#i like a nice color sometimes but other times it can be absolutely horrid on me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lokisrare · 4 years

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birdie

pairings: ben hardy x ofc.

word count: 4.6k

a/n: i hate this but i love this, also, spoiler: i hate cassie. i don’t really know what it is, but let me know what you think and if you want to know what happens next lmao. oh, by the way this was heavily inspired by break my heart by dua lipa.

June 6th, 2010.

“Well damn, you look HOT.” I gushed when Sydney walked out of the changing room.

She sent a smile towards me while fixing her hair, it must’ve been freaking hard to get on that dress, I think to myself when I look up and down her body, the dress hugging her body just right, but still, the material looked incredibly uncomfortable and her face just confirmed that to me.

“I feel like someone’s pinching my nipples constantly, like here…, ugh it hitches so bad,” she says trying to fix the top of the dress and I laugh at her struggling to make the dress work.

“Syd, why don’t you try something else, you’re going to look good anyway,” all I receive is a death glare and I just know she’s telling me to fuck off while still trying to find a way to feel comfortable.

She huffs and gets into the changing room, closing the pink curtain a little too aggressively, I suppress a giggle knowing she’s having a hard time and I’d probably end up with my hair pulled if I keep making fun of her. “Everybody Talks” by Neon Trees is playing which makes me roll my eyes annoyed, it had become my young sister’s favorite song so it was on repeat almost every hour of the day, just listening to it gave me a horrid headache.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just go with the first one,” Sydney says finally getting out. I nod, a very genuine and happy smile plastered on my face, it was 6.30 pm and we had left my house at 4, to say I was hungry and tired was an understatement.

“I really hate you, Cass, you know that right?” Sydney says as we finally get to my house, most specifically: my room. I run straight to my bed, my back thanking me for finally having a moment to rest after being walking and standing still for three hours straight. “I don’t really know how you choose so easily; I just can’t decide when it comes to shopping.”

I smile with my eyes closed hearing Syd grabbing the make-up bag as she seats in front of the mirror, “I just go for black, that’s my secret, black’s the right decision. Always.”

“Your whole wardrobe is black, Cassie.” I don’t see her but I can tell she rolled her eyes, annoyed. “You could’ve at least gone for something red this time or maroon or grey.”

I prop on my elbows scanning my open (and messy) closet, well… maybe I owned a lot of black clothes but it is just a glorious color, or not actually a color but who cares, black just rocks and it was easily combined.

“I promise I’ll wear something else next time.”

Sydney looks at me with a sarcastic expression, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you won’t.” Nope, I won’t.

I grab the curling iron next to my night table: “Curls, straight or should I just go natural?” Sydney shrugs looking at me intently, her lips pressed together, after a few seconds she just clicks her tongue and turns around.

“Whatever you feel like doing today, babe, you’ll look pretty anyway,” she pauses. “And Ben will like it anyway.”

“SYDNEY, NO.”

“What?” She says smirking at me through the mirror. “Oh, come on you can’t possibly think I don’t realize, the tension is obvious,” she smiles satisfied at my petrified expression. “Besides he’s a Capricorn, Capricorn and Scorpios have AMAZING SEX.”

“SYDNEY” I shout throwing a heart shaped pillow at her while she laughs uncontrollably, “He’s my brother’s friend, your step brother and almost 3 years older.”

“Your brother does not care at all, I don’t either and you didn’t say nothing about the sex thing so you little bastards have been really sneaky about it but I’m the devil and I found a condom on the bathroom trash the other day,” I set a mental reminder to slap Ben when I see him tonight, “It wasn’t mine so it was either from my parents or from Ben. And your face just told me it was from Ben,” she stops and then wrinkles her nose, “Ugh, disgusting. Let’s move on from this topic, please.”

“You started it.”

“I thought he was fooling around with Candace, she’s been after him the whole year, it looks like she knows he’s leaving soon. Besides I heard the rumor they slept together, I’m sure she started it.”

“Yeah, I think she knows, that’s why she’s been so clingy.” I cringe thinking of it. “Well if it’s true then her wish finally came true.”

The disgusted tone in my voice making me feel kind of angry at myself, just as much as the thought of Ben fooling around with Candace and I know Sydney can tell. I wasn’t very surprised when I first found out she’d been trying to get his attention the whole year, her obsession with Ben wasn’t new and she seemed a little too desperate, but she wasn’t a bad person, maybe too much of a bimbo girl but still, a nice person and Ben had always found a way to avoid her.

When Malik came up to me with rumor it made my stomach turn, giving the fact that two weeks ago he had me pinned against a wall at some random party while we had a (very steamy) make out session hoping my brother wouldn’t find us. Fucking. Ben.

“I don’t think that’s true at all, I totally think she spread the rumor herself with some friend’s help.” I sighed at Sydney insistence, “besides the whole situation is so weird, he is constantly running away from her and just one day they, like, fuck? Uh-uh, that just not makes sense, maybe she’s blackmailing him.” I laugh at her occurrence. Only Sydney, of course. “I truly hope my theory is not true, that’d be, like, pyscho behavior.”

“Yeah, but still, it might be true, we don’t know” I say getting up and throwing the curling iron on top of my bed. Curls it is, I think. “I believe there’s pizza on the fridge, is that ok for you or what do you want?”

Sydney thinks for a few seconds, “yeah, pizza’s fine, I’ll just eat a tiny bit though because I want to get really wasted really fast today and that’s way easier if I have an empty stomach.”

“You’re going to die.”

“Oh well, but it’s not going to hurt if my drunk as hell.”

“Touché.”

The dress hugged my curves just fine but I still felt like I was trying very hard to convince myself I really liked the way I looked with this way too short dress and I hadn’t just bought it because I knew it would catch Ben’s attention; I was upset knowing I was just about to leave my house wearing something just not-me at all to impress a stupid boy.

He’s not stupid and you know it.

“You look gorgeous, breathtaking and completely uncomfortable.” I turned around, Syd was standing leaning against the door frame looking effortlessly beautiful, her blonde hair straight and the loose baby pink dress making her look absolutely angelic.

“I am terribly uncomfortable, and I hate the fact the I’m about to take it off because it costed me good money I could’ve used to buy something I actually liked.” I said raising my voice, feeling angry at myself again, for the same reason, “I hate myself sometimes.”

Sydney giggles as she looked through my closet, smiling triumphantly when she found what she was looking for: a short black skirt and a grey blouse.

“I love this outfit on you, please change, you’re radiating so much negativity wearing that outfit besides the look on your face makes it seems like it’s causing you actual pain to be wearing this.” She stated and then lowered her eyes to my feet, “Oh god, Cassie, take those heels off, those are not even your favorite ones, put on your white vans, do yourself a favor, please.” I groaned as I got up feeling defeated and absolutely ridiculous to say the least.

Once I was changed, I felt my confidence coming back again, I looked pretty and I looked like me, Sydney got up from the bed clapping happily.

“Yay! That’s my Cassie, you look gorgeous!” she grabbed my hand dragging me downstairs way too fast and excitedly, making my chest crash against her back when she stopped abruptly at the end of the stair, turning around violently, “It’s not like you didn’t look gorgeous before, it’s just… now you look gorgeous and your face doesn’t look like you’re in the middle of a funeral.” I scoffed punching her arm but a giggle escaped my mouth making both of us laugh, right before we saw the taxi parking outside.

“Ok, let’s do it giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirl.” I opened the door as Syd put two little vodka bottles inside of her little purse. “All done, and just to re-clarify, you look amazing and Ben’s going to love how you look, you really don’t need to try so hard, he already likes you.”

“Oh my God, STOP, let’s go Syd.” I said pushing her outside the house.

“Just saying.”

The house was packed, way too packed for a place so small, the air was filled with smoke from the cigarettes and the smoke machine placed on top of an old couch. I looked around trying to find my friends or at least my brother.

You’re looking for him.

I rolled my eyes annoyed at myself, once again. I wasn’t looking for him, or maybe a little, but it’s not like I was desperate. Or too desperate.

“My niñas, over here mis amores!” A curly haired boy calls from inside the little kitchen. Lucas. He had two girls clung to his sides, fighting for his attention, I smirk looking at him as he excuses himself with the girls and start making his way towards us. Poor girls, if they only knew.

“Ugh, I’m already hating this place and I’ve been here for just 20 minutes.” He states right after kissing Syd and I’s both cheeks.

Sydney takes the vodka bottles out of her purse making Lucas smile widely as he puts his hand on his chest. Oh my god. I already knew I was going to be tonight’s babysitter.

“Yas! You are my Blondie Number One angel, Syd.” Lucas grabbed her cheeks pecking her on the lips, looking behind them I saw the two girls from earlier, both with annoyed looks as they turned around to leave the place, Lucas hand grabbed my arm, catching my attention, “Why so distracted? Looking for Blondie Number Two?” He asked raising his eyebrows repeatedly. “He got in here right before you guys but since Candace the Crazy was looking for him since she got here, he completely disappeared.” He said looking around, his arms resting on Sydney’s shoulders, “Nope, Blondie Number Two’s not around. To be honest I’m kind of worried Candace is blackmailing him.” he stated clicking his tongue.

Sydney let out a very exaggerated high pitched scream, “I thought THE SAME and Cassie won’t believe it.”

“Guys, both of you are insane, completely insane, let the poor girl live.”

Hypocrite.

“Oh c’mon, two weeks ago you were ready to sneak into Daisy Clinton’s room to do the nasty with Benny-Boy for like the 100th time now you just don’t care? I don’t buy it baby, no no, not when you came in here looking like a lost puppy.” I opened my mouth ready to say something but Lucas spoke first also interrupting Sydney whom was about to complain since she was the last person to find out or to figure it out, actually, “And don’t tell me you were looking for your brother. I. Know. You. Cassidy. Peters.”

I just shrugged trying to not show him how fucking right he was, and also trying not to accept to myself I’ve been looking for him the entire time we stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen. Sydney gave me the finger and then made her way towards the improvised dance floor carrying Lucas with her.

Now I was seated on the corner of the living room watching Logan Lawrence, our school’s quarter back make out with one of the shyest girls from our school. Poor girl. She’s so going to regret it tomorrow… and forever probably. Logan was just that disgusting. I kept looking around when I started cursing at myself, I’ve been sitting here for almost half on hour looking at Sydney and Lucas get wasted just because I was trying to find the boy I was desperately craving for and he was nowhere to be seen, which was bad, but I had seen Candace dance around looking absolutely drunk, which was good, but it also meant Ben could be with any other girl, which was bad. Really bad. For me, of course.

My phone buzzed, three messages from Jonas, also known as my brother.

Jo: bring me a whisky pleeeeeeeease

Jo: no one will realize, I’m on the roof with the boys

Jo: please cass, be a good sis

I huffed but still got up ready to do what he asked me to, I mean, it’s not like I was doing anything better. I grabbed the bottle of whisky and a very drunk boy stared at me, I was ready for him to say something but he just smiled and gave me the thumbs up, I laughed a little and waved him goodbye as I made my way upstairs.

How the fuck do I get to the roof?

Cass: how do I get there?

Jo: first floor, the room with the green door at the right, take the stairs

Jo: be fast, there’s like a lot of people getting at it

Well fuck. Once I got to the first floor the green door was the first one I saw, an AC/DC poster on it, I breathed in and opened it, trying to get used to the dark looking where the hell was the supposed way to the roof; not giving a single fuck I opened the door again learning a lot of lovely words from the people hiding in there, I was about to say something to them when I saw the hole on the corner of the bedroom’s ceiling and the wooden escalator right under it. Of course.

The relieve my ears felt when I reached the roof was glorious, I took a few second to enjoy the feeling when I felt a hand on my shoulders, grabbing harder the whisky bottle ready to snap at whatever drunk boy who was trying to annoy my little moment of peace I turned around but I was met with Blondie Number Two, or just Ben.

“Easy, Cassie.” He laughed grabbing the bottle from my hand and lending it to my brother who was right behind him with a knowing smirk, I sent him a death glare.

“Hi, Cass, having fun?” He said slurring his words, oh my God, obviously Jonas Peters was a lightweight and now I had just brought him a big ass bottle of whisky for him to keep getting drunk.

I looked to him and then to Ben who stood way too close for my liking, I was able to smell his perfume. My mind travelling back to Daisy’s room when I was pressed against a wall, his hands roaming trough my whole body while I left love bites all over his neck, getting drunk on his scent.

Stop it. Answer the question.

“Absolutely not.” Jonas pretended to cry and then blew a kiss towards me as he left to join his others friends, they were just as drunk as him, or even worst. Ben cleared his throat making me look his way taking in his appearance, black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, so good looking. Maybe that’s what I liked him so much, it seemed his closet was also full of black clothes.

He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Well, thank you. “He said, a smug expression plastered on his face just as the color drained from mine. WHY?

I sighed, putting on my best annoyed look trying desperately to make it seem I didn’t care at all. Liar. “Don’t flatter yourself, I did it on purpose.” He nodded, the little smirk still lingering on his face as he stepped closer to me, hooking his arm around my shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, Birdie.” I groaned at the nickname and Ben threw his head back laughing at my annoyance.

“Don’t call me that, Ben. I don’t go around calling you Blondie Number Two.” I tried to let loose from his arms but he just held my tighter, starting to walk and dragging me along with him to sit closer to the edge against a wall, the big tree in front of the house blocking the street lights making it hard to see clearly; once we both were sitting I was finally able to get off of his embrace, looking down trying to ignore the fact that Ben was so close to me, and we were alone in the –almost- dark.

“But I always call you like that, you should be used to it by now… Birdie” He said right after getting comfortable on the floor. I huffed. No. I would never get used to it because I felt embarrassed and angry, angry at myself (as always, of course) for being so obsessed with him since forever.

I saw him light a cigarette from the corner of my eye, before turning back his attention to me, blowing out the smoke, “it fits you, you’re so… free, I don’t know, so you,” I looked at him attentively, lost in the way he chewed on his bottom lip while he tried to find the words, “I mean…, ugh, you know what, nothing. It just fits you because you’re beautiful and birds are also beautiful and interesting and also fucking smart”

I really didn’t know how I managed to not throw myself to him right there. To everyone, Ben Jones was this incredibly confident good looking college boy every girl wanted but to me he was just Blondie Number Two: Ben Jones, the boy whom just had compared me to birds because I, apparently, am: pretty, interesting and intelligent and now just stared at his cigarette nervously waiting for my response.

He was trying to be romantic, cute or whatever about the nickname but we both knew really well why he called me that.

“You’re and idiot, Ben.” I punched his arm lightly, “you could’ve jus explained it that way ten years ago when you started calling me that. Seven-year-old Cassie would’ve have been happy with it.”

He shrugged, “I figured you hated me.”

“I threw myself from a homemade zip line to impress you, I surely did not hate you.” Ben choked on the cigarette smoke looking at me with a funny expression, “I just never talked to you because Jonas wouldn’t let me, it wasn’t cool if his little sister tried to be friends with his friends.”

“The whole zip line thing was just to impress me?” I nodded, “well fuck, Cass, I appreciate it, you almost broke a bone back then.”

“Good to know you do now, finally.”

He finished the cigarette, throwing the filter somewhere and got closer grabbing my legs and placing them on top of his, I felt drowned to sit completely on his lap but held back that need while looking intently into his eyes trying to figure what he wanted, his left hand travelled to my lower back as he stared at my lips, my breathing slowly becoming erratic I just wanted him to do something.

“W-what are you doing, Benjamin?” He smirked, his hand resting on my back pushing me up so now I was fully sitting on his lap, his right hand caressing my thigh making me look up and down, from where his hands were drawing circles on my leg and then back to his plumped lips.

“I’m just trying to show you some gratitude after all these years of you trying so hard to get my attention, Birdie” He said, his voice coming out really low making my insides tingle and my cheeks burn, thank God for all this darkness surrounding us.

“Can I kiss you?” I felt so desperate, our lips gracing as his hands kept caressing my thigh not letting me focus on his question completely.

“Why are you even asking?”

“Just being a gentleman.” He said gripping my waist harder, a whimper coming out of me provoking a smug smirk to creep on his face.

“Oh, shut up.”

I grabbed his face finally kissing him, smirking against his lips when Ben let out a throaty moan breaking the kiss for a few seconds but kissing me back hungrily as I fully straddled him, his hands going automatically to my hips gripping harder when I bit on his bottom lip, licking it with my tongue. Ben captured my lips with his again, I was so high lost in the moment as our lips moved in complete sync I wanted to stay like this forever. He pecked my lips before resting his head on the wall behind him while both of us tried to control our breathing.

“I fucking want you, Birdie.” He said getting closer to my face to peck my lips one more time, “but we are not doing this here, not with your brother and our drunk as hell friends just a few meters away.”

I groaned remembering the fact that I was in a roof and also in the middle of a party and as much I was wanted him, he was right.

“We can go to my house, my parents are gone for the weekend and they took Layla with them,” Ben’s eyes shot open, his right hand brushing the locks of hair falling on my face as he smiled satisfied, “besides Jonas is staying at Will’s today.”

“Then let’s fucking go.”

He grabbed my waist and got up with me still on top of him, I laughed against his shoulder as he settled me back on the floor and took my hand to guide us out of the roof. He walked towards the group of boys, two of them were already passed out on the floor while Jonas and Will vibed to Pursuit of Happiness, the bottle of whisky was empty.

“You two. We are leaving, don’t drive, walk or just take a cab.” Ben said, his voice firm as the two other boys glanced at each other and then started laughing.

“Yes, father!” Will saluted and I couldn’t help let out a laugh. Ben gripped my hand tighter and I looked at him, he was trying to suppress a laugh too.

“I’m serious, Will. Be safe.” Will just nodded as he laid on his back again.

“And I’m serious, Benjamin Jones.” Jonas said stepping into the conversation. If he was slurring words earlier now he was just a mess, I rolled my eyes at the drunk ass of a brother I had, “Don’t make me an uncle,” my mouth opened to say something but the words weren’t coming out, “at least not on my bed or on the couch, if you please, now leave, my children.” And that’s all he said before passing out on top of Will legs. Ben looked at my horrified and I just stood there.

“Does he know?” I asked right after he took my hand to lead us toward the hole on the floor.

“I mean it’s not like were not pretty obvious. You keep looking at me completely stunned every time.”

I scoffed. “Like you don’t do the same.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He winked at me and then started to go down the wooden stair.

Once we closed the green door after another round of cursing from the people inside the room, Ben asked me to wait for him as he went to the bathroom and just then, during my time alone I realized I left and never told Syd or Lucas, and I had been gone for -maybe- longer than thirty minutes and then so suddenly the name Candace came back to my mind; turning towards Ben who was coming out of the bathroom fixing his hair, I got to him and he looked down at me confused but smiling.

“What?”

“Are you and Candace a thing and I’m just being that girl?” I was fuming, not really because I was being that girl but because of the fact that I hated the thought of him with someone else.

Is not like he wasn’t aloud, we’re nothing.

Ouch.

Ben rolled his eyes looking, to my surprise, annoyed. “That fucking girl. I was just being nice to her for once and now she goes around spreading bullshit. NO, Birdie, there’s nothing happening with Candace. That’s why we were on the roof, I was avoiding her, she’s a pain in the ass. In my ass.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.” He said closing the distance between us and kissing me softly, this time was way different than before, and I was loving every second of it, “why can’t you see you’re the one I want, Birdie?” he said against my lips and I felt my legs trembling at his honesty.

“We should go.”

Why didn’t I say something back? Why didn’t I say I wanted him too? Because I did, I knew that. I was stupid. Well no, actually. I was afraid and I knew it deep down, back then, I just didn’t want to come to terms with it. I was afraid of getting too attached to him that when we had to take different paths it was going to hurt so much. That’s why I never said nothing.

After some promises from Syd and Lucas to find my brother and Will and take a cab the four of them together we left the house holding hands, my house was maybe ten blocks away, a little less maybe so we decided to walk, enjoying each other’s presence, none of us saying nothing. I felt Ben’s gaze from time to time but I was too submerged on my own thoughts, drowning in them and hating to be feeling that way when I should’ve been enjoying our little moment.

