#listen i've been insane about this woman for days now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sonarspace · 4 months

Note

Hi, I loved your Sukuna works ❤️‍🩹 Maybe you will take my request, what about Sukuna fluff when he is trying to comfort and support you while you’re sick? 🥺 And not like having a flu, but some serious disease? The image of him all harsh and cruel but having a soft spot for reader is doing something to me 😩

WHIPPED LOVERBOY

wc: 1.9k warnings: slight nsfw (f!receiving). blood (reader gets injured). nicknames? not proofread. idk what else to put here 😭 a/n: i think i've read something like this before on a different blog but i can't remember which so i changed it up a bit so as not to cause any problems. i hope you like it and i hope you don’t mind anon :3 a/n pt. 2: italics is for past events.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

sukuna's known to be vicious. the ruthless king. he had no family, one or two friends. he didn't like the idea of forming attachments to anyone. but you. you were different.

he first saw you at a ball the neighboring kingdom held. you were sat by the piano in a light mint green dress that accentuated your curves. in your own world. you played gracefully. he couldn't take his eyes off of you. nobody could. when you stood up to bow, the crowd erupted in claps and cheers. you walked past him leaving him mesmerized. and when he first heard you speak his heart skipped a beat.

it still does. when you're laying beside him calling out his name softly trying to get his attention. "suki. helloooo. sukuna are you listening??" you sigh annoyedly. "yes woman. go on." he smiles at you.

"what are you smiling about?" you look at him confused. "it's not funny 'kuna. it was a really big lizard." he laughs. "you're cute. like a deer. wanna eat you" he grabs your face and starts kissing you all over. bites playfully at your cheek. you chuckle out his name. he pulls back from you slightly and holding eye contact with you he says "you're really pretty." he makes you blush and you try to turn away but he grabs your chin before you can. "and to think you hate being around people," you say to him laughing. "now now, i still do. you're the only one i don't mind." he says stroking your cheek. you hum contentedly.

there's a knock on the door. "master sukuna" a muffled voice calls him out. "be right back," he tells you as he puts on his robe and steps outside of the room.

he comes back after a few minutes with a scowl on his face “i have to leave”. you sit up in bed and look at him with a pout “how long are you going to be gone for?” you ask. he walks over to where you are and sits down “i’m not sure,” he murmurs. it was normal for sukuna to leave for a day or two to handle matters. the longest he’s stayed away from you was five days. but that was only because he had a bet with uruame.

“you’re whipped. guess you can’t stay away from her for longer than two days, huh.” uruame challenges him. “of course i can” sukuna replies with a scoff. “yeah? i bet you 5k, you can’t stay away from her for more than a week.” uruame laughs. “ahh that’s easy money,” he says and they shake hands on it. uruame was right. by the fifth day sukuna felt like he was going insane. he was standing outside of your room contemplating whether or not he should break the bet. he thinks fuck the bet, he needs to see his girl more than he wants to win a bet.

he comes into your room and the way you smile at him and run over to him has his heart melting. why did he even agree to that stupid bet he thinks. he picks you up and leaves kisses all over your face. you sigh as he kisses down your jaw. you stay like that a while. just kissing. looking at each other and smiling stupidly. "can i eat you out?" he blurts out and catches you off guard "damn 'kuna. straight to the point?" you laugh. "please sweetie. it's been a week." he whines almost. "five days, actually" you correct him and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"uruame told me. they bet me that you won't be able to stay away from me for longer than a week. honestly thought you'd be able to do it, but i guess i was wrong. didn't know my boy's crazy about me like this". you say your hand stroking his cheek. "that fucker probably thinks they're so funny going around making bets, huh. going to have to start getting serious again. you've made me soft, woman" he says jokingly. he doesn't mind it at all though.

he kisses you once more. groaning into your mouth. he gets down on his knees. pulling your panties along. leaves kisses up your ankle moving along your inner thigh until he reaches where you need him the most. your pussy glistening. calls his name. he gives it a soft kiss and your hips buck into his mouth. "guess she missed me just as much," he says from under you. he sucks on your clit and you whimper. your hands pulling at his hair. he hums in satisfaction when your hole clenches around his tongue slightly. as uruame suggested, he's whipped and he's completely okay with it.

he sighs as he holds your hand into his. his thumb stroking the back off your hand. “i thought if i stayed put and minded my business, they won’t do anything. but they’ve killed about 20 of my men. it won’t be long before they come here and try to wipe out the entire kingdom. so, i have to leave. i’ll be back as soon i can.”

“let me come with you,” you try. “oh baby, you know i can’t let you do that.” he smiles at you. your eyes move down to look at his hands clasping yours and you bring them up to place a kiss on the back of both his hands. “promise me, you’ll come back to me.” you look at him with tears lining your eyes. “baby i-” he tries to talk but you cut him off. “no sukuna. just promise me please,” you beg him. “okay. okay. i promise.” he gives you a forehead kiss and parts.

it's been two weeks since he sent a letter promising he will be back soon. over three weeks since he’s been gone. you missed him so much. you felt like you were going crazy waiting for him. a knock on your door has your heart beating faster. 'is he back?' you think to yourself. you unlock the door to see uruame. "uruame" you say cheerfully pulling them into a hug as you let out a breath of relief. sukuna must be close you think. “hi honey sukuna sent me. he wanted to let you know he'll be home in two weeks." you don't notice you're crying until uruame wipes your tears. "hey hey now. he'll kill me if he knows i made you cry," uruame holds you close. "he said soon. it’s going to be two months since he left. that isn't soon uruame," you mumble into their chest. "I know babe, he's just helping out the people who live near the border. most of their houses are destroyed, so he decided to stay behind to help them." your heart warms at that. you’ve been asking him to get more involved with his people so they could respect him more than they fear him.

two days till sukuna gets back.

you're laying in bed wearing his undershirt. his four week old letter in your hand. thinking of him. his touch. his lips on yours. his sweet words. his voice. as you go to blow out the candle by your bed, you hear a loud crash from outside. you go over to your window to see where the sound came from. as you open the window, the bells of the palace start ringing. to alarm everyone that there's a threat. uruame comes into your room to take you to the bunker. but it's too late. a cannon ball is coming your way in full speed.

your vision goes black. your ears are ringing as your eyes flutter open. you try standing up and through your bleary vision you can see uruame trying to make their way over to you. the ringing clears and you can hear uruame yelling your name. you try to take step forward until you notice the blood on the floor around you. your hand moves to your stomach. a piece of wood from the broken furniture poking into your abdomen. you look up to uruame who grabs you as you fall down to your knees in pure agony. "stay with me honey," they panic. they rip out a piece of cloth and wrap it tightly around your wound. "uruame, 'kuna," you try to speak but end up coughing instead. "shh honey. you're okay. i've got you. just keep your eyes open for me okay?" they ask you softly. and you nod. "tell sukuna i-" you're about to say but they cut you off "nuh uh. we're not doing all that honey. you're going tell him yourself. you're going to be okay, i promise."

sukuna's pacing beside your unconscious body as the doctor cleans the area around the wound. there was so much blood covering you. sukuna was on his way back tonight to surprise you. he reached the gates of the palace and saw a cannon ball launched towards his wing. your window specifically. his heart dropped to his stomach and he dropped off of his horse and ran like a mad man to get to you. he comes into see uruame carrying your body to the infirmary. "uruame!" he yells running over and taking your unconscious body from their hands. "fuck sukuna. i don't fucking know what happened. one minute everything was fine and then the next minute the room’s blown up and she’s on the ground,” uruame speaks hysterically.

sukuna hisses as the doctor finally pulls out the sharp wood from your abdomen. she doesn't know i love her, he thinks. she can't leave me. fuck. the doctor stitches you up quickly. and pulls down your (his) undershirt. "is she going to be okay doctor," his voice is gruff. "yes master sukuna. she's lost a lot of blood though. so it may take a while for her to wake up."

one day. two days. six days. it's almost been a week and you haven't woken up. he sits by your side the entire time. holding your hand. uruame comes into the room. "master sukuna. we found them." heavy bags under his eyes. "stay here. and call me as soon as she wakes up," he commands uruame and gets up to deal with the people who hurt you.

your eyes open. trying to adjust to the light you blink a few times. looking around. you see uruame's mouth dropped in a slight smile. "honey?" they call out to you. and you hum. their hands wraps around your frame hugging you tightly. “uruame,” you chuckle. “how do you feel?” they ask you leaving a kiss on your forehead. “thirsty,” you rasp. you quickly chug the glass of water they give you and ask “how long have i been asleep for?”

before uruame can answer the door bursts open and sukuna comes rushing in. blood splattered across his top. you didn’t need to ask him who’s blood was splattered across his top you already knew as he makes his way over to you. “sukuna,” you gasp happily. he sits down next you and grabs your hands into his. “my sweet girl. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry you got hurt because of me,” he apologizes profusely, looking into your eyes. “it’s not your fault ‘kuna. you didn’t know this was going to happen.” you try to reassure him. holding his face in your hands. you kiss his nose. and then his lips. “i’m glad you’re back and in one piece,” you smile against his lips. “never leaving you alone again for that long,” he promises quietly.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

a/n pt. 3: hands still fucked up but i wanted to get this out as soon as possible, so im sorry if it’s not up to your expectations 💔. you can always leave some suggestions or any questions you have in my ask box titled “talk to me” on my blog page :).

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lo1k-diamonds · 2 months

Text

Call You Mine💜 Chapter 1

PAIRING: idol!Yoongi x OC

SUMMARY: Freya despises everything soulmate-related, but one day her soulmate shows out of nowhere and turns everything upside down.

"Why didn’t you reach out to me?" Her eyes watered in response to his words and he was certain. "You knew who I was, how I was suffering." It pained him to say so, but he knew it was true. It had to be a conscious decision. And he had to know why.

A slowburn rejection soulmate story to make you fall in love with Min Yoongi (again).

WORD COUNT: 7.4k (Total: 297k)

GENRE: Rejection, Soulmate AU, s2l

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: angst, huge ass story that is an emotional rollercoaster, rejection (tho it has a happy ending), OC has a strong personality and flaws (all my characters do really), desperation, explicit sexual content, semipublic I guess?, riding, consensual but there's conflict, soulmate bond is inescapable and shit happens

(You can also read it on AO3, originally posted in December 2022)

A.N. I have this poll I've been meaning to do about my soulmate series and to do so, I thought I should probably introduce those stories first 😅😋Yoongi's story is the third of the Soul Palette Series (but the one that started it all). Again, it is a realistic rejection soulmate story because I wanted a story where the female character doesn't lose her backbone as soon as [insert soulmate] shows in the picture/has sex. Lots of angst and fighting until the stars align ;)

"Poetry, music, a painting, they don’t save the world. But they save the minute. And that is enough.” Matilde Campilho

What were the odds?

“Freya, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, I am,” she answered nonchalantly, looking out through the car window.

Her mood soured with the conversation and the woman steering the wheel sighed. “Whenever the subject of soulmates gets brought up you just become…” Freya gave her an ice-cold look from the shotgun seat. That made the woman mad, “Insufferable.”

Freya smirked through her pain and looked away again.

The woman sighed again, “We’ve been friends for almost nine years. Don’t you think I know you by now?”

Freya placed her elbow on the car door, supporting her chin on her hand. Her fingers covered her mouth strategically. She knew the lecture that was about to happen, Lidia never missed a chance to try and change her mind about this topic. She didn’t have the heart or energy to fight it anymore.

“Soulmates are each other's halves,” she started and Freya just clenched her jaw. “You were born with one, two parts of a whole.” Freya couldn’t have heard it or learned it better if she was in primary school. Sarcastic thoughts like that would flood her every time Lidia pulled that sermon on her. “Just because barely half the population finds theirs, does not mean yours isn’t out there.”

“Sure, he might be out there, but I wish to be like the other half of the population. You know, the one that was able to live happily by being with the people they chose to be with,” Freya said with a hint of victory.

“Fair, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that their soulmates are still out there. They might have never met, but that doesn’t mean one should just ignore it or—”

“I’m not ignoring it,” Freya cut, annoyed. “I told you, I never met that person. Why would I lie!”

“I don’t know, maybe because you hate the idea of soulmates so much!” Lidia yelled back, fortunately without taking her eyes out of the traffic. Motorcycles were insane, trying to get in between the moving cars to get ahead. Freya was happy it was Lidia driving them to the venue. Lidia took a deep breath, “If something happened to him, you know you can tell me…”

Freya sighed, feeling stuck in the same loop, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met him.”

She hoped that would be the end of it, for now at least. Lidia seemed fixated on the idea that she was lying about her soulmate, that something tragic had happened, or that she was avoiding the person. Which didn’t make any sense according to her own rules, for fuck’s sake! Wouldn’t she be sick and whatnot if that was the case?

“Fine,” Lidia relented, as she always did when confronted with Freya's bitterness. “I would just like you to be open-minded when you do.”

Freya bit her tongue to hold back her remark and let the car fall into silence. She hated that topic and now it was stuck in her mind. She had never met that person and she never wanted to. She had no open-mindedness to offer because she would never be okay with it. And she wished she could just yell it out until it got through Lidia’s thick sand castles and baby cupids and stupid pink heartshaped butterflies: meeting your soulmate was terrible.

Sure they were supposed to be your other half, but they could literally be on the other side of the world. With different cultures and upbringings, you could be paired with a terrorist, misogynist, psychopath, the list went on. Who was it to say that person would actually fit your personality and values? Absolutely nothing, as history showed. Quite frankly, the fifty percent of the populace that never met them were the lucky ones. Never meeting them meant never experiencing withdrawals of absence. Never bending or nullifying your beliefs and values for the sake of someone else that, though unique, was probably not even the best match for you.

Because let’s face it: though science had proven its existence, who was to say the bond meant the same to everyone, or that it should be the same? For scientists, it was perceived more as an absolute physical attraction that would lead to the best procreation. That had nothing to do with love, with fated partners, or whatever else was mediatized. It all looked more like a romanticized publicity trope used to sell way more chocolates, flowers, and cards than Valentine’s Day. Or to make people feel misfitted and incomplete until they did find that person, instigating them to consume goods, programs, matchmaking events, anything that could speed that along. Why should anyone live with the unrelenting weight of not having met someone they never needed? That could ruin them, their lives? It was all terrible!

She would have known if she had met that person. Though she in general avoided physical contact, the mere presence of the other person was supposed to be enough for the both of them to know. She of course had no idea what it would feel like, soulbonds were also reported with different intensities for different people, but she was sure she’d know if that fateful moment ever occurred. Moreover, she would feel the withdrawal. Though tolerable to some, especially with medication, it would be impossible not to feel anything. She knew that’s how it would always play out: even if she avoided them and ran through the nearest exit as soon as she felt the bond, the need would hunt her, both of them, for as long as they lived. That was something she was willing to endure, though she honestly hoped she never had to. If she never met him, she’d never have to. So, she wished she never would. Simple.

Freya glanced at Lidia, who was now pulling over the security of the event and showing them her badge. Lidia couldn’t possibly understand her standpoint, and as much as they would fight about it, Freya wasn’t interested in shattering her dreams. If Lidia could one day live happily ever after with her fated mate and actually be happy, Freya would gladly support her. She just couldn’t be deluded by the idea like Lidia.

Their nine years of friendship were very precious to Freya. Though the focus on her career had led her astray from many of her friendships, Lidia always stuck by her. She was one of her dearest friends. She would always call and catch up on her, whether Freya was at a fashion runway, strike, or in a warzone. Maybe that was why Lidia was the only person she ever gave two cents to in regard to soulbonding. Everyone else was free to be their own idiot, but Lidia was her idiot. Freya didn’t want to see her get hurt. Lidia felt the exact same way, she knew that. It was the only reason they fought about it in the first place.

Lidia parked the car in the underground parking lot and Freya was forced to move. They were still by the entrance of the arena, the lights from the streets made their way to where they were. Lidia opened the trunk and Freya got her material ready. There was noise in the air and she kept trying to figure out what it was.

Lidia closed the trunk when Freya gave the nod and Freya’s blue eyes widened in shock. Beyond the entrance, behind the security barrier, there was a sea of people. People chanting, jumping, and screaming.

Lidia was smirking at the sight, “Not your typical warzone, is it?”

Freya pulled her camera that was hanging on her chest to her face, regulating the lens to focus on them. They were mostly girls shouting, around their twenties, some if that. They had colorful banners with letters stamped on them and sticks with a ball that seemed to shine.

Click.

She looked briefly at the photo on the view screen, then up again at them. She was surprised.

“No, but similar. What could it be that makes them act like that?”

