, head thrown back, as he laughs. It's a cackling laughter, one that sounds a little rude and it makes your stomach twist in all the good ways. His face becomes stern again.

"I said no."

Something in his voice makes your mind go blank, fresh wetness pooling between your legs and your body aches for him. But you won't break his rules, not knowing what to expect with him being high.

"A-alright", you manage to huff out, nodding.

"Good girl", he praises, audibly content with your submission, as he pulls your dress pack in place, turning the vibrator off.

"I'll have some fun with that", he playfully waves around the remote, "You better head back now, you've been gone for too long, princess."

_

As you make your way back to the church, the toy filling you up so delicately while still being relatively bareable since it's not buzzing yet again, you whip your phone out.

Effects of cocaine you type into the searchbar. There are still some people entering the church and it looks like you're just in time. You take a look over your shoulder and see Rodrick strolling down the small path that leads to the parking lot. Even his walk's a little different, a little more confident and energized and your loins clench at that. You shouldn't be turned on by his recklessness, by the danger he puts himself in, but you are. You always had a thing for boys that knew no rules. Chicks dig bad boys his voice echoes in your skull, as you click on the first website that comes up on your phone.

How the drug works varies from person to person. This is how you might feel: Excited, confident and/or anxious, happy, panicky, risk-taking. Common effects on your body may be: faster heart rate, raised body temperature, feel sick and/or want to go to the toilet more.

You push open the massive front door.

_

"Where have you been?", your father straightens his suit jacket as he gets up to let you slip into the row of seats and your brother rolls his eyes. The church is buzzing like a beehive, kids screaming and elderly ladies chatting away over the noise. Your head swims with it, mind all foggy by the way the toy presses against your walls. It will be difficult to sit down and just as you're confident that you'll make it, knees slightly bend, your mom suddendly jolts up in her chair.

"Susan, is that really you?", she exlaims and you freeze, slowly turning around.

You see the Heffley family and Susan, who is strutting towards your mother, arms spread. Your mom squeezes herself past you and your family. You curse under your breath, knees bucking slightly.

They hug each other, immediately laughing and exchanging friendly small talk.

"It must've been at least 5 years!"

"Do you remember Carla? She had another daughter!"

"No way!"

You lock gazes with Rodrick and he fucking winks at you. Your knees turn soft and he smirks, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. You know what's hiding in there and if it wasn't already, wetness would be pooling between your legs at the thought.

"Why don't you sit with us?", your mom asks, eyes gleaming and Susan is enthusiastic about it. They initiate a round of friendly introductions and both your father and Frank seem to hate every second of it with their guts. Your brother doesn't seem to mind, immediately catching up a conversation with Greg about some game they both seem to play frequently. It turns out that your mom knows Susan from yoga class and Rodrick snorts at that, making you chuckle.

"Here, have the kids sit together", Susan beams and pushes Greg and Rodrick down the row, the latter making kind of a show to squeeze past you. Bastard. "Y/N, so good to see you again!", she's always so friendly and thus, you fight for your life to smile back at her, shaking her hand, "Lovely dress!"

"Thank you", you hear yourself say, teeth clenched a little, but she doesn't seem to notice.

You can feel Rodrick's eyes boring into your back, practically undressing you under his gaze, but she is already turning her head once more, talking to your mother while sitting down. You're the last one still standing up, but you can feel your walls clench around the toy and it's just hard to sit back down.

Your gaze meets Rodrick's. He's fucking smirking. All good? he mouthes at you, exaggerated concern plastered on his face, eyes sparkling mischievously at you.

You bite your tongue and clench your teeth, ready to surpress a moan as you slowly sit down. It goes better than expected, but once you're seated the vibrator presses up against all the spots you love his cock to hit when he has you spread out on the bed. Your fingers dig into the fabric of your dress and you try to take a calming breath.

I am fine, this will be fine. If it stays like that, I'll be fine -

And then suddendly, just as the guests start to go silent, the buzzing starts. It's relatively slow, the same as before and most likely the lowest setting, but it makes your thighs twitch. You really want to rut against it, it makes your head swim, wanting to feel the sweet sweet pleasure. You take a few deep breaths to drown any noises of pleasure that crawl up your throat.

Next to you Rodrick stretches his legs, knee bouncing against yours as he shoots you a look. You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You want to feel him deep inside of you.

He hums quietly in the back of his throat, just a noise to all the surrounding people, but not to you. It's oddly calming having him there while it also makes keeping your cool and just sitting through the buzz ten times harder.

You want to touch him, feel him underneath your palms. There's a strong urge to lay your hand on his upper thigh and run it up, cup his crotch and feel his dick.

The vibration is steady until the guests get up for the Kyrie. You're barely standing as Rodrick buries his hand in his jacket again. The vibration picks up, just as the first notes sway through the air. It's a rather rapid pulsation that stops rhythmically and it sends waves of pleasure to your core. Your hand clasps around the back of the chair in front of you, trying to steady yourself.

"Easy, easy", you hear Rodrick mumble and glare at him from the corner of your eyes, trying to straighten yourself back up. It takes a moment and you fake a concerned look at the little heels of your shoes, acting as if something wrong with them. He chuckles at that, raising his chin a little. Smug bastard.

You make it back onto the chair once more,as the singing ebbs, ushering out a deep breath.

You slightly turn to your head and look at him. Your gazes lock and he grins, slowly nods. You shake your head. You can't take more. It will be obvious then, everyone will know.

But he doesn't care, wants to push you further and see you tremble, thus cranking up the speed a little more and you nearly jolt. It's a miracle to you why no one seems to have noticed what's going on yet.

It's a delicious pace and your clit throbs, desperate for attention and you spread your legs a little, desperate for at least a little friction from the hard surface of the chair, for it to press against your folds. It works and you try to keep your gaze focussed on the pastor, sighing in relief.

But Rodrick has other plans, one hand still buried in his pockets and suddendly you feel the vibrator errupting in a rhythm that hits all the right spots perfectly. You can't fight it anymore, you just need a little relief, a little bit of friction.

You start to slowly roll your hips, trying your hardest to make the movement as subtle as possible. The vibrator moves inside of you and your lips part a little at that, silent gasps leaving your mouth. You can feel Rodrick's gaze on you, hand resting on his thighs, knuckles turning white.

He reaches into his pockets and -

Your hand clasps around your mouth, as your body jolts forward.

"Are you okay?", you barely hear Susan's voice reaching your ear. She's sounding sincerely concerned and you feel shame bubbling up in your stomach. If she only knew.

You shake your head, desperate for an excuse to just get out of the church but she's a mother after all and mother's know an emergency or two.

"Rodrick!", she whisper-yells and his head snaps up, acting like he wasn't watching you from the corner of his eyes the whole fucking time, "Take Y/N outside, will you? She's not feeling well."

The grin he shoots you, after his mother's looking away, surely isn't appropiate for church.

_

His hand is on your ass as the two of you fly down the stairs in front of the western entrance. It feels like running away with him and the thought makes your heart beat faster, skin tingling.

"Imma fuck you so good", his lips are onto your cheek, voice deep in his throat. You're pretty sure that he has an insane confidence boost from the coke and it shouldn't be hot, but you can't fight giving in to the dominance he suddendly asserts over you.

His other hand digs through his jacket, while you hurry down the path to the parking lot. You can already see the Heffley car parked at the outer corner of the lot.

"Shit", his breath is heavy, "Dad still has the keys, fuck."

You whine and your hands roam over his shoulder, his arm, his neck. "Rodrick, fuck, please", you mewl, pressing yourself against him, lust and animalistic instincts taking over, "Need you, now."

He starts to look around, eyes roaming the lot wildly, aimlessly. "I could head back a-"

You grab his arm. "No", you shake your head, lust winning over reason, "Do it here. Fuck me here."

Rodrick looks at you for a moment and it's like the world stops for a second, all noises go deaf. And then he presses you against his family's car, you hip connecting with its hood. It stings nicely and you groan, arms wrapped around his neck. He dives forward, connecting his lips with yours, tongue licking into your mouth.

He's hungry for it, hungry for you.

He grabs your wrist, guiding your hand between your locked bodies, until it reaches his crotch. You wrap your hand around it, feel his hard dick pressing against the thick fabric, warm and pulsating. His other hand crawls up your chest, closing around your left tit, squeezing and feeling you up.

"Fuck baby, you make me so hard", he moans against your lips, hand groping your tit and the vibrator still buzzing inside of you, "Can you feel that? 'S all for you."

His words make butterflies errupt in your stomach and you palm him through his jeans, make him groan as he continues to push his tongue in your mouth. It's too much and not enough at the same time, has your head swimming in a nice cloud of lust, blocking out anything else.

Suddendly he lets go of you and grabs your waist instead, turning your around and manhandling you, pressing you against the car. His hard dick rubs against your ass and your body goes slack, falls forward, stretching across the hood of the car.

He ruts against you and you push your hips back, feeling him rub his hard crotch against you as the vibrator buzzes inside of you. You moan and he huffs out a laugh at that.

"D'you want daddy to make you cum?"

"Yes, yes, yes", you chant, already completely out of it and he freezes at that. It makes him hot all over and nearly bust a nut in his shorts like he's fucking sixteen and watching his first porn again.

"Shit, you little slut", he growls and you nod, rubbing your ass against his crotch. He wants to see more of you and thus you feel one of his hands grab your thigh.

Rodrick hoists one of your legs up, making one knee resting on the hood of the car while your other leg supports your weight, arms stretched out before you. It's a nice stretch that only pulls on your strings a little, adding to the bittersweet pain. The metal is cool in the chilly autumn breeze and you rub yourself against it a little, desperate for any sort of friction.

"Shit babe, look at you", his words ring in your head, your mind fogging up again, "Shit, that's so hot."

He grabs your ass, toying with the flesh a little while the vibrator inside of you is still turned up, making you gasp and moan.

"P-please", you sputter, trying to look over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, as he's pulling up the hem of your dress. You're soaking wet and he whistles lowly at the wet stain on your pastel panties, the way your folds press against it, visible through the thin fabric.

He slooowly pulls them down, taking them off of you. He has to bow down a little for that and as he bends back up, his hand cups your cunt.

Your head falls forward at the sudden contact and your hips buck, making you whine as your clit rubs against the palm of his hand.

"C'mon girl, take what you need", and thus, you do, rutting against his palm, moaning and gasping, fingers grasping at the cool metal unsuccessfully.

"Oh, would someone look at that stupid little thing", he hums, "Getting off without me really touching her. That's all you need girl, hm? Yeah, you're my stupid little slut."

The friction's not enough and he seems to notice, after you rut against his hand for a few moments. Rodrick's fingers delve between your folds, pulling at the vibrator, thrusting it in and out of you. You moan at that and he chuckles.

"Fuck, need more", you moan, back arching and he complies, one hand pulling your cheeks apart, the other one drilling the vibrator into you. You feel your hole clenching, muscle spasming and your hip rolling against his movements.

"Shit, yes, daddy yes", you whine and you feel him letting go of a deep breath at that. It only spurs you on more, ready to put on a little show, throwing your head back.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?", he mumbles, obscene sounds of the toy vibrating and him fucking you with it filling the cool air. You feel a fresh wave of arousal building in your abdomen at that, your pussy pushing out more liquid, squirting against his hand.

He keeps the pace up, pumping the buzzing vibrator in and out of your pussy, juices squelching out of your hole. You whine loudly with each thrust, sounding a lot like the chicks from the porn he still occassionally watches.

"Shit, Rodrick", you whine, "Lemme cum, please, lemme cum!" It falls off your lips like a mantra, mingling with your moans. Lemme cum lemme cum lemme cum

He kisses his teeth at your needy and high pitched gasping, taking your panties out of his pocket.

"Shut up", he growls, accentuating each syllable with a thrust, shoving your underwear between your teeth and clasping his hand around your mouth. You nearly choke on the fabric that smells and tastes like you, like your fingers or the damp air in your room do when you fingered yourself, imagening it would him doing it instead. "Shut up you little slut or they'll hear you", he rasps and you squirt again at that, juices flowing over his fingers, his hand, wetting the cuff of his dress shirt.

"Bet you actually want that, want them to hear how good I can make you feel", and you nod, while rutting against his hand drilling the toy in and out of you, moaning around the fabric and against his hand. It doesn't take more than that, his pace and the continuous vibration to rip an orgasm out of you. You moan against the fabric and his hand as you feel yourself fluttering around the toy, body releasing fresh juices as you reach your high.

Rodrick doesn't stop at that, even though he looks at your pussya and watches you come, a little caught off guard with the way your folds clench and you hole flutters. It's so very fucking pretty to him, that he can't bring himself to stop. He fucks you through your orgasm with the toy as you collapse on the car, only his iron grip on your chin holding you up.

Even though you're spend already, the last of your orgasm making your legs shake, he still keeps up the pace. The overstimulation makes you whine, arousal building in your loins, feeling sore but already needing more again.

Rodrick watches you, the way your back arches towards him with new arousal. He takes a look at your flushed, wet pussy, the way you shake beneath him and he decides that the two of you will have time for a little more.

"You think you're ready f'my cock?", and god, yes you are, pussy clenching around the toy, fresh wetness pooling between your folds, "Yeah, you want daddy's cock, don't you?"

He pulls the vibrator out of you and you whine at the loss, until you can hear both, the buzz coming to a stop and his belt being opened, followed by his zipper being pulled down. And then he's filling you up, in one fluid and rather rough motion, that has you nearly screaming against your panties. You huff and pant, fingers uselessly trying to drill into the metal of the car's hood, in a failed attempt for support.

His free hand, the one that isn't wrapped around your chin and holding your head upwards, thumb pressing the fabric into your mouth, grabs your hips as he sets for a ruthless pace.

"You little whore", he growls into your ear, "Couldn't even hold it back at church, huh? D'you really had to rub your sweet little pussy against the chair, you stupid thing?"

His words fog up your mind even more, make you moan and nod uncontrollably, while you can feel drool running down your chin, the cloth in your mouth now being completely soaked. He fucks you so good, the thick head of his dick repeatedly hitting your cervix and rubbing along your spongy walls, balls slapping against your thighs. You can feel your wetness spreading on the insides of your legs, but you're in too much of a haze to really care about it.

Your body ruts against the cold metal as Rodrick pounds into you, head being thrown back by the motion, chin being held straight and up by the hand clasped around your mouth.

You're puddy in his hands and turn even softer, more controllable for him with each one of his thrusts, body rocking forward, whines and moans buried deep in your throat. The position he has you in makes your body ache in all the right ways, in all the right spots while his cock reaches deep into you, nearly splitting you in a half. You feel sore as he pounds into you but the slight sting just makes it better somehow, lets you feel him even more.

"Wish you could see yourself", his lips graze the nape of your neck, "Wish you could take a look at how I fuck your brains out."

Your hands hit the hood of the car once, twice in a desperate and useless attempt to let go of the energy that builds up inside of you. "Gonna fuck you infront of a mirror sometime, make you see how you loose your mind when I fuck you", and you nod feverishly at that, the image making you tremble, "Shit, you dumb whore, my cock's all that's on y'mind right now, huh?"

It's true. It's fucking true but you can't bring yourself to care, enjoying yourself and the feeling his thrusts and words errupt in you too much. You love the place he puts you in.

You love the way he fucks you, the way he talks to you. Suddendly clarity hits you. You love h-

Your orgasm rips through you at that, mind going blank. Your eyes go wide first and then your eyelids turn heavy as your walls clench around him and you rut back, against his rapid and deep thrusts, riding out your high.

Rodrick moans deeply as your pussy squeezes him so nicely, hands leaving your chin, both grabbing your hips as he buries himself deep inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch and pulsating hotly inside of you and then he comes too, moaning again, shooting thick ropes of cum into you. You sigh and your cheek comes to a rest on the cool hood of the car as you pant, relishing the way he feels in you, the way your orgasm sends waves of pleasure through your body. Your limbs go slack and everything is a little muted, like your brain's wrapped up in cotton. You barely feel how he removes your spit-soaked pair of panties from your mouth, jaw slack and hurting slightly. Rodrick remains buried deep to the hilt in your pussy until he goes soft again, slowly pulling out and tugging himself back into his pants.

After a few minutes of remaining like that and Rodrick catching his breath too, a cool breeze hits your skin and you suddendly realize that you're still outside. A fresh wave of adrenaline hits your nerves and you put your leg down, slowly rising your chest. You want to get up, get your panties back on quickly to stop his cum from leaking out of you and running down your thighs, before the first guests make it out of the church and eventually to the parking lot.

But Rodrick only pushes your chest gently back down on the hood of the car. Before you can protest he is already swiftly inserting the vibrator back into you and you gasp loudly, as you feel both his and your juices being pushed back inside by the sudden intrusion.

"What-", you huff out, knees bucking.

Rodrick just hums, straightens your dress, soft fabric falling over your naked ass as he pulls you back up, lips on your neck. "Be a good girl f'me and keep that inside of you, yeah? Don't wanna have daddy's cum make a pretty little mess out of your skirt, or do you?"

You shake your head, the sudden stretch of your used hole already pulling you back in an all fogged up-cotton mouth state, saliva drying up on your chin. He brings his palm up and gently pats the remains away. "Lookin' picture perfect, doll. Now, let's head back inside, shall we?"

_

It's two days later and you're sitting at your desk, working on an assignment, as your phone vibrates. You put the pen down and unlock it, only to be greeted by a message from Rodrick. It's a short video and you nearly moan out loud at what it reveals.

It shows his hard dick, hand wrapped around it as he's slowly, delicately jerking himself off, precum pooling on the tip of his dick. He is fucking into something, something pale and lacey and very familiar - your panties from the wedding. He is moaning too, a noise that makes your stomach tingle.

wanna come over?

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye I — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal. 

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle) 

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings: drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution 

Authors Note: finally i was able to conclude that bmme can be reposted!! please welcome back this precious gem of mine 

The first time she saw was before one of her fashion shows. Small event compared to the likes of Gucci or Louis Vuitton but for her the biggest night of her life was about to happen. Unfortunately minutes before the show started, Belle got a call from her uncle to pick Taehyung up from their place and his tone sounded utterly bleak.

