#it’s so bizarre because you don’t see people scoffing when someone watches the walking dead instead of a documentary or like the letter M

[acotars]

(I have no idea if this will make sense—sorry I’ve had some wine this evening and so I’m rambling)

I think this is a “popular” opinion but not widespread—people need to understand that there is so much nuance to reading. Obviously there’s the “you can like things I don’t like” and vice versa, but also in HOW people enjoy things. Like take Fourth Wing (I know I know), but while I also agree with a lot of the complaints, I still was just like “that was a fun time, I totally ignored all the sex scenes bc I hate how they were written, but I was vibing the whole time.” And I feel like some people would still respond to my opinion like “okay but it was so horrible how did you even enjoy it at all??? Lame”

Like okay Betty, I love high fantasy as much as you, but sometimes I want something that just fucks, okay?

(and not to say you aren’t allowed to not like things, but there seems to be a fine line between “hey! I didn’t like this but that’s okay” and “I hated this and I CANNOT comprehend why ANYONE could find even an inkling of fun from this + I’m going to subtly implicate that I think people who like this are stupid”) (obviously not for books that are objectively hurtful or offensive)

And of course you can go so many different ways than just that example, but it’s a mix of gate-keeping, prejudice, lack of empathy, and a bit of a superiority complex that makes it so hard for the reading community to really be united.

[thetaleoflevi]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Company

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Content Type: SFW, Modern AU, Fluff

TW: Mentions sex for a split second, smoking, heartbreak, mentions death

Description: Reader gets stood up and gets a ride home from her waiter, Levi.

Word Count: 3.4k

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There you sat in that booth. Alone, starving both socially and physically. You were at a restaurant waiting to meet the man of your dreams. You met him on a dating app and the chemistry was too good to be true. He was charming and funny. He comforted you and brought peace to your mind about your biggest insecurities. His personality checked every single one of your boxes for what you described as a “perfect man.”

One thing you failed to remember was his inability to make time for you. He always said he would call you at a certain time and you believed him every. single. time. You waited hours just so that he wouldn’t. He didn’t even text you an excuse for why he had left you hanging.

Why you believed him this time was beyond you. You were waiting for him like you always were. It’s been two hours already. It’s ten o’clock and you are alone, sipping tap water through a skinny black straw. “Ma’am, I’m here to let you know that we close at ten thirty. Are you sure you don’t want to order anything? Not even to-go?” The male waiter looked at you with sympathetic eyes. His name tag read ‘Levi’ in uppercase letters.

You sighed disappointedly and stood up, plopping the napkin that rested on your lap the entire time onto the table. “No, I’m okay. Thank you for all the water refills. This is for you.” You gave him a thirty dollar tip, which you thought was bizarre until you remembered that this was a high-end establishment and people usually tipped amounts in the hundreds. “Thank you, Miss. Have a good night.” He put the money in his apron. “You as well.” You replied squeezing out of the booth and exiting through the large, bulky-knobbed doors.

You were starting to regret wearing such a dress out in public. It was a long burgundy dress that hugged the curves of your body, with straps that hung off your shoulders. Your decision to ditch your jacket was not appreciated with the cold breeze that whistled through the night. The open area on your back had goosebumps that spread to your entire body when you sat down on some steps and leaned on a wall covered in cold, blue square tiles just outside the restaurant.

You were unsure if you should walk home or call a taxi. Both seemed unsafe with the apparel you were sporting. ‘I think i’ll wait here for a little,’ you thought to yourself. You looked down at your phone to see a message from your supposed date. “Sorry. I had to work a little later today. Raincheck?” You scoffed and blocked his number as fast you could. Later you would stupidly regret it when you felt lonely, but for now that was the best choice you could’ve made.

You hugged yourself as the ruthless breeze continued to mock your sleeveless arms. Suddenly a door to your right opened, and out came the waiter who attended you. He was holding a take-out box and the black apron that was tied around his waist before now hung on his forearm. He looked down and flinched in surprise when he saw you sitting on the stairs against the wall.

“Miss, what are you still doing here?” He questioned leaning down to talk to you at eye level. “Don’t ask me that question. I’m too embarrassed to answer.” You closed your eyes for a second and the second after you opened them he was seated next to you. “Cigarette?” He extended an open box towards you. “Don’t you know those things are deadly?” You asked, discreetly voicing your pass on the offer.

“You’re right about that…” He confirmed, pulling one out and stuffing the box into his pants pocket. He put it between his lips and lit it, inhaling for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. A medium sized cloud of smoke left his lips. “…but we’re all going to die someday. We can’t be afraid of the inevitable.” You nod in agreement. “You’re right about that.” You say, returning his line.

Your whole body shivers when the wind strikes your bare arms again. The man next to you notices and looks at you with slightly widened eyes. “I’m so sorry, you must be freezing. Let me get you a jacket-“ “No, no. I’m alright, really.” You interrupted, waving your hands in front of you. “I’m going to get you a jacket. Please, wait here. My car is right across the street. I’ll be back in an instant.” He put out his cigarette and stood up. “Levi, I’m okay.” You say calmly, grabbing onto his arm before he could leave. When he stopped, you slowly retracted your arm.

“I like you. You pay attention to detail. Most people would have ignored my name tag.” He gave you a soft smile. He must have been new to smoking because his teeth still looked nice and he didn’t sound like an eighty-year-old man. “What’s your name?” You stood up so that you could talk to him without having to tilt your head up so harshly. “Y/N.” He nodded in acknowledgement. “Pretty name. So listen, Y/N. I don’t want you to freeze out here. You can’t walk by yourself or take a taxi home this late at night. If I let you do either of those things, I would feel responsible for any horrible thing that could happen. Please—and I’m asking in the most respectful way I can—let me take you home.”

He cringed at himself when he saw how you laughed at the way he phrased his question. “That still sounded bad, huh?” “Yep.” You responded with another chuckle. “Well, you get what I mean. Let me drive you to your house.” You rolled your eyes in defeat. “Fine.” “Great.” “Awesome.” “Spectacular.” “Stupendous.” You were both bickering like children before you finally made it to his car.

“How does a woman like you get stood up on a date?” Levi asked curiously, shaking his head in disbelief. “What makes you think I got stood up?” You say in a playfully defensive manner. He gave you the ‘i’ve-seen-it-happen-like-a-billion-times’ look for a second. “Yeah, I got stood up.” You admitted sheepishly. “Tell me about it. The guy must really be somebody to let you down like this. If I were him, I’d be begging for your forgiveness for hours.” You turned to look at his wide-eyed expression. A slight tint of pink was visible on his cheeks with thanks to the moonlight.

“I-I mean, I wouldn’t do it for hours, but I would definitely beg for your forgiveness.” He facepalmed at his forwardness. “Just tell me about this guy before I pull over and let you drive yourself home.” Levi’s flustered state was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

“Okay, just don’t make fun of his name. Even if he deserves it.” You muttered the last part. “His name is _____. He-” Before you could continue introducing _____ to Levi, Levi had burst into a snickering fit. He was trying so hard not to laugh, trying to remain respectful while you told your story.

“Rude! Anyway,” you continued,“Apart from his name, this man would have been what you would describe as a soulmate, if it weren’t for his awful routine of letting me down when he promised he wouldn’t. He’s funny, he’s handsome, and he was SO good at comforting me. That all goes to waste when you can’t make time for someone. That’s how he went to waste.” The car went silent for a few seconds.

“I know how that feels. Something similar happened to me a few years ago. There was this girl I was crazy about. She was so beautiful and elegant in everything she did. She was a complete opposite to me. We were supposed to get married one winter, but she called it off a few days before the wedding—something about her mom being really sick.” He looked ahead at the road with a look as if he still resented her after all these years.

“It wasn’t until I saw a post— a picture of her and her family in a cabin in the woods. Her mom was alive and well and her new man was doing just fine. The part that left a scar on my heart wasn’t even the fact that she left me for another man days before our wedding. I could’ve dealt with that if she had told me that she had fallen out of love with me and wasn’t going to marry me. But the part that left a scar on my heart is that lie. It had me wondering what other lies there were hidden in our relationship.” Once again the car went dead silent.

“We’re here.” Levi said as he put his car in park. “Thank you for bringing me home, Levi. I don’t know how to repay you. I gave you all the money I had in cash.” Levi chuckled at this. “You don’t owe me anything, but, if you really want to repay me, how about giving me your phone number?” He opened the contacts app and created a contact for you in his phone. He handed it to you so you could put your phone number in.

“Why would you want my phone number?” You ask, taking his phone and typing in the digits. “I really enjoyed your company today, Y/N. Maybe we’ve just been talking to the wrong people this whole time.” He said placing one hand back on the steering wheel. “You think so?” You ask as you hand his phone back to him. He smiled at the numbers printed on his screen before his screen clicked off. “I do.” He says turning his body to face you.

The silence is deadly. It’s intoxicating. Intoxicating enough to plant bad ideas into your head.

“Do you maybe want to come in for some coffee or tea?” Twelve words that would decide whether the two of you still believed in love.

You noticed the way his lips threatened to form a smirk. “We’re not having sex, i’ll tell you that right now.” You say putting a hand on the car door. “That’s not at all what I had in mind.” He said with a cheeky smile. “Good. So are you coming in or not?” You released your grip on the door and backed up a little. He turned off the car and exited, meeting you on the sidewalk. “I’ll have some tea, please and thank you.” You smiled and led him to your house.

You closed the door behind you and watched as Levi let his eyes wander around your house. “It’s small, but I didn’t expect anything too luxurious either. Considering the fact that you tipped me a mere thirty dollars and you’re single. Is this enough for you?” Levi inquired, exploring the walls and looking at the occasional pictures on your walls. You furrowed your eyebrows as you filled a tea kettle with water to heat up on the stove. “First of all, I gave you thirty dollars for serving me four glasses of tap water. Second, how would you know about the way I live based on my relationship status? Third, yes, this is enough for me.”

He changed the subject nervously as he walked into the small room that was your kitchen and dining area, “You have good taste in tea. I’ve been trying to find this specific brand for days now. I see you’re the one cleared the shelves.” He opened a cabinet to reveal boxes on boxes of tea from your favorite tea brand. “It’s kind of an addiction.” You say quietly. He chuckles as he closes the cabinet and stands next to you.

“The water is ready. How do you like your tea?” You held a small white teacup. “That’s alright, I can make it myself.” You give him the teacup and move away from the stove to give him access to the kettle. “Feel free to rummage through my fridge and cabinets for anything you want to add to your tea. I’m gonna go change into something less attention seeking.” He nodded as you walked away, eyeing the way you held the length of your dress to prevent yourself from tripping.

You first went to your bathroom to remove the minimal effort you had made to try makeup. After, you changed into a plain white t-shirt, some gray sweatpants, and some fuzzy socks. Apart from the fuzzy socks, it was a boyish look, but you preferred it over booty shorts and camisoles. You went back to the bathroom to remove the bobby pins that were in your hair, letting every hair that was pinned previously fall into place.

“I’m sorry, have we met?” Levi said teasingly as you made your way to the living room. “Funny.” You replied, sitting far from Levi’s end of the couch.

“So, why did you invite me into your house?” The dark-haired man asked after taking a sip of his tea. You didn’t expect such a question, making it difficult for you to come up with an answer that was quick and sincere. You went with what rolled off your tongue easiest, which wasn’t a safe thing to do with a question like that. “I wanted company.” The sincerity was definitely there.

You brought your knees up to your chest and hugged them. “I waited those two pathetic hours at the restaurant because I wasn’t expecting to come home alone again. Somebody promised to be there.” Levi tilted his head at your words. “Well you managed to do the first part. I’m here. And I may not be the person you expected, but I can do those same things he did better.” He set his cup down and watched as you chewed on your nails, as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen.

You stopped once you felt the annoying feeling in your chest tone down. “I think you should stop smoking. Lung cancer isn’t pretty.” He picked up the teacup in the strange manner you had noticed before and took another sip. “Give me a really good reason and i’ll consider it. Don’t make it a scientific one either, like cancer and shit like that.” He set the cup down on the table once again. He crossed his legs as he waited for you to give him your great reason for preventing an entire addiction.

“I want to have enough time to befriend you. I can’t do that if you’re slowly decreasing your lifespan.” You lowered your knees to sit more comfortably in a cross-legged position. He stood up and walked closer to your end of the couch and ended up sitting a foot away from you with your legs touching.

“Why would you want to befriend someone like me?” You could see the tiredness in his eyes. From the short distance between you two, you could finally appreciate the attractiveness of the man in front of you. He had the prettiest gray eyes that you could see your reflection in. He had beautiful inky hair that was styled in a way that made him look professional, not to mention, handsome. The bags under his eyes hinted that he was potentially an insomniac, but who were you to judge? You frequently partake in sleepless nights as well.

“You’re a good guy, Levi. I can see myself falling in love with you and your chivalrous charm. Though you’re still a stranger, I invited you into my home because you’ve gained some of my trust. Unlike the disgusting men i’ve talked to before, you still haven’t asked me where my bedroom is. You’re not pushing me to do anything I don’t want to, and frankly, you don’t bring me the slightest bit of discomfort. You also haven’t let me down tonight. Not once. You brought me water every time I almost finished my glass and you got me home when in my head I didn’t know how I was going to get there.”

He had the most grateful look in his eyes, like you had saved his life from an endless void. “Can I kiss you?” He asked in almost a whisper. Your heart went from relaxed to racing as soon as you heard the word ‘kiss.’ You were visibly nervous and Levi caught on instantly. “Is it too soon?” So many questions had been asked today yet none of them had your heart threatening to show itself like the last two.

“Do you really want to?” You asked obliviously, continuing the line of questions. “Yes, so badly.” He reassured.

You pulled him closer to you by the collar of his white dress shirt. His lips softly locked with yours, enveloping you with warmth internally and externally. There was no lust poured into this moment. It was a scene that demonstrated the mutual appreciation of two souls who thought love was not to be counted on. You could smell the deep scent of black tea on his lips as you brushed your lips out of his hold, only to be brought back for more.

His hand landed on your waist, bringing familiar goosebumps to your skin. You weren’t on earth anymore. You were roaming the clouds outside the gates of heaven. This innocent display of affection brought tears to your eyes, which rolled down your cheeks and left gray spots on your white shirt. Your hold on his collar loosened when you brought your right hand to his cheek, caressing it gently. Levi’s hands rode your sides up and down slowly over your shirt, wishing he could feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips.

You both pulled away slowly, looking into each other’s eyes with pure admiration. His thumbs instantly went below your lower lash line and cheeks to dry the tears that had escaped your eyes. “What’s wrong?” His eyes went soft as you held his hand in place. “I’m so damn deprived of affection. This is the first time i’ve kissed—touched someone and let them touch me like this in over two years.” You bring his hand to your lips and kiss the palm.

“I thought you and _____ were close.” You rolled your eyes internally at the thought of that guy. “We’ve never met. Today, uh…” You let out a weak chuckle. “…we were supposed to meet in person for the first time.”

Levi furrowed his eyebrows slightly in disgust and hatred for the man. “Nobody deserves you, Y/N. Not even me. You’re too good for people. Don’t let this guy place a value on your worth when he didn’t even bother to meet you. He’ll never know what it’s like to kiss your lips, or to inhale your debilitating scent. He missed out, and i’m glad he did. No offense.”

You chuckled at his sweet words. “You’re too kind, Levi.”

The conversation between you two continued for hours. It varied from what an ideal man would be for you and what an ideal woman would be for him, to what plans you both had for the future. You never thought you’d be sharing so much with a person that you met literally hours ago.

The night ended for you two at two in the morning. “Thank you for staying for so long, Levi. I appreciate the wholeness you brought to my house.” You walked behind him as you followed him to his car. “I’ll be using your number often, so don’t forget about me.” His hand found it’s way to your cheek again and shielded you against the cold wind. “You’re still not wearing a jacket, Y/N. Unbelievable.” He teased.

He opened the back right door of his car and brought out a forest green hoodie. “Put this on.” He requested, putting it in front of you. “No.” “Y/N.” “No.” “Y/N, please. For me?” You sighed, annoyed at the moment at his protectiveness. You slipped the hoodie on, it looked just slightly oversized on you. “Thank you. Now your turn.” You rolled your eyes playfully and muttered,“Thank you,” under your breath. “Huh? What was that?” “Thank you, gosh!” He chuckled as he pulled you into a hug. You could feel his shoulders shake which made you smile like an idiot.

“You look so cute, and now I have an excuse to come back. Whoops, I ‘forgot’ my hoodie.” “You’re a goofball.” You reply, planting a kiss on his cheek, then one on his forehead. “I should get going. If I don’t leave now, I’ll want to stay with you all night.” He kissed your forehead, the breeze cooling down the spot instantly. “Goodnight, Levi.” A gentle smile formed on your lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He got into his car and drove away until you couldn’t see the lights anymore.

I won’t smoke anymore cigarettes, Y/N. For your sake.

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

This is two parts because I got carried away. I wrote this on my phone and proof read as much as I could.

Warnings: cheating, male masturbation, m/f sex, minor spoilers for “Defending Jacob”.

——————————————————————————————

Plain Gold Ring

“Plain gold ring on his finger he wore

It was where everyone could see

He belonged to someone, but not me

On his hand was a plain gold ring”

-Nina Simone

When the Barbers moved to your building every old bitty in the place was buzzing with excitement. You had loosely followed Jacob Barber’s case as it played out on the evening news. The whole thing was bizarrely too neat and tidy for your liking. You tried to stay out of idle gossip as much as possible. But, when you heard Andy Barber was interviewing for a senior position at your firm, you had questions.

Andy was brought in to interview for a position that you were also interested in. You requested a meeting with your boss and you went in guns blazing. Your poor boss was not ready for all the excitement.

“Am I still being considered for junior partner?”

“Y/n, calm down.” When he saw you winding yourself up, he popped an antacid an a few ibuprofen.

“Calm down? Calm down he says. I’ve been with this firm since I clerked for you in Law school, Stan. I’m the best fit for this role and you know it.”

“I know you are, kid. I’ve been out voted.”

It’s common knowledge that the partners don’t want too many women gunning for their jobs. They already have one token female partner. They didn’t feel the need to add another. You were infuriated. You stomped back to your office and slammed the door.

All of the work you put in. All of the late nights. You don’t have time to even date. And all for what? You had to calm down now because you were starting to cry out of sheer frustration. You took a deep breath and started going through your to do list. With a relatively light schedule you decided to leave for the day. You mumbled something to your assistant about a doctors appointment and headed for the elevator.

You saw some of the senior partners headed your way shaking hands with Andy. You pressed the elevator button furiously trying to avoid them. Could you make it down seventeen flights of stairs in your stilettos? The elevator dinged and you jumped on just as Robert called your name.

As soon as you put your car in gear, your assistant called. You sent her to voicemail. She called again. Declined. Finally she texted call me back ASAP. Emergency. Fuck.

“Caitlan I said I had an appointment. What’s the emergency?”

“Sorry. Mr. Cramer insisted I call. He’s standing by my desk” she whispered. “They want you to have lunch with them today. Maybe it’s about the job.”

“Did you see guy shaking hands with them? That’s the new junior partner. They are asking me to lunch to reject me. Fuck! Where?” You rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Commander’s at 1:00.”

“Fine.” you groaned.

You went home to freshen up and send out your updated resume. You made sure to include “Willing to relocate” at the end to broaden your prospects. You had a friend in Chicago who worked for a very high profile firm. They were always looking for new blood. You shot her a text to let her know you were looking then emailed your resume. The prospect of starting over completely made you nauseous. You would have to go through the ranks and probably waist another five years to get exactly where you were right now.

When you arrived at the restaurant the maître d brought you to the table where Stan, several other senior partners and Andy were waiting. Andy stood up to pull out your chair.

“Gentleman. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Sit down, Y/N. We wanted to introduce you to Andrew Barber.”

“Andy. Please call me Andy. It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N. These guys haven’t stopped talking about you all morning.”

“All good things I hope.” The men laughed and ordered a round of martinis. Good thing you ate a big lunch at home. No one likes a sloppy drunk girl.

“Yes. Well, Y/N, as you may not know Andy has accepted the junior partner position. We would love if you brought him up to speed on anything you’re working on and show him the ropes.”

You were seething. “Of course Mr. Cramer. Happy to.”

“Oh. Good. Let’s order huh? I’m starving.”

You were silent for the rest of lunch ordering two more martinis very dry and a salad. Dressing on the side of course. The men spoke loudly and never even tried to include you in the conversation. You excused yourself to use the restroom. Andy, ever the gentleman, stood up at the same time.

You didn’t go back. Not that it would have mattered. You ordered an Uber and checked your email. You didn’t notice Andy at the valet stand.

“I’m headed back to the office. Need a ride?” he called to you.

“No. I’m good. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.” He watched you pace back and forth reading a message almost out loud.

You didn’t look up from your phone. “Shit.” You scowled looking at the screen. You dialed Caitlan’s extension. “Caitlan, Sloan Treadaway’s deposition was moved to today. I need it pushed to Monday.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I figured you would be coming back so I told them it was ok to push it up. I can call them back.”

“No. Don’t bother. I’m on my way back.”

“Looks like you can use a ride after all.” Andy was grinning from ear to ear.

He held the door and rushed around to the other side. You pulled a small bag out of your purse. You freshened your hair, popped some breath mints, lotioned and spritzed away the smell of booze. Andy thought this must be commonplace for you. It’s not easy trying to run with the guys. He could walk into this deposition piss drunk and most people wouldn’t care. You had to be perfect. He always hated that aspect of working in a big firm like this.

“Sorry. I’ll pay to have your car cleaned.” It smelled like you now. Expensive perfume and minty breath. Sweet but not sickly so. He inhaled letting his nostrils flair breathing you in. “Don’t want your wife to be pissed.”

“Lori? Don’t worry about her. She’ll understand.”

“How is she doing with her job search?”

“Doing ok. Thanks for asking. She’s interviewed with a few places.”

“She worked for a non profit right?” When he looked at you quizzically, you quickly explained yourself. “I hear things. Anyway. I know the director of a non profit organization that might be a great fit for her. I’ll pass along her information.”

“Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate it. Stan told me you were the front runner for this position. I know how hard it is for women in this industry. I want to say how sorry I am…”

“Let me stop you there. First of all, don’t be sorry. You’re high profile and a damn good litigator. They would be stupid not to offer you the moon. You’re over qualified for this job. You didn’t come here gunning for me. I’ll be fine. Besides, a few of these old bags have one foot in the grave. It won’t be long for me.”

Andy smiled at you but still kind of felt like shit at the way the firm treated you. When you pulled into the garage you offered a quick thanks and rushed into the building to prepare.

Andy stayed behind for a bit. He spent a few precious moments breathing in your scent, letting it linger and wash over him. He hoped his clothes would smell a little like you. Stan said you were a “fire cracker”. Andy always hated that analogy. He knew by the way the group of men talked about you that he would like you. Your quick banter in the car confirmed it. Throughout the rest of the day you would invade his thoughts. He and Lori were still married but their relationship was long over. You had excited him more in a couple of hours than she had in years. When he got home he didn’t eat dinner or speak to anyone. He went right to his room where he replayed your exchange over and over. The ghost of your perfume lingered on his shirt. Both of your scents mixed together gave him a raging hard on. He kept your shirt over his face while he fisted his cock.

——————————————————————

The next morning you decided to face the day with a fresher attitude. Sometime yesterday you heard from your friend. She was thrilled that you reached out to her. She has been trying to get you out there for a while. Knowing that you had a solid backup plan was giving your hair volume and clearing your skin.

You thought you were early but Andy was already in your office waiting for you.

“Morning, Mr. Barber.” God he loved how you said that.

He scoffed, “Andy. Please. I brought you a coffee. I hope it’s ok. I got your order from Caitlan. I thought we’d order in lunch today. We have a lot of ground to cover. You should probably let your family know you’ll be missing dinner.”

“I don’t think my dead ficus will worry too much.” Your tone was dry.

“I apologize for the assumption.”

“Not necessary. Though my mother and my therapist would both be pleased to know that I look like someone who could have a family.”

You were funny. You seemed to say whatever thought popped into your head. You had one hell of a poker face though. He didn’t know if you were trying to be funny or if this was just you. When you didn’t look up from your computer screen he didn’t laugh.

As the day wore on you warmed up to him a little. You filled him in on the three big cases you were working on. You were actually going to trial on a very important case soon. He insisted you rehearse your opening statement a hundred times.

During the third run through Andy’s phone was blowing up. He finally turned it off and told you to keep going. He watched you pace around the room and coached you on your stance. “Stand with authority not arrogance.” He chided. He showed you himself then, asked if he could touch your shoulders. “Round them out like this. Good. Back straight. See?” he pointed to your reflection in the window, “It’s not menacing or arrogant. But you look like you’re in charge. You look perfect.” Hell. Was he flirting with you? By the time you looked at the clock it was 9:30.

“Fuck is that the time?” he said with a boisterous yawn.

“Shit. We should pick this up tomorrow.”

“Let’s go get a drink. I’m buying.”

You quirked your eyebrow, “I’m sure your wife and kiddo are dying to see you.”

He stacked some folders neatly on your desk and looked up at you through his lashes, “I’ll be sure to tell my therapist that I look like a guy who has a happy marriage and a good relationship with his kid.”

Your cheeks heated. The way he was looking at you made you sad but it also warmed your insides. “I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. We said we would stay together until Jacob went away to school. He pretends to ignore the fact that we have separate bedrooms. We put on happy faces everyday. We’re a typical American family.”

You laughed at his admission. His whole story was so fucked up. You wanted to know everything about him. “You know, I think I will let you buy me a drink.”

“Good girl.” he said in a low voice that went strait to your core. The whole way to the car you repeated a mantra in your head reminding you not to get involved with a married man. It didn’t matter how unhappy they were. But you wanted him. Every time he touched you, your insides would quake.

The bar was packed with regulars from the DA’s office and other firms. You introduced Andy around. The guy was a legitimate pro. He was so smooth working the room. The whole time he kept finding small ways to touch you. The brush of his fingers on your arm his breath against your ear when he asked if wanted another drink. Your heart nearly stopped. You stuck with him for a while until your feet couldn’t stand anymore. Every time he caught your eye from across the room he winked at you.

For the first time in a long time Andy was enjoying himself. Your friends were fun and not at all stuffy like he thought this crowd would be. You were adorable. Your laugh was cute. The way you brushed against him on purpose was cute. You were openly flirting with him the more you drank. He had a massive crush on you. What grown man has a crush these days. He thought maybe if he fucked you and got it out of his system he’d get over it.

Your friend Liz sat down at your table trying to talk to you for a solid minute before you noticed. “Sorry. I was distracted. What were you saying?” She threw her head back laughing at you.

“I said you two would make a gorgeous couple.”

“Stop. He’s married.”

“Happily?”

“That doesn’t matter. Married is married.”

“So that’s a no. He’s been eye fucking you all night. Shoot your shot, darling. We get so few in this life.” The light hit his wedding ring just right making you feel horrible for even entertaining the thought. Do not get involved. You kept chanting it in your head over and over until Andy slid in the booth next to you. He leaned over so he could talk over the din of the crowd.

“Hey, you. Wanna get out of here?”

“You don’t need to bring me home, Andy. I can catch an Uber.” That was such a ridiculous statement since you lived in the same building.

“That’s not what I asked. I said do you wanna get out of here?” His eyes were fixed on your mouth. A salacious grin splayed across his lips just knowing you’d give in.

“Andy. I….” You stuttered over your words. Your brain stopped working when you felt his warm breath on the shell of your ear. “Let’s get out of here.” Your breath hitched in your chest when he touched the small of your back. He payed his tab and lead you out of the bar.

You held hands in the car. His thumb rhythmically traced patterns on your knuckles. Every touch sent bolts of arousal to your aching cunt. It felt electric. You were ready to crawl into his lap by the time you made it into the garage. He parked in his spot and followed behind you to the elevator. You lived two floors below him. You glanced back at Lori’s sensible suv next to his car and felt embarrassed. He caught you looking and stopped you in your tracks. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger forcing you to look at him.

“I understand if you don’t want to invite me in. I’m asking a lot of you. But I really like you, Y/N. You are funny and intimidatingly smart. And, fuck me, you are fucking stunning. I can go to work tomorrow like nothing happened. Don’t worry about Lori. Worry about what this means working together. Can you handle this?”

Your brain was no longer working and deferred to your pussy for any and all further decisions. You had not had even mediocre sex in six months. You just knew Andy was going to blow your mind. All day you have been working together so well. You challenged each other and he encouraged you when you faltered. Would this change the dynamic at work? Absolutely. Could you handle it? You’re damn right you could.

“I can handle it.”

“Good girl.” You all but sprinted to the elevator. He wouldn’t touch you until you actually got inside of your apartment and closed the door. When you did, he pushed against you and covered your lips with his.

You tasted the golden flavor of beer on his tongue as it probed your mouth. He unbuttoned your blouse and pushed it over your shoulders letting it hit the floor. He kissed his way down the column of your neck to the swell of your breasts. You panted underneath him raking your nails through his hair.

“God you smell incredible. At any point if you don’t want this….”

“Andy, shut up and fuck me.” He growled low in his throat before he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom. You could see how hard he was through his impeccably tailored slacks. You unzipped his fly and took the whole throbbing appendage in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby yes.” he hissed. You relaxed your throat muscles and swallowed him deeper. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” He moaned your name over and over soaking your panties. “Stop, honey. Let me see that pretty pussy.”

He eased you down onto the bed and undressed you painfully slow. It had been so long since he was intimate with someone, he wanted to take his time. He started with your feet removing your heels and massaging your insteps. His hands ran up the length of your legs to your skirt. He took off your panties first letting the skirt material pool around your waist. “So wet for me. So beautiful.” He slipped two fingers in between your folds hitting everywhere but your clit. He built up a tortuous rhythm that had you begging for relief. He smiled down at you watching completely fall apart. When he dipped his fingers inside of you, you were done. Your orgasm spilled out in one glorious cry. Before you could catch your breath he pulled off your skirt and unhooked your bra. His cock was weeping at the sight of you. A large hand held the back of your neck holding your head in place so you could look at him. Your eyes locked as he buried himself inside of you. There were no more words as he moved inside of you. Only breathless moans and sighs would escape your lips. He increased his pace and your orgasm started building again.

“Fuck. Andy, I’m….fuck!”

“I’m with you, honey. Come with me.” His words were your undoing. You latched your whole body onto him. He held you tight whispering praises in your ear. He kissed you slow and deep easing you back down to Earth. “You ok?”

“I think so.” You both laughed at the sight of yourselves. Sweat glistening off of your skin, lips puffy and kiss swollen. He eased off of you and rubbed your thighs to relax you. You thought he would get dressed and rush out but he crawled under the covers instead.

“Can I stay for a while?” Big arms pulled you down to his chest. He stroked your back softly to help you drift off to sleep.

“I’d like it if you did.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and let his eyes flutter closed.

When dawn found you a few hours later, you were still tangled with each other. You jolted awake panicking because Andy was still in your bed. “Andy, wake up. You stayed all night.”

“I know. What time is it?”

“6:45.”

“Then we have time. Go back to sleep.”

“But Lori…”

“I told you not to worry about her. Get back on this pillow and let me hold you. Please.” The poor guy was so touch starved you guessed. Andy Barber was not a man who did well being single. He loved being in love. He longed for a connection. For passion. He knew those things would sometimes fizzle out of a marriage. But, with you, he couldn’t see that. Your fire matched his fire and Lori was the wet blanket that always snuffed him out.

He supposed that wasn’t really fair. Two people were in their marriage. He worked long hours and spent very little time doing anything but being an ADA and being a dad. He didn’t give the same dedication to being Lori’s partner. The stress of this past year pushed them further apart. He felt obligated to be with her. It was his idea to stay together for Jacob’s sake. He regretted pushing for it.

He pulled you close to his body and wrapped an arm around your waist. He nuzzled your hair and fell back to sleep. You did too.

[waynewifey]

A dream of you and me—

soulmate!au

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: In a world where a dream means something more, trying to save the boy from your dreams can change your life.

Warnings: angst, crying

Words: 1900.

A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing feedback on my last fic! I’m sorry it took me so long to comeback, please remember that my requests are always open! I hope you like this.

I've always liked dreaming. It's the moment of the day where I'm taken to a random place with random people to live a priceless adventure. Tonight I dreamed with a boy. Well, I was the boy. We were running through the Hogwarts corridors, but somehow no one saw us. It was like we were invisible. We ran up to the bridge, staring at the moonlight. He was sad for an unknown reason, I could feel it. I saw his black locks blocking the vision when it winded. I've never seen his face before, but, somehow, he felt like... home. He let out a deep breath and I heard some footsteps approaching. Suddenly, the image became blurred. I let out a gasp, waking up. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, before opening my curtains, looking around and noticing it was still night. I got up and walked to the biggest window in the room. The moon looked exactly like the one in my dream. Maybe it is happening right now, I thought. But that was impossible. Well, not really impossible, more like improbable. The soulmate link was a very rare occasion. One would dream about the day or the moment the other were living for days or years, until they meet and recognise each other as soulmates. But they wouldn't see faces or hear voices, so that turned the meeting more difficult and rare. I've never met soulmates beside the ones in fantasy books.

The morning after, I woke up earlier than usual, as I could barely sleep. I got ready quickly and ran to the Great Hall. I was looking for someone who looked like they haven't slept properly, someone who may be up all night. But, to be honest, all seventh graders looked almost dead, thanks to the exams. A red head sat beside me, putting some books on the table.

"I have something to tell you." I immediately said.

"Not even a 'Good Morning'? Fine then. What is it?" Lily Evans replied. I rolled my eyes at her, beginning to speak.

"I dreamt with someone. I know it's rare but I really think it may be... that." She looked disinterested, picking her food. "Lily, I'm serious! It felt so real! And I could feel his feelings too! What should I do?"

"There's nothing to do yet, I guess. You'll have to keep dreaming and collecting clues. But maybe you could forget about it and help me with my charms assignments." She bit a piece of bread and I gave her an yellow smile. By the corner of the eye, I saw a group of boys approaching.

"Or you could ask your pain in the ass boyfriend." She scoffed, turning around and smiling at James Potter, whom were now sitting beside her, embracing her back with his arm and laughing loudly about something I didn't knew. Remus Lupin sat on my side, as usual. He was the only tolerable one in the group. He often helped me with my studies, but our relationship was very far from a friendship. Other two boys sat in front of us.

The day went by normally. Too many classes for my last two neurones. I was exited to go to my dorm and sleep, to test my theory.

I could see the dark sky and the Whomping Willow. A rat ran to the roots of the tree and pressed a small knot. The tree stoped moving. We dove into a hole next to it. After a long time walking inside of a tight tunnel, we arrived at the gardens of a house. The Shrinking Shack?! What is he doing here? We entered the house and walked to what looked like a living room. I watched as a gigantic creature approached. Some kind of wolf, but it was standing in two legs. It's arms were thin. It was looking a bit... tired? I analysed the beast carefully. A werewolf! Why was he around that monster? He was in danger!

I jumped out of  bed, running to get my robe and my wand. I left the dorms, running to the Castle Grounds. The wind was extremely cold, but I kept running. I searched for the knot on the Whomping Willow. After a few times being thrown in the air by the tree, I finally got to the secret hole. It seemed like it took me forever to get to the house. I heard a howl and a growl, which made me desperate to find my soulmate. Would he even be alive by now? I came across a bizarre scene. A werewolf, a huge black dog, a stag and a mouse – the mouse in my dreams – all laying on the floor. The werewolf turned its head to me, growling at me. The dog jumped, getting in front of me. Where was my soulmate? The werewolf tried to attack me, but the stag got on its way. They were protecting me? Why? The dog barked at me, getting my attention. He ran to the exit door, turning his head back at me, as if he were calling me. I followed him. I ran to the gardens, but the dog was gone. Suddenly, a boy came out of behind a tree, wearing a black fur robe. I annalized his face in the moonlight. I recognised his black locks from my dreams. Sirius Black.

"What are you doing here? You need to go back to the castle right now." He said, eyes not focusing on me and ears on alert, still taking care of whatever was happening in the house.

"What are YOU doing here?! Did you know that is not a regular wolf, but a werewolf?! And if it bites you-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now, you. Leave." He cut my speech, making me roll my eyes.

"I can't let you die! Every night I have these dreams, you're always getting yourself in trouble and-"

"You dream with me? You saw Moony?"

"Yes, Black, keep track. Stop interrupting me. Wait, who's Moony?" Sirius looked around, getting closer and lowering his voice, like he was about to tell me a secret.

"Remus Lupin. He's a werewolf. The stag is James Potter. I'm not sure if you've seen it, but the rat is Peter Pettigrew and... I'm the dog. Yeah, yeah, woof. We're animagus. Remus is under control... well, kind of. But it's still not safe for you and I need to take you back to the castle." I was stunned when he grabbed me by the elbow and made me walk all the way back. My thoughts wouldn't process, my mind was a mess.

"You're supposed to drink the tea, not stare at it, you know?" Sirius said, his voice echoing in the empty common room. I blinked for the first time in a while. I took a last look at my teacup, glancing upwards. I stared at his obsidian orbits, frowning my eyebrows trying to figure out what to say. Sirius Black was my soulmate. This guy I've never really talked to before, whom I know practically nothing about, and now I discover he's an illegal animagus, friends with a werewolf and will probably reject me so badly the angels will pity and and let me escape from hell. Because I made it quite obvious by telling him about my dreams, and he ignored it.

"I dreamt about you, you know what this means, right?" I couldn't keep the eye contact for long and quickly went back to staring at my tea. I moved in the couch to a more closed posture.

"Yeah, I understand it just fine." He said. I couldn't figure out his emotions by the tone of his voice, so I looked at him. His expression was as neutral as his tone, not helping me at all.

"Oh, okay. I wasn't expecting this." I rested my cup on the coffee table in front of us, getting up. I felt a slight spark of anger inside of me, starting to burn everything. He scoffed, leaning back on the chair. "Well I don't like that either! It's just- It seems unfair to condemn me to literal hell just because you're not happy about me being your soulmate!" The words bursted out of my mouth without a previous warning, tears forming in my eyes. I had waited for so long to see if I had a soulmate and he just scorn me like that? "I'm sorry if I'm not what you expected, but this isn't my fault!" I blubbered, gathering all the small amount strength that kept me on foot to turn around and walk away. But before I could do so, his arms embraced me in a harm and desperate hug. The smell of his hair made me dizzy, and I could honestly live there.

"I never believed in this. I never thought fate would bring someone to keep company to a person like me but- seeing you cry made my heart ache... So please stay. I don't care if we're soulmates or not, I just... need you here."

Epilogue — 3 years later.

I finished mixing the coffee and placed it at the silver tray. I took a final look: scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, and bangers — it all looked delicious. Not the kind of thing I was used to do, but I definitely am good at it. I walked to our room and opened the door. He was in the same place he was when I left earlier: the bed. I put the tray on the nightstand, preparing myself to wake him up. I sat beside him, staring at his unique features. The sunlight coming through the curtains lightened his nude torso and I got myself admiring his skin.

“Breakfast in bed? Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?” His husky morning voice, massaged my ears. “Fiancée, actually.”

“Well, I thought this was a great way to celebrate your first day of work and our three year anniversary.” I kissed the top of his head as my hands danced around on his curls. “But don’t get used to it, you’re the cooker in this relationship.”

“I love you, Y/N L/N Black.” I stared down at his face. The same face of the boy I fell in love with, a long time ago, and I remembered the first time we kissed through sobs and hugs. This was when I realised I loved Sirius Black more than anything in the world and I knew we were forever. I smiled at him and kissed him passionately.

“I love you too.” He smiled widely at me and pulled me to under the sheets, throwing my apron across the room. “You’ll be late, Siri.” Sirius rolled his eyes at me and got on top of me.

“I have more important matters to deal with right now.”

[tojismaiden]

sketch | levi ackerman x reader

WARNING: none. just fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

prompt: after finding out you did sketches as a hobby, levi decided to challenge you and asked you to sketch someone you hadn't met before.

NOTE: this is based on the eren fan art that i saw but i forgot whoever it was that posted it and i thought of doing one for levi.

The Survey Corps were aware that your father was an artist. One that could sketch someone and something with perfect accuracy and sometimes even sketching someone and something that he hadn't seen before and based it upon someone's description of them. Your dad had somehow passed this knowledge to you before he died on the fall of Shiganshina and ever since then, you had secretly taken up sketching as a hobby— one that you would do whenever you were down, stressed, or just wanting peace.

However, you weren't exactly slick enough as you sat yourself down against a tree because soon or later, Sasha had seen you and your drawing and begged you to draw her a picture of a freshly cooked steak. Connie somehow heard the commotion and asked if you could draw something you hadn't seen before to which you said yes and kindly asked you to draw a picture of his hometown.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Jean soon followed and all were amazed by your accurate sketching skills and how fast you would make them.

The commotion would soon draw the attention of one Captain Levi who looked at the group annoyingly mainly because they still weren't done with their chores. He hated seeing people slacking and wasting their time.

He would step out of the cottage and began walking towards the group.

"Oi, you brats!" His strict voice would immediately shut up the group, making them stand straight and look back at the Captain.

"What the hell are you all doing out here? You're not even finished with your chores, the cottage still looks and smells like shit."

"We're sorry, Captain, we just got distracted." Eren would say and gulped, fearing what Levi would do as a punishment for slacking off.

"Yeah, Captain, but look! Y/N here is so talented? Remember when she once told us that her dad was a sketch artist? She could do it too and look what she drew for us!" Sasha beamed and showed the drawing you had made for them causing you to smile sheepishly and looked up at Levi.

You were currently injured after you had twisted your ankle when you fell off a horse so Levi decided to be kind enough to let you off the hook and heal while the others did your portion of the chore.

Levi looked down, the infamous stoic expression plastered on his face as he looked at the rather intricate and impressive details of your sketches.

"Look, Captain! She even drew my hometown and she hasn't been there before. She just drew it based on my description but she got it all right!" Connie would add and showed him your sketch of Ragako. Connie's words somehow got his attention and Levi looked down to look closely at the drawing before pulling away.

"Tch! You slacked off of chores for some sketches? Thought you brats did better than that by now. Go back inside and clean!" Levi barked causing the group to put their fists on their chest by their hearts and saluted Levi before running back inside the cottage.

"I'm sorry about that, Captain. I didn't mean for them to slack off." You'd eventually say and stood up carefully from the ground after gathering your sketchbook and pencil with your crutch, "I was about to send them back but they were far too excited with my drawings."

Levi was silent for a while. His back was turned to you as he watched, from afar, his squad going back inside the cottage to continue busying themselves.

"Springer said that you could draw things that you haven't seen before?" He would ask and you would nod in response.

"I-I... I guess? My dad taught me how to do it when I was young. He used to do it all the time." You'd reply. Levi hummed in response before turning his head back to look at you.

"I suppose the same applies to people you hadn't met before?"

You hummed in response and nodded again.

"Yes, Captain. I've done it before."

Levi nodded and put his hands inside the pockets of his pants before he nodded over to the cottage.

"You can walk, right? Come to my office, I have a task for you. But don't ever speak to anyone about this. Do I make myself clear?" His words caused you to nod vigorously, fearing what type of punishment you would deal with if ever you even spoke about this to any living soul.

"Y-Yes, Captain!"

"Good. Now let's get going because once Hange gets back, I won't have the time to do this."

And with that, you followed Levi back to the cottage but since the group had been busy with their chores, they didn't pay you any mind and only thought you were going with Levi to discuss some things about your next move, knowing that you won't have to stay here for long.

Once you entered, Levi gestured to the chair in front of his desk before he closed the door and walked over, sitting himself down on his chair.

"Not sure if I could still remember but I'll do my best. You're going to draw a woman." Levi started, causing to scramble and flip your sketch book open to a completely clean blank page.