Lidia was passing her her media badge to access the event.

“Boys.”

He woke up from his nap, dazed. He kept having the same dream. He had had it for a while and in the beginning, he couldn’t remember it properly. Now, he could. No faces or characteristics, but he knew it was always the same person he dreamt of. When he told it to the others, they thought it had to be his soulmate and he had found the idea hilarious at first, that was impossible. But then, with the years, he started wondering. Was it that far-fetched that there was a connection between them if they were two pieces of the same soul? Maybe their pieces had an incredible bond and that was why he could dream of her.

Her. He couldn’t remember much, but he did remember that, which brought more weight to the possibility of her being his soulmate since soulmates were always of the opposite sex. For him, love or a partner was always about the connection, the person, not about their appearance or gender. He never felt like he had a gender preference because he would always look at personality first, but his soulmate would be female and he was okay with it. Though honestly, despite dreaming of her occasionally, he couldn’t conceive a relationship — he hadn’t had a serious one in almost ten years.

Life made it that way, and he accepted it. His career had taken off in a way he had dreamed and actually achieved. He was surrounded by amazing people, professionals, friends, and family alike. He had his fans, who supported him and allowed him to live every single one of his dreams, from making music, to not worrying about money, to being able to support his family comfortably. Did he ever wonder if loneliness was a price to pay for it all? Yes. Did he think it was? No. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, or his soulmate. They would show in due time. He was living, bit by bit, in tranquility.

He of course thought about what would happen if he met her. Seokjin and Hoseok had found theirs and they were exceedingly happy. They gave all others the hope of a lifetime of happiness and fulfillment, though none were particularly searching for it. ARMYs didn't know about their discovery, they had decided it that way. Not even necessarily because of the fans, but because of the sasaengs and paparazzi. The lack of privacy would be overwhelming and the men didn't wish to ruin their soulmates' lives.

If anyone had to choose who appeared the least interested in the whole soulmate trope it would probably be him. Yoongi was known for many things, he was aware, and the top included being snarky, lazy, and perfectionist. Some probably saw him as the most cold, obsessed with his music, a workaholic. It was somewhat true, he shrugged. Ideas were constantly in his mind and he was the happiest if he was putting them to life. That meant spending a lot of time by himself in the comfort and safety of his studio, space, and mind. It also meant he slept a lot. None of those characteristics meant he actually was cold or uninterested in finding his soulmate. Quite on the contrary, sometimes it felt it was the exact piece that was missing. He lived with it, but he wouldn't deny it or reject it if it happened. He would welcome her wholeheartedly, he had been waiting for some time now.

There was pressure to perform in front of thousands of people that night, as it was BTS’s last tour date in Europe, in Berlin. He was very tired, exhausted really, as were the others, but they were persevering. They had to, the quiet that would come after would be both a soothing balm and a curse. They had to make the best of it while they could, no matter what.

He was reflecting on that, at the backstage lounge after having slept a nap. The others were getting ready for the concert in other ways, though they were all quiet as the stress was building up. He walked out to reach the stylist's room and get his makeup done, knowing he would be the last one to do so when he felt it. He stumbled against the door awkwardly, completely taken by surprise. He looked around in shock, meeting the makeup artists’, hairdressers’, and stylists' surprised looks.

She was there. She was there somewhere.

He was there somewhere. Freya was certain of it. She knew she would know when it happened and she knew. She was terrified, petrified in place, but she knew.

“Freya, what’s wrong?”

Lidia sounded worried and Freya blinked blankly for a second. She had fallen against the wall and was now leaning against it. People were passing in between them in that corridor in both directions, oblivious to them, most speaking a language she didn’t understand.

Freya immediately forced a smile, dismissing her question. “I’m fine, I just tripped.”

Lidia accepted it because, in the turmoil of people running around backstage, that wasn’t surprising. Little did she know what happened. Freya was nearly sweating from nervousness, her body too hot to handle the May warmth.

How could that be, she thought, while following Lidia. She had lived in Berlin her whole life, why would it have to happen at a boy band concert? It made no sense, at all. On one hand, she had been super lucky to never stumble on him her whole life. On the other, really, a boy band concert? What if it was one of the fanboys outside?

That was her worst nightmare coming to reality. She wasn’t one to wallow in self-pity, but for fuck’s sake she almost had it. She almost lived a life in ignorance, free of fated bullcrap and withdrawal symptoms. Now she was facing her options: to run away immediately, to finish the job and hopefully never stumble on him, or to search for him. The latter wasn’t an option, and to leave without finishing the job was unprofessional. Lidia had asked her to be there to photograph that piece, the last concert date of the boy band in Europe, and she felt obligated to carry it through. They had an exclusive interview for their culture magazine and those photographs would make the fans go insane. Her professional code was above all else, she had fought tooth and nail to achieve everything she had. She vowed to never let her soulmate change her and it would certainly not start now.

Avoiding the person would probably be impossible, she considered, still following Lidia. The stadium was packed with fans and crew, there was no avoiding whoever it was. Since people kept passing through her constantly, she thought their bond must be pretty strong. Otherwise, how could it be that the sensation wasn’t fading as the person walked past her? They probably weren’t even walking past her. They were just somewhere in the vicinity.

There was no photoshoot scheduled, just the interview. When they walked into the artists' backstage lounge it was relatively quiet. There were seven, distinctively sitting in the corner of the room that had been lit and specially prepared for the occasion. Freya was surprised the artist’s crew had prepared that small arrangement for the interview, as it would usually be up to the magazine to arrange it.

She stayed by the door and grabbed her camera, pulling it to her face.

Lidia walked ahead with a gorgeous smile, “Hello everyone! Are we late? I hope you didn't wait long.”

The question was rhetorical, they were well ahead of time. Freya was immediately immersed in seeing life through her lens. She would do what she did best, soulmate pull bothering her or not.

She did not pay attention to the conversation between Lidia and the publicists, managers, and whoever else. She was certain Lidia pointed at her because she saw it through her camera.

"Just ignore her," Lidia said with a smile, glancing back at the camera. Lidia knew she liked to work in peace.

She wasn't a photographer who would take a thousand pictures to be able to choose one. She would take ten to choose five. That meant being very conscious of every angle, light, positioning, and framing. Everything had to be perfect. She had won awards for pictures she barely had to edit precisely because of her attention to detail. In warzones, she was severely limited in time and supplies, she had to make due. It wasn't the same circumstance, but her work ethic applied.

She liked seeing the crew work around them tirelessly and she wasn't shy about snapping photos of them. She was certain then that the concert was only about 20% the actual musicians. Not to diminish their work, but the show itself was not of their making. They were just starring in it.

The interview was well underway when she turned to the artists themselves. That wasn't problematic, their smile wouldn't change between the first and last question. She actually believed they'd relax more as the questions progressed, making their photos portray their true nature better.

Those thirty minutes flew truly by. She quickly scanned the photos she took through the view screen to make sure she had all seven in perfect soul-capturing moments, but she frowned. There was one that was different. He was speaking in the photo she took, he had an honest expression, and a beautiful complexion, but she didn't feel like the photo was as good as the others. He wasn't captured as well.

She raised her eyes to look at him and her heart jumped a beat. He was looking down, hands over his crossed legs. His hair was beautifully styled over his forehead, he looked almost like a doll. He sure was frozen, but she knew he was listening. His bandmate was answering a question in English and Lidia laughed, not too loud but not fakely either. That man smiled, not out of politeness, but out of understanding. Out of deeper thoughts. Something more meaningful.

Click.

She hadn't even thought of it, she had to capture it. Her stomach was twisting, she wasn't feeling too well. Damned soulbond shenanigans. She usually did very well in crowds, but she suddenly felt claustrophobic. She slipped through the entrance door and left. She was fighting hard for what was happening so as not to ruin her day.

He was barely containing himself. He had an urge, an energy pulse that wanted to pull at him and take him somewhere. He was sitting as still as he could, respectfully listening to the interview and answering when appropriate. He felt his smile might give it away, so he kept looking down. Some of the others noticed and touched him soothingly in worry, patting his back or shoulder softly. He stayed quiet, he couldn’t tell them yet.

When the journalist left and the room emptied a bit in the last ten minutes before the final preparations, he was finally free.

"What's wrong, Yoongi?" Hoseok was worried.

"Yeah, why didn't you answer the next album question?" Namjoon’s tone wasn't of irritation, just curiosity. "It's your question."

"You were really stiff too," Jimim commented with a concerned pout. They were next to each other and Jimin had at one point patted his lower back.

"Guys, let him talk," Seokjin interfered, waving his hand in front of his face. Was he getting hot? Cause Yoongi was burning up, and sweating without the show even starting.

"Look at him, he's flustered," Taehyung commented, looking at him from real close. Yoongi scoffed and brushed him away.

"Here's water, hyung," Jungkook offered him a water bottle which he gladly took.

"Guys," his voice sounded weird even to him. Since when was it this emotional? "I feel it."

"What?"

"Are you sick?"

"Don't push yourself too hard."

"Guys!" He grabbed Taehyung by the shoulders, who was still close and personal. He would have been annoyed if the occasion was different, he really didn’t care now. "I feel it. Her. She's here somewhere tonight. I feel it right now."

Chaos ensued, with some congratulations and some worries echoing throughout the room. They barely had a minute to discuss it with their manager Sejin, the first to be informed.

They were rushed to the level underneath the stage and the manager just smacked Yoongi’s shoulder, "Focus on the show. We'll find her after."

He was nervous now, and not about the show. His mind was processing the facts now. The person wasn't in the crew, he would have felt it before. It had to be someone who entered the venue when he felt it. That could be anyone, from fans to workers, and little could be done to slim the number down from tens of thousands to one. That thought made him despair. How would he ever find her in so many people?

"Hey," Namjoon had his hand over his shoulder. His eyes had a glint of concern, but his expression exuded confidence. "She feels you too." Yoongi nodded, taking a deep breath. "She'll probably come forward after the concert."

"She's probably an ARMY," Hoseok winked. Yoongi just shrugged, he didn't care if she was. That was the least of his concerns right now.

"Just think this is for her, for all of them," Jimin added with a light smile.

Yoongi nodded and rushed to the stage, the same as them. He gave it his all. He was exhausted, but he wasn't giving up. He knew he shocked his brothers because he had probably never shown such a performance before. He couldn't explain it. He had newfound energy, and hope. Things would be different from now on, for the best. The thought that she was listening, and seeing him perform gave him an extra incentive. He teased the public way more than usual. He rarely displayed his English skills as openly, but the circumstances told him she couldn't be Korean. Whoever she was in that crowd, he wanted to make sure she knew they could communicate. Could she even tell it was him? She was probably as lost as he was.

The pull was hard. Freya was facing the whole crowd from that spot, near the stage. She could easily take pictures of the stage, as well as the fans. She was trying to focus on her job, but something kept interrupting her. Sometimes she would feel goosebumps all over her body, though she did not know why. Maybe if that guy stopped talking on the microphone all the time, she could actually hear herself think.

She rubbed her eyes with a sigh; the show was almost ending, it would be over soon. She was particularly snappy because of the bond-induced tension, she knew that. She would be able to leave as soon as it ended, just a little while longer.

Or so she thought. The venue started emptying and Lidia insisted for them to stay. She didn't complain at first, taking pictures of the heartbroken fans when the show ended. Most of them were emotional, tears staining their faces, but they were smiling. For them, it must have been a life experience to see BTS on stage. If only Freya could have appreciated it as much. She also wanted to cry. She wanted to run away so badly.

The venue was nearly empty when a publicist showed up to call for Lidia. Apparently, there were some matters left to discuss. Lidia nudged Freya, saying how nice it was of them to let them experience the concert for free before getting back to business. Freya knew it was nice, but she just shrugged. She wanted to leave.

But she couldn't, Lidia was her ride. She could always run away either way, but it wasn't professional.

"Do you want me to come with you?" She asked, willing.

"No, it's just a meeting. Footage of the fans leaving, the empty poststage and backstage, or even the tired artists are more important. Make it count," Lidia winked before leaving. She probably didn't notice Freya’s expression, as excited as if she was sucking on a sour lemon.

She needed to calm down, she thought. She had to be professional above all else. She could not, and would not, have that stupid occurrence ruin her photojournalist reputation. Over her dead body.

She exited the designated area, aimlessly taking shots whenever she felt it was worth it. She had her bag with other lenses that she would switch occasionally. She got lost.

Yoongi was despairing. He couldn't help it. He wasn't even listening to the argument anymore. He was focused on the feeling, on the internal drum. He was panicked that it was going to disappear in a heartbeat.

"There's nothing we can do! We can't prevent the fans from leaving the venue, we can't force them to leave one by one. Not to mention that just touching the subject would immediately destroy any option of privacy for Yoongi or his soulmate." Sejin was being reasonable, everyone knew that. But one glance at Yoongi's face said it all. It was not enough.

Namjoon kept arguing, but Yoongi turned around to face the mirror, closing his eyes. He felt someone behind him.

"Do you still feel it?" Jungkook’s kind voice asked.

He nodded with his heart tight in his chest. He did feel it, he felt it better now, if that made sense. It was called a pull for a reason. He felt pulled, compelled to move, to go somewhere. He didn't know where, he didn't know if it worked and it was probably not safe for him to leave that room. But he felt it as though he was a compass with an arrow juggling around. No one was going to find her but him. And he absolutely couldn't lose her.

He opened his eyes and confidently walked out, not paying attention to anyone. He didn't notice his brothers calling or manager Sejin telling them to let him go. The venue was nearly empty, maybe one-fourth of the fans were still around. He still felt her, so maybe they had a chance.

He walked to the higher levels completely on a gut feeling. He hadn't even changed outfits or showered yet, he was straight out of the stage with a gray hoodie and black tight pants. He had a black headband over his hairline that kept his short dark brown hair from falling down his eyes and the sweat from dripping. None of it mattered though, he didn’t have time to look presentable, he needed to find her.

When he reached the higher level, he wasn't even afraid to meet fans, the thought didn’t occur to him. He just stumbled, numb. He could barely feel it anymore, it was like a pulled elastic at the end. It was still there, and so was she. Yet, for a second his chest filled with anguish and it physically hurt. He had no sense of direction anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. He was failing and it was useless, he had no idea of what to do.

People were starting to mumble around him and he was brought back to reality. He needed an escape, to hide the repressed feelings that were starting to make his chest hurt. There was a door in front of him. He entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

Freya was walking aimlessly, completely lost. There weren't that many people around and she wasn't really interested in taking pictures anymore. The moment had passed. She hoped to catch the band leaving, knowing that was the kind of shot her magazine could appreciate for the online version of the article.

The more she kept going, the more sure she became that she was going the wrong way. She was effectively ignoring her surroundings and just going. The crew was going in the opposite direction, the fangirls and security too. She tried convincing herself that was totally normal. It was totally her own will taking her somewhere in order to snap more pictures. It was not that gut-wrenching pull telling her she had to be somewhere.

She was walking down a corridor when she suddenly froze. Her body was burning up, her heart racing out of control, but her gut clearly knew that was it. No need to go further. She was deaf at that point, the bond so strong it was a deafening physical energy current around her pushing her in only one direction: the door in front of her.

Everything else was muffled and unimportant. Yet from the outside of the door, she could already feel she shouldn’t open it. The force was so strong it was numbing. Her hand hovered over the door knob and she wondered how it wasn't vibrating with the resonance of such a powerful pull. She wanted to fight it with all of her strength, and her hand trembled. It would change her life forever if she opened that door. She didn't want that to happen.

But she wasn't strong enough, it was just so much stronger than her. She succumbed to it, fatefully so. She grabbed the doorknob and tried to rationalize it. It couldn’t hurt to see him at least once, or at least to tell him she wasn't and wasn't ever going to be interested. Yeah, that's it. That was why she had to get in there. It wasn't that person's fault and she should at least tell him that.

She entered the room quickly, a small meeting room, and closed the door without turning. Inside, the pull became like a magnetic field, all around them like walls, instead of a single string. She turned slowly around and saw a man standing behind the center table, having risen from his chair, staring at her in shock. He was different than she expected, though she expected nothing. He looked tired, that was her first thought. Why was he so tired? His dark brown hair was wet with sweat and falling over his headband. His eyes were smaller than she would expect, and darker. His skin was so pale she wondered if it was porcelain; was that makeup? He was her height it would seem, though bulkier than her. That hoodie did not give much away, but he looked comfortable. She was somewhat happy he was comfortable, despite his tiredness.