Walking away from a highly angered manager she rushed off to pick him up only to find him sitting outside on the porch in the cold wind, laughing a little to himself before swearing at no one. It was the first day Belle found out the things he had been taking.

Weed, ecstasy…she even found a small bag of cocaine hidden in his hoodie after getting him cleaned up.

“Where the hell did you get money for cocaine?” Belle tried to search his expression but Taehyung was too busy stumbling as he finally fell onto her bed.

“I know a guy. I promised to pay him back soon.” Taehyung mumbled turning to rest on his back, his limbs refused to stay still to a point where Belle started to get annoyed.

“Tae, how much do you owe this guy?” She asked, heart thumping a little knowing cocaine especially was not inexpensive and that mixed with other drugs…

His body being ruined was one heart-wrenching thing but she dreaded the amount of money this all cost.

Her brother stayed silent closing his eyes to let out a few breaths which caused her blood to boil even more.

Belle understood why Taehyung turned to something so putrid to relieve him of their recent troubles. There was a moment in time where she even thought to do so, maybe to ease some of the pain of they both went through. But it was getting out of hand.

-

The next morning Belle fixed him up a proper breakfast to distract him from taking another dose of the things he bought. Or was loaned anyway since he didn’t have a job or savings to pay for any of the products she found.

Taehyung didn’t even come to the table.

Instead as she walked towards the bedroom, she found him shirtless snorting something up his nose as he quickly threw his head back. Just hearing his sigh of relief made Belles’ stomach churn to near sickness.

Fuming, Belle grabbed whatever pieces of his stash she could find on the table and threw it in the bin pushing it away when he tried to savor anything that could be fished out. She saw his eyes widen so much that it almost seemed his eyeballs were going to fall on his hand.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Taehyung yelled, voice growly while his nose still had remnants of white powder dripping and his eyes bloodshot more than ever. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get shit like that?!”

“I don’t care, you’re done with this!” Belle stood her ground but kept her voice calm, her own glossy eyes fixated on his.

“You don’t fucking get it!” Taehyung winced, face contorting it looked like he was about to cry. “I need it, okay? And I got that shit from a guy that works in the Jeon Cartel!” He gestured over to the entrance of the apartment. “I can’t ask for anymore, I haven’t paid for anything.” He yanked at his hair whining under his breath like a spoiled child not getting the toy he wanted.

Belle shook her head slightly, tears forming at the brim of her eyes. “Tae…” Her voice grew shakier now. “How much do you owe them?” Her bottom lip quivered watching his chest rise and fall heavily.

He stayed silent averting his gaze.

“Taehyung.” Her tone quickly turned firm though her heart pounded painfully. “How much do you owe them?” Belle truly hated acting like the oldest between the two.

Taehyung used to take care of her every single day almost more than her own parents since they mostly focused on their oldest son because he had ‘a lot more potential’. Her stomach ached looking at all the potential slowly going down the drain right in front of her eyes.

“A few hundred…six…maybe seven…” Taehyung muttered trying not to look directly at her when he spoke. He probably knew exactly the kind of shock gripped her face and he was damn right.

Belles’ entire body turned cold, her fingers almost wanting to fish out the substances herself just knowing how much money it cost to get it. But she curled them up into fists wanting to look strong. “I don’t…know how it feels…I do know it hurts and I know why you’re doing this but…I can’t lose you too.” She whispered, vision getting blurry as a lump grew in her throat. “You’re my big brother, you’ve always looked after me.”

Taehyung bit down his bottom lip lowering his head in slight shame.

“Please let me look after you.” She pleaded in a whisper trying to search his expression, to see any sense of softness or thought.

Her brother sobbed a little, running his shaky fingers through his matted hair before nodding but still trying not to meet her gaze. “Okay.”

Belle let out a trembling sigh of relief, a tear escaping slowly down her cheek when she finally relaxed. “I have savings you can use to pay for the drugs you asked for.” She stated in a gentle tone this time as Taehyung stared at her, shaking his head.

“That’s your boutique money, you can’t—”

“Yes I can.” She forced a smile across her face to reassure him. “My boutique can wait. I want you to get better.”

Taehyung gulped down carefully padding over his sister before leaning his head on her shoulder at an attempt of a lazy hug. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered against the fabric of her sweater, a light whimper under his breath. “Thank you.”

The chill that spread through her body now warmed up as she wrapped her arms around her brother, feeling like the younger sister if only for a second. “Who do we have to pay?” Belle asked sniffling a little.

“My debts’ too high…” Taehyungs’ grip tightened around the girl. “…the guy who gave me the drugs tells me I need to go straight to the boss for questioning if I come back again.”

Oh god, Taehyung…what did you get yourself into?

-

Much to Taehyungs’ discontent, Belle insisted on coming with him with the envelope of the payment in her hand. She figured cash would be more believable instead of bank transferring especially since there was so much money piled up for just debt. Her older brother looked at her a little surprised at how well she knew how to maneuver these things. “Being in the fashion industry doesn’t just mean I draw and sew clothes, you know.” She replied simply as she drove the both of them to the address Taehyungs’ guy told him to go.

During the trip she wanted to mention how sneaky it was to just give them the address and not come along. But then again…this wasn’t exactly an ethical business to begin with.

Of course it wasn’t difficult in the slightest to find the Jeon household considering it was on the outskirts of the city. A large sandstone colored mansion with vines growing off of the sides and golden detail on the windows and pillars. They drove in front of the closed entrance where Taehyung told them his name and that he was being expected which thankfully caused the large gate to slide open with a painful screech sound.

Heart pounded so hard it could have ripped out of her ribcages, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and her palms a little sweaty. The guards lined up in front of the door with their suits and shades making her homemade white floral dress look like peasants work. Even from here she could recognize that those uniforms were not made from some random ordinary designer. Even though the design itself was quite ordinary.

Taehyung walked out of the car first before Belle followed suit.

As soon as she walked out, one of the guards held his hand out.

“Ma’am, the boss requests that you give away your car in the duration of the meeting.” He spoke in a robotic tone.

Belle wasn’t even sure if he was looking at her directly since the shades were so dark but she gave him her car keys anyway. The feeling of emptiness eerily seeping through her already nerve-wracked body. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how Taehyung must be feeling around all of this.

They were led into the mansion by three guards. The entrance was really just a big hall that stretched across the whole expanse of the building. When they passed a large open archway then Belle could see the furnished details; a few couches circled around in the middle of the large space with the fireplace behind the sitting, a bar on the far right with some maids tending to the dust while there were stairs on the left leading to the upper level.

Why would they want meet them personally for a few hundred dollars? It looked like a small loss looking at the quality of this whole building down to the outfits their guards were wearing.

Maybe it was more greed than the amount of the money.

“Please be seated. Master Jeon will speak to you shortly.” The same guard declared before moving back to his post and standing there like a statue.

Taehyung and Belle sat at the couch that faced the fireplace. Thankfully the maids were kind enough to turn it on since she hadn’t realized how cool it was going to be in the house. They offered them tea which they both turned down. An empty stomach meant less likely for her to throw up from the anxiousness. Taehyung, on the other hand, lost interest for food altogether barely eating anything but crumbs.

She noticed the hollowness of his cheeks and the darkness under his eyes. How long had it been since she saw a smile stretching across his lips? Taehyung used to be filled with light and passion beyond anything Belle had ever seen. He was the reason she pushed herself to pursue her own dreams despite the side-eyes from their parents. He defended her passion. He protected from unfair treatment always giving her shine he thought she deserved.

Now Belle had to repay the favor. She needed to encourage her brother to restart his path back to one that made him happy instead of one that slowly destroyed him to the core.

Footsteps brought her back out from her thoughts, eyes trailing over to the stairs. A tall built figure dressed in an all-white suit with a button-up shirt to match, loosely done up so his gold necklace could glimmer in the light. Belle noticed the gold cufflinks shimmering from his wrists. Hair styled somewhat neatly with a side part and strands hovering his eye when he moved, lips a rosy hue and his face looked for younger than she expected.

When people said ‘drug lord’ she imagined a stumpy old creep with similar attire except traditionally unkempt with facial hair and untrimmed chest hair that hung over their shirts.

Despite his pleasant appearance, Belle was not going to be blinded to the fact that this man thrived off of her brothers’ suffering.

The man finally met her gaze after only glancing a little at Taehyung before sitting down on the couch in front of them. Legs spread apart ever so slightly, he leaned back with one of his arms extended out. “Mr. Kim.” He spoke in a soft tone, eyes going back to her older brother now. “Do you recognize who I am?” He searched his expression.

Taehyung kept his head lowered but nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Who am I?” He pressed on like a father calmly scolding his child.

“M-Master Jeon Jungkook…” He muttered helplessly almost glancing up to meet his gaze but quickly looking down once again.

“So you do know…” Jungkook nodded, pressing his lips together. “Here I was thinking you consider me a joke. Taking bags and bags of my products while assuming I won’t try to track you down. Is that you what you thought of me?” His tone grew firmer.

Unlike Taehyung, Belle kept her head up, maintaining her gaze on the stranger. It seemed like Jungkook had a good eye for noticing when he flickered over to look at her instead.

“No, sir.” Taehyung shook his head frantically. “I-I just n-needed to get my money together.” He explained in a shaky voice not noticing that his precious ‘sir’ was staring at Belle a lot longer than she was comfortable.

Maybe he was waiting for her to duck her head down like her older brother.

The urge to do so was stronger than ever but Belle persisted. Until Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung again.

Her brothers’ fingers trembled violently at this point. Belle itched to comfort him somehow but she wanted him to try and face on his own to some extent. Coming here and sitting next to him was already being far too lenient but she couldn’t let him do this completely alone. Not when the healing process was so fresh and people like Jungkook would do anything to make sure he stayed addicted.

“Where’s the money?” Jungkook gestured towards him.

Belle took a small breath, placing the envelope on her lap onto the glass coffee table. “One of your men said he owed seven hundred.” She spoke up now trying to keep her voice as steady as possible even though her heart was beating out of control. “The envelope has eight just in case he wasn’t accurate.” A chilly feeling brushed over her body when her savings just sat there on the coffee table. Nothing but petty money for Jungkook but to her, it was the only way she could afford the vacant building in the city for her boutique.

“And you are?”

“His sister.” She muttered, glancing over at Taehyung who let out a deep sigh.

Jungkook stared down at the thick envelope for a few minutes with a raised brow. “Jongho…” He curled his fingers in towards a guard who quickly rushed over to stand beside him. “Please escort Mr. Kim to the second living room for a moment. I’d like to have a word with Ms…”

“Belle.”

“Belle…” The corner of his lip curled up before he gestured again towards the man called Jongho and he immediately led Taehyung away from them.

Belles’ heart raced seeing his helpless face looking back at her not sure if he was trying to apologize or if he was terrified of why they were being separated. “Why’re you taking him away?” She asked, being as polite as possible but her tightening fists told a different story.

“I’m not going to hurt him.” Jungkook murmured. He leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees, eyes searching her expression closely. “I thought it’d be better if I had a private conversation with a more steady minded person rather than your brother.” He nodded behind her.

Her brows furrowed glancing down at the closed envelope before staring up at him. “We got you the money, why do we need to have a conversation?” Belle’s voice was low just enough for only Jungkook to hear and no one else. Not that she could raise her voice even if she tried from how closed up her throat was.

“Because I’m honorable to an extent but I also hate people taking advantage of my kindness.” Jungkook shrugged lightly. “Your brother had been freely given all the products he consumed and he waited three months to give me my payment.” He let his sentence linger in the air to add more effect. “Three months of losing product and receiving no profit in return is not a risk I like making, Belle. Nor do I want to make it again.”

“So…what’re you saying?” Belle thought of the worst possible scenarios. Would they take Taehyung away and punish him? Or kill him? Was he being punished right now and Jungkook was just lying to prevent a scene? She watched his soft eyes trail up and down her form trying to be subtle but Belle caught it immediately feeling the urge to hide away into the couch.

“I’m saying the deal’s changed.” Jungkook declared in the most casual way like you would cancel a simple outing to the mall. “Look I can get money anytime I want to…you know that, don’t you?” He tilted his head a little searching her features. “I asked for this personal meeting on the basis of principle. Taehyung and many people like him need to understand that we stand by codes just as much as anyone. I’m not a money pig that just drools and accepts cash when it’s given to me.” He raised a brow.

Belle winced lightly, shaking her head. “Then why are we here? What do you want?”

Jungkook did nothing for a minute and gave her a soft smile. “Something he can take a little more seriously than cash…well—someone.”

Blood drained from her body from her aching head to her toes. Belle pierced into his smug gaze hoping…praying that he didn’t meant what she thought. The last thing she ever looked to be afraid of but now became the ultimate bane of her visit.

A visit thought to be quick and sweet with cash exchanged. How could she be surprised? These people wanted so much but still asked for more. What more could she expect from the man that took just to have the power to take some more? “Taehyung’s a good man.” She whispered. “He won’t do this again.”

“That’s what a lot of people tell me for years about their relatives or friends, Belle.” Jungkook murmured under his breath keeping the conversation to themselves despite the maids and guards standing around. “My grandfather heard it…my father heard it…every single time those people come back begging for more and then we get blamed for the dead bodies.” He sighed in slight defeat but she didn’t buy it in the slightest.

There was nothing noble about this request. If he were any other man gaining the audacity to say something like this, he would expect a hard punch on his nose. Except now it wasn’t just her own safety in question. Nor was Jungkook any ordinary man who could be taken by police or a punch looking at his build. “What am I supposed to do?” Belle murmured, heat flushing in her body making her more exasperated than grateful at the running fireplace.

Once again, a smile stretched across Jungkooks’ rosy lips. If it were taken out of context you’d think he was some sweet boy admiring something. But the reality was far from that lie. “You’re not going to be my prisoner, if that’s what you’re asking.” He smiled a little wider, eyes glimmering. “I’m not that evil.”

Debatable.

“You’re a lot more intelligent than you let on.”

“You just met me.”

“But I meet a lot of people…a little too many. So I tend to rely on first impressions and hope I’m right.” Jungkook shrugged.

“And if you’re wrong?”

He chuckled under his breath gesturing over to his guards. “They’re not there for decoration…and I don’t always negotiate like this. I’m just having a good day.” She saw his expression grow dark but the smile still remained making him look utterly sinister.

Visions of Taehyung tied to a chair, sobbing flashed across her mind making her mentally slap herself back to reality. She couldn’t look weak in front of him of all people. That’s what he wanted…for people to cower in front of him as he spewed his threats around to get everything he asked for. But denying him completely and storming out wouldn’t exactly be the smartest decision either considering she didn’t actually know where her brother was. The mansion was still mystery to her and Jungkook could easily hurt any of them as he so subtly stated with that stupid, fucking smile.

“So…what do you say, Belle? Do we have an accord?”

-

Taehyung was led back into the main living room, slightly yanking off of Jongho’ grasp and giving him a glare when he walked away. He looked over at Belle, her back facing him standing in front of Jungkook. “Belle?”

Belle looked over her shoulder and gave him a smile as she walked closer. She let out a sigh of relief seeing no sign of injury on the older male.

“Did he do something to you?” After the longest time, Taehyung sounded like an older brother again looking after Belle whenever she looked the slightest bit distressed. “What did he say?” He whispered.

She stayed silent, gaze lowered to look at his T-shirt before flickering up to force a smile at him. “It’s going to be okay.” Belle murmured. “He even offered to pay for your rehabilitation and get you back on your feet.”

Brows furrowed now gaining the urge to glance over at Jungkook but he couldn’t seem to stop searching his sisters’ expression. “Why would he want to pay for—”

“I told him to.” Belle gulped, smile fading away into a small frown.

“Belle, we can’t pay him back for all of that.” Taehyung held onto her bare arms feeling the cold skin underneath his.

She nodded. “Yes we can. He’s only asking for one thing.”

“…What?” He whispered.

Belle bit down her bottom lip, chin quivering a little before she smiled again even though her eyes grew glossy. “He wants me.”

Taehyungs’ heart plummeted making his whole body feel heavy. “No…” He shook his head, grip tightening around her arms as if she was going to disappear if he let go. “He can’t do that.”

“I agreed.”

“Belle!” It was more a loud whisper than anything but it managed to turn a few heads. “He’s going t—”

“I know what he’s going to do.” Belle rubbed his chest soothingly. “But this is the only way I can help you.”

“You have the money, why won’t he take it?” He gestured towards the envelope on the coffee table which now looked long forgotten.

Belle lowered her gaze. “Because he thinks you’ll just do it all again. He doesn’t trust you.”

“And you trust him?” Taehyung retorted causing heat to bubble up inside Belle.

“I trust you to do your part in this promise.” She tightened her jaw, wincing as the lump in her throat grew painful. “Unless you have a better idea to escape a pissed off drug lord then you will do this.” Tears flooded at her eyes threatening to escape but her gaze persisted on him. “Please promise me you’ll try to get better from now on.” Her lips quivered. “I didn’t know how else to help you. But now you need to help me. You need to heal and get back on your feet.”

Taehyung brushed against his fingers through the hair rested on her shoulder. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Belle shook her head as an attempt to reassure him but he didn’t look at all convinced. “I’ll be fine.” She smiled faintly, a few tears escaping down her cheeks which he wiped off gently.

“I’m so sorry…” He whimpered, fingers curling around her hair. “This is all my fault, I should’ve just come here on my own.”

“He would’ve killed you.”

“But you’d be happy.”

Belle chuckled sadly. “You really think I’d be happy if I lost you?”

“But you wouldn’t be here.” Taehyung side glanced over at the guards who looked completely unfazed by the whole ordeal while Jungkook had his back turned to them, gazing out into the garden outside.

“Everything’s going to be fine.” Belle wasn’t sure if that was directed at her brother or herself. Was this meant to be her big fork in the road? The path she was supposed to determine her whole life. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was amount to only one thing… but she’d be caught dead before she cowered begging before people like Jungkook. If he wanted her then he could have her. But he’d be an idiot to think she wasn’t going to use that to her own advantage one day. “We’re allowed to see each other so you’re not losing me, okay? I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

Taehyung sighed in frustration averting his gaze, boring holes in the back of Jungkooks’ head with his glare. “I want to kill him.”