Both of us knew it probably was the last time we’d see each other but none of us said anything, or I didn’t say anything, Ben had made it clear a few minutes ago. And I wanted him, but I also didn’t want to hold him back and that’s exactly why what I really think and felt was never said.

And after ten years it still haunted me.

Now the same horrible feeling growing on my chest, I was feeling as nauseous as I felt back then when I said goodbye to him knowing I was escaping from what I really wanted out of fear, because I was a coward but I was also seventeen and experiencing a feeling so hard it numbed my thoughts.

Now I stood in the middle of the room, the glass of wine long forgotten on my hands as Sydney’s hand gripped on my arm sympathetically and I felt thankful because otherwise when I saw him entering the place, looking exactly the same just more mature; his cheeky behavior that made everybody love him still present, I felt so out of place, my knees shaking a little, or maybe it was just my imagination.

8 years after.

“Blondie Number Two has ARRIVED!” I heard Lucas yell in the distance.

And I just had to get out of here. Fast. The world was literally spinning around me as I looked at everyone greeting Ben with a hug, the ones who didn’t know him just stared at the scene smiling.

“Cass, we can leave, there’s no need for you to be doing this now. It’s fine.” Sydney whispered.

“No. I’m ok, this doesn’t affect me, not really.” I shrugged and she just stared at me not saying anything but her expression showed concern and tiredness towards this whole situation. “It’s just, it’s been so long and I’m just shocked. That’s all.”

Sydney opened her mouth to protest but closed it immediately looking behind me, right then, almost instantly, a very well known cologne filled my nose before I could ask her what was going on.

Oh crap.

And there he stood, in all his glory. Just as handsome, his confident aura captivating everyone around us, just like always. I extended my hand to him provoking Ben to just smile and roll his eyes taking my hand just to tug me into his arms, hugging me sweetly as my face was stamped against his chest, not reacting.

Do something. I mentally shouted at my self.

My hands travelled to his sides, finally embracing him. This felt nice, I thought. It felt familiar; way too familiar for two people who hadn’t seen each other for so long.

Ben moved his head, lowering it so now his mouth was right next to my ear, sending a shiver trought my whole body, the action being too intimate for the place we were in.

“Long time no see.” He whispered really low for me to hear it properly thanks to the music playing in the background, but still managing to knock the air out me when he got even closer and simply said: “I’ve missed you… Birdie.”

Now I really wanted to leave. Again.

#ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy smut #bohrap #borhap imagine #borhap x reader #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x reader

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zankivich · 5 years

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The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 7

a/n: this is like my favorite chapter so far. I feel like I’ve been waiting this whole story to ge tot watch these two interact in this way. I hope it comes across as authentic. I worked really hard on the pacing for this story. You all have been incredibly kind to me lately with feedback for this story and I sincerely hope you keep it coming. It is without a doubt the brightest part of my days recently. Thank you so much for that. K bye.

WARNINGS: sex without a condom (gotta wrap it before you tap it). mentioned of white supremacy, racism, and micro-aggressions.

*Shawn’s point of view*

Nothing ever simultaneously works out. It never all gets to be perfect. His life had been a memoir with that exact theme and yet somehow he always let himself forget. Y/n leaves and he somehow has a date with her. A date. Not a hookup. Not some elaborate set up to make her cum. A date. With like conversation and personality. He hadn’t been on a date in years. And sure he knew he was really good at sex, but that didn’t mean shit about being able to actually hold a conversation. She was lightyears above him mentally, and he had no idea how he was going to manage to not fuck it up. But he had a date. She said yes. And that within itself was a win. So of course something in his life was going to have to go to shit. Hold that thought.

Brian makes it back sometime between his gym run and a shower. By the time he gets out, the asshole is sitting on his couch fucking up his kill rate on COD.

“Move over, jerkoff! And switch to two player.” He grunted plopping down on the couch beside him.

“Jeez, bro take it down a couple notches. I am nursing a hangover from the depths of hell over here.”

“Not my fault you can’t ever handle your liquor.”

“Well Melanie seemed to think I handled it just fine.”

“Melanie sounds like she’s still never had an orgasm before.”

Brian punched him in the bicep which only resulted in him returning the favor. Idiot.

“Not all of us sneak our hookups in in the middle of the night.”

He rolled his eyes fingers smashing on the controller.

“I didn’t sneak anyone. It’s my fucking apartment you idiot.”

“Yea, sure, whatever. Did you at least hook up with someone new?”

His fingers stumbled on the joystick, sending his player headfirst into a grenade. Lovely.

“No. No I didn’t.”

Brian looked over at him. “You fucked the same girl again?”

“I don’t think we should be equating Melanie and y/n here. y/n is a woman. A grown ass woman. Trust me, she never lets me forget.” He snorted.

“What is up with you and this chick? You never fuck the same person twice.”

He supposed now was as good a time as any. He actually was going to need shit for brains’ advice.

“I like her okay! I like her. And we hooked up last night but it was...it was different. I didn’t tell her what to do. I didn’t pull out any bells or whistles. I just...We just had sex. And she kissed me like she liked me too. So I asked her on a date.”

“A DATE?! I haven’t seen you go on a date since you were like a child!!”

“No shit, jackass. I’m going to need every fucking ounce of help I can get. And that includes your ass, unfortunately.”

“Stop pretending you don’t love me bitch. Now tell me how you plan to get a thirty year old woman who isn’t on drugs to actually enjoy spending time with your sorry ass.”

What are best friends for?

***

*y/n’s point of view*

y/n: I HAVE A DATE.

y/n: I NEED YOU HERE ASAP

Tiana: Oh shit. K. omw.

The last time you went on a date was in 2016, what some might call the beginning of Armageddon. After a slew of horrid dates, you had been completely and totally ready to throw in the towel. But then this cute guy came out of nowhere. He was nice, sweet, not very funny but in a way that made you laugh. He was also persistent enough to not take no for an answer, without it making you uncomfortable. No immediate red flags. So you went on the damn date. And all was well. It wasn’t an earth shattering date, but you weren’t not enjoying his company. And then it happened.

I just really think Trump will genuinely make America great again ya know?

You nearly choked on a piece of lettuce.

“Really bruh? In front of my salad?”

“No just hear me out though. Is he unorthodox, sure. But Hillary? Hillary and those emails. It just wouldn’t have worked.”

“I absolutely understand what you mean.”

“You do?” He smiled.

“Yep. CHECK PLEASE!”

“Bitch we do not have time for you to disassociate I am trying to make a wing here!” Tiana huffed.

You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone working to still your features so that Tianna could continue with your makeup.

y/n: Are you a republican?

Shawn: Well thank you for asking, I’ve had a lovely day. How was yours?

y/n: I’m serious.

Shawn: I’m Canadian.

“Shit. I’m so stupid.” You whined.

Tiana tugged at your chin. “Not stupid. But NOT still.”

“Sorry, ti.”

y/n: Would you have voted for Trump if you could have?

Shawn: No. No I wouldn’t have. What kind of a person do you think I am?

y/n: Idk. idk. I just needed to be sure. It never came up when you were tying my arms behind my back.

Shawn: You didn’t mention political discourse as one of your kinks. Is there something I should know before tonight?

y/n: No. It’s fine. I swear. Just haven’t been on a date in a really long time. And my last one didn’t go so well.

Shawn: It’s been a long time for me too. But I’d really like to have a go at it, if that’s okay with you?

y/n: yea, I’d like that. Should I meet you at your place still?

Shawn: Actually I’m gonna pick you up. I’ll be at your place at 7?

y/n: Oh. Okay.

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm what? What’d he say?” Tiana asked.

“I’m not meeting at his place anymore. He’s picking me up.”

“Well where is he taking you?”

“If I knew that, Ti would I be sitting here in a ball of anxiety?!”

Tianna dropped her eyeliner brush and reach instead for the body lava. All hail Rihana.

“I sure hope he dicks you unconscious for a few hours. You have got to relax, sis.” She giggled. “It’s going to be alright, okay? He likes you. You like him. Let that be enough for right now.”

“Okay. Okay. Just...make my titties sparkle? Please?”

“Lord, chile. You don’t pay me enough.” She snorted.

Friendship!

***

Shawn: I’m here. Do you want me to come up?

y/n: No need! Here I come.

Outside your apartment building is one of those SUV hummer situations that you only ever rode in when you were visiting one of your artists on tour. Shawn is standing outside the door of the vehicle, and you can’t help but pause right there in the middle of the sidewalk. He traded the black jeans for a black slack that hones in on the fact that he’s most definitely not wearing a chelsea boot for the first time ever. They’re dress shoes. Like proper, wing tips. And he’s wearing a short sleeve button up with yellow, black, and white stripes. There are enough buttons undone to see the way that his rosary necklace melted into the firmness of his chest nestled amongst the most sinful amount of chest hair. God, where the hell had they made this one at? And how the hell did he wind up at my front door?

“Hi.” He smiled, legs crossed and chest broad. “You look really beautiful.”

You peered down at the jumpsuit you’d picked out with Tiana’s help. It was a really pretty shimmery gold color and the entire back was cut out too. In hindsight, it didn’t seem nearly as impressive as to what he was wearing now.

“Thank you. You look pretty beautiful yourself. Really showed me up tonight.”

He laughed. “Yea, sure. Come on, it’s cold out. Let’s get going.”

In the car, there’s a bottle of champagne and one of the playlists that you recognized from Shawn’s apartment is playing softly in the background. He pours each of you a glass, your legs somehow knotting simply together on the floor of the car. It’s weird in that it’s not like a first date in the traditional sense. You put his balls in your mouth for one. He licked orgasms out of you like ice cream. But the nerves are still there. You find that you care about what he thinks of you, of how he feels about you. That’s new. And scary.

“So uh...where are we going?” You asked between sips of champagne.

He bites his lip and looks nervously over at you. It’s a new look for him. But one that you find solace in.

“Would you be angry at me if I said it was a surprise?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No. But I would be curious as to what that surprise is.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll know soon enough.”

“I think I heard that line one time. I think Hannibal Lector said it.”

He rolled his eyes and threw his head back and you wished it didn’t make you giggle, but it does.

“Funny.” He smirked hiding behind his glass. “I just wanna impress you a little bit. Is that okay?”

“You wanna impress lil ole me huh?” You smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“Just a little.”

He licked his bottom lip and his hand inched its way up your knee. He was warm. Way too warm to not have your body react a little. Rude.

“Whatever happened to your friend from the other morning? Am I taking you away from him?”

“Oh Brian?” He snickered. “He’s just happy he’s got my place to himself. He couldn’t believe I was going on a date at all.”

“Tiana either.” You snorted.

“Yea? She try and convince you not to go out with me?”

“She is...surprisingly Pro-you for some reason. Must have something to do with me not having enough time to be a bitch as work with our arrangement and everything.”

“Hmmm. Well it’s nice to know I’ve got one person on my team. Maybe by the end of the night I can win you over too.”

“Maybe.” You smiled.

The car eventually rolls to a stop, and you’re not even aware of how long you’ve been talking. All the nerves that you couldn’t actually be together without the sex part sort of faded away. He could make you laugh. He could hold your attention. And you could offer him the same. Just when you were starting to think that it was all going to be fine? Shawn came to open your door.

Your heels touched gently to the ground and you let him pull you from the car. Behind him was not a restaurant. Not a bar. Not even a fucking hotel. Nope. Instead you were stood right in front of Mendes Industries’ private jet and a fucking flight attendant with a bag in her hands that looks surprisngly like your Louis Vitton. Fucking Tiana.

“What the hell. Shawn, what the hell?!” You gasped. “What is this?”

“You were concerned about people seeing us right? Well no one’s gonna see us. No one but the locals.”

“The locals?! I can’t--I can’t just fly away with you Shawn. I have responsibilities. I have a--a job.”

He reached for your hands, which tended to do a lot of movement when you were flustered, and stilled them by placing them on his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” He murmured silencing you. “It’s already set. Tiana canceled all of your meetings for three days. It’s just three days. Look I...I really like you, okay? More so than I know what to do with right now. And I think that you like me too. Do you like me?”

“Y--Yea! Yea, of course I do. That’s not really the point is it?”

“It is. Just get on the plane. Please? I just wanna take you out. Let me take you out.”

You peered up at him, all soft brown eyes and chiseled everything else. He had really come along out of nowhere. It was incredibly disorientating, and intoxicating. You lived your life by a planner, a set time for every hour by the hour. And here he was asking you to throw that all away, to let yourself be something else for a chance. And it wasn’t all that different from what he asked of you in the bedroom. Just let go. Release.

You sighed. “You know when most guys ask to take a girl out? They don’t mean out of the state.”

“I’m not like other guys.” He shrugged.

“No shit. Where are you taking me, white boy?” You groaned letting him steer you towards the plane.

“Try to contain your excitement.” He snorted. “Remember that time we had sex in the back of a storage room during Khalid’s video shoot?”

You smiled awkwardly at the flight attendant and knocked your arm into his shoulder.

“Oh please. We’ve had this jet since I was fifteen. I’m almost positive my dad has done some incredibly sketchy shit on here. Martha knows all. Thank you Martha!”

He leads you to a seat. There’s more champagne. You don’t know how you got here. This man was wild.

“Get to the point, maybe?”

“Right. We hooked up in the storage closet, and you told me that story about how you missed your high school trip to Rome because your mom was having heart problems and couldn’t afford it with the medical bills? You had a Lizzie Mcguire fantasy and everything.”

“I was drunk that night. Khalid had just gotten his first number one.”

“So you don’t want me to take you to Rome?” He asked.

“ROME?!”

“Rome.”

“....Who are you?!”

He chuckled. “I’m just a guy standing here asking a girl to let me take her on a little trip.”

“Oh my god. He quotes romcoms. This is too much.”

“Just relax sweetheart. We’re about to do liftoff.”

Jesus Christ.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s a little worried that he may have broken her. Maybe it was too much too fast. He should’ve just taken her to fucking dinner like a normal person. The problem was he wasn’t normal. And she sure as hell wasn’t normal either. She was so different from anyone he’d ever been with before. He wanted to spend time with her. And the last thing in the world he wanted was her to think about his dad while she was with him. He could tell that it bothered her more than she was willing to admit, and he just needed them to be on equal footing. What said equal footing like going to a country where neither of them spoke the language. Tiana had given him the green light when she agreed to change y/n’s schedule around and even pack her a bag. It seemed like maybe it might go well.

She calms down after her first glass of champagne, and sits more comfortably into the seat next to him, her legs folded so that her knees poked gently at his thigh. She was closer, close enough for him to smell her perfume and he kind of loved it.

“So are first dates the one’s where we spill all of our dirty laundry, or is that the second one?” She asked.

He chuckled and laid his hand on her thigh. She smiles at him, so he doesn’t pull away.

“Your guess is as good as mine. Do your worst, woman.”

She situates herself a little more gently into the chair, chin propped up on her palm. He gets lost in the glitter on her collarbones and neck.

“Why haven’t you been on a date in a long time?” She asked.

Heavy first question. But he told her to do her worst.

“Well I uh...the last date I went on was with my girlfriend of about two years. And on said date she told me that she had been sleeping with a producer at Atlantic records for six months, and that he was going to share her demo. So, she didn’t need me anymore.” He shrugged around a sip of champagne.

“Two years? Two fucking years before she pulled that shit? That’s fucked.” She said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yea. It was really heavy at the time. Blamed my dad for a lot of it, even if it probably wasn’t his fault this time. But ever since then I just thought it might be easier to stick to the meaningless sex route.”

She nodded. “I fuck that up for you a little bit?”

“You have no idea.” He grinned rubbing his thumb along her chin. “I should’ve known the second I caught you checking me out at that party.”

“Excuse me? For the last time I was not ‘checking you out’. I was simply observing that snooze fest your father put on.”

“I was checking you out.” He admitted honestly. “I asked my dad to introduce us. I just knew I had to have you. And then I spoke to you and I found out you were trouble, and you weren’t going to take any of my shit. I should’ve known then.”

It’s a lot softer than anything he’s ever admitted before, and every time that he remembers that this is more, that they’re trying to become more, it makes his heart stutter in his chest. But she leans her head against his seat and she smiles at him like it means something to her to be open, to be vulnerable. And that alone is enough to get him to lean in.

“So maybe....maybe I was looking in your direction.” She says softly. “I’d heard of you. I’d just never actually seen you in person before. And maybe I was curious.”

“Curious?!” He laughed. “Okay. Curious. We can call it that; I’ll take it. Your turn. Worst date. Spill.”

She groaned softly and slid a little deeper into her seat, head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.

“I accidentally went to dinner with a Trump supporter.”

“Accidently?” He snorted.

“Don’t laugh asshole! It was thoroughly traumatic for me. I just thought that logically a white supremacist would not be interested in asking me, a black woman, on a date. I forgot that logic is not in their wheelhouse. It was awful.”

“Now your texts make a lot more sense.” He chuckled reaching his arm to pat her cheek. “That enough to take you out the game, aye?”

“I don’t know man...the world is fucking scary right now.” She sighed. “Sometimes it feels like there’s no one we can trust, like there’s no one who doesn’t have it out for us. It’s not just political agendas. It’s my safety. It really is that deep. It has to be.”

It’s this moment where she’s offering more of herself than she had in the entire time that he’d known her. Y/n was beautiful and sexy and intelligent, but there was also always this aura of mystery around her. Like she wasn’t quite ready to share herself, didn’t know if she could. And he wanted to find his way on the other side of that. He wanted to know her better than she knew herself. And he wants to cherish any moment where she’s willing to let him try that.

“I understand.” He paused and closed his eyes feeling maybe a little flustered and out of his element. “I mean I don’t. I know that I don’t, that I couldn’t but..I hear what you’re saying. And I believe you. I would like to know more at some point. If you’re willing to share it with me.”

Her eyes flicker over to his and they’re wide and brilliant and he wants to kiss her so bad.

“You do?” She checked.

He nodded and chanced reaching to pull her face a little closer, palm resting against her cheek.

“I do.”

She kisses him and it feels like the sun. It feels like everything.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

Rome is kind of perfect. It’s not so hot that you’ve got to cover yourself in deodorant, but the sun is still pretty and bold in the sky. The hotel he takes you to has an entire terrace open for your access with those flowy ass curtains you only saw in cheesy 80’s pop music videos. There are couches that might as well be beds there so soft and plush. You touch down in the middle of the night and there’s not much to do but keep talking to each other, keep touching each other. You take your shoes off and sit out on the couches wrapped in blankets with another bottle of champagne. If the redness in his cheeks is anything to go off of, he’s just as tipsy as you, and it means that it’s not weird when you lean into him. No one’s gonna say anything for letting him hold you.

“It’s four am right now.” You giggled hiding your face in his neck. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yea. I really do. I always wanted to come here. I can’t believe this is our first date.”

“I wanted it to be special for you. You deserve that.”

“Since when?” You asked so thoroughly confused by everything that he was. “I mean, yes. I definitely deserve this but...when you did you realize that you want it to be more than what we were? I thought you just wanted to fool around?”

“I did.” He whined stubbornly tracing your nose with his thumb. “I really did. But...you are very good at sex.” You laughed and he smiled. “I’m serious! One of the best partners I’ve ever had. And sometimes when our bodies were moving I just got lost in you. Like you were a fucking beautiful ass star capturing me with your light. And then you stopped arguing with me so much and just letting me be like...a friend to you? And then Miami happened and I just--I wanted to be with you. And I realized that I wanted to be with you as a person, even when we weren’t having sex. I was scared. Until I realized that you liked me too. Then I got my confidence back.”

“Oh lord not your confidence.” You rolled your eyes.

“You have got to stop acting like you are not all up on this okay? I see the way you stare at me, honey. It’s okay. Let yourself give in to Mendes Magic!”