Her eyes were glued to him like nothing else existed because nothing else did. She was walking slowly in his direction, completely unaware. She had heard of the trance but she never thought it would be that strong. Her body moved on its own, her mind clouded as if she was high on drugs. She was such a strong-willed person, and yet it seemed all her convictions evaporated. Her legs were jello and would only move in his direction. She argued that it was only physical, her mind was still alert. Yet they were a step away from each other when she recognized her own lie. Her mind was as interested as her body, especially because she recognized him. But from where?

They shouldn't have touched, she thought. As soon as their hands did there was no denying it. There was no reasoning that could explain what was happening, except soulmating. Her chest filled with cheer bliss while her whole body warmed up like crazy as if she was a firework ready to pop in a million colors. And it was strange to recognize the same sort of emotion in such foreign eyes, in a stranger's face. She felt endeared by that face, propelled to care for that person with the clear consciousness that she did not know him. And her heart, or should she say soul, was at peace with it.

She struggled with that thought. First, because she thought they would instantly love each other blindly or something, and she didn’t want that to happen. Second, because it confirmed her own theories that soulbonding would erase her sense of self, her autonomy, and her individuality. She would be damned if she’d ever let any of that happen.

She knew nothing would ever feel the same or compare to him. However, knowing it in theory or feeling it in practice were very different things. Every particle of her body and soul agreed that was it, her other half, and no other person, relationship or bond would ever replace it. She looked at her hands in his and she had to close her eyes for a second to control her emotions. The urge to hug him was making her toes curl.

“What’s your name?”

Her eyes jumped to him and widened. She knew him, she heard his voice a lot tonight. She pictured him without the headband in a pretty black suit and she gasped. He was one of the guys from the band! She was completely shaken to her core; how was that possible?! Weren’t they from the other side of the world?

Then she shook her head, but of course he was. He didn’t live in Berlin, or else they’d have met before. He only happened to come to Berlin, and she only happened to be invited to work that piece last minute. Lidia would call it fate.

“What’s your name?”

His voice gave her goosebumps. He was saying it in English, not German, but she was totally fine with it. Despite the slight demand from his voice, he was using a loving tone. A soft caress to her ears meant to not trouble her. But she was troubled, deeply. She fought to keep her mouth shut, clenching her teeth and looking away. She saw his chest heave to take in a breath before insisting on knowing her name and she panicked. She couldn’t deny him if he kept asking, her soul wouldn’t allow it. So she kissed him.

She censored herself for a millisecond before their lips touched. Kissing him went against everything she stood for. First and foremost, because she was invading his privacy, his personal space. She was attacking him, sexually assaulting him for fuck’s sake. Soulmate or not, that couldn’t be taken lightly. Second, because it was disrespectful as a whole to kiss someone without knowing if they consented. What if he had a girlfriend or was married? Third, because she wanted to keep her distance from her soulmate. They were never supposed to have met, let alone touch or kiss. She wanted to leave, run away, and never look back. No matter the pain it would cause them both. That was too selfish of her and the more they dove in, the more she would hurt him, wound him. His soul, the other part of her. He was an unlucky bastard to be fated to be her other half.

Despite the flawless logic in all of those thoughts, she couldn’t stop her lips and he didn’t seem to mind. He was surprised for a second, before supporting her waist with his hands carefully while she grabbed his head in place. For someone who wanted to run away as soon as possible, she sure was keeping him firmly in her grip.

She forced him to walk back until he was against the wall. She did so because now he had nowhere to go, she could press her body against him. She felt absolute ecstasy running through her blood. She could not stop kissing him. She could not be stopped. She vaguely thought the only way would be for him to ask it, and she doubted he ever would.

His hands stayed respectfully at her waist, frustratingly so. It was infuriating in a way how he seemed to be more in control than she was when she was the one who didn’t want this to happen. She should be outraged that they were kissing without her consent. She didn’t have the mind space to think about that though, she would reflect on being a hypocrite later.

For now, his lips tasted like heaven. She was going into all the corny tropes because they fit exactly how she felt. She was riding the wave of a rush and it was divine. She had never been high on LSD or cocaine, but she imagined it came close to that. Her tongue had no problems invading his mouth, provoking hot waves of pleasure to reverberate through her whole body. The way he just accepted it, as if giving her the full reins of it, stupidly turned her on, egged her on. He was the only one who could stop her, why didn’t he?

She fought hard to stop their makeout session and pulled away, panting uncontrollably. She was eating him alive. So much for saying ‘goodbye, let’s never see each other again’.

“You… What's your name?”

Their faces were still glued together, his arms around her. She pushed herself away and turned to the side, covering her mouth with her right hand. Somehow, pulling away from him exhausted her. She felt like even gravity was against her. She stayed like that, panting at a short but safe distance, looking at him.

After a moment of silence, he walked to a chair and sat down. The corners of his lips were raised in a small smile, he looked calm. He had all the time in the world, it seemed. Well, she didn't, she had other things to do. Like running away and never look back. Stupid soulbond was too heavy, her legs were stomped.

He pointed at the chair across from him, on the other side of the table. "Please, sit."

She wanted to scream. He was being so gentle, so condescending. Was she an idiot that couldn't keep herself away? Y- No. She wasn't a fangirl. She was a hard-working adult. An award-winning photojournalist. She was in control. Mostly. She couldn't even look away from him, that empty chair had nothing on him.

She tried calming herself down. She took her camera strip out of her neck, letting the camera sit on the table, and then she also dropped her lens bag on the floor next to it. Her breathing was stabilizing and she swallowed dryly. He was patiently waiting for her. He looked like a mythological God observing her, a mere mortal, to cope with his presence. And she had all the intentions of kneeling and begging for whatever mercy he could give.

She scoffed and pulled her copper hair back, out of her face. It was good. That soulmate thing… It was strong. She never thought it would get to that point. She knew when to admit defeat. And that was certainly, still, not the time to.

She took a step forward, convinced that she was in control. She was going to put her hand on his shoulder and say, ‘I’m sorry it had to be me. I’m not interested. Let’s forget this ever happened.'

Her hand actually hovered over his shoulder for a moment, when her blue eyes deviated to the exposed skin of his neck. Her hand trembled while she struggled between her wills, visceral thoughts opposing one another. He must have seen her inner battle because he extended his hand and guided hers to his shoulder calmingly. It tipped the scales.

Her hormones, body, whatever it was took control. What she wanted beyond him didn’t matter, no one beyond him mattered. She felt like everything in life was secondary, a faded background, dim against his brightness. There was only one thing she wanted.

Her leg heaved to the other side of him and she sat on top of his legs. He seemed to be expecting her lips when she leaned forward to greet him. His hands went to rest carefully by her waist while hers kept by his neck. He was taking her kisses fully, meeting her passion without ever imposing. But she was hungry. She started grinding herself against him and as soon as she could feel his hard-on clearly through his pants and her shorts, she just couldn’t stop anymore.

Her mind became foggy and nothing else but their pleasure meant anything. There was something at the end of the rainbow and she wanted it. Not want, want. Like the need to breathe. He grunted and parted their lips, trying to look around, at them, at her.

She got up with a weird sense of ease. She unbuttoned her shorts without ever dropping her eyes from him. His, however, accompanied the fabric’s descent down her naked legs. She pulled her panties down in the same motion and he seemed to understand. His expression was now serious, as she imagined hers. She wanted it, like oxygen. Like daylight. He could stop it though. One word and her world would crumble.

He extended his right hand for her to take. She took it and got closer. He meant to get up, but she stopped him. She unbuttoned his pants herself while her heart drummed in her chest. It wasn’t even about what he was going to look like or anything of the sort. She just had to feel him.

She got on his lap and immediately pulled his erection out. It was hard and shiny, extending proudly upwards. Their eyes met and no words were spoken. His hands were on her hips and she just did what she was supposed to. She sat down.

It had never felt that way before. She was never the most sexual person, but it was not supposed to feel like that. If she had a will, it vanished then. Her completeness could not be described. It was like an explosion of color, like a gust of wind, like the stars on the black pane of the universe. She was a boat looking to anchor, he was the nest she came to sleep in.

Once the cosmic waves were done resonating in her nerves, she opened her eyes, aware. It was like seeing everything blurry and then putting on glasses. She understood. She could barely think, but she knew she understood. And looking at his eyes, she knew he did too. His arms raised around her in a tight embrace to keep her close while her hips started rolling. She felt embraced, and accepted, like a promise was being made. Their bodies were giving something to each other because that was the only way their souls could be one again. That pleasure making her skin stretch was the extent their souls would ever touch each other. That was sad in a way, making her feel anguish. Yet he kissed her chest, right over her heart, making her come to an almost full stop. He was promising. She started moving again. That promise would only be real if they committed. If their souls actually touched and joined.

She had never felt pleasure like that. She thought she would reach her orgasm very soon, but somehow there was more. Like an endless staircase to heaven. He grew impatient with kissing her shirt and forced it out. She gladly helped. His lips on her skin were everything, and she moaned through clenched teeth at the shock. His tongue darted out to feel her breasts, contouring her bra edges and sneaking in as much as he could. She was still going, jumping as low as possible so he could do it. She grew impatient and her hands reached her back to release the bra when he stopped her.

He grabbed her hands, “No, don’t stop.”

It was a catalyst, if there could be one. His hands groped her firmly everywhere while she got lost in the feeling of riding him. She was now moaning with every motion, so ready to reach him whenever he was.

He grunted from the back of his throat, “Fuck.”

She nodded approvingly and felt the instant he was ready. She forced his hands on her breasts to squeeze hard while she sat down strongly a few times, making him go so deep it nearly hurt.

Only it was pure bliss. She closed her eyes and all she could see was golden. Golden waves with particles of light. Her body trembled in spasms, her voice muted without breath. Her body felt like it was hovering in a breeze, floating. She could feel his hands, his body, inside and out. She felt warm and safe. Home.

It lasted maybe fifteen seconds. Then, the golden waves receded, the lights disappeared like stars in the morning sky, her body floated softly to the ground, and it was done. Her head fell over his shoulder and his hand came to rest on her hair. They were both panting. They promised, it was done. She was hugging him as tightly as she could. She was scared to open her eyes.

You can go here to keep reading [ao3] (this story is finished) 💜

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gnpwdrnwhiskey · 9 months

Text

Conversations with a Movie Star

Chapter One- Welcome to the Bravo Inn

Pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

Word Count- 1.8k-ish

Warnings- very brief mention of tobacco, alcohol and unspecified stronger substances, plenty of foul language, Ava might be an ofc but I've tried to keep her physical description a blank slate....

Author's Note- this insane idea came to me riding down the highway when I saw a sign for the Bravo Inn so yes it's a real place and yes it looks a little sketchy and I apologize if anyone knows where it is and I got that wrong, lol! Myrtle Beach is obviously also a real place, one of my favorites, but it's been some years since I've been there so I may get details wrong and I apologize for that too....many thanks to @wildemaven for putting up with me plotting this from the get go 💕

"It's not personal, Ava. The paper just had to make some budget cuts."

"You send me down here to cover this festival, cancel the room the paper had paid for- there is literally nowhere decent to stay, the place I found has fuschia carpet- do you hear me? FUSCHIA! And then fire me over the fucking phone and I'm not supposed to take it personally??"

"Look, Ava, I tried...."

"Why his own fucking granddaughter? If it was just budget cuts, why not what's his face, Kevin, in maintenance- the one that falls asleep in the bathroom all the damn time?"

"Valid point and I'm not sure...." Drew laughs.

"Or what about James? He's like seventy-billion years old and he hasn't written anything legible since like 1993! I'll tell you why, because they're both fucking men!"

"Ava!"

"What, Drew? What?"

"I tried, okay? I tried and I'm still trying. I've lined up an interview for you at the Journal in a few weeks with a buddy of mine. They're looking for a temp to cover the Ask Sam column, maybe do a few human interest pieces."

"A temp gig? What the fuck?"

"It's a foot in the door, alright? Do you want the interview or not?"

"Ugh, fine, you know I do. Text me the details. But I still hate you for doing his dirty work."

"I'm your brother, you'll get over it. Look, I'll CashApp you some money, just stay at the beach for awhile, let this blow over a bit. Maybe still write some stuff for the festival and bike week. Do some freelance shit."

"No, fuck that, no. I'm sick of trying to cold sell shit to 3rd rate travel publications or airline magazines or whatever the fuck else. So fuck that and I love you, but fuck you too, Drew."

Dieter imagines right about now the woman belonging to the voice he's been listening to is really wishing that you could still slam a phone down to end a conversation. He hadn't meant to be eavesdropping- or okay, maybe he had but she'd been pacing outside the motel office with the call on speaker phone- who even does that anymore? And also, he really liked the sound of her voice. Loved the way she said fuck, would love even more to hear it in a different context.

And then she's storming into the office, right up to the counter, which is a goddamn shame because she's all long legs in tiny cut off denim shorts and he'd like to have gotten a better look.

"Hi, I'd like...wait," she stops, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair and blinking at him a few times. "Do you even work here? Or did you like wander in off the street or something?"

"Wander in off....what?" Dieter laughs. "I didn't wander in from anywhere, I'm the owner."

"Sure, of course you are," she nods. "That explains a lot."

"What does that even mean, that explains what?"

Dieter's pretty sure this conversation has already jumped the rails and it just got started. Or she's just fucking nuts, but she's cute and he doesn't have anything else going on, so he's rolling with it.

"No offense, dude, but you're wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the day and you kinda look like you skipped the shower. For days. Plural. The word feral comes to mind and like not really in a good way? And that explains a lot. About this hotel."

She nods again like this makes perfect sense and maybe in her head it does.

"Anyone ever tell you you're rude?"

"Constantly. It's my grandfather's favorite disparaging remark. Fucking asshole. My grandpa, not you. You, I'd like to talk to about extending my stay."

Dieter raises an eyebrow and pokes at the mouse, stirring the computer to life.

"The fuschia carpet's not too offensive?"

"Heard that, huh?" She grins at him and leans her elbows on the counter, allowing Dieter a glimpse down the vee of her shirt and he swears he's halfway to smitten already.

"Hard not to."

"I'd apologize, but I'm not sorry. And also I suppose beggars can't be choosers. So, about the room?"

"I dunno," Dieter stalls, still poking at the keyboard trying to figure out the damn reservation system Anika set up. "Bike week is coming up, I could jack up the rates, get triple what I'm charging now for the room...."

"Or you could not be a dick and help a girl out. I'll pay in advance. In cash. For three weeks. The carpet will grow on me I'm sure."

"Look," Dieter sighs, giving up on pretending he has any idea what he's doing. "Can we make a deal? You come around here and figure out this reservation system and you can book your own room."

"I could just wait for the blonde to come back? The one who checked me in? She seemed efficient. A little cold, but efficient. Or like another staff member?"

"That's gonna be a long ass wait."

"There's no other staff?"

"Besides housekeeping and maintenance? Not currently."

"And the blonde?"

"Told me to go fuck myself." He mutters.

"Oh shit, what'd you do?" She laughs, sliding around behind the counter to get a look at the computer.

"Why did it have to be me?"

"I mean, again- look at yourself." She pauses to look him over now that the counter isn't separating them. "I bet you rolled out of bed, threw on those ratty boxers and your robe and called it a day. And Jesus, are those Crocs? Do you have any self respect? Nice thighs, though."

"Thanks?" Dieter looks down at his own legs before slowly letting his gaze travel up hers. "Is it inappropriate if I say you too?"

"Nah, equal opportunity ogling is allowed," she grins. "Now, can I have the chair? And by the way, if I figure this out, I'm comping myself a free week."

"If you figure this out and can show me how it works, you can comp yourself two weeks."

"Stop hovering."

"I'm not hovering."

He's definitely hovering. He knows he's hovering, would step closer, maybe lean in over her shoulder if he thought he could get away with it.

"You are totally hovering! I can feel you breathing on me!"

"How am I supposed to learn if I can't see what you're doing?"

"Ugh, fine, whatever. Look, a second grader could do this. You input the length of the stay, a box pops up and shows you what rooms are available, you click on one, and input the guest's information. The computer does the rest. And look at that- plenty of rooms available despite bike week looming in the very near future..."

"Smart ass." Dieter laughs.

"Anyway, here we go, room 4 with the lovely fuschia carpet, and Ava Greene, that's me by the way, done. Booked. Got it?"

"Uh-huh. Got it."

He definitely doesn't have it. Too busy staring at the tattoo on the back of her neck wondering what the hell it means and breathing in the scent of her, all sunbaked and coconutty from sunscreen.

She spins around in the desk chair to face him, head tilted to the side and eyes narrowed looking at him like she sees right through all his bullshit and Dieter's seriously reconsidering his stance on never getting married.