“Then we’ll never get out of here.” Belle replied simply.

Finally Taehyung succumbed to his sisters’ wishes, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead before letting go, physically deflating as he was led out of the mansion by one of the guards.

One of them, same Jongho walked over to her. “I’ll drive him back safely, Ms. Kim.” He gave her a reassuring smile before following Taehyung out of the mansion.

The double doors closed blocking out whatever light that came from it leaving her empty.

“Taehyung will call you when he gets home. So you know he’s safe.” Jungkook spoke up now in a gentle tone but Belle kept her back to him. “And your personal belongings will be moved here in a few days.”

She licked her lips before lowering her gaze, letting a few silent sobs before wiping the tears away. “Where can I freshen up?” Belle looked down at her fingers seeing the light mascara smudges, trying to wipe at the corners of his eyes to wipe any traces away.

Jungkook seemed like he gestured towards one of the maids because a kind looking woman padded over and touched her on the shoulder.

Her grey hair wrapped up in a bun and the smile lines around her face showed when she gave her a sweet grin, making her look like the only person that seemed somewhat trustworthy in this building. “Let’s go upstairs, dear.” She held onto her arms and led her towards the stairs. “I’ll get some new clothes sent up as well.”

Belle didn’t glance at Jungkook but she could feel his gaze on her when she was led up the stairs to the now shared master bedroom.

-

Similar to what a hotel suite would look like, the master bedroom adorned a modern design with an opaque black curtains drawn to keep the room cool and ambient with the warm lights. A king-sized bed with classic white sheets with some gold detail matching the aesthetic of the whole mansion itself. There was a marble partition that had a small gap on the bottom with a modern looking fireplace on to keep the room warm, situated on the immediate left when they walked in.

On the other side of the partition was a desk with a closed laptop and some files. Another open archway on the right that led to a walk-in-wardrobe with lit up shelves that accentuated all the different shoes and shirts.

Upon walking through the archway into the wardrobe, on the right, there was the private bathroom just as big as every other small area in the monster of a bedroom.

Belle was led into the bathroom by the kind maid where she saw a shower that could have been the size of her laundry room, a sink just in front of it with a bathtub on the far end. The white bathtub contrasted against the grey marble floor with a large window that showed a forest-like view.

“It’s an illusion.” The maid explained as if to reassure her that her baths were not going to be displayed out into the world. “The Master asked for a glass case that held shrubs but the foggy forest is an intricate painting by one of the familys’ personal artists. He likes the feeling of being disconnected from the modern world when he’s relaxing.”

Normally the design would impress her greatly. The idea of having the illusion of a calm forest without the hassle of actually moving to one was genius and the greyish light gave the bathroom a relaxing morning feel. Right now however it made her feel more trapped than ever. Even the view outside was just an illusion in her new cage. Nothing felt solid and real at this point like Belle was a ghost floating around in a dream that never seemed to end.

“Your towels are over on the stand there, dear. I’ll have robes and a change of clothes brought to you outside soon.” The maid smiled patting her lightly on her arm. “Don’t fret too much, darling. I don’t think the master has any intention of hurting you.”

“It’s not him hurting me that’s making me nervous.” Belle smiled sadly, grateful that the woman even cared to reassure her somehow.

“Ah…” The maid smiled and nodded knowingly. “I’ll get you some of my special tea…it calmed me down on my wedding night.”

Belle’s heart sank seeing the woman smile at her a little sadly too. “Is the secret ingredient whiskey?” She tried to lighten the mood which successfully made the woman chuckle. Somehow seeing the way the woman helped her in her own way reminded her of why she was in this glass case in the first place. She remembered Taehyung smiling again, throwing away all the things that tarnished all the peace in his heart and being free. She needed to be strong.

“Not really but…I’ll see what I can do.” She whispered the last bit with a cheeky smile before turning on her heel to leave Belle in a few moments of solitary freedom at the very least.

-

It may have been dark by now.

At least when Belle peeked the slightest outside the curtained window, the sun had been dipping into the hills to give the sky a pinkish hue. Her heart pounded at the lack of notifications from her brother. Her body felt fresher now that she had a comfortable long white nightie with a thin robe to keep her arms somewhat cozy. But skin still heated up significantly with her anxiety.

Then minutes passed before her phone buzzed and her heart released a thousand sighs of relief seeing Taehyung’s name.

“Belle?”

“Yes it’s me.” Belle whispered with a biggest grin on her face from the sheer relief. “You went home okay? They didn’t hurt you?”

“No, no they were just… fine.” Confusion trailed in Taehyung’s voice. “That guy has way too much fucking power, they just dropped me off and left saying they’ll come back to drop me off at the rehab center. Normally his men tried to rough me up whenever they saw me.”

“That’s because they knew you’re the guy that doesn’t pay.” Belle cringed mentally hearing herself defend their actions but…she was a little too good at considering perspectives, she guessed.

“I guess…also I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you if you’re okay.” Taehyung corrected but Belle let his words linger in the air for a moment.

Sitting in the luxury bedroom wearing a clearly quality robe with people working at her beck and call, in a first glance people would call her lucky. Digging deeper into the surface and seeing that Belle was manipulated into being in his position then people would call Jungkook a monster.

Was it only one of them? Was it both? Was it neither? Was this just a game that Belle had no choice but to play for a time until her brother got better? How far did Jungkook even think this through? Why was he so interested in manipulating Taehyung the most? Did he do this to every sister, brother or parent that came around? Did they even come this far?

“Belle, you still there?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay. I’m just sitting.” She quickly explained.

The thoughts crowded in her head making it ache but thankfully the maid—her name she found out was Nana—gave her a piping hot cup of tea apparently laced with some herbs that helped calm anxiety and nerves. It was an ancient herb given to young girls so they could go through their wedding night without having an anxiety attack or breaking down. Blowing away some of the steam, Belle took a few sips ignoring the bitter taste on her tongue.

“I don’t know what he wants yet but I think I have an idea.” Belle spoke solemnly.

“You really don’t have to do this, Belle.” Taehyung whispered desperately.

“We don’t have any other choice.”

“You could just come back home and I’ll just handle it.”

“You had three months to handle it.” Her voice grew firm quicker than she even expected but she kept her head cool. Silence ran on the other end of the line making Belle sigh to calm herself down. “We just need to keep our heads. We’ll be fine.” She didn’t mean to make her tone sound so dreary but this wasn’t exactly the cheeriest of moments in her life. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the fabric of her soft nightie trying to empty her mind for a little while. “I need to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay…Belle…”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you. Be safe.”

The lump in her throat grew again suffocating her when she forcefully swallowed it down. “I love you too.” Belle whispered before hanging up. Taking longer sips from her tea now, it took a few seconds for her feel her limbs loosen like ice melting near a fireplace. Her body cooled down from her heated anxiety to a comfortable warmth she could melt into without the worries of the troubles around her.

For a moment, she could close her eyes and relish in the new found relief wanting to silently thank Nana for providing her this cup of momentary tranquility.

The door opened with the familiar white-suited man walking in giving her a glance as he shrugged his blazer off. “Nana got you some clothes…good.” Jungkook muttered, walking into the walk-in wardrobe and placing his blazer back before taking off his cufflinks when he walked back in the bedroom. “Is it comfortable?”

“Yes.” Belle replied, brushing her palms across the smooth sleeves of the robe. She never worked with satin a lot but whenever she felt it under her skin it gave her the tingle of pure luxury. “I just spoke to Taehyung…he came home safe.”

“I told you he would.” Jungkook murmured, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulder before placing into a hamper for the maids to take care of.

Belle noticed the stencil like silhouette of a phoenix etched into the right side of his chest as he walked over to his side of the bed. “You kept to your word. Thank you.” Not that you deserve it but…common courtesy.

She caught a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips while he unbuckled his belt and threw it on the floor.

“Do I sense a little bitterness, Ms. Kim?” Jungkook mused.

“Why? You don’t like a little bitter taste on your tongue?” Snakes must get used to it by now, she thought.

“I know you’re not a fan of me.” He stated the fucking obvious. “But you could say no anytime. I’ll just deal with your brother without bothering you again.”

Belle tightened her jaw, gripping onto the fabric of her nightie averting her gaze forcing a long silence to plunge into the room.

Jungkook finally sighed. “I didn’t mean that.” He muttered but Belle was mostly trying to focus back on the relaxation the tea gave her again. “Our accord is as solid any other contract so I’m not allowed to touch your brother…while you’re still with me anyway.”

“Is this how you get all your girls?”

He chuckled walking over and standing in front of Belle, forcing her to look up at him. “Would you be pleased if I said no?” Jungkook placed an index finger under her chin while his thumb hovered for a moment over her lips.

“Only if it’s the truth.” Belle replied simply, her knees melting into the surface of the bed.

Jungkook smirked moving his hands into her hair. “I don’t invite just anyone in my bed, no. But you’re not just anyone.”

“Why do you think that?” She asked as he slowly leaned in closer, fingers sliding down the crook of her neck letting the sleeves of her robe and nightie slip down with a mere touch.

“Because you were the only one brave enough to come this far.” He whispered pushing down the other side of her sleeves to leave her shoulders exposed. “Girls love the bad boys but never seem to understand what they’re asking for.” Cold fingers brushed against her collarbones, across her chest up her neck until he finally caressed her bottom lip with his index finger.

They want a fairytale. Beauty and the Beast. But eventually they find out that the Beast was never a prince in the first place. They realize that a mere kiss won’t break the curse.

“You know exactly what you’re asking for… don’t you?” Jungkook asked in a tone of a warm coo.

I’m not asking for this, Belle bit her tongue. But I do know what I’m getting myself into. What you gave me no choice but to get into. She stared at him determined to keep his gaze no matter how much she wanted to close her eyes. He wasn’t going to overpower her, not in that way. I received a beast instead of a prince…but you’re not getting any vulnerable fucking princess either. Keeping her eyes on his, she parted her lips and took his finger into her mouth barely waiting for Jungkook to make any move before she began suckling on it.

“Of course you do.” The mere action was enough of an answer for the male as his smirk grew darker. Jungkook took his finger away pushing down her nightie and robe further down until her breasts were displayed to him.

Belle was grateful for the warmth from the fireplace spreading through the room at his point. But in mere seconds Jungkook used his glistening finger to brush across her nipple causing it to stand erect almost instantly. A light gasp caught in her throat as she pressed her palms on the surface of the bed making her chest push out a little. When she threw her head back a little, he quickly took the opportunity to devour her lips, tongue pushing against her teeth which she kept clamp shut.

Long enough for him to get impatient and bite down her bottom lip a little. Then she allowed him to push through and explore her mouth. Jungkook knelt down but kept their lips locked as he sneaked his hands under her nightie, pushing the soft fabric, nails grazing against her skin causing a tingle down her spine.

Belle lifted a little to let him push the dress further up until he completely pulled both pieces of clothing off over her head. Before she could even comprehend her exposure, he picked her up a little and shifted so she could rest her head on the silk pillows. Her heart raced against her ribcages but she stopped being sure of why at this point, instead she thought about the herbs Nana gave her. Maybe thinking about how it can help would psychologically increase its effects? Stupid but maybe.

When she looked down at the male out of curiosity, she saw him discard his pants and boxers before climbing back onto the bed.

Belle kept her legs closed loosely before he pushed them apart, hands gliding down her inner thighs to her panties. His thumb pressed against the clothing right against her hiding nub making her jerk her hips a little at the suddenly awakened nerves.

He didn’t waste any time to hook the hem of her panties and strip it off her before dipping down in between her legs. His mouth feasted on her clit, tongue licking around her slit before sliding in teasingly slow and moving back to suckling on her bundle of nerves.

Her chest rose and fell as her eyes focused more on the ceiling, biting onto her bottom lip, light whimpers emitting from under her breath.

Jungkook released her clit with a pop sound before settling his hips between her legs. His already hardened shaft teased her slit a little more, wet sounds tickling her ears before she felt him stretch her out.

A moan finally erupted from her throat, clenching around him making him groan.

“It’s okay…” He whispered in her ear when she turned her head to the side. “Does it hurt a lot?”

Belle’s head felt like it was trying to find a straight line in a completely scribbled piece of paper. Her core ached for a moment. She felt Jungkooks’ thumb rub at her clit making her walls relax a little as she focused on the light wash of pleasure rushing across her lower body. Slowly she shook her head moving back to face him again. “No…it’s okay.” She whispered, meeting his gaze when he still wasn’t moving. Leaning up she pressed a shy kiss on his lips.

It took mere seconds before Jungkook began moving in and out of her, still slowly rubbing circles on her erect clit.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, their foreheads pressed against each other as he grinded into her slightly nudging the spot that sent sparks through her body.

His pace quickened, both hands pressed down on the surface of the bed as he thrusted into her in a steady pattern letting the sounds of skin slapping linger in the air.

Belles’ skull felt numb, her mind locked up all her thoughts and allowed her body to succumb to his consistent pounding. Head threw back against the pillow as he chased his own orgasm, her own juices spluttering onto his lower belly. She hummed lightly under her breath which seemed to encourage Jungkook to go faster until the bed started to shift.

Jungkook lowered down a bit more, pressing wet kisses on her neck, trying to muffle his moans against her skin as his thrusts grew sloppy.

Belle felt a gentle wave of pleasure before Jungkook quickly pulled out with his release splattering all over her belly. She let out a small sigh, rubbing circles on her clit again to prolong her small climax before her bundle felt too sensitive to touch making her legs close up again. She watched the other male catch his breath still kneeling in front of her before crashing on the space beside her.

Whatever piece of physical satisfaction swirled around her body melted quickly into her chest clenching painfully. It didn’t take too long for her to notice all too clearly what spilt on her skin but Jungkook had already pulled out a wash cloth and wiped her clean. The traces still burrowed in her mind now.

Jungkook threw the wash cloth away before resting back on the bed again, shutting his eyes for a moment. Both of them catching their breaths and finally dwindling back to their fucked up reality.

“I can’t break this deal.” He murmured looking up at ceiling similar to her. “If I do, I’ll have to kill your brother.”

Belle swallowed the lump in her throat, a small tear spilling from the corner of her eye. “Am I supposed to be your sex toy until you’re done with me?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not allowed to have…sex toys.” Jungkook sighed. “There’s another reason why I changed the deal.”

She finally turned her head to face him, brows furrowing. “What did you not tell me?”

The male took a deep breath before meeting her gaze. “My uncle and aunt have been forcing me to get married to someone of their choice. It’s gotten so pressing to a point where they’ve paid them to seduce me so it doesn’t look arranged.” Jungkook explained, running his fingers through his hair before resting on his head on his arm. “My rejections have stopped working. So I thought I should get a courtship with someone I choose before I’ll have to succumb to my uncle and aunts’ wishes.”

Belle could practically hear her own heart slamming out of her ears, more tears burning in her eyes. “So… you just…saw me and decided that you were going to make me your wife?”

“Did you want me to ask for your parents’ blessing or something?”

She averted her gaze back to the ceiling. “My parents are dead.”

“…I didn’t—”

“Of course you didn’t fucking know, we don’t know each other.” Belle inhaled a shaky breath before closing her eyes to calm herself down.

You are a fucking beast.

“Darling I gave you a chance to turn back.”

“So you wouldn’t hurt my brother.”

“Your brother was already dead if he kept going the way he did.” Jungkook winced a little before sighing in frustration. “I told you I’m not trying to be evil. A lot of people look at me when they want to see power. The world I live in chews up people who are too merciful.”

“My brother is innocent.” Belle sobbed lightly, forcefully biting down her bottom lip.

“He’s vulnerable to what I offer. Did you really think he was going to stop taking drugs just because he paid the money?” Jungkooks’ question lingered in the air for a while. “Correction: just because you paid the money.”

“So you want me to be your wife…” She swallowed thickly. “…or you’ll kill my brother.”

“When you say it that way, I do sound evil.” Jungkook pondered. “But yes. Everything else in the deal still stays the same. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Except leave you.” Belle corrected.

“Except leave me.” Jungkook confirmed in the most casual fucking tone ever.

Belle did nothing but stay silent and turn to her side, back facing him making the male sigh in slight defeat. She felt his hand on her shoulder squeezing slightly as if it was going to give her any kind of comfort.

“A lot of marriages can be worse than this, you know.” He squeezed it again. “You’re going to have to work with me for this to run a lot smoother, yeah? You did so well today.” Jungkook pressed a gentle kiss on her shoulder. “I promise it won’t feel so bad after a while.”

She knew now. Kissing the beast didn’t break the curse.

It made one.

NEXT CHAPTER >>

[mde1011]

some quotes i jotted down from that wonderful stream of tommy‘s (some lore spoilers)

“do you smoke sam” “all the time”

“i thought you were talking about the- the speeeeed drug”

“have you ever sold drugs to kids sam?” “......no”

“shecure is a hard word how do you say it? secure? shecure?” “...secure...?”

“we can’t let the girlboss rule because she will gatekeepe my feelings” “that would not be pog”

“THEY DIDNT INVITE ME TO KILL ME???? NOW I HAVE FOMO”

“i’ll load it up king- ive started saying king a lot” “yeah yeah i’ve noticed i like it” “you are admittedly a king sam so”

“strong man” “how does TWIG rhyme with STRONG??????”

“you have obviously taken part in scientology-“ “i have not-“ “you’ve donated to tom cruises cult shit”

“....am i worse than david dobrik?” “are- are we worse than david dobrik?” “oh- oh god”

“cAPTAIN PUFFY IS YOUR LAWYER????” “she IS? I HAVE A LAWYER THATS NOT BIG Q OR BIG LAW?”

“DONT TELLL RANBOO IM UPSET IM NOT UPSET IM FINE IM FINE”

“............howd the talk with the lawyer go.....sounded like it went pretty well” “sam. samuel” “oh god what’s happening you called me samuel”

“gotta go get some la-piss”

“come and hang out i am live it will be nice come and hang out kings” “o-oh you just pinged the WHOLE discord wow-“ “maybe vikkstar will come”

“doNT SAY YOURE LOVING THIS CHAT I AM IN PERIL”

“he has broke one of the rules of the hit best seller ‘the bible’- this kind of looks like a cock”

“well i’ve moved now, KING”

“what is an angsty teen and am i one? because when i USED to hang out with tubbo and ranboo they used the word angst a lot”

“yeah yeah yeah i bench”

“sam i think i’m angsty i think i’m an angsty tik tok teen looking for a community to help me out”

“i don’t think you’ve followed the train of logic all the way-“ “there’s a TRAIN INVOLVED????????”