“I am officially not attracted to you anymore.” You snorted going to pull away.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and tackled you down to the couch. Your laughter poured out into the night as his fingers dug into your belly. You laugh until your stomach aches. Until there’s tears in your eyes. Until he kisses you and you feel it in your toes. Until the only thing you can think about, feel, smell, is him. And you melt like that against the couch.

***

Rome is beautiful. It’s the most beautiful place you’ve ever been. The sun rises in the sky and you’re up immediately tugging Shawn out of bed. There’s breakfast at this little place near the hotel that looks out over buildings that were unlike anything you’d ever thing. Everything was historic and rustic and so endlessly different from everything you’d seen before. It was really like something straight out of a movie with cobblestone walkways and buildings that were works of art themselves. It’s wild. It would be wild on any day of the week. That was before you looked over your glass of wine to this guy smiling at you like the beauty of the city around him meant nothing in comparison to looking at you.

You liked him. Shit you liked him a lot. And every time he looked you in the eye and hung on every word you said? It just blew you even further away. And you kept trying to remind yourself how unrealistic it all was. You were thirty afterall. The two of you were in different times in your life. He was still holding on to every word his dad said. You had plans for your life, for your career. It was hard to figure out whether or not he could fit into those plans. And maybe that wasn’t first date type of thinking, but hello! He took your ass to Rome. None of it was normal. So you walked a little faster, tried to hold harder to the moments that you had to share. Cause why not?

“Hey can we slow down for a sec?” He asked as you pulled him towards your third museum of the day.

You frowned. “I wanna see the ruins.”

“We can. I promise. Just let’s sit down for a second, yea?”

You’d been walking all morning, stopping at every nook and cranny that you came across. It was a three day trip anyway. You had no idea when you’d ever be back, if you ever would be back. But there’s something special about the company too. You remind yourself that he’s the reason you’re there. The vacation, though amazing, was really just an opportunity to be with him.

“Yea, of course.”

He tugged you to a little corner of these big huge steps that were filled with people just sitting down, chatting, eating their lunches. The second you’re no longer standing on your feet is a little bit like heaven.

“Okay make you were right.” You sighed wiggling your toes. “I’m tired.”

“Well that’s good. I was starting to think you were a robot.” He chuckled. “I’m glad I packed tennis shoes.”

You peered down at his feet and quickly laced your legs with his where the white tennis shoes stuck out in contrast to his black jeans.

“They look so funny on you. I like them. You’re cute.”

He smiled over at you. “I’m cute, aye?”

“You heard me.”

“Yea, well maybe I wanna hear you say it again.” He murmured taking your cheek into his hand.

“You’re cute.” You whispered before pressing your lips together.

You had yet to get over this new style of kissing. The way he rubbed so softly at your cheek you got goosebumps. The way his tongue could make you feel like time was slowing down. Almost like there was nothing left here. Nothing but the two of you and the way you could make each other feel. It was maybe the best feeling in the world.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured when the kiss had ended, forehead pressed against yours. “I can’t believe you’re here with me right now.”

“I can’t believe you whisked me away to a different country for our first date.” She hummed. “What are you hiding? Do you have a third nipple or something? A serial killer perhaps?”

“Why are you so insistent on me killing people?” He laughed. “And you’ve seen all of my body at this point. If there was a third nipple don’t you think you would’ve seen it?”

“Well you’ve got me there. But statistically speaking at least fifty percent of all murders probably fit your description, honey. I’m just being realistic. I’ve seen what you can do with rope.”

He rolled his eyes and he found that it made you smile. And so he tended to do it more and more often. That’s kinda how you knew you were fucked.

“What do you say we go see these ruins of yours, find some pasta, and fuck until we fall asleep?”

“As long as it’s in that order!” You gasped tugging him back to his feet to continue your wild adventure of the day.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s got a new kink. And it’s definitely her calling him baby when he’s inside her. It is without a doubt the sexiest thing she could do for him. Which makes so little sense. How fucking soft had she turned him in a few short months? This is where he was now, almost blowing his load because a woman called him baby. It’s not just a woman though. It’s her. Holy fuck it’s her, and the sound of her voice is like directly tied to his dick or something. Shit.

The couches on the terrace are perfect for sex in broad daylight. It’s completely secluded to just them, but anyone at the other hotels around would easily be able to hear them if they opened a window. It’s just another thing that seems to get them both hot and bothered. Her body is a dream. And he doesn’t need to tie her up to get lost in her. (Even if he really, really liked tying her up). All he needs is the feel of her body against his and his hands to direct her where he wants her to go, where he needs her to go for both of them to explode.

“Fuck.Honey you’re dripping. You’re dripping all over my dick.” He groaned tugging her thighs more ruggedly against his own.

“Baby I--I wanna cum.” She gasped, voice breathy and chaotic as her hips bucked like a fucking dream. “I wanna cum on it. Please?”

“It’s yours. Cum on it. Make yourself cum.”

He reached around her waist to grind his fingers deep into her clit. Her ass began to bounce against him, quick and sharp and rugged. He’s barely holding on by a thread. And then she starts to squeeze down on him, her hips working to bring herself to her own climax, and he’s already done for.

“Fuck! I’m cumming.”

His fingers work harder on her clit, dropping down to his knees to drive desperately into her with everything he’s got left inside of him. It thrusts her over the back of the couch and he plasters himself against her back grinding tightly with everything that he’s got.. When she cums it’s just another accomplishment, another moment of making her feel good. It’s all he’s ever really wanted since they met.

“Holy fucking shit.” She gasped collapsing against his chest. “So good.”

“Yea? Still think I can’t dom you and date you at the same time?”

“Shhhh. No one has time for you sir, I can’t feel my legs.”

He nuzzled his way into her neck placing kisses against the skin. His arms were still wrapped around her and her fingers were playing in his hair. It was different than their usual hook ups, for sure. But, he liked it. He liked feeling close to her. He liked touching her and feeling her heart beat beneath his finger tips. Did she know how amazing she was?

“You want me to go get a towel?” He asked softly, pecking at her ear.

She hummed. “Not yet. Don’t leave yet.”

God he was ruined. Just like that.

“Yea okay.”

***

She hops in the shower and he has every intention of following her, of maybe pressing her into the shower door and fucking her until the glass breaks. But then his phone starts ringing and she giggles and runs off leaving his dick to twitch against his thigh. He was stupid on her. Aboslutely idiotic. And whoever was getting in the way of his idiocy was about to get an ear full.

“There better be someone dying!” He huffed eyes still very much on the shower where perhaps the most beautiful woman alive was waiting for him.

“That can be arranged. Can you explain to me why I had to find out from Tiffany that your half whit ass is in Rome right now instead of New York?” His dad roared.

Remember that whole things falling apart narrative? Surprise.

“Shit. Dad look I..I just needed to get away for awhile okay?”

“On the comapny fucking jet nonetheless?!”

“That jet has been open to family members as long as I’ve been alive. Since when is it even a problem?”

“Since you’ve been on that jet more than you’ve been in my office. I am tired of trying to explain this to you Shawn. The rules are very simple. You work for me, you do a good job, you get your inheritance. If you don't, you know what happens Shawn. Is that what you want, to make me have to do that to you?”

“Look Dad I,” He let his voice drop softer, shyer. “It’s not what it looks like. This isn’t just me fucking off okay? I--I like someone. Like really like them. And I just wanted to impress her. She’s different. And I wanted her to like me. This isn’t one of my hookups, I swear.”

He hadn’t liked someone in so long, hadn’t even come close to what he was feeling for y/n. Even though his dad was a dick and they had fought since the time he was eleven, there was still a part of him that yearned for his approval. It was hard not to get caught up in what the world knew his dad to be. It was hard not to feel like if he could just make him proud, just make him happy, then everything would be okay. He hadn’t been that naive in a long time, but it still pulled at him every now and again.

Manny sighed. “Great, son. That doesn’t help the fact that you went behind my back and are continuously neglecting your duties.”

“I--I’m not though. Niall is sitting at sixteen songs as we speak. You only wanted twelve remember? I convinced the producers to look into doing a deluxe edition. That’s gonna make the label happy, Niall happy, and it’s more money for you right? I’m back in LA in a week to work on the roll out for Sarah Leone to the press. I’m kind of working my ass off here. I’m doing everything you wanted.”

“Look whatever just get your ass back to New York, okay?” He muttered.

“I’ll be back in two days.”

“Shawn.”

“Two days. I’ll be back in two days, and I’ll keep living in this hell of a life you’ve set up for me , alright? See you then.”

He tossed his phone back onto the bed in frustration. The noose tightened a little in his absence, sick and tired of always fighting and always losing. It seemed like no matter what happiness he carved out for himself, he was always going to have to return home. Maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe there was no winning in this life.

He stands there for like forty-five seconds feeling sorry for himself, and just fully like a piece of shit. And then he hears her. It’s soft and gentle and sweet. He moves a little closer to the bathroom, the door still open and her naked body visible through the foggy glass door. She’s singing.

“I’m like a bird, I’ll only fly away.” She cooed softly. “I don’t know where my soul is, I don’t know where my home is.”

Her voice was soulful and low, her fingers cupping her breasts and rolling down over her hips as she sang. It really kind of hit him in his heart. He leaned against the edge of the doorway, head lolling back for support at this gorgeous sound coming out of this gorgeous woman. The music lover in him just wanted to sit on the floor and listen to her all day, it was so pretty. Maybe map out some harmonies for the two of them. And the fact that he could see the smile on her lips as she sang only made his heart feel two times too big for his sturnemum. He wasn’t ready for the way that she could make him feel. He thought he’d known that, thought he was preparing himself. Not so much. He wasn’t sure one could prepare themselves for a woman like y/n. Maybe that was his lesson to learn.

She catches sight of him out of the corner of her eye and her lips glue firmly shut. He practically pouts when she stops singing. His arms crossed against his chest tighten in dissatisfaction.

“What are you doing?” She whined leaning her head out of the shower.

He shrugged. “Was just listenin’. You didn’t tell me you sang.”

“You didn’t ask. And I don’t. I was just...humming.”

“Humming?” He laughed softly. “Okay. Well you hum beautifully.”

“Well thank you, I suppose. Was your phone call okay?”

“No. Not quite but, I’m good now. Can I wash your back for you maybe?”

“Yea. Boy, you ain’t gotta ask to wash my back. Come on!”

He steps back into the steam of the shower and it’s like nothing exists but the two of them. And he just really wants to keep it that way for a little while longer. If only for a little while longer.

***

They’re lying on a hotel bed that’s so soft it feels like they’re sinking. After another glorious round of sex he found himself tangled in the sheets beside her. Their heads at the foot of the bed because that’s the position where he’d made her cum last, and their feet intertwined at the headboard. She’s not looking at him, but instead up at the ceiling. This doesn’t seem to stop him from peering over at her. She’s kind of too beautiful to not look at.

“Can I ask you something?” He hedged carefully.

She peered over at him, eyes warm and sated.

“Yes.”

“I don’t...I really don’t know how to ask, or what to ask. And maybe--maybe I’m gonna come across like some dick, but I don’t wanna do that with you. I want to learn ya know? I want to understand.”

“Shawn?” She pressed getting his attention. “Calm down. Just ask.”

He nodded softly and took a deep breath. His fingers twitched anxiously against his stomach.

“That stuff you said earlier on the plane...you know about--about the trump supporter, and how that made you feel? And then sometimes...sometimes it sounds like you don’t really like white people, which like makes sense right? We’re the worst. But I just...I wanna understand more about...about what that means for you? Fuck. I’m sorry. That sounded dumb just saying it.”

He closes his eyes ready for her to slap him and take his jet all the way back to New York. He thinks maybe he’d deserve it. It wasn’t even that he’d never been with a Black woman before. Black Women were beautiful and ethereal and wonderful. But, even his tiny white man brain could understand that the state of the world was simply a little different nowadays. His mediocre understanding of racism and privilege simply wasn’t enough. And he knew that if he wanted to be with this woman, if he wanted to feel like he deserved to be near her and absorb her intellect, than he should probably do his absolute best to understand the world in which she walked. Because it certainly looked different from his own.

He feels her hand on his chest and his eyes flutter open. She curled her fingers around his own and sent him another gentle smile that made his toes curl at the other end of the bed.

“It’s not dumb.” She assured him. “You’re asking. You might not have the language, but you’re asking. And that means a lot to me, okay? A lot.”

He nodded his head dumbly, eagerly hanging on every word that she said. She lied back once again, her head nestling a little closer to his. She doesn’t let go of his fingers.

“So, I do hate white people sometimes.” She mumbled. “Sometimes in the discourse Black folks will often try to explain that it’s not all white people, it’s just some. And most days I can get there. I can recognize that. But like… that’s not really how it works you know? Even white people who wouldn’t lynch my black ass grew up in a culture that would. Even white folks who might not feel the need to say the n-word grow up in a culture that situates their body, their worth, their value over mine. And even if that’s not your fault, and I can recognize that it isn’t you know? That’s how privilege works, it’s subliminal. But even if it’s not your fault, it doesn’t mean that you don’t benefit. And it definitely doesn’t mean that you haven’t absorbed messages about my inferiority.”

He watches her face the entire time, more specifically the emotions that seem to rush through every pore and every muscle. There’s a bit of agony on her features. A bit of frustration. But as she warms up there’s a freedom to it too. He knows that she’s not editing her words. She’s not doing anything for his benefit. He asked and so she would tell him, in whatever way was meaningful for her.

“White people just...sometimes it really seems like y’all don’t give a shit. I’ve had the cops called on me at the very building that I work at. On the top floor, with some of the most powerful people in show bizz twenty-seven times since I started. To the point where Mike in security has to keep an updated description of me every time I change my hair just in case. I have walked onto sets to manage my artists and been told that the back up dancers are in the trailer around back. Every step I take, every goddamn day, there is always at least one white person there to tell me that I don’t deserve it. That I don’t belong. And the intersections of my blackness with my womanhood mean that I am consistently and constantly facing an uphill battle of two indentities that the world just doesn’t give a fuck about.”

He couldn’t look away from her. Never had he ever seen her be so vulnerable for him. Y/n was always just an inch or two behind a wall, always peeking out to give him glimpses but never really showing herself in her entirety. He watched the way that her chest rose and fell more rapidly, watched the way her fingers tightened around his own, and her eyebrows wrinkled on her forehead. It was anxiety. She was anxious and angry and sad. The way that her lips pointed down and her eyes blinked faster than normal told him as such. It kind of broke his heart.

And it’s all so new for him that the only thing he can do is follow his instincts and hope that either he doesn’t fuck it up, or that maybe she’ll forgive him if he does. So, he rested his head firmer against her and held her hands just as tight like maybe it might root her a little better in this room with him, like maybe she might feel safe with him.

“And the people...the people that do these things to you. That do these racist acts all the time they--they look like me don’t they?”

Her eyes that were trained on the ceiling fell down to meet his again. They’re still sad, but a little softer now.

She nodded slowly a bit of a grin forming on her lips.

“I’ma be honest ain’t nobody walking around looking quite like you but...yes they--they kind of look like you.”

He nodded slowly and tilted his head back to peer up at the ceiling now. There’s an anxiety to it for him too. In asking the questions that he didn’t have answers to, to be vulnerable enough in his ignorance. There’s a desire to get it right because she’s important to him, and then a dread when he realizes the time it will take to get there, and the pain that might cause her along the way.

“Shit y/n...why the hell would you even wanna go out with me? Even I hate me right now.” He sighed.

“That’s just the white guilt talking baby,” She snorted before sobering up quickly. “Look it’s complicated right? Like given my problems with white people and white men in particular, I’m firm enough in my blackness and my identity to recognize everything that I just explained to you, while also recognizing that things are never black and white. No pun intended. I can still love your humanity and your individuality as long as you’re willing to do the same for me. I can recognize that not all white people are the same, that you all think alike. I just need the space to have conversations like this. I need someone who cares enough to learn. Anything else isn't worthy of my time. Either you’re down with me always, even when it isn’t convenient, or you’re not. So, which is it?”

Her eyes are wide and clear. It’s that firmness in the set of her jaw that gets him. She’s dead serious. Either he buys into her, and all of her, or he doesn’t deserve any of her. He can see that. He can understand it. It’s not that he wants her bad enough to “deal” with the rest of it. It’s that he wants her bad enough to understand all of her. He wants to know. Needs to.

“I’m down.” He assured her reaching for her cheek in his palm. “For all of it.”

“You’re sure?” She mumbled with desperate eyes. “Cause if you’re not we can go back New York and just be fuck buddies again. You can still find you some white girl without hundreds of years of internalized genocide and systemic oppression on her shoulders.”

He shook his head and kissed her until the tension melted from her body. Because he needed it to. He needed her belief in him, her trust.

“I’m so damn sure it’s insane. Just want you.” He whispered.

She reached for his lips pulling him back to kiss her again.

“Promise.” She demanded as if it was even an option.

“I promise.”

***

Permanent taglist

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riot-in-reverie · 4 years

Text

Villainous Neighbors pt 2.

tags: @queen-of-glass @jamesxdaisy @b00kworm @jurdanhell @cardan-greenbriar-tcp

theres a question at the bottom that would really help the fanfic.

tell me if you prefer this POV or the one i did in part one, 1st or 3rd person

i’m sorry if this isn’t that good....

pictures will be posted separately as always.

warnings: threats and subtle signs of abuse

Chapter 2

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz

Jude sleepily opened her eyes not able to ignore the constant buzzing of her phone on the bedside. She blindly threw her hand out searching for the source of the horrid noise. Once her hand closed around her phone she opened it was blinded by the brightness.

Buzz. Buzz.

Blinking quickly she opened text messages and bolted upright in bed. How could she have forgotten. Looking down at her phone was 8 messages from Dain and more coming

Dain: "Hey"

Dain: "Where have you been"

Dain: "Can you call me?"

Dain: "Jude. Call me"

Dain: "Its late are you okay"

Dain: “You better be at home"

Dain: "Good morning"

Dain: "Can you hang out today"

Dain: "Are you up?"

Dain: "Wake up babe"

I frantically typed out a good morning whitch in seconds he replied

Dain: "Good afternoon. It's Noon but that's okay how are you?"

Jude: "I'm good"

Dain: "Where were you last night?"

I couldn't tell him about the fights. He didn't know and wouldn't let me continue if he knew. The problem was I was slowly running out of excuses and they were getting more and more far fetched.

Jude: "I was on a late night walk. Didn't want my phone on me"

Dain: "You should always have your phone on you"

Jude: "I didn't want it to disturb me"

Dain: "What if something happened"

Nothing would have happened but I couldn't tell him that.

Jude: "Oh I should probably get breakfast and stuff. Text you later!"

I threw the blankets to the side and slid off the bed. There was no part of my body that wasn't sore or just plain hurting. As I walked to my closet I noticed a big bruise on my upper thigh that must have manifested overnight. I'd have to find something to cover that up. I found a long dark forest green shirt that I styled with a tie in the front. I honestly thought about just wearing that to be scandalous but I put on some ripped jeans so I wouldn't get arrested. I decided to leave my hair down today. I was downstairs by 12:15

I was in a rush. I had wanted to get to work by 11. I do own my own shop but I want to open at a decent time and I've already slept through my alarm. Now I was very late and was snapping at Taryn to get a move on. Taryn often accompanies me to work just to leave after about 15 minutes.

"Lets fucking go. I have customers"

"Okay okay. Let me get my shoes on!"

I groaned and just went outside, she could catch up. The shop was in town so the walk took a bit but Taryn refused to ride on my motorcycle. Why didn't she wake me up then I wouldn't be so snappy or so rushed.

I heard rapid footsteps behind me and looked back over my shoulder to see Taryn hurrying to catch up. I see her purple, no lavender (as I was corrected earlier) dress waves slightly in the wind. I’ll laugh at her if she gets into a fight. That dress will do absolutely no good in a battle of any sorts. Honestly I don’t know how people get us confused. I know we're twins but honestly I would never wear something like that. She seems to like it though so I don’t mention it.

