#I didn’t even vote for a hard days night!!!! I just get ok!!!! because I have love in my heart and all these songs are my children and I

[beatlesbracket]

I know everything is jokes but if you’re going to be in the tags acting like you don’t understand how someone could possibly vote against your fave then you don’t really get it :-)

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfic - Trophy Room

Words: 983

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

James had dragged them all down to the trophy room the day after the Quidditch Cup final, just so they could see his name on a shiny trophy. Sirius had told him the day before, that he’d already seen James’ name written on a lot of things, so he didn’t see the point. Upon seeing that James was a little hurt by that, he promised to go with them and ooh and ahh in all the right places. Pete was keen to go the whole time and Remus would obviously drag himself away from the book he was currently engrossed in, just to make James happy.

It turned out to be fairly anticlimactic. It was just the quidditch cup trophy he'd seen hundreds of times, now with ‘Gryffindor 1976’ written on it, but the shield, declaring James as captain of the winning team, among the shields of decades of prior winners, was pretty cool.

“It’s kind of weird how there are sports trophies, but there’s no art trophies, or congrats you’re really adept at herbology trophies. Or even kindness or bravery trophies. Why do we only give out trophies for sport?” James met Remus’ eye as Sirius continued. “Would it be so terrible for Dumbledore to announce the person with the best grades each year, or, I don’t know, the person who brewed the best potion?” He paused, “why are you looking at me like that? This is a great idea!”

“You’re not wrong.” Remus admitted, “It’s just unrealistic. We'd be there for hours.”

“Well fine, if Dumbledore won’t do it, I will!”

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

“Thank you for attending the Hogwarts alternative awards ceremony!” Sirius bowed slightly, “Tonight each of you will walk away with at least one award, and you’re gonna feel great about it! A reminder that these have been voted for by your peers, and it’s not just my opinion, because some of these choices are truly wild.”

“If you keep plying us with firewhisky, I doubt that we’ll feel great for much longer,” Remus said quietly, earning himself a glare from Sirius.

“Ok, the first award is ‘Best at potions’ and it goes to… Lily Evans!”

Lily rolled her eyes and collected the small trophy from Sirius. She then won ‘best at hexes’, which James confirmed enthusiastically.

“Best sportsmanship could only go to James!”

As the evening went on, Marlene and Dorcas won ‘cutest couple’, Marlene won ‘baddest bitch’ (to Sirius’ dismay), Mary won ‘most artistic’ and ‘kindest to creatures’, Pete won ‘Handy herbologist’ and ‘best at chess’, Lily won ‘best grades’ and Sirius won ‘best hair’.

James got out their emergency firewhisky stash, which didn’t matter as there was only a week of term left anyway. He was then awarded a spur-of-the-moment ‘best provider’ by Sirius personally.

The alcohol was hitting all of them pretty hard. Sirius sat on his trunk to continue presenting.

“Ok, the next award is ‘hottest person (that you’ve never dated)’, and the winner is… Remus.”

Remus stared at him, “uh, the fuck?” He said, eloquently. He gestured for Sirius to throw his award to him. Getting up felt difficult. “Uh, thanks?”

James wolf-whistled as Remus’ cheeks went pink. The next award was ‘most books read’ which also, unsurprisingly, went to Remus.

And the final award of the night is ‘kindest person’, and that award goes to…” Sirius rolled his eyes, “who else? Moony!”

Remus covered his face with his hands. He was officially too drunk for people to be this nice to him. “Thank you.” He muttered.

“This concludes the 1976 alternative awards night, please feel free to stay and drink and make an arse of yourself, at least until Moony wants to go to bed, then you have to fuck off.” Sirius took a small bow and then plonked himself on the floor next to Remus. “Alright?”

Remus chuckled softly, “Yeah, a bit drunk and overwhelmed but in a nice way.”

“Because people have recognised that you read books and that you’re kind and hot?”

“I guess?” Remus resisted the urge to cover his face again. “This was a great idea, by the way. We should do this next year, too.”

“Yeah? Alright, but I’ll probably need a cohost.” He fluttered his long eyelashes at Remus.

“I’m sure Prongs will make a delightful cohost.” He said with a wolfish grin. “But I suppose if you want me, I could probably do that.”

Sirius froze, “If I— Oh, cohost, right. Yeah.”

“Alright?” Remus frowned, “You’ve gone all pale.”

“I might need some air,” Sirius said quickly, heading toward the window. Remus pulled himself to his feet and followed.

Sirius opened the window and sat on the ledge with his back against the wall, Remus mirrored his position, their legs tangled together in the middle. Sirius pulled out his cigarettes, lit one between his lips, passed it to Remus, and then lit one himself.

“Why do you get all weird when people call you hot?” Sirius said after a while.

“Fuck, straight in with the tough questions tonight.” Remus grimaced. “I suppose deep down I don’t believe it.” He said quietly. Sirius could barely hear him over the party in the middle of their dorm. “Not in a self-pitying way or anything, I just don’t see what other people see, I guess.”

Sirius stared at him, “I guess you don’t.” He frowned slightly, “It goes beyond hot, Moons.” Remus’ eyes snapped up to meet his. “You’re beaut—”

“Not interrupting anything I hope!” James interrupted. “The girls want to play games and Pete and I feel very outnumbered.” He took a closer look at his friends both with and over his glasses. “Oh shit, did I actually interrupt something?”

“No!” Sirius flicked his cigarette out of the window, hopped off the windowsill and sat back on the floor. Remus followed him and sat a little closer than he had been before, their hands touching on the rug.

Notes:

I got halfway through this and was like 'Chloe, this is ridiculous' and then I just... kept on writing 😂💕🌙✨

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- The End Of The X-Factor Journey

2010

Part 6

We stand side by side, Simon stood behind his with his hands on Liam and Zayns shoulders

“Ok here it goes. The public have voted and I’m about to reveal the 2 acts that have received the most votes and will go head to head. Good luck to everyone. In no particular order the first act through the next stage of the final, is…. Matt” Harry takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze “the next act still in the final is…. Rebecca” and with that we come 3rd. We head over to Matt and Rebecca to hug them both and congratulate them when Dermot asks for us to come back “guys I can see by your faces that your gutted, but how’s this experience been for you? What are the highlights”

“It’s been absolutely incredible. The highlight for me was when we first sang together with YN and you know what we’ve worked hard and done our absolute best” Louis says into the mic

“Zayn, what’s going to happen with One Direction?”

“Errr we’re definitely going to stay together, this isn’t the last of One Direction”

And Zayn was right, because that night Simon offended us a record deal with Syco even though we didn’t win. Obviously we said yes, excited to work on an album together.

The following day I arrive back home in Shrewsbury. Shutting the taxi door behind me my front door opens and out runs Emma. I run over to her and hug her tightly

“I missed you”

“Missed you too” we stay like that for a few more seconds before she helps me with my bags and we walk into the house together

“Dad!” I run over to him and hug him

“Well done. You did do well”

“Thank you” I pull away and look around the room “where’s James?” I ask frowning

“He said he’ll be here later” Emma says “so tell us are you going to make music with the boys?”

“I don’t know how much I can say, but yes. We are going to be making music. Just hope it does well”

“I’m sure it will. Now let’s get some food into you, you’ve gotta be hungry”

“Starving!” I yell laughing.

“Hi guys” I smile waving at the screen in front of me with my dog sat on my lap

“When are you coming?” Liam asks sat in a hotel room with the others. Simon asked us to start writing in America and so they all got a flight 2 days ago, but mine got cancelled

“Me and dad are getting a flight in 2 days”

“Simon wants us to start writing as soon as we can” Zayn says

“I know. Why don’t we throw around some ideas now?” my bedroom door opens and my dad brings me over a cup of tea “thank you”

“We may as well” Niall shrugs

“I have a few notes in my book hang on. Cookie down” I tell my dog, but as soon as she’s on the floor she starts whining

“Cookie is so needy” Harry laughs

“Like you?” Liam chuckles. I roll my eyes and open my suit case and rummage around for my note book

“Hey I’m not needy”

“I beg to differ” I say “YN can you play with my hair? I want a hug” I laugh walking back to my bed and sitting down. Cookie jumps back into my lap

“Hey havin’ someone play with ya hair is very relaxing”

“I’m not saying it isn’t, but I seem to be doing it every time we’re together. Any way let’s get to writing some lyrics”

[eff4freddie]

2 Sweet 4 Me | Epilogue

Dieter Bravo x AFAB Reader Words: 800 Warnings: None

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

A/N: Ok I couldn't leave these two where they were at the end of part three. I did say it was a love story. And I do think Dieter's come to a better place as a result of it. That's a happy ending, right?

Dieter shivered. He didn’t like LA, always found the place so phony, too constructed, but fuck if he didn’t prefer the weather. He pulled his jacket tight over his shoulders, holding it closed at the neck as he moved through the hotel lobby. He could see Rudy waiting, holding the front passenger door open for him, could see the paparazzi and the autograph hunters lining up for a piece of him. Dieter sighed. He’d taken that job you’d recommended, that little indie project with an up-and-coming director, and he’d accidentally resurrected his career with it. Prep was underway for awards season. He was exhausted by it already.

As he got into the car he waved to the fans out on the street, laughed when they screamed at him. As Rudy pulled away from the curb he settled in, letting the seat warmers ease his joints a little.

‘One day, Rudy, I’m gonna be the one driving,’ he said, and Ruby grinned at him.

‘Oh, don’t pretend you don’t love being a little passenger princess,’ Rudy playfully griped at him, and Dieter rolled his eyes.

‘I dunno man, it just feels a bit like I want to take the wheel in a few different ways,’ Dieter said, liking the metaphor. Rudy was quiet, watching the road.

He was heading to a screening, then a short Q&A afterwards, in a little theatre off Broadway that had maybe 150 seats. It was one of those intimate settings, SAG or whatever. Maybe Julliard. He couldn’t remember, they’d blurred together. This one was going to be industry people though, 150 of his peers and colleagues, some of them with voting rights. He was mostly going as part of the ensemble. He liked those, as it turned out. Less pressure on him.

He thought about you. Even though it had been months since you’d last been together, since he’d texted, sent you a handful of rambling voice notes, he still scanned every crowd for your face. Couldn’t help it, didn’t want to stop doing it, even though it hurt him he still preferred it to not hoping. He’d never been an optimist. Except when it came to you.

There had been one time a few weeks back, at the Arclight of all places, that he’d seen you. You had your hair up, and your date-night boots on, and he’d felt his stomach drop a little at the thought of it. Maybe it wasn’t you, it was just someone as beautiful as you, maybe he was pining so hard he’d started hallucinating you. He could see you were waiting for someone, but Dieter couldn’t stand around long enough to see who.

For a second, he’d imagined it was him. That you’d heard he was going to a matinee of Rashomon, that maybe you’d come out to catch the glimpse of him he was now enjoying of you. Or maybe you were waiting for him because he’d called you, and you’d answered this time, and because you’d agreed to meet him, to dip your toe back in. Maybe you were dressed up in your date boots because you knew that he would know what it meant, that this wasn’t a friend thing, that this was something else entirely. Maybe you were waiting for him to wrap you up in his arms, bundle you into the back of an uber and take you home, finally, home.  

Now, in the car with Rudy, he contemplated his own selfishness. Sober sober - not just LA sober - for the first time in a long time he remembered with better clarity the way he had hurt you, lied to you, tried to hide the ugly, dark sides of himself from you even when all you’d wanted was to stand alongside him in them. His sixth therapist had a couple of ideas why that might have been the case. He wanted to talk to you about them, get your thoughts, and knew that, too, was just selfishness.

Rudy pulled up to the theatre, just as it started to snow. He knew it was better this way for you. That this way you had a fighting chance at a future, at a family. But still, Dieter wondered if you would emerge in the backrow, pop up in New York somehow, drop in from some other industry event into this one. Just to see him, just to let him know you were there. Dieter knew it was impossible, and also, didn’t care. He wondered in that moment if you regretted things, felt a stab in his chest at the idea that you might. He wondered if you ever pined for him, reached out across a cold bed and felt for him. He wondered if you ever scanned the crowds looking for him, if he wanted you to, if he wanted that for you.

He wondered if he would ever be the kind of man he wanted to be, the one that finally put you first, your happiness, what you needed. If that would be enough to hold him. Wondered if wanting you, missing you, loving you still, if that was all it would be for him, if that would be enough. He schooled his features, prepared to swing the door open and step out. Decided, in the absence of any information to the contrary, that it would.  

Taglist: @harriedandharassed

@readingiskeepingmegoing

@missladym1981

@misstokyo7love

@ghostofzion

@dieterbravobrainrotclub

@the-feckless-wonder

@swankyorange

[spnexploration]

Collared part 30

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean tries to teach you to use an angel blade.

Warnings: none particularly

Word count: 1.4k

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 29 <- -> Part 31

“Are you still looking for Azaneth?” you asked the next morning at breakfast, sitting on your cushion on the floor.

“Yes,” Dean answered honestly. “Something on your mind?”

“Umm, I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Sweetheart, I ain't intending for you to see him unless he's safely restrained. We don't need to put you through that again.”

You nodded. “I, umm, I’d still like to know.”

He studied your face for a second. He wondered if your hesitation was because you were worried about his reaction, worried about Azaneth, or something else. Then he thought that maybe it was just because you were asking for something for yourself, which always seemed hard for you. “Ok, I’ll teach you.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

---

Dean took you to the gym. “Alright, this is an angel blade. Kills angels and demons. Maybe some other stuff too, but that’s not the point. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He handed it to you, handle first. “Alright, swish it around a little, get a feel for the weight.” You did so, and immediately dropped it. It clattered to the floor. You squealed and jumped back, trying to avoid cutting off your own toes. “Christ,” he muttered.

“Sorry, the handle was slippery!”

 “It’s called a hilt, not a handle. Maybe we should start with something a little less sharp or you’re going to end up with no feet. I’ll be back, gonna see if we have practice daggers or something.”

He eventually came back with two plastic kids toy swords. “These are from a time we had to dress up and sneak into a Halloween party. We’ll have to find something a bit weightier another time, but for now we can practise some moves.”

He taught you a few basic blocking moves, but you could tell you weren’t very good. You felt dispirited, depressed that you couldn’t even hold a blade much less wield one.

“Hey, hey,” Dean interrupted your thoughts. “None of that. I can see you getting all up in your head. You’re not doing badly, you’re just not used to it. You do not go to one swimming lesson and the next minute bring home a Michael Phelps medal haul from the Olympics. Same thing for ganking monsters.”

You smiled weakly, appreciating his attempts at humour but struggling to get out of your emotions.

“Come on, Bambi, I’ll let you pick what’s for dinner.”

---

You had to expect it. You’d been the one to bring up Azaneth that day, after all. So when the nightmares came again that night, you only had yourself to blame.

You shivered in your blanket on the floor. You couldn’t shake the image of him towering over you, ready to strike. Even better, now your subconscious had helpfully added the imagery of you dropping the angel blade the instant you held it. Thanks for the vote of confidence, self.

You tried to lie down again, but every time you closed your eyes you saw him. You were so very alone.

Tears sprung to your eyes.

You thought about your options. You didn’t want to go drinking again. That hadn’t really helped last time anyway. Dean had told you to wake him up if you had a nightmare, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of doing it. It was too embarrassing, too personal, too… much.

You gathered your blanket and pillow and headed to the corridor. You needed to be able to hear them, to feel less alone.

You found your spot in front of Dean’s door. You could hear his light snoring, his movement. It was reassuring, there was someone else around. Someone who knew exactly how to fight demons.

You curled up and fell asleep.

---

Sam turned down the corridor to his room and stopped in his tracks. You were curled up, with a blanket and pillow, against Dean’s door. His heart broke for you.

He crept back around the corner and pulled out his phone, quickly pulling up Dean on the speed dial.

“Wasswrong?” Dean slurred after the second ring. Sam heard the faint click of a gun and knew Dean was getting ready to come charging out.

“Shh,” Sam said. “It’s nothing dangerous.”

“Ok. Why’d you wake me up then?”

“Y/N is asleep outside your door.”

“What?”

“She’s curled up, on the floor. Against your door. I think she’s done it before, I’ve seen her going into her room with a blanket first thing in the morning before.”

“Oh man, poor kid. Alright, thanks.”

---

Dean put his gun back under his pillow, his phone on the bedside table, and then crossed quietly to the door. He gently eased it open, not sure if you’d be leaning against it, but it didn’t feel any heavier.

You looked so peaceful in your sleep, but it was heartbreaking that you were doing so on the floor in the corridor. Something must’ve upset you to bring you out here. He wished you felt comfortable enough to just wake him up when you were upset, instead of trying to find your own coping mechanisms. Still, he’d take finding you sleeping in weird places over finding you drunk at 8:30am.

He crouched down and gently touched your shoulder. “Heya, Bambi,” he said quietly.

Your eyes flew open. He dropped his hand, worried at the panicked look on your face.

“Sorry for waking you up, but it’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re ok.”

You seemed to take a deep breath and then nodded, the wild look in your eyes gone now that you had worked out he was no threat.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” You bit your lip and looked at the ground. He guessed you were embarrassed. “It’s ok, I just want to make sure you’re ok.” You still didn’t respond. “Was it another nightmare?”

You nodded, once.

“Does it make you feel better to sleep out here rather than in your room?”

You nodded again.

“Do you want to come sleep in my room? Or in Sammy’s?” You brought your knees to your chest and buried your head in them. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’m sorry if I scared you, but I thought it might be better than sleeping in the corridor.”

You paused, and then gave a tiny nod.

“Ok, you nod for which one you want. Sammy’s room? My room?” You nodded slightly when he said his room. “Ok sweetheart, let’s get you set up. We can make this more comfy than a blanket on the floor.”

He quickly went to your room and gathered some of the bedding he’d put in there for you, bringing it back to his room. “Now, just because I moved this stuff doesn’t mean you have to stay in here. If at any point you want me to move it back, or take it to Sam’s, or take it anywhere else in the bunker, you just tell me. You can wake me up if you need. I won’t mind at all.”

You trailed after him into his room, clutching your pillow to your chest. The blanket dangled down onto the floor from where it was clutched in one hand. He wanted to gather you in his arms and hug you, but he wasn’t sure you wanted that, and he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already were.

“Do you want to be closer to the door or further away?” You nodded to further away, so he took your bedding the other side of his bed. He set it all up for you, trying to make it as comfortable as possible.

“Is that ok?”

You nodded again, before saying very quietly, “Thank you.”

“Any time, sweetheart. Now, if my snoring annoys you, or if anything at all happens, you wake me up, ok?”