“i’m like the orange fucker from that animated rom com”

“THIS IS WHO I NEEDED RIGHT NOW IM IN PERIL I AM ANGRY- oh wait that’s wrong that’s wrong-“ “angry is different from angsty”

“i need a lawyer and they need to be big and strong and angry and ready to fight”

“what’s wrong with killing somebody?” “.........HEY nononononono don’t think i forget when you locked me in there you- you PSYCO FREAK” “you should talk to your lawyer about that”

📷

“i can read minds” “what am i th-“ “tits” “what”

“shUT UP PUSSY”

“you just- you just do NOT have blue balls”

“you think this guy will win?” “SHUT THE FUCK UP” “I LIKE THIS GUY”

“STOP STARING AT MY TIE YOU ARE OBJECTIFYING ME” “I DONT MEAN TO-“ “U ARE-“ “ITS A WONDERFUL TIE-“

“i can’t look away it’s just so-“

“i’m under the influence of big cock”

“it’s meeee big cock man”

“i cant look away” “sam please use your twitter alt for this” “he’s horny on maaaainnnnn” “and what’s wrong with that?” “.......”

“you’re a FUCKING IDIOT” “IM NOT A FUCKING IDIOT, BIG COCK”

“i’m gonna call you ‘cockity’ big cock” “sHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT THE FUCK UP-“

“STOP LOOKING AT IT” “ITS SO VIBRANT”

“at least this guy doesn’t have a cock-“ “itS NOT A COCK” “horny on main jesus-“

“is that a cock” “SHUT THE FUCK UP”

“.....i wanna see the inside of it again do a split”

“i heard....i heard there is a big cock in town....”

“why did you say that to me jesus” “did you just come for the cock?”

“nOOOO JESUS JESUS GO AWA-“

“okay sam-“ “tommy that guy wants your cock-“ “no- no he doesn’t sam”

“i- i just looked to my right and the entire chat is just ‘E E E E E I’”

“sam, sam and i need you to hear this....dont. act. up.” “i don’t act up-“ “you were acting up-“ “i-“ “you were caught in 8k.” “but- but we both agree it’s not a tie-“

“please don’t tell me to kill cockity i am overwhelmed”

“why is there an anus in my tie?”

“what are the legal implications of this?” “...i mean besides hell you’re good”

“jack mana-bitch”

“whatre the legal implications?” “i mean usually that’s a no-no but today, today it’s fine” “yeahhh lets go murder his family”

<Foolish_Gamers was blown up by awesamdude> “hahahahgahah” “wHY ARE YOU DEAD??? WHY IS OUR LAWYER DEAD” “that- killing jesus is a big no-no”

“jesus is back ayyyy” “three whole days ayyy he’s back from the cave” “that was three whole minutes” “he speedran it” “why didn’t he do that in the bestseller?” “are you referring to the best seller called ‘the bible’?”

“i’d be an antivax landlord”

“i’m real like are-kansas” “that’s not REAL” “it IS”

“you’re projecting your own problems onto me, puss” “wHAT THE FUCK”

“i just don’t want you to girlboss me”

“i am the girlboss and i will gatekeep” “you are a girlboss”

“we will join vc two and then we’re gonna gatekeep them and the we’re gonna gaslight them”

“that’s such a funny joke man-“ “it’s not a joke. dollywood is real”

“does anyone have cocaine?” “ooooh i remember when you did cocaine last night awesamdude”

“jesus never does drugs” “well- well you turned water into wine king and wine is alcohol”

“can you put on pants i can’t- i cant stop looking at it- sorry tommy i know you said-“ “yeah sam i know you tried-“

“you know i fuck with satan”

“i’m sorry jesus lucifer is just such a good man-“ “oh you- hold me BACK FROM THIS FUCKER HOLD ME BACK ILL SEND HIM TO HELL YOU LIKE HELL-“

“are you jesus or just a man who grew a beard and put on a suit?”

“even the guy with his cock out is telling you to stop-“ “oh jesus, and i mean jesus-“ “shUT THE FUCK UP MAN”

“the best best way to slander him is to stop his offspring; we need to kick him the balls.....no? not a good....? alright us four each take a ball-“

“......jack manifold has four balls?”

“......why did jesus give him four scrotums man🙁🙁”

<Quackity fell from a high place>

<awesamdude> BIG COCK DOWN

[charincharge]

AN: Here’s the fourth and final installment of the Actress AU. It was ready much sooner than I anticipated! If you haven’t read the first three parts, you can find them below. I hope this is a satisfying conclusion for you all! xo.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Aelin squinted against a harsh white light, making her head throb. She went to rub the mascara from her sticky lashes, but her hand tugged painfully. She struggled to focus, her brain slowly catching up with her vision as she took in her stark surroundings.

Her breathing increased as she realized where she was.

She tugged her hand again, wincing as the tube under her skin pulled at the tape covering it. Another tube ran into two smaller ones, inserted into her nose, pushing a steady stream of cold air down her throat.

Despite the tubes in her nose, the overwhelming smell of lemon antiseptic pervaded her senses, and she struggled to swallow down the pool of saliva that formed in her mouth as nausea swirled around her stomach.

It clenched hard, and before she knew what was happening, she was on her side, a thin yellow stream of bile pouring from her mouth into a light pink tub placed in front of her face seemingly out of nowhere. It splashed gently, and Aelin recoiled from the smell, her body sweating and shaking with the effort it took to expel the disgusting substance.

“That’s it,” a woman’s soft voice cooed, rubbing at her back. “You’re okay, darling,” it repeated. Despite being unable to see who was touching her, Aelin relaxed into the woman’s hand as she finished throwing up.

She wiped at her mouth, wanting to get rid of the sour taste in her mouth and graciously accepted a small paper cup of water from another mystery person.

Aelin wiped at her eyes again and rolled onto her back into the lumpy pillow behind her head and finally looked around. The hospital room’s curtains had been drawn, letting early morning sunshine filter in, but it was no match for the harsh fluorescents which shone down on Aelin, making her sweat. Two nurses bustled around her, their light green scrubs swishing as they switched out her IV bag and adjusted the oxygen tank beside her.

“You gave everyone quite a scare, sweetheart” the dark-haired nurse said, smoothing Aelin’s hair away from her face. It crunched beneath her touch, still coated in layers of hairspray.

“What happened?” Aelin croaked. The last thing she remembered was being at the premiere party. But judging by the amount of sunlight streaming through the windows, that was hours ago.

“I’m going to grab the doctor, and she’ll explain everything,” the woman said, her even voice attempting to calm Aelin’s racing heart.

Her head pounded agonizingly as she attempted to nod, and the nurse frowned in understanding.

She shushed Aelin, who hadn’t even realized she’d started crying softly as she readjusted her pillows behind her, trying to make her more comfortable. But it was impossible. Every part of Aelin ached with discomfort.

A beautiful woman with long chestnut curls and caramel skin swept into the room, her dark eyes immediately going to Aelin as she introduced herself.

“Aelin,” she said with a professional nod. “I’m Doctor Towers, and I’ve been treating you since you came in last night.” She paused, taking a step closer. “Do you remember what happened?”

Aelin winced as she shook her head again.

“That’s okay,” Dr. Towers assured her. “You had an accidental overdose.” Aelin’s mouth gaped, opened and closing as she struggled to find the words, but the doctor continued. “You came in with cocaine and fentanyl in your system, which is unfortunately something I’ve been seeing more and more of.”

“Fentanyl?” Aelin asked, confused. She had no idea what that even was, and she certainly had no knowledge of taking it.

Dr. Towers narrowed her eyes. “You are extremely lucky to be alive right now. When your friend brought you in, you were completely nonresponsive.”

Aelin gasped. Fear and shame crashed down on her. She was sure this would be all over the gossip sites. She’d be written off as a party girl, instead of a serious budding actress. Everything she’d endured with Arobynn would be for nothing. Another tear fell down her cheek as the doctor explained her treatment.

“We administered Narcan, which is used to treat opioid overdose and were able to get you breathing again.”

“Opioid?”

The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I’m going to assume you don’t know that your cocaine was cut with fentanyl. It’s been used more frequently as filler, but, as you experienced, it can have potentially fatal interactions.” She paused again. “As I said, you were extremely lucky.” Her face softened as Aelin wiped another tear away. “How are you feeling, physically?”

“Bad,” Aelin chuckled through her tears.

“I’ll bet.” Doctor Towers sighed and adjusted her clipboard. “You’re going to experience a lot of pain today. Your body is going through opioid withdrawal now, as well as cocaine. Plus, Narcan has a few side effects as well – stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, fever, body aches. All sound about right?” Aelin nodded. “We’re going to keep you here to monitor your recovery for the next twelve hours. If you feel shortness of breath or like someone is suddenly sitting on your chest, call for a nurse immediately.”

“Okay,” Aelin said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Because of the events that led you here, you’re required to talk to a psychiatrist. She’s fantastic. Her name is Dr. Ytger, and she can help you decide what your next course of action should be.” Dr. Towers smiled, her seriousness dissolving slightly as her eyes warmed with kindness. “In the meantime, there are quite a few worried people, who have been waiting for you to wake up. If you feel up to it, they can come see you one-by-one.”

Aelin’s chest pounded uncomfortably. “There are people here?”

Dr. Towers’ smile widened as she nodded. “The man who brought you in has asked that he be first to see you.”

“Man?” Aelin rasped. She’d been so sure Manon would have been the one to take her to the hospital, hopefully fielding press the whole time.

Her breath caught as Dr. Towers’s eyes narrowed. “Tall, striking eyes. Pacing a hole in the waiting room carpet?”

Her breath picked up, and she struggled to calm herself as Arobynn’s faux-worried face appeared in her minds eye. She could only imagine how mad he was if he was forced to leave his own premiere party in an ambulance. Just the thought of his angry face was enough to have her feeling nauseous again. She was sure he was only here to protect his image. Heaven forbid his muse died.

“Do you not want to see him?” the doctor asked. “Aelin, if you’re in danger you can tell me. I can have the police here, and I will happily kick that green-eyed man to the curb.”

“Green?” Aelin’s head swirled. “Rowan brought me in? Not a man with red hair?”

The doctor shook her head. “No. No red-headed man.”

As relief flooded her body, she must have nodded because before she knew it, the doctor was exiting her room and returning with Rowan in tow.

Despite the pain that surged through her body, Aelin’s chest warmed at the sight of him. His tux was rumpled beyond belief, his sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and dark purple circles on his skin contrasted with his red-rimmed eyes. He must have been here all night.

He perched himself at the edge of the hospital bed, careful to not brush against Aelin beneath the thin blue blanket, and the night came rushing back to her. The carpet, Rowan’s girlfriend, cocaine in the closet with Archer… She felt awful. She’d absolutely ruined Rowan’s night.

“I’m so glad to see those eyes open again,” he whispered, and Aelin could feel a soft pressure build at her throat. For a second, she was concerned it was the shortness of breath she was supposed to be looking out for, but as she took a deep breath, she couldn’t control the sob that escaped her lips.

Tears poured from her eyes, dripping in steady rivulets down her cheeks, down her chin and dripping onto her hospital gown in dark grey splotches as they mixed with her makeup.

Rowan tentatively raised his hand to her face and wiped at her tears, his thumb caressing her cheek with such a softness that it did nothing to abate her crying. Gods, she had missed his touch. She leaned her head into his hand and sighed, her breath shaking with her tears as they stared at each other in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin whispered finally. She had to apologize to him for ruining his night. For bringing him here, for making him stay in the hospital for hours when he should have been celebrating his feature success.

His green eyes hardened as he spoke, though the soft caress of his thumb never ceased. “None of this is your fault, Aelin. None.”

“But, I ruined your big night, and…”

Rowan paused as he leaned forward, his lips pursing as he examined her face. “Baby,” he said so reverently that it nearly knocked her out. “You almost died, and you think I care about some fucking party?”

His fingers slid to her hair, crunching beneath his touch as Aelin tried not to cringe. She was a complete mess. A stupid, selfish mess. But she couldn’t imagine not wanting this, not wanting him. And she would take whatever he gave her.

“I swear I’m not an addict, I just really like the way cocaine smells.” She attempted to smile as tears formed in Rowan’s eyes.

“That is the worst joke I’ve ever heard,” he said, though he chuckled softly regardless of her inappropriate words. “And I know you’re not an addict,” he sighed. “That’s what I was trying to talk to you about last night. Why I wanted you to meet my—”

“Girlfriend?” Aelin’s heart sank as she remembered the circumstances that led to her latest brush with white dust. But Rowan’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“What? No,” he said, shaking his head. “My cousin.”

“Your cousin?” Aelin’s head was reeling. She was in too much pain and too exhausted for this kind of information. She was confused. Yet again.

“Tall? Blonde? Bright green eyes just like every Whitethorn? Walked the carpet with me?”

“Your cousin,” Aelin repeated. She tried to remember the beautiful blonde draped on Rowan’s arm, but she was nothing more than a hazy memory of blonde smiles and hurt feelings.

“She’s a reporter for The Terrasen Times,” he began. “She’s being doing a series of exposes on abusers in the film industry, and Aelin, she has enough to take Arobynn down.” He breathed in deeply, his bright eyes shining as they filled with tears. “I knew as soon as you kicked me out of your trailer that something had happened. But I didn’t get confirmation until I saw you at that press junket. You’re just the latest in a long line of young actresses emotionally abused and threatened and hooked on drugs to control them. I kept my distance because I didn’t want him to use me against you. But… I didn’t think…” His lip quivered as he fought with his tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.”

“I don’t understand,” Aelin said, her mind swimming with his words but not really processing any of them.

“Four women came forward and are pressing charges against him, Aelin. The article went live last night.” Rowan’s eyes pierced through her as she inhaled a sharp breath. “He’s going to jail. He can’t touch you anymore.”

Months of frustration and fear and anger and shame and guilt released at Rowan’s words, and a fresh wave of tears poured down Aelin’s cheeks. Her body shook, as she felt herself freed from Arobynn’s vindictive grasp. Free. She couldn’t even imagine it.

She reached forward and buried her face into Rowan’s shoulder, letting his arms cradle her and soothe her pain. She inhaled deeply, wanting to immerse herself his scent, but all she could smell was stale alcohol and faint traces of vomit. The smell made her dizzy with nausea, and she soon pulled away to vomit into the bucket next to her bed.

She wiped at her face, black smudging against her skin as she pulled her hands away. “Well, that was romantic,” she laughed, though her tone was anything but humorous.

“Aelin,” Rowan murmured her name with a quiet exuberance. “I don’t care that you’ve been throwing up for hours,” he said seriously. “I love you, have been in love with you, since the first time I laid eyes on you almost a year ago, and I need to kiss you right now.” He smiled sweetly, and as he leaned in, Aelin could feel her heart stutter. “Is this romantic enough for you?” he asked, his lips merely a breath away from hers.

“I love you, too,” she replied. Her confession warmed her from the inside out as their matching smiles met in a soft kiss. His hands stroked the back of her neck, soothing her quivering muscles.

His lips pressed against hers again, seemingly unable to pull back, but Aelin felt her exhaustion catching up with her heavily beating heart all too soon. A large yawn escaped her lips, and Rowan pulled back, his hand trailing down her arm to her tube-laden hand and squeezing it gently.

“Sleep,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She squeezed his hand in return and pulled him toward her. “Come cuddle,” she asked with wide eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Aelin,” he replied seriously. “Not ever again.”

But despite his words, he climbed into the small cot with her, arms wrapped around her shoulders. And despite the sweat and the nausea and stomach pain, Aelin fell sleep peacefully for the first time in months.

~*~

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@sailorsassley

[dimonds456]

What was “A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak” Really About?

What was Zach Callison’s A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak really about?

Hey all you people out there! How are you surviving quarantine? I had a bunch of spare time, and so I decided to write an essay that focuses on Zach Callison’s album, A Picture Perfect Hollywood Heartbreak. The album has been out for a while, but most people either only know Interlude IV or are really confused about the story it tells. I think I’ve finally got an answer, and I wanted to share it with you all.

If you’re only here to better understand Interlude IV, you can skip down there if you want, but you’ll still be pretty confused. Besides, you should listen to the rest of the album. The whole thing bops. 

Personal favorite song is Phantom Love, but I’m pretty sure no one cares about that.

Anyways, on to the show! One song at a time, in order.

WARNING: REALLY, REALLY LONG POST UNDER THE CUT!!

Phantom Love

Phantom Love sets up the whole story for us. Juanita is Zach’s old GF, who appears to only have dated him so she could get ideas for a music album she was writing. However, she had no ideas and/or is a masochist, and so wanted to get Zach to either break up with her, do something horrible to her, or just create drama in general she could write about. Whatever happens happens, and she is successful. 

Juanita seems to be suffering from some form of depression, but whether that’s actually the case or she, again, just wanted something to write about is up for debate. But either way, it’s hinted at several times that she slit her wrists and other self-harm-inducing activities. 

Many people follow her- she seems to be popular enough (which makes sense, due to the album being about two celebrities dating each other, just like Zach’s irl relationship). However, she has two different faces- her showbiz the-cameras-are-on face and her real face. Zach seems to have the same thing, as hinted at in She Don’t Know, but we’re not there yet. Point is, Juanita used Zach to try and get a tragedy out of the whole deal.

It was a phantom love- it never existed. 

“Made me promise I would never break your heart

How was I to know that’s what you wanted from the start?”

Both people got into Hollywood from a young age and grew up with it, and so were surrounded by drama constantly. This takes a toll on Zach, but he tries to deal with it whereas Juanita actively wants to partake in it. She causes drama- little triggers to get him to snap- until one day, he does.

Interlude I - Frantically

This one is pretty straight-forward. After the two break up, it’s the perfect excuse for Juanita to start spreading rumors and stirring tension. She’s quick to make Zach out to be the bad guy, when in actuality, he was the one who was being loyal in their relationship.