"She's fairly young. Around her late twenties or early thirties. She has long black hair. Straight, parting in the middle." He would say, all while staring off in the distace as you nodded and sketched your way to his description of this woman that he speaks of.

You didn't know who it was that he was describing. And a part of you doubts it would be his lover. Levi didn't seem like the type to fall in love with his comrades or even has the time to engage himself in such a thing especially when humanity is at the mercy of those man-eating Titans.

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you decided to focus more on Levi's words.

"Her face is heart shaped. Eye brows are a bit thin. Straight, slightly upturned nose. Narrow, grey eyes. Small but full lips."

You took note of what this woman looked like and the more you sketched her, the more you realized this woman looked a lot like Levi except for the fact that she looks much softer compared to him. Unlike Levi, this woman had a soft stare despite her narrow eyes. She wasn't at all emotionless and frowning. You thought it would best suit her if she was smiling just a tad bit. Your instincts told you so.

"Give her a white dress. Smock."

You'd nod and followed Levi's instructions as you went ahead and gave her a smock dress that looked so fitting for her. Silently, you hoped you gave Levi what he was asking for. You didn't know who this woman was but deep inside you knew she must have been someone who was very important to him.

You were now putting in shades onto your sketch, making sure the woman in your drawing looked flawless as possible. It was so bizarre that she looks so much like Levi. It was like Levi himself in a girl's clothing and his hair longer but without the undercut he usually sported.

Once you were done, you carefully stood up and gently place your sketch book onto his desk face down so he could turn it over himself once you sat down.

"Did I get it right, Captain?" You asked, watching him as he turned the sketch book over, his eyes widening slightly as a breath escaped from his lips.

You'd watch as Levi brushed his fingers against the paper, as if he was trying to memorize every part, every crevice of your drawing of this woman. You noticed how his eyes looked rather... soft for one moment before he realized he wasn't alone in this room.

"I hope you don't mind." He'd say and went ahead to carefully cut the drawing from your sketchbook with a cutter. For he didn't want to risk ripping it.

"By all means, go right ahead." You'd say.

"You captured her perfectly." Levi said, his gaze never leaving the drawing, "I remember her wearing a dress like this. It was white but since the Underground was as dirty as a rat's home, the dress turned dirty grey."

You stayed silent as he spoke, nodding slowly at his story.

"If you don't mind me asking, Captain, but... who did I just drew?"

Levi was silent for a while before he set the drawing aside and pushed your sketchbook carefully back to you.

"She's my mother. Her name was Kuchel. She died because of some kind of disease and maybe starvation."

His words left you speechless for a moment that your eyes widened for a bit before you nodded slowly.

"She's beautiful."

"Yeah. She was. She was a prostitute in the Underground so you could imagine how it was living there. But she did her best for as long as she could."

"She must be proud of you. Being humanity's strongest soldier after all."

Levi scoffed and looked as if he was trying to fight off a chuckle, "She'd have my head is more accurate. If she was here, she would have never let me joined the Survey Corps. And if she found out that I did, I'd have an earful with the woman."

You'd chuckle, "Mothers are like that, I guess. Doesn't matter how old you are. You'd still be their kid."

Levi nodded slowly before he stood up from his chair and leaned against his desk.

"Okay, brat. Enough with the chit-chat. Go back with the others and rest up. We don't need dead weight for when we make our move, won't be long 'till we have to get going."

You nodded, taking note of Levi putting up his walls again though you already knew it would eventually happen considering this man wasn't the most approachable person in the world.

"Yes, Captain." You'd say and grabbed your sketchbook from the his hand before you held on to your crutch.

"And, Y/N?" You lifted your head up to look at him.

"Thank you. It's been years since I last saw my mother and I feared I may have forgotten what she looked like. I only ever saw her in my memories, in my dreams. This is the first time I talked about her since she died. So, uh... thank you."

You smiled softly and nodded your head.

"You're welcome, Captain. I'm glad I drew her accurately."

"I should ask you to draw someone for me again. But that's a story for another time."

"May I ask who it is though?"

Levi paused and gulped.

"They were my comrades. They were with me when I first joined here. They were with me when I was in the Underground."

Your mouth formed a small 'O' before you hummed in response.

"Alright, enough talk. Get out of here, brat, I got shit to do." Levi would say before you nodded and went on your way and closed the door behind you, making your way back to the group where they began to bombard you with questions as to why you were in Levi's office, to which you lied and answered that you were discussing what the next move would be.

They bought it, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Levi smiled slightly down at your sketch of his Mom.

"You still look beautiful as ever, Ma."

[we-have-bangtan]

I know i wrote about Yoongi experiencing y/n’s death but what if Yoongi WAS death?

prompt from @btswritingprompts ‘s blog <3

prompt: you die and death appears before you to take you to the afterlife. You expect a dark and cruel creature, like they tell of on earth but he’s actually..... a dork. He’s a pale, skinny kid with dark hair falling into his eyes, wearing jeans and a hoodie.

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

She looked up at Death, he looked surprisingly different from what she had expected. There was no cloak covering his face or a large scythe in hand, no dark skin and eyes that looked like burning coals. He wasn’t old by any means, he was almost the same age as her. He was pale and skinny, dark hair falling into his droopy eyes, he looked tired and sleepy and she had the urge to ask him if he ever got to rest at all.                

   Death noticed the girl eyeing his clothes, a black slam dunk hoodie and ripped black jeans, she was clearly judging him. “It’s dress down Friday, don’t judge me” he grumbled, the girl seemed the least bit freaked out about her own death, “are you just going to judge me? no crying or anything?” he asked cautiously, she simply shook her head, no crying, she had come to terms with her death long ago.    

“come on then, I’ll guide you to the afterlife” he said, holding his had out to her. She took his hand as they started walking, she paid close attention to her surroundings, glass walls surrounded her, displaying what had happened just a few moments ago before she had lost her life, “how do you get to the afterlife?” she asked as she followed after him. “you go backwards in life till you reach the afterlife because the afterlife and the beforelife are the same” he explained as they went through what the girl had done yesterday, nothing special, just puking her guts out in the hospital, “why are you not freaking out?” Death asked starting to get a little worried, “because this is what i wanted for a long time now, they can live in peace now” she answered as they walked on.

“how long does it take to reach the afterlife?” she questioned, “how old are you?” he asked, “20″ she replied, “wow your young, it’ll take 20 days to reach the afterlife, one day for every year you have lived” he mumbled as they passed through more days of her being sick, some days in the hospital, some days at home, didn’t matter, she was sick. “are you sure you’re not gonna cry, i was hoping to get a front row seat to some crying and sobbing” he asked again, she punched him.    

“is that why you took this job? so you can see people crying and sobbing over their own dead bodies?” she asked, “precisely” Death admitted before asking her another question, “how long have you been sick?” , they had passed more than half a year and she was still sick, either in bed or on the floor. “ a little over an year” she answered as she looked at herself, struggling to eat and sleep or even breath sometimes, “you almost died here you know” he said, pointing to when she had woken up from her sleep due to a nightmare, “you were the stubbornest soul us grim reapers have worked with, after Jesus ofcourse” he informed, “you simply refused to die, you’re very popular among the grim reapers” he added as nightfall came on the path. “rest child” he instructed, stopping at a street corner so she could stay still for a moment as he finished the paperwork for her soul.

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

  Soul Fill Form

Name: Y/n

age: 20

Gender : F

Cause of death: Sickness

Day: Friday

Delivering soul to: reaper’s club for wannabe reapers

Name of Reaper delivering: Min Yoongi (death)

Reaper no.: 090393

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

They rested for a while more before starting on their journey to the next year, the last three month were the same, sickness and pain edged themselves into her life, “how did you end up a reaper?” she asked, “career counselling” he shrugged as they kept walking. He snorted when he saw her splash a glass of lemonade at someone, this was a few months before she had started to get sick, she had clearly had a happy life before she had gotten sick, plenty of friends and loving family members but she didn’t react to them.            

“bruh you're hella weird” he said out loud looking at her having a loudest fart competition with her brother, “it was a phase ok” she grumbled, “i doubt people go through phases at 19″ he laughed as they moved on stopping at where she had her first kiss, “ewww, i don’t want to see that” he protested but she still dragged him to watch her making out with a random dude, “was he good?” Death asked as they moved on, he had refused to watch the porno the random dude and her had reenacted. “pretty good” she shrugged as they moved on, they stopped in between for pocky sticks from a stall run by Seokjin who seemed to be familiar with Death because he delivered a few choice insults before handing them pocky sticks and tangerines to enjoy on their journey.      

“where do you think ghouls send their post?” he asked randomly on day 5, she shrugged, “the ghost office” he laughed, she scoffed at his bad sense of humor, “Seokjin taught you that didn’t he?” she asked, he nodded admitting that he himself didn’t enjoy those jokes much.  

 The days started to drag on from day 7, they still had 13 days to go and in those 13 days, Death behaved like a dear friend, he rambled on about what he did before he died, his interests and career before he had been killed in a car crash, he had explained all that when she had noticed the needle scars on her arms and the scars underneath her dress where she had been operated on. He had showed her the scars on his palms, faded with time but they were still there, a little bump on his gentle touch.  

       Apparently the scars would remain as a reminder of how they had died, at least one of them would change into a birthmark when they were reborn, “how many times were you reborn?” she asked him, curiosity poking at her, “never, i didn’t want to be born again and experience all that again, they give you a choice, you can choose if you’d want to be reborn or not” he explained as they walked through when she was 11 years old, “you were a cute 11 year old” he observed looking at her chubby cheeks and the ribbons in her hair. She just grinned at his observation.  

He found her endearing, her constant babbling and the way she treated him. Her heart shaped lips and pink tinted cheeks. She was lovable and he found himself getting more and more attached to her, she was no longer just another soul, she was Y/n, the soul of a perfect human. She’d be a great reaper he reckoned, she’d be able to calm and console souls who had passed with lots of matters to settle.        

      The closer they go to the afterlife the more questions Y/n had, she’d bug him again and again, asking the most bizarre ones he had ever encountered. She asked about the people who he had escorted, anyone famous?, how many reapers were there? could she become a reaper? would she see him again? would she see other reapers as well?

They reached the gates of the afterlife/beforelife soon enough and Death handed the guard her form before taking her hands in his, “be good, don’t give them a hard time, I’ll come to get you once your training is done, that is incase you decide not to be reborn, even then I’ll still see you soon, even though you’d have to wait a few years before you can see me like that” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “stay strong Y/n” he whispered, pressing another kiss to her forehead before pulling away from her, “good bye Death” she said making him pause, “it’s Yoongi now, not Death, Yoongi” he told her, letting go of her hands, “Yoongi,” she whispered, his name sounding like a sweet melody on her tongue, “good bye, i’ll see you soon” she mumbled as the guard opened the heavy metal gates, waiting for her to pass through.

    They held on to each other till they couldn’t anymore. Death watched on as his beloved walk through the gates into the afterlife, satisfied that he would see her again soon enough.    

            Y/n followed the guard to a well lit room in which a tall man in a striking blazer was seated, “hello, welcome to the afterlife, I am Namjoon the career counselor” he introduced as the guard placed her paperwork in front of him, he went through the papers before pausing at the last sheet, he smiled at Yoongi’s messy scrawl that he called a handwriting

 “ GO EASY ON HER FOR ME <3  - Yoongi/Death“

__________________________________________

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Dracula/Zoe- 68!

68. You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.

Ooh, excellent choice for Drac. Loads of pun opportunities. Ha, okay. I tried to keep this short as possible, but my intentions were thwarted by them wanting to be snarky bitches to each other for too long, alas. Bonus for you, extra time and effort for me. Enjoy ;) Backstory equivalent to my fic, if that’s easiest

Words Count: 1145

Rating: I’m going to say right on the EDGE of an M rating

Prompt list can be found HERE

Turning the knob to end the steady stream of hot water pouring into her bathtub, Zoe was prepared to shed her dressing gown up until she heard a suspicious rustling, followed by the sound of footsteps from elsewhere in her flat. It was times like this she really wished she had a cat to blame these things on - confronting a burglar was not high on the list of things she felt like doing tonight. Though frankly, if all they were doing was shuffling through her pantry, she was tempted to let them.

Heaving a sigh, she tightened the knot around her waist and moved quietly down the hallway, only to quickly see the tall and distinctive form of a 500 year old war lord standing in the middle of her kitchen with a look of baffled confusion on his face.

“You know, just because you can enter a home without invitation doesn’t mean you should,” the doctor scoffed wryly, her stance losing some of its tension.

“What in screaming hell are ‘potato flakes’ and why do you own them?”

“Because I’m a shite cook,” she defended flatly, and approached him just to grab the box he was studying with growing concern out of his hand, and toss it back onto the counter. It was only then did Dracula give her a true once over, dark eyes lingering over the thin material of her robe, causing her to cross her arms over her chest.

“Now what are you doing here? It’s late, I was about to have a bath.”

“Lucky me,” he self-congratulated, and was quickly met with a glare. Finally he rose his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was bored.”

“Aren’t there other people you can harass, I just finally got home.”

“The city has been remarkably dead, and not in the fun way, so no not really.”

Suddenly the Count stepped closer, and Zoe forced herself to stand steady and look up at him as opposed to scurrying back, as she was almost certain he wanted her to. If he was looking for someone to frighten, he had really come to the wrong place. There was a foreign intensity in his gaze, though, that wasn’t of the bloodthirsty sort she was used to, and it made her fight not to squirm in the face of it.

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in,” he remarked with a growing smirk.

Her eyes rolled. “We both know you’re not going to try to feed from me, it never exactly works out in your favor. If you’re hungry-”

“I’m not,” he corrected quickly, before she could even finish.

Her mouth shut as quickly as it had opened, subtle realization dawning on her features, followed by a stifled laugh.

“Is that really your line right now?”

He lifted an innocent brow. “Is that a refusal?”

“I...wasn’t aware the 15th century was so ‘nontraditional’,” she couldn’t help but comment, curiously.

“Oh it wasn’t.”

It was her turn to lift a brow. “So this is an experiment. I see. Well, in that case, don’t let me keep you from finding another willing participant.”

He glanced upright at the ceiling, as though in consideration tracing his lips with his fingers in a rudely distracting gesture of thoughtfulness.

“Hm. No, see I’m not sure anyone else would be as forthright as you are.”

“Hm, no I see your problem. I would take great joy in telling you that you’re terrible at anything,” she agreed, mostly just for the sake of mockery.

“Knowledge of the scientific method would of course be ideal,” he added, advancing on her further, and she finally felt the need to take half a step back, only to feel the kitchen counter pressing into her backside.

“Seems a bit much, I think,” she corrected flatly, though hadn’t exactly made a move to leave either. Whether it was morbid curiosity or a three year dry spell holding her in place, she couldn’t be sure. Bizarre amusement?

“Perhaps, but ‘a bit much’ is sort of my area.”

“I deeply regret introducing you to the internet,” she sighed, finally breaking eye contact with him just to roll her eyes skyward.

“You still haven’t said no,” Dracula observed keenly, gently cupping her chin and urging her gaze back to him, breaching physical contact with surprising subtlety.

“Must be the razor sharp fangs and the sedative saliva,” she made a point of sarcastically emphasizing, doing her best to ignore his fingers as they trailed down her throat slowly.

“Oh that only happens when I want it to, Zoe.” He paused as she rose her brows in disbelief. “Okay, and when there’s an excess of human blood. Irrelevant. You’re practically undead, you’ll survive. I can’t say the same for anyone else-”

“Fucking hell, at least it’d stop you from talking,” she snapped, though before she could move to regret her consent, the Count’s mouth had already crashed against hers, and she found herself sitting atop the counter that had previously been at her back, so quickly she almost felt dizzy.

Her nails dug into his shoulders for support on her new perch, though they worked beneath the strain with utter indifference, shifting under her grip as his hands ran up her thighs under the quickly separating fabric of her dressing gown, urging them apart so he could stand between them, pulling her forward against his still be-suited form. His tongue was, much to her annoyance, already doing some rather impressive things as it invaded her mouth and curled against her own. She pulled back, though, just as one of his hands cupped her centre, with a bite of his lip. The soft growl that erupted from him in response was almost hilarious.

“Foreplay is cheating, if you’re running a proper assessment,” she corrected with a breathy attempt at sounding stern, a tone borne of academia and apparently hitting its mark regardless of her debauched appearance.

He looked for a moment like he would protest, but it faded into a strange sort of obedience just as quickly, his only move of defiance coming as he stroked his hand down the length of her exposed sternum and sliced the tie of her dressing gown with his thumb nail, splitting it in two and getting it out of his way entirely.  

“As you were, Dr. Helsing,” he agreed roughly, and she watched him sink onto his knees before her in what was probably the most fascinating sight she’d ever beheld.

“I’m banking on this being a disappointment,” she challenged stubbornly, even as she felt him approach with baited breath, unable to resist a last jab even as she felt his lips brush against her mound with mocking lightness.

“Place your bets wisely,” were the finally words she had to hear from him for quite a long while.

--------

Tag List: @hoefordarkness @allis143 @festering-queen @lets-talk-about-claes-baby @river-soul @dracula-s-bride @vanhelssing @punk-courtesan @gabesprincess @skeletalremainswithinme @chelsfic @alma37 @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @camille-stark @leah-halliwell92 @bang-and-a-blintz @chrsitophwaltz @carydorse @lady-of-the-wolves @charlesdances @crazytxgradstudent @imagineandimagine @my-fanfic-library @angielandon @onyxthevampire @serindiyoza @kandomeresbitch @bellamortislife @fuukonomiko @hyacinth-meadow @guardianbelle @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @claesbangme @draculaclaes @girlonfireice @pullthedamnlever @lamourcommecesttoujour  @hopipollahorror @jangleprojet @hiphop-gir @ss9slb @littlemessyjessi @flyingleapdisco @le-fay-87 @crowley-needs-a-hug @bloodspatteredprincess @malkaviangirl @mitsukatsu @katwoman06 @tanja2306 @myst-l-vie @gatissed @mood-adlock @gettingcrazyforlife @drsherlockmoffat @alhoyin @xis23 @dreamer2381 @profiler-in-courage @garlicbreakfast @the-sign-of-tea @rheabalaur @ombradellaluna @feralstare

I’m sure there’s more of you, but spread it around, my dears, if you like. Requests still open, time constraints apply, for various fandoms. Ta.

[krixel]

So, I’ve had a horrendous fucking week (family, am I right?) and I have, admittedly, had more than one glass of Scotch to drink (family, am I right?) but I was doing a dive into my old Beyblade Tala/Trey WIPs, which were written entirely for me because I’d never ever considered the thought of coming back to posting fanfiction, let alone Tala/OC fanfiction - that joke is forever on me but GLU is my trope riddled passion project baby that you can pry from my cold dead hands - and I’d forgotten about this bizarre Tala has a twin, whose identity he stole, government experiment mess of an AU that I still love.

So yeah, here’s the less than 2,000 words start of that story, because why not? So, if you’re at all interested in another Tala/Trey AU where they’re established and Tala has a twin... here it is. Also, my writing is rough, because it’s from 3 years ago, and I wrote it on my phone while I was making dinner.

The door opened once the stairs had been secured, and the ball of tension that had started in his stomach crawled up Kai’s throat. There was only a single passenger on the private jet, and the afternoon sun gleamed against his blond hair as he emerged. A laptop bag was slung across his body and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase. Kai would never get used to seeing him; a grownup version of a past ghost. Kai pushed off the hood of his Mercedes and moved to meet the newcomer as he reached the tarmac. Blue eyes - hollow and colder than the snow that fell around them - gave him a once over before he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Kai. I see my brother still has you running his errands like a good dog.”

“Mikaela. I see time has done nothing to improve your charm,” Kai said, resisting the urge to scold the other for his casual use of his relationship with Tala.

“Forgive me. Unlike others, I cannot put on a false face when looking at one of the people who ruined my life,” Mikaela said, striding past Kai and towards the awaiting car.

Kai rolled his eyes but followed the other to the car. He popped the trunk but did not offer to put away Mikaela’s luggage. His unwelcome guest took the hint and did it himself. He climbed into the passenger seat, and Kai was hitting the gas almost before the door closed. “We did give you a choice,” Kai said after a while. “You chose to keep breathing.”

Mikaela huffed, the sound brushing against amusement, and eyed Kai from his peripheral. “I have always been curious, Kai. In all these years, other than the one obvious crime, you seem to be a decent sort of person. How do you stomach calling a monster like my brother friend?”

Kai’s knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but his tone was a notch above boredom. “Tala is my best friend,” he said. “And if I have ever given you the impression that I was decent, then I apologize. Tala was the one who wanted to let you live. I told him it was smarter to kill you. You're a liability.”

“How quaint, after all, was I not Tala, once upon a time?”

“Not in any of the ways that matter,” Kai said.

Mikaela clicked his tongue but said nothing else for the remainder of the drive, just propped his chin on his fist and watched the once familiar city pass by the window. As Kai pulled into the underground parking for Tala’s building, Mikaela tensed, gloved hands curling into fists at the pressing darkness. Kai scoffed as he shut off the car. “Relax, Mikaela,” he said. “You're the one who wanted an in-person meeting, so don't act like we're going to drag you out back and shoot you.”

“Given past experience, can you blame me?” Mikaela asked as he pushed open the car door, hiding his relief at finding it unlocked.

Kai shrugged and tucked his hands in his pockets as he waited for the other to retrieve his suitcase. “Like I said, you’re the one who wanted to be here.”

“Wanted is an exceptionally powerful word. I was put in a situation that was unsafe to express by any other means,” Mikaela said. He popped the handle on his suitcase and followed Kai to the side door of the building. A man with a buzz cut and arms the size of tree trunks opened the door for them, acknowledging Kai with a grunt and frowning at Mikaela.

Kai returned the nod, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Leave him be for now. Tala will let you know if that changes.”

Mikaela bristled at the threat but under the brutal look from the guard - more like ex-military or grizzly bear fighter - kept his mouth shut. As Kai cleared both the retinal scanner and fingerprint, Mikaela lifted an eyebrow. “A bit paranoid, isn't he?”

“Can't imagine why?” Was the dry response as Kai turned his key and the elevator finally started its ascent.