We chatted idly about things of no importance and eventually we arrived at my shop.

In crude cursive letters above a quaint shop said "Jude's Tattoos" Not the most creative name but Vivi said she thought it had a nice ring to it and no one had complained so far.

Taryn turned to me and said "I'll see you later have fun at work" before walking past the shop. I didn't bother waving. I unlocked the door and went inside the small chimes of the door making me smile. I turned on the lights and the room illuminated in a nice subtle glow. There was the small waiting room in the front with the black fuzzy couch and two neon colored chairs. Some random magazines were laid out on the round wooden table in between them. Behind that was the desk that divided the front from the back workspace. I went to the back where all my supplies were set up. Around the back and on the desk one could find some of my personal stuff. I sometimes kept things here when I forgot to take them home, was too lazy, or maybe I purposely kept them here who knows. I sat down on my swivel desk chair and noticed a lipstick bottle. I popped it open to see if it was what I think it was and sure enough hidden in it was a blade. Perfect for some stealthy stabbing. Maybe I should take that home today? Eh, I could think about it later. I tossed it aside and looked at my customers for today. Only one that was supposed to come at 4.

Cardan Greenbriar who's unsure what he wants as of now.

Well I guess I got some time to kill. I moved over to the couch and pulled out my phone.

Cardan POV

"No threats huh?"

Cardan said to himself as he completed the ransomware program on Mr. Smith's company. He pushed away from his computer smiling brightly. In about an hour he'd call and state his demands. He stood up nearly falling down again after he had been sitting so long. Once he got used to standing again he stretched and looked at the time. It was about 2 that means he'd call at 2:30 or 3. Then he had about 1 hour before he got his tattoo at a new place his friend had recommended. He still had to figure out exactly what he wanted. He had a rough idea but not exactly. He could work on that or maybe he could talk to some more companies.

He walked upstairs still trying to roughly plan his day when he noticed himself in the mirror. Now Cardan took a lot of pride in his appearance and right now he could barely recognize himself. His hair was all over the place, his makeup smeared, bags under his eyes, and his silk pajamas were crinkled. He might have to dedicate an hour to his routine instead of the usual thirty minutes.

He looked in his closet and pulled out a dark blue oxford shirt that he put on and tucked up the sleeves. He put on black pants with a belt that was more meant for style than practical use and started brushing out his hair. He parted it to the left so it covered his left ear leaving his right ear for his beautiful dangling earring. He slid his rings on and added some subtle touches to his makeup. He thought he looked casual yet a bit dramatic and that worked perfectly fine for him.

It was about 2:35 by this time and he decided to call Mr. Smith. He dialed the number on the business card that he had on his desk. After a few rings he answered with an exasperated voice "Hello how may I…"

"Hello Mr. Smith"

"Cardan?" His exasperation turning to surprise

"Mr. Greenbriar if you please. Yes well I was wondering if you had reconsidered what you said yesterday."

"Why would I do that?"

"Just considering your circumstances at the moment"

"And how do you know about that?"

"How do you think?" He said with a mocking tone

"You did it. Why?" Surprise and bewilderment were quite obvious in his voice.

"Because I want to be paid. It's really not that hard to understand. I don't get paid and you get punished."

"We are already working on taking it down" Cardan could tell he tried to say this with confidence but his voice wavered

"You know it will take you too long. You will lose to many customers in that time. Quit fooling around"

There was a long silence and Cardan was starting to think he might have hung up when his voice came through

"Okay. No more than what we were paying you though"

"Now was that so hard? Remember that I am a very valuable asset but I can also make very bad things happen. To you or to others. Alright I hope you have a lovely day"

Cardan hung up and started to disable the program. Soon enough it was gone and Mr. Smith was under Cardan control.

It was about 3 now and Cardan didn't know what to do. He could get Starbucks? He could text Locke? He could just go early? There was a jewelry store near the tattoo shop that his friend worked at. He could go there. He decided that was the best idea and got into the car to drive to "Atlantis Jewelry" but not before getting a coffee for the both of them.

Cardan walked through the store door and among the glass display cases that held jewels and necklaces that glittered when the sun hit them through the perfectly aligned windows. He walked up to the front to the person who was stationed there

"Yeah Hi I'm looking for Narcissa. She works here"

The attendant held up a finger as in to say wait right here than went to the back. Cardan waited there coffees in hand until Narcissa came out and stretched over the counter to give Cardan a kiss on the cheek

"Cardan! How have you been!"

"Hey. I've been good. I brought you a coffee" he handed the coffee that had whipped cream to her

"Thanks so much I definitely needed this."

Cardan just nodded.

"So what have you been up to?" She asked after she had taken a long sip from her drink.

Cardan shrugged "not much is different. My neighbors moved out so now there's just an empty house next to me but other than that everything is the same. What about you?"

"Oh well my mom went on a trip so I'm all alone for awhile which is kinda nice. My boyfriend broke up with me. I got a promotion. That tattoo shop opened across the street. It drives my manager crazy."

She started to go onto the next thing but Cardan stopped her

"What's wrong with the tattoo shop" He didn't want to go to a faulty tattoo shop "who runs it?"

"Just this girl" She said waving her hand dismissively "it's the music that bothers us. It's very loud"

"Oh. That's it?"

Apparently that was the wrong choice of words. She glared at him "No that's not it. It scares our customers away!"

"Oh sorry. Enjoy your coffee. I'll see you later okay?"

"Yeah we should hang out soon”

"Definitely" Cardan said as he stepped out the door.

Cardan wandered a bit before going into the tattoo shop. His first thought was that it was very nice and that he liked it. The second was that he thought it was very unprofessional to be sleeping on the job. This thought came to him as he looked at what he assumed to be the owner laying down fast asleep on the couch in the front area. He wondered if he should leave and come back later but by the looks of it this girl wasn't waking up any time soon so he might as well wake her up. He walked over and tapped on her shoulder

"Darling?"

He shook her a bit and she rolled over looking up at him. He waved slightly

"I hate to bother you but I'm supposed to be getting a tattoo"

The girl's face went from shock, embarrassment, to frustration in the span of 5 seconds.

"Ugh Hello welcome to Judes tattoos I'm Jude"

"I figured"

"And you are?" She said sitting up and flipping her hair back.

"Oh I'm Cardan"

"Yea the boy who doesn't know what he wants"

This girl wasn't very professional at all. He wondered how long this place would stay in business.

"Thats me…"

"Okay. Well come on in to the back and we'll get everything worked out"

She started walking and Cardan followed behind her wondering if this had been a good idea. It had been his friend Locke who had texted and recommended this place so that already made it suspicious and Narcissa wasn’t a big fan of the store… Was it too late to bail? On the other hand this place was somewhat new and as a bonus this girl was stunningly beautiful and he had been interested in a tattoo so why not.

He just had to hope this Jude woman wouldn't ruin his life.

ideas for his tattoo?

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #fanfiction #sorry if this is shit #sorry if this sucks #sorry if you didn't want to be tagged #um yeah #theres that #hope you enjoy #please comment #please answer

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official-michael-afton · 5 years

Photo

Made a tier list of FNaF media!!! Not counting the activity book or the security survival log because those don’t really add anything, they’re just neat activities or summaries of game info

I explained the choices under the cut, equal parts personal bias and objective opinion, so if you think differently then hey, good on ya!

Going down to up XD

The Silver Eyes Graphic Novel: Do I even need to explain this one? Rushed art with countless mistakes, horrid coloring, samey designs, the important scenes come off as bland and even goofy instead of impactful. It’s clear Pinky wasn’t used to drawing humans, the colorist had no idea what they were doing, and no one on the team made a graphic novel before. It’s laughable how bad this was XD

The Fourth Closet: Does anyone really know what happened at the end? I... really don’t like what they did with Charlie in this one. I don’t like how William was able to get out of his Springtrap- it was SUPPOSED to trap him, and yet he just... is out of it... I think the whole thing with Baby being like this hot clown girl instead of what she is in Sister Location is very... ... it exists... Tbh I respect the bold direction it took, but I honestly felt it was too much of a stretch and just didn’t work.

FNaF AR, Special Delivery: Not bad! The character models and voice acting is where the game shines most. Other than that, there isn’t really much substantial to the game other than some lore with Vanny/Ness and Luis. The gameplay can get frustrating sometimes(I cant collect remnant, read my mail, or even work on my own animatronics without DING DONG SOMEONES HERE every 5 seconds), and all you do is spin in a circle until you get glitchy, look away if they get glitchy, or zap them when they run at you. Some people probably love this game and good on them for that, but I find myself not touching it for weeks at a time.

Freddy In Space 2: GREAT game for charity, great art, great music! ... That’s all it has going for it, though. It was clear that this was a quickly made game designed to be beaten in one sitting, and it did exactly what it needed to do! Other than being amazing how it was for charity, the game doesn’t have that much going for it(except introducing Lolzhax aka BEST ROBO), so overall not bad but also did almost nothing outside of being for the Charity Livestream XD

Fazbear Frights, Into The Pit: Again, not bad! A nice collection of short stories, almost like goofy campfire horror you’d tell to kids... like goosebumps! I felt each story was REALLY lacking in some areas, but I liked the general idea they were going for. That being said, they’re moreso neat scary stories with the name FNaF attached than anything else(except maybe the first of the three). It hints that they have an overarching plot that will be covered in future books, but as of right now, I feel no one’s missing out by not reading them.

FNaF 3: A satisfying end to the original trilogy story! Purple Guy gets justice, everything gets tied together with a neat bow, and the first arc in the series comes to an end. Also Springtrap, aka my favorite. This game is riddled with neat 8-bit minigames and bits of lore, but the gameplay itself is where I find it not as good as the S A and B tiers. The new setup with the system reboots are def really interesting, but other than that, each night is just... the same thing but harder. Most other games introduce different characters on different difficulties per night, but since Springtrap is the only deadly one, it’s just... him more aggressive each night and systems failing more often. Makes the gameplay pretty repetitive and frustrating after Night 3 or so.

FNaF 4: The beginning of what I like to call the Afton saga(4, SL, FFPS, UCN)! This is when the lore began to get REALLY good... and also really confusing. Props for it taking such a bold direction by taking place in a child’s bedroom instead of in an office with cameras, its a neat change of pace! That being said, the gameplay can get frustrating and there’s a high learning curve for needing to listen to each sound the anmatronics make. Also lore wise... there really isn’t much! Just mainly focuses on what happened to this poor kid. Also the box still being a loose end... yeah.

The Twisted Ones: I enjoyed this one! It had a very interesting direction that kinda kept me guessing on what was going on, and this is when Scott really started nailing in the foreshadowing for the reveal in TFC. The Twisted animatronics are SO cool, and the introduction of those little alteration chips provided new context to games like 4 and SL! That being said, I don’t remember it being... that memorable? I also didn’t like how Charlie’s and John’s relationship was... so awkward... It was neat, but honestly nothing to really go crazy over, in my opinion.

The Silver Eyes: Honestly, I adored this book when I read it back in 2016, before Sister Location happened. At the time I wasn’t trying to connect it to any lore, so it was really great just to see a sort of retelling of the FNaF story. A lot of people complained about how long it was... I might agree if I reread it but tbh it never bothered me before. It was delightfully creepy, yet had a simple plot and wasn’t NEARLY as out there as TTO and TFC. Especially TFC. I felt this book didnt need 2 sequels and would’ve been just fine on its own, but whatcha gonna do. Carlton is forever my fav, and it’s the first time we really learn about Henry AND it was the first time we got a name for our Purple Guy: William Afton!

Sister Location: I like this one for just how bold of a game it was. I’m also including SL’s Custom Night wrapped into this package. Jam packed with lore, our first (main) game with VOICE ACTING, and honestly the humor has no right being as good as it is. I love how this not only expanded on the crying child from 4′s story, but also gives us so much Elizabeth and Michael content. The gameplay has a lot of unbalanced features and feels a little too over the place at times, but I appreciate where it was going with it!

FNaF World: ... This one is pure personal bias. A lot of people don’t like it. I adore it. Honestly I love the cute overworld, I love beating up enemies as my favorite animatronics, I love the horror, nihilism, and lore shoved into this game alongside SO MUCH humor. Update 2 was nothing short of an absolute delight and... wait, no!!! FNaF World had our first voice acting!!! So many endings and nods to other games Scott’s made, a cool scene with Desk Man/Henry and Baby, just... muah. Good content. Also Scott 57 <3

Ultimate Custom Night: Name a better way to end the Afton Saga, I’ll wait. It’s so obvious how much time, thought, and care went into this one. I love how the game rewards you with funny cutscenes the higher scores you get, and I just! So much voice acting! I love how each preset- no, each character has their own moves so every time you do a certain mode, you need to learn to manage them all and get a good strategy. I like how it’s way more strategy and skill than the RNG that many previous games had. Also, Scott!!! You managed to put this into the LORE by making it William’s hell, MUAH, couldnt have done it better!!!

FNaF 2: This one might have bias for being the peak of the fandom, but it was one of the greatest times to be in that fandom. Freaking out over the trailers, theories galore, prequel vs sequel, and just... so good. 1 didn’t have much plot, 2 DID. 2 had more mechanics and strategy to it than 1, and gave us over twice as many characters! We finally got a “face” to our killer, Mr. Purple Man, and how could I ever complain about more Phone Guy~? This one also introduced the 8-bit minigames, which became a HUGE staple for the series! Perfect expansion of the first!

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria Simulator: The PERFECT blend of old and new gameplay. The salvage scenes are intense, the nights had a great balancing mechanic of juggling doing tasks while also avoiding animatronics, multiple endings, and a neat tycoon segment to give the player a breather... but with LORE!!! Midnight Motorist is easily one of the best tracks in the series. Also has a GREAT canonical ending, when(with paired with UCN), ties the plots of 1-6 SO nicely with a neat bow.

FNaF 1: Okay. From a personal and gameplay standpoint, I was going to put this much lower. Like B or C. That being said... this has to go in S. Yes, it has the least lore and arguably the worst gameplay(too much RNG for 4/20 mode), but this was the game. I can’t even exaggerate when I say just how much FNaF changed not only the gaming community, but especially the horror and indie communities. So many names got big from this: Markiplier, Dawko, Game Theory, The Living Tombstone, DA Games, SCOTT HIMSELF, just to name a few!!! And to think, this was originally going to be Scott’s last game! FNaF changed gaming HISTORY, and I think that alone makes this title deserving of S.

FNaF VR, Help Wanted: Okay, personal bias time, but I truly think VR deserves this S. Seeing Glitchtrap for the first time incited a panic in me that I hadn’t felt since FNaF 1 and 2. You get FNaF 1-4 in one, all in VR, WONDERFUL character models that you can WATCH MOVE!!! SO many minigames and fun challenges to play, so many neat knickknacks to collect, the Halloween update is FANTASTIC. The introduction of some great characters, such as: Glitchtrap, Vanny, Tape Girl, Dreadbear, Grim Foxy, etc!!! There’s also just- something so nice about being able to see every office and the pizzeria in 3D spaces where you can look around! Just from a gameplay and environment standpoint, this was an AMAZING addition and deserves the S.

... Thanks for listening to me ramble XD If you disagree... then good for you! I won’t fight anyone on this, I’m aware that this is a lot of personal bias. But if you made it this far... thanks for hearing me ramble!!!!

#fnaf #infodump #fnaf tier list #five nights at freddy's

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farahblack · 5 years

Text

pies

i have opinions on things there probably shouldn’t be opinions about. here are my opinions on the squad’s favorite kinds of pie. bon appetit.

disclaimer: not all of these reflect my personal views on pies; all pies are valid.

dirk:

dirk’s favorite pie is cherry

he likes the kind with full berries in it

if the crust isn’t plaid, what’s the point? people who cover the full glory of the pie and don’t leave it air holes are weak and cowards. they’re weak cowards.

people who don’t butter the crust and top before they bake are vile

it has to have a little bit of crunch in the crust, but not burnt! if it’s burnt, you’ve failed your pie

bonus points if your pie is all nice and neat together

pies that squash all over the place when you cut in? terrible

the ideal pie should be this nice dark red color in the filling—the cherries should not be firm, but they shouldn’t be falling all over the place either

a good cherry pie must be served on a small plate. it cannot be on a full sized kitchen plate. if you present your pie on a plate meant for a full meal, you’re a coward, and you’ve failed. use a smaller plate. but not a saucer. if you serve your pie on a saucer, that’s disgraceful

dirk absolutely despises pumpkin pie

pumpkins should not be in pies, he says, standing in the middle of the kitchen and waving around a spatula. pumpkins belong in bread, as pumpkins do! everybody knows this!

he doesn’t like whipped cream on pies

ice cream on hot pie can be okay, but it all depends on the type of ice cream, and the type of pie

hot apple pie with vanilla ice cream is passable. anything else is horrid

todd:

todd’s favorite pie is apple

it’s the most basic kind of pie, and he likes it

he doesn’t mind closed crusts, but the ones where little slits are cut into the center for ventilation? superior

also when there’s cinnamon in the pie filling... good. that’s how it’s meant to be. five stars.

todd will eat most pies

but he hates rhubarb pie. there’s no reason. he just can’t stand it

it’s pink. why is it pink? pies should be red, or, or blue, or maybe even orange! not pink! why is it pink? he’s not eating that

and sweet potato pie. that’s just... why would you do that?

he has firm opinions on what qualifies as pie. shepard’s pie? that’s not pie. it’s an impostor. a fake. it’s just meat and potatos with pie in the name. not actually pie at all. he’s probably fought people over this

todd likes when the crusts are a little burnt. not too burnt, but just enough that the edges go all black and crispy

what can he say? he loves the crunch

if you don’t eat pumpkin pie with whipped cream, who even are you?

he doesn’t actually like pumpkin pie that much. but he likes whipped cream, so it evens out.

ice cream on pie is... pointless. there’s already a lot of sugar, why add more? he’s content with his ice-cream-less pie

farah:

farah’s all time favorite pie is key lime, but she’s also fond of lemon meringue and cream pie.

she likes custards

the texture is nice, how it’s soft but sometimes firm if you cut into it right, and how it’s all smooth and moist? she likes it

farah does not condone blueberry pie. mainly because she hates blueberries. i am not projecting.

her favorite pies don’t exactly have top crusts, but the bottom and sides have to be at a certain degree of crumble

they can’t be too dry, but too much butter in crusts is a sin

it has to be just right, with the crust packed tightly but not tightly enough it’s impossible to slice through

farah doesn’t even eat pie that much

but when she does, she’s not picky

not as picky as dirk, anyhow

ice cream on pie is good and all, but for some reason, farah is one of those people who just never has ice cream in her fridge

amanda:

amanda’s a pecan pie lover through and through

if you do not like pecan, she can and will fight you

she has no crust preference, no filling preference, nothing

just pecan pie

it’s literally the only kind of pie she eats

obviously when she’s offered other kinds, she doesn’t decline (who would), but when she’s got a choice? pecans

whipped cream on pecan pie, is amazing. she has stolen so many whipped cream cans in her life

when it does the swirly thing? with like, the little fluffier bits of the cream? yes

honestly amanda only hates apple pie because todd likes it, and if you’ve ever had a sibling you know that’s how it is

actually on second thought apple might be her second favorite just because she eats it all so todd doesn’t get any. people with siblings you know this is factually correct

the way amanda eats her pecan pie is... questionable

she picks off all the pecans on top, then eats the back crust, and only then does she eat the... actual pie. everybody who knows her shakes in fear

tina:

tina’s more of a cake person, actually

there’s a fine line between cake and pie, and tina treads it expertly

mud pies are good! not as good as cake though

sometimes tina takes cake icing and puts it on pies. she’s unstoppable

it’s pretty good actually, amanda confirms. she’s not reliable

tina commits pie crimes regularly, such as:

maple syrup

melting mashmallows into her pie

straight up dumping powdered sugar on her slice(s)

cutting pie with scissors

kitchen scissors, she’s not a barbarian

sprinkles

candles? birthday candles? she made a pie for somebody’s birthday once and then she just... didn’t stop

cupcake sized pies

lobbing pies at people and then running. it’s not a crime if she’s an officer, right? right

in short: fear tina

#those are all im doing bc im tired aksjfh #dghda #dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #todd brotzman #farah black #amanda brotzman #tina tevetino #misc #headcanons #ask me about their favorite pies #because i have pie hcs for other characters too i just didnt write them down asjdfskd

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writingismyhappytime · 5 years

Note

I'm thankful for friends, making new friends, meeting the band in two weeks, and road trips ❤️ hope this works in a magical way as a fic

You squeeze your arms around Chris, a warm, fuzzy feeling settling over your shoulders as you look around the home you’ve made together. It’s perfectly decorated for the holidays, much to his dismay, but it’s important to you to get into the spirit. You want to wake up every day to the smell of gingerbread candles or pumpkin spice, shove your feet into warm slippers and walk into a livingroom prepared for Christmas despite Halloween was two days ago.