We’re clued in that these rumors aren’t true from one line: “I heard he got fired from that cartoon he does. (Nooo wayyy…)” We, as the audience, know for a fact he didn’t, but things get shaky as we realize that some of them are also true. 

“I heard he does coke now and, like, screams a lot.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

[laughter]

Zach overhears them talking about them and runs away, going off somewhere to be alone. Once he’s alone, we get the disturbing audio of him sniffing some drugs, implying that he actually does, indeed, do coke.

DISCLAIMER: Irl Zach Callison did NOT turn to drugs! It’s a metaphor for how many people he knows who have decided to do so, and so he;s aware of what it does to one’s mind. Don’t worry; Zach is okay in that department.

She Don't Know

After gaining the following knowledge, this song is easier to understand. Zach really did love Juanita, and he misses her, even though he knows at this point that she used and abused him. 

“There ain’t no drug in all the world like loving you

Cocaine and cigarettes will have to do

Won’t somebody save me? My heart’s beating outta m’ chest

I just wanna hold you with those hands I once possessed.”

Juanita isn’t aware of the effect she had on him, and he laments this quite strongly (hence the title). Once she had her heartbreak, she ran off, leaving a broken lover behind. 

Trigger warning: there are hints of suicidal thoughts in this song. They get more prominent as the album goes on, which becomes important later. This is where we really start seeing them, though.

“F***ed up on my bedroom floor

And my first thought’s ‘let’s do some more’

They say it all kills for thrills

And I hope it does!

Can you hear me, love?”

He speaks about “where did I go” later on, meaning that he is losing himself/doesn’t feel like himself. He still wants to be with her, and her absence has utterly destroyed him. He’s still in love with her, and wants her to know that. However, Juanita doesn’t give a bat of the eye in his direction, only caring that she now had the material she needed to write her album.

Interlude II - Christie Only Knows

Here, we are introduced to Zach’s make-believe sister, Christie. Only she is aware that he is going through this, and we find out quickly that she isn’t supportive.

“It’s getting late now, but to me, it’s just beginning

‘Cuz life’s tearing me to pieces and I know I’ve been defeated

Oh, no

And Christie only knows.

Never seen someone like this before

An eight-ball power on the floor

And I’m staring at the ceiling 

Wondering if the reaper’s close

But Christie only knows

That there ain’t no drug in all the world like being you

\Glory on the silver screen just had to do

Won’t somebody save me? I am screaming out of breath

And my shadow, he’s holding a gun…

With those hands that I once possessed…”

This is the only time I’ll put all the lyrics in here, I swear. However, this one is important as it paves the way to Nightmare, bridging the gap between the two moods. She Don’t Know is angry, stressed, unsure, and frustrated, whereas Nightmare is just… depression. Interlude II is the middle ground, showing us that once Zach got all that off his chest, he feels… numb. He doesn’t know what to do. 

Now, who exactly is Christie? I don’t think she really exists, in the context of the album, that is. I believe that Christie is someone he’s hallucinating, an embodiment of all his most negative thoughts, sugarcoated into something pretty and worth listening to. We’ll explore her character later on in Interlude IV - Showtime, but for now, what you need to know is that his suicidal thoughts are getting more and more intense now that she’s here.

A sister is someone who you’re bonded to, whether it be in blood, relationship, or cause. In this case, I think it’s more relationship. She is telling him to let go, to accept that things are this way and won’t get better. It’d be easier to end it. And Zach is listening to her. We know this because of the line “And my shadow, he’s holding a gun with those hands that I once possessed…” He is seriously thinking about it, and the fact that it’s his shadow shows that the thought is always in the back of his mind. The same thoughts that led him to love Juanita are now ready to kill him- those same, once-steady hands he used to hold her with. And he’s done. He’s holding on by a thread.

Nightmare

This song is told in the 3rd person as Zach really explains what he’s been going through each and every day that lead him to this fateful decision to end it. He is done. He’s decided it. 

Every day, he cries. He hates himself, he hates looking at himself, he hates all of it. 

“Prosecutor at his own trial, 

The floor below him becomes so fertile 

by his very own vile, Nile, and exile source 

By the pitter-patter of his tears on the bathroom tile… 

...you’re nothing more than your feelings 

from your floors to your ceilings 

and out the all-bloodshot ocular faucets… 

Boy vs brain, white noise vs the sane, 

always vs the same, cries for help exclaim 

that he’s beyond repair. He’ll swear, he’ll despair, he’ll stare 

straight ahead in the mirror at the source of his waking nightmare.”

There’s an instrumental break, during which he says “Are you writing this down, Christie? Yeah…” This shows that he’s lamenting to himself, as again, Christie doesn’t really exist. He’s venting to her, jotting down everything that’s wrong with him.

This tells me that he’s writing a note. He is telling someone where he’s going and why he did what he’s about to do. Remember, Christie is in Zach’s head, and so if she is writing this down, that means that Zach is writing this down. His worst, most negative thoughts are writing all this down, showing him that this was the right decision. This will end all his suffering, and whoever reads the note will understand and be happy for him. This was his solution.

“He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city

The city’s biggest bluff is making itself look so pretty

He tells himself to be tough, isolated and gritty

But gritty’s kinda hard when his brain’s run by committee”

This is how he decides to die. Now with a gunshot like Interlude II hinted at. He is willing to jump for it.

Look at the album cover. Did he go for it? I don’t think so, but we’ll get to that.

The song concludes with him saying this:

“So who do I speak of and why is he grey?

He rejects all his love, see the prices he pays

To his vices he caves, in a crisis of fates

No tragic history, only a mystery 

So I say to you, ‘who?’

Why don't’cha tell me?”

This is him confirming to us, the audience, that this is Zach’s character speaking about himself. He’s been hinting and clueing at us to this song all along, and now he is making sure that we know what’s going on in his head. He’s ready to end it. 

His love for Juanita broke his heart so severely that it left him broken and bruised beyond repair. And if you can’t fix it, it’s time to throw it away.

So he heads back out to the bluff to jump.

Interlude III - Second Thoughts

He’s standing on a bluff overlooking the city. The bluff’s height is making itself not so pretty. Is this being tough? Or just being petty? But petty’s not likely, it’s a selfish, single entity…

Doe she really want to do this? Looking down, Zach thinks about what made him come here. The drugs? They’re messing him up. He’s aware of it, he’s been aware of it. Would jumping be giving in to their influence? Or Juanita’s? 

“We put his record on until he’s bleeding on the needle

And he’s weeping in the street

Cut down on his curtain call

That’s where he’s gonna sleep.”

Standing on top of the bluff now, he looks down onto the road. He can see that there is where he could die, but he’s suddenly not so sure. The idea just slammed into him, reality slapping him in the face. “Do you really want to do this?” 

“Take aim with these hands he once possessed

A dozen roses on the pavement laid the rest

Oh, my dear sister Christie, will I feel some remorse?

She says ‘no, pull the trigger, ‘cuz he’s left us no recourse.

His brain has a sickness, so kill it at the source.’”

He steps closer. He can see, in his mind, the image of his dead body lying on the road, forever resting. But, was that the right call? To just throw in the towel like that? So, in true metaphorical fashion, he turns and asks Christie. His inner demons. They’ve been straight with him before, right? And, of course, they say “yes, go for it.”

But Zach still isn’t sure.

I believe he backs off for now, leading the way to Curtain Call.

Curtain Call

This is where it really starts to get difficult when it comes to dissecting this album, and from here on out, I guarantee that I got things wrong. However, stay with me, because I’m open to and want to discuss what everyone else thinks it all could mean. I’m going to share my ideas, and if you have a better one, tell me and I can either agree or argue it with you. Point is, like English class (in high school), if you have the evidence to back it up, you’re not wrong. Let’s have a serious discussion about this.

On with the show! Now, it appears as though Zach is arguing with himself in this one, one wanting to show people that he’s hurt so he can get help- the side that wants to live- but on the other hand, his other half knows that there’s nothing they can do if he does. He’d just weigh them all down. Because all of him agrees that he’s useless and hopeless. 

He sends up a prayer (I think Zach is Christian, so this makes sense), asking for, basically, karma of some kind. He’s done feeling this way, and wants it to stop. So he asks for “some price to pay,” hoping that there’s a solution, but knowing that the solution isn’t going to be handed to him on a silver platter. He’d need to work to get better, and this is him saying that he’s willing to do that. He WANTS to live, but he’s just not sure he can anymore. And that’s his main argument. Can he do this? Was it even worth it?

Obviously, with Zach being a famous actor (both irl and in the album), he has a double life. One is bringing joy to others, while the other is a constant internal struggle. The world is a stage, and at this point, Zach is basically admitting- through metaphors- that he has been acting. Pretending. 

Consider this lyric, put there- side by side- very intentionally:

“I find that I’m anything but fine.

No, I’m okay. Oh please just look away!”

It’s all a mask. And it’s one he’s tired of wearing. Notice how tired he sounds when he sings those lines. He’s done. He’s been done.

“Bourbon to kill my pain

Curtains to hold my shame

No, they can’t look away

Cannot contain my rage…”

These lines are telling us that people around Zach have started to notice that he’s off, but he wants to believe that he’s okay, that he’ll be okay. So he continues his career (“curtains to hold my shame”), even though it’s hurting him to do so at that point. And people are starting to notice. And that’s making him frustrated. At himself. At them. He’s tired. Let him rest. He just wants to rest and forget. Bourbon, alcohol, kill the pain. Make it go away so they can’t see. But they already see. The mask is old and withering in decay.

Towards the end, Zach’s voice becomes more echoey and distant (discluding the Italian that I have no hope of understanding, which is why I’ve yet to mention it). This shows that he’s distancing himself, running away, if you will.

Running back to the bluff.

And this time, he jumps.

Interlude IV - Showtime

Okay, meme time. This is the one everyone knows. However, we are not going to be talking about a Connverse fight that honestly makes no sense given the limited context of the song (as cool as those animatics are). We will be talking about, however, Zach facing and challenging his inner demons. Christie does not exist. Why should she rule over his life?

Let’s break this one down, since this one is the hardest to fit into the story.

He jumps, but survives the fall. Maybe dazed, maybe broken. Maybe it was just a dream. Maybe this song IS the dream. We can’t be sure. Everything is metaphorical in this one. Perhaps he didn’t jump at all. We can’t be sure.

Christie congratulates him. She tells him that he’s free. He did the right thing, and now it was just the two of them. They could do whatever they wanted without feeling so weighed down!

Zach disagrees, coming to a realization.

He jumped. Christie had said that it’d make everything okay again, that it’d be bliss. Well, he jumped, and it wasn’t. It was worse. He felt anger and fear, and this leads him to finally, for once, counter her. 

“The world is ours!”

“No it isn’t.”

“Get in the car.”

“This isn’t finished.”

“...What?”

She’s shocked that Zach openly argues with her, and as their bickering goes on (which I’m sure a lot of you reading this can hear perfectly in your heads, so I won’t write the exact lyrics down), Zach gains more confidence. He accuses her of murdering him. “And they’ll all think that it was suicide, but Christie, I know that it was you inside.” Remember, she’s not real and therefore didn’t really “kill” him, but he blames her as he allowed her to control and manipulate him. 

Christie is shocked, stating that everything she did, she did to comfort him. ”I saved him! I held him ‘til the moment he [Zach’s “innocence”] died!”) However, Zach realizes what she really is now, and decides that enough is enough. (“You choked him out of his goddamn mind! Promised the world to him, a goddamn lie!”) He knows what she is, and won’t let himself be manipulated by her again. 

Now, the whole time, they’re talking about someone who is dead. Who is that someone? Zach. However, it’s all a metaphor. When Zach jumped, a part of him died. The last of his humanity? His sanity? I think his “innocence,” which I say in quotes because I’m sure there’s a better word for it out there somewhere. He’s done being blind to the truth, blindly following Christie around. The part of him that was naive enough to do that, to listen to her influence and complain about the world, is gone. He’s dead.

And that means Zach isn’t taking anymore s***. 

C: “I won’t help you take [Juanita] down.”

Z: “Fine. I’LL DO IT BY MYSELF!”

C: “You don’t need it!”

Z: “Oh, I know that I need it.”

C: “She’s been gone for years, I know you can beat it!”

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her…

But you let me kill him, you’re WORSE than Juanita!”

Juanita herself never killed him. She never physically harmed him, not in any way that counts here. However, Christie did. She pushed and pushed him, taking a fragile boy and breaking him even more. Zach is now his own worst enemy, not Juanita, and this is him realizing it. But he doesn’t want to be his own enemy.

C: “I won’t help you take her down.”

Christie doesn’t want Zach to face her, because she knows that that would be him really facing his demons and starting down the path to healing. Juanita is Zach’s biggest obstacle, aside from himself. He has to face himself first, and that’s why this song is so powerful. Zach is taking a step back and realizing what he has to do, who he is, and why things are like this.

Z: “Oh, look in the mirror, you know we both fear her. 

We’re one and the same, we’re afraid to be near her!”

There’s that mirror metaphor again, except that he’s not looking at himself with hatred; he’s looking at himself with understanding (and a side of hatred). He’s ready to face her. He’s ready to get everything to stop.

“1, 2, 3, 4

Is this what love is really for? 

Is this all I get for being yours?

The kid in front of me in blood and gore?”

The kid is, again, Zach’s “innocence.” He understands, he’s ready to not only move on, but also confront her.

5, 6, 7, 8

Years left to waste for all I hate

They’ll all know Juanita’s fate!

Show’s about to start; don’t be late.”

He knows that it’s going to be a showdown, a big, epic throw down. And Christie isn’t coming with him. He’s leaving her behind. He’s leaving his demons behind, breaking free from them and moving on.

War!

The ultimate throw down begins!

“A wise man once said, ‘time is money’

So how much money did I lose to you, honey?

Find it kinda funny you wanna keep this feud runnin’

But I’m glad I’m on your mind, keep that canon fire coming, woah!”

This is 100% a diss track. Zach confronts Juanita in front of a lot of her friends (we hear multiple girls go “huh?” as they realize that Zach’s here and he’s ANGRY), and immediately starts in. No introductions, no “hey it’s nice to see you again”s, nothing. He’s here to make a statement, and he’s gonna do so.

He realizes Juanita for who she is now, and she has done so many horrible things to him. Spreading rumors and lies to ruin his life, after dating him just to get a story to write about. He’s sick of it and done. He calls her out, and it’s important that he does this in front of other people so they see what she’s really done. He’s hurt, he’s been hurt, and it’s because of Juanita, this amazing person a lot of people looked up to and liked (“I know, Juanita deserves so much more [Interlude I]”. “Step inside the life of the men weak enough to follow you [Phantom Love]). 

Juanita also appears to be dating someone else by this time. This is really important, because now due to context clues we got from before, the only reason Juanita dates is to get a heartbreak out of it so she can have the motivation and drive to write her own album. That’s why she dated Zach. So, if she’s dating again, that means she either lost the motivation and drive again, or she never had it in the first place since it wasn’t a real love between them. She didn’t truly experience a heartbreak at all. This is further backed up by the claim that “we’ve been waiting on your album for ages, no traces, and baby, we’ve already run out of patience!” She’s only dating to get that experience again.

This means that, at least in Zach’s eyes, she hasn’t changed. “To your new boy, let he be warned: you’re her new toy for blood and gore! What, you didn’t know?” She is going to destroy him emotionally, and he’s going to go down the same path as Zach, ending in death- blood on the pavement. The gore part is to emphasize how horrific the whole ordeal was.

“Sit down with me and sign this armistice

Get your big proboscis outta my s***, miss”

A proboscis is the butterfly equivalent of a tongue. They use it for sucking nectar out of flowers. So, what he’s saying here is that they need to settle this between them (“sign this armistice”), and that she needs to mind her own business. By her talking about Zach like that, she ruined his life and he’s sick of it. She literally sucked the joy out of him like nectar. 

“Welcome to the new me!

Paint your nails black and unscrew me

But that’s okay, Juanita

Know my business is booming”

His business is a reference to his own album, the very one you’re listening to. His music career took off now because of her and the fact that she broke his heart, not the other way around. Juanita can never understand that because she “only loves to be broken [Phantom Love].” 

“That’s alright, that’s okay!

You barely wrote them anyway

Half your songs got thrown away

Like ballets on voting day

All my ballads had more to say

Like a bullet through a motorcade”

In a twist, Zach got the story Juanita had wanted. He experienced a heartbreak, while she never really did. So he writes an album instead of her. It’s a cool kind of karma that Zach- or, at least, his character- can’t resist. 

The whole song ends with him forcing her/her friends to sing along with him, repeating her name, then yelling. She screams, and it cuts out. 

I think he’s lost his sanity (or again, his “innocence”) here. He gets carried away, and either attacks her or makes like he’s about to. I think he makes like he’s about to, but stops. This is the final song; if Zach killed her, there would more than likely be another song depicting the consequences and an Interlude V to show the aftermath of the incident. But because he stopped himself, he’s satisfied. Juanita learned her lesson, Zach got everything off his chest, and the people around them know the truth. 

That’s all he’s wanted for longer than we can possibly know.

Final Observations

Zach Callison has gone on record to say that “Juanita” has finally published an album of her own, but that happened months later. I don’t have any specific dates for anything, though. No one knows who the real-life “Juanita” is, which in my opinion, is noble of Zach. He had a lot of anger to get out, but unlike her, he wasn’t going to ruin her life to try and get something out there. He can make a statement without ruining someone else along the way.

With that knowledge, let us all stand and clap for this man.

Not only is the album just a really good listen, but each song tells a cohesive story. The tones each song sets, as well as the far under-appreciated interludes (or over-appreciated in terms of Showtime), really shows how his emotional state changes. Phantom Love is a lament, She Don’t Know is a classic “I’m sad bc my gf broke up with me :(“ which is how Zach perceives that incident at that point in time, whereas Nightmare is him falling into depression stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. Curtain Call is him arguing with himself about whether or not he should even live anymore, and it all comes back around with the upbeat, heavy-rock literal song of War!. The interludes take the tone of the next song and combine it with the lyrics of the previous to show that smooth transition between emotions as he grapples with his mental state, the only exception really being Interlude I, as it has an overall bouncy tone to it.