Despite the massive height of the building, the elevator ride was quick and silent, and Mikaela’s lip curled in disgust at the lavish foyer beyond the wrought iron gate. Kai unlocked it and pushed it aside, then motioned Mikaela out first before he followed. Mikaela towed off his boots by the door, but made no effort to remove his jacket or scarf. Kai patted him on the shoulder as he walked by, his smile just the dull side of vicious. “Island life thin your Russian blood? Or are you not planning to stay long?”

“He won't be staying long.” Tala stepped out of the living room, the sound of the tv still audible in the openess of his penthouse, and stood with a hand braced on his hip. “Hello, Mika.”

Blue eyes clashed, one pair narrowing while the other glittered with deceptive amusement. Mikaela fought down a snarl, but his expression remained blank. If he let Tala rile him so soon, they would get nowhere. “Yuriy.” Mikaela looked around their surroundings before his attention returned to the redhead. “It looks like you are doing well for yourself.”

Tala’s smile sharpened against the whetstone of the taunt. “You act like I don't share it with you,” he said. “Or is there something you want that I haven't given you?”

“What I want cannot be bought, no matter how much wealth you accumulate,” Mika said.

Tala shrugged. “I better not have flown you all the way here just to rehash your grievances against me, Mika,” he said. “Getting you back into the country undetected wasn't easy.”

“I wasn't aware I existed, as far as anyone else was concerned.”

Before the rising tension could escalate further another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the living room. Trey came around the corner, eyes flicking towards Kai, then the newcomer, and then back to Kai. “Damn. I thought you left to get pizza,” she said. “Is that even a thing here? You guys do have pizza in Russia, right? Oh my god, if not I need to go home, right now.”

Tala snorted at his girlfriend, his shoulders easing despite the proximity of Mika, and Kai resisted the urge to hug Trey for her brilliance. There was no way she'd missed the rising threat in the foyer, but she diffused Tala with the expertise of a bomb unit. She moved to Tala’s side, tucking herself under his arm and against his side. “Why do all of your friends look like they walked off magazine covers? Seriously?”

“We are not friends,” Mika said, eyes surveying Trey with confusion. He was the dirty little secret Tala kept locked far away from him, and yet Tala did not seem at all concerned about the girl’s presence.

“Co-worker? Arch nemesis? Is that still a thing?”

“Twin brother, though I suppose arch nemesis isn't entirely out of the question,” Tala cut her off.

Even Kai’s eyebrows lifted at Tala’s casual admittance to Mika’s identity. Trey blinked, and waited for the punchline, though as she looked closer it was impossible to deny the resemblance - really it came down to Tala’s ridiculous hair. And then with the horror of someone who has just realized they left their child at a store, said, “You mean there's two of you in the world?”

“It's still up for debate which one is the evil one,” Kai said, as he shrugged out of his jacket.

“You knew?” Trey asked, then frowned at the obvious question. “Of course you knew. You just picked him up from the airport.”

Tala smiled as Trey devolved into her nervous rambling, and tightened his arm around her. “Why don’t you go spend some time with Kai while Mika and I catch up?”

Trey blinked at the obvious dismissal, but nodded. Tala tended to tell her the truth, so if he wanted her gone for that conversation then he had good reason. Trey lifted on her toes and Tala tilted his head down to meet her kiss. He lifted his arm and Trey shuffled away from him, sparing a glance for Mika. “Um… nice to meet you?” Mika stared at her without expression and said nothing. “Right, or not, I guess.”

Tala’s eyes narrowed but said nothing, and Trey crossed the foyer to Kai, who rolled his eyes and ushered her towards the stairs. “Ignore him,” he said. “Mika hates Tala and anyone associated with him. It's nothing personal to you.”

“So, Tala has a twin?” she asked. “And they hate each other, but no one thought to mention it.”

Kai ran his hand through his hair, expression pinched with frustration. “It's complicated, and probably better left for Tala to explain,” he said. “I wouldn't even know where to start. I'm sorry he showed up now, though, while your here. It’s not going to make for the best vacation.”

“It seemed serious,” Trey said, remembering the black mood Tala descended into after that particular phone call. “And you seemed surprised Tala introduced us?”

“I was,” Kai said, opening the door to the game room and letting Trey step through first. “Tala is - guarded - about Mika.”

Trey flopped onto one of the couches in the room, propping her chin on her fist. “You thought Tala would lie to me?” Her tone walked a delicate balance between curiosity and hurt, and Kai realized his next words needed to be careful.

“Yes,” he admitted, and took a seat on a chair facing Trey. “About Mika’s identity, at least. It's hard to explain without explaining everything, but no one knows about Mika except me, and Ian because he hacked Tala’s files once.”

Trey laughed. “Tala had to be furious.”

Kai’s smile was faint. “Ian stayed with me for a couple of weeks while Tala calmed down,” he said. “I think that's the maddest I’ve ever seen him at Ian, but it worked out. Ian lives here, better for him to know.”

“But not me?”

Kai shook his head. “If that were the case, Tala wouldn't have introduced you. Believe me, I’m relieved. Don't mistake my surprise for judgment.”

“Why is the fact that Tala has a twin such a big deal?”

“Because, if the wrong people found out, it would end me,” Tala said.

Kai and Trey looked up at the intrusion and Tala smiled. He sat down beside Trey and adjusted when she cuddled against his side. “Mika’s getting settled,” Tala said to Kai’s look. “I figured you’d be giving her cryptic explanations, and thought it'd be better for me to just explain.”

“I wish someone would,” Trey said, elbowing Tala in the ribs.

Tala kissed the top of her head. “Knowing my darkest secrets isn't as appealing as it might seem, just ask Kai,” he said. “Last chance to bow out.”

“Tala, you were a psychotic lunatic I used to hate. Let's be clear that my opinion of you is pretty low, already,” Trey said.

The tension in Tala eased again and he relaxed against her. “Right. Somehow, I keep forgetting that bit.”

[connorspiracy]

Here Comes Santa Claws || Connor & Sasha

TIMING: Just before Christmas PARTIES: @connorspiracy and @sasha-r-blog CONTENT: N/A SUMMARY: Connor has a run-in with The Claw  

Connor hadn’t been out of the hospital for long before he was right back out in the fray. Bug bite. Temporarily paralytic. Typical White Crest shit. It wore off within an hour or two and they’d kept him one night for observation, but he’d been back home the next day, and back out filming the next night. All in all, it’d been a fairly uneventful night. Not too common in White Crest, but it happened sometimes. He’d been heading back to his car when he passed the two drunk college bros in santa hats, probably on the way home from a Christmas party or something. 

“Heyyy,” one of them slurred. “Are you a film student? Can I be in your movie?”

Apparently, it must have been the best joke ever, because they both started laughing. Connor took a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head.

“Nah, mate. Battery’s dead anyway,” he lied. 

“Oh, come on,” the other one said, winking. “Is it, y’know, a dirty movie? We won’t tell anyone.” 

Connor was a pretty jovial dude, but some people were really fucking annoying. He sighed. “No, documentary, but I gotta get home anyway. Have a good night, lads.” 

He kept walking, but felt a hand grab his shoulder. 

“Come on. Don’t be a dick.” One of them grabbed at the camera, snatching it from his hands and starting to record themselves. “Hey, battery isn’t dead, you’re full of shit.” 

Sasha’s night hadn’t gone very successfully, which sucked, but wasn’t that surprising. People were out and about, but nothing criminal or suspicious or even vaguely interesting had happened within the last few hours. Sasha has been keeping a lookout of the streets from the roof of a building, but as her eyes grew bleary she thought it would probably be best to just pack it in for the night. She had a project for class she had to work on anyways. Though if she was being honest with herself she was probably just going to make some hot chocolate and go to sleep once she was back. 

Climbing down the sides of the building, she ducked into an alley to get changed. She brought a pair of jeans and a sweater, enough to cover the spandex while she tucked the rest of her costume back into her backpack. But before she could even start taking off her mask, she heard some sort of commotion. Well, maybe less of a commotion and more of a disturbance. Shouldering her bag again she listened. Three voices. Two sounded like assholes, to be blunt. Also maybe drunk. And what they were saying didn’t sound like it was going in a good direction for whoever the third person was.

Okay, so maybe tonight wouldn’t be so uneventful after all.

Sasha crept through the other end of the alley, towards the noise. And as she peaked out onto the street she could see the three of them about ten feet away. How hard could it be to take down two drunk frat bros? Maybe they’d even be scared off before they got themselves hurt by the justice of The Claw.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Sasha tried to be menacing, amber eyes flashing as she tried to do a half hunched, crouch thing, something that looked like a tiger about to lunge. It looked cool in her head at least.

“I don’t think that camera belongs to you. How about you hand that back before you regret it.” 

“Guess it has a little juice left,” Connor answered, grabbing for the camera. The other men were larger than him. He’d always been on the smaller side, a matter that didn’t especially bother him except when it came to people not believing his I.D. was real when he was trying to get a drink. Now, though, it was annoying to be unable to reach. “Give it back, dude. It’s expensive.”

“Expensive?” One of them mocked. “Aw, the widdle baby needs his expensive camera back? Did mommy and daddy get it for you, Prince William?” The words prompted more laughter from both frat bros and Connor rolled his eyes. 

“Very funny. You should be on the improv team. Now if I could just--”

Before the conversation could go any further, he caught sight of the fourth person, a young woman in a domino mask with glowing yellow eyes who stepped out from the alley. One of the men almost dropped the camera in response, causing Connor’s heart to jump into his throat. 

“Please, please don’t let ‘em drop it…” he begged of the stranger, and one of them shoved the camera into Connor’s chest so hard it sent him stumbling backwards. 

“Whoa, nice costume,” one of the bros said. “Girl, you know it’s not Halloween any more.” 

“I’m aware.” Sasha wanted that to sound cool, threatening, unaffected. Too bad she couldn’t keep the offense from her voice. “This isn’t some costume party, so why don’t you get out of here and leave that guy alone.”

She tried her best to stare down the guy who had spoken to her, but curiosity kept making her glance back at the other guy, shorter than the two meatheads and clearly in need of help.  From the sounds of it that camera was expensive, good thing she had heard the trouble before these jerks broke it or ran off with it. It was almost more annoying that they seemed to just be random drunk college students. She was expecting to find some hardened criminal with a gun or knife looking to threaten a man for his money, not some dude bro assholes just starting trouble for the sake of it.

So could anyone really blame her if she wanted to show off just a little? Just like, a little warning shot. Just so they knew she meant business and didn’t get any ideas about harassing more people tonight, or commenting on their costume. 

With surprising speed Sasha rushed up to the closest dude and reached for his collar. Didn’t matter that he was a good several inches taller than her and bulky, she knew she could lift him if she got a good grip. 

Honestly, Connor was just glad someone was helping him out and stopping his camera from being shattered on the frosty pavement. The guy had left it rolling, and Connor saw no need to correct that as he gazed on. He was intrigued to see what might happen. Size wasn’t necessarily an indication of strength or prowess. Rio was pretty much the scrawniest guy in the world, and he had hunter strength, but surely the guys wouldn’t try and fight her, right? 

“Oh, piss off,” one of them scoffed, gathering up a snowball to throw at her, only before he could let loose, the stranger cleared the distance between them almost as if by magic, hoisting the man off his feet. The snow crumpled in his hand and fell to the ground, and his friend let out a yelp.

“Yo, what the hell, lady? We were just goofing around. Put him down!”

It wasn’t visible under her toothy face mask, but Sasha grinned from ear to ear as she watched the dude she lifted up stare down at her. Shock, confusion, a bit of fear. Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have insulted my costume.

“What the fuck!” The dude was squirming, so probably a good idea actually let go. Soon he’d start punching or kicking to get free and Sasha wasn’t planning on a full on fight unless she needed to. Still holding the one man by his collar she turned towards the other who was sporting a similar look of confusion. Why shouldn’t he be a little more freaked out too?

So Sasha threw the one dude at the other. Okay, well, tried to. Even with super strength, it turns out full on throwing a full grown man isn’t easy. The guy got more roughly pushed backwards than anything, slipping on the slightly icy sidewalk and falling shoulder first into his friend, losing his hat in the process. Maybe not as dramatic as it could have been, but she threw in another flash on amber eyes to make up for that. 

The two nearly toppled to the ground together, but managed to right themselves. Pretty impressive, considering they were drunk. After a moment of getting his bearings the dude huffed out; “This lady’s either crazy or on something, let’s go.” Despite this being a really great plan on the dude’s part, the friend that hadn’t gotten picked up stared Sasha down. His eyes were still confused, but the shock was wearing off and Sasha could see his jaw clench. But the other dude tugged his arm to get him moving. 

“You’re a fucking weirdo. You’re lucky I don’t punch chicks.” The lingering guy said, before finally following his friend, shouldering past the guy with the camera.

Sasha watched them leave, heart pounding in her chest still from the adrenaline, before turning toward the camera guy. Crap, okay, she needed some cool line now. Like “Have no fear citizen!” but less dorky. 

“Are you okay?” was the only thing that came out of her mouth on the spot. 

"You're lucky she didn't punch you," Connor scoffed at the departing dudebro, feeling a little braver now that he'd just had his honour defended by White Crest's own Black Panther. He caught his breath, letting the waves of adrenaline calm a little. The fight or flight was gone. Connor wasn't freaked out. Not in the least. The altercation with the frat boys had been less than ideal, but the sheer exhilaration of meeting this young woman had replaced any fear or concern that might have been hanging around. 

"Dude, that was... awesome!" Connor was practically vibrating out of his skin. Of all the bizarre things in White Crest he was morbidly excited about, it was rare to actually find one who wasn't out to kill or maim him. "Like, actually awesome. You... uh, you saved my arse." He gave a slight chuckle. He wasn't too proud to admit it. In fact, the idea of being saved by a super cool badass chick was kind of incredible. "What's, um, what's your name? I'm Connor." 

Sasha stood up a bit taller at the praise. That had actually gone well! It hadn’t really hit her until the guy with the camera spoke. Sure, it was just two drunk dudes vs. superpowers but still, she had managed to scare them off and save someone. Without thinking she let out a surprised little chuckle and hoped it was muffled under her mask. 

“I’m The Claw,” She said, her grin seeping into her voice. “Protector of White Crest. No need to thank me, it is my job to make sure the citizens of town are safe from criminals and people who want to harm others.” 

Connor...why did that name sound familiar? As Sasha finished her introduction she remembered the guy she had spoken to online, the one who was into ghosts. Behind her mask her grin faltered. She guessed the town wasn’t big enough to completely avoid it, but she hadn’t expected to save someone she kinda knew. 

“Were those people that you know? Do you feel safe heading to wherever you are heading?” She asked, trying to get back into the mindset of The Claw. 

“The Claw,” he repeated, unable to break his gaze on her. A glimmer of recognition stirred in his chest, but not for the woman. It was recognition of a different nature. A spirit. Connor kept his eyes on her, trying to see her expression through the mask, as if that would give him any clue whether she was possessed or not. “That’s, um, very noble of you.” She definitely wasn’t acting anything like the spirit inside Nadia, or almost any other possession cases he’d come across, but not all possessions had to be malicious. Their effects harmed the host regardless. 

“No, I never saw them before. I think they were heading back from a holiday party or something. I’m just…” He held up his camera. Not that she hadn’t seen it when she’d zoomed in like a Knight In Batman Armour to save his arse. “I was doing some filming, but, um… actually, do you wanna walk back to the car with me? I think it’d be best if we stick together.” He wasn’t scared, not really, but he wanted to keep her close for as long as possible, see if he could garner any more clues. “How long have you been, uh, protecting White Crest?”

Sasha paused for a beat longer than intended before responding.

 “Of course. I wouldn’t want those people to come back and try to hurt you again. Even if they were just being troublemakers in the moment, it is my duty to make sure you get back safe.”

She had intended to walk him back if he wanted her too and still did. But there was something uncanny about talking to Connor now the adrenaline was gone and she had recognized him. But she let him lead the way, eyes and ears peeled for if danger did show up.

She hadn’t expected the question either. Sure, superheroes get asked “who are you?” from the people they rescue all the time, but Sasha didn’t know what to do with Connor asking for details. She thought about lying for a second, saying something like “The Claw has always guarded this town,” but considering White Crest’s apparent track record with death and danger that lie would probably make her look bad.

“I only started protecting this town recently. I came when I thought it needed me most. And while those men were just drunken jerks, I’m glad I was able to help stop trouble tonight, however small.”

Was she laying it on too thick? She hadn’t exactly prepared a script for this sort of thing. She tried to keep looking straight ahead, as if somehow her nervousness would show through two layers of masks if she looked Connor in the eye. 

Connor smiled to himself as he walked. She sounded like she was right out of the pages of one of the cornier Superman comics, but there was also something endearing about it. “If any town needs a bloody superhero, it’s this one,” he snickered. He could feel something spiritual about her, but it didn’t feel malicious. He felt drawn to her, a need to investigate beyond just the mere fact he’d seen her use super-strength. 

“So do you have any other powers? Laser vision, telekinesis?” She almost definitely wasn’t going to answer, but hey, it was worth a shot. Connor rarely saw the need to keep his questions to himself. “Oh! Do you have, like, a Batsignal? A way people can call on you when they need you? Maybe a burner phone, although that would be less exciting.” 

He was sure he’d caught some of her antics on camera, even though the footage probably wasn’t great thanks to being passed from one person to the other rather than held steadily. He couldn’t wait to look through it when he got back.

Sasha grinned. Superpowers, now that was something she could talk about easily. 

“No laser vision, but I’m fully capable of defeating evil.” She brought up her hand, but paused for a moment. No, it was fine, she was still in costume and on duty after all, even if she was now just walking with Connor back to his car. And he didn’t seem to have any inkling of who she was.

In an instant sharp, pale colored claws sprouted from Sasha’s fingers. And sure, maybe being seen as cool by someone was going to her head a bit. But who could blame her? She let the quick flicker of amber that helped her see in the dark glow steady from her eyes, causing light to shine from behind her domino mask. The Claw probably looked awesome. Or at least Sasha hoped. When she had done it in the mirror it looked cool to her.

“No signal, just my eyes and ears to keep a lookout.” But maybe that wasn’t too bad of an idea. At least the burner phone idea seemed pretty reasonable, but it might ruin the mystique a bit. “I’ll have to look into ways to let people get in contact with me.” 

“Well, love, you’ll probably find a lot of evil here,” Connor said simply, giving a laid back little chuckle. He’d heard horrific tales about some of the horrors White Crest held, and he’d seen many of them too. “Just be careful, yeah? Not all of ‘em can be defeated by super strength.” As impressive as it might have been. 

He turned his gaze towards her, watching her hand as she brought forth a set of sharp claws. “Whoa!” Christ, he wished he still had his camera rolling. He should’ve worn that GoPro attachment Jasmine had got him, but foolishly, he’d put it in his backpack, thinking his filming was done for the night. Her eyes glowed like jewels in the darkness. “That’s amazing,” he said, in awe. He made a mental note to look through some of Rio’s books later to see if he could find anything about animal-like spirits giving people powers. 

“Uh, this is me,” he said as they approached his black Jeep Renegade. “Thanks for the save. Hope you can use those powers of yours to find me again.” 

“Thank you for the concern, I will keep that in mind.” Sasha retracted her claws and let the glow fade from her eye. Part of her wanted to argue, say confidently that nothing could really go up against her strength, agility, and claws. But she wasn’t that cocky, and there was something about the way everyone kept talking about White Crest that was starting to put her on edge. Yeah, the town felt weird, and the death rates didn’t lie, but it felt like everyone talked like they were dancing around something, as if telling a joke she wasn’t privy to, that she could never hope to get. She didn’t know how to feel about the chuckle as Connor spoke. What wasn’t she getting?

Maybe that is just what it was like, being in a new town. She’d have to make an effort to look around more, maybe even talk to people, despite how hard that felt without her mask on. It was so much easier to jump from building to building under the cover of night or talk to Connor when she was hidden behind cool powers and a costume. It made her feel powerful, cool, “amazing” as Connor just said. People didn’t say that about Sasha, but they did about The Claw. 

“Hopefully you won’t need any more protection, but if you ever run into trouble know that The Claw will be here to help.” She nodded once, more to herself than Connor. She would keep an eye out for him while doing future patrols, but maybe he was right, a way for people to contact her would be helpful.

“Keep safe.” She said, and with that she darted toward a nearby alley, out of view. But she would climb up another fire escape and spend another hour with her eyes peeled, even as Connor’s Jeep disappeared into the distance. She had helped someone after all, and the pride did a good job pushing away her weariness. 

[cheemerthelizard]

Crusader of Life 2: Chapter 11

This is the last one I have queued, but the journey is far from over! This is only the beginning to a very bizarre adventure! (Yes that means infrequent updates I’m sorry about that)

Jotaro peered over the horizon, seeing Kakyoin running over to him, waving.

“You’re really still ready to go?” Jotaro asked. His friend had just lost his only daughter, surely he wasn’t ready to come back and fight. “Nobody will blame you for taking a few days off to grieve Emily.”

“Well, as it turns out, Emily is fine,” Kakyoin answered through heavy breaths.

“What? B-but her body!” Koichi sputtered.

“Yes, that was, indeed, Emily’s dead body,” Kakyoin explained. “But Lily had duplicated her before it was too late, so there was another Emily with only a burn on her hand.”

“That’s a relief,” Josuke sighed. “I was getting pretty downhearted myself. She’s a cute kid.”

“Well, Kakyoin, if you’re really feeling yourself,” Jotaro smirked, “then welcome aboard.”

After telling Josuke and Koichi to stay at the shore, Jotaro started the boat, and they were off.

“Are you sure Josuke can take care of Chili Pepper if he shows up?” Kakyoin asked.

“Oh, believe me, he can,” Jotaro chuckled. “If anyone can take down that Stand, it’s Josuke.”

“I’ll send Hierophant to warn Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin said. He summoned his Stand, and watched as it shot towards the slowly approaching ship. When Hierophant got there, he saw a familiar face, in an almost pitying state. Of course, he wasn’t expecting much different from Jotaro’s description of him.