“This is going to be such a good year,” you say excitedly, pleased at the Christmas tree looming in the corner of the room, decorated in reds and golds on one side, blacks and silvers on the other --- neither of you could agree on the colors, so you compromised.

Honestly? You kind of like it, it shows both of your personalities, both of your tastes.

“You’re not going to try to get out of meeting my parents this time, right?” You ask after a moment, twitching your eyes up at the tall black-haired man beside you who was looking at his phone rather than at the decorations you’ve been laboring over for days.

“Last time was an accident,” he mumbles defensively; it’s not his fault that there was an emergency band meeting about the album that he sort of planned as a way to get out of meeting your very country-bumpkin parents for the first time. He just knows they’re not going to like him, and you’ve only been dating a year! Isn’t it a little fast to meet the family just yet?

Sure, you might be living together, you have for the last six months, but that’s different! Sure, you might also be in one of his music videos, and on one of his bank accounts just in case there’s an emergency, but --- well, those things had all seemed natural to happen at the time! No rush, no force, not like this whole parents thing.

It makes him uncomfortable.

He’s an adult, technically old enough to be a parent himself now, but that doesn’t make the impending situation any less doom-filled. Maybe he can say one of the band broke their leg and he has to go to the hospital, and make one of them limp around for six months in a cast when you’re around. That seems like a more logical thing to do, actually, maybe Ricky would ---.

“Chris.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop plotting for a way out of this,” you wag your finger firmly at him as you step away, gathering errant tinsel decorating his black livingroom suite. “You can’t bail on me this time, I won’t allow it. I don’t care if someone is dying, you’re meeting my folks.”

Folks.

“Ugh.”

“Do I have too?” He grumbles unhappily, sitting down heavily in the armchair, grimacing as he realizes he’s squishing Rudolph. He’s not near as into the holiday spirit as you are, and it sort of irks him to come home and see all this nonsense hanging around, but you were just so excited to decorate he couldn’t exactly tell you no. He frowns down at the reindeer he holds in his tattooed hands, the bright red nose he has the sudden urge to rip off.

“They’ve been wanting to meet you for a long time, Chris, so yes! We’ve been together over a year now!’

Not quite a year, Chris thinks. He tosses Rudolph away from him, not caring where he lands as he looks at you. “Yes, but we don’t want to rush anything. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind giving us more time before they meet me.”

“Are you afraid of my parents?” You frown at him, garland hanging from your neck as you try to gather your holiday supplies. You have some glitter on you from who knows what, some ornaments are hanging off your fingers by their delicate strings, and under one arm is apparently sticks you can buy to apparently stuff the tree and make it look fuller? He’d never heard of such a thing before. “Is big bad frontman of a metal band afraid of meeting two old people? My mom crochets and my dad runs the local bingo, they’re not exactly feral.”

You look... amused.

Chris face sours. “I am not afraid of meeting them! I just --- well, I don’t know. It just seems soon. Why don’t we wait another year?”

“Why? Do you plan on breaking up with me sometime next year?” You quirk a brow at him curiously, slowly putting your ornaments away. “Is that why you don’t want to meet them?”

“No.” Chris squirms.

“They’re just people, Chris, you meet new ones every day! There’s nothing different and nothing to be worried about,” you sound exasperated, struggling too get the tinsel off of you and into the designated box.

“But it’s different,” he replies, getting to his feet to help you. He lifts the tinsel off of you, tossing it into the box already overflowing with decor. "It's your people."

"They're going to like you," you say, brushing at your ugly, obnoxious cat sweater. He swears you've pulled out a box that has a sweater for every single day until the holiday, and now you're talking about making him wear some! He does have a reputation to uphold! Although, it would be a funny card to send out, both of you wearing horrid looking sweaters.

Actually, that would be cute, he's not quite so opposed now.

"Are you sure they're not going to think I'm the devil luring their little girl to the dark side?"

You roll your eyes. "No. If anything, I think I'm more devious than you are, you just look the part. Don't let my cat sweater fool you, Mr. Cerulli, I'm quite the devil myself."

"Oh really? Chris chuckles, feeling your arms curling tightly around his waist again as you snuggle into him. He holds you, giving you a light squeeze as he presses his lips into your hair.

Yeah, still doesn't want to meet your parents.

Still will try to find a way out of it.

Just won't mention that detail to you.

"Oh, and when we sit down at Thanksgiving, we have this tradition of going around the table saying what we're thankful for because we really are that basic, but you're going to have to play long. Say something cheesy, my mom will love that," you say, your voice muffled by his shirt. "It doesn't matter if you really mean it or not, but that'll make them like you more. Which I also don't think you have anything to worry about. My mom keeps telling everyone she slept with a member of Motley Crue back in the day, so I don't know how true that is or not, but be prepared for that story since she knows you're in a band."

Chris chuckles, his lips curving. "Sleeping with the band runs in the family, huh?"

"You could say that." You reply, shrugging your shoulders. You nudge him until he's taking a few steps back, falling back into the armchair still warm from his occupation earlier. You sit down in his lap, curling your cold toes against his leg as you snuggle into him, his warm arms keeping you against him. "Do you want to practice what you're thankful for?"

"Not really."

"Oh, come on," you shuffle a little, letting your head rest against his black-clad shoulder. "Humor me."

Hmph.

"I'm thankful for --- you being my girlfriend. Baking lots of cookies, making it smell girly as fuck in here at all times." Chris glances dubiously at all the lit candles.

"Well, there's a start," you bite your lower lip, cheeks pinkening. He started off so well.

"I'm thankful for --- all that we have together," you say after a moment. "Our apartment, the things we do together."

Oh, are you going back and forth now? Crap, what else can he be thankful for?

"Uhh --- I'm thankful for... um... I don't know." he grimaces. This is a lot harder than expected. What is he thankful for? He tries to think, but his mind is just completely blank.

"Well, I'll go again. I'm thankful for friends, making new friends," you chew your lip thoughtfully. "Meeting the band in two weeks." You haven't met any of them, not because you don't want too, your life is just busy and they're his work buddies, you don't think it's important to meet them until he wants you too --- turns out now he does, which made you so happy to know he wants you more involved in his life! "And road trips."

"Road trips?"

"Yep. We're taking one next year, remember? You might have got to see all fifty states, but I'm still lacking seven of them! I need to finish my tshirt collection."

Oh god.

Chris forgot about that.

"I can always buy you one when I go through the state."

"It's not the same! I want to see it for myself. You did promise me, remember?" You boop his nose lightly with your finger, amused when his pale cheeks turn bright pink. "I want us to go together for the experience. It'll be fun. You can take a week off work, and we can just spend it together."

Ahuh.

"Like... are we driving or flying?"

"Well, we can rent an RV, really spend some close time together," you say, pretending to be thoughtful and not ignore his horrified look. "You remember that movie with Robin Williams? It'll kind of be an adventure like that! It'll be fun!"

Absolutely not.

Chris has not sunk that low!

"Doesn't he get run over by the RV?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine, honey." you pat his shoulder reassuringly.

Chris sighs.

Sure he will.

"You know what else I'm thankful for?" You say after a moment, snuggled in his lap in your warm sweater, his arms keeping away the chill of the room. You love little, simple moments like this when it's just the two of you, when it's quiet and peaceful, all you're missing is the crackling of an open fire.

"What's that?"

"You." You press a soft kiss against his chin, smiling. "Putting up with me and my holiday obsession, letting me decorate this space and tease you about RV's but going along with it anyway. I love you, and you're important to me, I'm so thankful that I met you and that we've been able to spend all this time together."

Chris blinks, his cheeks a nice rosy hue as he absorbs your words.

"How am I supposed to top that?" He mumbles, and you smile warmly at him, snuggling close again.

"You're not supposed too, so long as you feel the same."

His arms around you tighten. "I definitely feel the same."

He gives it a moment, then, "But were you serious about the RV thing? Because we can seriously just fly to whatever state you want to start in and rent a car or something."

"Well, I'll guess we'll find out next year when we start planning for our trip, won't we?" You say lightly, drawing circles with your fingertips along the lines of his dark shirt. "After you meet my parents."

He frowns.

Why do you have to keep reminding him about that?

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years

Text

uroboros, the eternal return (part two)

foster AU.

TW: Mentioned/implied child abuse, violence

——————

-Freezing the Viper’s Venom-

Joan used to draw a lot. She was good at drawing, she liked to think, as it was sometimes the only thing she was allowed to do when locked in her rooms.

But now her sketchbook was filled with drawings of Them. The family that almost gave her everything.

Even after she fucked it all up, the Greene’s, the seventh family, still remained her favorite fosters. Her time with them and the end she met taught her something very valuable:

Don’t get comfortable.

Joan brushes her fingertips over Mrs. Greene’s pencil-shaded face and thought back to how she actually looked in person. Chocolate brown hair with natural curls at the tips, warm honey eyes, pearly white teeth, broad shoulders. She kinda looked like a porcupine that worked in criminal justice.

Joan found herself giggling a little. She didn’t know why, but she had a habit of comparing others to animals. Not even her newest family could escape it- Jane looked like a white tiger and Katherine kinda looked like an otter.

But Mrs. Greene! She was so kind and so sweet. She treated Joan as if she were her biological daughter and not just a foster. Joan thought they were gonna adopt her.

In the end, though, she ruined it all.

But it wasn’t her fault! Not really, anyway... The baby was just crying so loud and Joan couldn’t handle the wailing anymore because the party had already been noisy enough. She hadn’t meant to lash out like she did, really!

Most of what happened was a blur, but she remembered all the screaming, the horrid, annoying shrieks of the baby, someone shoving her, the blood underneath her fingernails.

“Mum should lock you up for what you did,” One of her brothers at the time had told her, staring at her as if she were a demon loosed from hell, “She is a lawyer. She can probably do that. You should be in an asylum.”

Those words never left Joan. They taunted her constantly.

Ever since then, she’s tried harder to reign things in. She stamps down her emotions, bottling them up and not worrying about a possible breaking point.

If she snapped again, it would be disastrous.

Joan blinked away the remnants of the past and shook her head. She tucked away the sketchbook and walked downstairs to get ready to leave for school. Jane smiled warmly from the kitchen when she saw her.

“Good morning, love,” The woman chirped, “Breakfast’s almost ready. Oh, also, there’s a baby shower happening at my parent’s house this evening. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Joan tensed for a moment, but she relaxed a little when she got an option. However, the thought of being alone in such an unfamiliar place (it’s only been seven days, she’s still getting used to the house) scared her and she felt like she would disappoint Jane even more if she didn’t go, so she nodded.

“No, it’s okay,” She said quickly, “I-I can go.”

Jane looked a little surprised, but smiled nonetheless.

“Wonderful!”

Joan was slightly startled when one of Jane’s hands rubbed against the top of head. She flinched, recoiling backwards a little.

“Oh, I apologize!” Jane drew her hand back, “I should have known you wouldn’t like being touched.”

Joan blinked multiple times. It didn’t hurt. She didn’t get hurt when she was touched. Why? What made it not hurt? Usually adults only wanted to harm her. And why wasn’t she that scared? She’s always frightened when touched without warning, but...

She reached up to her head, tentatively touching the area of contact and expecting a welt, a bruise, a gash, at least blood but...nothing. She looked up at Jane, and tapped lightly, unable to get words out (which is honestly humiliating but nothing she can do about it). Jane furrowed her eyebrows.

“But I thought-”

Joan tapped more, so Jane put her hand back on her head, rubbing gently, so gently.

Joan held perfectly still, pressing into the touch. She was trying to understand the sensation rolling over her. Happiness? Love? Comfort? Those were not things she was very familiar with.

Wasn’t touch bad? Touch usually left her hurt, bleeding, in pain. But Jane’s touch...Jane’s touch didn’t cause any of that at all. In fact, it made her feel less hurt.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Jane looked down at the girl, worry shining in her eyes. “You look a little out of it. Do you need to sit down?”

She was concerned, too. Like, actually concerned about her.

Joan shook her head and finally pulled back. The feeling whisked away like that and she couldn’t help but feel cold (not the usual cold she always felt because she’s always cold). This was a sense of longing.

“Sorry,” She whispered, the embarrassment of the situation finally filtering in.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Jane assured her, “Now, how about breakfast?”

—————

“You’re really good at piano, kiddo,” The student teacher in Joan’s piano class said after the bell rang, “Much better than most people here.” She titters lightly and it makes her pale green shimmer.

“Thanks,” Joan said shyly, battling her useless gay feelings.

“You know, you should sign up for Fall Fest coming up,” The student teacher suddenly suggested and her eyes glimmer again, “To, like, play! Wouldn’t that be fun? Playing creepy music and scaring the uptight rich little kids who come to get free candy from the school?”

It honestly really did sound fun. Joan never liked kids.

“Yeah,” Joan nodded. “It does.”

“I’ll give you a flyer!”

She padded over to a cabinet and pulled out a paper. That’s when Joan noticed a container filled with beautiful quills that she couldn’t take her eyes off of for some reason. The student teacher noticed Joan eyeing them and grinned at her.

“Would you like one, kiddo?”

Joan nodded shyly without even thinking about saying now.

“Here, let me get my-”

“No no, put that away,” The student teacher said when she went to grab her wallet.

Joan stopped, tilting her head. She didn’t want payment?

“Think of it as a gift! Trust me, kid, you don’t need to pay me back for a pen.”

Joan gave a little nod.

“Alright, give me a second,” The student teacher pokes through the container before holding a few pens out.

A brilliant, fuzzy emerald feather with swirls and sparks of aquamarine and sapphire, an iridescent thin wing, a large leaf-shade design with silvery indents, a fire-gradient quill, and one with an intricate interlacing metal design.

“The art class made these and had a lot of spares. At first I thought they went a little overboard, but they’re actually really nice. You can pick the one that catches your fancy.” The student teacher said.

Joan stared down at the various options, glancing back up at the older girl a few times. Which one did she want her to take? What if it was a test? Would something happen to her if she chose the wrong one?”

“You don’t like any of them?”

No, she liked the one with the greens and blues. It reminded her of dragon scales.

“Choose whatever you like!”

She really got to choose?

“Go ahead, don’t be shy!” The student teacher encouraged patiently. “Pick any one that you want.”

What she wants? She really gets to choose?

Joan tentatively reached out and took the green-blue pen, glancing up at the student teacher to make sure it was absolutely okay.

“Good choice!” The older girl beamed, “I hope the pen works to your liking. Tell me if it doesn’t work.”

Joan stared at the item, slowly taking out her wallet back out. Surely, she wanted some kind of payment. She couldn’t give out something this beautiful for free.

“No no, I said put that away!” The student teacher huffed, “This is a gift. You don’t have to give me anything, I promise.”

Oh.

Joan nodded and the student teacher was grinning again.

“Maybe you can use it to write your own sheet music.”

“Maybe,” Joan hummed, “Thank you so much.”

“No problem!”

—

At lunch Joan actually finds herself beaming as she presents the quill to Maria. They take turns poking each other and brushing over each other’s skin with the soft feather. Joan feels happy.

—————

On the ride to Jane’s parent’s house Joan plays with the quill to distract herself and calm her nerves. She ruffled and glided her fingers through the colorful fringes, watching them bend into new positions at her touch. It was pleasing.

However, she wasn’t quite sure if a feather would be enough to stabilize her once they got to the house.

Upon entering, Joan was instantly spoken to by an older woman with greying blonde hair. She hugs her, which Joan dislikes a lot, but Jane separates them quickly.

“Be gentle, mum,” Jane said, “She’s shy.”

“Right, of course!” The older woman nodded, “Hello, love. I’m Margery, your new grandma.”

Joan wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like when people gave themselves those titles- not this soon, at least.

“Hi,” She said softly. “I’m Joan.”

“Jane’s told me a lot about you,” Margery continued, “Everyone’s been dying to meet you! I’ll introduce you to them!”

Joan wanted to resist so badly, but she really didn’t have a choice, so she let the old woman drag her all around the house.

During dinner, the conversations pressed onto Joan became more abundant, as people wanted to talk to her right as she put something in her mouth. She looked up at the relatives sitting at her table with a confused expression, swallowing quickly so she could answer whatever they asked.

She was being smothered and she hated it. She kept glancing around for Jane or Katherine, but there were a lot of people at this stupid baby shower, and it seemed like everyone was paying more attention to her than the expecting mother.

The moment Joan thought she got a second to breathe, someone approached her. It was a boy, slightly younger but had a bad aura around him. He looked like a mangy coyote.

“Oh, so you’re Jane’s new plus one.” He said, eyeing Joan up and down.

“I guess,” Joan said, “Who are you?”

“Francis,” Francis told her as if she should have known that, “Don’t bother telling me your name. You won’t be staying long anyway.”

Joan furrowed her eyebrows and snapped to full attention.

“What?”

“Hm? You actually think Jane wants to keep you?” Francis laughed loudly, “Have you seen yourself? I’ve just met you and I already hate being around you.”

His words are venom in Joan’s ears. Her already impossibly low self-esteem is getting drilled further into the ground the longer he speaks.

“Besides, fosters usually aren’t kept around. Katherine just got lucky. That only happens sometimes.”

Joan’s breathing started to quicken. If Francis noticed, he didn’t seem to care.

“I’m just stating what we’re all thinking. You don’t belong here. This is not your home.”

Joan shoves him. The anxiety and fear has turned to anger. It burns and bubbles in her veins and she needed to release it.

“You stupid fuck.” Francis hissed, only to have his threat be hollow when Joan punches him square in the nose. The sickening crunch and cracking sounds are almost as loud as his howls of pain.

“You bitch! You little bitch!” He shrieked.

Joan felt like she could finally ease up, as that made her feel way better, but Francis didn’t seem to be ready to drop this all. Apparently a broken nose only fuels his unknown hatred towards her.

His bloodied hands go for her throat and she panics, slashing her nails across his face. His grip hooks in her hair and her forehead smashes with his knee. Stars burst around Joan and she topples backwards as people in the house start to yell. In front of her, Francis is pawing at his eyes and cheeks, yowling like a dying animal, and Joan takes this as a chance to practically leap onto him like an angry leopard.

After around three hits, someone grabs Joan and yanks her off of Francis. She tensed up at the sudden touch and then jerked away, bolting out the door.

Tears blurred Joan’s already hazy vision as she ran out the backyard and into the woods behind the property. Her breath comes out in heavy gasps and her lungs start to burn, but she pushes on, wanting nothing more than to get away from the humiliation she just put herself in.

She should have known. Francis was right- Jane’s sweet demeanor and kind words were nothing but lies. She was just like the rest of them.

Joan didn’t know where she was going, she just wanted to get away. She stumbled blindly through a stew of mud and slush beneath her feet, her vision so hazy that she didn’t even notice the hillside she was hobbling towards until she stepped off the edge.

Joan violently tumbled down the slippery slope, feeling like every bone in her body was breaking upon impact with the ground. She landed roughly in a heap, twitching and groaning. She’s covered in mud and her clothing has ripped, freeing any bare skin to the elements. Her knees are skinned raw, practically glowing neon pink and bright red.