Zach not only made every single song enjoyable, but also unique and heartfelt. Just listen to how his voice shakes during Christie Only Knows. He is genuinely upset and lost, and because of this, he’s better able to convey the HUGE emotion dump that was his album.

Do I recommend it? Yes. I think there’s something in there for everyone, even if you only enjoy one of the songs. However, doing a review is going to be an entire post in and of itself.

Thanks for reading, guys. Now go listen to the album and tell me your thoughts. Does my explanation make sense? Do you have a better idea? Let me know. I want to have a real discussion about it with other people who have listened to the whole thing, not just Interlude IV.

If you haven’t listened to it yet, it’s on YouTube and ITunes. Do yourself a favor and check it out. The whole thing is ~45 minutes long.

Have a link to the playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_n1rA_1uUBtxoATot0ixiTgvdEHhj3lAn4

[professional-benaddict]

Tony is a cop and he’s doing a drug raid, tony watches as druggies get arrested but when he sees one cop go to far with arresting a little! Peter by manhandling him and hitting him he takes matters into his own hands and takes the 19 year old boy in with medic Stephen.

tHank you for the brilliant prompt omg I know I said I wouldn't do prompts before my exam is over with but I just couldn't stop myself sksk I wrote this all in one sitting 

part two here

Cop Tony, paramedic Stephen, 18+ Little Peter, Littles are known verse, police raids, SWAT teams, drug dealing, guns and violence, illegal drug use, referenced forced drug use, bad trip, whump, angst, comfort, 1.7k

It’s so odd, the feelings he has right before a raid. There’s electricity in the air, and yet it is peaceful and quiet. It is three in the morning, after all. Tony can hear his blood rush in his ear with each beat of his heart. It resembles how noises sound underwater, muffled and distant. And yet, he is as calm as ever, and breathes quietly as he looks at the office window. That’s their main target. They know that a week before, a large quantity of cocaine was smuggled in and brought to this exact location. A mule had told them, and so that was all the evidence they needed to start planning a raid. 

Every step has been calculated carefully beforehand. No one takes a step without it being planned. The bullet proof vest pinches Tony in his left armpit, but he can’t reach out to adjust it. He tries to roll his shoulder, and it worsens the pinch before it eases off. His eyes never dart away from the dark office window. 

Further down the street, a vehicle approaches. The headlights are turned off, and they are rolling in as quietly as possible, so that the element of surprise is not ruined. If it is, it could mean serious trouble. Suddenly, the danger of it all hits Tony, which it sometimes does when they are all anxiously anticipating the clear to go. His chest feels a bit tighter again, and it’s not due to the bullet proof vest, although it felt a bit small when Tony put it on. Glancing over to see who had arrived, Tony squints his eyes to try and make out who exits the vehicle. All the nerves ease off when Tony recognises Stephen. The two of them have become roommates quite recently. It’s cheaper to share, Tony had insisted. He is definitely not lonely, but he hopes Stephen is. 

Stephen is a paramedic, and an excellent one. Considering their work and how it often clashes when responding to calls, Tony has become familiar with the paramedic long before even meeting him in person. But, on one call Tony had finally decided to introduce himself properly. Stephen had apologised for how sweaty his hand was, and blamed the latex gloves for it and Tony was charmed. Somehow, Tony had brought up that he was looking for someone to share an apartment with, only because it is cheaper, and to his surprise, Stephen had said the same. They have been living together for a month, and already Tony feels more at ease knowing Stephen is present, if things were to go terribly wrong. 

“Stark, eyes on the target!” Fury whispers harshly into Tony’s earpiece, and officer shifts his gaze back to the office window. He does not bother apologising to his superior team leader, since that would just make more noise. 

Then, the action starts. It is like a play. Everyone has their role, and Nick Fury directs the show beautifully. Doors are kicked in, windows are shattered and the different teams enter the building perfectly on cue. The armed SWAT team members go first, and secure the building like terrifying angels. There are no gunshots fired, luckily, but there is plenty of shouting and yelling. Mostly, it is the SWAT team ordering the ones occupying the building to get down and keep their hands behind their heads. 

Then, it’s Tony turns and the rest of the police officers to make the actual arrests when the SWAT team has secured the place. Wouldn’t it be nice if Stephen saw him bringing out a handcuffed drug dealer? Tony half smirks at the idea and snaps the cuffs onto three different drug deals. The scene is surprisingly calm, despite the fact that one of the dealers seems to be crying. Judging by the smell, he also shit himself in pure fear. 

Raised voices and whimpering cries makes Tony turn his attention to the hallway. The cries get louder, and the officer feels his gut twist at the vulnerable tone. Could that be a child? Or a Little? There was no information about there potentially being Littles or children involved in the briefing. 

“Take them outside.” Tony says to the SWAT team member by his side, gesturing to the handcuffed dealers, then makes a few quick strides to get to the hallway. There, he sees another SWAT team member manhandling a Little up against the wall. The boy is clearly a Little with his smaller body combined with a post puberty shape. Even if he is not a child, that is no way to treat a Little. 

“Hey, back off! He’s a Little, can’t you tell?” Tony calls out and shoves the SWAT guy back and away from the boy. With the SWAT guy no longer holding him up against the wall, the boy collapses to the floor with a choked off sob. 

“He was resisting and disobeying orders.” The SWAT guy explains, his eyes hard as he looks at Tony. In the all black and well-protected SWAT gear, the only thing you can see is his blue eyes and pale eyebrows. If Tony wasn’t feeling the contempt between the police force and SWAT team before, he definitely feels it now. 

“He’s a Little.” Tony emphasises. “Of course he is disobeying when you’re towering over him like that.” The police officer points out and the SWAT guy scoffs behind his black mask. 

“And that’s why you could never be one of us.” He accuses, and then walks away. 

Tony wants to be offended, and wants to memorise the SWAT guy as best as he can to later call him out in front of Nick Fury, but another loud sob by his feet distracts him. Crouching down to the Little, Tony gently turns him on his back. Immediately, Tony is drawn to the boy’s honey brown eyes. They look soft, and innocent, and remind him of the sweetness of brown sugar, or caramelised sugar. But, then his attention is drawn to just how wide the boy’s pupils are, and how the vessels in the whites of his eyes are bulging and looking angry red. Cocaine eyes. 

Tapping his earpiece, Tony speaks quickly to Fury. 

“Get Strange in here.” 

“We didn’t hear a gunshot-“

“No, there’s a Little here. He’s taken or been given crack.” 

After Tony says that, it sparks a lot more action and the paramedics are lead inside with some of the SWAT team, considering the drug dealers have not all been escorted out yet. Next to him, Stephen has his work partner, Christine, and they both drop their first aid bags on the floor before crouching down to the floor by the still crying Little. It seems like he is having a bad trip. 

“Hey.” Stephen greets to Tony. The officer smiles back shortly before stepping back to let the paramedics work. “Hi, there, sweetheart. My name is Stephen, and this is my friend Christine. What’s your name?” 

“P-Peter…” 

“Peter? That’s such a pretty name.” Stephen compliments and slips on a pair of powder blue gloves that Christine passes over to him. “Now, Peter, can you tell me what you’ve taken?”

“I… dunno… don’t feel good…” 

“I know, bud, and we’ll help you. But, we need to know what you took, so we can give you the right medicine.” 

“They… said it was- was snow. Was… white and- powdery. Don’t like it when they sti-stick it in…” The boy stutters out bravely. 

“Cocaine.” Stephen says quietly to Christine, who nods and starts readying an IV to insert into the back of the boy’s hand. Then, he turns to Peter again with a smile. “You’re so brave for telling us, thank you. Now, can you tell me how you feel? Are you hurting, sweetie?” 

Stephen’s sweet and caring tone is not enough to better the burning rage Tony feels inside when he thinks of what the boy said. Did they force him to use cocaine? To keep him with them? Just how addicted is he? What role does he have in this sick household? 

All this and more questions rush through Tony’s mind at a hundred miles an hour, or even faster. It takes two repetitions from Fury for Tony to actually hear him, and move onto his next task. He knows the Little while be in safe hands with Stephen and Christine. 

Half an hour later, the show is just about over. Or at least the exciting part of it. The investigation itself will start later in the morning, but for now everyone is pleased with the outcome of the raid. The drug dealers have all been arrested and driven to kept in custody and the SWAT team is packing up as well. Stood out in the yard of the building, Tony sees Stephen and Christine transporting the Little out of the main door on a gurney. He is not just laying on the gurney, but actually strapped in with straps going over his torso. Peter also has an oxygen mask on his face, and seems to be unconscious. Tony jogs over. 

“What took so long?” 

“He had a seizure, but it was less that two minutes. I think he got a really bad high.” Stephen says where he is pushing the top of the gurney towards the ambulance. 

“Can I come with?” Tony asks, before he thinks better of it. 

“Stark, you’re supposed to be here, right?” Stephen asks, but his tone isn’t rude. Just pointing out what Tony seems oblivious to at the moment. 

“Yeah, right…” The officer sighs, but still keeps walking alongside Stephen. When they reach the ambulance, he helps the two paramedics with loading in their unconscious patient. Once the gurney is secure, Stephen climbs into the back. Christine heads to the drivers seat, and starts the engine. They do not have that much time, so Tony doesn’t hold them back. “I’ll see you at the apartment, I guess.” 

Stephen gives him a smile and nod before closing the double doors. A few seconds later, Christine starts the sirens and they drive away into the night, illuminating the streets in red as they go. Once the ambulance is out of sight, Tony heads to Fury with a request. 

“Sir? I’d like to take the Little’s statement.” 

[sleep-i-ness]

*Let Bygones Be Bitches (Klaus Hargreeves x reader)

For @the--sad--hatter​‘s Tea Party Challenge

**TRIGGER WARNING**: Substance abuse, mentions of overdose, probably swearing, glamourisation of drugs

I’m not really sure where I went with this. I also haven’t edited it but it’s something I wrote a while back for this challenge and I realised the deadline is tomorrow so I banged out the ending :)

Taglist: @neymarlionelmessi7​ @persephonehemingway​ @blisfvll​ @20coldhearts​

There was something so exhilaratingly freeing about drugs. No one had ever talked to you about that, school had drilled into you the terrible effects of them but as you fell into harder and harder drugs, that had been the last thing from your mind. Really, what you blamed was society. Drugs were only seen as bad if you were poor, if you were a junkie and homeless, or living in poverty. Never mind the upper classes who were almost always off their asses on cocaine; snorted off gold dishes and offered around at social gatherings. Your parents certainly had seen no problems in them; most of your childhood they were high, living life as carefree as possible. Who cared if they had a kid to look after? Well, that was what nannies were for. And you craved their attention. Their approval. So, you acted out more and more, getting kicked out of one posh private school after the other with nothing more than a warning letter from your father each time.

And so, drugs had ended up becoming an escape rather than the rebellion you had hoped to lead against the careless lifestyle of the rich. The schmoozing amongst those of your ‘kind’ was done over lines of cocaine and ever-flowing bottles of champagne, never sober enough to have to remember enduring pointless small talk. Life was too fun to bother with formalities, you and the reckless debutantes and bachelors of your age were jumping off roofs into pools and committing arson instead. And when you reached the ripe age of 21, you moved back to your childhood home, surrounded by staff and peers just like yourself, but no one who really cared. Your parents weren’t frugal to say the least, and your allowance grew each time you reached the limit. It was almost like a challenge to see how much you could spend in a month. It wasn’t like you were anywhere near close to running out.

Your town was almost a cultural phenomenon, known for being the residence of the Umbrella Academy, back in the days when they were actually a team. Not just one pitiful member left to sort out the messes by himself. You weren’t sure what had happened to anyone other than Allison, who had launched herself into super-stardom and therefore was constantly a topic of gossip when local drama was dull. Tonight, you had agreed to host your ‘friends’, who were bringing a few of their friends and you knew the place would be wrecked by the end of the night. You wished you could pretend to care about the priceless antiques and expensive imported furniture, but it was all just stuff. Stuff that could easily be replaced. It didn’t truly matter.

You awoke the next day under blinding light in an unrecognisable room, blank white walls glaringly painful. You weren’t at home, that was for sure, nowhere was decorated this hideously at home. As your vision swam into focus, you saw the IV drip hooked up to your arm and heart monitor beeping steadily. Oh fuck, you were in the hospital again. And they hadn’t even bothered to put you in your family’s private suite; you were sure to be making a complaint as soon as you got out.

“Oh good, Miss Y/L/N, you’re awake.” A nurse bustled over, and you bit back the remark that was on the tip of the tongue. You were so sure that nurses were meant to be female, but clearly not in this case. “You were brought in last night, having had a seizure with a dangerously high body temperature and heart rate.”

Oh, that would be the effects of a cocaine overdose. You knew enough about them, having both experienced them first-hand and seen others having them, to know the symptoms. You remained silent, knowing that your family’s private doctor would soon have you out of this dump in the more public area and away from prying eyes. Your parents had people working to ensure that any scandals would be hushed up, so you assumed that this was just a blip before they set you up in a place a bit more suited to your wealth.

“How are you feeling now?” The nurse asked, checking the monitor at the end of your bed, and noting down something on a clipboard.

“Absolutely wonderful,” you remarked dryly, voice hoarse, mouth dry as sandpaper.

“Good, good,” he muttered, placing the tatty clipboard back in the scratched plastic holder. Your upper lip curled; that did not look very sanitary.

The nurse strode out looking purposeful and you wondered what purpose he actually had considering that doctors were the ones who actually did any work.

As the plastic ticking of a clock and heavy breathing of the infirm filled the air, you rolled your eyes, feeling ill at the thought of all of the germs floating around you. The off-white paint was peeling in the corner, cracks running down the wall, disrupting blotchy yellow marks of discolouration. As your eyes roved over the disgusting state of the ward, the scuff marks on the blue linoleum floor caught your gaze and you held back a groan. Did they not clean the place?

“Hey,” a languid voice called from the bed next to you and you frowned, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out whether he was talking to you. “Hey, miss judgemental.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, don’t know your name.” His tone implied he didn’t even care, and you sneered, why had he even bothered to try and start a conversation? “Was I not meant to notice the disgusted looks you were giving the ward?”

“Do I know you?” He clearly wasn’t somebody you would have mixed with, eyes ringed with the remnants of a couple day’s old eyeliner and hair mussed up, strands sticking up in various directions. But there was still something that made you hesitate.

“I’m Klaus.” Klaus… That was a Scandinavian name, right? Maybe he was related to the Bengtsson twins.

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You waited for the expected exclamation of awe or some form of recognition at least. There was nothing and you snuck a peek at Klaus who had merely raised an eyebrow.

“Y/L/N?” He seemed to be trying to recall something from deep in the dregs of his memory, eyes fluttering shut. “Hang on, wasn’t there a kidnapping? Something about a ransom that wasn’t paid?”

You froze.

There had been so many lawsuits and pulling of strings to ensure that that story never came out.

“How the hell do you know about that?” You hissed lowly, glancing around at the other patients who seemed fast asleep or too deaf to hear anything.

Klaus raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, taken aback at your reaction. “What do you mean?”

“No one knows about that. No one.”

“Well, I do.” Clearly. Your breathing had sped up and your head felt light. It was all over. You were safe. You were okay. They weren’t here. Goddamn it, why wasn’t it working! The sudden bolt of anger flashed through the fog, but you were too numb to process it.

Klaus had pursed his lips, eyes narrowed, and eyebrows furrowed. Your brain marked that it was an amusing expression. “Hey, Y/N, just breathe with me, okay? Breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, hold for 1, 2, 3, breathe out for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.”

You followed his counting, eyes squeezed shut as your ears focused in on his voice. The bustle of hospital eased out as your breathing filled your thoughts. Every breath was forced out, long but shallow as your heart pounded in your head, the beat deafening.

You gasped, suddenly realising where you knew him from. “Klaus… Hargreeves? You were there. That’s why you know.”

The crisp, starchy sheets were clean under your grip, crinkling between your fingers as you clenched your hands subconsciously. Leaning closer to him to watch his response, he nodded slowly, head slowly lifting to make eye contact. A mask had dropped, eyes showing something a lot more vulnerable.

“Yeah. That one was one of the worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was your fault. And you’d thought the only one affected was you.

“Parents, right?” Klaus murmured, propping himself up on one arm as he continued to watch you.

Your parents hadn’t even cared. They hadn’t bothered to pay the ransom. The kidnappers had slowly stopped bothering to even come visit you with food. Leaving you to slowly died. No one had cared.

And then the Umbrella Academy had turned up. And you’d had the hope rekindled that someone cared.

Your return to your parents had been a surprise, a ‘wonderful surprise’ as they claimed. And the hope has sunk, like a lead balloon as you realised that they hadn’t wanted you back.

“Yeah.” You nodded, knowing nothing needed to be said to explain it. “I feel like it might be a billionaire thing.”

Klaus hummed, rolling onto his back with a dramatic groan as he threw his arms into the air. He stretched out, limbs unfurling like a cat, lithe and supple. The crinkle of plastic caught your ear and you snapped your head towards him, just catching sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed quickly. He stretched out his arms and the plastic bag glinted in his hand. You grabbed it from him, gratefully swallowing the small blue pill inside.

“You know what, Klaus,” you paused, fiddling with the end of your sleeves. “I feel like we might be more similar than expected.”

He grinned, an almost maniacal twinkle in his eyes. “God, we’re such a cliché. Bonding over childhood trauma? Where’d we get that idea from? Some angsty YA novel?”

He snorted at his own joke and you couldn’t help but smile in response, noting the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the small dimples popping in his cheeks.

Hopefully, this would follow the cliché trope right to the happy ending.

[anythingandeverything1d]

SNL

You were lounging on the couch trying to watch the bachelor while Harry was anxiously pacing in front of the tv. His head was down and he was talking to himself. You sighed loudly trying to get his attention but he continued pacing and practicing. “Babe.” you tried. Again, nothing. “Haz.” He didn't even look your direction. “Harry.” He actually turned his back to you. “Harry Edward Styles.” you said louder. His head snapped up, his green eyes full of anxiety as they set upon yours. “Babe what are you doing?”