"You didn't retain any of that, did you?" She sighs.

"Can you show me one more time?" He gives her the lopsided grin that's been winning him hearts since his teenage years and is slightly dismayed when she only rolls her eyes at him.

"Maybe tomorrow," she laughs, rising from the chair and making her way out from behind the counter. "As much fun as this has been, I am temporarily unemployed so I have nothing to do and the ocean beckons. Catch ya later, movie star."

"Movie star?" Dieter deadpans. "That's a good one."

"I mean, you are....aren't you?" She asks hesitantly before shaking her head. "You know what, nevermind. Doesn't matter."

Dieter watches her leave the office before flopping down in the recently vacated desk chair, hands running through his messy- and damnit she's right, unwashed- hair and gripping the ends.

"Fuck!"

Two years of almost complete anonymity gone in the space of 20 minutes. And found out by a reporter no less. Cute as she is and as much as Dieter enjoyed her company, he figures she's no better than the rest of the scum in her profession and he resolves to keep his distance.

"Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!"

That sums it up nicely he thinks. He's royally fucked.

Heart racing and nerves buzzing, Ava heads back to her room, her hands shaking so badly it takes her four tries to place the call she needs to make.

"Drew, Drew!" She yells down the line when he picks up.

"Ava, I'm busy. I don't have time for you to yell at me some more right now. Can it wait?"

"No, Drew, listen. Oh my God, listen. I am the luckiest girl in the world," she laughs, letting herself fall backwards onto the bed and sprawl there. "You will never believe the story that just practically landed in my lap. This could be the best three weeks of my life!"

"It's been less than an hour, Ava, what the hell kind of story could you have possibly found?"

"Dieter Bravo. I found Dieter fucking Bravo!"

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x ofc!ava #dieter bravo fic #cwams #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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oh-saints · 1 year

Text

sweetest devotion (p.4)

mason really should've listened what his sister had been saying all this time, that not everyone is what they seem...

playboy!mason x princess!OC

tw: as mentioned in the masterlist only, but particularly extramarital affair to a marriage of convenience AND VIOLENCE in this chapter

wc: 2.1k

note: as i've promised previously, here's some happ(ier) stuff for you guys! hope you like them! but as usual, i happen to write at dawn so this is not beta-read yet.

tags: @pingyu-in-wonderland @ironmaiden1313 @myreveriie<3 (lmk if you wanna be added!)

part 3 - part 5

sweetest devotion masterlist here

please don’t be late for the banquet.

was the last thing elena saw flashing from mason’s phone.

mason had never voiced out his inner frustration towards this whole one big mess they—including serena—were involved in, but elena knew better than the deep, resigned sighs mason let out just now. or every time he’d gotten a glimpse of serena’s name from his phone, which was rather often due to her tenacity to keep posting about her whereabout. or whenever someone brought up the sore topic of his (faux) marriage.

it still irked her that she still couldn’t have mason entirely, body and soul, despite living together for almost a season now. despite having him physically by her side almost 24/7, except on days he had to leave for practices and matches. now she had to have him apart for the formal banquet at the embassy of eldorra, as a consequence of marrying the country’s only princess.

I know, I know, elena groaned inwardly. it was only a night, but elena had to see pictures of mason and serena being a couple everyone dreams of plastered all over the news and social media posts by tomorrow morning. it might not be the married couple’s intention but surely the palace would love to blast how wonderful their marriage turned out to be, fanning the “ridiculous” gossips of the couple nobody saw coming. aka the bun in the oven.

elena couldn’t take it—heck, she never could. she would always play hard to get, yes, but it was solely for mason’s eyes. she’d never guess it’d backfire on herself, playing the jealousy card.

the mere thoughts of people fawning over their visuals would already drive her insane because she knew—god, did she know—that elena and mason would’ve smashed every other visual couples. she was a model, for god’s sake, and he was the teenage-heartthrob footballer.

the temptation to just wreck the banquet was already sitting on top of elena’s head, if it wasn’t for the fact that her career she’d so hard been building was at stake. because no matter what, she was up against a princess, a monarchy figure loved by her people, a respectable woman in the eyes of the world. of course elena would be the one everyone would throw tomatoes at, should she come out and expose the real deal.

heck, she couldn’t even tell a single soul because of it. no matter how supportive her friends are, elena would be on the short end of the sticks. they’d call out elena a crazy lady and tell her to stop deluding herself because her ex—from their point of view—was no longer available in the market. that elena was taking her grief and regret of losing mason way too harsh.

“don’t go,” elena would always beg him to stay behind, whenever mason was walking out of the door towards serena’s direction. be it picking up his fresh set of clothes—for whatever reason elena could never understand because he could’ve moved in all his stuffs—or be it for his monthly baby check-up.

tonight was no exception.

and mason would always answer, “you know I’ll be back soon, baby.”

but what if he never did? would elena still be able to stand time and place in this lifetime?

fuck’s sake, elena sobbed in frustration that she almost threw mason’s favourite choice of liquor from her hand to the nearest wall. what did she do to deserve this?

right, you broke mason’s heart and led him to serena.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

mason would be lying if he said his jaw didn’t fall onto the floor the moment serena stepped out of her room—his old guest room, mostly occupied by ben chilwell whenever he was over at mason’s—wearing a floor length tulle gown. one he’d recognised from the latest collection of the palace’s favourite designer, ellie saab.

serena, magically without even touching him, had no problem making his acting job tonight go smooth as silk.

call him shallow for all he cared, mason could feel his withstanding great wall of china he’d built around himself crumbling apart at the sight. and that should only mean a big fat red flag for him because he wasn’t supposed to feel this way. especially after the insane stunt she pulled weeks ago, endangering herself, the baby, and the identity of their fake marriage the moment she went down to Portsmouth to be by his mother’s side.

but how could he, when the room’s attention shifted to wherever serena went, that he had no choice but to aggravate his own towards his wife, who was now talking to the eldorran ambassador for the UK like they were good friends and not a princess and one of her subjects?

how could he not feel all these supposedly forbidden things when he watched her effortlessly forced everyone else in the room to keep up with her knowledge?

how could he not feel all these supposedly prohibited things when he watched her interacting with several little eldorrans like they were her own children, while looking so magnificently striking without even trying?

a total 180 degrees contrast to her usual garb of either smart pants or loungewear with cardigan wrapped around her. her hair was now clipped neatly into an updo, her make up was rather clean for a formal banquet but still had a dramatic effect around her eyes. her jewelleries could also be considered simple for the title she was bearing.

despite his description on serena going rather humble for her extravagant upbringing, mason had never seen someone who exuded an aura so… composedly dignified. regal. royal. despite his proud acclamation that he had always loved it when a woman knows how to carry herself well, no one was a worthy match to serena thermopolis of eldorra.

it was only then did he realise—again—that he had, indeed, married a princess all along.

the person who was usually silent while busily writing down her recipes and diaries colourfully on his kitchen counter—only talking whenever he asked her a question or whenever she wanted to report her whereabouts or whenever the baby’s concerned. even then, she’d cut down her replies to no more than 10 words in a sentence—was no more than an exterior she’d only put up whenever she was around.

slowly things dawned on him, especially scenes from weeks ago at the hospital. she certainly wasn’t silent if she could get along with his family.

“how are you settling into the married life, your highness?”

her smile was still plastered in her face prettily, albeit the strained edges of her eyes. “I have a wonderful husband right here,” as if on cue, mason stepped in closer to her and held her gently by the waist. they weren’t supposed to show affections in public but for some unbeknownst reason, mason wanted to. “I think it’s rather how he’s settling into the married life with me.”

was this how serena had always been, witty underneath the cold, calm beauty?

“we can’t actually believe it at first, the calm princess got married before her brothers,” another one spoke up, and mason could feel serena tensing at the implied gossip around the ton. in some fucked up way, it reminded him of the time they shared a ride home from Portsmouth, when she was left frozen at the sight mason losing his head.

was she scared of him?

“when you know a princess loves you with all her heart,” mason instinctively took the wheel, silently thanking heavens he paid attention to the short course on media play and handling Chelsea had prepared for their players. “what’s stopping you to marry her?”

while mason titled his head down to spare serena a glance, the woman’s vision remained locked to the honourable guests in front of her, a smaller smile etched on her face this time.

was he that blind to her being afraid of him?

or was it something else that he did?

who is serena thermapolis, anyway?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

mason couldn’t sleep afterwards. he’d trashed left and right to find a comfortable position or a cold surface of his sheet, he’d woken up every one or two hours on top of that.

unfortunately, mason knew it was not because of the ethereal sight of his wife cascading throughout the ballroom, impressing and charming everyone else while also impressing mason at her ability to divert the guests’ piqued curiosity of their marriage.

it was because it had been a while since the last time he’d occupied his bed. funny how he said his bed this time around, as if he’d gone back to Portsmouth and his mother told him his old bedroom was still available for him.

but as extreme urgent poundings grazed his door before he could drift himself to sleep, mason had never felt so lucky to be sleepless.

he immediately jumped off the bed, thinking nothing but grabbing his phone to call the police. he’d pressed the device already to his ear, ready to rant off about the intruder to his house. “serena?”

he called for his wife-on-paper not to make sure if it was her crazy antics, but it was because he wanted to make sure she was safe instead. and when his calls were only met by silence, he’d never dashed off for the stairs faster than that instance.

however, it turned out it was rather mason’s problem not catching on her voice. firstly because her room was downstairs, secondly because it slipped his mind that serena had never been brought up to raise her voice. because she was already standing at the doorframe, facing whoever had the lunatic guts to disturb his home so late into the night.

mason ran faster towards her direction because there was no way she was facing a criminal on her own, without protection or safety gears or whatsoever, as if it was her friends coming over to surprise her at midnight. “serena!”

but before he could reach her, serena had flown all the way across the porch from a well-placed, strong punch. before he could process what was happening, serena had sat up, holding her face with a hand while her other hand was holding her weight.

“what else do you want?”

before he could ask what she meant by that, a familiar figure launched herself towards serena like a tiger pouncing on her prey. “I told you before to leave mase alone!”

elena?

“and I will tell you over and over again to leave mase alone!”

mason couldn’t believe the scene unravelling before his very own eyes. like soap operas, the hidden lover kept hitting on the wife set up for him—grabbing the pregnant woman by the hair, launching slaps on her face, shoved her to the ground brutally while throwing cuss words at here every time the mistress relented her anger towards her.

was this what it felt like, when his favourite actor played out a scene where he died out other noises and people and surroundings because he couldn’t think anymore?

after what felt like an eternity, the scene where elena kicked a crouching serena, left and right endlessly, was what snapped him back to reality. that’s a pregnant lady, for god’s sake!

“leave,” mason stepped in between the two ladies, covering serena’s cowering figure with his body. as soon as his hands went around serena’s sides, he could feel her protecting her belly and mason had never felt so much anger emitting from his inside. “while I’m still nice.”

“mason—”

“I said, leave,” still wrapping his body around serena’s, mason mustered the coldest, meanest intonation as if it was his weekly battle on the pitch. “which part of the word that’s hard for you to understand?”

elena stood towering both mason and serena, yet she was the one that appeared small and scared. “mase—”

“leave!” mason had never shouted at a woman before but morality and courtesy were the last things on his mind right now. “I fucking told you to leave!”

“mason…” his lover whimpered, trying to reach for mason but the man only shook her hands away and stood up, looming over her this time as he pushed her off his property. “surely you’re mistaken, we can talk about this—”

in every of mason’s step forward was a step backwards for elena. in every of mason’s fuming step was elena’s panic spew of her so-called justification behind her actions. and before long, the man had pushed her off the edge of his home.

“if you come here again, I will not hesitate to call the police. you got me?”

next update:

“I need you to be honest with me, serena,” mason didn’t waste another breath after the doctor stepped away from her room. “the doctor said next time. when was the first time?”

“remember that one week you thought I went missing?”

#oh-saints writes #mason mount #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff #mason mount series #mason mount x oc #mason mount imagines #mason mount fics #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #football fanfiction #football fanfic #footballer x oc

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ornii · 1 year

Text

Bitterly Beautiful, Part 8

The Finale: Now Eye Am become death, Destroyer of Worlds.

"Wait.., run that back."

(Y/n) sits on his bed, as Wednesday stood before him, it was about ten minutes after Wednesday's exotic experience.

"So, you're telling me when we kissed, which by the way, absolutely amazing, Tyler ends up killing me?"

"Flattery only gets you so far." Wednesday responds coldly.

"It got me to those black Cherry flavored lips." He shoots back, Wednesdays face, as pale as it was showed hints of red as she blushed. She looked away scoffing.

"...Stop making me blush, i have a reputation to uphold.” She says, he stood up and smiles, gently taking her hand within his, he kisses Wednesday again, who this time reciprocated it with intensity. They stop their romantic escapade and he just smiles so warmly at his lovely death blossom.

"It's okay. I'll be okay... long as I've got you." He said, Wednesday this time, gripped his hands tighter.

"I refuse to allow Crackstone to prevail, which means Tyler.." she begins.

"We have to stop him, only question is how... we can always capture him." He says, "And to do that we'll need to bait a monster." (Y/n) says.

"I'll do it. It's not often I'm out into the jaws of a monster." She responds.

Tyler walks along the dark path into the forest to an awaiting Wednesday.

"Thing gave me your note. I was surprised you wanted to see me. So, uh, is this a date?" Tyler asks hopeful, and Wednesday keeps her calm demeanor.

"It's a surprise. When I came to Nevermore, romance was the last thing on my mind. But when (Y/n) kissed me, it opened my eyes and suddenly it all made sense. (y/n) warned me about you, about Normens, but I didn't listen. Which lead to me framing Xavier for murder while the real Hyde helped me put him away."

"Wait... you don't think..."

"I don't think. I know. Kinbott probably discovered your secret during one of your sessions. So she unlocked you. Why'd you kill her? I thought Hydes were typically loyal to their masters."

"Wednesday, this is nuts."

"On Outreach Day, I told you I was visiting the old meeting house. Did Kinbott send you to spy on me? I have to hand it to you, Tyler, using the gates house as a death trap to try to kill (Y/n), the one person who could have seen through your Facade, a masterstroke of misdirection."

"Okay, stop. Do you know how insane you sound right now? I'm not a monster. A... And if you really thought that I was, why would you risk bringing me out to the woods to confront me alone?"

"Who said I was alone?" She responds, Tyler hears someone step from behind a tree and turns around to (Y/n).

"Hello Tyler." He says coldly, as Tyler looks back at Wednesday.

"Okay, I don't know what kind of sick joke you're playing, but I'm out of here."

"Actually... you're not going anywhere." Tyler turns around as (Y/n) blows magic dust into his eyes; he stumbles around and hits the ground unconscious.

"Carry his Body." Wednesday said.

"You could ask nicer." (Y/n) said annoyed.

"Carry his body.. please." She says sarcastically. He smirks and picks him up with ease.

"Anything for you my Death Trap." He says Mimicking Gomez' accent. He walks off and Wednesday folds her arms.

"As much as i absolutely despise to admit this... but Perhaps I was wrong when I said I wouldn't find someone.. I won't admit it, that is a sizable crow I do not wish to eat."

Tyler slowly comes to, inside Xavier's art room, as (Y/n) and Wednesday are side by side.

"Welcome back."

"Where the hell am I?"

"Somewhere no one can hear your screams."

"What's with the chains?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, Tyler." (Y/n) said, and Tyler begins to plead.

"Wednesday, this is crazy. I'm a normie."

"That's only half true." Wednesday shows the fencing photo of her mother, but points to a woman in the background.

"Do you recognize her? Perhaps if I hadn't been so distracted by my own mother hogging this photo, I would have noticed yours sooner. Your father fell in love and married an outcast."

"My mom was an outcast. That doesn't make me a monster."

"According to her personal medical records—"

"You stole her medical records?"

"Technically, Thing did. He took them from your garage. Your father's quite the pack rat. Her postpartum depression triggered her condition."

"My mom had severe bipolar disorder."

"We both know that's a lie." (Y/n) said, he walks over closer to Tyler.

"Your dad must be worried you'll get the same condition your mother did. Well I guess his worries were warranted." He said, he turns his attention to Wednesday who, draws a pair of tasers.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" (Y/n) asked.

"Just some light torture. Don't worry, I won't leave a mark." She says, There's only one thing that a Hyde understands. Pain."

"Wait! No, Wednesday! Wednesday!" Tyler pleads as she tases him, (Y/n) can't look away, he can still feel it, the lighting coursing though Tyler, the stinging pain.