“Excuse me, do you know where my cane is?” Joseph asked a Speedwagon worker.

“It’s right there, sir,” the worker answered.

“Ah, I see. Thank you.” Joseph reached for the cane, but stopped when it was carried over to him by Hierophant.

“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Joestar,” Kakyoin’s voice came through the Stand.

“There’s a voice I never thought I’d hear again,” Joseph smiled. “How are you doing, Kakyoin?”

“I’m doing fine, but that’s not important,” Hierophant told him. “You see, there’s a Stand user coming to attack you, and we wanted to warn you before it’s too late.”

“What’s that?” Joseph put a hand up to his ear. “A band member wants to whack me?”

This was not the Joseph Kakyoin knew a few years ago. “Staaand uuuuseeer… coming to ataaaaack yoooooou.”

“Ah, I see now,” Joseph said. “Sorry about that. Anyway, I’ve heard you and Lily have a child now. How are you liking that?”

“It’s hard, especially when Emily’s developed a Stand,” Hierophant laughed, “but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

“A Stand user?” Joseph asked. “Is it killing her?”

“No,” Kakyoin answered. “Well, not exactly. It is making her sick, but we’ve been limiting her use of it, and she’s recovering really well. I think we can allow her to use Walking on Sunshine by the end of this week.”

“Kakyoin, why aren’t you calling back Hierophant?” Jotaro queried. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mr. Joestar just wants to talk,” Kakyoin reassured him. “It’s been forever since we’ve caught up with each other, after all.”

Jotaro nodded. “You did tell him about Red Hot Chili Pepper, right?”

“I did. He doesn’t seem the least bit worried, though.”

“Well, tell him that we’re about to board the ship.”

“Will do.” Kakyoin had Hierophant pass on the news to Joseph, who nodded in acknowledgement. Soon, their little boat was close enough, and Jotaro, Kakyoin, and Okuyasu all got on.

“You know, it’s been nice talking to you,” Joseph continued, “but I wish I could see your face once again.”

“No need,” Kakyoin entered the room, calling back Hierophant. Joseph’s lips curled up into a smile.

“My, how you’ve grown,” he said.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Joestar.”

“Who’s that young man behind you?”

“Oh, him? This is Okuyasu.” Kakyoin let the boy through, revealing his whole body.

“Okuyasu?”

“Yup,” Okuyasu answered. “I’m Josuke’s neighbor, and also a Stand user.”

“A what?”

“A Stand user.”

“Huh?”

“Stand user!”

“Ah, a Stand user,” Joseph nodded. Neither of them noticed that Kakyoin had snuck out, and was watching the ship dock with Jotaro.

“This is either gonna be really awkward or really heartwarming,” Jotaro grumbled, “and I’m not prepared for either.”

“Ah, still trying to keep that cold exterior as always, Jotaro,” Kakyoin chuckled. “Although, it will be really awkward for everyone if things don’t go well. I’m hoping that doesn’t happen.”

As the boat docked, and everyone safely made it to Morioh, Joseph emerged from the room he was in, and saw his son, Josuke, who couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“Great,” Jotaro whispered to Kakyoin, “it’s gonna be awkward.”

Joseph slowly walked down the ramp, but suddenly tripped, losing grip of his cane and falling to the floor. That is, until Josuke caught him.

“Watch your step,” he said. “You could fall in the ocean.”

“I’m sorry,” Joseph replied. “I would use my cane, but it seems like it broke while I was walking down here.”

Josuke looked at the cane, which he could easily fix, and sighed. “Looks like I have no choice.” He grabbed onto his father’s hand, and walked him down the rest of the way.

Kakyoin smiled brightly. Looks like it wouldn’t be awkward after all. “So, once we retrieve the bow and arrow and make sure the people affected don’t go mad with power, we should be pretty much done, right?”

Jotaro nodded. “The threat to Morioh will be gone, and if anyone else shows up to cause a commotion, Josuke and his friends will stop them right in their tracks.”

“We can finally go home soon,” Kakyoin sighed.

***

“Alright, start talking!” Jotaro slammed on the jail bars holding in Akira Otoishi, the user of Red Hot Chili Pepper. With him was Lily, standing by in case he tried anything funny.

“You won’t get anything out of me,” Akira scoffed, “I know you’re not going to kill me.”

“Lily?”

“You got it, Jotaro.” Lily summoned Ace of Pentacles, and made a copy of Akira, which Star Platinum punched, and punched hard. Multiple times. When he was done, the copied Akira was practically bleeding out, but not dead.

“We could leave you like this,” Jotaro threatened. “On the brink of death. It’s not dead, but it sure hurts way more.”

“How about we put that copy out of its misery?” Lily asked Jotaro.

“That sounds like a good idea,” Jotaro answered, punching a hole through the second Akira’s abdomen.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk!” Akira stammered. “Whatever you need to know, I’ll tell!”

“Good, good,” Jotaro nodded. “So, first off, where are you hiding the bow and arrow?”

“What are you gonna do with it?” Akira asked. Jotaro summoned Star Platinum again, and Akira backed into a corner. “My house! My house!”

“How many other people did you use the arrow on, and who survived?”

“I-I don’t know them all! Honest!” Akira squeaked. “I can tell you the ones I know, but there might be others I didn’t list.”

He told the two of them all that he could, all while begging to be spared. When he was done, Jotaro lowered his hat, and left the jail, along with Lily.

“That’s a lot of Stand users,” Lily half-laughed.

“Good grief, we’re never leaving this town,” Jotaro groaned.

“So, how did it go?” Kakyoin asked.

“Oh, it went fine,” Lily sighed. “Jotaro took notes on all of the people who survived getting hit by the arrow.”

“Geez, that’s a lot,” Kakyoin mumbled. “We need a babysitter for Emily if we’re gonna get all of these done.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Lily commented. “Of course, her sitter must be another Stand user.”

“They can’t be against us, either,” Kakyoin added. “So someone we know and trust, for sure.”

“And their Stand helping them take care of a kid is a big plus, too,” Lily finished. Both of them looked at each other. They knew exactly who to ask.

***

“Josuke!” Tomoko yelled. “Get the door, would you?”

“I got it!” Josuke yelled back. He looked through the doorhole, and saw two, no, three familiar faces.

“Mr. Kakyoin, Mrs. Lily, Emily, hi!” he said. “What brings you here?”

“Well,” Lily rubbed behind her neck, “we have a job for you. A job that we’ll pay you for, of course, and one you can turn down if you don’t want to do it.”

“We need a babysitter for Emily,” Kakyoin finished. “We chose you because you meet all of our requirements, as well as meet some extra criteria, but we can choose someone else if you don’t want to.”

“It won’t start today, so feel free to think about it,” Lily added.

“I’d be happy to!” Josuke immediately responded.

“Really?” Kakyoin’s eyes widened. “You made the decision just like that?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, Emily’s the cutest thing, who wouldn’t want to spend the afternoon with her? Plus, me and her get along really well, and I can fix anything she breaks. What could go wrong?”

Kakyoin and Lily looked each other in the eye.

“Well, if you’re really sure, then your first day is tomorrow,” Lily told Josuke. “See you then!”

“Bye!” Josuke called. Tomorrow was going to be the best day ever.

[paybackraid]

So I started writing this at about 10:30 last night after reading @khkeystagram ‘s last posts. Fell asleep, woke up at 3:30 or so and finished it. The ending was supposed to be slightly humorous but I think it came out rushed BUT it was like 5 when I finished s o. Plenty of strong language, they’re all emotional.

Summary: Lea is terrified, but slightly impressed.

Words: 1992

The whole of the ResCom was out of their fucking minds, and that was all that Lea had to say on that.

They were batshit insane if they honestly thought that Roxas was going anywhere near those freaks.

“The king said—“

“The king can say what he likes!” Lea snapped, fingertips digging into Roxas’ shoulders. Isa could have died, and no one seemed to fucking get that! Auron was hovering awful close to dead, and they h o n e s t l y thought that Roxas was going to go in alone, with no one but a stinking duck at his side.

He had already lost Roxas once, and it almost fucking broke him. He was not risking it. Not again, and definitely not like this.

“Lea, it’s fi—“ Roxas didn’t seem too fond of saving his own life, apparently. He wasn’t protesting at all, in fact was almost buzzing with excitement. Lea knew he had seen considerably less action than he had in his days in the Organization and was probably a little antsy, but going from zero to roughly five million was too big a risk.

“No, it the fuck isn’t!” Lea snapped. “The king’s been fucking batshit for ages! You’re a kid, going into a fight that almost killed three people!”

“He asked for me!”

“I don’t care!”

Donald, looking more than a little anxious, watched them argue. He had arrived not too long ago. Goofy was with him, though he didn’t seem to be ready to fight.

“YOU’RE!! A!! KID!!” And kids were never supposed to get involved. It was bad enough that Ven was the target, and bad enough that him staying with them meant that Xion and Roxas were in danger. Now, Roxas was to be the sole target. And what, because some cracked up king thought Roxas was OP?

“I can fight!! I could kick your ass!!”

“I am not the same as Aqua and Terra, Norted and apparently on a RAMPAGE! Look!! Look at them!” Lea grabbed Roxas’ arm and spun him to face Zack, who sat with Cloud and was leaning his head on their shoulder. Isa wasn’t even there, still being looked after by Aerith, while Auron had to be brought to an actual hospital. The message, though, was loud and clear.  “What if that happens to you?!?” Lea would never forgive himself. He would never, ever forgive himself. Kids weren’t supposed to be involved.

“It won’t!”

Xion and Ven had taken a step back once Lea started yelling, rather than crowding around Lea while he did the Scared Mom thing. They watched one another and the exchange, looking as if they wanted to input something but didn’t want to face overprotective Lea.

“You can’t know that!”

“They’re out there!” Roxas finally snapped, stamping his foot like a sullen child. “Okay?! Terra and Aqua—or, or Jeff and… what did he call her? Jeff and Regina are coming here, Lea! You saw Leon’s text—Terra’s gonna raze the fucking town trying to get to Ven! Then it won’t just be me and Donald in danger!” Donald quacked when he realized he was being spoken of, but didn’t try to get into their conversation. “It’ll be you, and Xion, and Ven, and Naminé, and everyone here. An entire town of innocents is a whole lot worse than just Donald and me.”

Lea’s eyes darted between Roxas and the kids, between the two keyblades Roxas had suddenly conjured. Oh, he hated it when the kids used logic on him.

“At least if it’s just the two of us, I won’t have to worry about looking out for anyone else, and I grabbed like twenty Mega Potions, so when Donald inevitably doesn’t heal me, it’s fine.”

Lea shook his head hard and whipped around to Ven and Xion. Ven squeezed Chirithy tighter in his arms. “You two! Talk him out of this!”

“Someone has to stop them,” Ven whispered into Chirithy’s fur, only just loud enough to be heard. “Even over keysta, something hasn’t felt… right. It’s like… like that’s them, but it’s not them? I don’t get it, but Aqua and Terra aren’t in control. If we can’t stop them with reason, then we have to stop them by force. And I guess if I trust anyone to do it, it’s Roxas.”

“Wrong answer,” Lea snapped. “You.”

“Lea, if someone doesn’t, we could all die. The king might be… kind of weird, but he has a point. Roxas is a bitch to fight. He’s fast, and the light thing he does makes him impossible to touch. He stands better a chance than any of us.” Xion said right after, without even missing a beat. She seemed a little nervous, but she also knew that Roxas was one of the better fighters in their bizarre gaggle of friends. “Riku won’t even fight him.”

“That’s not fair, and don’t bring me into this,” Riku scoffed from the other side of the shelter, where he was crouched by Naminé.

Donald finally came up and touched Lea’s shoulder with his staff. He looked psyched up and ready to go—probably, this was the only chance of him being brave, so they had to take advantage of it. “Don’t worry,” he quacked, “we’ll be home in time for supper.”

Lea took an extra few seconds to translate the duck, then looked down to Roxas, who looked to him with a surprisingly hopeful and fiercely determined blue gaze. He wanted to fight. He had offered to help before, and now it really was no longer a choice.

...Kids were not supposed to be involved.

“You saw what they did to Isa and Zack.  Auron’s a hell of a lot worse. So if… if you’re going to do this, you’re going to be safe, and you’re going to be smart. And you,” he turned down to Donald, “are going to heal him whenever he needs it.”

Donald nodded shallowly, muttering under his breath (something about no one worrying about whether he’d be safe?) and walking toward the waiting Leon.

“Lea—“ Roxas started, but before he said anything, Lea snapped, “and none of this last words bullshit. You’re coming back.”

“Of course I am! Terra’s slow, and Aqua is better with magic than her blade.”

Lea clapped his hands on Roxas’ shoulders and looked him up and down. Hard to believe this was the same gremlin who semi-regularly wandered Twilight Town looking for old leftovers to eat, or the same zombie who used to follow him like a puppy.

“Good luck,” Xion said, reaching forward to squeeze Roxas’ shoulder just above Lea’s hand.

Ven hugged Chirithy a little tighter, lifting his face out of its fur to request, “bring them home. Please.”

“Don’t worry! This is gonna be easy as pie.”

Finally, Lea drank enough of an eyeful in of this stupid, reckless teen. When Xion dropped her hand, he tugged Roxas forward and hugged him close against his chest, meshing his hand into his soft hair. “Be safe.” It wasn’t often that he said what he was about to say, but when he did, he meant it with his whole restored heart: “I love you.”

“...I thought we weren’t doing any of that last word bullshit.”

Lea sniffed hard and released the brat. He cleared his throat and shoved the kid away, toward Donald. “We’re not! Just… get outta here, and don’t get yourself hurt too bad.”

“Aye aye!” With that, Roxas turned on his heel and approached Leon, saying he was ready to go. Leon nodded and escorted them toward the Gummi hangar. Lea watched Roxas take out his phone, probably to text one of the other kids (since keysta was pretty much shut down as per Leon’s command).

“Remember!” Xion called, jumping to her toes. “Scars are sexy!”

“Xion!”

Roxas waved them off with a laugh. Then, he was gone.

Within a few minutes, a small Gummi ship left the hangar and headed toward the outskirts of RadGard, where they hoped to cut off Terra and Aqua on their warpath—catch their eye with the lookalike of their target, then bring them to their knees where no one else could get hurt.

Lea closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Suddenly, he wanted to see Isa. He was awake when they brought him in—maybe he was still awake now. Isa had a monotonous, soothing voice and saw reason like few others—it was why he had disappeared to find Terra and Aqua, and unfortunately was why he was hurt now. Lea didn’t have to like it, but he knew that what Isa had done made sense. ...At least some.

...But Aerith had said she would come find him when Isa was finished being healed. He liked Aerith, and knew she would keep her word. He just… had to trust her.

Instead, he turned to Xion, who looked up at him with curious eyes. She suddenly stumbled, nearly lost her footing, when Lea tugged her hard into his arms and hugged her close. At least this was one he could hold close.

“Yo,” Cloud called from next to Zack, who now seemed to be half-napping on their shoulder. “He’s gonna be fine. Kid’s tough.”

Lea glanced his way, eyeing Zack on their shoulder whose hand was so messed up it nearly had to be amputated.

“Dilan and Aeleus went with ‘em,” Cloud continued. “Not to fight—so they’ll have an airlift if they run into any problems—“ Lea’s eyes went wide instantly, heart pounding like a heart attack, “—aaaand if they don’t, they can get Aqua and Terra on the ship and to Ienzo ASAP. We thought this one through this time.”

Lea scowled a little and dropped his head to rest on Xion’s head. Xion was squirming a little and kind of making like she wanted to go to her girlfriend, but Lea had firmly decided that until Roxas was back safe and sound, he wasn’t letting her go.

Suddenly, there was a noise outside like a ship coming in. Lea lifted his head toward the one window and saw… the same ship that had just left a little more than five minutes ago? ...What?

Fuck, that couldn’t be good. It could not be good. Dilan and Aeleus were bringing Roxas and Donald back already—they must have lost spectacularly. Xion had said scars were sexy, but he hoped that Roxas knew she was joking.

Leon went out to meet them, a little trepidant because it was far too early for them to be home.

They’re dead. Oh god oh no oh FUCK they’re dead. Dilan and Aeleus are going to carry them out in a goddamn bodybag Lea what the hell were you thinking he was a KID! What’s Isa goiiii—what?

Much to probably everyone’s surprise, the door opened and it wasn’t Leon, Aeleus, or Dilan to step through.

Sure enough, Roxas stepped through the hangar door, an arm behind his head. Donald followed him through. Neither looked like they’d even broken a sweat. In fact, Roxas was grinning like he had had the time of his life.

Roxas lifted his head to them, then lifted the arm behind his head in greeting. “I told you!! It’d be easy as pie!! Ven, Aeleus and Dilan are bringing them in now.”

A startled silence descended over the three keyblade wielders, who didn’t know quite what they were meant to say to that. Everyone else chattered—Naminé dove at Roxas for a hug, Riku clapped him hard on the back, Goofy barreled for Donald, Cloud went to assist in getting the two Norted wielders in.

After a moment, and Roxas walking toward them still grinning like a madman, all that Lea’s mind was able to process was that he didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Roxas and Donald had succeeded in like two minutes, where Auron had nearly died, Zack nearly lost a hand, and Isa wouldn’t be breathing right for days?

“...What?”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

When a gorilla tells you to do something, you bloody well do it

Author: LuridLolly

Year: 2010

Rating: PG

Characters: Naboo, Bollo, Jones, Vince, Howard

When a gorilla tells you to do something, you bloody well do it, because you’ve just met a talking gorilla and when reality gets that ridiculous, you shouldn’t fight it. At least, that’s what Jones reasoned when a gorilla approached (see: ambushed) him after a gig and told him that he was going to have to pretend to be someone named Vince for a few days. So Jones let himself be driven to Dalston in a spray-painted van by a laconic gorilla. When they walked up to a flat as bizarrely decorated as the House of Jones and met a tiny man dressed as the shah of Persia, Jones barely registered these things as surprising (though he did fleetingly wonder if someone had slipped pills into his alcopop at the club). It wasn’t until the tiny man and the gorilla were dyeing Jones’ hair black in the kitchen sink that he started to feel a touch of panic. When they put him forced him out of his own shirt and into a pink blouse belted with something both fringed and glittery, the panic turned into irritation. Jones stood in front of the mirror in what he had been told was Vince’s (and thus his) room. “Fuck no.” “Outfit very fashionable, like Vince,” the gorilla grunted. Jones watched in the mirror as the tiny man crossed his arms. “If you don’t pretend to be Vince, I’ll turn you into a puffer fish and leave you on the windowsill to shrivel up like a raisin.” Jones nibbled his thumbnail thoughtfully. “Mm. So wha’do I have to do, exactly?” The tiny man almost smiled. “Sleep in, fuss about your hair, chat up birds, worry about being fashionable, show up to work in the shop downstairs about mid-afternoon. Antagonize Howard for a bit, faff about, then go out to a club and drink too much.” Jones looked at his worried nail a moment before nodding. “And who’s Howard?” “Howard a ballbag,” the gorilla scoffed. “Yeah, a ballbag who’ll be your best mate for the next couple days,” the tiny man clarified. “Brilliant.” “And if Howard finds out you’re not the real Vince, Bollo here’ll rip off your arms,” the tiny man continued, indicating the gorilla, who helpfully mimed ripping out Jones’ arms. “Right. Can I know why?” “Howard’s absolute rubbish with secrets, and no one can know that Vince isn’t in Dalston. He’s in enough trouble as it is.” Jones nodded, because it was the only response he could think to give this vague explanation. “We’re off, then. We should be back in a day or two. Good luck, and remember—don’t fuck this up, or you’re dead. Bollo, get the carpet.” When his captors left the room, Jones climbed onto the mess of pillows that was probably meant to be the bed and curled up for a little sleep. Hopefully he would wake up to find this had all been a freakish dream and he would have a laugh and tell Dan about it. Maybe the story would even make Dan smile. Jones woke with a start when something touched his shoulder. “Vince? Are you awake?” Jones peered suspiciously at the lilac pillow in his immediate line of vision. It didn’t look familiar. Jones turned his head slowly, taking in the Bowie poster on the wall and mobile of bus tickets and bottle caps and peacock feathers that turned above him. “I made you some tea and toast, if you want it.” Apparently the dream wasn’t over. Jones looked over at the man standing next to the bed with a plate of toast and a mug. “Wotcher, Dan—this is my bad dream.” The man with the toast looked confused. “You, ah, had a bad dream?” Jones blinked. The man with the toast looked like Dan, but wasn’t. Dan was scruffy and shrewd; this man had on a cardigan and a trilby. “Terrible dream.” The man sat down on the edge of the bed, balancing the toast on his knee. “The balloon animals again?” “Sure.” “Well, no worries—it’s not real.” The man stood and placed the plate and mug on the bedside table. “Right.” Jones picked up a piece of toast. So, this bloke must be… “Howard?” The man turned back at the door. “Yeah, Vince?” “Thanks for the toast?” “No problem, little man.”