You seemed hesitant to move, so he turned around and started to climb back into bed, hoping that you’d be more confident without him watching your every move. It worked. Once you seemed settled in your bedding, he asked, “Do you want me to leave the lamp on or turn it off?”

“Off, please,” you mumbled.

“Ok, good night, Bambi.”

---

You lay in the dark, listening to Dean’s breathing. You felt so much better to be in here, with him between you and the door and his reassuring sounds that you weren’t alone.

You drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

.

.

.

Tag list:

@malindacath

@stoneyggirl2

@iprobablyshipit91

@tiggytaylor

@ellie-andthemachine

@muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@kazsrm67

@foxyjwls007

@sassy-pelican

@saiyanprincessswanie

@sojuxxi

@ilovedean-spn2

@lacilou

@agirlwithdemonblood

@rachiem4-blog

@miss-madness67

@iamsapphine

@where-the-river-bends

@globetrotter28

@skybunnybaby

@icequeen1371

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 146: Politics of the Heart

Wednesday night in Tamotsuyama, Jun and Yuine were getting ready to turn in for the night. Yuine was in bed reading a book, when Jun finished changing into his pajamas. He slumped into bed and sighed slightly. Yuine took notice. “What’s on your mind dear?”

Jun turned to his wife. “Are you asking because you don’t know?”

“Oh Jun honey,” Yuine said, placing a bookmark in her book and putting it down. “I’m your wife. I know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Hm. Figures,” Jun replied. He sighed again. “I know we made a promise. But this feels like too good an opportunity to not take. Maybe the people will listen. Maybe I can do something.”

“Well, I think you should go for it,” Yuine replied. Jun was a little surprised. “Like you said, it’s a good opportunity.”

“But…” Jun said. “But we agreed I wouldn’t until both Sasa and Ren were out of the house.”

“Well look around,” Yuine challenged. “It’s just us.”

“Well, Ren’s just on probation…” Jun lamented. “Once that’s up…”

“Sweetie,” Yuine interrupted. “Do you think she’s coming back? If she is, it won’t be all of her. Her heart is in Tokyo.” Jun still wanted to deny it. Yuine placed her hand on his. “Remember what you told me the day the massage parlor was given to me?”

Jun smiled. “Of course. ‘You have the same smile as the day we got married.’”

“I saw Ren with that smile when we visited Tokyo,” Yuine said. “And don’t tell me you didn’t see it either. Apparently, you’re better at reading our children than I am.”

“Oh, that wasn’t a read,” Jun said. “I had overheard her talking to herself about it in her room.”

“Oh,” Yuine said. “I see. Well, either way, I know you saw it too.”

Jun smirked. “Of course I saw it. But I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I know it’s hard,” Yuine said. “Even when Sasa left after graduating high school, it was hard. Ren leaving before graduating, well… But it’s the right thing to do. I don’t pride myself on being selfish, you know.”

“Of course not,” Jun said. “Having said that, I think you deserve a little reward.” He gave Yuine a kiss on the cheek.

Yuine giggled. “Oh you.”

Jun smiled and sighed once more. “I guess I’m going for it.”

“Well, you know you have my vote,” Yuine said.

“Of course,” Jun replied. “Well good night.”

“Good night,” Yuine replied. They turned off their light and went to sleep.

The next day, Jun was on his break at work. He found a secretive place, and took out his phone. He dialed a number and called it.

Yoshida was preparing his next campaign speech when his phone went off. He answered. “Hello?”

“Hi,” Jun answered back. “It’s me, Jun: Ren’s father.”

“Oh of course, hello!” Yoshida said with enthusiasm.

“Listen…” Jun siad. He was still a little hesitant. “I want to ask you about running for the Diet.”

“Wha?!” Yoshida replied.

“I know,” Jun said. “It’s a little outrageous, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do. And since there’s a new election coming up, I feel like I could really try.”

“I see,” Yoshida said. “But why are you calling me?”

“Well…” Jun said “You’re the only person I know who is running for the Diet besides my potential opponent, and I don’t think he’d be willing to help me.”

Yoshida chuckled. “Of course. However, I’m not sure how much I could help you.”

“Oh…” Jun said, dejected.

“However,” Yoshida kept going, “I think I know someone who can help.”

“Really?” Jun wondered.

“Of course,” Yoshida answered. “Are you familiar with Dietman Matsushita?”

“Of course!” Jun answered. “I think he’s an exemplary politician.”

“As do I,” Yoshida said. “The two of us have been rekindling our friendship recently. I can give you his information, and you can talk with him.”

Jun left out a hardy breath. “Wow. OK. Yeah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Yoshida chuckled.

“Hey, how’s Ren been by the way?” Jun asked.

“Are you not checking in with her?” Yoshida asked.

“I am,” Jun said. “But you can never be too careful.”

“Of course,” Yoshida said. “Well, Ren is doing just wonderful.”

“Music to my ears,” Jun said.

Yoshida had a thought. “Say,” he began, “this is going to sound crazy, but if Ren had the ability to help someone, do you think she would?”

“Hm?” Jun responded. “That is odd. But to answer, sometimes she’ll do so even if she didn’t have the ability to.”

“Right,” Yoshida said. “I’m sorry. Something’s been on my mind, and I can’t quite shake it. It’s nthing bad, mind you. Just something...”

“I see...Well, if you’re concerned, I think just talking with her honestly is the best way to go,” Jun said.

“Of course,” Yoshida said. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for watching over Ren,” Jun replied. “And for helping me connect with Dietman Mastusita.”

“Of course,” Yoshida said. “Speaking of…” he gave Jun Matsushita’s contact information. “Just tell him Yoshida sent you.”

“Thanks,” Jun responded.

“Thank you,” Yoshida said. They both hung up.

Jun then dialed Matsushita’s number. “Hello?...I was told to contact you by Mr. Yoshida…”

Meanwhile, Yoshida took out a note he was working on. It read “Ren-Phantom Thief?” The note had things on it, such as “Goes to the school where the first incident took place. Feels society needs to change. Drawn to people in need of help. Brave, but cautious. Is also an underdog.” Yoshida looked through this note some more, and with the information he got from her father, he felt more convinced that was the case.

He sighed. “Well, I’m glad this didn't need to happen the hard way.” He skulked. “Although what comes next is going to be hard in itself. But I’ve made it this far. I can’t betray my ideals now And neither can she.” He went back to working on his speech.

[hrtiu]

i couldn’t find anything written for these two online so i thought i’d give it a shot! this is katy x shang-chi. what should their ship name be? i vote for shaunty. continue if you love friends-to-lovers 🥰

For Katy, the weirdest part about coming home after nearly dying and saving the world from a soul-sucking monster was realizing that she needed to find a new job.

“You could always apply to be an archery instructor at that place in Golden Gate Park,” Shaun said, looking over her shoulder at her laptop.

“Yeah, I don’t think my three days of experience will look very good on the resume,” Katy said, balancing the laptop on her thighs as she sat cross-legged on his bed.

“You could always put, ‘fired the shot that saved the universe,’” Shaun said. He leaned just a little too far into Katy’s space for comfort. “What should matter are results, right?”

“Ha ha,” Katy said, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d already inquired with the place and they weren’t hiring.

It had been like this since they’d gotten back from Ta Lo. Just… a little off. How was she supposed to act around her friend after going through an experience like this? How was she supposed to act after discovering a whole new side to someone she’d thought she knew so well? How was she supposed to breathe around Shaun now that she knew what he looked like with his shirt off?

Katy caught Shaun’s eye in the mirror of her laptop screen and swallowed, slamming the laptop shut before she or it combusted. It was all getting to be a bit much.

“Is everything alright?” Shaun asked from somewhere behind her.

Katy nodded, Shaun’s garage studio suddenly stifling despite the constant San Francisco temperature of 60 degrees outside. “Yeah, I’m just… I think I’ll maybe look again tomorrow.”

Shaun moved around the back of his bed and sat next to Katy, his thigh touching her knee. “Come on, Katy. What’s up? It couldn’t possibly be any weirder than the stuff I’ve told you recently.”

“Plenty of room at the Hotel California…” Katy started humming, her hand tapping against her leg in time to the music.

Shaun grabbed her hand and tugged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Come on, you know that only works on idiots.”

“Well then it should have worked on you.”

Shaun frowned, then rested his other hand on top of the one he was already holding, his thumb sliding soothingly back and forth across her skin. “Seriously, Katy. Are you alright?”

Katy bit her lip and looked down at their connected hands. “It’s this!” she burst out, jerking her chin towards their hands. “Since when did we do this?”

Shaun let go of her hand and scooted away immediately, leaving a good foot of distance between them on the bed. Hurt lit his eyes. “Maybe since we almost died together?” he said defensively. “But you could have just told me you were uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

“No, wait. Shaun!” Katy fumbled over her words. “It’s not uncomfortable, really. Or well, it is, but it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable. It’s just weird because I’ve never felt awkward around you before. But now I do and I don’t know what to do about it or what’s changed or even if you’ve noticed it or not.”

“You feel awkward around me?”

“Yeah! And you seem totally fine which is… great for me,” Katy said, her neck heating. This sucked. She hoped she’d be able to get over this soon so she could go back to singing karaoke late into the night without worrying if she was going to make a pass at him when she was drunk.

“I’m fine because it’s you!” he said. “I’ve known you for forever! What am I doing that’s making you uncomfortable, because I can stop.”

Katy cast a sidelong glance at him, her eyes tracing up the exquisitely-defined muscles of his forearms. I wonder if I could get him to take his shirt off again, she thought longingly. “You could eat a few Ho Hos with a side of pizza, I guess.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion, which drew attention to his eyes, which then led her down to his lips. Ok, maybe there was no leading going on, and Katy had just decided to look there herself.

“Look, normally I’m pretty good at interpreting Katy,” Shaun said, “But I think I might need a little help today.”

I could help you out of your clothes. Woah. That thought had better not come out of her mouth.

Katy jumped to her feet and turned from Shaun, her eyes struggling to find something else to focus on—anything else. “It’s fine, alright. I’m just being weird because I realized you’re hot and now it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”

“Woah! I’m hot?”

“Shut up, you know you are.” Katy moved over to the garage door and turned back to him, confident she could face him with some distance between them.

“No, I don’t! You used to call me shrimp cracker back in high school!”

“Yeah, well, all those shrimp decided to start swimming in the formation of an eight-pack on your torso, so…”

Shaun walked over to her, a grin spreading across his face. “All those times you made fun of me in gym class, and look at you now.”

He was getting too close, and Katy backed along the garage door away from him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Hey, I think I deserve to bask a little in your admiration,” Shaun said, still advancing on her with a smirk she knew was just teasing.

“Shut up, Shaun,” she said, taking one more step behind her.

Her foot caught on the backpack she’d tossed carelessly by the door, and just like that she was going down. Then Shaun grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just barely managing to keep her from dropping like a bag of rice.

One of his hands gripped her wrist while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against him. Her nose was only an inch or two from his, and she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stopped breathing.

Shaun’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched nervously at her waist. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet and surprised. “Yeah, this is weird.”

Katy’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was only at that moment that she realized how far gone she already was. Well, that was that.

She dropped her eyes, but there was nowhere to look but him, so she fixed her gaze on the zipper of the coat he always wore.  There was a stain right around the hem. He should probably get a new coat now that he was important and all.

The hand holding her wrist dropped, and suddenly his warm palm was pressed against her cheek, lifting her head up. She looked back into his eyes and found a familiar warmth there. It was unquestioning friendship and loyalty. It was love.

“It’s a good thing I like weird,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Katy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him harder against her and finally—finally—getting to feel those muscles. When she’d privately fantasized about this moment over the past few days, she’d always worried it might feel strange or wrong—like kissing her brother. But it turned out she’d worried for nothing. Shaun’s hands on her hips felt right, and his lips moved against her mouth in a way that made her knees week. No, this was definitely not like kissing her hot, super hero brother.

After a few minutes Shaun pulled away, his expression dazed but smiling. “Ok, I take it back,” he said. “Not weird at all.”

Katy smirked up at him. “I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.” Her phone chimed her text alert and she jumped, nearly forgetting it was in her back pocket. “Oh, damn, I forgot I told mom I’d be home to help her restock.”

“I can come with,” Shaun said, his hand moving experimentally up and down her waist.

“Sure.” A thought occurred to Katy and she stopped typing mid-text to her mom. She looked up at Shaun, her eyes wide. “Shaun. Waipo is going to be so psyched.”

[baby-bearie]

the 7 ways he’ll tell you he loves you

(NOT MY GIF ALL CREDIT TO OWNER)

jj maybank x reader

taglist: @snarkystarkey @sunflowermotel @howdyherron @drew-starkey @maraseavey @outerbanqs @yelyahryan @obxwriterfan @avashroom @rewindlr @raekenliar @imsad05 @ceruleanjj @dolanfivsosxox @heyhargrove @lashtonandmalumsbaby @beautyandthebleh @pancahke @outrbank @johnbsflowr @corleigh @poguemacking @maybe-maybanks @katie-avery @5sos-seavey

a/n: this is unedited, so sorry about the mistakes. i saw a lot of trouble going around with plagiarism on wattpad and i did report a lot of books with stolen fics and props to you guys for getting a few actually taken down!! plagiarism and theft of intellectual property is HURTFUL, writers put SO MUCH into their work, and it’s not so you can get some votes on a wattpad page. also, boys using lovely as a nickname is ;alsdjffenve. 

How long is forever supposed to be? Months? Years, decades, lifetimes? Forever was supposed to be you and JJ. 

Forever feels like the 15 minutes that he’s been fighting you for. 

“Y/n, I don’t get why you’re turning this into such a big deal.” 

“Stop doing that. Stop acting like I don’t get to be mad. I do! I am! You know, you always do this JJ.” “I do not.” “You do. I’m sick of it. I’m- I’m sorry, JJ, but I’m done. I don’t wanna do this anymore,” you sniffle. You refuse to cry. Not in front of him. “We’re going in circles, I really think it’s time to, to just call it quits.” You shrug. JJ is silent. You wait, you yourself need to process what just came out of your mouth. 

JJ is on the couch. He leans on his knees with his elbows and his head is hanging low. He nods. Slowly at first, then quicker. 

“Okay,” he sighs, “You’re right. You’re right.” You nod, relieved that he agreed with you. A bigger part of you was upset that he agreed with you. It would’ve been nice if he had put up some kind of a fight. 

“So, uh, I’ll go.” “Yeah.”

You collapsed onto the couch, rubbing a hand over your face. A brightly colored magazine was open on the coffee table in front of you. Cheetah printed bold letters spelled out a headline: 

The 7 Ways He’ll Tell You He Loves You.

Talk about bad timing. You flipped the cover back over it. 

#1: He’ll flat out tell you. 

“You know, you’re one of the dumbest boys I’ve ever met.” “Right back at you.” JJ grinned up at you. “Oh, low blow, dude.” You laughed, tackling him down onto the bed. JJ fell back with a loud oof, the breath knocked out of his stomach. 

“One day, you’ll do that and I won’t get up, you know that? You’re actually going to be the death of me.” “Oh, I hope so. I’m already sick of you.” “This is literally you confessing to my murder.” He laughed, shoving you off him so he could hover over you instead. “They won’t arrest me, I’m too cute.” You gave him a cheesy smile. 

“That you are,” JJ smirked, leaning down to press soft kisses into the skin between your jaw and your neck. You hummed in approval as he pulled away. You fiddled with the necklace which dangled from his neck. “I love you,” he muttered. 

“ ‘Til I murder you?” 

He pecked your lips. “Til you murder me.” 

He couldn’t have fought for you? Put up some sort of argument? This was a stupid battle to pick with yourself. You were the one who instigated the break up.  

Maybe you weren’t expecting him to actually agree with you. You weren’t expecting him to let you end things.

#2: He’ll protect you. 

“Maybank, I swear to god, if you don’t get us down from here right now I will throw your ass off this cliff.” “It’s really not that high up!” “Holy shit!” You yelped and turned to bury your face in JJ’s chest. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey, you’re okay, alright? You’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I got you. It’s okay, I got you.” JJ assured you, laughing a little through his words at how tightly you were clutching his tank top. 

The next couple of weeks hurt like hell. It’s a sad process, trying to leave behind someone you were rooted to so deeply. You’d see him at parties or even just out on the street sometimes. 

His eyes always followed you. When you were dating, you were amazing at being able to tell when JJ was watching you.  A shiver used to run over your spine, and you’d turn and immediately meet his eyes. He’d smirk and raise his hand to salute you. 

God, how you missed that smirk. 

Apparently, after you stopped dating, your body never forgot what it felt like when his eyes were on you. These days, when you turned to look at him his eyes were intense. He held your eyes for a second. One second when you could forget how you cried and how he left without kissing  you goodbye. 

Then he looked away. 

#3: He thinks of you when you’re not with him. 

“Hey, baby, look at this.” JJ threw the door to the Chateau open and marched over to you. His smile was proud, like a child trying to impress his mom. He stuck out his hand and dropped a small square magnet into yours. You flipped it over to see the front. 

It was brown and painted badly to look wooden. There were two u-shaped magnets painted on as well, and it read, ‘I can’t help but be attracted to you’. You read this out loud and JJ grinned, ecstatic with his choice.

 “Where did you get this?” You snorted. “It was at some cheesy gift shop. It made me think of you so I had to buy it.” “It’s perfect. I love it.” You stood to kiss his cheek and slid the magnet onto the fridge. “You’re very welcome.” 

JJ has always been nearly unreadable. He’s scarily good at hiding his thoughts and feelings from everyone around him, often including his best friends. You knew John B at least had some knowledge of JJ’s emotions, but you doubted the rest of the group did. 

You had at least managed to make a couple cracks in the hard walls he had built up around himself. 

#4: He shows you his emotions. 

You gaped in awe at the bruises littering his torso. You had no idea just how bad it was. You had no idea why he never told you. 

“I can’t take him anymore, Y/n, I can’t take it- can’t do it anymore.” JJ sobbed, his arms tightening around you. You guided his head down to your shoulder. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, J. C'mere.” You took a deep breath. You would not cry. Not when he needed you to be strong. “Let it out. You’re okay now.” You locked eyes with John B, terrified.

His tears soaked the skin on your shoulder and the first of many that night fell into his hair. 

But since the breakup, from what you saw of him you couldn’t get anything. His face was expressionless every time you made eye contact with him.You had seen him smile at his friends once or twice, but nothing real. JJ was very good at fake smiles. They looked nearly identical to his real ones. But you loved him for long enough to know what a real one should look like. 

#5: He’ll try and make you laugh. 

“Why are you sad, lovely? Stop it, I hate seeing you sad.” JJ pulled you on his chest, brushing hairs out of your face. You shook your head, tucking your face into his chest. 