"Don't kill him! He's useless if he dies, he has to admit the truth, admit it!" (Y/n) yells, "You killed innocent people, tried to kill Me! Wednesday, Enid Eugene! The pain will stop when you accept what you've done." He says, his ears perk up and almost like a feral animal he jerks his head to the door.

"People are surrounding us.." he said, Wednesday stops and turns to him.

"How?"

"The only way is that they tracked his phone, we have to escape, you do. I'll use my crows to—"

"You need to leave, (Y/n)." Wednesday said, and (Y/n) turns to her. "What? I can't leave you!"

"Yes you can, If you value your relationship with Me, and Enid, you will leave before you're arrested. If I cannot protect Nevermore it's up to you." She says, he sighs and grips his cane.

"Fine.." he says somberly, he slams his cane down and crows begin to fly into hatches and cracks, they surround him and somehow he disappears, using dark magic. Just then, the door bursts open to the sheriff.

"Get away from my son! Drop it. Drop it!" He yells, and Wednesday drops the tasers. Wednesday is apprehended and brought to the station as weems is inside.

"Sheriff Galpin isn't pressing kidnapping charges. Which is a miracle given the circumstances."

"Of course not. How long have you known?"

"Excuse me?"

"When I gave you that claw from the cave, did you already know?"

"Wednesday, that's enough."

"Xavier Thorpe is our Hyde. We've got evidence, thanks to you. That's why I'm giving you one pass."

"Tyler is going to turn on you too." She says Before Weems es courts her out, but Tyler catches up to her

"We... Wednesday, wait."

"Tyler! No, no, what are you doing?"

"I need to talk to her, Dad. She was my friend. We're in a police station. What's gonna happen?" He says, and Galpin, his father gives in.

"Make it quick." He says, Weems leaves as the two are alone.

"What do you want?" She asks.

To ask a question. What does it feel like?" Tyler asks

"What does what feel like?" Wednesday responds, and almost like a switch goes off in his head, his calm quiet demeanor turns cynical, cold and, murderous.

"...To lose. You know, at first, I'd wake up naked, covered in blood, no idea what happened. But over time, I started to remember everything. The sound of their screams, the panic in their eyes, and a fear so primal I could taste it. And it was delicious. You have no idea what's coming. I'll tell you so you won't have to find out, (Y/n) is going to die... and I will make sure his last few moments will be absolutely agonizing." Tyler stepped back and, oddly his demeanor changes again and he leaves.

The next morning arose, and it was the last day for Wednesday.

"The quid pro quo for Sheriff Galpin not pressing charges is your immediate expulsion from Nevermore."

"You do realize that Tyler brutally disemboweled six people, then harvested a variety of their body parts."

"Perhaps if you'd come to me with your suspicions rather than take matters into your own hands, we could've worked together."

"Because trust and cooperation have always been hallmarks of our relationship."

"I admire your ability to be your own person and trust your own instincts. But that also makes you impatient and impulsive. Your actions have put me and the school in an impossible position." M

"Tyler is the Hyde. And he has framed Xavier. He confessed everything to me!"

"I wish I could believe you."

"His mother was an outcast. She was a student here, you must remember her. She was a Hyde!"

"Yes, Francois. A lovely woman. I didn't ask what she identified as."

"Then give me more time, and I can prove they are Hydes."

"There is no more time, and there are no more deals, Wednesday. Pack your steamer trunks. We will have them shipped. And say your goodbyes. You'll be on the afternoon train today. I'm sorry Nevermore didn't work out for you, Wednesday. I'm sure your mother will be very disappointed. And so am I." Weems gives a sigh of disappointment, (Y/n) was in his room, pacing back and forth. He stopped as he gripped his cane, grinding his teeth.

"God Damnit!" He yells, wanting to punch something. "How could I be so damn gullible!" He says with more ferocity, he turns to Xavier's empty bed. He pictures Wednesday sitting there, and speaks on her behalf, she opens her mouth but no words come out, only his voice.

"You're letting your emotions overtake you again." Fake Wednesday said.

"Of course I am! Tyler kills so many people, Xavier gets blamed for it, and he gets away with it! And now you're being expelled! There's a chance I'll never see you again! The first girl I kiss she gets expelled for torture."

"What I did was to assure Nevermore has protectors, you, Enid, Bianca and others. You may not agree with my method but you are Nevermores Last hope. Take solace in that, what do you plan to do?"

(Y/n)'s breath became more animalistic, almost low growling.

"... I'm gonna kill him, I'll turn Tyler's family tree into a god damn pile of ash!" He says, the Fake Wednesday stands up and walks up behind him.

"And if Tyler stood behind that door?"

"I'd vaporize him without a second thought."

"...Good, your emotions are strong, but don't let them overpower you, you always let them overtake you. Let them fuel your body for what you have prepared." Wednesday said, and as if on queue, the door is knocked upon. (Y/n) slowly approaches; almost itching to open his eyes, he grasped the handle of the door and opens it. But it was his Surrogate Sister, Enid.

"Oh, am I interrupting?" She says, he wastes no time hugging her tightly, which catches her off guard.

"Enid you're okay! Yeah, I'm fine.." he lets her go, which she adjusts her uniform.

"Yeah, that's good to hear! Wednesday told me what happened, if Tyler is the Hyde then when it fought you at the Manor.."

"Tyler was trying to kill us to silence us, pretty obvious now, but hindsight is 20/20 I guess. But how's Wednesday? I'll go help her—"

"About.. that." Enid says as it catches the confusion of (Y/n).

"What?"

"Okay, don't freak out but, Weems basically said toy can't come near Wednesday until she leaves Nevermore." Enid says, (Y/n) looks absolutely baffled by it, In sheer disbelief.

"She said it was to makes sure that you and her don't plan anything, not my words." She said and (Y/n) sighs, he looks even more distraught and Enid tries to cheer him up.

"Look, I'll relay any message you have for her." Enid says, and (Y/n) turns back to face her.

"...Any, message?" He says and Enid nods, which was a terrible mistake.

"Enid returns back to the dorm where Wednesday is packing, she decides to help any way possible.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to miss your creepy, lifeless eyes waking me up. It won't be the same without you."

"So I assume you'll be moving in with Yoko. Leaving me in the past."

"Not ever. What about you? Will you forget about me?" Enid said sadly, and Wednesday says something nice to her?

"Enid... the mark you have left on me is indelible. Anytime I grow nauseous at the sight of a rainbow or hear a pop song that makes my ears bleed, I'll think of you." which is Wednesdays version of "I'll never forget you." Which brightens Enid up a little, "Thanks. I guess."

"I always believed relying on other people to be a sign of weakness. That inevitably they would lead me to disappointment. Turns out I've been the disappointment."

"Are you kidding me? I've learned so much from you. Part of it is admittedly criminal behavior, but... most people spend their entire lives pretending to give zero effs, and you literally never had an eff to give. Any chance you've got some sort of sneaky plan to elude Weems?" Enid asks.

"No, Xavier's right. This prophecy cannot come true if I'm not here. But it kills me to leave when Tyler is still walking around free."

"If he tries anything, we have a school full of gorgons, vampires, and werewolves, ready and waiting. Especially (Y/n), We've got this, Wednesday. I promise. On a good note, I got a text from Eugene's moms. He woke up last night. Maybe Weems'll let you drop by on your way to the station." Enid says, thing Snaps his fingers and Wednesday nods at this.

"I think we're all set."

"Thing, I'm going to miss our makeup tutorials. And you better keep sending me moisturizing tips. Stay in touch, okay?" She says, Enid turns to Wednesday offering a hug. "So, we're gonna... You're right. Not hugging is kind of our thing. But..." Enid says sadly and looks a bit uncomfortable.

"What?" Wednesday says.

"Weems forbade him from seeing you in case you two had planned a escape route.."

"I see, I suppose I expected this."

"And... (Y/n) left a present.." Enid says but looks really reluctant to say what it is. Wednesday picks up on her idling.

"Enid we don't have much time, whatever horrid present (Y/n) has concocted will not phase me." Wednesday says with a lot of confidence, Enid braces And moves in, giving her the tiniest peck on the cheek, Wednesday freezes and just stares at Enid who looks a bit horrified.

"Sorry! Sorry! (Y/n) Said to do that.." Enid Looks ready to run for the hills, awaiting Wednesdays response, she takes a deep sigh and calms herself.

"You two make me want to vomit sometimes." She says, there's a knock on the door and then it opens to Weems.

"Wednesday. This time I'm personally escorting you to your train."

"...I have one final favor." Wednesday said.

Eugene has finally awoken in the hospital, sitting solemnly inside his bed, he's quickly surprised by the arrival of Wednesday.

"Wednesday!"

"Eugene. Glad to see you're finally awake."

"I heard you visited all the time."

"Don't ever mention it again. Listen, I've been meaning to tell you... I shouldn't have gone to the dance. I should have been with you."

"When the dance floor calls, you gotta answer. I heard you and (Y/n) stole the whole night away! It's not your fault. It's the monster's."

"It's actually called a Hyde. It's still out there. You can't go back to Nevermore. Not even to check on your bees. And you have to listen to me this time."

"I thought hummers were supposed to stick together. That night in the woods, someone set fire to that cave."

"Yes, Dr. Kinbott."

"It's so crazy that it was her. I don't really remember any of it. I just saw someone wearing black and those boots."

"...What about her boots?" Wednesday said.

"There was an explosion of light and just for a moment, I saw that they weren't black. They were red." He says, and Wednesdays face was actually shocked. And she goes to Weems quickly. There's only one person who could do all this, and with that last bit of information all the pieces fell together.

Thornhill was in her botany class, preparing a syringe of nightshade. She turns around to begin her tests when Wednesday appears behind her.

"Wednesday! I thought you'd be halfway to New Jersey by now."

"You can drop the act, Laurel. I should have known it was you. Faking your death, securing a job at Nevermore, unlocking a Hyde. Typically, I have great admiration for well-executed revenge plots. But yours was a bit extreme, even for my high standards."

"Oh, dear. Weems was right. You do need psychiatric help. Can't throw out wild accusations without consequences."

"They may be wild... but they're true. Tyler told me everything." Tyler slowly steps out from the shadows behind Wednesday.

"Initially I incorrectly accused Kinbott of using hypnosis to unlock him. But you used a plant-derived chemical, didn't you? I know your father kept tabs on all the outcasts in town. So I assume he told you about the Galpin family secret when you were just a girl. That's why you targeted Tyler. You manipulated him by showing him what his mother truly was. What Tyler didn't realize is that truth wouldn't free him. It would enslave him to you. That was scary at first, so you used the cave and the shackles. But eventually he willingly became your servant. And when Kinbott came close to discovering the truth, you had Tyler kill her and pin it on Xavier." Wednesday explained the entire plan, Thornhill sighs and removes her glasses.

"Ugh. That's enough. Tyler, honey, make Mama happy and shut her up. Permanently."

"He's not on your side."

"Tyler will do anything for me. Remember what I told you? I showed you who you really are. What they did to your mother...The outcasts made you a monster."

"If you only hate outcasts, why is he killing normies as well?"

"They're just pawns in a bigger game. Just like you, Wednesday. Once again, you've underestimated the situation. You were never getting on that train. I sent Tyler to intercept you."

"I never made it to the station. Heard enough?" Wednesday asks Tyler, Thornhill looks a bit confused and watches as Tyler transforms into Weems.

"Your slave is probably still at the station." Wednesday said, Thornhill looks caught in a trap, a trap she cannot weasel her way out.

"Don't make this more difficult than it already is, Marilyn." Weems said sadly, Laurel, enraged snaps.

"My name is Laurel!" she jams the syringe into the neck of Weems, poisoning her. Weems collaspes, choking as the nightshade. Wednesday rushes to her side.

"Principal Weems! Principal Weems!" She says, but the poison courses though her veins, and Weems perishes.

"Nightshade poisoning. A fitting end, don't you think?" Wednesday turns to Thornhill who knocks hero it cold with a shovel. She drags Wednesday away, little does Thornhill know, Thing is watching, he runs off to find (Y/n). (Y/n) was still in his room, actually contemplating murder, he feels aggressive thumping on his window and he walks over to it, he senses a small thing moving.

"Thing?" He opens it and thing leaps in and begins to frantically tap.

"Woah woah slow down.. what's wrong?" He stops and thumps away.

"Weems? Thornhill? Where did they take her?! What do you mean you don't know?!" He stands up and runs to his window.

"IGVIND!" He yells, he steps back and soon crows come flying in. They sit at different places.

"Wednesday is missing, find her, now!" He yells, he snaps his fingers and they fly out in droves. He turns to Thing.

"Go get Enid! I'm checking the greenhouse." He said before leaving quickly, he rushes out of the room and heads to the Greenhourse. Wednesday groggily awakens from her beating, which Tyler watches her. She hangs from her cuffs from a hook.

"Kind of a déjà vu thing we got going on, huh?" He says with a smirk.

"Except I won't cry and whine like a child."

"Tyler, go wait by the boat." Laurel says, preparing the ritual. "Yes. Listen to your master and be a good little Hyde." Wednesday keeps her stern demeanor as Tyler leaves.

"I have to admit..that shape-shifting stunt with Weems almost worked. But as my father always said, "If you want to outsmart an outcast, you got to out-think 'em." You know, we have roots that go all the way back to Joseph Crackstone."

"So you come from a line of psychotic killers too."

"Joseph Crackstone was a visionary, dedicated to protecting normies from outcasts until his life was cut short by your ancestor, Goody Addams. And then, to add insult to injury, they stole his land to build that abomination of a school. But, throughout the centuries, my family has remained committed to Crackstone's mission. My brother died serving that cause. I decided to take a different approach. The supernatural." Laurel places jars of human body parts with Tesla coils at the top of them surrounding the coffin.

"Tyler's been collecting these body parts to resurrect Crackstone. The one man who nearly succeeded in eradicating the outcasts. You can't wake the dead. Believe me, I've tried."

"I believe your ancestor Goody Addams would disagree." Laurel shows the book.

"Goody's Book of Shadows. You're the one that stole the original from Pilgrim World."

"It wasn't enough for Goody to kill Crackstone. She had to curse his soul too."

"What does this have to do with me? My dear Wednesday, you are the key. Your arrival at Nevermore set the chubby wheels of my plan in motion. You see, Goody sealed Crackstone in his sarcophagus with a blood lock, as Revenge for Killing her Lover, Cianán, she views it as blood for blood. And "Only one of her direct descendants can open it. You are the key. A living descendant on the night of a blood moon. So... I bided my time, and I made you feel special until you were ready to be sacrificed." Laurel caresses Wednesdays bleeding head, only to take the blood from her and smear it on the seal and open Goodys book, she begins to speak in Latin. Soon the jars begin to light up! Electricity dancing between them. Black smoke begins to emulate from the coffin and it bursts open! Crackstone has been resurrected! The impact throws Wednesday off of the hook and she hits the ground. Using this opportunity she begins to unshackle herself. Crackstone, now a decrepit demon is greeted by Laurel..

"I am of your blood. I have summoned you to rid the world of outcasts once and for all." she says and Kisses his ring.

"My vengeance will be swift and true."

"As will mine." Wednesday prepares to fight Crackstone, but the man grabs the girl by the neck, lifting her up.

"Goody Addams. You haunt me still. You will suffer the same fate you bequeathed me. Now burn in the eternal fires of hell." he says smiling, Wednesdays legs flail, until a "Shink" is heard, she swings the foot blade (Y/n) gave her, right into the unmentionables of Crackstone who growls in pain and drops her, Wednesday stood up, but only to receive a dagger to the side by Laurel.

"Go to hell, Where you belong. Sweet dreams, Wednesday!" She says, as she watches Wednesday collapse down. The two, now satisfied with their revenge leave Wednesday to bleed to death. As she lies on a pool of her slowly cooling blood, Goody appears.

"Wednesday."

"Are you here to take me to the other side?"

"Listen, Crackstone must be stabbed through his black heart. It is the only way he will be vanquished now and forever."

"Is your spectral vision impaired? I'm dying." Wednesday said, but the doors open from the crypt, and she can only turn to see the shadow of a man approaching, goody sees it, and her eyes go wide.

"Cianán." She says, the man runs to the side of Wednesdays to see it's (Y/n) he looks absolutely panicked.

"Wednesday! It's okay! I'm here now, Cmon. Just, relax." He says, he begins to do what he can.

"When I remove the knife, be ready I'll have to use Cauterization. Just, deep breath. He begins to cast a bit of magic on his finger. He grips the blade and Wednesday takes a deep breath. He quickly pulls the blade from her side. He then places his burning finger along her abdomen to close the wound witu heat. She grabs his hand, squeezing it hard as she tries to keep the sounds of pain low, but it was a low whimper. As the wound is close. He picks her up like his bride to be. He smiles so happily.