“Practicing. I have SNL to film tomorrow.” He turned to go back to what he was doing but you stopped him again.

“Harry.” He looked up again. “I asked what you were doing. Not what you think you're doing.” You stood up, walked over to him and held tightly onto his hands, pressing a gentle kiss to them. He sighed and pulled you into a tight hug. 

“I just want to be good. I don't want people to doubt me.”

“Since when have you cared what people think?” you asked while tracing lines in his back.

“I don't..I just - ugh. I have loved SNL for so long. I want to be the kind of person I enjoy seeing on the show. I want to be funny.” 

You smiled and looked up at him. “Haz you are funny.”

“No everyone thinks its cute I try to be funny. I want to actually be funny.”

“I think you are actually funny.” you tap his nose. “You make me laugh everyday.”

“Yeah but your my girlfriend you have to laugh.” He half smiles and kisses your forehead. 

“I don't have to do anything just because I’m your girlfriend.” Harry was a little calmer so you stepped and pulled him to the couch.

He sighed and stood back up. “Im not good enough for this. I don't know how to be funny.” He had tears in your eyes and your heart lurched a little wanting to make it better. 

“Harry don't ever say you're not good enough. You're freaking Harry Edward Styles. You were in the BIGGEST boyband in the world. You topped charts with your solo career. You've traveled all over the world, seen things people can only dream of seeing. You get to do what you love. Harry your incredible. You're a down to earth person. If you just be yourself and don't worry about what you think people are going to think of you, you will kill SNL tomorrow. I promise.” 

You stood up and circled your arms around his waist. You placed a gentle kiss to his lips and he smiled. “But what if people don't think I’m funny?”

“Then they don't think youre funny. What are you going to lose? You love SNL. Its been a dream of yours to do and now youre actually doing it. It doesn't matter if youre good or not because youre going to have fun doing it.”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. I just want to feel prepared...”

“Then lets practice. Come on.” You turned the tv off and dragged him to the piano. “Preform your monologue for me.”

Harry stood there anxious and nerves but you nodded and pushed him along. He smiled and took a deep breath. “It is so great to be here hosting Saturday Night Live for the first time.” You smiled and asked him to continue. “I am so excited to be here as more than just a musical guest. It-it feels” he stumbled and looked at you.

“What does it feel like?”

He thought and then smiled, “Kinda like the feeling when you know I found out you liked me as more than just a friend. Like when we are taking things to the next level.” 

You smiled and laughed. “I love that. So restart from It feels like..”

“It feels amazing to be here. Just like the feeling of finding out someone likes you as more than just a friend. SNL and I are taking things to the next level.” You grinned and gave him a thumbs up while taking a drink of water. “And just like all my serious relationships, we are all going to spend one incredible night together.” You spit the water out of your mouth choking and laughing. Harry laughed as you wiped your mouth with his sleeve. 

“Is it too much?” he asked worried he had crossed a line. 

“No. I loved it. It was a very you type of joke.”

“Okay are you sure...you are dating me..I don't want to make you feel a certain way..”

“Harry keep it seriously I loved it.”

He nodded and continued on. “This is a new territory for me. I get to do some comedy tonight but I do want to make one thing clear to everyone. My priority is the music. It goes music, then comedy.” He smiled as he said the next part, trying not to laugh at his own jokes and that made you smile even bigger. “Well let's me honest. It goes music, then fantastic hair, then comedy, and then family and then friends.” You laughed and could tell he was feeling more confident in himself. “But ultimately I am a very serious musician.” Harry gave you a very serious face you and laughed harder wiping a tear from your eye.

“Harry-” you started but he interrupted. 

“And nothing says serious musician like talking and playing the piano.” He sat at the piano next to you and smiled, bumping your shoulder. “Oh yeah that feels good he” he started playing some keys while he continued talking. “You know.” he looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “In Britain we play piano on the other side of the road.” You laughed again and he took that as a sign to continue. “Now you know that I’m not in a boyband anymore. I’m in a man band now.”

You stood up laughing and trying to catch your breath. Harry was laughing at his own joke but more at your reaction. “A man band” you cried. Harry laughed and looked confused. 

“I am a man.” He argued.

You smiled and took a breath. “I know but Ive never heard that before. It was a good one. Continue.” you told him catching your breath.

He cleared his throat and looked at you. “I was in a band called One Direction. How crazy would it be if they were here tonight.” 

Your mouth dropped. “How did you arrange for tha-”

“Well they're not here. But wouldn't it be crazy if they were though?” You smiled and rolled your eyes sitting next to him again. “They're not. But I love those guys. They’re like my brothers. Niall, Liam, Louis, and uh -oh yeah Ringo.” You smacked his arm laughing but he continued on. “Yeah thats it. We're just so grateful Simon Cowell grew us in those test tubes.”

“Harry!” 

“You know for me its not about the fame or the money.” you nodded your head. “Its about the music, and the art. The art and the music and the music and the art. I believe that music is universal in language. Especially music performed in English because thats the only language I understand. Now maybe some of you aren't convinced I’m a serious musician. You may be asking yourself is he really playing that piano right now? Well if in doubt take a look. Read them and weep. I love being here at SNL, so much history.” He paused and looked at you. “I have learned so much this week so heres a few secrets about the show. Did you know they put make up on the boys too?” you laughed and he smirked. “That is funny. In fact the make up team is so talented, I’m actually Kate McKinnon. And heres a secret about the Rockefeller Christmas tree. It’s Jewish. And also, everyone thinks the cast does a lot of cocaine.”

“Oh my god Harry-”

“They don't. Thats why the shows not good anymore. Except tonight. I think im just about ready to take you home. Mmm yeah that is music. We've got a great show so stick around well be right back.” He stood up and waved. You clapped and stood up, wrapping your arms around his body so that you were climbing up his back. You pressed a kiss on his cheek and laughed. 

“Harry that was so good. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Did you like my jokes?”

“I loved them. I think you're going to momentarily disappoint One Directions fans but they will talk about that moment for weeks.”

“Which part the boys being there or Ringo?”

You laughed and shook your head, “All of it.” Harry sat you down and you hugged him tightly again. “Im seriously so proud of you.”

“Don't be too proud yet. I haven't done it yet.” He blushed but still held his smile.

“Babe you're going to be amazing. I don't even doubt it.”

You pressed your lips to his and he smiled, kissing you back. “Thanks for being the best cheerleader.”

“Anytime Haz, now can we finish the bachelor please?”

Harry nodded and scooped you into his arms, carrying you back to the couch. “Which fool do we have tonight.”

“Still Peter. He’s playing games though telling all the girls he loves them.”

“Psh what a fool.” Harry kissed your face over and over and you laughed. “Do you really think I’m that funny?”

“I think you are hilarious.” You kissed him again and smiled before turning your attention back to the tv.

Harry smiled and nodded, all the anxiety he originally had was gone. He seemed more confident as he settled into the couch with you. “Im gonna kill this monologue. I’m going to be the best host.”

“Yes you are.” you smiled brushing his hair back from his face. “If the music thing ends up failing at least you have comedy.” Harry laughed shaking his head and watched tv. 

“Im just glad I have you here through it all. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now shhhh its about time for the rose ceremony.” 

---

Got this request. Hope you enjoy!

xoxo

[smokinonsomeweed]

On tumblr i feel like i have the most transparency, least ppl i actually know following me, and out of the social media apps, i feel like tumblr has the least judgement. so im going to express some things here in addition to what i wrote in my journal.

I experimented with drugs at a very young age. Like 13+

I’m 20 years old now, going to be 21 next month and last time i was really addicted to something was cocaine when i was 17-18.

At an even younger age than 17 and 18 when i was 14-16 i was in a relationship with a boy 2 years older than me who had a history with downers, when we started dating he wasnt using any of that shit but few months into our relationship he relapsed with pills while he was having trouble as an indigenous boy with the law that was targetting him. He eventually moved on to heroin. And i dabbled in it a bit. I was never a fullblown heroin user like he was, but i tried it a couple of times. And you dont just try heroin . After one time that substance changes your brain chemistry, it is THAT addictive.

I never used it as consitently as i saw other people using it in, and my city was heavily affected by the opiate and fentanyl crisis. The amount of kids and young adults thats i still know who are affected by it is devastating. But i havent used the substance since i was 17. Before i got addicted to cocaine.

Just this past week, i had to get an abortion. The most recent man i was with got me pregnant. We’ve been clean together, just weed and occasional alcohol like most people. But i had to get put to sleep for my abortion it was in an IV, mind you i have never shot up any drug in my life. I was put to sleep this past summer 2020 for my wisdom tooth and it must have been a different anesthesia. It was probably morphine (which i experimented with in my teens too, but never got addicted) it didnt feel the same as this time when i went under.

When i went under this time it was like this painful surge all thru my left arm where they shot it, and they warned me of that, then i fell asleep but im quite sure that that was fentanyl, which is fine! The doctors are allowed to use fentanyl, especially for something like that. Im greatful i live in a country with the right to choose and free health care.. but since that anesthesia i’m most definitely having heroin withdrawals. And like i said i wasnt addicted physically to heroin. I watched my ex boyfriend and ex friends go through dopesickness and were truly addicted to the substance to the point where if they stopped cold turkey, the withdrawals could kill them. Yeah it isn’t like that, however now i’m having dreams of smoking heroin and it’s definitely a withdrawal effect from the anesthesia...

I have to be realy careful now and aware of myself. I’ve cut ties with my old drug dealers, and my current weed dealer happens to be a survivor of the opiate crisis himself. I have good family that support me the best that they can and i’m so grateful and blessed that i’m far out of that hole that i was in, in my teens.

There’s not really any reason that i’m writing this except to get it off my mind, and maybe some people relate . I dont know. I’m just reassuring myself of where i am and who i am. And im not there anymore. But i’d feel like i’m lying to myself if i didnt address it somehow.

I really need therapy and i havent taken my ssri’s for 2 days since my abortion because i forgot them at home and ive been staying at my moms for 2 days since to recover.

Its a sunny day and i live around lots of ocean, so im going to go out and watch the waves and smoke a blunt and listen to the birds and just have compassion for myself. Anyone thats gone thru addiction or is still going thru it, or have a love one who is affected by it, know that you’re not alone and it might get tough some times but anything else is a step in the right direction. Some times theres days when i just cant do anything, and thats okay. I dont have a whole lots to say because i’m still healing but i hope this reaches someone that needs to hear this.

[duhragonball]

Nanwum IV toolboxkit

I have a love/hate relationship with the word “tool”.  On the one hand, tools are awesome.    I like holding a big screwdriver and thinking about all the screws I can loosen with it.    I ordered a thing at work yesterday and I can’t wait for it to arrive.   There’s a rush of power in knowing some object will solve a bunch of problems.   Look out, screws.

On the other hand, it annoys me how people use the term “tool” in a more abstract sense, like statistical “tools” or using a flow chart to figure out what to do.    I can’t hold any of that crap, so calling it a tool feels like a bait-and-switch.   But I can appreciate the power of the term.   If you can liken a thing to a power drill, then you have my attention.   

Anyway, this weekend is for making preparations for National Novel Writing Month, which starts next Sunday, so I thought it would be useful to go over the stuff that I use to get me through it.  

1) The NaNoWriMo website.

Back in 2017, I seriously considered not even bothering with the website, because I figured it had nothing to offer.    I’m the one doing all the work, right?   But tracking progress is an effective motivator, and I like being able to see a chart that shows how well I’m doing.    There’s some bugs in it.    For some reason it doesn’t show my Camp Nano April 2018 as being complete, and when I tried to fix it, it doubled the word count instead.  

It’s also useful for where I’m at today.    Now that I’ve done this thing a few times, I can measure current performance against past years.  November 2018 was my personal best, so I’m going to use that as a model for this year.    I don’t need to beat 2018-me, but I do need to remind myself that I’ve performed this well in the past.  

2) George R. R. Martin motivational desktop wallpaper.

I started doing this as a joke, but looking at this dude sitting at his computer, not writing is a much more powerful motivator than I ever thought possible.  The idea is that if I minimize the writing window to do something else, I have to look this dude in the eye before I can look up Robocop clips on YouTube.   I’ve had months where I was struggling to meet the goal, and then I went “Oh, yeah, I forgot to change my desktop pic, and it pushes me over the finish line.   It’s like Popeye eating spinach.   

Now the Tone Police will take issue with something like this, and call it arrogant.   “How dare you put down a highly successful fantasy author just to make yourself feel confident,” they’ll say as they wag their finger.   “Don’t you care that you might be making procrastinators feel bad?”  To that I say: fuck’em.  

See, I’m a world-class procrastinator in my own right.   I have to get hyped for this stuff every year, because that’s the only way I can build up enough momentum to see it through.    Like all Sith Lords, I have to call upon all of my emotions -- fear, anger, pride, fernweh -- to fuel the creative monster.  I don’t make a dime on this, so if I can’t take some bloody satisfaction out of it then what’s the point?   

I’m pretty sure George doesn’t even know I do this, but in case he’s reading this, let me address him specifically: George, I’ve cranked out three of these Nanwums and you still haven’t finished Winds of Winter, which is well on its way to becoming the Duke Nukem Forever of modern fantasy.   I don’t know if you got soft, like Rocky in Rocky IV, or maybe you’ve lost your confidence like Rocky in Rocky III, but you have to kindle a fire under your ass, even if it’s a silly fire, like fear of dying before the book goes to print, or getting it done just to spite assholes like me.   But find something and use it.  

3) Kenny Omega vs. Sonny Kiss, AEW Dynamite 10/21/2020

This was a first-round match in a tournament for the right to challenge for the AEW World title, and it was Kenny’s big return to singles action, so I guess the idea here was to make him look strong by having him crush Sonny Kiss in under 15 seconds.   I’ve seen blowouts in wrestling before, but this one speaks to me on a different level, and I’m sorely tempted to swap out my GRRM image with this shot of in-the-zone Kenny Omega.

Because I feel this right now.    This isn’t like last year or the year before, where I got behind working on stuff in October so I wasn’t fully prepared.   I got all caught up a few weeks ago, and I have eight days to get ready.    I haven’t written a thing in weeks, and I’m itching to get back to it.    I want a big Day One total to start the month off, and seeing this match makes me want to aim even higher than 7000 words.    Can I hit 10,000 in one day?    The Cleaner sure thinks so.  Clapclap-clap clap clap.   

4) Focus Writer

You can check it out for yourself at https://gottcode.org/focuswriter/

The main selling point for Focus Writer is that it can be used for “distraction free” writing, in that it’s default setting makes it tricky to minimize the window to do other stuff.   But I turned that off a while back.    For my purposes, I just need the word counter.  

One thing I learned while editing work instead of writing from scratch is that you can just set the word count goal to 100 words.    That way, the percentage displayed at the bottom of the screen will keep track of how many words you’ve written in that session.   So if you write 1275 new words, the counter will say 1275%.  

I used to set actual goals, like 3500 words for the day or whatever, but I found myself constantly trying to calculate what 53% of that is, and that ended up being a huge distraction in itself.    So now I just stick to the 100 word “goal” and use it to track my actual progress, rather than setting lofty goals that I may not need to actually hit.   The Nano website does that for me anyway.

5) The Adventures of Dumplin

I’m essentially adapting the events of Dragon Ball Xenoverse 1 into this story, so I could break out my PS3 and play it through again to remind me of all the stuff I wanted to use from 2015, but it’s a lot easier to just watch someone else play it instead.   Team FourStar’s playthrough of the Xenoverse games is some of their best material, as far as I’m concerned, and knowing this is one of my go-to references is going to make this November pretty awesome.   

I’m not sure I could, or should, work Dumplin into my fic.  If I did, he couldn’t be the same guy who saved the day in this LP series, because I’m having Luffa do all that.   Early on, I envisioned a scene where she wakes up one morning after a night of heavy drinking and finds Dumplin in bed with her, but that seemed a little too goofy to use.    But I want you to have that mental picture anyway, so I’m writing about it here.

6) Diet Pepsi

Straight Edge, Hard Core.    Stephen King’s a wuss for using cocaine to help him write.   

[dancinginadaydream]

ANGSTY DRACO AND HARRY HEADCANONS ((TW))

so im writing this with caution. these are some *really* sad and possibly TRIGGERING headcanons for some. but they've been bouncing round my head for days (i fckn thrive on angst and sad shit) so i wanted to share.

triggering themes to be aware of before reading ARE:

alcohol abuse

drugs; cocaine misuse

eating disorders; anorexia

self-harm; cutting

suicidal ideations 

imprisonment 

hints at abuse

rough sex

if any of these topics trigger you, i urge you to use your own judgement and exercise caution. please do not read these headcanons if you fear they will trigger you and/or you cannot read things like this. i have given you all these warnings so they don't just appear out of the blue. I have added the keep reading option so that nobody sees them accidentally. The last thing I want is for people to be triggered by even having to scroll past and catching a glimpse of it. Please take care of your mental health! 

most of these are headcanons for draco because i just fckn love draco and think about his life more than any other characters. 

ive put a lot of thought into these. ofc i accept constructive criticism and would be happy for healthy debate if anyone disagrees with any of my hc's!  