Jones spent some time eating his toast and riffling through Vince’s CDs (lots of electro rubbish and, inexplicably, Kings of Leon). Then he sat in front of the vanity and set up all the little bottles of nail varnish like dancing partners, with a canister of mousse working pomade-jar decks. Jones got tired of setting up a tiny bar on the back of hairbrush at about half two, and decided he would go down to the shop and see just how far he could push his luck in this unlikely adventure; he’d already managed to meet Howard and, seeing as he hadn’t been turned immediately into fish jerky, he hadn’t mucked it up too badly. And Howard looked a bit like Dan, and a familiar face might be a bit comforting. Especially a familiar face attached to someone who made toast. “Alright?” Jones ventured when he stepped into the shop. “Afternoon, Vince. You got in awfully late last night.” “I…got kidnapped by a monkey.” Well, it was true. Howard, who was stood at the counter, looked up from his book. “Are the monkeys trying to steal your face again?” he asked, his voice lacking the derision Jones might have expected. “Uh, sort of.” Jones ducked into the bubble chair next to a rack of shirts that had looked like they had been lifted from the seventies and idly picked up a copy of Cheekbone. The silence that followed was apprehensive, at least on Jones’ part. After pretending to study an article on the rise of the headband over the past ten years, Jones finally said, “So, ah, how has your day been?” “Oh.” Howard sounded a bit surprised. Weren’t these two best mates? “I’m glad you asked. I have, in fact, sold three jazz records this morning. Yes, Vince, I think you’re going to have to come to grips with the fact that people are finally embracing jazz as the true music of the world. They feel its power. They respect it.” Jones glanced at Howard, who was smirking self-importantly. “I see.” “You do?” “Or, ah, no way?” “You’d better believe it, little man; we are standing on the precipice of the Age of Jazz! Chickah chick-aaah.” Jones smiled to himself. This bloke was a loon. A pretty girl in a checked pink minidress came in and smiled at Jones. And in the ensuing conversation, with much giggling from the girl in the minidress having nothing to do with Jones actually being funny, Jones somehow managed to sell her the pop tab iguana statue in the corner. The girl giggled her way out of the shop, iguana clutched to her chest, leaving Jones with sixty Euros and her phone number. Jones handed the money to Howard, dumbfounded. “You’ve made a sale and gotten a number after half an hour of sitting about. Everything’s so easy for you.” “Apparently.” The resignedly bitter way Howard said it reminded Jones so much of Dan that Jones asked, “Do you like tikka masala?” before he really thought about it. Howard fussed with the till. “The tikka masala from the restaurant down the street is awful. We’re better off getting something from the chip shop.” “No, I could make some for dinner.” “You don’t cook.” “I don’t?” Howard closed the till. “Remember when you tried to make a Panini and ended up lighting the bread on fire and getting melted provolone all over one of Naboo’s books? He docked my pay for a month.” “He docked your pay? Never mind. I can cook now. I…read a pamphlet.” “Alright, but if you make a mess, I’m not cleaning it.” “I’ll nip down to the store.” Jones drummed his fingers on the countertop. “If that’s alright.” Howard smiled. “I think I can manage here without you.”

Jones had been looking for a spoon for ten minutes. He’d found a cauldron, and a drawer full of whisks of all sizes, and what appeared to be a fully operational dish-sponge discotheque. He’d managed to locate the plates and bowls, and some cereal (one box of Weetabix and a dozen boxes of something called Sugary Sugar Rings). But he couldn’t find even one bloody spoon. “Need any help?” Howard asked from the doorway. “Do y’have any sodding spoons?” “Oh-ho, Vince, we haven’t any spoons for that sort of thing. Wooden spoons, though, we do have—top drawer by the fridge.” Jones could have sworn he’d checked that drawer already, but when he looked again, a spoon had appeared, lying coyly between the can opener and the vegetable peeler. “Cheers.” The cooking went largely without incident, though the spoon kept trying to sneak off with a dish that was lurking about the perimeter with a tiny knapsack. Jones finally had to lock the dish in with the whisks just so he could get anything done. He brought Howard a bowl of tikka masala and flopped down on the couch with him. “What are we watching?” Jones asked. “The news.” “Do we have to?” Howard chuckled and flipped over to a rerun of Colobos the Crab. “Only because you made dinner, though,” he grumbled good-heartedly. The tikka masala was good and Jones felt better than he had since this adventure started, and he fell asleep quite suddenly, fingers still around his empty bowl. -- Jones woke up eyeing the same lilac pillow that had greeted him the day before. It was a moment before he could remember where (or who) he was. He didn’t recall getting into bed last night, and had to assume that Howard had carried him. That, and the fact that his shoes and blouse had been removed (again, presumably by Howard), made him feel a bit squidgy about the head and he was tempted to go back to sleep to escape the feeling. But his mouth tasted like sorrow and he needed a wee. So Jones got up and prepared himself to face another day as Vince. -- He opted for a slightly less mortifying outfit for his second day “on the job” as it were. Vince owned several hundred brightly-coloured t-shirts, so Jones figured Vince must wear them at least occasionally, and that it would be alright for Jones-as-Vince to wear one, too. Jones tried to fluff his hair as slowly as possible, but he had run out of things to keep him busy by half nine, so he made himself some tea. “Alright?” he asked Howard when he got downstairs. Howard looked at the clock and then at Jones. “What are you doing in so early?” “I woke up early.” Howard waited expectantly. “A woodchuck…came in through my window…and told me I had to…get up early?” Jones had never said anything so stupid in his whole life. But Howard seemed to accept the statement. “Well, good. You’re just in time to help me reorganize the stoppered bottles in the cabinet.” Two hours later, after shifting some 600 bottles about in a glass-front cabinet (bottles that often shifted right back when Jones wasn’t looking, so they had to be moved two or three times, cheeky bastards), Jones decided that if he ever saw a decorative glass bottle again, he’d smash it. Possibly against his own head. Howard closed the cabinet door. “Captain cabinets, trapped in cabinets,” Howard chanted, grinning mischievously at Jones. Jones backed away slowly. “Um?” “Can he get…out…Vince, are you feeling alright?” Jones had backed in the coat stand. “I guess not.” “Come on, it’s time for lunch. I’ll make you a Panini.” “Cheers, Howard.”

Howard frightened away most of the customers that came in during the afternoon with his overeager smile that showed too many teeth and his story about a pencil case, but Jones wasn’t bothered. He helped close up (much to Howard’s surprise), and they went down to the chip shop to pick up dinner. Jones was stretched out on the floor, sucking the salt off his fingers when Howard asked, “Round of cards, Vince?” holding up a deck with cartoon peacocks on the back. “Go Fish?” Howard laughed. “Get ready to lose, little man!” Go Fish was the only card game Jones knew how to play. Dan had once tried to teach him how to play poker; Jones had understood about the pairs and three-of-a-kinds, but got all muddled over houses and straights, and Dan had given up. Jones had wished he were cleverer, so he could make Dan stay and play with him, just make him stay at the kitchen table across from him and have a bit of a laugh. But Howard seemed content to play cards for hours, arsing his way through round after round of Go Fish, mostly losing, crowing and bragging wildly when he won—“I’ve won again! I’m king of fishing! A legend among men!”—and Jones laughed and joked and cheated just a bit to keep things interesting. At half eleven, Howard rubbed his hand over his eyes. “Good times, Vince, good times. Go Fish reminds me of the zoo.” Howard smiled wistfully. “Good times.” Jones shuffled his cards. “Yeah…the zoo.” “Thank you for spending time with me today, Vince. It was nice.” “Of course, Howard—you’re my best mate, right?” Jones reached across the fishpond and touched Howard’s wrist. Howard jerked at the touch but Jones held on tighter. “And I had a nice time today, too.” Jones knew somewhere in the back of his head that he shouldn’t kiss Howard, but he was all muddled from the stress of pretending to be someone he didn’t even know, and by how Howard was like Dan but nicer and sillier and how that made Jones miss grumpy impatient Dan all the more. So of course Jones kissed Howard anyway. Howard’s pulse skittered under Jones’ fingers, and Howard’s lips were unsure against Jones’, but his eyes were screwed up with nervous wanting and his moustache was tickly. Jones wondered if Dan’s scruffy cheeks would tickle like that. Soon there was a bit of needy huffing, and tongues were introduced into the proceedings, and Howard got his hand into Jones’ hair and Jones crawled over the fishpond to get his arms around Howard’s shoulders. “Vince, oh Vince,” Howard said breathlessly when Jones stroked his fingers along Howard’s jaw. And then Jones had to stop. Howard looked a bit lost when Jones pulled away. “Vince?” Fuck. “Howard. I’m…you and…we need to talk. But not right now. Maybe tomorrow.” “You’re just going to mock me and toss me aside again, aren’t you?” Again? Vince and Howard obviously had serious issues. Issues that Jones had just made more serious. “I…no. Just...we’ll talk.” And Jones kissed Howard lightly one more time before standing up and walking out of the room.

Jones wiggled back into his own clothes because he felt trapped and itchy in a stranger’s clothes. Bowie stared at Jones from his poster. “Fuck off, Bowie. I’m not him.” “What about Bowie?” Jones looked over at the window, where his face peered in at him. “Alright.” “Alright.” “Could you open the window?” Jones pushed the window fully open. Except for the god awful outfit—something orange with diamantes (Jones could almost hear Dan pulling out his hair over it)—the man who climbed in the window might have been Jones himself. “Vince?” “Cheers. And who’re you?” “Jones. All the…trouble sorted out, then?” Vince laughed. “For now,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Everything go alright here?” Jones thought for a moment before he responded. “Well, Howard gave me something, but it was meant for you.” “Really? Can I have it?” And then Jones really had no choice but to step up to Vince and kiss him on the lips. Jones stepped back. “Oh.” “It went on a bit longer and there was more tongue, but I’ll keep that bit.” “Oh.” Jones nibbled at his thumbnail. “I told him we’d talk about it tomorrow. But by ‘we’ I meant the him ‘n the real Vince. I hope that’s OK.” Vince looked down at the vanity. “I like the hair product club scene you’ve set up,” he smiled. “Vince, Howard’s really…well, he’s rubbish at cards and he only has the one story ‘bout a pencil case, but he makes toast and lets you sleep in and thinks you’re pretty amazing. Even when it’s not really you but some hack who’ s playin’ you.” Vince looked at Jones for a long moment before nodding. “Yeah.” Then Vince smiled. “Yeah.” “Oi, ballbags, let’s get a move on!” the tiny man shouted from outside the window. “Oh, right—you can go home now. Thanks for this, though.” Vince stuck out his hand and Jones shook it. “Cheers.” The tiny man stuck his turbaned head in the window. “Move it along; we’ve only just got enough juice to get you home.” “Good luck with Howard,” Jones called as he climbed out the window and onto the magic carpet floating outside the window (because this story had to end just as ridiculously as it started, Jones reasoned). As he found his balance behind the gorilla and the tiny man, he remembered something, and leaned back in the window. “Also, Howard thinks you can cook now, so he might be expecting you to make up some tikka masala one day.” As the carpet lifted into the night sky, all of Dalston heard Vince’s cry. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?”

[parkjmini]

runaway bride | 02

park jimin running away from your own wedding was only the beginning of your long check list to finally get Park Jimin to realize you two were fated to be word count: 3609 genre: angst/fluff warnings: explicit language 

01 . 02 

a/n: im going to la next week guys so idk when ill be able to find time to update !! )):: but good news is that im going to LA to see BTS’ concert which makes me so happy omggomggg

The soft buzzing noise of Jimin’s fridge cause you to stir in your sleep. A sharp pain hit the back of your neck. Groaning, your eyes peeked open to see Jimin’s cheek pressed into his dining table. A small puddle of drool pooled around his open, snoring mouth. You stretched and yawned at the early morning. 

His curtains were stained a light blue and it was significantly colder than it was last night. Small goosebumps rose on your arm and you laid your chin on your hand. Watching Jimin sleep peacefully made your heart warm and fuzzy. Your fingers itched to brush the loose strands over his closed eyes or to run your knuckles across his smooth skin.

He was everything you’ve ever wanted. There were many things that you loved about Jimin, but the one characteristic that stuck out the most is his selfless personality. It was a love-hate relationship, but mostly love. He gave up a lot of himself for the people he loved. 

The most prominent memory is Cynthia. They had broken up for almost two months, but she had been laid off for a few weeks and couldn’t afford her rent. Jimin offered his place for her to stay until she was able to get back on her feet. At first, the idea seemed absolutely bizarre to you because she was his ex. She was someone who broke his heart ruthlessly, yet he still cared so much about her.

You thought it was probably because he still loved her, but Jimin had started seeing his current girlfriend, Janet. It was a good thing that she wasn’t the jealous type and actually bonded very well with Cynthia. They’re best friends to this day and it was all thanks to Jimin. You have never gotten close with his girlfriends, mainly because you couldn’t help but fume whenever they got in proximity to you. 

However, the selfless act that bothered you the most was when Jimin gave you up. That’s right. You and Jimin were single for a brief moment in time. You had gotten hired at the company that was good partners with the one Jimin worked at. He often joked about how it was his way of keeping you close by, but you wanted to believe it. 

You and Jimin had become close friends, thanks to all the past connections, it wasn’t long before you joined him on late night wine talks and lunch breaks. You knew he felt the connection you two shared. Lunch breaks became thick with anticipation, waiting for him to brush his hand against yours, or if he’d offer to walk you back to your building. Wine talks had become a little too honest, where he had shamelessly admitted to wanting to kiss you. 

You two were beginning to recognize your feelings for each other and your feelings were actually much deeper than what you had thought. You had always been harboring emotions for Jimin, but this time was when they had become the strongest and stayed that way. Jimin had become flirtatious and had even asked you to be his date for his company party. It had all been going well until the night of the party.

Jimin’s attitude towards you changed in the middle of the night. He had stopped trying to hold your hand and he stood a couple of inches away from you. He had reverted back to his friend-like speech. You had racked your brain to remember if it had been something you had done, but it hit when he introduced you to his coworker, Michael.

Michael had spotted you walking across the room and had been asking all around about who you were. He had stumbled across Jimin and began pestering him to introduce you two, like to act as his wing-man. You weren’t sure what chemical imbalance caused Jimin to agree and you’d never understand why he didn’t tell Michael that you were his date for the night. The only reason you could sum up was that Jimin that selfless to give up someone he liked for someone else he cared for. 

The more you approached Jimin about what happened that night, the more he’d shut himself off. You didn’t want to lose him as a friend and you weren’t sure how many more times he was going to reappear in your life if you did. So, you let it go and started your relationship with Michael. 

You remembered the anger you felt for that week and the sadness that occupied your heart. There was nothing more you could do. By the time you were getting sick of Michael, Jimin was already seeing Janet and the window of opportunity closed. You were left with your lunch breaks and wine talks, but even those didn’t last longer after their relationship officially started.

Jimin’s figure began to rumble and his snoring came to a halt. “Good morning.” You called with your hoarse voice. He grumbled and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

“Mmh, good morning.” His voice sounded so sexy, with the right amount of deep and raspy. “How long have you been staring at me, weirdo?” He only had one eye open as he rubbed the other one awake.

“Long enough to watch your drool spill off the table.” You joked and a panicked Jimin jumped up to examine the trail of saliva. Your laughter contrasted his annoyed expression, “oh, you’re the worst.” He chuckled and found a napkin to clean it up.

“I’m surprised you’re not even the slightest embarrassed about me knowing you drool.” You crossed your arms and he peered up at you.

“Well, you’re you and I don’t mind.” 

“Does Janet know?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “no, because I wake up before her. You’re the only person I know that gets up before me.” 

“Early bird---”

“---gets the worm.” Jimin finished your sentence for you and topped it off with a sly grin. “Stop using my life quotes. You’re completely unoriginal.”

“Don’t finish my sentences as if we’re a couple.” Once those words left your mouth, the room felt stiff. Jimin came to a complete pause before walking into his kitchen. You helped him place the dirty wine glasses in his sink and it was mostly silent. “Sorry.”

“Apologizing makes it more awkward.” Jimin laughed and grabbed your wrist. The contact caused your heart to pound against your rib cage. He smoothed open your palm and placed the small capsule in the middle of it. “For the neck pain and the headache you’ll feel.” He handed you a glass of water and you looked up at him. 

A part of you felt guilty for making flirtatious comments at Jimin. They were always a hit or a miss. Your mind couldn’t stop the phrases from leaving your mouth, he made everything too comfortable for boundaries. There were times when it would make the atmosphere extremely awkward or Jimin would say something witty back. 

“I don’t want to see Michael today.” You groaned after swallowing the painkiller. 

“That’s how I feel about Janet sometimes.” Jimin said and you couldn’t tell if he actually meant it. “She gets on my case about drinking too much. I drink for fun, not for comfort.” 

“She’s trying to stop you from being an alcoholic.” You laughed and followed him to his room. The glamorous wedding dress haunted you as you walked in. It was a shock to you, reminding you of the events of yesterday. Jimin casually walked past it to his phone on his nightstand. 

Jimin saw you idly staring at the dress, “you can keep that here, you know. You don’t have to drag it back with you and have it haunt you forever.”

“How could I do that to you? Just leave my wedding dress at another man’s house.” You groaned and plopped onto Jimin’s gigantic mattress. His face suddenly appeared in front of you, replacing the white ceiling above. Your eyes widen at the second time he’s gotten too close to you. 

“It’s nice to know that you still see me as a man.” He smirked above you. 

You pushed his face away and sat up, catching your breath. “Of course. Michael never shut up about how he didn’t like me spending so much time with you, another man.” 

Jimin’s phone rang before he could reply to you. “I had my phone in my room the entire night and I was in the dining room. It was on silent, babe, I’m sorry.” 

You frowned at how upset he got and he rolled his eyes, “...yes.... I know.... no, don’t worry.....” He cleared his throat before blinking away from you, “yeah, she’s with me. Yeah, I’m aware that she ran away from her own wedding........ well, she’s not the bad person here, Janet. You don’t know why she did it......”

They were fighting about you and you walked over to your hanging dress. You took it off of the rod and shoved the huge thing all the way in the back of Jimin’s closet. You didn’t want to see it anymore. It was a looming mistake and the pearls on it didn’t let you forget it.

“.....Michael’s a complete ass.... okay, okay... I don’t want to fight about this with you...... nothing happened... Janet! This isn’t about me, what are you saying? (Y/N) had her reasons to leave and it’s not because of me. You have to drop that theory that you have about her being in love with me....... I have work. I have work, babe..... we both have work... I’m not having a secret rendezvous with her.” You leaned against the door frame and watched as Jimin flailed his arms everywhere.

After a few more no’s and yes’s, he hung up with a sweet goodbye and tossed his phone onto the bed. He got up and stormed to his cabinets. “Well.... how did it go....?”

“We’re going on a secret rendezvous.” He said as he looked you dead in the eye, catching you off by surprised yet again.  

-

The car ride with Jimin was dead silent. He had dropped you off to change, not specifying where he was taking you. “Just dress light and comfortable, you don’t need to do much to impress me.” Was all he had said before you went up to change.

Jimin pulled into the parking lot surrounding by tall, swaying trees. “We’re going hiking... that is your idea of a secret rendezvous?” You groaned as you watched the wind cause the forest to dance. 

He rolled his eyes before getting out and getting his backpack out from the trunk. “Before you judge me, give it a chance. Fresh air helps me think, keeps my blood flowing. Plus, no one will find us here. It’s my special space, so don’t you dare expose it to anyone.”

“Trust me, I definitely wouldn’t be able to tell them how to get up here. I don’t even know where we are.” You laughed and zipped up your jacket.

It was a nice early morning. The time when people start getting up for work or school. Everyone moves so fast during this hour, they never stop to think about everything around them. The air was crisp and cold, chilling your nostrils as you inhaled deeply. Since you lived out in the city, the fresh air pushed all the smog out of your system and relaxed your entire body. You felt lighter, calmer, and centered. 

The hike wasn’t long. You two walked up hills to stumble upon a clearing of yellow grass. An astonishing view took your breath away. It was the entire skyline of the city you loved. Jimin peered over at your cute astonishment and hid the small smile that appeared on his face. He pulled out a blanket from his backpack and laid it for you two to sit. “I wish you brought breakfast...”

“You really underestimate me, (Y/N)..” Jimin laughed as he pulled out two objects covered in aluminum foil. You couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face as you unwrapped the homemade breakfast. It was two toaster waffles stuck together with peanut butter and jelly. 

The moment the sweetness hit your palette, the heavy memories flooded your mind. Your ex-best friend made this for you all the time in college. You were always too busy for breakfast, so she always made extra for you to grab on the go. “I can’t believe you still make these.”

“It was a very valuable hack I learned and I knew she made them for you practically everyday.” Jimin grinned as jelly marked his lips.

You rolled your eyes at his messy eating habits and reached over to wipe his lips with your thumb. Jimin paused at your action and examined you with wide eyes. His reaction caused you to realize what you had done, blushing at your mistake. “Why were you so mad on the phone with Janet? I know you didn’t take me up here to eat pb&j waffle sandwiches with you.” You tried to switch the mood and move on. Your eyes were glued on the tops of skyscrapers ahead. 

He cleared his throat, “she was upset that I wasn’t answering my phone after I left to look for you.... and because I was with you last night, alone.” 

“Okay, but we’ve been alone plenty times before. Janet never came off as the jealous type.” 

Jimin rose an eyebrow at you and looked at you as if you were a complete idiot. “She’s usually not the jealous type, but for some reason... it’s only you who she’s jealous over.” 

You panicked and turned to face him with utter shock. “Me? Me? The Wondrous, Beautiful, and Intelligent Janet is jealous of me?" You almost choked on your waffle sandwich, coughing up a big fit.

He laughed at how surprised you were, "She thinks that you're in love with me or something like that --- I don't know --- it's stupid and weird."

This was the moment you really started to panic. Your nerves twisted and turned horribly, your throat ran dry. Jimin glanced over at your quiet figure and nervously chuckled. "You're not--not still in love with me, right?"

You gulped, gathering enough courage to speak. to confirm that you weren't. to lie that you didn't still wonder how his lips feel. to deny any feelings you had for him. to not believe that you two were fated to be. to forget that you just ran away from your wedding for him. Your throat felt tight now, as if it started to collapse on itself. Your palms were slick with sweat and you could swear that that your heart was running at 100 miles per hour. "Jimin, what we had between us happened so long ago."

"(Y/N), that doesn't answer my question." You hated when Jimin got serious. "I asked if you still love me."

You tried to distract yourself with your phone, but you had no signal. He was getting harder to avoid. "Does she know? Does Janet know about what happened between us?"

Jimin sighed in disbelief. "You always do this. You avoid my questions when I'm trying to talk to you. I can never get to you, you know that? And it frustrates me because I don't know what you're thinking or feeling."

"Like you don't do that too." You rolled your eyes.

"I don't do that to you and you know that. I'd do anything you'd ask me to."

"That is an absolute lie." You stared him dead in the eye and a chill ran down your spine.

"Why did you run away from your wedding?" Jimin asked and the calm breeze brushed against your cheek.

You finished the last bite of your breakfast and exhaled slowly, "because I couldn't marry someone I didn't love, Jimin."