"Thank god I found you! Thing told me what happened! Cmon we have to get you somewhere safe." He rushes out with her in tow and Wednesday begins to move.

"I can walk by myself now, thank you for saving me.." she said, he hugs her.

"I'm never gonna leave you side, you know that." He says, but their reunion was interrupted by Tyler.

"Laurel said you were dead."

"I'm feeling much better now."

"You're like a cockroach."

"Please, flattery will get you nowhere." She says, and they watches Tyler transform into the Hyde, (Y/n) steps up with his cane, ready to fight him.

"I've been waiting for this!" He charges at Tyler, who swings at him, he ducks under and leaps into his back, chocking him again witu his cane. But this time flyer predicts it and spins, hurling him into a tree. (Y/n) slowly begins to get up, but a pair of claws slam him into the tree. Tyler squeezes his neck, choking the life out of (Y/n) Wednesday rushes over to help but gets swatted away. Tyler raises his hand against, before a howl echoes and something tackles the Hyde. He drops down coughing to sense a pale werewolf, the smell lingers. He slowly backs away, wondering what evil this could be, the werewolf turns to him, seemingly happy, he sniffs the air and smells something. Full Moon Nail polish.

"Enid? You.. you did it!" He says so happy, Tyler rose to fight and (Y/n) feels Wednesday grab his arm.

"We need to get back to the school, Crackstone is going to kill everyone!"

"But, Enid—"

"Enid isn't some little girl, she can handle herself, she's really done it." Wednesday said, Enid turns to them with a reassuring bark. (Y/n) shakily sighs.

"Okay, Go get Em! And Enid.. I'm so proud of you." He says, she can't help but smile and charges to hold off Tyler. (Y/n) and Wednesday run off to stop Crackstone, who enters the main area. As students run, Laurel smiles

"I can't tell you how I've longed for this moment, what it means for my family."

"Silence, woman! Be gone, or I will cut thy tongue from thy wretched mouth!"

"...Never meet your heroes." Laurel says before leaving.

"I will expunge you abominations from this Earth!" Crackstone yells.

"Howdy, pilgrim." He turns around to see Wednesday, still alive, her heart still beating.

"How canst thy heart still beat? What demon sorcery is this?" He yells, he turns around as (Y/n) comes leaping off a floor to attack, Crackstone uses his staff to halt him in his place and then hurl him into a Pilar breaking it. It lands on his back and he struggles to get up, Wednesday now faces off against Crackstone, (Y/n) reaches for his cane and hurls it.

"Wednesday!" He yells and she catches it.

"Twist the Handle!" He yells and she does, she hears a mechanism unlock, she begins to pull and reveal its true power, a blade! A cane sword!" Wednesdays and Crackstone do battle, using her more reflexes to avoid his attacks, but with his magic she is unfortunately no match, using his staff to pin her down. (Y/n) pushes the pillar off of him and charges at Crackstone, using his strength he slams him into the ground and begins to pummel on him. Each punch having a deep impact. Before he can continue, Crackstone used his staff against to slam the blind hero into the fountain. And choke him. He leers over (Y/n).

"I will siphon the life out of you! And then goody! I'll put an end to your twisted bloodline!" He laughs, his cackling just enraged (Y/n), so much that he has no choice. And with a final visceral scream

He opens his eyes.

As if hell itself explodes, Crackstone and Wednesdays were blown away. She can only watches as flames dance around (Y/n), his shadow growing like a multiple armed demon. The flames Grow in ferocity as the blinding heat from his opening bellows though the world itself seemingly. Crackstone slowly backs away, seeing that his left arm, was completely disintegrated into ash. He can watch as (Y/n) walks from the flames, his shadow now has transformed into a monster with multiple arms. He sees (y/n) stands there and utter a chilling quote.

"Now I am become death... the destroyer of Worlds.."

(Y/n) opens his eyes as only flashes of gold bellow form it, as a wave of golden death blasts from his eyes, turning Crackstone into nothing but ash. He closes his eyes again, and he turns to look for Wednesday, who approaches him. He smiles and hugs her, and finally.. Wednesday hugs back. His smile quickly fades as he grabs her and spins, they swap places as a bullet hits his back, Wednesday watches him lurch forward. She peers past him to Laurel.

"I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I'll get to kill you." She says and unloads more, (Y/n) grabs Wednesday, making sure they don't hit her, but seven rounds riddles hud back, and he collapses onto the ground. Wednesday rolls (Y/n) into his back as he chokes on his own blood. His eyes open once more, and Laurel turns to ash, he laughs before us body gives out and Wednesday grabs him.

"(Y/n)! Hold on! I'll get you to the hospital you just need to—" She winces in pain trying to pick him up, but his hand gently holds hers, as he feels his grip slowly start to, weaken, Wednesday holds her emotions together, but she slowly began to crumble as she can only see him choke on the blood filling his lungs.

"(Y/n) if you die on me I will kill you.." she didn't say it out of anger or hatred, it was fear that her vision was coming to fruition.

"... Please don't leave me." She says, and a single tear falls down her cheek, her voice was shaking, so scared.

"Heh.." he laughs, he opens his eyes, and Wednesday finally sees them, and he sees her, the power has seemingly been snapped from them, and she looks at his beautiful eyes. He smiles though the blood coated grin.

"I did say, I'd burn the world down.. just to see you... totally worth it." He says smiling, but his grin slowly fades, and so does the light in his eyes. His grip is no longer there. Wednesday was now truly ocvercome with emotion, tears fell but she didn't cry, she just stares at his body. More students began to fill the main room. Enid approaches and was in disbelief, she fell to her knees and wept. Wednesday closes her eyes and truly felt despair, before Goody kneels down next to her.

"Wednesday." She says, Wednesday turned to goody and she touched (Y/n).

"Allow me to save him, I was not able to save my Cianán, but allow me to save yours." She says, her body begins to dissipate into dust, and there's silence, besides Enids painful cries, Wednesdays places her head on his chest, and hears a single thump.

"Enid stop! He's alive! We have to get him to the hospital, now!"

One Week Later.

(Y/n)'s eyes open to a hospital room, he struggles to sit up but sees that his wounds have healed naturally. He sees the countless flowers and such for him and he sees Enid snoring on his lap. He chuckled and pets her.

"Hey, sleepyhead." He says, Enid grumbled and opens her eyes, she finally processes what's going on and hugs him so hard.

"(Y/N)!" She yells, crying. He laughs and does as well.

"It's so good to see you!" He said, she holds on for what seems to be forever before letting go. Enid wipes her mascara off.

"When I saw all that blood I was so scared and Wednesday said you were okay.. and you spend a week in here and...and.. and.." Enid was trying to speak and was too busy trying not to cry, so it just came out as a jumbled mess. He just pets her.

"Hey, calm down, but I gotta know, how did it feel the wolf out finally?"

"It felt, different, new... thanks to you. You always had my back." She says, "What are besties for? Where's Wednesday?" He asks, Enid smiles so warmly at that.

Wednesday was sitting in the dorm room on the bed, staring at the ground. She was just wearing black shorts and (Y/n)'a hoodie. Enid steps in giddy and she smiles.

"So.. how are you feeling?"

"Absolutely dreadful."

"Oh, so nothings changed... well someone wants to see you."

"Enid I don't wish to speak to anyone." Wednesday said, a person steps in and Enid sits on her bed smiling, a person kneels down to face Wednesday and her eyes look up to (Y/n).

"... you're, not a ghost are you?"

"What? Have you been seeing ghosts?" He laughs and Wednesday slowly begins to grow in anger.

"Are you.. Serious?"

"Heh... what?" He asks confused, Wednesday stands up, and begins to approach him, he slowly backs away at the same time.

"You get yourself shot, and you die, and the first thing you say to me is some stupid joke?" Wednesday said fuming, (Y/n)'a attitude shifts to absolute fear. “Does my concern for your well-being mean absolutely anything to you?” She says, her voice growing in anger, (Y/n) felt another breach in death approaching.

"I-I mean well.."

"I, hate you." Wednesday said, which hurt (Y/n).

"Wednesday I—"

"Silence, I hate how you made me feel, I hate it when you smile, I hate it when you grab my hands and make me fluster, I hate it when you make terrible jokes only to annoy and or amuse me. I hate it when you're always at my side even when I don't deserve it, I hate it when you treat me like you aren't scared of me, like I'm a normal person”

when I'm not. I hate that you care about me, when I don't deserve it.... I hate how much you love me..

"Just as much as i hate how much I... love you." Wednesday said, admitting her love. (Y/n) didn't know what to say, and she just grabbed his face and kissed him. Without any stopping his hands wrapped around her waist and pushed their lips deeper into each other, he picks her up and Carrie's her off to her bed and lies her down, crawling on top he presses his lips back into hers, and Wednesdays grips his button up and tears it off, he kissed her neck, letting Wednesday finally enjoy the reward she so desperately fought for. The slightest moan escapes from her purse lips as his hand slowly slides along her leg, further upward.

As the two, like wild animals go at it, Enid watches absolutely horrified as his jacket landed at her feet.

"Ahem, AHEM!" She says louder, the two stop and turn to face her. Their lips part and they realize Enid was still there. They quickly get off of each other and sit there.

"You two are so... cute!" She says, "Did you remember she was here?" (Y/n) whispers.

"I did, I just didn't care." She responds. A sigh comes from (Y/n). But rather complaining he spends the rest of the day with his closest Allies. But all good things must come to said end, (Y/n) woke in his bedroom and began to Yawn, he attempts to stretch but a vise like grip was on him, Wednesday. She decided to sleep over in his dorm. She hasn’t let him out of her sight since his death.

“Wednesday?” He says, she awakens, with a tiny yawn like a deadly kitten, (Y/n) attempts to hold in his urge to mush her adorable face.

“Is it Morning?” She asks.

“Yes, so… can you let me—“

“No.”

“… Wednesday you’ll have to let me go eventually, I won’t get killed going to the bathroom.”

“…”

“Please?” He asks, She relents and lets him go, he smiles and gently kisses her forhead. Eventually getting dressed and entering the principals old room, The Trio stand inside the Principals office..

"I hate to admit, but I am gonna miss Principal Weems." Enid says.

"She could be a real pain." (Y/n) Said calmly.

"But she was tough. And she died for the one thing she truly loved, this school. For that, I have immense respect." Wednesday said.

"She was one of us. So...Now that classes are canceled for the semester, you have to come visit me in San Francisco." Enid says smiling.

"I can pretty much guarantee fog and drizzle every day. Your kind of weather." (Y/n) adds in.

"Sounds tempting." She says, they enter the foyer as Enid goes to get her things, and (Y/n) gives her one final gift, a phone.

"So... Welcome to the 21st century, Addams. My number's in there already." (Y/n) said, just a way for us to keep in contact. "That's a bold move. I hope you're not expecting me to call." She says.

"No, I'm just awaiting your desperate need to see your man."

"As egotistical as ever, but.. while It will he dreadful to depart, how can I assure you'll never wary?"

"Wednesday I'd never look at another girl.." (Y/n) says.

"I know...but I cannot say the same for the numerous harlots here, so I just mark my territory." Wednesday said.

".... you're not gonna like, pee on me are you?" (Y/n) asks scared, Wednesday scoffs and just grabs his tie, she yanks him into a long deep kiss in front of everyone, she lets him go as he just stands there.

"Any woman who would even dare getting their lips that close to yours not know the consequences."

"Uh.. how do you know that would work?" He asks, and he sees Wednesday, smirk?"

"I'm very perceptive." She responds, he couldn't help but smile at that.

"...I'm really gonna miss you. My little nightmare." He says.

"... I'll miss you too." She replies and leaves, as Wednesday departs, she opens her phone to find two contacts, (Y/n), and Enid. And a mysterious message, which shows pictures of her and (Y/n) talking and the words "I see you."

"My very first stalker. Maybe this forced vacation will be more interesting than I imagined. Unlike my novel, not every thread has been tied up, nor every question answered. Secrets are still lurking in the dark corners of Jericho. Were Laurel Gates and Tyler just pawns in a bigger game? Will today's stalker become tomorrow's nemesis? I know the suspense is killing you.."

"My first girlfriend, I'll admit didn't expect it to be a emotionally castrated Emo. And I gotta say I love it, Nevermore was never normal but she made it abnormal, and to think that this is only my second year! I know you're all dying to know what happens next well...

"I guess you just have to wait and.. See."

To be continued…

Until season 2 of course…

#netflix #male reader #reader insert #wedensday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x male reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #fluff #enid sinclair

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blueskittlesart · 9 months

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hiiiiiiii so um. ik a while back you posted a doodle of yourself with short hair and i’ve been thinking about cutting mine short—do you have any tips about picking a style or anything that might not be obvious about having short hair?

oh fuck yes I do! I've had short-medium hair in a few different styles since I was thirteen (im 20 now, so it's been a while) and I recently buzzed my head for the second time so i'm pretty experienced in this area lol!

first thing you should know is that if anyone has ever suggested that you don't have the "facial structure" for short hair or that you're not gonna look good with it is full of shit. no one tells men they don't have the face for short hair. i promise it's gonna look good. chop that shit off

in terms of style, be aware of the amount of work the style you pick is going to take. when I first cut my hair short the reference photo I gave my stylist was of a heavily styled cut--something that would take gel and hairspray and a lot of effort to maintain every day. The base cut was fine, but it didn't look like my reference photo without a ton of effort on my part, and at 13 I wasn't really willing to put that kind of effort in, so my hair ended up unstyled and kind of flat and weird for a while. if you're someone that doesn't like to put a ton of work into styling their hair every day, pick a style you can just wake up and go with. my personal favorite lazy bitch haircut is the buzzcut that i currently have. insanely low maintenance and comes with the added benefit of stopping weird men from talking to you in public. perfect haircut.

Also be aware of how your cut is going to grow out and/or how often you're going to have to get it trimmed to keep it looking the same way. that was something i remember being really surprised about when i first cut my hair off--when your hair gets to a certain length, it grows more slowly and you don't have to cut it as regularly to maintain its health and your look. when you have shorter hair, your hair grows FAST, and if you're not planning on growing it out you're going to need much more regular trimming to keep it in check. Make sure that that's in your budget or that you have the time and skill to trim it back yourself! Alternatively, if you're planning on growing it out after the cut, look into how it's gonna grow out so you know what to expect in terms of look and styling. I like to buzz my head mid-summer and let it grow out for about a year before shaving it all off again, because I know that I like all the stages of growing out that cut and I know how to style all of them. there's always gonna be an awkward stage of growing out your hair, but make sure that you're not gonna spend a ton of time hating your look just to get your length back if that's your plan!

my final advice: if you're looking for a specifically masculine haircut as an afab person, do not go to the same older female stylist you've been going to since you were 10 years old. trust me. You can show that woman a picture of a whole grown man for reference and you will still be leaving with a karen cut. she is incapable of giving you what you want. Either try to find a stylist who you trust to use your reference faithfully, go to a male barber, or cut it yourself! especially if you're going for a simple buzzcut or something similar, it's really easy to cut your own hair at home with a pair of electric clippers from amazon. I've been cutting my hair with safety scissors and some clippers borrowed from a friend for going on 4 years now. it's easier than you think!! youtube tutorials are your best friend.

now onto things you might not know:

listen to me. this is the single most important piece of advice i can give you. buy spray-on sunscreen and SPRAY YOUR FUCKING HEAD. there is no hell like a peeling sunburn all over your fucking scalp. it will happen and you will not expect it and you will want to die. you are going to think your hair is thick enough that it won't happen and it is going to happen anyway. do not take chances with this shit

you do NOT need nearly as much shampoo and conditioner for a short cut as you are instinctively going to put in your hands after years of having long hair. think, proportionately, about the product-to-hair ratio you were using BEFORE your haircut, and do not squirt out more than like a nickel-sized pool of product at the absolute most. your bank account and your hair will thank you.

short hair still needs to be taken care of especially if you're bleaching/otherwise chemically treating it regularly! if you're putting harsh chemicals in your hair you should be using restorative treatments afterwards regardless of length. no matter how short your hair is it can still get stringy and gross and break!!

in that same vein, you CANNOT be applying bleach to your short hair in the same way you do for your long hair. listen to me. Drugstore bleach cannot be sitting directly on your scalp for more than 20 minutes. if your hair is short, any amount of bleach you put in it is going to end up sitting directly on your scalp. i know it's tedious to do multiple passes but chemical burns are even more tedious. please do not put bleach on your skin

also in regards to bleaching/color, keep in mind that your semipermanent color is probably going to have less longevity in your short hair than it did in your long hair. Since all your hair is close to your scalp now, it's taking the brunt of your shampoo regimen and therefore the dye is going to wash out quicker than it would in long hair where most of the dye is further away from the scalp. if you're regularly trimming your hair to keep it your desired length, you're also going to be cutting out a lot more color than you would by just trimming dead ends on long hair. you may find yourself spending more on hair dye if you dye your hair regularly!