“Ok. Fine. You leave me no other choice.” JJ sighed loudly. “What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he tells time?” 

He waited a second for an answer that never came. “Dwayne ‘The Clock’ Johnson.” 

You laughed abruptly, but it came out as a sob. You didn’t lift your head. 

“Alright, you want more, fine. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he won’t shut up? Dwayne ‘The Talk’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when the doorbell is broken? Dwayne ‘The Knock’ Johnson. What do you call Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson when he wears comfortable, breathable footwear? Dwayne ‘The Croc’ Johnson.” 

Your whole body was shaking with uncontrollable laughter now. You were certain that JJ had been practicing those at some point. 

“No more, no more, please,” You finally lifted your head and JJ wiped away a fallen tear with his thumb. You choked on a laugh. “So how long did it take you to come up with those?” 

JJ frowned. “What do you mean, I came up with those like just now!” He laughed.

“Okay, sure, JJ.” “Don’t test me, I have like, 8 more.” 

You think the worst part about this is being lonely. You’re surrounded by comforting friends who try and take you places and get you to have fun but at the end of the night you go home to an empty bed and you wake up in an empty bed.

And every morning without fail, you’ll wake up and reach for him. And every morning without fail, he won’t be there. 

#6: He’ll make romantic gestures. 

“JJ? Where are you?” You sat up, groggily. He wasn’t in bed, that’s for sure. 

“G’morning, lovely,” JJ strolled into your room, carrying a tray. You propped yourself up on the headboard and took it from him. 

“Aw, JJ, what is all this?” “Breakfast.” “You made breakfast?” 

JJ stole a berry off your plate and popped it in his mouth, nodding. He took a seat near your legs. 

JJ can’t cook for shit. 

“Baby, it’s okay, it’s the thought that counts, I thought it was sweet!” “Nah, dude, that was shitty, I’m sorry. That bread tasted like a frying pan.” “The berries were good.” “That’s because all I did to them was wash them.” 

You hit up another party with your friends. They were the best kind of distraction. You pulled up the green bikini strap that was falling down your shoulders. This was his favorite top. 

“Y/l/n!” You heard a voice shout. “Y/n!” 

You turned to see who was shouting your name and smiled at John B. “Hey, Routledge, good to see you!” “Hey, Y/n. Look, I know you guys aren’t on talking terms- “John B, no,” You interrupted, but he kept talking over you. 

“But, please, Y/n, he won’t talk to anybody and we’re all worried about him.” “I really can’t, I don’t think he- “He’s in the van. Driver’s seat. Thank you!” And then he was gone. You huffed. 

You could see the van from here and you could barely make out a figure sitting in the front seat. 

You stood there for a second before you forced yourself to get over it and you made your way around dancing teenagers to the van. 

You pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat. He turned to look at you. 

“Hi,” you forced out. This felt uncomfortably unfamiliar. “Hey, Y/n.” 

“How are you?” He asked. He was being formal. He was never formal with you. 

“Fine, I guess. What about you?” 

He said nothing. “Small talk? Is that what we are now? We have to make small talk?” He laughed, exasperated. 

“I know you hate small talk.” 

“What happened to us?” His eyes are wet, and he doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead. “I made a mistake.” You said it out loud. You hadn’t forced yourself to admit it yet. That you were wrong for putting him in this position. 

“What?” He turned to look at you. 

“I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I think some part of me thought you wouldn’t actually let me do it. That you would fight to make us work.” You shrugged. Your eyes watered up. 

“Well, I didn’t want to break up with you.” He spoke quickly. 

“What?” Now it was your turn to be confused. 

“Of course I never wanted to leave you, Y/n. I love you.” “But you said I was right. And you left.” “I thought that was what you wanted. I want you happy. If that means I have to get out of the picture, then I’m gone. I left because I thought you wanted me to go.” 

You scoff. “So, all this time we’ve just been playing ourselves.” 

JJ laughs, a wet one. “You know, nobody told me just how fucking useless I was going to be without you.” He finally really looks at you. 

There’s a half smile on his face and his eyes are full of tears. 

You leap into him, and he meets you halfway. He buries his forehead on your shoulder and his hand is holding the back of your head. “I missed you. I missed you so much, lovely.” He cries into your hair. 

#7: He’ll do anything if it means you’re happy. 

[brookecuzyes]

three years of you. — tear myself apart

Damiano David x GN!Musician!Reader

Main Masterlist — 3yrs Masterlist

Summary: it’s only been a couple of days, which were full of tears and regret. however, that regret wasn’t on their part until a simple comment was made. (Part 3 of a series)

Word Count: ≈3.4k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol intake, angst (Anyone drinking alcohol in this chapter is of the legal drinking age in the United States, which is 21.)

A/N: thank y’all for reading! this has already gained a lot of readers and so i am happy about that. love you guys sm 💕 songs included in this fic are not mine. any characters mentioned are not mine, and belong to their respected owners. and ofc, i don’t own the celebrities either. i do check comments/reblogs, so please be respectful!!

———————————————————————-

You’ve got this, you can do it.

You tried consoling yourself. Normally, he would be here to help calm you down— or at least call if he could physically be there. He’d be there if you were about to have a panic attack, he’d be there to make sure that you were OK.

But you aren’t.

An entire audience full of strangers who listened to the songs, who listened to your heartbreak. Now, they get to watch your heart break live.

He wouldn’t— no, couldn’t— be there to comfort you. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything will be fine. He fucked up, he’s the one who messed up that relationship…

“…then why did you show up?”

——

Glasses clinked. Chatter was taking place all around. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming.

You sat down at the booth with the whole band. Saturday had rolled around, which you hadn’t noticed since you were lost in an almost depressive state where time was non-existent. However, the karaoke bar definitely woke you up.

“Alright, guys,” Luke, the lead guitarist, said, holding a couple of drinks in his hands. “Tonight is the night! The tradition kicks in once again, and Monday we start recording. Let’s celebrate and relax.” Julie, the lead singer and the girlfriend of Luke, followed behind him, setting more drinks down on the table. Flynn, the unofficial manager of the band, let out a loud, “woo!”, making everyone laugh. All of you grabbed a glass and clinked them together, all taking a sip at the same time. Your face crunched when you processed the drink.

“Jesus, Luke, what is this?” you questioned.

“Alcohol,” he said blatantly.

“Yeah, no shit,” you shot back, shaking off the effects.

“I just said that we’re relaxing— that’s exactly what alcohol does!”

“Or maybe you're just an alcoholic?” Alex joked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t drink that much.” Luke defended.

“That’s what an alcoholic would say.” The whole band started laughing at the ongoing banter. It isn’t often when Alex made witty remarks like that, and everyone always enjoyed it when he did.

On another note, you felt as if you absolutely needed this drink. Given what’s been going on this last week, you felt like you deserved it. Though, you knew you’d regret this tomorrow. You knew Alex was keeping an eye out for you. The rest of the band didn’t know yet, they just knew that something happened, which is why you left Italy so early. They were all confused, but didn’t ask upon it when Alex glared daggers at them when they tried. So, thankfully, they did back off. But, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t concerned.

You had been talking, making it seem as if everything was fine, but Alex’s heart broke when he picked up on it. However, with the alcohol about to course through your veins, it would be harder from him to be able to pick up on whether you were drunk or going through it. Regardless, he was going to make sure that you were having fun and not thinking about your ex.

“Hey,” Flynn said, “why don’t we start the karaoke? I think we all have enough alcohol in our systems to do this.”

“I vote for Alex to go first!” You said, raising your hand. “Do Micheal Bublé.”

“Woah, hold up, I never even said-“

“It doesn’t matter. What I say goes. Now go.” He sighed, laughing as he stood up from the booth. He went over to the guy and told him what song he wanted to do. They got everything set up, and Alex got on stage.

“Let’s go, Alex!” You cheered on, making him smile and blush just a bit— though that wasn’t entirely visible from where you guys decided to sit.

The song started playing, and Alex started singing. It took you a few seconds to recognize the song but you figured it out.

“Oh, he’s singing Feeling Good. I love that song,” you whispered to Reginald, the bassist, who was sitting next to you. He looked to you over his shoulder, smiling. He hadn’t seen you so “out there” since you got back. It was nice to see you getting back to normal. Though, he didn’t actually know why you weren’t normal to begin with.

And I’m feeling… good.

You cheered Alex on again, dancing along to the beat with the whole band. Alex didn’t sing much, but when he did you cherished those moments. That’s why he songs Now or Never and Stand Tall on the band’s very first album are your favorite.

“God, I love his voice,” Reggie said, as if he read your mind.

“Yeah, and look at him,” you pointed out the way his body is moving with the music. The way he was just lost in a musical haze. It was enchanting. “That’s what his anxiety covers up.”

Alex soon finished, hopping off of the stage with an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, babe,” you said, noticing his expression. “That was the best performance tonight by far. Not even Julie could compare to how amazing that was.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said, drawing out the ‘thanks’ in a sarcastic way. You raised your glass to her.

“Anytime, Jules,” you replied, raising your eyebrow and taking a sip. She laughed, letting the comment you made slip— for now at least.

“Hey, I have an idea!” Flynn exclaimed. “How about we take a couple photos and post them to our accounts? Y’know, to celebrate this very special moment.” Everyone collectively agreed. Pictures were taken left and right— and others were taken throughout the night, too— and each person had a different photo that they were each going to post. You had decided that you were going to post yours now, not wanting to forget later on tonight or tomorrow.

You captioned it:

Just continuing a small tradition tonight with music and alcohol. maybe if he lets me, i’ll post Alex singing Feeling Good 😏🤍

It was perfect and you posted it, after letting everyone see it to make sure it was OK. Within minutes people already saw it and were liking and commenting. You made sure to turn your phone off before it started going crazy. Julie and Luke decided to go up and do a duet with each other. They choose Little Do You Know. Their voices were beautiful singing the song. They mashed just so perfectly. You recorded them, knowing that you would 100% show them this at their wedding. (They aren’t engaged, but it’s bound to happen sooner or later.)

You weren’t paying attention to the notifications spamming the top of your screen, though you did look back once to see if the camera was aligned with their bodies. That’s when you saw a specific notification. One thing that you absolutely forgot when you posted that photo was that Måneskin could still see your posts. The only reason you remembered was because Victoria responded to your post.

Ahhh you look amazing!!!😘

The second you saw it, you put your head in your hands, mentally slapping yourself. If Victoria saw it, then the rest of the band is going to see, meaning Damiano would see it. Fuck, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” Alex asked, placing a hand on your arm. You looked up at him showing him the comment. “I don’t understand.”

“Victoria commented. Meaning Damiano’s probably gonna see it.”

“Not if he’s blocked.”

“I didn’t block him, we’re still mutuals.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Alex. Maybe I just haven’t gotten to it yet.” You realized the angered tone in your voice, not meaning to be rude to Alex. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, maybe if he does end up seeing it, he’ll just be jealous. Damiano will see everything he’s missing out on.”

“What is Damiano missing out on?” Julie asked, sitting back down with Luke.

“Oh, it’s nothing-“ Alex started, but you cut him off.

“I left Italy because Damiano was talking to another girl. It caused too many problems, so I left.” Everyone went silent. Everyone’s eyes softened at you, unsure of what to say.

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine. I’m here now. It doesn’t matter.” Silence fell once again, especially on Alex’s behalf. He knew you weren’t fine, he knew it mattered— whether you said it or not. “Sorry if I kinda killed tonight’s vibe.”

“N-No, you’re fine,” Reggie said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah, you didn’t ruin anything. I am glad that you told us, though. We’ve been worried.” Luke said, putting his arms on the table and leaning forward just a bit. You felt your phone vibrate but didn’t think anything of it— probably just another person on Instagram.

“Sorry that I made you guys worry. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It’s just been a hard couple of days. This shit isn’t easy,” you explained, mumbling the last part. Everyone stayed silent, none wanting to make something worse.

“Luke, why don’t you and the guys go grab some food?” Julie suggested, placing a hand on Luke’s back, turning her attention back to you.

“Oh, yeah. Guys, let’s go,” Luke said, getting the hint. The boys got up and left, each giving you a sympathetic look. The girls, on the other hand, all stayed behind.

“Alright, listen up,” Flynn started. “Tonight is not the night to mope around. You can do that tomorrow when you’re hungover.”

“Right now,” Julie jumped in, “you’re gonna forget about that asshole, get your ass out there, and sing your heart out, dammit!” Your eyes widened at the girls’ sternness. A smile started creeping from your lips, Julie and Flynn following behind you. Soon enough, the three of you started laughing your asses off.

“Ok, ok, I’m convinced. I’ll have fun tonight. Thanks,” you said, trying to shake off the laughter so you can speak. You grabbed your drink, taking a sip of it. It was the same drink Luke got you earlier. Damn it, Luke. You shook your head to shake off the kick the drink had. Flynn chuckled at your antics, taking a sip of her, not as strong, drink. The guys soon came back with some snack-type items in their hands.

“Are we all good now?” Alex asked, setting down the plate on the table and looking your way.

“Yep, we’re all good now,” Julie answered, taking a sip of her drink. You chuckle at her, reaching for some of the food on the table. “But, Y/N’s about to sing for us.”

“Woah, wait, now?”

“What did I say? You’re gonna sing your heart out.”

You groaned, slumping back in your set in a joking— yet, not entirely joking— way. “Julie, I didn’t realize that you meant right now.”

“Ok, so? Get up there, Y/N! C’mon it’ll be fun.” You contemplated. I should go, you thought, it could be fun.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you announced, getting up from your seat. Reggie and Flynn got up from theirs so you could get out. When you got up, you turned to Reginald.

“C’mon, you’re doing this with me,” you said, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the guy supervising the karaoke.

“I didn’t really wanna sing right now. Nerves, y’know?” Reggie explained.

“So? Reggie, I get that nerves are real, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing this alone.” You opened up a book full of songs, and was going through the selection.

“Why couldn’t you just get someone else?”

“Because I think our voices clash very well together.” You turned your head to him and gave him a smile. He shyly smiled back. You looked back at the book and held it up to Reggie. “What about this one?” you asked, pointing to a song. Reggie read it and smiled.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he said, grabbing the pen and marking off the song and writing your names. You stood back, waiting for him to finish. When he did, he turned around.

“Alright, I’ve got us down. Wanna head up?” He asked, holding his hand out with a playful smile.

“Let’s do it,” you said, grabbing a hold of his hand, him taking you up the stairs and into the stage.

When you walked up, you saw the screen in front of you turn on, switching to the lyrics of the song. The lights were bright, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. You saw some people stare at you, but it was mainly the rest of the band. Reginald walked to the microphone set up on the far left, you took the other. The song started playing, immediately relaxing you. Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought. The song you chose was a favorite of you and Reggie— Meet Me At Our Spot. Of course, the band loved it too, but they got bored with it after a while since you two were always blasting it wherever you went. You actually had some inspiration from this song and wrote a little tune, but you had no lyrics at the moment.

When I wake up

I cant even stay up

I slept through the day, fuck

I’m not getting younger

——

“Victoria, you don’t understand-“

“No, you don’t understand, Damiano!” Victoria raised her voice at him. They never argued. They’ve known each other since childhood and nothing had ever caused an issue, except for this.

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks to me that you broke your lovers heart.”

“Y/N left me,” he said, trying to reason.

“They might have physically left, but, Damiano, you were gone a long time ago.” She started towards the front door of his house, grabbing her keys.

“Where are you going?” Damiano asked.

“Home. But, let me tell you something first, Dami.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “It doesn’t matter how you try to defend yourself, you fucked up. You broke Y/N’s heart. You were talking to someone else. The damage is done. If you’re gonna try and get them back, you’re gonna have to try really damn hard. You want to get Y/N back, right?”

Silence followed. Victoria gave him a second to compose himself, but ultimately feared the worst. “Dami…”

“I mean, yeah, but-“

“No buts. You shouldn’t be saying ‘but’, you have no reason to.” Damiano just looked at her. “Wow… unbelievable.” Victoria opened the door and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Damiano walked up to the door and locked it. He headed back to the living room and heard his phone ding. He picked it up and saw that you had posted a photo.

Just continuing a small tradition tonight with music and alcohol. maybe if he lets me, i’ll post Alex singing Feeling Good 😏🤍

He sighed. He unlocked his phone, and went to go see the photo you posted. You looked nice. Happy. What was the tradition again?

Right, karaoke. The weekend before the band records an album, everyone goes to a karaoke bar. He scrolled down a bit and saw a comment. He saw Victoria’s comment.

Ahhh you look amazing!!!😘

He figured that she saw the post before she pulled out of his driveway. He debated on what he should do.

Yeah, he fucked up. But, it really wasn’t that bad. It’s not like he cheated. It was just talking. He wanted to tell you that you look great, but wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. Like Y/N would care what I think, he thought to himself. You never broke up, though. Plus, he needs to know what’s going on, how you’re doing. He’s concerned. Couldn’t be the worst thing— it’s not like the internet knows yet.

Ok, I’ll just just comment.

——

Caught a vibe

Baby, are you coming for the ride

I just wanna look into your eyes

I just wanna stay for the night, night, night

You and Reginald were jamming out to the song, as per usual. Everyone was loving it, even the rest of the band. It was the most fun you’ve had in a hot second.

When we take a drive

Maybe we can take the 405

Hypnotized by the light

Man, this must be the life

As the song ended, everyone cheered you two on. You went over and hugged Reggie on his side, him giving a small hug back. You guys walked back to your booth, the whole band full of excitement. Alex got up from his seat and let the two of you in, you sitting in the corner of the booth.

“That was amazing!” Luke exclaimed.

“Thanks, we had fun,” Reggie said, practically reading your mind.

“Definitely.”

“Your voices go so well together,” Flynn remarked.

“That’s exactly what I said!” you said, hitting Reginald’s shoulder so he knows your point is proven.

“Ok, we don’t have to be violent about it,” he joked, smirking just a bit.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick. I’ll be back,” you said, waiting for Alex and Reggie to stand up so you can go. You grabbed your phone, stood up, and made your way to the restroom. When you got to the restroom, you went to one of the stalls but checked your phone before you did anything else. However, you almost immediately regretted it because you saw that Damiano had commented on your photo.

What the hell does he want?

You read what he had commented, and, honestly, you wanted to laugh.

You look great tonight, as you do every night, amore

You couldn’t believe it. Amore, really? you thought to yourself. You looked up from your phone, looking at the stall door. You contemplated what to do next:

For starters, keeping the comment wouldn’t be out of the norm for your followers. They knew about you and Damiano. However, if you deleted (which you really wanted to do), everyone would notice. People would speculate. Or, you could just go off on Damiano privately. That would be too harsh. But, this is your account— your decision. Do you want to have your cheater boyfriend compliment you the way he did?