She staggers up, wincing as sharp pains crawl up her right leg. She lifts her foot off the ground like a dog with a thorn in its paw as it feels like every tendon in her ankle has just been slashed. She had to hobble and limp forward, nearly crying out in pain every time her toes merely brush something.

She only gets a few steps forward before she falls again.

This time, she does not get up.

Shivering quickly consumed Joan from head to toe, setting her teeth clattering so hard she was sure her brain would rattle out of her ears. She drew heavy breaths in through her nose, every intake of air feeling like daggers carving out her lungs.

She’s sobbing, but the tears don’t feel like acid like they usually do. They run scalding hot for only a few seconds before the unforgiving cold chills them on her cheeks.

She smothered her face against the dirt and mud and scrunched her eyes shut tight, focusing on her breathing. If she could steady her shuddering breaths, maybe she could get her extremities to follow… In through the nose, because if she opened her mouth again she worried her tongue might freeze (probably not but the fear still nags her brain). She just had to block out everything else– the wind, the cold, the unrelenting voices in her head. She tucked her chin further down, burying her exposed face in her skinned knees. Just breathe. Focus…and breathe…

The shock of cold snow fluttering down onto the left side of her face had her gasping for breath, the pain of it leaving every exposed inch of skin in agony of a thousand pins and needles. The ache in her ankle and knees and palms and head made it all worse and she moaned weakly into the mud.

Is this how she died? Alone, freezing cold, and in the dark? Well, it was probably better than being surrounded by people who only acted like they wanted her around...

Joan’s sobbing is reduced to feeble whimpers and hiccups. Her breathing shallows out and she closed her heavy eyelids.

The world cracked. Cold clenched her lungs so tightly that each breath was a silver razor in her chest. Her mind tripped in sluggish circles, white-blind and hum-deaf, until color and sound turn into overlapping floods as her body bursts into fiery pins.

Finally, nothing.

For some reason, the last image her muddled mind created was Jane holding her...

————

Jane never liked the woods behind her parent’s house, but she hated them even more when the beam of her flashlight landed on a clothed heap just barely in view at the bottom of a hill. Jane’s heart leapt into her throat and cried out the girl’s name, hurrying down the slope without care for her own safety. She fell to her knees beside her foster daughter.

“Joan?”

Joan’s skin is icy to the touch and her eyes, just barely opened, are rolled to the back of her head. The unnatural blue that tinted her lips sent spikes of fear jamming into Jane’s gut.

Jane wraps her jacket around Joan’s shoulders and then holds her close to her chest. She squeezes her tightly, keeping her cold face pressed to the warmer flesh on Jane’s neck, hoping the slight skin-to-skin contact would generate some warmth in the girl.

“Joan? Joan, honey, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Joan’s breath is faint against Jane’s collarbone.

“Come on, Joan. Please.”

Nothing.

But only for a moment.

Jane feels Joan’s chest contract a little and then sees her eyelids flutter open slightly. Her mouth was opening and shutting, but there was no sound at first. Then, a tiny, squeaking noise. Her eyes were wide open, now, and it took a moment for Jane to understand that she was trying to scream.

“It’s okay, my love, I’m not going to hurt you.” Jane tried to assure her.

Joan’s expression did not change. The squeaking sound gradually made a crescendo into a full shriek, and she started moving her head from side to side wildly. She blows her voice out within seconds and can only pant and breathe heavily.

“Breathe, Joan,” Jane encouraged, “That’s it. Good girl.”

“W-who are y-you?” Joan whispered with great effort. Jane actually found herself gasping upon hearing this. She hadn’t realized how bad her foster daughter’s condition was.

“It’s Jane, love. Your foster mother.” Jane told her.

“M-mother?”

No. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t have a mother, she only had-

“No,” Joan shook her head sluggishly again, “No. Let me go- let me go!!”

Jane winced at the pitches and cracks in Joan’s voice, but she doesn’t listen. Usually, she would always respect the girl not wanting to be touched, but she knew Joan would hightail it the moment she let go.

“Joan, I’m not going to let you run away again. It’s too cold for you to be out here. We need to go back. We can go home.”

Joan didn’t have a home. Nowhere was home.

“No, no,” Joan whimpered, “Don’t wanna go back. Please don’t make me. Please. I wanna stay out here. Please just leave me out here...”

“No.” Jane said firmly and just held Joan even closer. Cold, scraped hands slam against her shoulders.

“You’re just going to give me away, so why are you trying so hard?! I’m doing you a favor!”

“...What?”

Jane’s grip slackens and Joan almost gets away.

“Why would I do that?”

“B-because of what I did,” Joan stuttered.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jane muttered in realization, “No, no, I’m not going to give you away. You dealt with Francis until you couldn’t anymore. I understand that, but we can discuss this later once you’re safe and warm.”

God, the amount of understanding in this woman was incredible. Her words really did sound genuine, but...

“I don’t believe you.”

“I-...”

Jane opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Of course Joan didn’t believe her- why would she? She’s been betrayed by too many people who were meant to be her parental figures, who were supposed to protect and love her.

“Please, please let me go,” Joan begged weakly and Jane’s heart breaks when she sees the tears running down her cheeks. “I just- I want- I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Did she mean...?

Anger simmered in Jane’s veins and she wished she knew all the families Joan had before coming into her care so she could beat them into a bloody pulp. They all broke this poor girl, this child, into shards so badly that she couldn’t trust anyone anymore and didn’t think she was even worth living.

Whatever Joan was feeling right now was far beyond pain.

“I know you’re scared,” Jane spoke carefully, “And I know you’ve been hurt several times, but it’s going to be okay. Darkness has chosen to find you, but there will be light again. I can help you. I can protect you, I just need you to trust me. I need you to try.”

Joan says nothing, just cries softly.

“I’m going to protect you.”

“That’s what they all said.” Joan finally said and her voice is so low it sends chills down Jane’s spine, “They all said that and they lied. They always lie!”

“Joan-”

“No! You’re just like them! You’re a liar!”

Joan is struggling again, punching and kicking and scratching and using up every bit of energy she had left, but Jane does not let go. No matter how loud she shouts, no matter how hard she hits, she is not released.

“Let go! Let go, you’re hurting me! Let go!!”

Joan digs her fingernails into Jane’s forearms and tears down, hoping that’ll be enough, but Jane just closes her eyes and endures the pain. This frustrates Joan even more.

Then, an idea came to her.

With her numb fingers and whatever is left of her dwindling strength, she fumbles in her pocket and pulls out the quill the student teacher in her piano class had given her. She raised it and-

For a long moment Jane wondered who she was even cradling anymore. Was that her Joan? Or was it some other person, some other thing that slipped into her foster daughter’s skin? Had she lost herself to the trauma within? It seemed that way, as she looked about ready to gouge her eyes out with a pen.

And yet? Jane held tight. She held back a flinch as blood from one of Joan’s cuts dripped onto her skin, held to the cloth of the girl’s shirt. She held her close, held her own breath, and held tight to all the courage she could muster.

The quill drops to the dirt.

Joan, and Jane is now sure it’s Joan, hunches down so she can press her face into her chest.

“Why do you care so much?”

Jane doesn’t know how to answer, because she genuinely doesn’t know. She’s only known Joan for seven days, and yet she loves the girl to death. It was the same with Katherine. She didn’t want to let her go, just like how she didn’t want to let Joan go, too.

“You deserve better than me.”

Jane is shocked into silence.

“You shouldn’t be out here. You shouldn’t be holding me or loving me. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you. And you’d deserve better.”

Words of Jane’s own bubble forth.

“No. No. You listen to me,” Jane whispered, practically hissed as she leaned forward and she couldn’t even realize she was crying as well but that was the least of her concerns right now. “I. Don’t. Care. Being out here, holding you- I don’t care. I’m here for a reason. I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you, because I’ll calm you down a hundred times if it meant-”

“Ja-”

“No,” Jane shook her head and she dared to continue, “No, just listen for another moment first, please, because I need to say that I don’t care about any of it, because I love you.”

Joan’s shoulders shook and she failed to bite back a hiccup and sob. Certainly she hadn’t heard that right. There was no way...

“I love you,” Jane repeated softly, “and I don’t care about anything else- not a damn other thing in the world, because I love you, and you say I deserve better? Better than you?” She laughed, wiping a palm heavily underneath an eye that threatened to spill over. “Good luck, darling, because there is nothing better than you. Not for me. You’re the best there is.”

Joan could feel the yet another wave of tears thick in the back of her throat, a different dull tightness from the choking fear she had felt. A weak little noise forced its way up from inside her chest, from deep down in the pit of guilt and fear that lived at her core and broke all of the tension in her body.

Teetering forward against her, Joan started to cry quietly into Jane’s collarbone, trying to stifle most of the sounds she was making. Her hands tightened in cotton fabric as the woman’s arms wrapped solidly around her back, pulling her closer. She could feel Jane press her face into her messy mane of hair and hear her quiet, sniffling breaths.

“Shh, I know, Joan. I know, sweetheart, but it’s over now,” Jane whispered, rubbing slow, deliberate circles into her back. “It’s over and I’m never going to let you go back to any of those nasty people or anyone else ever again. You’re mine and mine alone. And I’m going to protect you and love you and hold you until my very last breath.”

Joan cries harder because she’s never had anyone speak to her this way before, not even Mrs. Greene. Nobody has ever been this fierce and passionate about wanting to care about her, about wanting her, and she just- she couldn’t- she wanted to-

Another sob shook Joan’s whole body and pain vibrates all throughout her. She holds tighter to Jane’s shirt, hyperventilating into her chest.

For a long time, the two of them just sit in the cold of the night. Jane never loosens her grip on Joan, but Joan eventually cries herself out and passes out right in Jane’s arms. Finally, with Joan carefully bundled in her arms, Jane stands up and makes the trek back to the house.

Katherine is a teary, worried mess for her mother and younger sister. When she spots Jane, she hurtles herself at her, not even noticing Joan until she’s clinging to the woman.

“Mama,” The teenager wept against her mother’s shoulder, “You were gone for so long, mama, I-I thought-”

“Shh, shh,” Jane soothed her, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “I’m okay, my darling. I’m right here. I just had some trouble with Joan.”

Katherine’s eyes immediately moved to her sister, who was shivering again.

“Is she okay?” She asked.

“She will be,” Jane answered, “Can you open the car door for me? We’re going home.”

Katherine nodded and did as she was told. Jane didn’t bother saying goodbye to her parents or the rest of the family, she just pulled out of the driveway and started for her house.

“Katherine?”

“Yes, mum?”

“You know I love you and your sister with all my heart, yes?”

“Of course, mum!”

Jane grips tighter to the steering wheel. She glances in the rear view window to see Katherine stroking Joan’s hair in the backseat. Despite the stray tears that slip free from her eyes, she smiled.

“Good.”

#foster au #joan on the keys #jane seymour #katherine howard #maria on the drums #six the musical #six the musical fanfic #six the musical au #six the musical fanfiction #tw: child abuse #tw: violence

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thespacevaquita · 4 years

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You know something that sucks? How much people try to destroy representation and expect things to be fine.

Its bs.

Movies and shows sometimes are so whitewashed or barely include poc, and then with historic movies, not only do people ignore valid situations and misrepresent other cultures, but a good amount of the time they also exclude women as well. Sitting them to the sidelines when women were involved a hellload.

And you know what's further infuriating? When people wanna bitch about how there shouldn't be gay, lesbian, trans, etc. type characters because it's going to turn their kids towards that like it's some kind of disease. And that's just blooming sad! Because these are the kind of people that would most likely beat, try to convert through horrid methods, or kick out a child that realized that is indeed apart of who they are.

And that's sad. That some people have to hide away parts of themselves, as though everything will be fine and dandy if they allow themselves to become what others want them to.

People of color shouldn't be mistreated and shown as less than just because of their skin color, people shouldn't be misrepresented because of cultural or religious differences, people shouldn't be biased againist others because of their sex or gender identity, and people should not try to accuse different sexualities of being a sinful disease!

People are people. We are all bloody humans. Humans that deserve to exist.

And sure, people can argue that awful people exist, but hell, awful people will always exist. And most of the time it does not matter what kind of a person they are, often it's how they were raised and treated that turned them into that.

People should stop hiding behind insults and slurs and stop pointing at others like they are to blame. We should support and care about one another. It shouldn't matter what the person looks like or identifies as or any of that. If they aren't hurting you by existing, and they allow you to be you, then don't fucking tell them how they should change.

Let people have representation. Let them know it is okay to be themselves. Let people have joy and happiness in their life without fear of being brutalized for things they can't change. Let people be people.

You know, a fun fact about me, is I used to be homophobic. I was raised in a christain household, was told that it was man and wife, and I thought everything else was sinful. I forced myself to daydream about wanting a husband, that I was going to grow up to be a beautiful woman, that I would be right in the eyes of God.

Then I met some people online. And I got to know them, absolutely adored them, they were good friends to me. And they introduced me to this whole new spectrum as they drew characters in gay relationships or they drew a character that didn't identify with my precieved reality. And you know, the funny thing is, I wasn't horrified and disgusted, I didn't throw out slurs, I was just confused. Because, this wasnt horrible and sinful. They made stories of characters falling in love, of having friendships, and I couldn't understand why the character being gay or lesbian or bi had anything to do with being some sinful threat.

And it allowed me to grow more curious, choosing to ignore what other people had told me, to go out and actual get to know people. And honestly, I have known people that are described as the worst of the worst and they were kinder and more genuine than most Christians I knew.

And I found out that I wasn't going to grow up and marry a nice husband. That I wasn't going to pop out two kids. That I wasn't this incredible woman everyone wanted me to be.

Because I didn't want to. I realized didnt even feel sexual attraction, that I was asexual. And then I figured out that I didn't want a romantic relationship, that I wasn't lonely or felt butterflies in my stomach because someone appealed to me in that manner, because I was aromantic. And I may use she/her pronouns in my life, being a woman never really felt right. Turns out, I identify with being agender.

Turns out, I'm not broken.

#Pride #POC Pride #It’s okay to be you #It’s okay to exist #Representation Matters #People are not less #For not being the ‘norm’

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youngbxker · 5 years

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@waywardcollective | cont. from ( x )

Lillian’s exact knowledge of Erasures and direct involvement with P.A.C.E. was...Limited, to say the least. She assumed that she had both frightened and weirdly impressed Elsner when she first showed up at one of their secret bases of operation, and the added benefit of being both Ginger’s niece and a friend of Eli’s (‘Two of my best recruits!’ He praised to her over a cup of tea.) that made her partially accepted into the ranks. Being only a little girl, though, she knew they’d never tell her everything. And not that she minded too much; being an errand girl for them and helping them plan a bit kept her plenty busy outside of homework and her usual home chores and activities. But there was always a curiosity about the meetings she couldn’t go to, or the papers she ‘absolutely could not read or lose ever’. Her mind raced too much with possibilities of all the things she was missing, both terribly sad and terribly exciting.

But she could tell from Ginger or Eli’s tones what feeling a certain event would have, and this meeting sounded like it had an all too serious air. Both of them had looked so solemn and distant, a rarity for them when she was in their presence, and even rarer in the calming atmosphere of Ginger’s cafe. But it almost felt like her presence strained them more and made the air around them harder to breathe, their focus on her piercing but also trying their best not to directly stare her way. To feel incredibly guilty for a reason she didn’t know also made her increasingly anxious, and a conversation could barely break apart the negativity of it all. So after giving them hugs (She wasn’t going to at first, thinking it not right in the moment, until Ginger had practically yelled in a pleading tone at her to do so when the little girl started to walk out the door. How emotional her aunt could be, but she tried so hard to hold it all in, even as Lillian saw her watery eyes and felt like she was crushed in her embrace.), Lillian took her leave, not wanting to question anything about this meeting at all.

And she debated the whole time she was baking if this was right in the moment. Her sweets always made everyone smile, getting loads of compliments, and filling the air with both good smells and good vibes. But she wondered if her presence after the meeting would bring on more despair for the members. She could almost taste the tension in the air, even though she wasn’t there. And as she stared at the oven slowly baking her classic chocolate chip cookies, her mind could only guess that this tension was caused by the most horrid thing that could happen to a person on Erasures...But she didn’t want to think too hard on how it happened or who it had been. She simply just tried to distract herself with making tea and watching snow start to fall outside, before her timer dinged and kettle screamed, and everything was packaged accordingly.

A hot thermos in one hand, a package of cookies in the other, she would’ve left faster had her father not finally come home and helped her bundle herself up more. And of course he couldn’t drive her, and he felt reassured enough that his sister or his newfound friend would get his daughter home safe and sound, with some daylight still burning to get her where she needed to be. But Lillian’s furrowed brow had him questioning her a bit, taking off her knit hat to stroke her hair and plant a kiss on the top of her head. She explained her worries simply and without giving up any P.A.C.E. business, the good girl she was. Her father seemed to understand it all without much details, giving her the advice of being polite yet cautious, and should the air not soften that she come home straight away. ‘Sometimes we need room to simply breathe,’ He explained, ‘And even if we appreciate all the kind gestures in the world, that room can help us greatly calm down what made us want the room in the first place. And then, after awhile, we walk outside again, with the kindness of then and later on now fueling our steps.’ That later kindness, they decided together, would just be a small get-together around the fire at a later date. But Lillian was all too happy to hop on board with it and even start planning it out, inspired and then feeling more upbeat when she finally left for P.A.C.E. HQ, kissing her father goodbye and having a bit of pep in her step.

That pep immediately vanished when she witnessed the tension she had felt there would be, with all eyes going to her darling face and becoming horrified as soon as she walk into a room, before trying their best to look away. Her happy heart sank to the pit of her stomach then, quietly putting the cookies on a nearby desk before quickly trying to seek out Eli and her aunt. Ginger was the first she found; or, rather, Ginger had run into her first and given her the same tight squeeze that she had in the cafe, muttering her name in a broken and low voice. Though Ginger could clearly register the worry and confusion on Lillian’s face when she pulled away, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief quickly, before accepting the thermos of tea. She stared at the cup she poured for a long while, and only had the one cup before speaking, ‘Delicious, Lil. You always make things so delicious. Even if the people burn holes at you right now with their stares --- I know that’s why you’re anxious, and I’m dreadfully sorry that I did that too --- They’ll appreciate this deliciousness too, I promise. And before you question it, yes, the meeting, and...Things happened during it. And, well...Eli could use this tea a lot more than anyone else right now.’ Ginger had spoken the last bit so soft, making Lillian more confused and worried at the mention of her friend, but at the same time a bit hopeful that she could somehow help with whatever happened. From that, she went straight to Elsner per Ginger’s instruction, and she saw Ginger being the initial person to start eating cookies before she went on her way, confidence rising with her aunt’s mood.

And all of her feelings from the whole day seemed to mix into one desire as soon as Elsner gave a sad smile upon explaining very simply what had happened. Even just hearing of the event with Eli in basic words made her tense, but she was determined to be in that room with him and at least do something. And her determination seemed to bring a bit of color to the leader’s face, patting her on the head and wishing her good luck, before opening the heavy door for her. She guided herself to Eli’s side, making her presence known but trying not to startle him further, thermos clasped in both hands as she sat near him. Her soft spoken talking, however, seemed to not be received, and so her father’s words rang in her head, which prompted her to ask the question.

And Eli’s slight opening up was...Unexpected, to say the least. He was a very private man, all things considered, and so she expected that he’d shoo her away back to her aunt so as not to worry her with himself. And although she definitely felt that worry turn into a knot in her chest --- That his comments not only confirmed her hypothesis of the meeting’s topic in her mind, but also looking over his own wording clued her in on the rest she didn’t want to look into before --- She felt a strange trust at getting this tiny peek into his room. And it only fueled her desire to give him as much kindness as he needed before she left him to his room again.