#hope this helps <3 i am very much looking forward to the growing-out phases of this current buzzcut cycle i already miss my pigtails lowkey #but i do still love my short hair and i think everyone who wants short hair should go for it!! its so fun and freeing #asks

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chronically-ghosted · 5 months

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✨ happy new year! ✨

it's not yet 2024 where i am but it is where my love @ravensmadreads is, so happy new year already enjoying january 1st!

i usually overthink around my birthday as i march towards death but you lovely people have really made me think about 2023 as it comes to a close. i feel weird talking about myself (unless im drunk and we haven't started drinking yet so hold onto your butts for that possibility), so i'm just going to say this:

You all changed my life.

there, that's it. if you read this and you think it doesn't mean you, yes it does. not a day goes by where this place, this community does not bring me joy and warmth. i hope you get that job you wanted, or you get that fur baby adoption you've been hoping for, or you get accepted to that school you wanted to, or you graduate with all the honors, or you create the thing you've always wanted to, or you get the baby you've been hoping for, or the person who makes you heart flip says i love you. i'm nervous about next year because it truly feels like a year where anything can happen 🤍

now to the fandom stuff:

i've never done a fic rec list because inevitably, i'm a fucking moron and i leave someone out. i know it hurts when i'm left out of a fic rec list so i never want to do that to anyone here. what follows is a list of fics that spoke specifically to me. the old saying goes is that you don't write fanfic for yourself, you write it for the five freaks on discord that can't write coherent sentences after you publish -- and it's true. fanfic isn't about numbers -- i would much rather write for my five freaks on my discord (where my work has deep, emotional impact for them) than try to write for a large crowd that i will never ever manage to please all at once.

my wish for you in 2024 you all find your freaks. and i hope i'm one of them.

side note: there are a couple fics not on the list because i wanted to highlight fics that i didn't see much on other end of the year rec lists. but @iamskyereads 's Compulsion should be read in graduate programs and @whatsnewalycat already knows i'm going to name my first born child after her for her Psychomanteum. yall rock my goddamn world.

so without further adieu . . . these are the fics i read this year that tickled me pink.

God is a Woman by @wheresarizona the way arizona writes max is entirely unique. i love her descriptions of how cold he is and how he doesn't breathe. i read this and had to rethink everything i ever wrote for max

the impaler by @kiwisbell the dracula x johnathan x mina vibes in this are spectacular. this is a pairing i never thought i'd see much less enjoy so thoroughly. why is older tim being seduced by a younger max so hot??

night one by @haylzcyon this is one of the first fics i read by hayley and she pretty much set the standard for all marcus pike fics moving forward. his endless patience, his flirty attitude, how he see things the reader won't admit, and then the sleeping bag -- god i'd read a thousand more fics about this dymanic

blood & tinsel by @morallyinept so if i tried to list all of my favorite jett fics, we'd be here all night. but this one stands out to me because it's so well built. the description of the vampire "trance" or "glamor" or "compulsion" without using any of those words is INCREDIBLE. plus max is face-meltingly hot in this.

the world turned on its side by @idolatrybarbie this was a surprise that came outta nowhere, but it hit me like a fucking train. bea weaves a story that sticks with you and creates a frankie that makes my entire soul sing.

heat by @wordywarriorwrites okay, listen. the beauty of fanfic is that you can have insane, animalistic smut AND literary level writing. this fic is both. i have yet to come across another frankie abo fic that makes the dynamic more than a reason for the blorbos to fuck like animals. it's so well done, there's so much love here.

in fiction @sin-djarin yall know dieter is my boy so i am VERY particular about how he is written in fic. everyone's interpretation is valid, but for dieter fics to resonate with me, there has to be this special blend of humor, kindness, dorkiness, and a sexiness you didn't expect. this fic is all of that and more.

reminiscence by @projectionistwrites this was one of the first joel fics i read and there's something about it that just . . . feels right, feels natural to Joel. there's a raw honesty to both joel and the reader that just sunk into my chest. the back and forth over the drink, the SMUT, everything is just this beautiful snapshot of two lonely people in the apocalypse.

oct' 19 x ghosts by @trulybetty another author that if i tried to choose a favorite, i simply couldn't. betty created a lovely, lovely world with this one (and the rest of the prompts for this one and her december prompts). i love fics that add a new layer to dieter and this one opened him up in a way that made him glow!

renegade by @eupheme my personal favorite brand of joel is one that comes alive between reader's thighs. more boulder than human until you bring something to the surface. and this totally captures that. im a sucker for a good qz fuck-that-verges-on-love and i adore everything about it.

Dominica by @ohforficsake if you ever need proof that notes do not reflect the quality of a fic, look no further. the language, the mastery of tension, and beauty of these descriptions are one two punches that knock me on the ass. genuinely one of my favorite frankie fics of all time.

wanna bet? by @write-and-buried i debated putting this or her celestial navigation fic on this list, but this one just tickles me. i love it when authors throw in a confident, sex-obsessed dieter now and again and this makes me howl. and the DEBAUCHERY of the statue oh my god!

give it to me @sp00kymulderr okay now to be fair, this review is entirely biased. i genuinely love gideon and all that they bring to this fandom. plus, they let me scream about dieter and then sends me dieter pictures that make me scream even louder. this fic is SO important to me. dieter here is everything i need and want: hesitant, anxious, but so madly in love. if i could wake up in one single fic every day, it'd be this one.

stepwise by @the-scandalorian i joined this fandom through din and this has been, and always will be, one of my top favorites. the evolution of din from being touch averse to LUSTING after it, it kills me. it's a oneshot but so much is accomplished in such a short time. the writing here is simply superb.

salvatore by @devilmademewriteit i came for the premise, stayed for the smut, and continued for the banter. i go back to this one all the time for inspiration with my own writing and then i get sucked in and read the whole thing through -- twice. javi drives me absolutely wild in this.

a whole new can of worms by @hier--soir i accidentally read this out of order initially, but this was just reason for me to reread it from start to finish. fwb!joel can be really hit or miss for me, and primarily because this fic sets the standard. this feels like a real joel, a joel that has lost and found loved ones all through out his life and now in jackson, he can finally relearn what it means to be a lover. so good, so fun with the banter -- and the friggin' greenhouse scene -- woof!

telltale heart @astroboots i am a SUCKER for 'frankie fixes his life' fics and this is one of the best. there are consequences for his choices in colombia, one that almost has him lose his family, and the woman he loves. this a real, genuine struggle for two people to overcome a seemingly impossible challenge in their marriage. you know the phrase, love conquers all? yeah this is that fic.

brand you in the way it counts by @charnelhouse charnel was one of the first authors i read for the pedroverse -- and i mean i READ her. i read every single one of her fics at least twice and this one always sends me over the edge. it's such an inspiration to my own writing and i keep going back to her whole body of work to be reminded i can always improve my own writing

west by @radiowallet when people want to know why fanfic matters, i want to show them this fic. it is achingly beautiful and written with a loving and gentle hand. joel is a messy, broken man but still capable, still good, still wanting to find love in this and i adore everything about this. Oneshots can be more devastating than multichapters because they end and this is one of them that drags me back to it constantly.

And to that weird little dude out of Chile who has no idea how much light he brings to the world…

Much love, Taylor 🤍

#the very last #taylor rambles #of 2023 #yall lucked out

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go-rocksquadsfan · 2 months

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Top 10 greek myths common interpretations that goes from slightly annoying me to make me want to unleash my inner Spartan warrior combined with Achilles' rage. Most of this list will be overall flanderization critic (and uh if this somehow offends any actual believer. Don't think it will but just in case tell me and I'll apologize)

1. Congratulations, you missed the point : Demeter being a bad parent. Been said a thousand times before, you know the drill. Listen I get wanting to make Hades and Persephone an actual loving couple, truly, but this is the prime example of making a story more misogynistic than it originally was. Also incredibly overdone.

1.5 Related to 1 but just the sentence "Hades and Persephone have one of the healthiest relationship in mythology" get out. Get out. (Shoutout to the other Olympian/Underworld gods couple Pasithea and Hypnos)

2. The wedding of Aphrodite and Hephaestus. So let me be clear. A woman is forced into a loveless marriage with a guy that sees her as a trophy. She still has sex with the guy she ACTUALLY loves (and that she was with before the wedding btw) but when he humiliates them in front of half Olympus people's reaction is "Omg poor Hephaestus he didn't deserve that he's a good guy" I'm going to strangle someone (also did y'all forget about what happens to Harmonia and her children ? The man was bitter. I don't like it much either but come on) . Also ironic considering Aglaia is right there but good luck seeing a mention of her lfmaooo. (We're a Aphrodite/Ares supporter in this house !) But NOOOOO we have to focus on the MAN's feelings AND villainize a woman (because since she "cheated" that's all she amounts to). I surely don't see Zeus and Hera get the same treatment !

3. The Iliad pack : making tue characters one dimensional : HELEN, Menelaus, Agamemnon, Hector, Achilles etc

4. ARES. My dude. Do I even have to say anything ? His characterisation is fascinating, even though some of it probably got lost and some was added to slander him. There's as much complexity to him as any other god (his relationship with goddesses/women, as well as the "Feasted by women" epithet even though women got the worst of it in war ?). The myth where he kills his daughter' rapist (a son of Poseidon) goes to trial in front of the other gods for it and get ACQUITTED ? The double standard between him and the other gods is insane.

5. APHRODITE. Again. On one hand you have the vapid woman obsessed with her looks, and on the other her being associated with the sentence "Make love not war" like... lmao. It's more complex than that. You're free to see her more inclined or repulsed towards it but making her completely dissociated with it is... exactly what they did in the Iliad... because they felt the need to because one war goddess is enough I guess. God forbid Aphrodite Areia goes on killing spree family bonding day with her man and Phobos and Deimos

6. Dionysus and Ariadne. Because I need the reasoning about why you would choose the version where he orders Theseus to leave her on the island other than wanting to make Theseus look good (and screwing a woman over). Which lots of people assume this version was made by the Athenians for that purpose 😭. But seriously why ruin one of the most beautiful relationships of the greek pantheon for a child kidnapper ??? (justice for Helen)

7. Congratulations, you missed the point : Eros and Psyche. She's supposed to be UNATTAINABLE. Something about changing that part of the story puts me off (maybe I'll try to explain it another time). Also depriving Psyche of her agency again god forbid a woman is the protagonist 😭 (I've seen it twice. There are probably more)

8.1. No, Artemis isn't a men hater (Unrelated but I realized she's the og lesbian hunter)

8.2. Now I have never seen Apollo hate with my own eyes but... apparently it's out there

9. Hera. Someone save her. She's the embodiment of the "You couldn't even handle her" memes

10. Now this is more on the "slight tick" side of the scale because the fanarts etc are gorgeous but. Achilles wasn't blonde. And even if he was... him and Patroclus are supposed to look alike. I'm aware the Hades/TSOA designs had an influence on this and I don't really mind it but if you want accuracy... yeah.

#Max's rants #Other than my mutuals I kinda don't want to have people see this actually I'm scared #But anyway let me know what you think #I could go on about Ares actually #Mind you this is the one (male) god who's only crime is murder and HE'S THE BAD ONE ???? Him and Demeter were too advanced for our times fr

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ryverbind · 3 months

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Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Consonance of a Tragic Villain [20]

I swallow down the panic that sears the inside of my body, flames edging closer to the corner that once protected me-- or so I thought.

But I'm none the wiser. Just when I thought I was free of today's bullshit, more slapped itself onto my figurative plate. But I can handle this, definitely. I'm a strong, independent woman and my borderline insane, naive cousin is not going to ruin everything for me.

The only person allowed to tear me down is myself.

I take a breath-- a deep, shuddering breath as an ache builds in my chest for the umpteenth time today. I'm going to be okay. And besides, me and the man before me are close enough. He'll do what I say, no questions asked. Especially if I stress how important this is to me.

I nudge the door of my apartment shut, finally completely separating myself and my cousin from The Faces. I'm alone to speak my mind in the comfort of a familiar presence without worrying about the group of people who don't know that I'm hiding huge, relationship-altering secrets from them.

Seeing my cousin again after a couple years is refreshing. It's a good distraction from all the perturbance that ails me on this hellish day.

He looks so familiar and so different all at the same time. After ditching his parents just last year, it seems my dear cousin has been working on fixing himself up. He's wearing a navy blue NYU sweater, white collar peeking out of the top. Dark khaki pants to match the whole prospective college jock thing he has going on. His dark eyes seem a bit brighter, the mocha color lightened to a sunkissed gold that reflects the excitement in his wide smile. His once horribly dyed, mustard-colored hair is now a dirty blonde that suits him terrifically. I'm happy to see that he's taking care of himself. Working and going to a top-notch college has to be hard on him, but it looks like he's prevailing. I'm incredibly proud of him.

And dammit, he's grown since I last saw him too. Maybe Larry's height, actually. I have to tilt my head back to look up at him.

"Am I getting a hug after three years or fuckin' what?" He squeaks, eye twitching lightly to exemplify his impatience.

I narrow my eyes at him. Is he for real? "First, you address me as bitch. Then you vaguely threaten me. Don't I get a 'hi' after two years?" I counteract his reasoning with some of my own.

He pinches his lips together and puts his hands on his hips, switching his weight to his left foot. "C'mon. Every time I greet you, it's with 'bitch."

I chew on the inside of my cheek, gaze trailing over him again. He's not wrong. Even on phone calls, the first word out of his mouth is 'bitch.' "Fair enough," I settle on. "You get a hug after I tell you this, okay?" I tilt my head, showing that I mean business. That I'm serious. Because if he doesn't get this, everything I've built up could fall apart before I'm ready for it to.

His brows furrow in wariness and concern. "Okay..." he murmurs, voice trailing off as he waits for me to continue.

"You absolutely, under any circumstances, must not call me by my name. I am Vi to you from here on out. Once you enter this apartment, you call me nothing else but Vi." Monotonous, serious, and straight to the point is exactly how I portray these words. I watch as my cousin nods subtly the entire time I speak, his expression adopting a look that shows his sincerity as he listens.

"Got it. No questions about the sudden name change. You're Vi," he gives me a strong nod before shutting his eyes and grinning brightly.

"Good," I sigh. I shake my head to rid myself of the agonizing fear that has gripped me like a boa constrictor for a large part of the day. "Thanks, Trav. It really means the world."

Travis snorts, standing to an upright position. "Don't mention it. You've done a lot for me, bending to your will is the least I could do."

With a simple shrug in my direction, I take that as my cue to twist the doorknob, opening it so that no one is separated any longer.

But then Travis does his Travis thing and comes barreling toward me, his arms latching around my waist and smacking the both of us into the door. The hunk of wood flies open with our weight, slamming into the wall and damn, this time I don't think I'll get away with no damage.

I hiss, giving in and just allowing Travis to wrap me up in one of his big, aggressive bear hugs that he always greets me with without fail. I pat his back with a little smile as he flings me around like a doll, the bastard.

My eyes glance over to The Faces behind Travis. They are all wide eyed and silent. Every single one of them.

Heat envelops me. Travis lived in Nockfell for a while too. I'm sure they all know each other. Ash, at least, knows that Travis and I are related. I've told her about him many times. Maybe she just... didn't know I was referring to the Travis Phelps who used to live in Nockfell.

Travis finally sets me on my feet, a big, infectious grin on his face as he instinctively walks over to my kitchen. I hope he doesn't say anything bad... he clearly has not seen the rest of the people populating my small household yet.

"So what's with the mask? You into some kinky business?" Travis asks as I follow him into the kitchen, keen on watching where he travels to.

I sigh. "Trav, can we not? Come on, give me your bags." It's a wonder how he managed to keep hold of them while body slamming me through the door.

"What?" He scoffs, a little grin taking over his face. "I haven't seen you in years because you're a fucking recluse. I need to catch up on your life and if part of your life is being some kind of BDSM mistress, then I'd like to know."

I swallow thickly. I can't believe my friends have to watch this. I turn to look at Travis who's watching me over his shoulder. "Yea?" I ask humorlessly. "And what about you? It's been years and you still always have some kind of wound." It's true. His bottom lip is busted. "What the hell happened to you?"