You know what, do it later, you thought, turning off your phone and finally, actually, using the restroom.

Once you finished, you exited the stall and walked over to the sinks. You washed your hands, not able to get that damn comment off of your mind.

You walked out of the restroom and back over to the booth, but you didn’t sit down.

“Alex,” you said, standing next to him. “Can I talk to you?” He looked up at you, unsure of what you wanted to talk about, but got up anyway. You grabbed his hand and pulled him outside.

When you two got out there, you sat down on a bench, Alex following your move.

“Is everything alright?” You opened your phone and went to Instagram, showing Alex to comment Damiano left. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to do, and it is tearing me apart. Do I delete it? Do I keep it? Do I argue with him?”

“Delete the comment, and, Y/N, please, block him on social media. You don’t have to block his number, but you should block him everywhere else.”

“Why not his number,” you asked.

“Because you need closure. At some point, you’re gonna want to text him or call him and try to get some understanding as to why he did what he did. You haven’t actually broken up yet. Maybe that’s how you finish off?”

After a moment of contemplation (again), you nodded your head slowly.

“Ok. Yeah, ok, I’ll do that.” You lowered your head and searched through your following to find Damiano’s account. You clicked the three dots at the top, and looked for the block button.

“You sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Yes. Want me to do it?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can do it.”

You looked at the button for a second. You’ve never even thought of blocking him before. I’m your mind, he was the one. Now? Well, you’re blocking him because he cheated on you, so obviously your idea of him completely shifted.

I can do this.

Your hands started shaking slightly, your heart was beating like crazy.

I can do this.

Slowly, you moved your finger over the button.

Click it, it’ll be fine.

And, so, you did. You clicked the button.

You felt free.

———————————————————————-

Taglist for 3yrs — i’m so sorry if i couldn’t tag you!*

@mywritingonlyfans @nientedaridere @pingpongchamps @fairysums @kkjk @blackbluerose666 @thatmeganthing @teenyweenynightghost @ccweasley @lilchickie @katyldamusic @fanfictioncafe @tiaamberxx @butkutee @aboredassho @story-scribbler

*(for those who want to be tagged, please have stuff posted onto your blog and make sure that your blog isn’t censored <3)

[unhealthyfanobsession]

Omg I love all your drabbles they are so amazing and brilliant I can’t believe you do that for free! What a blessing you are!! I was wondering whether there would be a part four to the vacation au and if not could you do maybe more jealous Cassian but in your lawyer au I’m obsessed but honestly anything you write has me happy!

This is so sweet I am so glad you’re loving the drabbles! I did a second part to the vacation AU a couple days ago so I’m going to go with Jealous Cassian in the lawyer AU. I already *kind* of did this but I’ve been doing jealousy light lately and this time we are cranking it up to 100. This one is kinda long and pretty angsty and I think I definitely need to smoosh all these lawyer drabbles into a mini story that follows Nessian from meeting while studying for the bar exam and then through snippets of their careers so maybe that’s what I’ll do next.

Actually facing Nesta in court was an extreme rarity. All of her non pro Bono work was strictly solicitor. Drafting contracts and negotiating deals in different chic board rooms with little glass bottles of Perrier and complimentary latte carts trolling the halls.

Nesta thought that she didn’t want to litigate. She thought that people didn’t like her and because of that she was a bad advocate. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Watching Nesta fight for something that she believed in, truly believed in, was the closest thing to a religious experience Cassian had ever known.

“And I would urge you to consider in your decision, your honour, the fact that even if it should apply in this case, the very law my learned friend is attempting to uphold is currently under review by the Supreme Court and may soon be overturned on the basis of being unconstitutional as well as unconscionable.” Nesta took a pregnant pause.

“If that happens. If this law is overturned, as you well know, it will not be retroactively helpful to my client. My client who was born here. My client who grew up in Queens. My client who can draw you a map of which bodegas has the best coffee vs the best sandwiches and their proximity to the nearest train, and if that doesn’t qualify her as an American, and a New Yorker, then I don’t know what does.” The judge smiled a little at that. It was a calculated risk, the emotional appeal. But Judge Miluski was already on Nesta’s side and she was a born and bread New Yorker and she had the rare distinction of being a member of the judiciary with a sense of humour. “If this law is overturned, which we both know is highly likely, then my client will be sent to another country, a country she has never even been to, not because she did anything wrong, but because this trial happened a few weeks too-”

Nesta trailed off, eyes caught at the quietly opening gallery door. A man stepped in. Tall and thin and… greasy. Hair slicked back with so much product Cassian didn’t think he’d feel it if he hit him on the head with a hammer. Which he desperately wanted to do. That brutish, violent, raised in foster homes in Harlem side of him that even a legal education and a closet full of Armani suits could never quite polish out of him lit on fire at the sight of this creep. This asshole who was wearing fucking asics with his $4000 suit. And no tie. Top three buttons of a pinstripe white shirt unbuttoned. What a fucking rube.

Except that this guy. THIS fucking guy, made Nesta lose her train of thought. This guy who walked into court late and had yet to drag his eyes up from Nesta’s ass, had distracted her. Caused her to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile a little. This shy, light, cutesy little smile that absolutely did not belong on Nesta Archeron’s face.

When Nesta smiled it was a sly, knowing, victorious thing that curled across her lips and set Cassian’s heart hammering in his chest.

This… this was insanity.

The man smirked, deep and arrogant, as he stood at the back of the courtroom, hands slid into his pockets. Not even respectful enough of the proceedings to sit down.

Nesta gathered herself quickly. The whole mess over in under 20 seconds, but Cassian noticed it. Even as Nesta went on and cited the law and the competing jurisprudence and the ethics and the constitution, he couldn’t focus. All he could think about was that little smile.

Cassian said his final piece, the judge ruled, as they both knew she would, in Nesta’s favor, and it was all over.

Nesta didn’t even gloat like she usually would have. She just stuck her hand out, the absolute picture of professionalism, and shook his.

“Good working with you, Counseler.” She said, as if he hadn’t pulled her around the side of a building and pushed her body up against a brick wall the other day, moulding her into him as they fought over this case. Discussed their future. Their passions.

She’d rejected his invitation to dinner, but she always did. It was a part of the game. A game that Cassian was determined to win.

“Who’s the tech bro?” The sneakers with the suit and the unbuttoned shirt and the general shitty attitude all pointed to that being the only reasonable profession.

“Babe,” the slimy man in question pushed past the swinging waist high half door that separated the gallery and the space where counsel’s desks sat. “Let’s go.” He wrapped and arm too tightly around Nesta’s waist and pulled on her a little.

Cassian curled his fists into his palms so hard his nails bit imprints into the skin of his palms. Babe? Telling her when to leave? The pulling? No.

“I’m Cassian.” He held out his hand. “ADA. What firm do you work for? Haven’t seen you around.”

“Tomas.” The man scoffed, “And I’m not a lawyer. Not interested in all that gibberish you’re type is always spewing. Sounds like pure nonsense to me. I’m a tech investor.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. No actual skills. Not an engineer or developer or even a business manager. Just an idiot with a trust fund throwing money at whatever looked cool.

“Well, Tomas. Do you know why they call that big exam full of all that gibberish you hate the bar exam?” The weasel just raised his eyebrows. “It’s because once you pass it, then you are an attorney. And allowed to cross past this BAR.” Cassian pushed Tomas back out the little half door again. “Which separates the civilians in the gallery from the lawyers making their cases. So maybe learn how to show a little respect.” Cassian scoffed, flicking his eyes to Nesta, “In a few different areas of your life.”

“What the fuck, bro?” Tomas rolled his eyes. “This is why I fucking hate going to your lawyer parties and shit. Jackasses like this.”

“Tomas, please.” Nesta placed a hand on his chest, Cassian tensed, and that seemed to calm Tomas down. Not Nesta’s touch, but another man’s jealousy.

“Why don’t you bring the car around. I have to work out a court date for another matter with Cassian but I’ll be right out.”

“Yeah, ok.” Tomas glared, keeping eye contact with Cassian as he kissed Nesta’s cheek, hand travelling too far down her back. “Hurry though.”

“Of course.” Nesta smiled that same tiny little smile that made her look like a doll on a shelf and Cassian wanted to scream.

“What the fuck are you doing with a piece of shit like that?” Cassian minced no words as he turned to face Nesta.

“Excuse me?”

“Pretty straight forward question, Nes.”

“You… you don’t know him. He’s not like that once you get to know him.”

“Sure he’s not,” Cassian scoffed.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is that your boyfriend, who I’ve never heard of or seen before today despite knowing you for years, had a chance to see you in court. Had a chance to watch you all fired up and passionate and brilliant and instead he walked in late, stared at your ass instead of listening to what you were saying, and then shoved his way up here and pulled at you to leave like you were some kind of toy he didn’t mind tearing the arm off of.”

Nesta blinked. Huffed out a breath. “We’ve been on again off again for a while. That’s why you haven’t seen him before. And he just doesn’t like lawyer stuff that’s why he’s like that in here ok? Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So you’re dating someone who not only doesn’t recognize how brilliant you are but won’t even let you talk about your job?” That was wrong. That was so wrong. That was… why Nesta was so intense with him. Why she debated and fought and talked for hours. Because she couldnt do it at home.

“Why do you even care, Cassian? Let’s just set a date and-”

“Fuck you, Nesta.” Her jaw fell open. “Fuck you for even asking me that. You know why I care. You can’t play dumb with me like I assume you do with him.”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship!” Nesta defended a little too vehemently.

“I know you can’t yell at him about his take on immigration laws,” Cassian stepped closer to her. “I know you can’t get a little tipsy off your favorite Malbec and go on a rambling tirade about the corrupt judiciary and your twenty three- or twenty five depending on the night- reasons why voting for judges completely undermines the integrity of the legal system.”

The was almost no space between them as Cassian looked down, gently set his hand under Nesta’s chin and raised her gaze to meet his. Burning with anger and passion and barely concealed desire. “I know that he didn’t understand why you were crying when RBG died. Because he doesn’t care about how appointing Supreme Court judges works or what that meant for the future of the court. And because I know that you weren’t with him that night. You were with me. Just like election night in 2016. And the Kavanaugh trials. And when the travel ban came into effect. You found me. Because I get it, and I care about your thoughts on all of those things. I’m devastated by them too. You were with me, Nes. And don’t you dare pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Nesta let her cheek sink into his palm. “It means everything Cassian, but…”

“But we fight,” he smiled. “We bicker and yell and cross ideologies and disagree on all the little things. But not the big things, Nes. Never on the big things. We disagree on how to change the world, not what we want to change in it. Isn’t that what matters?”

Nesta swallowed. ��I can’t risk losing you.” She said quietly. “I need you. For all of those reasons, I need you to be in my life and if we… I hurt the people I love, Cassian. So if I let myself love you, I would only hurt you. And I can’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

“So you date him.” Realization was an arrow sailing into Cassian’s chest. “Because you won’t hurt him. Because you could never actually love him.”

Nesta swallowed. “See? See how awful I am?”

Cassian moved his hand to her back, pulled her into his chest. “Go,” he whispered. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’ll be here. And I’ll be waiting for you to realize that I’m not going anywhere. That I can take it. Whatever you want to throw at me, I can take it, Nes.”

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

On the Run

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

On the Run Part 10

Pairing: Bishop Losa x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Smut, Stalker ex, Scenes of abuse, Angst, Violence, Death

You hung around for a while after the guys disappeared for their meeting. Luckily there was plenty to occupy yourself with and you were able to keep busy tidying up. You got midway through wiping down the bar when it occurred to you that you were hanging around like some kind of housewife. The thought immediately made you drop the cloth and stare at it like it was laced in poison. What the hell were you doing?

Of course right then in the clubhouse was a great place for an existential crisis. You stood there wondering how you managed to get things to this point. You’d never intended to get in this deep with Bishop. There was barely anyone in your life in the past few years and now you were in the Mayan’s club house cleaning up after them and doing them favours. More specifically doing it for Bishop, because when it came down to it you would do anything to make him happy. You took a breath and sat down, cracking open a beer.

You gulped it down until it was half drunk and leaned back in your chair. You’d really put yourself in it this time. If you didn’t know better you’d think you were falling in love. You wanted to fill all your days with him and spend every spare minute by his side. You loved just sitting and listening to him talk and tell stories about the club and Santo Padre, sometimes when it was late at night you didn’t even listen particularly hard to what he said, you’d just sit and admire the way he sounded. You adored his low gravelly voice.

The door to Templo lurched open and you swung your head round to see what was happening. The guys began flooding out, the mood seemed to be upbeat from what you could gather from their faces. Now that you were out of your head and back to the world you greeted them with a smile and raised your beer bottle. Bishop was first through the door, eager to join you again.

“Starting without us, sweetheart?” Bishop smirked.

“I’m taking my payment. For helping out with the supply run and for taking Angel off your hands for the day,” you grinned.

“There’s not enough beer in the world for that,” Gilly laughed from behind him.

Angel turned and shoved him, immediately mouthing off about it. You rolled your eyes and tuned the guys and all of their conversations out so you could take all of Bishop in. There was something about seeing him in the club house with that leader vibe he was permeating that was getting you extra in the mood, and suddenly your thoughts from earlier drifted away as they always did. Your brain always had a habit of turning into mush around Bishop, and you had to admit that was a large part of how you got to where you were.

“Everything go ok in there?” you smiled.

“Everythings good, yeah. EZs gonna be our new prospect, the vote went through,” Bishop said, drawing in close and giving you a kiss.

“That’s great! I take it there’s a lot of cause for celebration tonight then?”

“We’ve needed some new blood for a while now, so yeah, I’d say that’s a good reason to celebrate. We’ve got the other charters arriving soon as well so things usually get pretty rowdy after business is settled,” he explained.

“Then that's my queue to leave?” You asked.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t wanna stick around tonight with all the other guys, it wouldn’t be a good idea…” Bishop said trailing off in thought. “I was thinking though next time we do something here, just my guys…you should come over.”

You raised your brow at him, surprised at the offer he’d given you. You were in the inner circle for real now. The idea of it made you a little nervous, but you nodded anyway and held him close to you. He let out a very discreet sigh of relief, probably hoping you wouldn’t hear, but you caught it nonetheless. That was a big deal for him to ask you, you thought.

“Bishop?”

“Mm?”

“You know how much I care about you right?” You said, breathing shallow breaths. “Like, you know I would do anything for you?”

“How much of that beer have you had to drink?” He chuckled.

“I’m serious, I’ve only had this one and I’m not even finished with it,” you protested, giggling. “I just want you know I- I really appreciate you and I like spending time with you. You make me feel so safe and looked after.”

Bishop looked at you like you were a little mad, but you could see by the way his body tensed that you’d struck a chord within him. His eyes searched round the room looking to see what the guys were doing, but they weren’t paying attention to you both, they were too busy getting started on their beers and getting lost in their own conversations. He turned back to face you and held your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs against the back of your palms.

“I care a lot about you too, querida. You’ve been a spark of light in my life lately, I’d do anything to keep what we have. As long as I’m still breathing, I won’t let another person hurt you again. You’re mine and you don’t ever have to worry about that asshole ex coming back to find you while I’m around. I’ll make it my life’s mission to protect you, sweetheart.”

You choked up and had to immediately look away from him as he finished. You hoped to god, he was right. You never wanted to have to see that monster again. Your chest felt tight as you processed everything he said and tried to calm yourself down. Though there was one part of it that really stuck through your mind.

“I’m yours?” You asked nervously.

“Of course you are, I wouldn’t ask you to come round here if you weren’t my girl,” he said with a confident smile.

Fucking hell. You were doing everything in your power not to let tears break loose, but you were fighting a losing battle. Bishop looked around again and motioned you up, tugging on your arm. He directed you discreetly across the front of him and you let yourself be walked, bleary eyed, toward templo.

The fact he was giving you a space away from the guys to express yourself only made you more emotional and you broke down into tears finally. You clung to his kutte and he held you there, petting the top of your head and kissing you, whispering comforting words into your ear. He knew exactly what to do to make you feel better.

“God, I don’t deserve you,” you mumbled, starting to ease your tears.

“We’ll see if you still feel that way tonight when I roll in late and drunk and looking for some attention,” he joked.

“Who says you’re coming back to mine?” you sniffed, laughing.

“Oh that’s how it is now? Oh Bishop I care so much about you, but you can’t come looking for me late at night,” he said in a far too high pitched voice.

“That’s not how I sound,” you whined.

“No? Is it not? Are you sure?” He teased, while poking at your sides.

You squealed as he made attempts to tickle you and you immediately tried to disarm him by wrapping yourself around one of his arms, but it left you completely vulnerable to the other one. You tried to grab that one too, but he was far too strong for you, and kept you pinned against his chest while he grabbed at your sides and made you laugh like a mad woman.

“I surrender, you can come over!” you laughed.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” he smirked.

---------

“Hey girl!”

You winced as you walked into the bar that next day when a very loud voice greeted you. You’d had a total of maybe four hours sleep after Bishop had joined you at home and had woken you up for that comfort he’d been talking about. You hadn’t been expecting the new girl to be working with you and if you were honest you were not prepared to spend the afternoon with someone with that calibre of energy. You weren’t even sure most of the old guys that festered there would be able to deal either.

“Um, hey. Are you, Olivia?” You asked groggily.

“That’s me! Sophia, right?”

“Right,” you said, giving her an unenthusiastic thumbs up.

“I dunno if Danny mentioned it, but he said we should take it in turns to work today,” she explained. “He said to come on and work with you till four, then you take a break for a few hours then at ten i’ll leave and you finish up!”

“Yeah, he was telling me about this the other week,” you recalled. “That’s cool.”

You could tell she was getting the vibe that you weren’t in the mood for chit chat and you felt a little guilty. Though, it still didn’t override your tiredness. You wandered over to the cleaning cupboard and stiffened as you noticed things lying way out of place and littering the floor. After an extensive eye rolling session, you cleared up the mess and eventually emerged with a mop in your hand.

“‘Oh you don’t have to do that, I mopped last night,” Olivia said, as she noticed you.

You looked at the sticky patches that were splattered around the tables still and frowned. If it had been done last night, it wasn’t done properly that's for damn sure. You decided you should probably lay off while you were in such a grumpy mood though, you didn’t want to give her a completely bad impression of you.

“I like to do it every morning anyways, it's kinda a ritual for me, y’know?” You smiled halfheartedly.

“Oh, that’s nice! It’s good to have a routine,” she grinned.