"So who do you love?" You snapped your head at him and he blinked back at you, not phased or bothered that he asked you such a personal question.

"I don't have to be in love with someone else to not be in love with another person. I fell out of love for Michael and I know I had said yes before, but I couldn't do that to him. It was me with him for the rest of our lives."

Jimin nodded, "Was it that you couldn't do that to him or you couldn't do that to yourself? There is someone you had in mind which is why you had the confidence to run away."

"I have the confidence to do more, I just won't." You mumbled, but Jimin caught on.

"Why not?" He was quick to press on about your statement.

You poked at his arm, "I asked you before. Does Janet know about what happened between us?" Truthfully, nothing ever actually happened. It just felt as if something had happened. like something should've happened. But if Jimin didn’t deny that something had happened, it meant that he felt the same emotions you had.

“All she knows is that I use to like you.” He admitted and you tried wiping the wetness from your hands on your jeans.

“That’s why she’s so jealous!” You felt like a million eyes were off of you, like a whole load was lifted from your shoulders. “Because I was the only girl in your life that you never got and she’s afraid you’d try to pursue me.” All of what you were saying was a joke, halfheartedly. It was a part of the wholehearted banter you had with Jimin, but you really wished it was real. You wished that it was true.

“She’s afraid you’re trying to pursue me because you’re into me, silly. Not the other way around.” He laughed, rattling your heart. 

Janet had no reason to think that. You never made your feelings obvious. The flirty comments were jokes to Jimin, even if you meant majority of them. Your actions and word choice were all friend-like around her. You’ve never tried to kiss Jimin or purposely get him alone with you. It was always Jimin who offered to hang out with you alone. It was him who told you how much he wanted to kiss you that one wine night. 

“Well, if I was trying to pursue you, you would’ve been able to tell by now. We’ve known each other way before Janet came into the picture, so I don’t know what all the fuss is about. She’s overreacting. She has no reason to be jealous of little ole me. I’m nothing compared to her grand smarts and cunning personality.” Even water had become difficult to swallow. Everything was a big horrible lie. 

His beautiful laugh trembled your bones again, “don’t compare yourself to her. You’re incomparable.” The scariest part is that you didn’t know if Jimin was serious or if you were still a joke to him.

There was a brief moment of comfortable silence. You and Jimin sat together on the blanket and simply existed in the fast paced city below. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the conversation you just had with Jimin, so the small anxiety lingered after. You needed to clear your mind and finally find enough air to fill your lungs again. Silence was what you needed. You needed time to process and analyze his questions and reactions. Then, you needed to release every horrible feeling from your chest. Jimin really knew the perfect places. 

“We have work.” Was all you could say in the situation as Jimin wondered about the world ahead of him. He marveled in the view in front of him. You two probably sat there for almost an hour. 

“We’re having this big party tomorrow night and I’d like you to be there.” He took a quick swig of water and you were mesmerized by how his adam’s apple bobbed. His jawline was so sharp and you had to fight the urge to take him in your arms.

“What is this party for? Is it a dress up or dress down party?” You asked as you two started packing up. You helped Jimin fold up his blanket and gathered up the trash.

“I got promoted and it’s definitely a dress up party. Janet rented out this ridiculous event center to hold a small get together. We’ll have drinks and all that good stuff. The whole company will be there. It was also to congratulate your wedding, but I’m sure everyone knows the ordeal.” Jimin led the way back to the car and you thought harder about actually attending.

“Okay, um, wow. First, congratulations on your promotion. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about that. Secondly, are old coworkers going to be there too?” You were referring to Michael. Michael had left the company a while ago to help out at his dad’s business, but he was still warmly welcomed back. 

Jimin turned to smile at you, “before you get offended, I didn’t tell you because you were stressed out about your wedding. I was going to tell you after the reception, you know, the part where we all move into the banquet room and have dinner. But that never happened. And, I’ll make sure he won’t be there.” 

You nodded, even though Jimin couldn’t see. It was a mutual understanding and simply the bond you two shared. If there was something that bothered you, he was the first to know about it.... that is, until your wedding day. After the whole fiasco, he realized that he was never entirely aware as to what bothered you, at least, not what bothered you the most. 

[evolutionsvoid]

If you are reading this now, it means that you have found the book. I have done my best to hide it, but I knew that someday, someone would find it amongst my possessions. I cannot know who is reading this now, be it my children, my grandchildren or perhaps someone else entirely. In the end, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you heed my warning. Though it is just an ancient book, it is a dangerous thing. The knowledge within it is not the real danger. What you should fear is what it can summon. It was a lesson I learned when I was just a young boy.

           When I was young, our family’s farm was not doing well. The growing seasons always seemed to be poor, and our crop yields were low. With our meager harvests, we were just barely getting by. Those years were rough, especially during the long winters. It was a heavy weight that sat upon the whole family, but I know it hung the heaviest on my father. He felt that the whole family’s well being was his responsibility, and he was failing everyone. It was his lands that bore little fruit, his hard work that came up empty each time. He did everything that he could, but it wasn’t nearly enough. His farm was failing, as was his brother’s. My father’s brother owned the fields near ours, and he was faring no better. The two had split up the land that they inherited from their own father, looking to support their family with their share. With how things were going, both families were equally suffering. That was until one strange season.

           One summer, my dad came into the house one day and talked to my mother about his brother’s fields. He was saying that his crop was coming up quite early, and his fields were looking green. Sure enough, when we went out to look, his fields were indeed thriving. Young green plants were bursting from the soil, which was a great improvement from the past years. Our fields looked pitiful in comparison, and I am sure that was what my father was thinking about all day. He talked to his brother about this apparent success, but he claimed he didn’t do anything different. “Must finally be my year,” he cheerfully said, happy to at last have things going for him. For us children, we saw this as a wonderful sign. Surely that would mean our fields would be next. Our fields would be just as green and lively as his sometime soon. They just had to. My father, though, was not so naive. I remember the sour look on his face as he walked back to the house that day. That wasn’t the only thing that stuck in my mind from that day, though. When I was looking over the ripe, green field, I remember seeing a scarecrow posted in the middle. Standing tall over the young crop, a sentinel against the crows and pests. At the time, I believed he had put it up to protect his crops. Now that he finally had some good growth, he didn’t want the crows to ruin it all for him. It turned out, it wasn’t all that simple.

           As the weeks went on, our family watched his fields grow in health and size. All while our fields struggled to match them. At first, my dad tried to appear happy for his brother. He would say that they deserved to have such a good break. That he was glad that his brother would have a good yield this year. Deep inside, though, we knew it tore him up. To have such success openly mocking him. His brother didn’t say such things; it was his fields that did all the talking. They stood tall and proud while his lands failed him. All his hard work coming to squat, while his brother’s efforts bringing absolute victory. When the time harvest came, his brother filled dozens of wagons with his crop. His store rooms were filled to bursting, and his purse soon followed suit when he went to market. Our family was nowhere close to such success. We could hardly afford to sell our own crop, because it was the only food we had to survive the winter. While we reaped the fields, I remember seeing my dad stare over at his brother’s property from time to time. Even a hardened man like him couldn’t overcome the jealousy. It got even worse when his brother came over and offered to help our family out. Some food, some money, anything we needed to help make it through the coming winter. To our family, they were gifts. To my father, it was a stab to the gut. Of course he accepted the help, because he wanted the best for his family. To have another man take better care of his own family then he could was soul-crushing. My mother did her best to assure him, but it did very little. I was afraid that the guilt would kill him before any winter chill could.

           That bountiful harvest turned out to not be some freak accident. The next year, my uncle had another massive crop and the following years brought the same. Their poor, struggling family was now rolling in the wealth, at least to us. He used his new found luck to buy more land and goods. Their crumbling barn was renovated, and their house gained a few extra rooms. Their three children now went out of town for schooling, while we remained to care for the fields. While my uncle gained new wealth and lands, he lost his humbleness. There were some days when I wondered if he remembered we were related. Surely someone so successful wouldn’t be tied to such lowly peasants. As his brother grew more boastful, my father grew to despise his success more vocally. No matter where we were at, be it at the dinner table or in the fields, he always had a harsh word to say about his brother. He refused anything his brother tried to give us, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He didn’t want any of his sympathy or his help. My father wanted nothing to do with it.

           One year, though, things started to change. It was the year that my uncle sought to build a new house for his family. They had people working around the clock building their new home. They even had to move some boxes of their own stuff into our barn while construction progressed. Father raised a lot of ruckus when that happened. Their old farmhouse was run down and old, it needed replacing. If you asked my dad, he would claim that his brother was doing this because he didn’t want his family to look poor. Their farmhouse was too dirty and plain to be worthy, so it had to go. They needed new and flashy, they needed the opulence. I don’t know if that was the reason or not, but my father was sure of it. He hated his successful brother like the devil. He wished that God would come down one day and strike some humility into the greedy man. It seemed someone heard his words.

           It started with some things going missing. His kids came to our doorstep asking if we had “borrowed” some of their tools. My father was furious at the accusations; my mom had to stop him from stomping over to his brother’s house and dragging him out by his ears. We had nothing to do with their missing tools, but that soon became the least of their worries. Other sorts of bad luck began to plague them. A blight came to their crops, bringing wither and rot to them. What cattle they had began to grow sick, and their henhouse was raided by some nocturnal predator. Not long after, their oldest son broke his arm. He had been up in the barn when the floorboards broke beneath him. Which was odd for such a new barn. When we heard these stories, we secretly smiled at their misfortune. While we weren’t doing any better, at least they weren’t having it so easy. I know my father enjoyed every one of them. He wouldn’t show it, but I know at night he would go to sleep with a smile on his face. Someone was knocking his brother down a peg, and he loved every second of it.

           Things took a bizarre turn when my uncle came to our doorstep one night, begging to see our father. He was frantic, I remember him having a wild, desperate look in his eye. Though my father hated his brother, he was concerned with his distress. The two went into the house to talk, leaving the business between men. Though the kids were not allowed to hear, I snuck outside to listen by the window. I just had to know what terrified my uncle so. The first thing I heard was my father arguing with his brother. My uncle had asked to buy our entire harvest, every bit of it. My father was sure it was some cruel joke, some kind of mockery of our situation. We needed that food for ourselves. To sell it all would leave our pantries empty for the winter. His brother claimed we could just use the money to buy more food, but my father refused. This seemed to throw my uncle into an even greater panic. He practically demanded to have our harvest, no matter how much money it cost. He said that “they” needed to be paid, like he was in some kind of debt. My father scoffed at this and told him to give them his money if he was so ready to throw it away. My uncle cried out that “money means nothing to them.” I remember being so confused by that statement. Why would someone not want money? You could buy anything you wanted with it! It seemed strange for debt collectors to not want money. My father told him to use his own crop, but his brother claimed he had already sold too much. No one else around had enough alone to “make the payment.” He needed to buy every bit he could find to break even, and if my father refused he would be a “dead man.” My father angrily refused any offer he gave, unwilling to help his brother in the slightest. He figured it was time my uncle learned a lesson. Perhaps now he would learn some humility. At that point, his brother practically lost his mind. My father threw him out our door and told him to never come back. If he saw him steal a single ear of corn, my father would nail his hide to the barn.

           I told my siblings about this panicked confrontation, and we were all curious about what was going on. We came up with the idea that our uncle owed money to some mob leader or something. Some loan man that gave him the funds to build this brand new house. Now his goons had come to collect, and he was empty handed. What didn’t make sense, though, was the idea that they didn’t accept money. What thug didn’t want money? We couldn’t figure it out, but we all made sure to keep an eye on our uncle’s property the next day. We didn’t want to miss the show.

           The following day, our curiosity paid off. We watched our uncle run out into his dying fields, out to the scarecrow that stood amongst the rotting crop. I was confused by his actions. What did he want with an old, worn scarecrow? It had been stuck in the field for years, what could it possible offer? It surely didn’t have anything of value. My sister joked that he was going to try hiding in the scarecrow so the collectors couldn’t find him. It was funny at the moment, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. He started screaming at the dummy, spraying it with curses and swears we were too young to understand. He stomped and fumed at the thing, jabbing his finger at it and making all sorts of noise. Obviously, the scarecrow said nothing in return, and that somehow offended him. In frenzy, he tore the scarecrow from its post and flung it to the ground. He kicked it and stomped on it, screaming to the heavens as he did. We laughed at him, it seemed so comical. He was fighting a man made of straw and burlap. It didn’t exactly seem like a fair fight. To finish the assault off, he brought out a torch and lit the scarecrow up. The dried dummy went up in an instant, consumed in flame. At last, a sense of calm came to our uncle and he disappeared back into his house. We did not see him the rest of the day. We told our father about the odd behavior, but he didn’t comment much about it. I wonder if it made him think of the night before. Was this threat his brother was ranting about truly real? I didn’t know, as my father said little else about the situation. Perhaps there was some truth to his crazed words. When night fell, that uncertainty quickly vanished.

           I remember waking up in the middle of the night, for what reason, I didn’t know. Something just seemed wrong when I was roused. As if I could feel a storm brewing before it even arrived. The air itself felt wrong, and I wondered what was going on. My room was still dark, lit only by the glowing moon outside. My siblings were still asleep in their beds; I was the only one who had been disturbed. Everything around me seemed in place, so I decided to take a look outside. Perhaps something outside was the source of it all. I got out of my bed and went to the window. I didn’t see anything near our home, so I turned my eyes to my uncle’s property. His fields were cut and harvested; only a few sparse stands of stalks remained. The fields were not empty though. There were figures standing in the dirt, beings who were slowly stalking their way to the new farmhouse. I was too far away to make them out, but something seemed off about them. Their silhouettes were all wrong, their shapes didn’t seem human. I was terrified by the sight, but was drawn to it just the same. It was so bizarre; it had to be a dream. Perhaps that was why I had the courage to creep outside and take a closer look. I didn’t think it was real, I thought it was all just some strange nightmare. I slipped out the window, leaving my sleeping siblings behind. I slunk my way through the weeds and crept to a hiding spot where I could get a better look. At last, I could make out the figures that stood in my uncle’s fields. What I saw was so outlandish; my mind couldn’t even believe they were real.

           His fields were filled with scarecrows, of all shapes and sizes. Creatures scrapped together by cloth, metal, straw and bone. Some walked like men, some stalked about like animals, and others were too alien to understand. Heads made of bags, buckets and skulls. Limbs crafted from wood, rope and metal. Some skittered on spidery legs, while other squirmed through the soil on boneless tendrils. They filled the fields, seemingly appearing from nowhere. All heads were turned to my uncle’s house, and they all lurched their way to the house. The creaking and squeaking of their limbs filled the night air, and a strange murmuring sound seemed to resonate from their false throats. A violent crashing sound startled me, and I realized that the first wave of scarecrows reached the house. They were all armed with farm tools, each of them coated in a layer of dirt and rust. They smashed their weapons against the doors, tearing at the wood that stood between them and their victims. The windows shattered as other attackers breached the house. As the junk-built puppets climbed into the broken windows, I heard a piercing scream come from within. The family was now awake, and they were trapped in the middle of a very real nightmare.

           The screams and cries within the house didn’t bother the scarecrows in the least. Their assault continued on as they ripped through the doors and walls. I couldn’t hear much over the chaos, but I was sure a struggle was taking place within. Suddenly, the scarecrows pulled away from the house, as if it was a cornered animal ready to strike. Those that had gone into the house now poured from the broken orifices. A group of the fleeing scarecrows held something between them. It was a torn red thing, reminiscent of a slaughtered cow. I knew it was not an animal, but I refused to accept it. The scarecrows had retreated into a circle around the house, creating an impenetrable wall of straw men. Had they claimed what they wanted, or were they waiting for something else? My answer came from a shudder in the earth. Somewhere in the darkness, the soil and plants surged and boiled. A great form erupted from the earth, and stomped its way to the encircled house. The scarecrows parted their masses to allow it passage to the trapped inhabitants. It was a scarecrow like them, but massive in size. Its face was flat and wooden; there were no eyes or mouth. Torn clothes hung from its frame and barbed wire entwined every limb. It was its hands that caught my eye. The fingers were blades of all shapes and sizes. Axes, sickles and swords that whirred and chopped the air. Without hesitation, the giant abomination plowed its way into the house, shattering the wooden walls as if they were glass. The screams grew louder, but they couldn’t overtake the crunching of wood and the shearing of planks. The other instrument that joined this horrid symphony was laughter. The scarecrows were laughing and joking as the monstrosity tore its way through the home. This nightmare was just a fun outing for them.

           Something ran past my hiding spot as I stared at the carnage. For a second I thought of running back to the house, but I was afraid I would give myself away if I moved. I buried myself deeper in the weeds, searching for the creature that passed by. The startling arrival wasn’t by some animal or scarecrow, but by my father. Still in his night clothes, he ran through the field to the house of his brother. He was armed with an ax, and was yelling something out to the beings that encircled the home. I was shocked to see my father, as I had assumed this strange dream only involved me. How was he here amongst all this? His charge forth faltered as he caught sight of his enemies. Never had he imagined facing a foe so warped and strange. He screamed something at them, and resumed rushing to his brother’s aid. One scarecrow broke away from the crowd and approached him. He raised his ax to cut down his opponent. An arm no thicker than a broom stick swung out and sent him tumbling back like a rag doll. He scrambled in the dirt, trying to regain his bearings when the scarecrow came up to him and yanked the ax from his hands. He tried to fight back, but a swift kick from a cow bone leg caused him to fly back even farther. The rickety being just turned around and rejoined its brethren. Just as it did, a few scarecrows in the front burst into flame. Their brothers stood beside them with lit torches, striking the burning scarecrows with the burning ends. With a cackle, these flaming beings sprinted to the crumbling household and flung themselves inside. Within seconds, the entire house burst into flames. The chaos inside the house had died down, and the massive scarecrow exited the building as the flames claimed it. In its claws were two squirming figures. It dropped them to the ground, and the scarecrows swarmed. They grabbed the prisoners and began to drag them to the fields. The giant being raised its claws in the air, and the moonlight flickered on its blood-soaked claws. It was then I finally screamed.

           I cried out at the horrible sight, of bloody blades and burning homes. Of my uncle and one of his sons who struggled to escape the clutches of the scarecrows. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping that the noise would wake me from this horrible nightmare. My father’s head whipped to my hiding spot, shocked by my presence. I was too scared to run, to even move from my spot. For a second, my father looked between me and his captured brother. Torn between two of his kin. With a cry, he turned away from his brother and ran to me. I caught a glimpse of his face before he swept me up in his arms. His eyes were wide and scared. My father, the man of stone, was terrified. He grabbed me and ran back to the house, never slowing for a moment. He didn’t dare look back at the gruesome scene, but I did.

           As my father fled, I looked back at the family we had abandoned. I saw the burning house and bloodied creature, but I caught sight of something worse. I saw the scarecrows that pulled the screaming humans behind them. They were lurching their way to the weeds and corn, which swayed wildly in the breezeless night. The one thing I will always remember is that they glowed. Something beyond the corn glowed with the light of the harvest moon. A sickening searing orange that burned like a world on fire. I gave one last scream as the scarecrows stepped into the blinding light and then I passed out.

           I woke the next morning, unable to recall anything that happened after my blackout. Our family quickly dressed and rushed outside. The fields were empty in the morning light, no life stirred. Our uncle’s house was a pile of ash and blackened wood, weak coils of smoke trailing from the torched remains. The ground was torn and stirred, as if an army had rushed through the fields. We searched the wreckage for any survivors, hoping that someone was spared during this nightmarish attack. We found no bodies in the burnt rubble. We searched the fields, hoping to find them. We finally did. Three posts were erected in the barren fields, each one baring a scarecrow of their own. Except these scarecrows were made from the family, or what little was left of them. They were the bodies of my aunt and two of her children. My uncle and his other child were not there. They weren’t anywhere. We spent hours searching the fields and the weeds. They were nowhere to be found. It was as if they had simply vanished from this world.

           It wasn’t until years later when I truly understood what had happened that night. I was an older boy then, searching through the junk in our barn for a replacement part. It was there I found the boxes. The crates that came from my uncle’s house before that horrid night claimed them. Curious, I rummaged through it. I don’t know what I hoped to find, but I certainly found something interesting. It was on old book, so old that I thought it would crumble in my grip. The paper was ancient and stained, the cover wrapped in dried corn husks. I opened it, wondering what it could possibly contain. It held the words of soil and root. It held the words of the scarecrows.

           What I learned from that book I shall not write here, you can easily read all that yourself. What I shall say is that you must be wary of the things that book promises. It speaks of ceremonies that can bring forth the scarecrows, to call a meeting with beings old as the earth itself. Of how you can make a deal with these beings, one that can make barren fields bountiful and failing crops thrive. The scarecrows can make such things happen, but this comes with a price. The scarecrows do not work for free, they require payment. A portion of the harvest must be sacrificed to them, so that the deal may continue. They care not for gold or coin; they seek the bounty of the fields. One must pay this price, lest the deal become void and the scarecrows reclaim what is theirs. My uncle was lured in by this deal, desperate for any path to success. He called forth the scarecrows and struck a bargain with them. They would make his fields bloom, and he would repay their services. It was a fair deal, until the infection of greed crept in. Until someone wanted more and more. Asking for more than they could pay. The scarecrows demand equal payment. They demand that their services be repaid. They demand that no harm comes to their emissaries. Each being who deals with the scarecrows is given an emissary, one who speaks to the crows. They are the ones who bring the crops and the growth. Those who ward away the pests and disease. Not a hand should be laid on these emissaries, lest the wrath of the scarecrows come down upon them.

           To whoever reads this, beware the scarecrows. They are beings older than you can imagine, and capable of more than you think. The deals they make are tempting, offering a way out for those in need. That is why I have not destroyed the book, because there may be a time when we truly need their help. When our family’s land is threatened by drought or debt, perhaps we shall make the same deal then. If that time does come, obey the laws of the scarecrows. Honor the deal. It seems like a perfect deal, one without flaw or loophole. There is a flaw though, and it is us. Scarecrows are incorruptible beings, but we are not.

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

Well, that went way longer than I thought! Sorry about that! If you somehow read all that, congrats!