“A-Ah, I see.” She stated simply at first, her eyes focused on her friend’s face as she gripped her thermos a bit tighter. “...If you need to be alone to calm down from it, that’s truly fine. Thoughts of The Great War...I know they’re scary, and that everyone has something from then that haunts them now...” A serious statement surprising herself, quickly shaken away to get any other words or her own thoughts about it out of her mind, knowing that talking of it wouldn’t help. “B-But now those thoughts aren’t playing tricks on you, and now you have the room to recover from those thoughts and breathe. And everyone in the other rooms are safe and breathing, and you get to see that I’m safe and breathing too. And I’m here with this if you need it to help calm you and feel safe too ---” She extended the thermos confidently to him then, bumping his hand and trilby with it, and making a bit of a surprised noise at the little collision before holding it a nice distance away instead. A blush is brushed against her cheeks then, looking apologetic just in case she scared him. “...S-Sorry if I'm being overbearing or anything like that. I just hope at least knowing all of that helps ease your mind a bit, Eli.”

#v: shining like a diamond #waywardcollective #( chapter 2: in which Kaitlyn learns to rp Lillian again #IT'S BEEN LITERALLY TOO LONG BUT I CAN STILL WRITE LONG WOO #sorry if it's too long though; my brain was active and wanted to go ham on this )#( also my dialogue only feels kind of right even though i've only been writing dialogue for the past 3 months in cw #but whatever; i'll get the hang of lillian's voice again eventually )

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unbearablydeer · 5 years

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This Is The Eye Of The Hurricane | SoO

Name: Serneth Tahromor

Alias: Sern

Race: Dunmer/Altmer (Werewolf)

Gender: Female

Sexual Preference: Demisexual

Romantic Preference: Panromantic

Age: 38

Class: Nightblade

Birthdate: 28 Evening Star

Birthplace: Solitude

Alignment: True Neutral (borderline Chaotic)

Affiliation: None presently

Occupation: Mercenary (Sword-for-Hire)

Figure: Straight rectangular

Height: 5'8

Weight: 136 lbs

Skin tone: Light Blue Undertone

Hair: Silvery blonde

Eyes: Candy apple red

Distinguishing Features: Vibrant colored eyes, Sharply angled features, Warpaint across left half of head, Giant scar up her inner left thigh

Personality:

+Adaptable +Adventurous +Articulate +Efficient +Independent

/Aggressive /Ambitious /Casual /Maternal /Sarcastic /Self-Conscious /Solemn

-Aimless -Arrogant -Asocial -Callous -Crass -Faithless -Fiery -Hostile -Paranoid

Dress: A mixture of light leather and elven armor, her common clothes are relatively simple but nice enough makes her inconspicuous like she likes.

Special items:

She usually carries her first actual whittling project with her, it's small and aged, and certainly nothing great, but she keeps it none the less.

She also carries a torn bit of fabric with her father's craftsman signature on it that she often ties around her wrist.

Weapons: Orcish bow, Ebony Daggers,

Proficiencies:

One Handed

Sneak

Illusion

Pickpocketing

Lockpicking

Alteration

Light Armor

Archery

Speech

Magic/Special Abilities:

Armsman

Decapitation

Backstab

Shadow Warrior

Quiet Casting

Invisible

Muffle

Detect Life

Detect Dead

Waterbreathing

Wind walker

Merchant

Persuasion

Strengths:

Dependable

Observant

Adaptable

Perseverance

Social Intelligence

Zest

Weaknesses:

Belief in eye for an eye judgement

Blunt/Callous

Hedonistic

Paranoid

Over-ambitious

Pessimist

Uncontrolled beast form

Damaged right leg (slowed gait, heavy limp)

Backstory:

Childhood: It's safe to say that Serneth wasn't planned. She was born to Cyloi Tahromor and Saurmia Gaeire, the latter of which was a well known noble in their region. Naturally, if news got out about Saurmia's tumble with Cyloi, it'd be an entirely new scandal, especially with a child coming out of it. So, being the woman she was, Saurmia had Serneth in secret, and instantly handed her over to her father Cyloi, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the child. Cyloi was a woodcarver, so it was safe to say, he may not have had as much renown as Serneth's mother did, he was well enough off to take care of the babe. Serneth grew up being raised by Cyloi and his friend Daralo, learning both how to defend herself, and traits of both men's trades, whittling was where she shined when it came to woodwork, but with Daralo, she quickly picked up on the particular skill of thievery, much to her father's distaste, however, he let her make her choices in the end. Serneth was clever and grew up with a fair sense of book smarts and street smarts alike. She grew curious and ready to learn, which lead to the ultimate question of who her mother was. You see, Cyloi had been quiet about her mother's absence, and for some time, Serneth simply thought it was the normal to not have a mother until she began to spend more time around the few other children in their town. When she finally brought it up, Cyloi was hesitant, but finally sat her down and shortly explained her situation. At the time, Serneth didn't fully understand why her mother wanted little to do with her, and she began to grow a sort of resentment towards this woman she'd never even met, and even some towards herself for the worries of not being good enough began to form.

Adolescence: In her adolescence, it's not easy enough to say that Serneth was a troublemaker. Especially for the fact that she learned her birth-mother had married and had two more children. Two siblings she would more than likely never meet. This simply brought more disdain to her mind, whilst also strengthening her doubt in herself. Fueled by a mixture of a need to prove herself and simply straight up spite against Saurmia, she approached Daralo and began to undergo proper training with the blade and bow. Her tongue became just as sharp as her blades, especially when her finesse with the blade and bow became apparent to Daralo. His and even her father's praise quickly brought on a sense of arrogance, despite her own constant inner worries. She became harsher, her needs driving her further and further to the point that she began to take jobs alongside Daralo. The duo quickly became untrusted in their town, and more often than not, Serneth's father would find himself swamped with complaints from people Serneth had "assisted" for Daralo. Due to this, it was little surprise to anyone when she became outcasted in the town. Of course, what really got her going now, was because this was only partly because of her acts, the rest of it was due to none other than Saurmia Gaeire advising against even acknowledging any friend or family of Cyloi and Serneth Tahromor. Fanning the fire in her chest, Serneth had been ready to confront her mother, especially when sales began to go down for her once reputable father. She became much more angry and spiteful, and because of this, Cyloi became worried his daughter might do something brash, so with agreement from Daralo, the two urged her to set out on her own finally. Naturally, she'd been appalled by the idea at the time, but with her father's pleas, she finally relinquished to his wishes.

Adulthood: Serneth came into her adulthood bitterly sometime after leaving her hometown. She took to travelling and taking on odd jobs here and there, some of which were legal, others not so much. Although she appreciated the new sights, the itch to "right" her mother still burned in her chest, and fueled her spite and even some of her still remaining self-doubt. Aside from speaking with contractors, she became rather isolative, keeping to herself and setting up a small camp on the outskirts of cities or even in the midst of the wilderness at times. She's been rather disinterested in settling down anywhere permanently, and of course she's thought of returning to her hometown, but she's more than aware that if she did, there'd more than likely be trouble of some kind. So, as of now, she's simply taken to be one of the passing faces in cities and towns every once in a blue moon. And if when she is, who's to say everything will stay in it's right place. No one can keep track of everything, now can they?

Relationships:

Parents: Cyloi Tahromor (father), Saurmia Gaeire-Chamlock (mother)

Siblings: Paloril Chamlock (half-sister), Ryaalmo Chamlock (half-brother)

Children: -

Relatives: none that she would deem worth of recording

Partner: -

Familiar: -

Mentors: Cyloi Tahromor, Daralo Lerar

Friends: Fubuki

Allies: -

Rivals: -

Enemies: -

Pets:

Halitus (hawk)

Interests:

Calligraphy, Whittling, Collecting Flower Petals, Card Games, Reading, Body Art, Travelling, Astrology, Falconry, Poetry

Quotes:

"Ya know, if that coat's worth snapping at strangers over I guess you're just as ready to be buried in it?"

"Trust me, honey. I think you've done enough with that mouth of yours."

"I'm not worth much of anything these days."

Other:

Headcannon Voice: Amy Vorpahl

Don't mention her flower petal collection unless she brings it up. She'll bash the whole book into your head. Trust me, it's a big book.

10/10 best bird mom

Also don't talk to her about her mom. It's a horrid idea.

Guess who's a werewolf?

Roleplay Info:

Status: Open

Time Zone: EST

Script/Literate: Literate

Ratings:

PG13

R/M (Gore/Adult Content)

Methods:

Discord

Skype

Deviantart Notes

Tumblr

Other

#ShadowOf-Oblivion #werewolf/bird mom

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newx-menfan · 6 years

Photo

This week I’m examining the BEST and WORST Looks of Joshua Foley-Elixir!

(Full Warning- I will be talking about that one awful time Josh had a goatee in New Mutants Vol. 2…)

Uniforms:

1. Josh’s New Mutants Uniform…isn’t BAD, per say. The color scheme including yellow (sometimes colored as a light orange) takes away heavily from Josh’s gold skin and it’s too similar in shades. It’s not great, but it’s not as bad as some of the other New Mutants designs… (Looking at you Laurie and David…). Overall, the color scheme, in my opinion, was a bad choice for a majority of this group. I get they were somewhat trying to play off the yellow and black color scheme of the original New Mutants…but it just doesn’t look good on most of the team…

2. Josh’s Childhoods End Uniform is a huge improvement, in my opinion. It utilizes the white from his New Mutants uniform; but pairs it with red and brown instead of yellow, so it doesn’t overwhelm his gold (or black) skin tone. It’s nice clean design, and I like the addition of the vest!

3. I really love Josh’s X-Force Uniform. The black and grey design really makes his gold skin pop and be the visual focus! Mike Choi does an excellent job drawing Josh in this series, as well. While Josh’s hair has always been blonde/gold; in this series it colored more as platinum. Again, in my opinion it really makes Josh’s skin more noticeable- which should be the focus of his design! The only drawback to this design, is its not AS SHOWY when Josh is in his black form; which isn’t the worst thing since the team is meant to be a black ops X-Men team, but it’s not as visually interesting for readers…

4. Josh in the Xavier School Uniform actually looks really great. The key here is that his skin and hair is colored in a much lighter shade than the yellow in the uniform (more gold than yellow) and white instead of yellow highlights are used in his skin and hair. It keeps the yellow from being overwhelming. If the inker HAD used more yellow tones in his skin, like the New Mutants uniform and used a similar yellow in the suit to his skin-it would have basically the SAME issues the New Mutants uniform had.

5.Josh’s Bendis Utopians Uniform…is AWFUL! The orange and black clash horribly with his gold skin and it just looks really BLOCKY! The placement of the orange is also really strange to me; it just overwhelms the entire outfit completely! I really hope they won’t reuse this outfit for Josh being back on the Brotherhood: it’s just terrible!

BEST LOOK- While I love the X-Force outfit, I think it works better with the gold skin than the black; so I choose the Childhoods End Uniform. It looks good with both skin tones; and makes it the focal point of his character design. The earthy tones also fit well with Josh’s power set.

WORST LOOK- Unsurprisingly, it’s the Utopia Uniform.The orange color looks horrid with Josh’s coloring and the lines on the uniform make him look boxy; it just has a very harsh look to it that doesn’t suit Josh at all!

Civilian Wear:

1. I tend to avoid to avoid talking about New Mutants Vol.2 outfits in general…because they were all pretty terrible… (Absolutely no one is reading that book for the art…) But Josh and his horrid flesh colored goatee deserve mentioning from issues #5 and #6. In his defense, he was kind of at a weird Anti-Mutant place in his life, so I GUESS having a flesh colored goatee is understandable… But it’s still pretty dang vomit inducing (how Laurie fell for him in that moment: we will never know…) Josh throughout New Mutants has so many outfit changes; you kind of get whiplash… He starts out with the Reaver style of flesh colored goatee, bad tee-shirts, and jeans… Then when he starts hanging out with Julian, he picks up Julian’s fondness for horrible ill-fitting sweaters (Thank god Julian grew out of that stage in his life!) Finally, he kind of lands on a more preppier version of David’s wardrobe; jeans, tee shirts, and cargo pants. Practical, but a little more fashion forward than David and playing up the ‘Golden Boy’ image. Josh especially seems to have a fondness for blue hoodies or tee shirts paired with cargo pants, because that look has appeared multiple times…(I especially like the beanie paired with it!)

2. One of Josh’s more stand out looks in Childhood’s End was this white jogger uniform from ‘Mercury Falling'…which kind of makes Josh look like he’s running a cult in LA, if I’m being honest. The main problem I have with this outfit, is how baggy it looks on him (someone needs to invest in a good tailor!).

3. My favorite look is from Skottie Young, where Josh is having a bit of an existential crisis and is running around in white draw string pants barefoot. I’m kind of shocked Josh HASN’T really gone to more of the hippie fashion route; while it might be a stereotype because of his powers, I do think that style would be suitable for him. Incorporating patchwork cargo pants, scarves, harem pants, and linen button downs would fit with Josh’s desire for attention through adding pops of subtle color, plus I can TOTALLY see him humble bragging to David how his clothing is ALL FAIR TRADE. Also we DO know Josh is a practitioner of Tantra Sexology…

BEST LOOK: I’m going to go with the Skottie Young look. It’s simple, but it works really well of Josh- both visually and emotionally at that moment.

WORST LOOK: The Goatee! It’s just horrid and thank goodness it was dropped immediately after those two issues! It’s best left forgotten from Josh’s history…

WHAT I WOULD LIKE TO SEE: Josh developing a bit of his own style. Throughout DeFilippis and Weir we saw him basically mimicking others; even the style he landed on was a preppier version of David’s look. Partially why I want a more bohemian style with Josh, is it would help differentiate him a bit more style wise from Julian and David. While I don’t think Josh should go full hippie (He’s much too vain for that!), I think giving him more loose fitting clothing made of natural fabrics with accessories (hats, scarves, leather cuffs, necklaces, ect…)-would give him a unique style from the other X-kids and make him stand out more (something Josh always secretly wants!).

Next Week I will be completing the living New Mutants with Wind Dancer-Sofia Mantega’s Best/Worst Looks and analyzing the New Mutants Uniforms in general!

#Best Look #Worst Look #fashion #style #Elixir #Josh Foley #new xmen #new x men #x force #brotherhood of evil mutants #marvel #academy x #new x men academy x #bring back the new x men

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leos-regression-cove · 2 years

Text

The New Sibling

Chapter 3. The Meeting

Synopsis: Loki and Thor are taken to meet Mobius for the first time and take him home from the adoption center.

Word count: 1,998

Stand Alone?: no. The last 2 provide important context.

Warnings: no warnings apply.

Notes: This chapter makes my heart absolutely melt. Please enjoy some adorable toddler princess Loki and baby Mobius.

Read it on AO3!

Thor clicked the straps of Loki’s overalls into place and brushed his hair with a massaging comb.

The little passively sat through it, tolerating it without his normal sweet demeanor. Thumb planted firmly in his mouth. He refused to take it out for even a pacifier.

“It’ll be fine, I promise little brother,” Thor assured him as Loki stewed in premature resentment and anger towards this little that he didn’t even know the name of. “Sylvie will be taking him these first few weeks. He’ll sleep in her room and you’ll still have your room to yourself.”

This was not the correct thing to say.

Loki’s face reddened even more and his eyebrows furrowed intensely as he sent a backwards glance at Thor to let him know this was going to be a tantrum.

His older brother sighed heavily as he began to take the strands of hair between his fingers, and clipped colorful bows into Loki’s hair hoping to somehow make up for those insensitive words. “You can sleep with me if it’ll make you feel better,” he apologetically added.

“Mh,” Loki acknowledged.

“And you will get time with mummy, I promise. We’ll try to split the parenting duties.”

Loki cringed slightly. Parenting? Thor wasn’t his parent, but he appreciated the sentiment. “Up!” he lightly demanded the second Thor set his curls down.

Thor smiled and picked him up from the wooden step-stool-seat in the middle of the bathroom. Sometimes it was impressive how much Loki could fold himself up to sit so comfortably on the step.

“There. All done and ready. You look so pretty, I bet all the mummies and daddies will be jealous they don’t have a sweet baby like you today,”

“No baby,” Loki refuted.

In the second Loki took his thumb away from his mouth, Thor slipped in a pacifier. A nice green one, too. Loki’s favorite.

“Right, of course. A princess,” Thor corrected himself as they walked back to Loki’s room.

“A very pretty princess,” Sylvie cooed from her spot helping pack Loki’s bag and adding extra supplies for her new adoptee.

“Maybe we can show him all of those movies you like when we get home,” she mused.

“Tor moobie!” Loki pointed to his brother.

“I meant the baby, I bet he’d like to see them, too,” she proposed.

“...No,” Loki thoughtfully denied as if this were such a tough decision that he needed to mull over.

In the car ride, Loki apprehensively looked at the other car seat next to his own, the toys around it were identical to his, but the main difference was the fact that this one had orange lining in contrast to his own green.

He scrunched up his nose. What an ugly choice of color. He expected better from Sylvie. He hugged his wolf plushie closer to his chest, this new little wasn’t going to get anywhere close to her, he thought.

The building that Thor’s van pulled up to was a horrid, sterile gray. Something about it frightened Loki, causing him to cling to his older brother, but Thor didn’t blame him, the hairs on the back of his neck were bristeling as well.

“It’s alright,” Sylvie told them both, petting their backs as she beckoned them forward.

The inside of the building looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 70’s, or whenever wood paneling was popular, at least. The halls were mostly empty, but Loki occasionally saw windows that peered into large rooms of toys and or beds. His stomach churned.

“C’mon, hold mummy’s hand,” Sylvie said as he started to slow his pace and fall behind the group.

When he didn’t reach for it at first, she took it anyway, continuing to lead him and Thor down towards the end of the hall.

Loki whimpered as they reached a white door that Sylvie knocked on.

A woman opened it. She was probably around Sylvie’s age, but her hair was frizzy and graying from stress. She smiled in a plastic-y way that looked almost doll-like. Reaching slowly into the uncanny valley. The badge on her lapel advertised her name as “Ravonna Renslayer”.

Before Loki even had the chance to make an attempt to hide, the three were beckoned into her small office. Well, not miniscule, but it felt a little bit cramped especially without any windows. The walls were an oaky color and lightened the room slightly.

Thor and Sylvie took seats in the two chairs opposite the luxuriant office one reserved for her, and Loki was about to, touching Thor’s lap and beginning to instinctively make himself a seat when he took interest in the bassinet that took up most of the empty space on the far end of the room. It was one suited for travel and did not look especially comfortable. Sylvie kept one, but when Loki used it, his legs dangled over the sides unless he folded up.

He stared for a second, pausing as he leaned slightly on Thor’s legs but didn’t commit to sitting down entirely. Then he got up, his curiosity piqued, and decided he should check on what or who was in the cradle.

Although the shade hid the baby’s face from the harsh fluorescent lighting, it did not hide him from Loki’s curious gaze. Loki set both hands on the walls of the cradle as he looked over. The little inside was dressed in a brown jumpsuit, a rather ugly one, and had silver hair, his orange socks were barely visible, poking out of a soft blue blanket, no doubt crocheted by some retired folk as an act of charity. The pacifier held in his mouth was blank white with no designs. And the little had mittens on his hands, a charcoal gray.

“That’s Mobius,” Sylvie informed Loki, “he’s going to be your new little brother.”

Loki looked at her, and then down back at the baby who shifted slightly in his sleep. The new little’s eyebrows knitted together sadly like he was going to cry and Loki watched nervously, waiting for something to happen; A yell or scream, but nothing ever came. So, he continued to stare at the little, absolutely fascinated.

Mobius wiggled a little bit more, rubbing his oddly misshapen nose with mitted hands. But Loki quickly stepped away when he let out a small noise, a high little whine.

“Poor thing,” Sylvie cooed, standing up from her spot. She couldn’t quite pick Mobius up, not from this position, but she joined Loki at the side of the bassinet while Thor continued asking the lady behind the desk questions as he read through the final papers.