You nodded and got to work cleaning up the mess. It didn’t take too long and as more of the usuals shuffled in, you got ready to serve them. You already knew that her cleaning skills weren’t that great, so you got geared up to watch her pouring and serving. When was it you became so obsessive about the bar, you wondered. You shook your head to yourself and stuck the mop back in the closet.

When you got out you watched her carefully as she poured her first drink. It was actually ok. You breathed a sigh of relief now you knew you weren’t gonna have to bitch at her about that and come across like the ultimate asshole. You stood by next to her and helped as the orders rolled in.

It went like that for most of the afternoon and you got into a system letting her pour the pints while you sorted out the spirits. A few hours later it reached a bit of a lull and you were feeling much more awake now you’d had to function for a few hours. You turned to Olivia, watching her polish up some of the glasses and smiled.

“So, have you been doing bar work long?” You asked.

Olivia jumped when you asked the question and you giggled to yourself as you watched her recover. She laughed nervously to herself and put the glass she’d been focusing on down.

“Sorry about the way I’ve been this morning, I didn’t get much sleep last night unfortunately,” you added.

“Oh it’s alright! I was at a diner before this, but then the manager decided he wanted to get a little handsy and then a little stalkery, we had a bit of a thing over that and...here I am,” she said awkwardly.

“Oh shit. Sorry to hear that. Luckily Danny’s not like that, you’ll be good here,” you smiled.

Olivia nodded her agreement and you both went back to work doing what you were doing. There was, what you perceived to be, an appropriate silence before she spoke up and attempted to learn more about you.

“So you were up late last night? How come?” she asked, with a glint in her eye.

“My uh- my...partner rolled in drunk last night, kept me awake with all his stories.”

You had absolutely no idea how to refer to Bishop. You had that talk the day before, but calling him your boyfriend felt a little weird given his age. Calling him your partner seemed right, but given it was the first time you’d ever called him it, it felt foreign on your lips. You smiled to yourself as you got more familiar with the thought and got lost in your thoughts about him, remembering how nice it was cuddling in with him that night and stroking your hands through his hair.

“Your partner huh? Is it one of those bikers? Danny said yesterday that there’s been a lot of bikers in here recently coming to see you,” she grinned.

“I wouldn’t say they were coming to see me, they have been drinking here for years. Yes though, he’s one of them,” you said with a smile.

It was like some divine power was listening in. Just as you’d made that claim you heard bikes start pulling up outside and looked at the door questioningly. It was only one in the afternoon, this was surely too early for any of them to be up and among the living after a party like last night’s.

The door bashed open as usual and Olivia watched wide eyed and scurried behind you. Angel, Coco and Gilly rolled in looking a whole lot less than fresh. They were still in the same clothes from the day before and both Coco and Angel had the most sorry bed heads you’d ever seen. You wondered what on earth they were doing lurking around at this time together. In the back of your mind you knew it was a little weird, given how late they were up, but you were sure it must be some kind of club business.

“Hello boys,” you smirked. “What are you guys doing here at this time?”

“We came to see our favourite vieja, of course,” Angel said reaching over the bar to mess up your hair.

“Angel!” you screeched. “Wait...Did you just call me vieja?”

“Bishop told us you guys were a thing,” Gilly grinned.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Coco added.

“Oh did he now?” You asked.

“Dude sounded so fuckin’ happy sitting there laughing and shit, saying you were his girl. Real cute like,” Angel clarified, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Mhmm, well it is true...Just don’t call me old lady,” you groaned.

“Or what?” They laughed.

“Your favourite bartender is gonna have to get real creative with your drinks,” you threatened.

They laughed you off and ordered themselves a few whiskies, which you told them may or may not arrive with dish water included. You noticed that Olivia was continuing to stare awkwardly over at them and walked over to her corner once you got them what they wanted. You were aware they were pretty intimidating if you didn’t know them, so you decided to check in and make sure she was ok.

“I’ve been around these guys for a little while now, they’re good. They won’t hurt you or creep on you... Maybe stay away from Angel actually, he won’t be creepy, but he is a huge flirt” you laughed.

“They’re kinda scary, but like...kinda hot,” she whispered with a sly grin on her face.

“Kinda hot, huh?”

“The guy on the left, what’s his deal?” She asked you.

“Coco? He’s a good guy, his sense of humour’s kinda fucked, but he’s sweet,” you smiled. “Want an introduction?”

“Well I gotta serve them at least, I guess,” she mumbled nervously. “Oh my god, I didn’t think I’d meet them today.”

You laughed at her and shook your head. She was a good soul, even if she was a little messy. You brought her over to the guys and told them she would be working here with you now, and to be extra nice to her. Of course Angel dove right into that introduction and you had to admit to yourself that you loved the fact he’d be denied another bartender to flirt with. she was making very obvious eyes at Coco.

While she was serving and keeping the guys entertained you fished your phone out your pocket and decided to message Bishop. You didn’t think you were gonna get a response, but you figured it’d be nice on the off chance he’d be able to swing by around your break. You sent him a little morning message and explained the break situation. You put it away, getting ready to get back to the taps, but your phone buzzed as you did and you read his message back.

Hey, sweetheart. Why don’t you come swing by here again? You’ll have to help scrape me off the bed.

---

Poor you, Viejo. I’ll be by soon to get you back to the home x

---

It’ll be poor vieja when you get back here, sweetheart.

---

You laughed to yourself and lost yourself in thinking about what he’d do to you. You could picture exactly the way he would’ve said that if he were in the room with you. That low growl right in your ear. Oh man, break can’t come fast enough.

Next Part Here

————

Tag list

@nessamc @just1bri @minimel-fics @adaydreamaway08 @est1887

[fumingspice]

andante

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Reader

Prompt: oK so how about like?? Delia x reader and they're both in love af but they think the other has no feelings for them so they're both tripping over themselves to make the other love them and then madison comes in and she's just like 'stop being dumb' and they finally realise how much the other loves them.

I’m sorry but my ed crept back in and im not horny enough to put more thought into writing so just ignore the massive time skip at “---”. enjoy, you strange people xo

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*(*❦ω❦)*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It's crazy. Falling. You see? We don't say "rising into love". There is in it, the idea of the fall. And it goes back to extremely fundamental things. That there is always a curious tie at some point between the fall and the creation. Taking this ghastly risk is the condition of there being life. You see, for all life is an act of faith and an act of gamble...

Between Cordelia Goode's ears were pretty brown eyes and a mind full of thoughts. Brown eyes were never really your favourite until you saw them on her. You knew yourself that somehow, over the years you got to know Cordelia; working with her, befriending her, carrying her home from the bar one night when she got far too drunk, letting her cry into your shoulder when her job became too real and she could feel her mother's words hanging over her head.

When you started falling for the woman with those beautiful brown eyes.

Somehow, her eyes were now your favourite colour.

Not brown- brown wasn't simply the word for the colour. Cordelia's eyes were the colour of aged whiskey. Sometimes they were the only two safe shots of tequila that you could see. Sometimes they were a beautiful milk chocolate dotted with exposed honeycomb. Once when she had asked you to help her decorate the garden for the Summer Equinox- she had given Zoe enough money to take the girls on a field trip for the day so she could give the girls a little party. You stood watching her in her denim shorts and her white button up. When she had stepped back and put her arm around you to admire both of your handy work you could have sworn her eyes were glowing like fresh magma.

Her hand lay on your waist a split second too long.

You had fallen in love with the Supreme.

"Yo, bitch!" Madison Montgomery's usual entrance phrase disturbed you from your imagination. You raised your brow and smirked.

"Yes, Madison?"

The blonde took her sunglasses off her face and closed them with a slight snap. "The girls want to know if you wanna come to play Pysch! with us," she said. Her lips were curled in what could almost be described as a friendly smile. You were one of the few honoured to know that under Madison's bitchy white girl facade there was actually a very sweet someone lurking under there.

You thought for a moment and put your pen down. "I won't be long- I just have to log these last few names and I'll be there," you tell her. Madison rolled her eyes and waved her hand, the pen lifted itself and wrote the last thirteen names within seconds. "You're done. Let's go, Y/N."

Madison didn't even give you a minute to say anything before she walked out of the room. "Come on, bitch. Don't make me use my powers!" she called from the hallway, finally motivating you to move.

The girls sat in a circle in Zoe's bedroom. Lights off. Candles lit.

Zoe, Queenie, Mallory, and Coco were indulged in their phones for the game. Madison turned to you and held up her phone to show you the question. "What is Zoe's deepest, darkest secret?" she read. "You gotta answer it and the person with the most votes wins. It lasts for ten rounds and it can be fucking hilarious."

Zoe's face was red with laughter at the answers. "She's not actually a witch- that's not even funny," she gasped through cackles. She then sobered slightly. "She likes to watch Danny Devito movies while masturbating and screaming 'I am a dirty man'."

Madison was the only one who chortled at that.

You joined the game and got your best answers ready in your head. "If Madison got arrested tomorrow what would it be for?"

Madison rolled her eyes and muttered something about knowing exactly what everyone was about to answer. You smirked slightly, sensing her slight apprehension.

Prostitution.

Murder. Third-degree.

Fucking up the brakes on a bus full of frat boys.

Public Nudity.

"Gosh, you're so original," she muttered, glaring right at Zoe, who just shrugged.

"It's the rules of the game, bitch. Go all in, don't get offended," she replied.

The game pinged for the next question.

"What is on Y/N's mind right now?"

Coco gave a loud "Ha!" and typed quickly, along with the other girls who were all typing as quickly as possible to get their answers in first.

A quiet knock came from the other side of the door and Cordelia poked her head around. "Sorry to interrupt, girls. Y/N, could I borrow you for a moment?" she asked, voice sweet and angelic. You bounced up as soon as she finished the sentence and obliged straight away. You were met with a sweet smile.

Madison flicked her brows. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, winking at Delia's slightly confused face. As you left, your phone pinged to announce the results just before you left the game.

Cordelia 🥵🥵🥵

Delia. I ship it <3

Getting knuckle deep finger fucked by the HWIC

French fries

You quickly shut off your phone screen before Cordelia could see.

"What's the matter, Delia?" You asked, practically skipping alongside her. There was a vibrant air of satisfaction between you.

Cordelia shook her head, her blonde hair bobbing with her movements. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to go out.”

You felt your heart stop. “Go out?”

Cordelia looked hurt by the confusion on your face.

“Yes. Would you like to join me in the garden?”

“Oh,” you realised, slightly disappointed. “I would love to.”

---

"For the love of Hades. Right, I don’t mean to sound rude or anything because I have some understanding that lesbians are fucking useless because of the fear of appearing to be predatory because the media is an asshole,” Madison continued. “But I don’t really think any of us can eat at this table anymore without choking on the fucking sexual tension between the both of you.”

Cordelia looked shocked. “It’s not that-”

“I’m a fucking mindreader! You do get that I can fucking hear the things that you say in your head about what you want to do to Y/N? I’m one gutter minded bitch and not even I’m creative enough to come up with that shit while I’m eating my fucking apple turnover!”

You blushed hard and chuckled.

Madison’s neck snapped towards you. “Oh, and don’t getting me fucking started on you! Do you know how fucking unsanitary it would be to carry out your little fantasies of fucking Cordy on the kitchen counter? Not even for us but the amount of fucking crumbs that would work into your nooks and crannies would be like trying to spring clean Myrtle's fucking hair! "

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cordelia chuckled nervously. Her face turning a shade of red. “I’m sure Y/N’s got plenty of better options.”

Madison dropped her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. “God, you bitches are going to put fucking years on my skin.”

“Oh, give me a break, Madison.”

Cordelia stumbled foward slightly, having been tripped up by some unseeable force and sending her tumbling into you. Her hands lay against your chest for that split second too long once more.

Your lips parted for a moment and your breath hitched as you both watched Madison smirk and leave the room. It felt like your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You surroundings were unnoticable to you now; replaced by unidentifiable whirls of colour and light. Your hand rested flat on Cordelia’s cheek. It was different this time. Not the spark, that had been there every time you touched. It was the fact that you were both too slow to ignore the ignition that started in your chests. 

You saw her eyebrows falter from their previously confident expression, like all of her preparation and barriers and walls had fallen down and she was too slow to replace them. Cordelia pursed her lips, presumably trying to figure out what she should say to you. Again, she was too slow as you inhaled sharply and thrust yourself forward to catch her lips.

Delia was quick to mould herself to the curves of your front, hands falling to the small of your back on a collision course as she backed you into the dining room table. You smoothed your hands over the contours of her jaw, her collar bones, breasts, hips like you were a master pianist playing a brilliant concerto. Her body was the only instrument you longed to play; her moans the only melody that you longed to draw from her.

As her lips glided across your own, everything came together like pieces into place. You thought back one of those late nights in the kitchen. The way Delia’s fingers had so enthusiastically laced through yours during the late night in the kitchen when you had both stayed up until the wee hours of the morning talking about life. How the witch had turned the radio on and taken your hand while you danced to some song by REO Speedwagon. Twirling you through the night. “Can’t fight this feeling” was the song. Ironic, now that you thought about it. It seemed as though fighting her feelings was what she had been doing the entire time.

She twirled you around in the light of the dim television and the refrigerator when the songs were upbeat, even going as far as dipping you and pulling you up again. Bare thighs against your own in her shorts and oversized shirt. When the songs that were played were slower, she was more gentle. Until eventually you swayed in a slow two-step, your head against her chest, and hers against yours. The air was thick with something pure. Something untouched. 

You had no idea why you ever just thought this was something two best friends did. More so, you had no idea why you didn’t lean back and dip into her lips and allow your souls to dance the waltz that they were so clearly destined for. 

Cordelia’s thumb and finger lay on either side of your jaw as she continued to kiss you as if her soul depended on it. Her fingers interlocked with yours against the table.

She broke away, tears had fallen down her cheeks and made your heart melt. “Oh-ho,” you chuckled, mouth agape at her sight. “Why the tears, my love?”

Cordelia laughed, wiping away her tears. “I’ve longed to do that for so long,” she replied. “So, so long.”

You chuckled at her sweetness and the display of pure love that you were so unaccustomed to.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. I don’t think I will ever stop falling in love with you. You’ve created this storm of beautiful chaos in me,” she continued. “Do you remember that night where I was really sleepy, so you let me just stay in your room? How I had fallen asleep on top of you by accident and you wrapped your arms around me and hummed a lullaby?”

You nodded, remember the feeling of waking up with the Supreme in your arms.

“I was wide awake,” she told you. A delicate smile arose.

You chuckled into her touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you replied, drawing her closer, her blonde hair twirled in your fingers. “I know you were.”

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Fangs

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: so this piece can either be read as a oneshot or as a sort of sequel to “Get Me To Church”, but in a different style. Basically I got obsessed with the idea that the Outpost residents could stand up to Wilhemina and question her rules and you guys, the POTENTIAL FOR ANGST. As always, English isn’t my first language, so expect a few weird sentences. x

Word count: ~ 8 200

It started small. One morning Venable smiled at you for no reason and Coco saw it. Coco raised her eyebrows teasingly at you and poked your shoulder. Innocent, playful, amused.

You didn’t understand that smile at first, for it was so unlike Venable. It didn’t go with the rest of her. She was all sharp angles that scratched and made the skin bleed, rough edges, snarky comments, bites and claws. Not kind smiles shared in corridors. So you wondered, and Coco raised her eyebrows.

You couldn’t forget it, her smile. It haunted you, followed you like your shadow. It had been beautiful. You wanted so badly to see it again. So you tried making jokes when you knew she could hear them. Not-so-very-clever jokes, corny jokes, that made Andre and Kyle laugh but left Venable’s face completely blank. You stared at the floor and pinched your arm.

Then one evening when you were so, so bored, Andre and you danced to that silly song that played every day over and over like the reminder of a curse. He dipped you, and you laughed, and met Venable’s eyes. Her face was upside-down, but you saw it. That smile again. You recognized it at once because it bore none of her usual coldness and sarcasm. It was genuine. It was fond. It made your heart swell.

Probably there were a few surprised glances shared between the others. Maybe Coco raised her eyebrows again. You did a clumsy pirouette and took a bow as the song came to an end.

One morning Venable told you you looked good today. No sarcasm. No mockery. As if she genuinely meant it. Kyle was nearby, and he heard her. Perhaps he even saw the softness in her eyes. Perhaps he didn’t. But he heard her, and that was enough.

They were whispering when you walked into the music room. Coco gestured for you to sit next to her. She leaned over your shoulder and whispered into your ear, “Watch out, Y/N. We think she’s into you.” Gallant nodded solemnly and said, “Good luck. Scream if you need help. We’re a team. In this together. ”

The day after that was when things really did change. You snapped at Venable in front of the others. Actually snapped at her, questioned her rule about copulation, said the two Greys she had had shot for loving each other had not deserved death. Coco and Gallant looked truly impressed. They also stared at you as if it were the last time they were seeing you alive.  

You wondered that night whether you had given up on life the day the world ended. You waited for someone to come get you and shoot a bullet through your brain or throw you out of the Outpost. Nothing happened. So the next morning when you sat down for breakfast, the others fell silent. They stared at you. You stared at them. None of you really understood why you were still here. Then Gallant’s mouth opened, just a bit, as if he had realized something. He was about to speak when Venable walked into the room and announced you would now have board games nights. For fun.

That was her first mistake. Part of you knew it, even then, but that part was obliterated by the tidal wave of joy and hope and love that swelled inside you and crashed all over your heart, sprinkling fragments of light and fragments of shining blue everywhere.  

Andre snapped at her. Rose to his feet to confront her. No one had done it before but you, and you had gotten away with it. So why not him?

Something quaked slightly when Andre rose. You told yourself it was the ground. You knew you were wrong.

All Venable had to do was stand her ground and scowl for Andre to relent. He took a step back and lowered his head in defeat. And you saw the spark of victory in Venable’s eyes, saw the satisfaction and pride. You admired her. You feared her.  

Later that day you made small talk with her. Just to get to know her better. What did she like? What did she dream of? were questions you tried to smuggle in. You assumed a nonchalant expression and pretended to study your nails. You almost forgot what she had done to the two Greys when you met her eyes and sank into the black. It was black spattered with light, like stars in the night sky.

At one point you reached out with the intention of playfully poking her shoulder. But your hand froze midway, and you pursed your lips, pretended you had meant to sweep the dust off the arm of your chair.

“I do believe we should vote for our leader,” Gallant said one evening. “Aren’t we still a democracy?”

“I’m not sure we are,” Andre sneered.

“What the hell you guys, we’re not,” Coco stated.

“Well, as I said, we should vote for our leader,” Gallant repeated.

The idea wasn’t mentioned again for a few days, but it hid in the silence and the shade and never disappeared.