And it is October! Halloween season! Lets get them scarecrows out!

[alexanderwrites]

Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 13

“What Story is That, Charlie?”

Last week, when we were given an episode that was slow, withholding with its information, and for many, very frustrating, I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t worried, because I knew it was just a strange, brief detour and that we should focus on the journey rather than the destination. I also didn’t worry because I thought the next episode would be better, and thankfully I was right. I’m no Angelo Badalamenti, so I won’t toot my own horn too much but I think now, hours after watching it, I’m realising that I was very right, because this isn’t just a better episode, but is one of the all time best Twin Peaks episodes. It keeps that steady pace, but there’s an alchemy of all the ingredients that’ve made this season so great, which tonight forms a cohesive, exciting and deeply involving hour of television. 

. It’s party time for the Mitchum brothers, and party time for the soundtrack producers who give us one of the wildest and weirdest cuts yet. I don’t know how to describe it other than it being a demented casino style nonsense song, and I might be wrong, but the percussion pattern sounds a lot like a sped up version of the drumming in The Bookhouse Boys, a track from the Season 1 soundtrack. It’s nice seeing Coop enjoying himself, and it’s funny how happy he has made the Mitchum brothers, Janey-E, and his boss. The fact that he can still manage this despite being a silent, largely unresponsive man who walks into glass doors, speaks to the innate happiness that Cooper has always brought people, only this time it’s accidental. People want him around, and I think it’d be quite a bittersweet ending if he does wake up and leave for Twin Peaks. Yes, it’d be satisfying for us, but Janey-E wouldn’t have her husband anymore, Sonny Jim wouldn’t have a dad, and The Mitchum Brothers wouldn’t have anyone to buy pie for. Before it becomes the Everybody Loves Dougie show, Anthony steps in to put an end to him, but even he can’t bring himself to poison Dougie to death! So Dougie-Coop has his sharp black suit, a black coffee and a piece of cherry pie. Whereas we once would’ve said “THIS will be what wakes him up!”, we’ve stopped expecting it and instead learned to enjoy the pleasure he takes in scoffing the stuff down. While it can feel melancholy when signifiers from his past edge him towards who he used to be, some of these episodes hint at the idea that maybe he’s happy where he is. We want him to get back to his old self, but do we want that for him or for us? He’s had the food and drink that he loves, he’s walking around amazed by everything, and even uncovered a considerable crime. Everything about him is there, really. And I’m beginning to feel like that’s enough for me. Then the Fusco Brothers attain a crucial piece of the puzzle that’d help get Cooper back home, decide to throw it out, and I laugh “FOR FUCK’S SAKE”. Dougie’s prints reveal that he was an FBI Agent and broke out of a maximum security prison, and away this is tossed because of its unlikeliness. It’s funny, really. Because it is unlikely, it is absurd, and that such an important fact has been discovered and thrown out immediately by the police is hilariously frustrating. I loved this moment, Eric Edelstein’s weird and distinctive laugh commenting on how ridiculous this all is.

. I love how adoringly Janey E looks at Cooper when she opens the car door for him. They’ve come a long way since she was angrily cramming him into the car, and it’s nice to see her not suffering the financial burden that the original Dougie left her in. Naomi Watts is really effective when painting Janey E as someone rediscovering feelings for her husband, and it’s actually kind of touching. And Sonny Jim’s Gym is so fucking bizarre. Why does it play music-box versions of Tchaikovsky? Why does it have a prison-style search light? Why anything? I love it.  

Continuing in the lovey-dovey, not-so-bad-after-all vein of things, this season has had a lot of characters turn out to be not quite as awful as you expect them to be. The Mitchum Brothers showed a kind of generosity, Ben Horne is an altruist, and Anthony has a breakdown in front of his boss and Dougie, claiming he wants to be a better man. I mean, you can’t call him a good person just because he didn’t MURDER COOPER, but it’s nice to get a variety of technically bad people who, when it boils down to it, don’t really want to be that bad. It’s not such a bad world after all, hey?

. Actually yes it because fucking Doppelcoop is on the warpath again, and this time he’s getting what he wants via arm wrestling, just like Sylvester Stallone in Over the Top. And just like Sly claims himself to be in Over The Top, Doppelcoop is a machine, and the amount of control he displays in this scene is really quite frightening. “It hurts when you had my arm like this. Let’s go back to starting position. It’s really much more comfortable”, he says, arm-wrestling a boss of a bunch of bastards so that he can get to bad old Ray. He demonstrates that he has the entire arm-wrestle under his control, and can position his arm wherever he wants without exerting force. He can win, and kill, without trying. This is who Doppelcooper is, and why he is such a formidable force. He rarely exerts power, but when he does it is effortless and unstoppable. He will get what he wants, and every piece of his journey has been carefully manipulated and decided by him, and that’s what this scene shows. The gang watching on heavily resemble the spirits above the convenience store in FWWM, and I think this is a purposeful visual metaphor, a way to tie them visually to the evil that lurks upstairs. When Doppelcoop wins, he gets Ray and the scene that follows is an immensely satisfying one. 

The ring that we’ve seen numerous times gets a visual explanation, sort of. Ray wears it when he is killed by Doppelcoop. It then disappears to the black lodge, where his soul shows up shortly after. It seems to say quite clearly that wear the ring when you die, and you end up on that famous zig zag floor, with fucking Mike. What a bummer he’d be to spend eternity with. Before Ray snuffs it, he talks about Phillip Jeffries, who sent Ray to kill Doppelcoop because he has something he wants, which is Bob, who is in hot demand this season. I’m glad to hear Jeffries mentioned again, and part of me still holds out hope that David Bowie filmed a super duper secret cameo before he passed away, but i’m not counting on it. Maybe the closest we’ll get to seeing him is that mysterious blinking box all those episodes ago. But, Ray claims that he was last seen at a place called The Dutchman’s, and this is all Doppelcoop needs to hear. Ray’s death feels big, not necessarily because he was an important character, but because they discuss Jeffries, the ring and Major Briggs, which all ties into the mythology of the show, a mythology which was also discussed last week with Albert. Now listen, i’m easily pleased when it comes to the Twin Peaks lore - say the words ‘lodge’, ‘blue book’ or even ‘Owl’ to me and i’ll begin jittering in excitement. I may even sick up. But this is more important and integral to the storyline that simply chucking out bits of lore, and that makes it so much fucking cooler. Doppelcoop is working towards it, the Bookhouse Boys are heading towards it and the FBI are heading towards it. The idea of them converging is too fucking exciting to process. So. Ray is dead (Nobody Loved Raymond), and Doppelcoop is on his way to either Twin Peaks via the coordinates that Ray gave him, or The Dutchman’s, wherever the hell that is. 

. Tim Roth and Jennifer Jason Leigh are still driving around and i’m guessing, will hook back up with Doppelcoop soon. Their scenes are usually very short, but they’re both such great actors that i’m fine to just hear them shoot the shit for a couple of minutes. 

. Back in Twin Peaks, Becky is still having domestic issues, and Shelly is still being a warm and kind Mum, telling Becky to get to the Double R and have some pie. It’s strange seeing her serving there all these years on, and strange seeing Bobby at the counter, especially because all the camera angles that used to capture the diner are absent, and we’re seeing the place in a completely different visual manner. It feels much more like a legitimate restaurant now, and this is developed with Norma discussing business options with who seems to be her boyfriend. So, no. She didn’t end up with Big Ed, and like Bobby watching Shelly and wondering what might’ve been, Ed watches Norma from a booth further down. He can see her clearly, but she’s a world away. There’s a deep melancholy in seeing Big Ed alone, things clearly not having worked out with either Norma or Nadine. The past, when things looked hopeful, feel like a million years ago, and everything has changed since then. Except for him. Bobby has grown up and become someone his father would’ve been proud of, Norma is franchising, Nadine has perfected the silent drapes. But Big Ed is still pining across the shiny tables for Norma like it’s 1990. 

And Norma is trying to keep things as they are, too. She’s encouraged to change the name of the restaurant, but she wants to keep it as it is, the way people know it. It’s an argument that summarises the attitude of The Return: do you give in and listen to what you’re being told people want, or do you follow your gut and make choices you are passionate about, in the way that you decide? Thank god Lynch and Frost didn’t listen to anyone. Norma knows what the Double R means to the people of the town, and she knows how much people need it, as a source of comfort and of solace. And she can franchise, and have restaurants popping up that try to be the real deal, but there’s really only one Double R, and there’s only one Twin Peaks. And in these scenes, that feeling of solace and comfort feels close yet a million miles away: unmistakably warm, but shot through with that heartrending, small town melancholy. There’s nothing quite like it.

(A little thing I noticed about Bobby - he says he found his dad’s old stuff “today” - but they found his stuff several episode ago, and since then Bobby has been seen at night. So is this Double R scene not chronological, and is actually set a few days back?)

. The reason that the comfort of the Double R feels somehow distant, unattainable and kind of false is because of scenes like Audrey’s in this episode. We can’t sit in the diner and pretend everything is okay in the town, when we know a storm is brewing outside. The argument has moved on between her and Charlie, from being about what has happened to how Audrey feels. And how she feels is heartbreaking. Like she’s not herself and that she doesn’t know who she is, and Charlie’s reaction? Scorn. Condescension. Treating her like the teenager she was when we last saw her. The scene has moved away from feeling frustrating and into nightmarish territory, the wood panelling of the walls making the room feel like a cabin in purgatory, or a real life black lodge. And Charlie’s words become more vague, and more frightening. He speaks of ‘ending her story’, and the discomfort of this scene really brings into the question the dynamics between the two, who he really is, and where they really are. The scene develops an emotional core to the storyline, and we begin to desperately want Audrey to get out from between these two worlds that she’s stuck in, and to leave that horrible room. Like Big Ed, like Cooper and like so many others, she is trying to return, but is stuck. 

. How they’ve managed to make the Palmer living room look more frightening than it did before is beyond me. Sarah drinks and smokes in the sickly darkness, watching a 15 second loop of an ancient boxing match which repeats ad nauseum, like the electric bear that spoke the words “Hello Johnny, how are you today?” endlessly a few episodes back. It feels nightmarish, and you want it to end. But it is stuck. Are we sensing the theme in play here again? The room feels angry and oppressive, and it’s reasonable to expect something evil and awful to materialise in it at any moment. But the horror is not Bob, or the ceiling fan, but the situation of Sarah: a woman who has lost everything, and whose life is full of dread and solitude. 

. Nadine and Dr Jacoby’s interaction is lovely, and feels like a genuine moment between two old friends who haven’t seen each other for many years. Except one has an eyepatch and a silent drape running shop and the other sells golden shit shovels via his angry livestreams. The point is, it feels real, and Wendy Robie still beautifully imbues Nadine with that almost schoolgirlish nervousness and innocence. She is pure in her exuberance towards Jacoby and her drapes, and she seems star struck by her former doctor. I’m so fond of Nadine, and there is a moment that hints at a sadness or darkness in her past, when Jacoby remembers seeing her on her hands and knees in a supermarket trying to pick up a potato. “There was a storm that night”, he says, and she looks afraid, and sad. What happened to her? What happened to all these people in this town? What has time done to them, and why do they all have to live with such pain? 

. And before we know it, we’re back at the Roadhouse, and this week we have probably the most divisive (read: unpopular) performer yet. Yes, it’s James Forehead Hurley, singing Just You and I. I can’t pretend to feel how i’m supposed to feel as a Twin Peaks fan and hate on this, because truly, I loved this moment. I loved it more than any roadhouse scene yet, and I have a big soft spot for James. The poor bastard had a rough time of it, and yes, he was a moody mope, but I feel for him. I was moved by seeing him received so well by the audience, and seeing him perform that song (which I will now have in my head for the next fortnight) made him look young and happy again, and I found it massively touching. It was a bittersweet moment of nostalgic melancholy, elevated by the image of Big Ed back at the Gas Farm, eating his Double R soup all alone. 

There Ed sits, thinking about how things were, and how they are now. Or maybe it’s us that’s thinking about it. Because we can listen to old songs, and sit in the Double R eating cherry pie, but we know evil forces are on their way to town, and already exist there. There is a goodness too, in the log lady, the bookhouse boys, in Ed, Norma, and Nadine. But they’ve been through too much to have that innocence, and the questions that The Return brings us is how can we ever go back to the way things were? And how much power do we have to prevent the bad things from happening again? I’ve been thinking of the song Ohm by Yo La Tengo, where they sing:

“Sometimes the bad days maintain their grip Sometimes the good days fade...

But nothing ever stays the same Nothing's explained”

That feeling, that we might never get back the good days, and that it doesn’t always happen for a clear reason, is prevalent in tonight’s episode, which explores how the characters that populate the show feel. It might not be explained exactly what has happened, but as well as starting to piece together the mystery, Part 13 interrogates the deepest emotional wells of the show, and it results in a moving and beautiful episode that deftly blends darkly satisfying plot progression and emotional complexity (I know it’s weird to call an episode where someone is punched in the face to death “beautiful”, but i’m sticking with it). 

“I’m not sure who I am, but I’m not me”

[busan97fics]

Deadly: Part 01.

By: busans97 (busan97fics)

Pairing: OC x Jungkook

Word Count: 2,013

Warnings: violence, gore

Summary: Being a “hitman” (or woman, in this case) figure at eighteen is bizarre, but falling in love with a boy you’re supposed to kill in a matter of seven days is even more bizarre.

[check out the other parts of this story!]

(gif credit to owner)

There is a certain tranquility in watching someone's blood ooze out from beneath their dead, cold body. It's kind of like the silence after a tornado passes.

I kill people for a living; just in case you were wondering why I was watching some dead guy bleed out. I swear I'm not a weirdo who just watches people die.

Long story short, my parents fucked me over at a young age, so I've been on my own in the world since I was twelve. I got into a bad scene, I guess you'd call it, and now I'm here after six years. It's not as bad as a scene as you think, though. I don't kill just anyone for money, which is a big reason why I don't refer to myself as a hitman-type figure. I kill the bad people who need to be killed: racists, cheaters, rapists, you name it. I've always been a big believer in getting justice even if it meant doing it immorally, so I guess you could say this job is pretty much made for me.

I get paid a good amount for it, too. The most I've ever gotten in a week is $10k. Not bad for an eighteen-year-old orphan, huh?

I stared at the dead man on the floor one last time, then I began to gather my things: my gun and my bag for money. Unruffled, I walked out of the apartment and took out the disposable cell-phone from my pocket and dialed a number.

"Jiyu? It's Eunju. The job is done, meet me around the corner Jihun's apartment. Bye."

As I left the apartment building, I spotted a dark-haired girl waiting across the street, tapping her fingers anxiously against the metal telephone pole. I squinted to try to get a better look at who it was, and like she was reading my mind, the girl turned around to reveal her face to me. It was Jiyu, thank God.

Her face immediately lit up as she spotted me on the sidewalk, and she began running towards me; and when she approached me she engulfed me in a tight, uncomfortable hug. I winced as she rocked me back and forth and made the sides of my arms turn white.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Jiyu squealed. "I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"No problem, it's what I do." I said while attempting to squirm out of Jiyu's embrace. "But hey. You can repay me by maybe giving me that money..."

"Oh! Right." Jiyu pulled out a huge wad of cash from her bag and placed it in my hand. It looked like it could be $8K or $9K, even.

My jaw slightly dropped in awe. "How much is this?!"

"$9,000."

"Holy shit, Jiyu, you don't need to—"

"No, Eunju, I want to." Jiyu insisted. "He was a...horrible man. I went through that shit with him for almost three years, and it's finally over thanks to you. This is how I wanna repay you."

"But we agreed on $2500, I don't want to screw you over like that. This is almost $7,000 more than we agreed on, at least take $1K back."

"No. Keep it. All. You deserve it, Eunju. I know your job is dirty and pretty illegal, but I think you're doing a wonderful and underrated thing. It's much more than the police did to help me."

I cracked a slight smile at her indirect compliment. "Thanks. That's what I aim for, or at least try to. I'm happy Jihun's out of your life for good. He didn't deserve someone as kindhearted as you."

"Ahh, Eunju," Jiyu faintly smiled and blushed. "Thank you. So much. It's pretty late, I should start to head home."

"Be careful," I warned. "It can get dangerous around here. Let me give you my actual number just in case something happens."

Jiyu handed me her phone and I swiftly entered my contact in. I smiled at her and decided to return the hug she gave me earlier.

"See you," Jiyu waved and began walking in the other direction.

I let out a deep sigh. Not a rude one, just an exhilarated one. This job has taught me there are two types of people in the world: selfish egotists and selfless, beautiful people.

Some clients I get stand out more than others; for good and bad. Like Jiyu, for example, is a client who stood out to me very positively. She is one of the most thankful clients I've worked for, and you can notice by the exasperation she had about her situation. And that's where the bad clients come in.

"Bad" clients don't come to me because they're emotionally drained about this person. These people come to me for pure revenge. Bad customers don't cry or stress. They get angry, irate even. Bad clients are also usually the ones that throw false accusations at me. I haven't gotten too many false accusations, thankfully, but it's the most horrible feeling when you discover you've killed an innocent person. Those are the clients you have to watch out for, and it's unfortunate that there's shitty people like that in the world, and it's even more unfortunate when it's almost impossible to keep a lookout for those type of people: you can see motivation in their eyes, but you can also see a coat of "genuine" fear and tragedy to the point where the coat is so big that it makes the motivation invisible.

I made my way down the streetlight-lit road towards my friend Yoongi's place since it was still pretty early in the night: 11PM.

Yoongi and I have been friends since I was about fourteen and he was twenty. It's a pretty big age gap considering how young I was at the time, but he really is like a big brother figure to me. I didn't always live alone in my own apartment like I do now; Yoongi was the one who noticed me moving from different alleyways to abandoned buildings nearly every night back then. I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty terrified when he first approached me, I didn't know what to say or think other than that this guy was gonna kidnap me and send me to Guam for human trafficking or something. But he saw that I was a nervous wreck, and he warmed up to me. The way he talked to me so soothingly and asked me questions just made me feel so relaxed and made me forget everything that was going on in my life at that moment. He was one of the first people who sincerely cared for me, which made my hormonal fourteen-year-old self's heart flutter. Yes, I had a crush on Yoongi for a bit. It's a pretty long story, but to make it short, I continuously tried to make moves on him up until I was sixteen, which he kindly rejected and told me that I was "too young" for him. It angered me, but he wasn't wrong. That's over now, though. After being in a handful of relationships after that I've decided I'm done with guys. They all just want you for one thing. Do I even need to say what that one thing is?

I arrived to Yoongi's apartment building after a short 5 minutes of walking and walked up the 3 flights of stairs it took to get to his apartment. It always pissed me off that his building was on the older side and didn't have an elevator. I jiggled the doorknob of his front door. Locked. I stood on my tippy toes and reached my hand up to the top ledge of the door until I felt a key. Very original, Yoongi.

I walked into Yoongi's apartment to see Yoongi and his roommate Hoseok playing some type of video game. I confidently marched over to the kitchen table, which was located right behind the boys, and slammed the wad of cash I had in my pocket onto the table. The two boys instinctively turned around widened their eyes once they spotted the money on the table.

"How much is that?" Yoongi asked casually, but his face said otherwise.

"$9 fucking K." I proudly looked down at the money now spread apart on the table and felt a smirk form on my face.

"Were you in some kind of inside job where you had to kill the President or something?" Hoseok chimed in.

I laughed at his snarky mark. "Only if. Just a normal job; nothing different than what I usually do. The girl I helped was just so thankful. And now I am too!" I began to throw the paper money in the air.

"You made what you usually make in a week in one night," Yoongi stated. "What the hell are you gonna do with all that money? And who are you gonna share it with?"

"Woah, who said I was gonna share it?"

"We all know if you used that all you'd spend it on clothes and food." Hoseok said, turning his body back around to face the TV monitor. "Impulsively, of course."

"So? It's my money. I can do whatever I want with it." I said matter of factly.

"Yeah, it's your money you earned by killing a man," Yoongi scoffed.

"Hey, you got your interests and I got mine." I fished through Yoongi's fridge in hopes of finding something to munch on. "Do you guys mind if I crash here tonight?"

"No," the boys said in unison. Their monotone voices gave away that they were both engrossed with their video game once again.

"Can't we watch a movie or something instead of playing Overwatch all night?" I plopped on the couch in between Hoseok and Yoongi, who both dared not to take their eyes off the fluorescent screen.

"You're just upset because you don't know how to play," Hoseok teased, which earned a light chuckle from Yoongi.

I rolled my eyes and took my phone out of my pocket to see tons of messages from my friend Jisu: 24 text messages and 7 missed calls.

Hey, where r u?

Can u talk?

It's important

Eunju please

Call me when you see these

I met Jisu a while ago; I met her through Yoongi actually. They both went to school together so she was always over Yoongi's place when I used to live here. Jisu and I were friends, but not really close. I have her number, but I haven't talked to her for at least a year. We really didn't have anything in common, other than us both being friends with Yoongi. So I think calling her my "friend" is an overstatement, I'd say an acquaintance, if even that.

I shot up from the couch and quickly walked over to the hallway so I wouldn't disturb Yoongi and Hoseok. But I guess me standing up and walking away abruptly didn't exactly make me invisible to them.

"You okay?" Of course Yoongi sensed there was something wrong.

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Just need to take a call."

Yoongi nodded and shifted his focus back onto his video game. I turned into the guest bedroom (also my old bedroom) and swiftly dialed Jisu. She immediately answered.

"Eunju?"

"It's me. Are you okay?"

Jisu hesitated. "Yeah it's...I'm fine. It's nothing really."

"Just tell me. I mean, if you're calling me out of all people it has to be pretty significant, right?"

I could hear a faint laugh over the phone. "Um...uh, I don't know how else to put this. I...I think I have a job for you. I need you to....kill someone."

[A/N]: Hello to everyone who read this! Thank you sm for reading, i should have the two other parts i’ve already written up very soon. I originally started writing this fic on wattpad, but I find it easier to publish it here, so I’m probably going to continue writing fics on here from now on lolsnddn. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and stay tuned for the next part ;)

[pt. 2]