“Isn’t he cute?” Sylvie whispered to Loki, as he looked between the both of them, not quite sure if he should be jealous or not. She pet the sleepy baby’s belly and hair as he began to wake up.

The new little winked an eye open and then smiled as he saw Sylvie, reaching out towards her after a little yawn and a happy burble.

“You get to come home with us today, little one,” she smiled while adjusting the blanket over him. “And that’s Loki,” she informed him, pointing at the toddler next to her, “he’s going to be your brother.”

She did not specify big or little or the same age, because she knew Loki would inevitably fluctuate. There would be mornings where she and Thor were rushing around with two newborns and others when Mobius would get up to Loki’s age, maybe old enough to join him at daycare, but that wasn’t something for them to worry about yet.

Loki poked at the baby cautiously and watched as Mobius sensitively moved his legs away. Then he leaned in, as much as he could, and pet the little’s mustache, a silver, well manicured, broom which he hadn’t noticed before with the lighting of the shade. Facial hair itself was not uncommon on littles, especially older ones, but something so well taken care of on a little this small was almost unheard of. Littles who mostly took formula or pureed food had a much higher possibility of getting things stuck in their hair, so most caregivers usually opted to shave it, but it seemed that Mobius had managed to keep his.

“What do you think of him?” Sylvie asked.

“Um,” Loki pondered for a moment, scrutinizing the baby as Mobius looked up at Sylvie with his big blue eyes, in a way that could really mean anything. Instead of answering, Loki just stuck his thumb in his mouth. Although, he also furrowed his brows disapprovingly.

Sylvie stuck out her lip in exaggerated sadness at Loki’s resigned reaction. “Well I think he’ll make a fine addition to our family,” she corrected him, “and now you’ll have mummy home with you all day when big brother goes to work,” she hinted.

But that didn’t seem to change Loki’s opinion. He kept the little scowl but just tried maneuvering himself into her, hoping she’d put her arms around him and rock him back and forth soothingly.

“I know, that’s going to be fun, right? You, me, and baby,” she cooed.

“Baby,” Loki repeated, pointing at the baby, who grinned and wiggled, flexing his hands within his thick mittens.

“Ms. Laufeydóttir,” the adoption coordinator asked.

Sylvie looked up.

“Just a few more things before you can take him home,” she smiled in that uncomfortably saccharine way.

“Right… right, of course.” Sylvie maturely sat back down.

Loki looked between the bassinet and the laps of his caregivers, eventually settling on making that spot in Thor’s lap he had contemplated when entering the sterile office.

But he still watched the little bassinet, fascinated by the way he hardly saw a little arm poke out as Mobius readjusted his pacifier or rolled himself over, and how besides the occasional crinkle of a diaper under the cotton jumpsuit, or huff of contentment, the little was silent and seemingly still.

“He’s interesting, isn’t he?” Thor whispered as he pressed a soother into Loki’s mouth.

The little nodded absently. Definitely interesting.

Sylvie slid a couple final papers back to the woman behind the desk.

They stood up and shook hands as if it were a grand business deal.

“Let me grab a stroller for you,” Ravonna smiled.

“Tolla!” Loki repeated.

“Stroller’s for the baby, you get a big warm brother hug,” Thor told him, tickling his baby brother.

That made Loki pause. “No tolla?”

“Well, you get to be held. Don’t worry, you can sit in your stroller soon,” Thor explained, “Mummy can’t carry the baby on her own, it’s just to make things easier while we get him back to the car.”

Loki still pouted over it, at least until he saw the stroller. It wasn’t the nice type he had for outings. The thing was probably closer to a hospital wheelchair with a colorful fabric and over the shoulder restraints that did not look comfortable. Like the rentable ones at the mall.

Thor gently took Loki off his lap and got out of the sticky leather-like chair to help Sylvie lift Mobius out of the bassinet.

The poor little looked, if not anxious, at least very surprised by this development, and made a little mewl, the most noise he had made the entire visit.

Then, Sylvie squatted down by the front of the stroller fixing the buckles and adjusting them as the new baby tried his best to make things easier for her, holding the nylon straps in his mittens and trying to lean back in the padding, legs wide so she could pull up the strap that rested between them, bringing that point of the seatbelt up to click by his navel just like the shoulder and tummy straps.

As Sylvie began to push him towards the exit, back to the car, Loki hopped up into Thor’s arms, thumb back in mouth and tried to hide his face, still not happy with the way things seemed to be going.

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admin-cock-creations · 6 years

Text

Date a Merc: CHAPTER 4

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Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Soldier/You Summary: Date a merc who will declare war on all of Christmas. Length: 1,136 words Warnings: N/A Other Locations: AO3 || Wattpad

Many, many years ago, you had decided on one particularly scorching summer that you would rather live in a near constant state of five layers of clothes rather than your shortest shorts and thinnest tank-tops. Heat, you decided, was your mortal enemy, and you absolutely despised it. So it was almost a dream come true when your longtime boyfriend, Jane Doe, had informed you he’d be moving bases for work to a much colder climate. You could have tackled the man to the ground and smothered him in kisses at that moment. In fact, you may have done exactly that.

You were more than eager to toss 75% of your atrocious summer shorts and tops into a donation bin as you packed. A grin was on your face and the only thing on your mind was the heavenly chill in the air and the wonderful embrace of your favorite sweater. You were moving to a place called Coldfront, and you just knew it was going to be your little slice of heaven. In truth, it was a little hard to adjust in the beginning. Transferring from the horrid New Mexico desert to a place where 40 degrees was considered a warm day was a bit of a culture shock, but you certainly weren’t complaining because it only meant you and Jane got to cuddle up nice and close at night.

Once you got over the drastic temperature change, however, it really was heaven in your eyes. Especially so when the Christmas season came around.

Jane’s team already thought you were wonderful, but once you started to decorate the base and bake all the traditional Christmas Time treats, they thought you were nothing less than a deity. Demo once commented you were jollier than Ol’ Saint Nick himself, and you arguably were! Nearly every day you were clad in some sort of festive and brightly colored sweater and a beaming grin, not to mention everything else you’d been doing to liven up the base for the holiday season. Though, you couldn’t help but notice something almost seemed off with your beloved Soldier. He was still just as loveable and tender to you as the day you’d begun dating him, but now, something wasn’t quite right. You noticed him with an almost irritated scowl on his perfectly pouty lips, and sometimes you could hear him grumble about something under his breath, but each time you brought it up he’d simply smile and brush it aside. So that’s what you did, too.

Until today, at least.

Christmas Eve was fast approaching, and with everyone starting to wrap up their presents, you had decided to employ the help of your friendly team Heavy to go find the perfect tree to put in the common room. The gentle giant was more than eager to assist, of course, and later that evening everyone was lounged blissfully around the assorted sofas and chairs while holidays tunes rang through the air and you joined Pyro in trimming the massive tree. Soldier had gone out to do something in town earlier and hadn’t been around for a while, but the sudden loud thud of a door opening let everyone know if his safe return back to the Coldfront base.

“Sounds like yer hubby is back, darlin’!” Dell commented with a boisterous laugh, which you and the rest of the team couldn’t help but join in as you made your way down the ladder you’d been using. Soon enough, though, the room had fallen almost deathly silent and you were worried you’d done something wrong, but as you lifted your gaze and glanced over to the entryway, you discovered the reason for the silence. There, looking stiff as a board and covered in snow, was your dear Jane Doe, looking incredibly displeased with his current state. From how he looked you could only guess that a large mound of snow and fallen over him as he’d made his way back inside, and it took everything you had not to snicker and how completely silly he looked. His teammates, however, were not as easy to silence and started to guffaw with laughter.

“Oi, Jane! You’re s’posed to leave the blizzard outside where it belongs, mate!” Mundy’s comment was responded to with more laughter and a slight growl from the Soldier, but it didn’t take long before he was barking out in his signature drill sergeant voice.

“THAT’S IT! I AM DECLARING A FULL WAR ON EVERYTHING KNOWN AS CHRISTMAS!”

That certainly shut everyone up quick.

“Ey, come on, Sol! There’s no need fer that kinda talk!” Scout was the first to speak up on it, waving his arms around in his almost over-dramatic way of speech, something that your boyfriend didn’t seem to enjoy at the moment.

“BY THIS TIME TOMORROW I WANT EVERYTHING RED, GREEN, AND OR TINSEL LIKE OUT OF THIS BASE!”

The entire team had burst out into varied groans and complaints, but you were only silent, a small and mischievous smile crossing your lips as you glanced up at one of the ceiling rafters for a moment. You had learned that the American brute would listen to anything you asked of him if you used the proper tone of voice, and you decided to pull that orderly tone out on him right now.

“Soldier! At the threshold, pronto!”

There was only one threshold in the room -- an awkward strip of wood through the carpeting that Scout had a tendency to trip over -- but Jane was standing on it in less than a second, looking stiff enough to be at roll call on a military base. The rest of the team gave you confused looks, but slowly, as you marched towards your man, they broke out into knowing grins and leaned back to watch the show.

Soldier actually saluted you when you came to stand before him, but his stiff posture quickly faltered and he let out a soft noise of surprise when you stood on your toes and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. The rest of the room broke out into hoops and hollers, a few even whistling at the two of you as you pulled back just enough to smirk and admire his flabbergasted state. Your only response to his unasked questions was to point directly above you, where, after looking up, the man found a neat cluster of mistletoe hanging.

“You know you get kisses when you stand under the mistletoe, hun, and it’s related to Christmas. Do you really want to declare war on something that gets you a little extra loving around the holidays?”

Your sultry question made the poor man flush under his helmet, and a shy, crooked grin broke out over his face as he chuckled and reached up to rub the back of his neck.

“W-well, I guess in that case, we can keep Christmas around for a while longer.”

#TF2 #date a merc #reader insert #Team Fortress 2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 solly #soldier #solly #tf2 soldier/reader #tf2 solly/reader #soldier/reader #solly/reader #my words

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 7 years

Text

Don’t Trust the Lady, Chapter Three-Peaky Blinders Series

Requested: No

Warnings: angst

A/N: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long! College has been insane!

That night I looked good, real good. I used the time after the meeting with Alfie to comb all the shops in London for the best dresses and makeup. When I got back to the hotel, I spent hours getting ready. It was typical for me to take my time to look good for social events, but usually they were more glamorous than having dinner with a gangster. However, dinner with Alfie was a special occasion.

The sleeveless magenta Elsa Schiaparelli dress I’d bought accentuated my slim build as well as my dark skin. My black hair was in soft waves that rested just below my chin. I slipped on my camel coat and left for Alfie’s place.

Alfie’s home was simple and not too far off from the bakery. It wasn’t extremely lavish or gaudy as some gangster’s houses are. The house was mostly bare save for some neutral colored furniture in the parlor and sitting rooms. He was wearing a different shirt than he had been earlier, but not a jacker nor a hat. In fact, he answered the door with a white apron tied around his waist and quirked an eyebrow at me.

“You’re early,” Alfie said.

“I’m usually fashionably late, but if I did that for tea, they’d always be cold,” I said.

Alfie nodded and stepped aside. “Well, tea’s almost on.” I walked inside and let him take my coat off my shoulders. “Smells like bread.”

“Happens.” Alfie paused. “You look nice for dinner.”

I half-smiled. “Thank you, Alfie. What’d you make for dinner?”

“A roast.”

“S’not Sunday.”

“You can have roast at any time, sweetheart.”

I hesitated. “I know that, I’m just used to waiting till Sunday to enjoy one. Waiting for things makes finally getting them so much sweeter.”

“S’pose it can, but doin’ what ya want when ya want is a fine way to live.”

“Of course.”

Alfie was never tense that night. He told stories and spoke around business over tea. He did not speak with his mouth full-----something I half expected him to do. I did my best to steer him towards business, but he was certainly not biting. On the other hand, the best part of my job was the dance----the dance of conversation, that is. There was something exhilarating about the other person not having the slightest idea of my intentions. By the time they realized what I’d done---if they realized what I’d done---it was too late. One would assume that Alfie would know what I was on about since he worked with so many “bad” people, but I’d gotten my way with men like Alfie before.

“That must have been astounding,” I said.

“I’d hardly call the war astounding, but I suppose that story was,” Alfie said before having some whiskey.

“No, I’ve always thought the war was horrid, absolutely horrid.” I swished the wine around in my glass. “The...the dread of knowing a dear friend or family member had gone to fight and never knowing if they were all right or if they’d come back. “

The wine was dry but it went alright with the roast. I looked down at my half eaten food, forcing myself to look pitiful. It wasn’t too hard to pull off considering the best way to tell a lie was to insert a bit of the truth.

“I heard that Tommy and the rest of ‘em fought in the war,” Alfie griped.

“Yes, they did.”

“But so did someone else you knew.”

“Yes, my brother----he was older, Tommy’s age, actually.”

“What was his name?”

“Edward, but everyone who was mates with ‘im called him Eddy. He was tall, dark, and handsome as well as one of the smartest people I knew. When he got drafted, he and Tommy promised me that they’d come back. I prayed and hoped every day he would come home.” I hesitated. “Then, the train came in and Eddy didn’t come off it. Tommy told me that Eddy had been killed in a tunneling explosion and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“Then you have nothing to be sorry about.” I finished the rest of the wine. “Is there a particular reason as to why you gave me wine?”

“Women like wine.”

“Most wines but not all women solely drink wine. I, for example, wouldn’t have minded gin or whiskey.”

“No rum?”

“Not the piss you make.”

It was a risk and for a second, my heart lept up to my throat. Then, Alfie’s mouth broke into a smile and he chuckled.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll let you have that, love, but don’t think you’ll get to go around talkin’ about my product like that.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Could I have some more?” I lifted my glass.

“Course.” Alfie re-filled my glass.

I took another sip and watched Alfie take a sip of his third glass of whiskey. One rule of thumb I’d learn to follow was to never match the other person in drinks. One should always stay one and a half behind the other person in order to keep one’s head.

“So, Alfie, I believe the time has come for me to ask you just why you invited me to dinner.”

Alfie’s expression grew more serious as he leaned forward on his forearms. “As I said before, I wanted to get to know the woman I’ll be working closely with for the forseeable future.”

“You have no ulterior motives?”

“No.”

“I find that hard to believe. Everyone has an ulterior motive, even if they don’t know it.”

“Then what’s yours?”

“I saw this as an opportunity to get to know the man I will be working so closely with for the forseeable future. Also, I wanted to take advantage of the free meal.”

“You are an interesting woman, Theodora.”

“Thank you.”

“Theodora, where does a girl get a name like that?”

“My father read a lot and he came across it in a book of short stories.”

“Hm, and no one calls you by anything different?”

“My brother called me Teddy and it stuck.”

Alfie lit a cigarette and leaned back into his seat. “Teddy and Eddy, what a pair.”

“Yes, we once were.” I sipped some more wine, feeling my mind wander a bit. “Why rum? You could sell anything to America---vodka, whiskey, beer, gin---but you chose rum.”

“The only other place they can get rum is from the Caribbean and it’s a far riskier operation than buyin’ from me.”

“Ah, but you could still serve to learn something from those Caribbeans. Rum should be sweeter than what you’re selling.”

“They drink what I give ‘em and they like it. Takes more time to distill sweeter rum anyway. The way I run the distillery is like a tight ship and one change,” Alfie held up one finger, “could make it fall apart.”

“Distillery’s a delicate thing,” I said.

“’S practically a glass house.”

Alfie had no idea that he had just shown his trump card to me, but if he did, he was better at my game than I was. My stomach churned at the fact that I would have to tell Tommy everything once I got back to the hotel and I usually never felt that way. If anything, I felt giddier than Christmas morning. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially since I barely knew Alfie.

The rest of the night was civilized and I thanked Alfie after dessert for tea.

“It was lovely and I appreciate it.”

“I appreciate it as well, love. You could’ve been out at the pub gettin’ any bloke you want but you stayed in with me.”

“It wasn’t so bad, sometimes the pubs are as dull as the dead.”

He walked me to the car and kissed the top of my hand goodnight. A shiver ran up my spine as I slid into the car and leaned my head against the seat.

I could not and would not continue feeling this way about Alfie. Sure, he had brute strength and was handsome in his own right, but he was business partners with Tommy and I had to remain professional around him. Besides, Alfie was not the kind of man I preferred.

Twenty minutes later, I was walking over to Tommy’s suite and knocked on the door. There was a bit of rustling before he opened the door.

“What?” The door was barely open and he was blocking my line of vision. To most people, Tommy still looked neat but his hair was too mussed to have been done on his own.

I gritted my teeth involuntarily. “I just got back from Alfie’s and wanted to give you my report.”

“Fine, we can do this later.”

When I looked away, I saw it: a flash of curled blonde hair. I knew that hair like the back of my hand. The woman who owned the head of hair had been the bane of my existence and ruined everything. My heart thudded in my ears and everything moved slowly as I managed to brush past Tommy. There she was, sitting on the velvet couch, wearing a blue silk dress and looking shameful: Grace bloody Burgess.

“Grace, I believe congratulations are in order,” I said facetiously.

“Hello, Teddy,” she said quietly, her eyes aimed on her hands in her lap.

“Teddy, get out,” Tommy said.

“No, Tom, I’m quite fine here seein’ as I’m supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be here, are you, Grace?” I asked as I took a step closer. “No, you’re supposed to be with that fine American man you married. He’s extremely respectable where he’s from.”

Grace’s eyes snapped up to peer into mine. “How did you know that?”

“I have connections everywhere. I had connections at the museum where you and Campbell used to rendezvous back when you worked for him.”

“That’s enough, Teddy,” Tommy said.

“No, it isn’t.”

Grace stood. “You should listen to Tommy.”

“Do not tell me what to do.” I stepped closer to her. “I suggest you leave now.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me.”

“I would never waste a manicure on you. However, I do have ways of getting information to anyone and everyone I please.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Do not test me. I told you to leave and never come back a year ago and here you are, back with him. Don’t you see that you ruin ‘im? That all you’ll ever do is ruin ‘im? He does not need you.”

“Teddy!”

“If I ever catch you in Small Heath or near him again, you will wish that you never left Ireland.”

Slowly, Grace grabbed her things and walked out of the suite. Tommy was absolutely seething, but I couldn’t have cared less. He would never lay a hand on me unless he wanted Polly, John, and Arthur taking turns strangling him. That was why when he whirled around once Grace left, I didn’t move from my place. He stormed over to me, the anger rising in his face.

“That was none of your business!” Tommy snapped.

“It was all of my business, Tommy! She was using you to get information and take the whole family down, me included! She’s only back because her husband isn’t exciting or dangerous-----she does not really care about you!” I snapped.

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!’

“YES, I DO!” I breathed and shook my head at him. “People like us don’t get to be happy, Tom. We don’t get to fall in love and care about people----not when all we do is rob, kill, and destroy our enemies.”

“Who told you that?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“You did.” I swallowed thickly since the tension brewing between us was practically suffocating. Grace had always been a point of tension between Tommy and me since she became a barmaid. I didn’t trust her and I was right to. So, when the time was right, I told her to leave Small Heath and never look back unless she wanted her life ripped away from her. She’d tried to appear strong and accused me of being jealous of her and Tom, but the next day, she was gone. Sure, Tommy was upset and withdrawn for a long time, but he got over it. He would have been completely over her if she hadn’t found out that he was in London.

Tommy sighed and poured himself a drink. “What makes you think I didn’t call her over here?”

“Because you didn’t know she was in the country and I did.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes at me but said nothing. “What do you have on Solomons?”

“He didn’t give me much besides some war stories, but the distillery is a glass house. One rock thrown at it will make it shatter into bits.”

Tommy nodded and took another drink. “Imagine what a grenade would do.”

“Irreparable damage.”

Of course, I immediately knew that Tommy was going to throw a grenade into the distillery or, at the very least, make a threat to do so. A part of me wanted to warn Alfie, but a larger, more logical part of me told me to keep quiet and do my job. Destroying other people’s businesses was not my expertise anyway.

#peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons imagine #series

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