And you saw them scowl at Venable’s back. You heard them whisper to each other when she wasn’t there. Again, the ground quaked.

**

Late one evening, you were startled by a knock on your door. You were in your pajamas, and your hair was still wet from the shower, but you figured it must be Coco visiting you out of boredom. She was your friend, and you didn’t mind not looking your best with her.

It wasn’t Coco. It was Venable.

There was a very, very awkward moment as she ran her eyes up and down your body and you tried hard not to blush.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she said eventually. Her face was completely blank.

“You’re not bothering me,” you mumbled. “I wasn’t doing anything at all.”

You couldn’t read her. You couldn’t see through her façade. Was she amused? Nervous? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and folded your arms on your chest.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

Your mouth fell open. What kind of question was that? Never in your time at the Outpost – months that had felt like years – had she ever taken the time or the trouble to ask any of the residents how they were doing. And now – first there had been her smile. Then the board games nights, trying to keep you all entertained. And that question.

Was she actually… trying to be nice?

Silence stretched as you processed her words, until she snapped defensively, “What?”

“Oh, uh.” You fumbled for the right words to say. “Fine, I’m doing fine.” You tried to laugh. “I mean, I’m very bored. Like, all the time. But everyone is. Except you, I guess,” you added uneasily. “Because you’re so busy running the place. And all that.”

“Is there anything you can think of that could help you pass the time?” she asked.

A make-out session would be nice, said a voice in your head. You glanced at her lips.

“Well,” you said,” I’ve run out of things to read. I did pack a few books before coming here, but not enough as it turns out.”

“I can help you with that. I’ve got quite a few of my own.”A pause. “You can borrow some. They’re in my room.”

“In your room?” you heard yourself repeat.

Venable nodded. You glanced at her lips again. When you met her eyes, you thought maybe they were a bit darker than before.

“Ok,” you breathed.

It was her second mistake, even though you didn’t realize it at the time. For Gallant saw you. Barefoot and in your pajamas, walking into Venable’s room. He saw how her hand almost brushed your back but didn’t, as if she were too afraid to touch. He saw her close the door behind you.

**

Venable lent you two books you had not yet read. You held them to your chest as if they were a treasure, not so much because of the escape they promised you, but because they were hers. Her fingers had touched those pages, her eyes had read those words. You opened one book and buried your nose in it, hoping her perfume had lingered on the paper.

You spent the next day reading and ignoring the other residents. Your head was buzzing with words by the time you made your way back to your room, so you didn’t see Venable coming from the other end of the corridor until she stopped mere inches from you.

Her gaze locked with yours. You were vaguely aware of the smile that bloomed on your face – a grin, really, that you could feel tugging at the corner of your lips. The world around you vanished. Venable titled her head on the side, and her mouth twisted as if she were holding back a smile of her own.

For a long moment none of you spoke. You just stood staring at each other as if waiting for something to happen, until Venable’s smile spilled on her lips and you thought you saw a faint blush adorn her cheeks. But maybe it was just the candlelight.  

“Hey,” you finally blurted out. You brought a hand up to your hair nervously. “Uh, I wanted to tell you – to thank you, really. For the books.”

Venable gave you a nod. “You’re welcome.”

“And also for the board games nights. They’re really fun. They help making those dreadful evenings, well, a bit less dreadful. Everyone loves them.” That was a lie. Coco and Andre hated board games nights, even more so as they had been Venable’s idea. Kyle and Ash didn’t care much for them, either. But they meant the world to you. They were the proof that somewhere deep behind the cruelty and the sarcasm, kindness lay shy and hesitant in Venable’s soul.

Silence, as you racked your brain for something else to say. You didn’t want her to go just yet.

“Uh, you know,” you eventually spoke, “I was thinking, if you want to borrow some of my own books while I have yours, well, I wouldn’t mind.”

Was this a stupid offer? It sounded stupid to you. You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I’d love that,” Venable answered. You looked up at her. She smiled, fond and kind. You melted.

“Okay, great, uh, okay,” you laughed nervously. “Okay.” A pause. “Uh, if you’d follow me?”

You led the way to your room and fumbled with your key for a while. As Venable walked in, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Your room wasn’t near as neat and tidy as hers. Clothes that had been carelessly taken off lay like dead bodies on the floor. Your bed wasn’t made.

Venable’s eyes scanned the room, but she refrained from making any comment. As she sat down on your bed, though, she automatically reached out to rearrange your pillows.

“You sure love to keep things in order,” you teased.

Venable hummed. “Order’s the only reason why we were able to make progress as a species. There’s nothing more valuable. That, and control. If you cannot control other people, they’ll destroy you.”

You frowned as you considered her words. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

“Well, think it over. People are essentially rabid dogs. Loosen your grip on them and they’ll jump on you and tear off your throat.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no room for doubt. She looked up at you as if she thought she had just entrusted you with some secret universal truth, and she expected you to behave accordingly.

“I’m not sure I agree with that, either,” you replied.

She narrowed her eyes at you.”Well then, you’re a fool.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I am. Or maybe one day you’ll allow yourself to trust someone, and you’ll realize trust and kindness are more efficient than control.”

You opened your wardrobe to avoid meeting her gaze. You could still feel it, though, leaving marks like burns on your face. Your books were in a suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe. You picked it up and set it on the bed.

“Here,” you said, still avoiding Venable’s eyes. “Make your choice.”

You sat down on the bed, keeping a safe distance between her and you. You let a moment pass before you dared glancing up at her. She was busy studying your books, not paying you the slightest attention. So you relaxed, and stared at her.

You wondered what she would look like in the sun. Would her eyes be of a lighter brown, her hair a brighter red? You wanted to see her against the blinding flickers of light on the sea waves, and what she looked like when she was staring up at the stars, or when she was lost in a storm with the wind messing up with her hair, her eyes bright, her cheeks red.

She glanced sideways, met your eyes. You immediately lowered your head and cleared your throat.

“You should take this one,” you said, nodding at the book she was holding – you had no idea which one it was. “It’s very good.”

“Oh, it is,” she answered – was that laughter you could hear in her voice? “The main character, what is he again, a surfer? And the descriptions of the sea are the most beautiful I’ve ever read.”

“I know, right? Unparalleled. So very poetic.”

Venable bit down on a smile as she raised the book to show you its cover. The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter. You almost burst out laughing.

“A surfer,” Venable smiled, shaking her head.

“Ok, you got me.” You turned your head away from her to hide your reddening cheeks. “I had no idea which book you were talking about.”

“Um. Seems you were staring at something else.”

Why was the room suddenly so hot? Had a demon just barged in and brought with him fires from Hell? Your face was burning.

“I actually really like it,” you said to change the subject. “The book, I mean.”

You risked another glance at her. She was flipping through the book, a dreamy smile on her face. It was the first time you were seeing her so relaxed. She looked almost at peace. And younger, freer and wiser, as if she had finally set down a heavy burden. Was this what she looked like when her walls were down?

You wanted to see her with her hair down and no make-up on.

She found a passage you had highlighted, read it, blinked, read it again out loud. “The way I need you is a loneliness I cannot bear.” Her eyes met yours. “Who knew you were such a romantic,” she teased. Your eyes flicked to her lips.

She picked up another book – Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse – and flipped through it until she found another highlighted passage. “With stars in her eyes and veils in her hair, with cyclamen and wild violets…“She paused to glance to you. You leaned towards her. “Stepping through fields of flowers,” she read on, “and taking to the breast buds that had broken and lambs that had fallen; with the stars in her eyes and the wind in her hair.” Her voice had become a mere whisper. She ran her finger down the page, a gentle caress, as if it were a lover.  

After a moment she cleared her throat. “I think I’ll take this one,” she said.

“Very good choice,” you whispered.

She turned her head to look at you. And perhaps it was the wild violets. Perhaps it was her face, or how big her eyes were, as if they wished to suck up the whole world and you with it and perhaps you were a bit too eager to lose yourself in their depths. You leaned in, dropped a kiss on her lips like a flower.

It was short, merely a peck. It ended before you even knew it had begun. It lasted forever, made the stars fall from the sky, the oceans sweep over land. It irremediably shattered your heart and made it whole again.

You had absolutely no idea how Venable would react. You were half expecting a slap in the face. But instead she gripped your wrist and planted a sweet kiss on your lips. Like payback. It stole all the air from your lungs.

She pulled away, made as if to lean in again; hesitated, as one about to dive into the ocean from a cliff pulls up short at the very last second. Craving the fall, but too afraid the impact would hurt too much.

You chased after her with a “Trust me” falling from your lips, but she tilted her head away from you.

Venable let go of your wrist and sat up. She closed the book. One of her hands came up to play with her earring.

You drew in a shaky breath to try and clear your head. Your heart had gone mad and your body felt like it was about to dissolve into liquid and spill down the bed to form a pool of rosewater at her feet.

“Thank you,” Venable said, lifting the book. “I’ll take this one.”

You smiled. “Try not to fall too hard for Mrs Ramsay.”  

She hummed absentmindedly. Hand tugging at her earring. You held your breath.

“I should go,” she said eventually. She grabbed her cane and stood up.

At the door she paused. “I, uh,” she said. Her eyes when they found yours were hopeful. “Thank you,” she repeated. “For the book.”

You nodded, and grinned at her.

**

“Watch out, here comes the dragon,” Coco whispered as Venable entered the music room.

Everyone looked up at her, but you were the only one who dared meet her eyes. She gave you a small smile and walked towards Coco.

When she spoke, her voice was more amiable than you had ever heard it, but there was a strain to it, too, as if she were unable to fully hide her contempt. “How have you been adjusting to your new life at the Outpost?” she asked Coco.

That drew everyone’s attention. You frowned in surprise.

Coco stared at her. “Are you considering a new career as a therapist?” she retorted.

“It is part of my job to make sure everyone here is doing as well as they can,” Venable replied in the same amiable voice.

“Terrible,” Coco blurted out, “it’s been terrible. I’m starving to death, I’m so bored I’m losing all my wits, and if I don’t get to lie in the sun very soon my complexion will turn grey.” She paused to take a breath. “But you know what would make me happy? To wear normal clothes. And don’t you have more of that meat you cooked for us once? Oh and for the love of God, why don’t you let me orgasm one more time before I die?” Her voice oscillated between anger and sarcasm. When she stopped talking, her eyes widened a bit, as if she couldn’t quite believe her own boldness.

“None of those things are negotiable,” Venable answered, most of her amiability gone now.

Andre let out a mirthless laugh. “What a surprise,” he said bitterly.

“Those rules were made to ensure your survival,” Venable snapped.

In former days, her snapping would have been enough to drain the fight out of Andre. In former days, Venable only had had to glare for protest to die down. She was a born tyrant, Kyle had said once. Naturally gifted to instill fear in others.

But things were different now. She had been willing to show kindness. She had smiled at you and her smile had been genuine. She had loosened her grip, just slightly.

“Bullshit,” Andre growled. He stood up.

Something flicked across Venable’s face you had never seen before. Something that looked exactly like fear. Andre saw it.

He took a step towards her and raised his voice.”I think those rules are bullshit. And I think you know it. Why should we follow them if you don’t? Gallant saw you,” he spat out. ”He saw you open your door to your little pet the other night.”

For a moment there was only silence. You leaned back into your seat, trying to make yourself as small as possible. And then Venable raised her left hand and slapped Andre in the face. Hard. The sound echoed off the walls.

Andre stumbled back and deflated. But he had set an example, and the others were only too eager to pick up the torch. As a line of soldiers advances when the first has succumbed, Ash spoke out.

“Why don’t you come to my room and spend the night, Kyle?” she said, proud and confident.

“Now you guys, wait a minute,” you heard yourself say, “we didn’t –“

“I’d be delighted,” Kyle cut you off. He grabbed Ash’s hand and bent to kiss her knuckles.  

“Andre, my bed’s all yours,” Gallant said in a singsong.

Coco let out a loud laugh. “Party night!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Let’s all be disgusting sinners tonight!”

Venable tapped her cane on the floor. Loud. Threatening. Coco stiffened and fell silent. And Venable almost smiled, because she still had so much power over them, so much control, and she would be damned before she let it slip through her fingers –

Gallant charged at Venable with his hands clenched into fists as if he meant to hit her. He had almost reached her when he changed his mind, stopped dead in his tracks, and scurried away from her. But his voice thundered, “What are you gonna do, uh? Shoot me? I’m royalty! I’m wearing fucking purple, babydoll!” He opened his arms and grinned like a mad man. “And anyway we outnumber you, bitch! Don’t you ever fucking forget that!”

And with that he left the room.

The others scowled at Venable for a few seconds before they, too, one by one, got up and left. Coco stopped in the doorway and turned. “Come on, Y/N,” she called.

You met Venable’s eyes. They were as unreadable as ever. You waited, hoping for something, some emotion, that would give you a reason to stay. But she merely glared at you, standing tall and confident as if nothing had happened. Just the way she had looked when she had sentenced those two Greys to death.

You lowered your gaze, stood up, and followed Coco out of the room.

**

“What the hell just happened?” Coco laughed nervously.

Gallant was jumping up and down like an excited child. “The end of an era!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

You stared at them. They were your friends. You were a team, in this together. Coco draped an arm around your shoulders and grinned at you.

“Man, that felt good,” you heard Gallant said. He shook his head and shoulders as a dog does to get dry.

A team, you reminded yourself. You were in this together. You gave Coco’s hand a squeeze.

**

“We’re going to hold an election.”

Venable raised her eyebrows contemptuously.”An election?” she repeated, as if it were the most ludicrous thing she had ever heard.

Gallant nodded. “A vote. To choose who will lead us.”

Venable let out a short, incredulous laugh. Her eyes went from one face to the other. “Excuse-me,” she scoffed, “you must have gone mad, or else I didn’t hear you correctly.”

“We’re holding an election,” Gallant enunciated, “to choose who will lead us.”

Venable’s face hardened. “No you’re not,” she said.

“Try us,” Gallant growled.

“And how exactly are you going to run this place without knowing anything about the Cooperative’s plans?”Venable sneered.

“We’ll figure things out. We’ll be better at it than you ever were.”

“My work here has been more than excellent,” Venable snapped. “It’s the only reason why you’re still alive.”

“Tell that to Stu,” Andre interrupted. “And to those two poor Greys you killed.”

Venable’s eyes flicked to you, almost questioningly, as if she were asking for advice. You were too ashamed to hold her gaze. You stared down at the floor.

When Venable spoke again, her voice dripped with the same strained amiability she had used when addressing Coco the day before. “If you’d like, I could go over my reasons for such a punishment.”

Andre let out a low growl, baring his teeth. Venable didn’t flinch, didn’t let out the slightest sign of alarm; but you did, because you knew what she was doing, and you knew it would fail. You were the one who’d told her to try. Be kind. Trust in other people’s kindness.  

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you had time to let out more than one word, Andre barked at Venable. “We will hold an election. Tomorrow, in this very room. And you will be held accountable for the three people you ruthlessly murdered.”

“Soon to be four, you can count on that,” Venable spat back.

She was brave, you had to give her that. She glared right into Andre’s eyes as he yelled at her and frothed at the mouth, and Coco and Gallant and the others closed in on her like a pack of wolves. She didn’t blink, didn’t falter, didn’t seem the least bit scared. She simply waited for their wrath to subside, for the jaws to slacken and the muscles to relax.      

It did subside. It always does. Andre stood panting at a loss for words, and Venable tapped her cane on the floor.

“Is your pitiful tantrum over?” she gibed. She took a step forward, and he leaned away from her.”Now you hear me out. There will be no election. You wouldn’t last a day without my management and deep down in that useless, childish brain of yours you know it.” Venable smirked. “Now back off.”

Andre hesitated, clenched his teeth, took a few steps back. Venable’s eyes swept the room contemptuously. Her gaze lingered on your face a second too long. Those were the same eyes that had smiled at you and sparkled with stars and softened at the mention of cyclamen and wild violets. Now they were pitch black and so frighteningly cold.

Contradictory feelings were waging war on each other in your head. Too many successive victories and defeats, Guilt crowned winner and the second after stabbed to death by Anger who was immediately dethroned by Love, betrayed by Fear banished by Regret with the help of Guilt murdered by – it was too much. You could have banged your head on the walls and painted them red with your blood.    

You prayed for numbness. You walked down a corridor, up a staircase, down another corridor, completely oblivious to your surroundings. Andre and the other residents would not relent, you were certain of that. But neither would Venable, and she had half a dozen armed minions under her control. But what if the Purples asked the Greys for help? A few words and promises exchanged behind a closed door would be enough to constitute an army. Guns wouldn’t matter, then. As Gallant had said, Venable and the guards would be greatly outnumbered and easily overthrown.

And what were you to do? You didn’t like Venable’s rules, didn’t think they were fair but you had seen her. Caught a glimpse of her and loved what you had seen and knew you would never tire of it just as you’d never tire of sunsets. There wasn’t a single universe in which you’d be okay with her getting hurt.      

Someone grabbed your shoulder and shoved you against the wall. You winced in pain, tried to push them away, but an elbow dug into your collarbone and kept you in place.

“Why, hello there,” Venable hissed in your face.

“What the –“

“Are you and your little friends having fun?” She gave you another shove, and your shoulders slammed into the wall.

“You’re hurting me!” you cried out.

“Good,” Venable snarled, but her grip on you loosened.

You met her eyes, shivered at the anger you saw burning in them. Fear washed over you, but was soon replaced by something else, something much worse – guilt.

“Look,” you mumbled, “I –“

“I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question,” Venable growled. “Are you and your friends having fun?”

You fumbled for words, tears springing to your eyes. “I’m not – I didn’t –“

“You didn’t what?” she snapped, cruelty ringing loud in her voice. “Think? Meant for anything bad to happen? Aren’t you the most feeble-minded moron I ever had the displeasure to meet!”

She waited for an answer, but you couldn’t give her one. Your tongue was too thick, your mouth too dry.

“Damn it Y/N this is all your fault!” Venable cried. And this time there was no cruelty. This time you heard her voice waver, and saw the fear spill into her eyes.

It felt like the floor had vanished from under your feet. Without Venable’s grip on your shirt you would have collapsed.    

“I know,” you whispered brokenly, tears dropping from your eyes. “I’m so sor –“

“Oh, Ms Venable,” she mocked in a high-pitched voice, “you should really try and be kind. Oh, Ms Venable, trust me Ms Venable.” She gave you another push, but it was weak. “Well I fucking did and you walked out of that room with them!”

Her voice broke. It seemed to surprise her, for she recoiled and winced. And then her emotions were back under control, eyes hard and cold, voice colder still.

“As it turned out I was right,” she snapped. “Show kindness and the dogs come barking.”