DRACO MALFOY:

draco suffers from anorexia. as a slytherin, he desires control over situations (particularly his own). however, his entire life has essentially been mapped out for him and he has lost a lot of his control over his life. as a result of this, when he was around thirteen and had a little more control over his outward appearance, draco started to obsess over his body image. nothing was every quite right. he decided to take control over that and make it to his vision of perfect. so he didn't eat unless he absolutely had to, or he was in important company and his father told him he had to keep up appearances, and even then he would go for a jog and feel ultimately guilty for it afterwards. this ended up worsening during his sixth year of school. all draco wanted was to have some control and often it felt that the only control he truly had was his body image,

draco was imprisoned in azkaban for a year following the trials and the war. it doesn't sit right with me that the malfoys got it lightly, they still did wrong. but draco was only imprisoned for a few months to a year to set an example and to teach him a lesson. he then spent two years on probation/parole. of course he knew that he'd done wrong, he accepted the punishment and it nearly destroyed him,

following his imprisonment in azkaban, draco pretty much changed his entire perspective- he smeared the feared malfoy name according to his father. draco became an activist for muggles and muggleborns, supporting hermione in securing more rights for them. he had intense amounts of guilt for what happened and his imprisonment made him realise that. he had a lot of time to reflect on the man he knew he should become,

after azkaban, draco essentially looked like machine gun kelly. he got a nose piercing, he covered himself in tattoos (mainly to distract from the dark mark on his arm) and he tended to kick about in muggle clothes (like a baggy jumper, hoodies, skinny jeans, doc martens, converse etc). of course that would all settle down as his anger towards his father and family settled. it was an initial act of rebellion to what his family stood for that he didn't agree with,

despite trying to do good in the world and support hermione in her multitude of causes, draco was still haunted by the ideals he grew up with. so he turned to drug abuse, namely cocaine, to distract his mind and still feel a buzz instead of depression. the cocaine addiction also becomes part of his anorexia, leaving him without food because he feels he doesn't need it,

throughout school, draco was a self-harmer. he would cut his thighs to have some form of relief. the reasons for this were almost always depression, but were triggered by individual events such as; not getting a perfect score on an essay (fear of punishment from his father), the issues with his body image, the forceful nature of his parents, the rise of the dark lord, dealing with his sexuality (i see draco as exclusively gay, but tries to be heterosexual for his family's sake and that has a lot of issues within itself). the self-harm subsided after azkaban and when he'd discovered the effects of cocaine (which could be argued that his addiction to coke was in itself an act of self-harm).

basically, no one punishes draco more than himself for his role in the war

HARRY POTTER

harry's never had a normal, easy life. he's either been abused by his aunt and uncle, or he's been fighting the dark lord and his goonies for the entirety of his school career. so after the war, things are settled for him. he's famous, he's being handed things for free, he's got the job he wanted, but he's not happy. because most of his formative years he was constantly fighting to make the wizarding world a better place, the sudden calm and quiet post-war has caused him some major depression issues. this it not to say harry wasn't depressed and anxious before, it's merely been amplified post-war. after the war he experiences feelings of worthlessness and paranoia. he's both ready and not ready to fight again. the world isn't the same and he's not settling well into the new way of living, the calm. his feelings of worthlessness accumulate and harry's friends and family are essentially on suicide watch for a few years post-war. they're worried that harry is going to kill himself. not only is harry suffering with feelings of worthlessness, he has survivors guilt. so many people died in the war and he blames himself. he should have been the only death, in his opinion. he's stubborn so won't believe any of his friends when they say that it's not his fault they died. he's attempted suicide a few times when the survivor's guilt gets too much and due to this he cannot live alone, his friends always have someone with him,

harry becomes an alcoholic post-war. its his way of dealing with things. he rely's heavily on alcohol for the feeling of numbness. it started out, in his opinion, as harmless fun but he became reliant on it. it becomes a problem and on top of his  suicidal ideations, his friends are unbelievably worried. they eventually manage to get him into rehab and he becomes sober, but then he turns his self-depreciation onto something else,

sleeping with draco began as a way of releasing anger and sexual tension. they started sleeping with each other after meeting at a wizarding club - draco was coked out and harry was drunk (probably on something too). their sex started in club bathrooms, anywhere dirty and messy because they just didn't care. then when they eventually went somewhere with a bed (hotel room, one of their flats), the sex became angry and was extremely rough (choking, spanking, scratching, slapping, hair pulling). the type of sex they had was bordering destructive as a result of their pent up anger at the world and each other. but after both of them became sober from their addictions, they continued seeing each other and it blossomed into something special and caring. of course they still had rough sex, but they had plenty of aftercare instead of a rough fuck and go,

not entirely related to the headcanons, can be separated or go hand in hand, but transgender harry potter. imagine harry growing up known as "the girl who lived" and it caused a lot of dysphoria growing up in a world being reminded that he wasn't cisgendered. he came out and the majority of hogwarts was accepting (even draco, he may be a dick but not that much. he would stop bullying harry using she/her pronouns and then use he/him). imagine harry constantly being reminded that he was the girl who lived. after the war, they started coining him as the boy who lived, but there were still pockets of people who refused to accept him as trans.

basically, the reasons i have these headcanons is because i don't think draco or harry would be entirely okay afterwards. they suffered a lot of trauma in the years leading to, during, and post war. that would have massive effects on their mental health and there's no way they would continue being arrogant and cocky - internally at least. they could be that way externally as a result of their trauma, anger at the world, and the need to make people believe they haven't been affected as much.

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [1] {Ben Hardy}

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where ben is the reader’s ex and they are somehow working together on the set of bo rhap and they fall in love all over again ☺️ could you make it angst-y and then end with fluff? i love your writing so much!!

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where the reader is in bo rhap, maybe playing as one of roger’s gfs or something and she kind of falls in love with ben while filming the scenes with him as roger 💖 very fluffy pls :D

A/N: 3124 words. Super AU version of BoRhap being filmed in the fic. There’s gonna be another part, that will fill the prompts better. This might end up being a series. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be nice.

When your manager rings you, telling you that you’d landed a part in the Queen Biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, you were elated. Freddie Mercury was a bit of a personal hero of yours, and to be a part of his story on the big screen, it was sort of a dream come true. 

In your first meeting, you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re given the latest draft of the script to start learning, as well as a character brief. The script calls your character ‘Amanda’, the girlfriend of Roger Taylor who he eventually realises he wants to settle down with. You’d seen pictures of young Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t lie, you were excited for the role. Honestly, even today he was still quite a fox.

The point is, you were excited to have a fun time on set with a pretty blonde, make some new connections, and earn some good money. Some really good money.

The other shoe drops when you’re flicking through Instagram, and one of the stan accounts you follow has posted a leaked screenshot of the proposed cast list, and there’s your name, right beside the name of the last person you wanted to pretend to be in love with. Ben Hardy; pretty blonde extraordinaire, and your ex-boyfriend.

The table read is... awkward. 

The two of you are sat next to each other, and barely spoke two words to each other. You feel unprofessional the whole time, but you’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and the delivery of some of your lines falls a little flat. The director casts a concerned look between yourself and Ben as you rattle of what’s meant to be banter like you’re reading the news paper.

“They’ve got no damn chemistry; it’s like watching a celebrity divorce hearing.” When the Director vents to one of the producers in the hall outside after the reading, you manage to catch it where you’re just about to come out of the bathroom.

“They’ll be better on set, I promise, it’s just jitters.” She tries to soothe his nerves, and they’re off soon after, and you’re left with a cold, sinking sensation in your stomach.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you? How are you finding the set?” The guy who greets you on your first day on the Eastenders set smiles with such casual ease it feels like you’ve known him for a while, instead of having just met him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You agree with a quick nod, rocking back on your heels as you gaze around the space, trying not to look at him for too long. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” Actually, what’s overwhelming is that he’s talking to you. He’s Ben fucking Hardy, pretty-boy on the soap-opera scene, and he’s talking to you on your first day.

“Yeah, you’ll be right though; if you need any help or anything, just give us a yell, yeah?” And you realise he probably doesn’t know who you’re playing, or how you’re involved in that Season’s arc, but you certainly did.

“I didn’t know you could play drums.” You’re trying to be casual when you say it, but you see Ben tense where he’s sitting on a sofa in the rehearsal room, script and pencil in hand.

“I can now, that’s all that really matters.” He’s giving off such strong ‘please leave me alone’ vibes that it almost hurts, and you have to push through the knot in your stomach and sit down next to him.

“Ben, we need to at least be civil.” You say quietly, and he looks at you, expression a little forlorn.

“Y/N, we are civil, and we’ve done this before. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?” His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod in agreement with a small smile, and pull out your phone, waiting for the rehearsal director.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” You purr, running your hand delicately over the collar of Ben’s shirt, as his eyes widened and he spluttered to form a sentence, just as the script had told him to. 

Your character was more a plot device than anything, when Ben’s character is at a low point, his main romance is on a break, and he meets you, a temptress in all black. Your job is to give his character a realisation, he starts as your cocaine dealer when his supplier can’t make the drop, and he falls for you. Depending on the audience reaction, you knew the producers were waiting to see if they kill you off or have you recover from your addiction. The point is, your fate’s uncertain at the end of the Season, and Ben’s character realises he has to get out of the drug trade.

“I’ve got something for you, from Oskar. Can we go somewhere more private?” When he speaks, it’s with surprising confidence, and he steps up from the bar stool and into your space, smiling as your face lights up. The director calls cut after a moment, and you step back, smile sliding to something genuine as an assistant comes in and straightens your loose, black silk shirt, and they reset the shot for a new take.

“Ben, could you try less flustered? You’re here to deliver drugs, you’re not a schoolboy.” The director’s voice was kind as she came up to the two of you, and Ben agreed easily before she turned to you. “Great job, Y/N, don’t be afraid to be more even more forward, if you feel it.” As soon as you nod in understanding, she absconds, and you half laugh.

“If I was any more forward I’d be in your lap.” You snickered, voice quiet as you dipped your head to hide how you were faintly flustered. Ben was quiet, just watching you for a moment, but before you noticed, the director called for everyone to standby.

“I’m after Maggie, do you know where I could find her?” Ben starts as soon as the cameras start rolling, brow furrowed as he leans across the bar to speak to the bartender, and that’s your cue to enter the scene.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” And when you say it this time, he smirks back at you, a little cocky, and you can feel the way it makes your heart flutter and you know it��s not as fake as it should be.

Before filming even starts, the producers have essentially forced you and Ben into bonding sessions which, if this were several years ago, would have just been dates. Now they’re awkward and tense, and you tend to bring heavily highlighted scripts.

“I saw you in that Wes Anderson movie last year. It was a really good performance, one of your best.” He offers over coffee. The idea that he’d kept up with enough of your work to label one ‘your best’ has you a little shocked, and something in your heart warms as you thank him softly.

It’s gotten easier to hang around with him, and it’s even easier to pretend to be in love with him in rehearsals. It’s like riding a bike, how easy it is to let yourself smile and lean into him, to let the banter flow easily between the two of you, fond jabs that edge on insulting coming as easily as breathing.

Joe mentions that he thought the two of you worked together before, and when you reply that you’d dated for almost a year, he goes very quiet, eyes going wide. After a beat, he admits it explains a lot.

“X-Men did you real dirty.” You’re half paying attention to an interview with Roger Taylor that the two of you had been instructed to watch together. You’re both in his trailer, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as you watch in almost complete silence.

“What?” He asks, after a beat, your words having taken a moment to process.

“Killing you off like that; they could have gotten so much mileage out of your character.” The way you say it is far too well thought out to be an idle thought. Ben smirked.

“You just liked the leather pants.” He muttered, but you’re silence is answer enough. You know he sees your embarrassed smile, but you can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“Hey, do you wanna grab a drink after and go through notes and blocking and stuff?” You’re shooting your third episode, and you’re far more comfortable on set by now. Agreeing easily, you let Ben drive the two of you to what he claims is the best pub in town, and you sit in one of the more secluded booths to talk.

It turns out he’s just as much a fan of you as you are of him; you’re known more for your bit-parts in long-running series, it seems like the only show you hadn’t been a part of so far had been Eastenders, it was only a matter of time. It’s an innocent night, true to his word, all you do is talk, and discuss the script. There is one part of the upcoming script that has you a bit nervous. 

“Listen, honestly just go for it; it’s not meant to be sweet or anything, I’m literally taking coke from you.” You tell him, fidgeting, and he’s hums thoughtfully.

“You sure? We can talk to the director, I’m sure-” He offers, but you laugh to hide your nervousness.

“Nah, let’s knock it out of the park, the script says go for it so just go for it.” You assured him, heart rate already quickening at the mere thought of it. 

The next day, before the scene, the director comes over to talk you through it, making sure that if anything becomes uncomfortable, that you can talk to her. Both you and Ben assure her that it’s fine.

“You’re far too cute for this line of work.” You say as you hold a baggie of “cocaine” up to the light, smile playing on your lips.

“Cute? Ouch, you really know how to wound a man, you know.” He says, leaning back against the sofa in the hallway of the grubby hotel your character was staying in. He’s watching you with interest, small smile playing on his lips.

“Cute’s not a bad thing, baby, but you look like you should be making coffees or playing football in the sun, not here, not with me.” And you tap out a little of the powder onto your hand, pretending to snort it before you turn to him, his expression dark and hungry, and he kisses you, aggressive, almost desperate, and you lean into it, almost forget you’re playing a role with his hand on the back of your neck. When he lets go, when he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and you chase his lips for a moment. Eyes flickering open, you see him smirking down at you where he’s standing, and you both know it wasn’t entirely acting.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He growls, and you know you have to smile like you’re into it, like it’s a challenge, but instead, you duck your gaze, giving a small laugh and wiping at the nostril you’d just “snorted cocaine” through, before looking up at him through your eyelashes.

They call cut, and the director announces, almost a little awed, that she’s pretty sure they got the the take, actually says she’s not sure if she could getting a better take if they tried again. Ben seems far too pleased with himself. 

“They want us to tell the public we’re together.” You’re resting your head on Ben’s chest laying at the back of the tour-bus set, and his hand is resting on your waist, which is bare for the crop top and booty shorts they’ve put you in.

“Yeah, I heard.” He replies, voice equally quiet. “I think we’ve got a meeting about it tomorrow morning.” Gwil and Rami are actually playing scrabble at the front of the bus, and Joe is talking to Singer, the director.

“It’s a bad idea.” You’re so frank that you feel Ben freeze, and you heave a sigh. “It’s good for the movie, but Ben...” You trail off, and you feel it when he forces himself to relax. “It wouldn’t be real, it would just be weird.”

“Y/N, we’re actors.” He says very pointedly, and when you turn, resting your chin on his chest, he looks tired, a little exasperated. “It’s just a business deal.” He assured, and you let out a low, thoughtful grumble. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” You allow, and he nods once, shifting to a more comfortable position, and you go back to resting your head on his chest, eyes fluttering closed as Singer called for the shot to be reset and a bunch of people came and straightened your clothes, and touched up your makeup, all without you having to move much.

You agree to the terms set forth in the meeting easily, the story being that your relationship rekindled on set, and that you were now madly in love, mirroring the relationship you were portraying on screen.

“Wait, does that mean-?” Ben leans forward in his chair, with his heart in his throat as he followed their logic, thinking through the plot of the movie. “Like engaged?” He asked.

“Seems a bit fast.” You agreed, voice level enough that someone might mistake you for calm rather than internally freaking out, and your managers shared a look.

“There will be a public proposal during or after the world premiere, that’s up to you both, and after the movie is out on DVD, you can go your separate ways.” They assured, but your mouth fell open.

“You know he left me for X-Men, right?” You splutter, and Ben’s eyes widen as he turns to you with a scoff.

“You’re the one who said the distance was too much for us while I was in Cairo.” He snapped, and you threw your hands in the air.

“I was offering to come and stay with you instead, but you said you were too busy!” That was enough to shut him up, his mouth snapping closed as he turned away sharply, huffing out a resigned sigh.

“We have a few brands and restaurants who are interested in sponsoring, and the producers are willing to increase both your salaries if you go through with it for the full duration.” Your manager informed you both carefully, and you and Ben shared a resigned look.

“Fake intend to marry me for like three months?” He asked, voice low and bitter, and after heaving a long sigh, you look to your managers,

“Fine.”

“I think I love you.” Ben’s character shows up at your character’s door, and you open it in a silk robe. 

“Hello to you too.” You laughed, but he’s so serious, so sincere, and when he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer anything else, you step up to him, pressing your lips to his, and he wraps his arms around you, hands sliding against the silk over your hips, and you pull back.

“You’re too sweet for me, baby,” voice so low it’s barely a whisper, he’s the one who chases your lips this time, but your catch his chin, and his eyes open. 

“You’re high.” He says softly, voice raw and a little desperate.

“And you’re my dealer.” You push him back gently, going to close the door and his expression turns angry.

“That doesn’t mean anything; I love you, Maggie.” His words hang heavily in the air, but before you can respond, they call for cut. You’re told to play it more like it hurts to try and turn him down, and you agree, smiling and nodding all the while. Everyone sets up for another take and you close the door.

When you kiss him this time, his hands are holding your face, and you’ve got your arms around his neck, and it’s like the world falls away from around you. It’s not acting now, hasn’t been for weeks, almost months now, not since he’d asked you out officially. Every time you kiss him you’re desperate to drown in his embrace, and he kisses you like it’s just the two of you, no cameras, no scripts.

“You’re-” and he cuts you off with another quick kiss, which has you laughing a little sadly, “Peter you’re too sweet for me.” He rests his forehead against yours, heaving a sigh.

“I know you’re high.” He says gently, and you don’t push him away this time, just lean back, your finger lifting his chin.

“And you’re my dealer.” You tell him, expression falling.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that doesn’t matter; I love you.” And you know that in that moment, the words mean so much more than the script, than these characters, than the show; he loves you. Ben loves you.

You avoid him, outside of filming, until you actually get a call from your manager telling you you’re contractually obligated to be seen in public together at least once a week. Even while filming you’re short with him, and he’s quick to get away from you the moment he doesn’t need to be around you, which was getting to be pretty bad, seeing as how you had been blocking a sex scene.

After the call, you and Ben get a drink. It’s awkward at first, though that’s unsurprising. After a long sip of his beer, he pats his thighs where he’s sitting in the armchair across from you. You make a face at him, shaking your head. 

“It’ll look less suspicious than if we’re shouting at each other across the table.” He hissed, and you groaned, obliging and crossing to sit yourself in his lap. He’s warm and secure, and he wraps his arm around you like it’s second nature. “Let’s not make this weird.” He said gently, and you nod.

“As for tomorrow’s shoot,” you said softly, leaning in to make sure no-one else heard, and he nodded, humming softly, “we’re professionals, and,” after a beat you cleared your throat pointedly, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Not in front of a camera crew we haven’t.” Ben says with a smirk, and you snicker in agreement. “It’s gonna go fine; this is all gonna go fine, I promise.” And when you raise your eyebrows at him in surprised question, he just laughs softly, and brings you in for a chaste kiss. “It’s only until the DVD’s released.” He assures you, and you let your expression fall, already weary.

“Ben, that’s over a year away.”