You shook your head, let out a sob. Please no. You hadn’t wanted any of this, hadn’t meant to hurt her, to put her in danger. You’d encouraged her to put down her sharpest sword, her largest shield – and she had been willing to try, only to see her efforts backfire and blow up in her face. And you – you had walked away. You had left her to deal with the aftermath. You had irremediably broken the hope that’d shone in her eyes the day you had dropped a kiss on her lips.

You had no idea how to make things right again. And why on Earth was she even taking the trouble to talk to you? Why hadn’t she had you shot yet, made sure to get rid of you for good? Why had she ever smiled at you?

You wanted to hug her. To wrap her up in your arms nice and tight, kiss her cheek, promise her you’d keep her safe. You would wish it with all you had so it would have to come true. She would hear the honesty and the love in your voice and everything would be alright.

You couldn’t see very well through your tears, but it seemed to you her arm twitched, as if she wanted to reach out, as if she, too, was craving touch. She bit her lip, and looked away, and her eyes were too watery so you lifted your hand to stroke her cheek. Her breath hitched and she batted your hand away, her fingers slamming into yours.  

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, a quaver in her voice; her eyes looking everywhere but at you, her shoulders bending, and you tried to reach out again so she gave you another shove, and another, and another until she let out a noise like an angry, broken cry, leaned in and pressed her forehead against your chest.  

She gave in for three seconds, maybe five. Then she sighed and pulled back, and you were left with only a memory of her warmth and scent, your hand up where her head had been but your fingers threading through nothing but air.  

**

You tried to sleep that night but couldn’t. At one point you dozed off, and when you opened your eyes next your body was covered with sweat and your heart was beating too fast. You tried reading one of the books Venable had lent you. Five minutes later you were curled up in a tight ball and crying your eyes out.

The morning after you met with the other residents in the music room. Gallant was in a very good mood. Ash and Kyle were exchanging suggestive glances. You thought maybe Coco told you a story about something that had happened to her in her youth. Maybe you had half a food cube for breakfast. Then at one point Gallant raised both his arms and said something about voting. He had barely finished talking when Venable sauntered into the room and someone gasped, and then someone else shouted in alarm and you didn’t understand why until you saw the gun in Venable’s hand.

And her eyes were piercing, and her face was completely blank, and her hand wasn’t shaking when she pointed the gun at Gallant’s head.

But that’s not what happened. It couldn’t be, could it? Rewind.

Coco had stopped in the doorway and called after you. You had pretended not to hear. When she had called again, you’d stood up and planted yourself defiantly beside Venable. And Coco hadn’t even looked that surprised.

That night Venable had kissed you again, longer, bolder, giggling into your mouth. You had seen her with her hair down and no make-up on. In the morning she had counted the freckles on your shoulders. And you two had lain in bed staring into each other’s eyes, that beautiful, fond smile of hers creeping up her lips over and over again.

Better, so much better. Please, rewind.

Venable – Wilhemina now, Mina, darling – had made peace with the other residents. She had agreed to make some of her rules more flexible, and they had renounced holding the election. Coco had given you a pat on the shoulder, for she was your friend. You were a team, in this together. Venable had reached out for your hand, laced your fingers together.

The colours drained from Gallant’s face. He took a step back and held out his hands.

“What the fuck is going on?” Coco cried out. She made to scurry away, but she bumped against a chair and grabbed hold of your arm to steady herself. Her grip brought you back to the present.

“Wow wow wow, hold on,” Andre shouted.

“Ms Venable”, you heard yourself say.

She didn’t seem to hear any of you.

“Ms Venable,” you repeated. (Wilhemina, Mina, darling)

Venable blinked and looked at you, her gaze surprisingly calm and confident. You held out your hands and took one step towards her. “Please,” you begged – your hands were shaking – “please, put the gun down.”

Venable redirected her attention to Gallant. He whimpered, and Venable smirked.

“Ms Venable, put the gun down,” you tried again. She ignored you. “Wilhemina, please.”

Her eyes met yours, and you saw part of her resolve falter, but then her face hardened again as if to say, If I do, what then? This, is not a gun but the last rope tying me to safety. This is me holding control back before it runs away and hides where I can’t reach it. Would a shipwrecked sailor puncture their own lifebuoy to drown in the sea? And pray, she asked you, what do I have to lose if I pull the trigger? It’d be nothing compared to what would happen if I don’t. Safety would be ripped from me, safety not only from physical harm but also and most importantly from prying eyes and sneering mouths, from judgment, pity, disappointment and mockery. Pray, what do I have to lose if I pull the trigger?

Me, you answered boldly. You’d lose me. Maybe it’s not good enough a reason, maybe I’m just being pretentious, but you’d lose me and away with me would walk love, and care, and recovery. And I am sorry. I am crawling at your feet pouring apologies. I am braiding promises and dreams into your hair. I am smearing words of devotion on your mouth and saving the truest, the most rapturous of them – I adore you – to be whispered to your heart so it can mend itself. Tell me, darling, can I be enough?

Wilhemina’s arm was shaking. Stone-faced and afraid, she looked at Gallant, saw the hope in his eyes and the anger behind the hope that promised he would be cruel. Her aim lowered from his head to his chest. Gallant’s shoulders straightened. Two seconds passed, and Wilhemina’s eyes veiled over as she put the gun down.

It seemed everyone in the room released their breaths at the exact same moment. Coco’s grip on your arm loosened. The room itself grew brighter.

For a moment Gallant was too stunned to react. Then something like a smirk but uglier twisted his face and he ran his eyes up and down Wilhemina’s body. You saw her stiffen.

She raised her eyebrows arrogantly. “Consider this your lucky day,” she snapped.

Gallant scoffed. Before he had time to move, you planted yourself protectively in front of Wilhemina – she was holding a gun, you were completely defenseless, but at that moment you would have taken a hundred bullets for her without a second thought –, clenched your fists and glared.

“Back off, Gallant,” you warned.

Gallant frowned at you. “We’re getting rid of her, Y/N.”

“Like hell you are.” You took a step forward, casting angry glances at everyone. “Ms Venable’s the only one here who can run this place. We know nothing about nothing. All we do is whine and laze around while she makes sure we have something to eat every day. Everyone else is dead. All the other Outposts have been overrun. Have you ever asked yourself why we’re still safe and alive?”

You paused to take a few short, angry breaths. Coco, Kyle and Ash lowered their eyes and stared at the ground, but Gallant and Andre still looked mad. “Please, guys. Think this over.” Another pause. Gallant’s gaze softened. “We’re all in this together,” you tried. “The only way we can survive is if we stick together.”

“She fucking killed Stu,” Andre barked. “She’ll pay for that.”

“Stu was contaminated,” you retorted. “His very existence threatened ours.”

“Bullshit,” Andre growled, baring his teeth. ”And deep down, Y/N, you know it. She’ll kill us all if we don’t take action first.”

“And we’ll die without her anyway,” you countered.

It went on for what felt like forever. Andre and you, snarling arguments at each other and you thought it would never end. But there was too much at stake, so you pushed on and on rephrasing the same ideas until Kyle lay his hand on Andre’s arm. Then it was him and you against Andre, who eventually deflated and backed off with a mean, angry look in his eyes like a wounded predator.  

You turned to Venable. She had not uttered a single word since she had lowered the gun. Her face was inscrutable. Now she made a few snide comments and left the room. You gave Kyle a grateful smile and hurried after her. Damn the others and what they would think of your behaviour. Let them talk. Let them natter and speculate.

Venable walked down the corridor as if she owned the place, hips swaying to the rhythm of her cane. You followed on her heels, now and then glancing down nervously at the gun still in her hand. The candlelight glinted off it.

To your surprise, Venable headed to her bedroom. She opened the door, turned, and looked down on you haughtily. “And what do you think you’re doing?” she asked imperiously.

That threw you off for a second. You straightened up and studied her face. “May I come in with you?”

Venable’s face was unreadable. You had no idea what was going on in her head. Silence stretched for so long, her gaze so intimidating that you were about to give up and avert your eyes, when she stepped aside to let you in.

You pretended to look about the room as Venable put the gun away in the drawer of her bedside table and sat on the bed. You shot her a sideways glance, noticed her hands were shaking. She was staring straight ahead of her, eyes hard and brooding. You bit your lip, trying to think of something to say. “And I thought it was boring here,” is what came out of your mouth.

Who could blame you, really? People use humor as a shield all the time.

“That’s because you’re a hopeless moron,” Venable snapped. She sounded a bit breathless. You cast her a worried look.

“I,” you started, but then you fell silent. You didn’t know what to add after that.

Venable grabbed her cane to stand up, but her hands were shaking so badly now she dropped it. Her next breath came out with a wheeze.

“Wilhemina,” you called worriedly.

She held out one hand. “Don’t,” she panted.

She tried to stand up without her cane, almost made it; her face contorted with pain as her legs buckled and she fell back on the bed. You ran to her.

“Don’t,” she hissed again, arms twisting to avoid touching you.

“Alright, take a deep breath –“

“I said don’t!” Her right hand slammed into your chest to push you away, but then her fingers clutched your shirt to keep you close. She heaved for breath, her eyes meeting yours in alarm.

“Hey,” you tried. You laid a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I won’t let them hurt you.”

A breath out, painful and short. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“I won’t,” you repeated, almost a growl.

Wilhemina’s free hand shot up to her chest. “I can’t –“she gasped, fingers tugging at her lace collar as if it were trying to strangle her. “Please, I can’t –“

She was losing control. Entirely. Not only of the situation but also of her body, her oldest, worst enemy. And you saw the terror in her eyes, felt her fingers clutch your shirt so tightly you thought she would tear it.

“Please I –“she repeated, voice small and breaking.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” Your fingers wrapped around her wrist, thumb rubbing circles to try and ground her. Gently, you pushed her hand against your chest. “Can you feel it rise and fall? Can you breathe with me, darling?” Her shoulders relaxed slightly at the last word, so you said it again, staring into her eyes as you tried to give her a smile. “Just like that, darling. You’re doing so well.”

She sucked in a breath, let it out shakily. You whispered words of encouragement as she copied your breathing, your thumb still rubbing circles on the back of her hand. Her eyes were wide, silently asking for help, seeking reassurances that she would be alright, that this pain would not last. That she would get to hold the reins again and be safe.

When she interlaced her fingers with yours you smiled again, and this time it reached your eyes. “There you go,” you congratulated her. She gave you a smile in return, small but true.”Take one last deep breath for me?”

She did, shoulders rising, gaze softening. You brought her hand up to your mouth and kissed her knuckles.  

“God,” she whispered with a shiver, “I hated that.”

You laughed softly. “It’s called freaking out,” you teased. “It happens to most people.”

She rolled her eyes at you and poked your arm. For a moment she gazed at you dreamily, then she sat up, and smoothed her hands over her skirt.

“I already miss giving orders,” she said. Her voice was playful, but you heard worry in it, too.

You hummed, considered her words. “Well, I’m here if you need someone to boss around.”

You almost regretted your words when you saw the malice in her eyes and the smirk that slowly crept up her mouth. But all she did was bite her lower lip, glance down at your mouth and whisper, “Kiss me.”

You kissed her cheek, soft and hot, to promise her tenderness. You kissed her eyelid, fluttering closed, to promise her protection. And at last you kissed her lips, home, to seal the promise of love.

When you pulled away, her eyes had that same peaceful, relaxed quality you had first caught a glimpse of when she had sat in your room and flipped through your books. It softened her whole face, pastel colours of a summer sunset succeeding to the vivid white and yellow of the afternoon. You grinned at her, drunk with love.  

“Kiss me again,” she breathed, voice barely audible, eyes half-lidded. You eagerly obliged, dipping your lips in hers, the sweetest, most intoxicating of liquors. It burnt its way to your heart and lit up your whole body with desire.  

“I think,” she whispered into your mouth, as her hands slid up your waist, “I think I might amend one of my rules.”

You groaned and sucked gently on her lower lip to taste her. “Please,” you rasped.

“I meant the one about the dress code,” she smiled. You scoffed. Banter seemed so easy and natural to her behind closed doors, and you loved that about her.

One of your hands came up to stroke her hair. Your fingers found a hair pin, tapped on it wistfully.

You pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “Can I…“you whispered. She raised an eyebrow, not quite catching your meaning. Your finger tapped on the hair pin again. She did understand, then. For a moment she looked uncertain, and almost shy, but then she nodded.

Reverently you pulled on the pin and buried your hand in her hair, combing your fingers through it to pull it free. Your other hand came up to remove the bumpits on top of her head. Her hair tumbled down her shoulders and back, rough and fiery red just like the rest of her, ends perfectly trimmed somehow even though she had been living at the Outpost for months. You twisted a strand around your finger, stared at her in awe.

She tried to hold back a smile, failed; her eyes were bright, and the softest of pinks was blooming on her cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” you breathed.

She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “You are,” you insisted, cupping her face. “You look like the sunset. Red and purple and pink.”

“Pink?” she questioned.

With a smirk you poked her cheek. “Um, yes. You’re blushing.”

Her brow furrowed. “I’m not.”

“I’m afraid you are,” you chuckled.

“I’m not.” She bit her lip. “Kiss me again,” she ordered.

**

You pulled on her hair, hard, and planted open-mouthed kisses up her neck. You felt her throat vibrate as a moan escaped her.

“Easy now,” she hissed, raking down her nails down your back, a glorious sting.”Don’t get too bold.”

In lieu of an answer you sucked on the soft clammy skin just below her jaw and smirked as she shivered against you. “I’d never dare, Ms Venable.”

She groaned and unceremoniously pushed you onto the bed. You stared up at her, hungry and predatory, and opened your legs. Her eyes flared. She sucked in a breath, stroke her hands up your thighs. Her nails dug into your skin where your legs met your hips. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

You bit down on a smile. “No,” you whispered, meaning to tease her just a bit, to give her the opportunity to exercise her authority and to show her control was still well within her grasp.

Her thumbs were massaging the inside of your upper thighs. You were soaked, burning, and entirely too ravenous for her. “Kiss me,” she repeated.

You brought a hand up to her cheek and gently stroked it. “No,” you taunted.

Her eyes flared again. She slapped your stomach. Your hips bucked, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. “I said, kiss me.” A low growl, so ferocious and threatening you would’ve felt uneasy if it hadn’t been for the fond, grateful expression in her eyes. But you frowned slightly, and she noticed, and smirked.

And she was beautiful, cheeks flushed, red hair tousled and the skin of her neck and shoulders adorned with your love marks.

She lunged at you, tongue darting out, to lick up your throat, wet and hot and entirely too enticing. You squirmed under her, your fingers burying in her hair as she nipped the skin along your jaw.

“I’ll say it one more time,” she growled into your skin. She raised her head to meet your eyes, her teeth grazing your skin. “Kiss me.” Categorical, peremptory. So fierce the very ground quaked. You gazed at her in awe.

A smile. A finger slipping under her chin, pulling her to you. A kiss on her lips.

[ravenadottir]

what do you think the characters would be doing after the show/how would they be using their platform? for example, i think lottie would be using hers to give people astrology readings and stuff and i think the season 3 mc would be sooo problematic online

ok but you know what? definitely! s3 mc would be causing the stir she wanted to in the villa and couldn't. i'm almost certain she would be raging and saying absurd things to get attention, something like gabby hana you know? BIG YIKES.

one thing is certain... all of them (purposely or not) would be making thirst traps... and definitely supporting masks and registering to vote. so that's a certainty for almost all of them.

lottie. witchtok constantly. not necessarily giving readings but she would be an apologist and majority on that tag. her instagram would be split into two accounts: one for her personal endeavours like thirst traps and *looks of the day*, and a second for her brand as a makeup artist/personal stylist. cause i think that would be so fucking cool! lottie knows how to perpetuate her personal brand and would use social media for that as well. here's some edits i did in the past to explain it better. i headcanon a collab with elisa for wigs that they would both wear on social media, so that's something i really like! plus, advocating for women's rights, especially when a male politician says something dumb, so you know, EVERY SINGLE DAY.

bobby. in the middle of the pandemic? can't help thinking he would be doing some humorous videos, but in my head they're not the funny type. just some cringey ones... don't get me wrong, but bobby is only funny when he's not trying to, and in social media he strikes me as the type that not only makes videos but also puts the towel over his head to play a girl, so that's probably the majority of his content. some food of course, and DEFINITELY some *cute* selfies that he knows it works as thirst traps. i think he talks about registering to vote and blm, but doesn't give his opinion on anything else, politics wise. here's bobby's feed for the rest.

gary. i'm not thrilled to inform that gary would be thirst trapping all the time. now that he's relatively famous there's no reason why not posting those pics and videos. between tik tok trends to show off his muscles, and instagram to... well, do that exact same thing, he might take some time to show nan and the soup kitchen, but overall... thirst traps. possibly being blunt about masks and registering but his content is very closed off. also, he will get a dog and encourage people to adopt. there's a lot of pranks on dicky and vice versa, so that's something i thought for his social media, just couldn't find a good faceclaim that has a variety of pics.

lucas. mostly bringing awareness about covid and the use of masks, probably pointing it out a couple of political disputes, and definitely advising people to be careful about their votes all around the world. i like to think he's a huge advocate for legalization of a certain practice that women have to beg to have (you know the one), and i think he knows exactly how to make a thirst trap without making one. stop asian hate and blm carrds present, and often giving his followers the incentive to donate. DEFINITELY 'look of the day' for at least the weekend, and lots and lots of landscape from the places he's been visiting or wishing to.

henrik. he's everywhere and he takes his phone to talk about it. no doubt henrik is having the time of his life by travelling alone, or with his wife, and doing lives at all times. i think you would see him doing lives in the middle of the night, or watching the sunset/sunrise with his followers, besides making his *questionable* forest foraging and recipes. survival videos? MOST LIKELY THAN YOU THINK. here's his social media, where i covered mostly of what his relationship would like on instagram. (heavily based off "beyond the hill").

carl. the amount of rpg on his stories? immaculate. chess? you bet! lots and lots of carl's launchings for his company, which does have a separate account but he can't quite separate himself from it and it shows on his feed. his relationship would be discreetly displayed with cryptic captions since he's not so sentimental. here's his feed with some personal things he would be encouraged to post and boost that confidence of his.

anon that asked for more hannah stuff, this is for you:

hannah. i have one for her because i do like her aesthetic. don't mind the faceclaim, it was the only one i could find in so many situations. horses, books, some *cute* selfies, travelling pics and more. on tiktok definitely booktok, no doubt about it. she might do a lot of the "telling the story of my book as a story time" trend to promote it and say "technically it's real life."

elisa. it's all about branding and she knows how to do it well! some influencers might not get political because of how they can be perceived but i think elisa doesn't give a flying fuck about that. she talks often about blm and vaccines on her stories. i get a jackie aina vibe from her when talking about brands that support/encourage dark skin models and influencers, so that's a plus. she will give shit to a makeup brand that doesn't care for shade range and won't hide her feelings about it. here's her usual feed, with looks and tours (that i'm certain she would do a lot). i also think she'll eventually cave and have a brand of wigs, clothes and makeup, AS SHE SHOULD.

hope. there's no question about her activism on social media and i like to imagine she would be speaking up against anti-vaxxers and racism, mostly. just like yewande, she would probably talk about every time she felt the show might've favoured people that don't look like her. we would be getting the hot tea on everything since she's so honest. there's also lots of looks and promoting her friends' products because she supports them so much. priya's clothing line, elisa x lottie collab, etc. here's the feed i made for her a while ago.

chelsea. she might not be that deep into politics but she'll talk about covid and how people should be more careful about it, "wearing all these cute masks my babes lozza made for us!". LOTS of *look of the day* and tours on the spaces she decorates, besides the behind the scenes of parties and weddings (of ex-islanders) that i know she would throw. her feed also includes her closet, supporting her friends' endeavours and promoting them, besides some random mug collection shots and FOR SURE a pug selfie with mc.

priya. there's not much to say except for the occasional thirst trap (with those amazing thigh, ffs she should), lots of vaccine warnings, definitely political anecdotes and her clothing brand. i love to think she would have an actual boutique once things get settled after covid, and she would use social media to promote every line. her feed consists mostly of her travelling, designs, supporting the girls and her photoshoots.

kassam. lots and lots of backstage photos and that *prickly* way of demanding people to use their brains and wear a mask, besides getting the vaccine. in studio or just before the stage, selfies with a clothing line with his logo and definitely pics with islanders he didn't get to meet but is now friends with. during covid he would be using his lives to play for his followers, like lots of dj's and musicians i've seen doing on reddit and tiktok, probably called "late night music" or something like that. encouraging followers to donate for causes as well.

noah. not so huge on social media, might be the most discrete of them all. there would be lots and lots of pictures of the mornings before he opens the library, because i sincerely think he would keep his job. not the most outspoken about certain matters but carrds like the blm's and 'stop asian hate''s are on all of his bio's. i do like to imagine him taking selfies with the boys from the show, like ibrahim. he would be so present in noah's feed it's not even funny. the casual "cute unintentional" thirst trap too. family photos from ages ago and lots of his siblings as well. he does love to write long captions for whenever he posts his girlfriend. one thing though, during the first few months on the outside, he wouldn't be so present, afraid of facing the bashing on him if he got with mc in the show. that could be a reason for him to stay away until people "forget" about it.

marisol. SO - MANY - SUITS - SELFIES it makes me cry happy tears. between advocating for women's rights in a more technical way, she would definitely be using her platform to also talk about lgbtq+, especially after the realization she had during her journey. lots and lots of activism about those things, and i think she would be doing a fine job. definitely promoting the girls' products/services and an occasional thirst trap with a braless suit look.

rocco. covidiot. (i just wanted to use this nickname one more time). he might get a hard time from followers and villa buddies because of his stance on vaccines. i just hope he reads some articles instead of sharing bibity-bobity-bullshit on facebook and instagram. there's lots of vaccine memes on his comment sections no matter what he posts though. it's gonna take a while for the public to move on.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Inside “The Pact”

Hello! For those of you that followed along with The Pact, I received a few questions and requests to get an inside look. I’ll link the post here that explains a bit more about what this is gonna be about. 

We’re gonna break this down into sections: first will be answering your questions about The Pact & the characters. Then I’ll show you guys a little about my notes & decision making process (which is very obscure because I just tend to keep a hypothetical tab open in my brain most of the time lol) as well as some pictures of my ideas!! 

Thanks for requesting such a fun thing to do now that this series is over. It’s been fun to look back!

Q. What song did the boys dedicate to y/n?

A. “Her” || This is a sad song, but I felt like it fit so well with how the boys had to hide a part of themselves (their feelings) away for the sake of the pact!

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Q. Did the boys get mad/how did the boys react to Jungkook’s kiss?

A. Jungkook was a little shocked, and felt extremely guilty on the drive back home. He wasn’t sure if he could stand to tell his hyungs, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to them. Naturally, the second he walked in the house and everyone saw his face, they knew. It was just quiet, everybody was a little hesitant to say anything/bring it up because they were all upset. Only Jimin has heard all of the details of JK’s kiss, whereas the others are simply aware that he kissed her and that’s that.

Namjoon was the most upset, although he didn’t say anything. He just sat there on the couch and did the jaw-clenching thing he always does. Yoongi just tried to change the subject and ask about other aspects of the date. Taehyung was actually pretty pissed, especially because he’d been so good about refraining from kissing you even when you’d asked for it. Hobi had a chat with him later that night and calmed him down. Jin wasn’t angry so much as he was worried that he missed his shot & couldn’t stop replaying his date in his head.

--

Q. Who fell for y/n last?

A. Namjoon. He’d had a little crush, and that’s why he was willing to go along with the pact. But it hit a point less than a year ago when he fell hard and fast. (you called him in the middle of the night when he was on tour and he realized that your sleepy voice is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard) The boys noticed and as a result teased him endlessly about it, because he doesn’t quite know how to navigate his feelings. 

--

Q. Who did the boys bet on? (We already know that Jimin bet on Yoongi and won lol)

A. Namjoon bet on JK, Tae bet on Hobi, Hobi bet on JK, Jin bet on JK, and Yoongi bet on Jin, and JK bet on Namjoon (because we all know JK would pick Namjoon lol)

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Q. Didn’t y/n ever date other guys? How did the boys react?

A. hahaha ok I actually would have such a fun time writing this Yes, she dated around a bit. For the first year of the pact, she had an on again, off again bf. It wasn’t very serious, and she always made that clear to the boys. They still hated the dude. After they broke up, she only went on a few dates here and there. Didn’t really seriously date. (except for that one time she went on vacation and had a fling, but everyone has decided to forget that) They just smiled and supported her, although Tae was always very clear that he didn’t like any of the guys she dated. 

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Q. In Namjoon’s date, who was the 1950′s author mentioned?

A. Agatha Christie, the queen. 

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Q. How did y/n meet Jimin? (he was the one that introduced her to the rest of the group)

A. She was a PR intern for Lee Hyun. Jimin and Lee Hyun are close, and they crossed paths fairly often until Jimin decided to invite her to hang out. 

--

Q. What is y/n studying in school?

A. Public Relations (which will honestly come in handy with her new relationship lol)

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Q. Where was Jin in the last chapter when y/n came to the studio?

A. Agh how could you ask me this and bring back all that pain?! Jin was at his brother’s restaurant for some much needed R&R. He ended up staying the night with him, not wanting to go home just yet and have to face his decision.

--

Q. Who would you personally choose to end up with and why?

A. KIM SEOKJIN. Date #5 was basically for me lol. Like, unapologetically wrote that for myself. Not just because he’s my bias, but because I personally felt like I could picture myself chilling on that couch watching Dateline with him. And it was beautiful. 🤧 Also, while Jin can be loud and goofy, he’s an introvert. I’m an extravert with introverted tendencies, so I just feel like his date would have been the most comfortable for me.

--

CREATING THE PACT - AN INSIDE LOOK AT MY NOTES

First thing’s first, I have an on-going page in my notes on my phone which is FILLED with ideas & half-formed thoughts. Before I began writing The Pact (or even Spooked, for that matter), this happened:

So you can see that I had no idea what I was doing lol, but I thought that it would be cool. Mainly I wanted an excuse to write OT7 and display all the members in a sweet light. Also, we see that not all of these actually made it into the series. (Tae w/ the family)

BUT THEN, “SPOOKED” HAPPENED, AND A GOLDEN OPPORTUNITY POPPED UP 

ngl, I cracked up when I looked back at my notes and saw this. 

“Sweet Gloria what am I doing to myself” 😂😂 this was when I was pushing “Lost & Found” out and planning for Taehyung’s series (which is why so much is blocked out on my notes, because it’s riddled with spoilers lol) so I literally had no idea why I was jumping into another project as I was already super busy. That’s why I scheduled it for just Saturday’s! (and also why I sometimes posted super late at night lol)

As you can see, Seokjinnie’s date was literally always on my mind. From the very beginning. Which is odd, considering the fact that he didn’t end up being endgame. wow it’s like he’s my bias or something

Occasionally I’d take breaks from hw and work on getting to know how the boys were with y/n. Quotes and poetry serve as a great source of inspiration, and I assigned a quote to each member. (notice the little stars by Jin, Yoongi’s and JK’s names lol, they were my top three as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now)

There were a couple of things that I didn’t think of adding until I was reading through your theories and got an idea of what you needed to push the series in the right decision. i.e. bringing Gina back to explain that she closed the door in Spooked. 

I have a whiteboard in my room that I use to map out what I need to do that week for whatever series I’m working on (as well as jot down ideas for new series, which I why this photo doesn’t show the whole board haha) 

So here’s a peek at my thought process for writing about how the pact was formed. Sorry if you can’t read it haha

NOW, the last few questions you guys had:

Q. Did you ever change your mind while writing the pact?

A. Yes! I actually originally intended for Hobi to have written the note. It fit very well with how angry he was at first and how worried he was during the date. But by the time I'd gotten to Jin’s date I kinda knew that he wouldn’t be that petty but Jin would haha

I also planned on Yoongi kissing y/n on their date. It was supposed to be on a rooftop somewhere, which we know didn’t happen. In fact, I didn’t really intend for their date to be so disastrous until I was coming closer to having to write it. I think I was a mess, so the date was a mess lol

I had no idea what I was doing for Tae’s date until I wrote it, all I knew was that there had to be a museum. The rest I just made up as I wrote and hoped that it made sense. (also, for some reason I hated the museum portion of the date. Idk why, but it just felt so stark to me. still don’t like it lol)

Q. When did you know how it was going to end? 

A. That’s a....difficult question lol. Honestly, I thought of just doing an audio recording and uploading it because it I didn’t really know how to put it into words, but then I realized that most people probably wouldn’t wanna listen to that lol. So here we are. 

I had the ending scene in mind before The Pact even became a thing. I knew I had a series that I wanted to end with baking cookies. (weird, I know.) It didn’t exactly go how I planned, but I remember having the thought while writing Spooked (when I thought I was just writing a one shot) that it would be nice for y/n to be with Yoongi. I just instantly felt like they had a connection, when he was the first one she went toward. From then on out, I always kinda kept Yoongi in the background. 

I had a crisis about halfway through (right before Jin’s date) when there were a bunch of people rooting for Tae, because he hadn’t even been on my radar. But then Jin’s date went much better than I thought it was going to/received better, so I think that got me back on track. 

But from the beginning, Yoongi was #1. (I wrote this in the back of my Career’s notebook lol) when I was trying to figure out for myself who wrote the pact. 

So yeah! There you have it! Just an FYI, I had to physically restrain myself from throwing caution to the wind and making Jin endgame. Especially when so many of you were on board. :( However, the survey helped because Yoongi was the majority of votes (closely followed by Jin & JK) and that showed me that we were still on the right track! 

Ngl, my brain stopped working around Wednesday of last week, so writing the finale took FOREVER because nothing would compute. But I’m so happy you guys enjoyed it and reached out to me about it! This really is like a part-time job most days, and I really felt like this series paid off. 

Hopefully I covered everything! To end, here's the most satisfying part of every project for me:

Thanks guys!

[girlactionfigure]

There's something I need to get off my chest.

I'm an Ultra-Orthodox, Chassidic, Hareidi Jew. I live in Jerusalem, in an area that is exclusively Ultra-Orthodox Hareidi for street after street, suburb after suburb, for miles and miles. In all of these neighborhoods where the roads are blocked off and no cars drive on Shabbos, each black-hat-wearing family has many many children and literally no TV’s. I personally only ever wear black and white clothes, my wife only dresses in Chassidic levels of tznius (modesty), and my boys and girls all attend mainstream Hareidi Chassidic schools where the main language is Yiddish. My kids don’t and never will have smartphones, nor have they ever been on the internet at all. Period. They don’t know what social media is and they’ve never seen a movie — not even Disney animation. 

Having lived exclusively immersed in this culture for the last 21 years, I think I'm sufficiently qualified and well-researched enough to state that the consistent depiction of Hareidim and Torah Judaism by mainstream media, from Netflix to the daily news, is somewhere between delusion, slander and the literal equivalent of racism. If you consider yourself less closed-minded than how you imagine we Hareidim to be, then permit me to share a few personal details about my family, and other families in our neighborhood, to see how well your mental narrative matches up to reality:

- Besides learning Torah each day, most of the men in our neighborhood work full or part-time.

- Many women in our area work. Some even manage their own business or company. These are not special or “liberated” women — it’s so normal here it’s not even a discussion point.

- My wife is a full-time mother by choice, who despite attending an Ivy League College,  finds it a profound and meaningful thing to dedicate her life to. If she didn’t, she’d go get a job. Mind you, she also attends Torah classes each week, works out with both a female fitness coach (who’s gay) and a frum Pilates instructor, writes and edits articles for a couple global websites and magazines, and personally mentors a number of women. None of this is seen as unusual. 

- Kids in our community go to Torah schools where they learn (surprise!) Torah. They are fluent in three languages from a young age and the boys even read and understand a fourth (Aramaic). All the kids learn grammar, math and science. Weekly after-school activities have included music (violin, drums, piano), Tae Kwon Do, swimming, art, woodworking and robotics. The girls' school teaches tools of emotional intelligence. The principal of the boys' school doesn't hesitate to refer to kids to OT if needed. I practice meditation with my children multiple times each week. None of our kids think the world is literally 6,000 years old. They devour books about science and think it’s cool. They know dinosaurs existed and don’t find that existentially threatening. They have a telescope with which they love to watch the stars. 

- The women in my family (like the men) only dress modestly according to Hareidi standards. The girls don't find this burdensome or oppressive. Period. They aren't taught that beauty is bad. They're certainly not taught to hate their bodies, God forbid. Each morning when they get dressed, they are as happily into their own fashion and looking pretty as any secular girl is. They just have a different sense of fashion than secular culture dictates. (Unfortunately for me,  it's no cheaper.)

- The local Hareidi rabbis we receive guidance from are deep, warm, sensitive, supportive and emotionally intelligent. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t go to them.

- My boys assume they will grow up to learn Torah, as much as they want to, and then when they’re ready, get a good job or learn a profession to support whatever lifestyle they choose. My girls assume they’ll be wives and mothers (which they can’t wait for) but they're also warmly encouraged to train in whatever other profession they desire. (My 9-year-old daughter, chatting with her friend in the living room, just commented, "I want to be a mother and a teacher and an artist." Her friend replied, "I'm going to be a ballet teacher.") All options are on the table, and their future seems bright.

- We love living in modern Israel, feel proud and blessed to be here, and frequently count and celebrate its blessings. Everyone in my area votes. Sometimes not even for Hareidi parties. I pay taxes. (And they’re expensive!)

- As a Hareidi person, I’m glad we have Hareidi representation in the government — though I don’t always love or approve of how the Hareidi politicians act, or what they choose to represent. For the record, I'm equally dubious about secular politicians, as well. 

- While I don't spend much time in Tel Aviv, I do have a few close Hareidi entrepreneur friends who have founded high-tech start-ups there, and are — Boruch Hashem! — doing very well.   

- We don’t hate all non-religious people. Our kids don’t throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos. I doubt they even know anyone who would do that or think that it’s ok. We frequently talk about the Torah value of caring for and being compassionate towards everyone. As a family, we proactively try to find ways to judge others favorably (even those people who throw stones at passing cars on Shabbos.)

- We invite all manner of religious and secular Jews to join our Shabbos meals each week and the kids are open, happy, and confident to welcome everyone. (No, we're not Chabad.) One of the many reasons for having such guests at our table is to teach the kids this lesson.

- While we would technically be classified as right-wing and we don’t at all buy the modern “Palestinian” narrative, we certainly don’t hate all Arabs, nor do we have any desire to expel them all from the land. We warmly welcome anyone seeking to dwell here with us in peace and we are pained and saddened to see the suffering and loss of lives of all innocent Arab families and children — as would any decent human being.

- Of the few local families I know whose kids no longer identify as religious, none at all chose to disown their kids. The very thought, in such lovingly family-dedicated communities, is hard to imagine. I'm not saying it doesn't happen, I'm just saying it's not as common as it's made out. Rather, these families have tirelessly, profoundly, compassionately committed to maintaining any connection with their children, and to emphasize that, no matter what, family is the most important thing. Because it is.

- We aren't just living our life blindly, dogmatically following empty religious rules; rather, we are frequently engaged with, exploring and discussing Torah's richness, depth and meaning. Our kids honestly love learning Torah, praying and doing mitzvos. They’re visibly excited about Shabbos and festivals. This lifestyle is in no way oppressive or burdensome for them. If you suggested to them it was, they’d laugh and think you were crazy.  

- We Hareidim are normal people: we laugh, we cry, we buy too much Ikea furniture, and we struggle with all of life's daily ups and downs, just like the rest of you. Some of our communities are more healthy and balanced, some are less so; some of our people are warmer, nicer and more open, some are more closed, dogmatic and judgmental; some of our leaders are noble and upstanding, and some are quite frankly idiots…JUST LIKE ANY SECULAR NEIGHBORHOOD IN THE WORLD TOO. But having grown up living a secular lifestyle myself, and today being Hareidi-by-choice, I can testify that in these communities there is generally a greater and more tangible sense of well-being, warmth, tranquility, connection and meaning. We love and feel blessed to be living this life and wouldn’t want any other.

If this description of Hareidi life is hard to swallow, be careful not to push back with the often-used defenses like: "Well, you're just an exception to the rule...", "You're just American Hareidim", "You're baalei teshuvah", "Well, I know a bunch of Haredim that aren't like that at all"....because the truth is, while there might be many Hareidim who aren't like what I described above, it's still an accurate description of literally hundreds of thousands of Hareidim in Israel and the US — a decent portion of all Hareidim in the world. Which is my very point — how come you never see this significant Hareidi demographic represented in the media, television series, or the news? How come we mostly see the darkest and most problematic cliches instead? 

And finally, if all the facts I've listed above about our communities are hard for you to accept as true, then perhaps the image you have in your head about Hareidim is less based on facts and reality and more based on stereotypes, fear, hate, and discrimination — like any other form of prejudice in the world. 

Care to prove me wrong? Well, you're welcome to come argue it out with me and my family at our Shabbos table on Friday night. It would be a joy and honor to have you. 

Doniel Katz