He shrugs, narrowing his eyes at me in a playful way. "I've been boxing the last couple months. Really helps with the anger issues."

My lips part and I stare at him like he's stupid. It's like he's addicted to pain at this point. "Well," I decide to say. "I'll be cheering for you when you join WWE I guess."

"You better," Travis chirps, dropping to his haunches and grazing through my refrigerator like he owns the place. Which, he's family. He knows he's welcome to do or take whatever. Dad and I have never minded, especially given his upbringing. "You can root for me on the sidelines. I'll just be fucking hot buff guys behind the scenes. It's a win-win."

A song suddenly comes on, one by Bullet For My Valentine. It's a heavy hitter and Travis immediately flinches at the instrumentals. I guess someone managed to figure out how to turn on the speakers my dad spent a fortune on.

"Still listening to your nasty metal music, I see," he murmurs, grabbing a container of sliced strawberries. He pulls the top off and picks up a fruit, throwing it into his mouth before his eyes meet mine. "You still making it?"

I raise an eyebrow. "No," I tell him. "Ever since dad and I moved out here, I haven't had the space or the time to do so." And not being able to play my drums hurts, even the mention of it is painful.

I guess Travis can see the change in what little of my expression he can see with the mask, that or he already knows well enough. He frowns a little, wincing. "Sorry," he says gently. "I know you liked making music. Sucks that you can't now."

I offer him a little smile. Travis had his asshole phase years ago, but he's been so kind ever since he grew up. "Thanks," I respond, chewing on my bottom lip. "It's fine. I'll figure something out."

Travis winks at me then pushes himself into a standing position. He walks out of the kitchen and past me, heading toward The Faces who are sitting in my living room. Right in front of me.

"So do you still have that hot neighbor?" My cousin asks, stopping in front of me. He pulls a strawberry out of the container and holds it up to my face, raising his eyebrows.

"Why don't you go knock on his door and find out?" I murmur, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch my... dear cousin. He always hits me with a million and one questions but he must be majorly jet-lagged to still miss the four extra heads in the room.

"Mmm, maybe later," he murmurs, shoving a strawberry into my partially opened mouth. My brows furrow in shock, but I close my lips over the fruit anyway. "Remember my high school crush though? He's, like, super famous now."

I chew on the strawberry, nearly drowning over the sweet juice that coats my tongue. I push through the ocean in my mouth and answer him though, interested by this news. "Yea," I manage, swallowing a bit of the strawberry. "The one you bullied like the cunt you are? He's famous? Good for him."

Travis scoffs and rolls his eyes dramatically. "Take the 'c' word back, hoe." He sends me a mean glare then shuts his eyes. "But yes, he does deserve it. You know," one of his dark eyes pops open, narrowed in my direction. "I made out with him."

My stomach tightens in excitement. Travis told me he'd kissed some guy years ago and he was really happy about it, but I didn't know it was the crush.

"Really?" I push out, finally finishing off the fruit he'd forced upon me. "When was this?"

"Oh," Trav waves me off. "A while back. In high school. It's actually all thanks to you-- you told me if I didn't shape up, apologize to him, and confess that I would be alone forever and you would banish me from the family. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Of course I did what you said. It was so worth it." He gives me a roguish, exhilarated grin that says the night he shared with his crush will go down in his mental history book and stay there forever. "I owe you a cake, lovely," he continues

I smile, my cheeks warming at the prospect. I'm happy Travis had his time with his crush.

"We haven't talked in God knows how long though," Travis sighs, looking off behind me like he's reminiscing. "Which it's better that way." He chews the inside of his cheek contemplatively, thick brows bunching together softly. "I still think about Bluey every once in a while, though..."

Now it's my turn to narrow my eyes at him as Bluey claws its way through my mind. "I'm sorry," I choke out, "Bluey, like the dog show, or Bluey as in blue, like a Smurf?"

Travis turns his head to me quickly and I know I hit the mark. His eyes are wide as he says, "Perfect analogy. Blue as in a Smurf." A little impressed smile works its way onto his lips. "He may as well have been a Smurf actually. Short as hell, blue hair."

This time, my stomach tightens in a different way as my brain slaps me in the face. Trying to open my damn eyes because... I only know a select few people with blue hair. I only know one famous person who has blue hair.

My eyes snap over to Sal. And, my God, he looks like he's about to explode. His neck is painted a deep scarlet and he's nervously playing with his fingers. Azure eyes saucer-sized.

I sit on that one. I sit and really contemplate it while Travis goes on and on about, fuck, about how he tasted. And how his skin felt. And his voice. He goes on like the man he's talking about isn't in the room-- because he doesn't know he's in the room. He keeps talking like he doesn't know I nearly fucked the guy who gave him his first make out sesh.

"I'm going to throw up," I murmur to myself, but Travis catches the words and frowns at me.

"Girl, I have told you worse. You've heard my NSFW stories and this makes you fold? Very ableist of you." Travis tuts at me, disappointed after probably saying something about Sal that I don't know about, especially because the ableism accusation came out of nowhere.

"No," my voice quivers as I force the words out. I've committed the ultimate betrayal. I feel sick. It doesn't matter if I never knew that Sal and Travis had a moment, I nearly had sex with him. This is.... this is bad. Really bad.

"Are you okay?" Travis asks, suddenly concerned. He walks over, rubs my arm comfortingly but it doesn't make me feel any better.

I don't have to answer him because, thankfully, Larry has broken the barrier between us all and said what I had been thinking.

"Sal!?" He coughs out, the deep baritone of his voice making Travis flinch. "What the fuck! You swapped spit with the enemy!?"

I watch Travis spin on his heels and then he jumps like a startled cat would. I can practically see all of his body hairs stand on end.

Travis turns back to me, his face the epitome of shock and betrayal. "You bitch!" He squeaks out, glancing back at Sally. "You betrayer!"

How come I never made the connection before? I had this bullshit coming. This sketchy plan was bound to blow up in my face at some point. I knew Sal was a bad idea.

"I didn't know!" I splutter out, eyes flitting back and forth between my cousin and the bluenette. Sal looks alert— eyes wide and never blinking. He's struck silent, that sad excuse of an asshole.

"You weren't supposed to invite my first kiss over," Travis yells, voice cracking while gesturing his hand to Sally behind him. "I only told you about it— how did you find him?"

My stomach drops out of my ass. Everyone's silent as confirmation of what we all feared rings throughout my living room. The only person who has any kind of reaction is Sal who slaps his hands onto his prosthetic, leaning his head onto the back of the sofa.

It's quiet for a little while longer, bile searing the back of my throat. Travis still has wide eyes, his gaze directed at Sal and an embarrassed blush flushing his cheeks.

I watch as Ash blinks, her expression beginning to morph into something both predatory and unreadable. This entire day got so much worse, right when I thought it was over too.

Have I ever said that Todd is quite literally the best at reading rooms, and the best at being the best? I owe him a lot of credit because he saves mine and everyone else's asses, even if only for a moment, by saying, "Dark Autumn Complex released a new song a couple hours ago."

My head tilts, my focus suddenly zeroed in on my friend who watches us blankly, no emotion or real reaction to the silent standoff in my living room.

But no one else cares. Larry, Ash, and Sal are having a staring contest with Travis who look beyond overwhelmed.

Todd sighs. "Travis and Sal are old news. It's not something any of you should be surprised about. Plus they clearly have been over for ages. Take the information and cry about it in bed tonight if it ails you so." I stand corrected when Travis drops that load of reality on us. If anything, he seems a little agitated. How can he be so... nonchalant with the prospect of Travis and Sal floating around us like a melody? I'm, personally, petrified to the core.

Travis shrugs nervously beside me. "He's not wrong," he murmurs bashfully, sniffing to hide his awkwardness. "I made out with him once and that was it. Gay awakening?"

Larry snorts, his eyes squeezed shut and tears building at the corners. I can't quite tell if he's laughing or wailing.

I crack a little smile. Larry's comedic relief, whether his tears are positive or negative, and Todd's direct approach make the situation not as serious as it originally seemed. Sal is still sitting pin straight on my couch like a scarecrow hung up in a corn field. He couldn't be more displaced with this turn of events. I bet he's cursing me and my family in his head right now. If anyone dies, I know it's due to his vexation, at least.

Todd is nice enough to follow up on his first statement by snatching my TV remote from under Larry's ass and loading up Youtube. He doesn't even have to search, the new-- holy shit-- the new music video is the first in my recommended section.

DAC has never made a music video. Ever. And it's a new song in general, I'm about to combust. I never thought I'd see the day. And why the hell didn't I get a notification?

I briefly travel through my memories, picking out the moment I watched North playing his guitar on stage. His eyes, shadowed by his mask but looking straight at me. His hand shaking mine, cold leather beneath my skin.

It takes every fiber of my being to not smile over the thought of him. He was just so nice, and hot, and talented... I can't help myself.

Travis and I jump forward whenever Todd clicks on the video, flocking in front of my television to watch what's about to unfold. Travis has heard more than enough about this band to know that I love them, so his accompaniment is merely moral support. He knows damn well I'm about to fall apart so he'll be there to pick up my pieces.

"They're metal, right?" Trav tuts, tone dispassionate due to lowered expectations. He's such a metal hater. "Hot members though..." he tacks on, trailing off as the song opens up.

"They're mine," I proclaim, drowning in adoration for DAC. They're literally just standing with their instruments right now for the intro, no words no music. Just a blank slate. But I'm enraptured, eyes glued to the screen as I thrum with energy.

"Our castle was built in Spring; We longed for books and bricks. To fantasies we did cling, So our castle was made of sticks.

Of worn and cracked logs-- Papier-mâché, our key, Of fragile and brittle walls Our castle came to be."

I shiver over the string of lyrics invading and possessing my soul. Oh, how I obsess over North's voice and the sweet symphony of Dark Autumn Complex's instruments.

"You can't lay claim," Travis scoffs, elbow knocking into mine when North stops singing to play his guitar. "Suppose they're gay, huh? I get to fuck them and you don't." He pridefully tilts his head up, small grin playing on his lips as he continues, gaze drifting toward me. "And you better believe I wouldn't spare you a damn thought during doggy."

I damn near break my neck to glare over at my cousin. I can hear Ash wheezing behind me and Larry's suspiciously quiet-- my only guess is that he's laughing so hard that not even a single noise can be heard. Todd simply sighs.

"I guess it's a good thing the lead singer probably thinks I'm hot, then," I boldly state, even though I know it's a really long shot. I'm putting words into poor North's mouth and the fucker doesn't even speak. But, hey, all is fair in sex and war. Travis can suck it so long as 'it' is not North.

"You yearned for an out of reach jewel; Opulence, luxury, and solace. All this greed made you cruel, Made you break your promise.

You readied your match and flame-- Cursed our castle and thought it trash. Without warning the fire came And reduced our memories to ash.

My romance of choice is Death Where you don't reside. By silence I abide, And keep you-- I tried. Alone at last, I take my final breath."

The living room is dead silent as North sings again, his gloved hand wrapped around the microphone in front of him while East and South dominate the sound, taking over in place of the guitar for a moment.

Listening to cathartic music, so much emotion filling my entire being, is better than therapy ever proved to be. Good sound and touching lyrics are all I will ever need to heal. To feel less alone.

My thoughts turn to Sal who's watching the video, seemingly disinterested. He looks so calm regardless of Travis and my presence. I want to slap guilt into him. I want to make him hurt the way I did the night he hurt me.

"Delusions were a precious fairytale; Tender was the slow fester. Expectations in minute detail, But failure greeted the jester.

You placed me in the guillotine-- Bound, blind, and confined. My blood's your nicotine, So pull the lever, love, be kind.

I laid myself out for you to walk on So the castle sticks couldn't pierce your skin. I was the throne you sat upon From whence we became potent sin."

Larry interrupts my internal solace when the lyrics stop again. It seems to be a longer song-- I guess DAC took a chapter out of Avenged Sevenfold's book.

"I'm not the one who said it, but," Larry's mischievous chuckle sets off the danger alarms in my mind. Emo Buff Daddy likes to slap me with things I refuse to comprehend. "North totally has some kind of Joe Goldberg infatuation with you."

My mouth goes dry, my heart stammering with flutters and quick beats, like little fairies hammering away at my organ in an attempt to keep it together. He's joking. He has to be. But my tingling fingertips and empty lungs say otherwise-- they want this to be true. But then there's Sal, and somehow I'm concerned over the validity of Larry's statement. Why is Sal even a factor here? I'll never know.

I smile at Trav-- a smile that I really don't feel, but one that comes easy. "See?" I taunt. Travis scrunches up his nose in faux jealousy. "Thanks for the backup, Lar," I tell my friend with a little wink his way. I'm just going to assume he's trying to help me out with the spaced out, friendly family altercation happening between me and Travis.

"My romance of choice is Death Where you don't reside. By silence I abide, And keep you-- I tried. My essence in Macbeth.

Eat my thoughts; Drink my soul. Exchange silence that haunts For the the peace you stole.

I am a fiend, a monster, a disgrace-- All the things you crave. I am a lover, a believer, a warm embrace; All of which led me to my grave."

"No problem, Vi," Larry chirps during another break in the song. I blink, heart falling a bit. With the deep lyrics resonating within me like this, the knowledge that Larry was just trying to help me out is disappointing. As much as I want North's affections, it wouldn't work out. Wouldn't be right. I have to accept that-- it's not like I'll ever get a chance to talk to the guy again anyway.

"Just spreading the truth," Larry says in a sing-song voice. Just like that, my soul is alight yet again. Is he still fucking with me or is this for real? My only notice is when Ash smacks Larry in the back of the head, her lips pinched together and eyes piercing into his soul.

What in the hell is with those two?

"I rot in this cage of reminiscence, Watch our connection burn. Sob in the name of innocence And for what was lost I still yearn.

This was never self-love-- Hypocrisy residing in my longing. Of my naivety thereof, To my own soul I'm desperately calling.

My romance of choice is Death-- Where I don't exist, So my thoughts can't persist. Extinguish what demolition kissed; I sink into abysmal depths."

I don't know who wrote this song, but they're hurt as hell. And I relate. I feel like this song popped up at the perfect time. Dark Autumn Complex understands me like no other and I resonate so deeply that I feel like I've known each member all my life. There's this ridiculous, false connection between me and them that I wouldn't admit to a single person.

My lips part as I watch the video zoom in on all the members, slowly centering on North who harshly whispers,

"It was never an alias, Nothing spontaneous. This is the half of me I have always wanted to be."

He repeats the words over and over again, voice slowly fading out until the screen goes black. I feel like I'm in a trance, like North just hypnotized me and I willingly went with the entire bit.

Travis clicks his tongue disappointedly beside me, stealing my attention away from the song that I'm going to play on repeat later tonight.

"Damn you for always pulling the pretty people," he grumbles, turning to face me. "I take back your cake. You have the hot male lead, you owe me food now."

"I'm so glad you've accepted reality," I chirp, patting Travis on his broad shoulder.

This entire spiel is something I have to ignore. North isn't crushing on me, he isn't interested. He never will be. And I can live with that! I've shaken his hand and gotten to see him play live. Totally don't need his tongue in my mouth or anything.

I walk toward my kitchen pulling my phone out and opening up Twitter. I'll do exactly what I've done every single time DAC's put out new music.

"Everyone okay with eggs and bacon?" I murmur distractedly, uploading the link to the new song, Consonance of a Tragic Villain. I tweet the link then turn my head over my shoulder to look at my friends. Sal's head is trained down to his phone since the TV has been turned off, replaced with Breaking Benjamin, courtesy of Ash. Is he embarrassed or something? He can't even hang out with the people around him. Even Todd is standing up to go and converse with Travis.

"Just hurry up and cook, woman!" Larry exclaims, grinning at me with that handsome face of his. And the tattoos littering his toned arms. And the... yellow stain... on the front of his shirt. But it's fine, even the most beautiful people can't be perfect.

I narrow my eyes at him as I turn into my kitchen, feeling my phone vibrate in my hand. "Watch yourself, Lartholomew," I bite out, flicking off the metalhead. Larry has to be short for Lartholomew.

"Lartholomew?" He stumbles over the word. "Stupidest shit I've ever heard. You could've done so much better than Sal's middle name."

I was about to check my notifications, but my head snaps up before I can see. I nearly choke on air as my gaze falls onto Larry. "Sal's middle name is Lartholomew?" I ask, disbelief and amusement bubbling up in my body. I have to agree with Larry, that's fucking hilarious.

"No, no, it's Bartholomew!" Larry cackles, pointing a finger at me. "Isn't that hilarious?"

Sal sighs exasperatedly, throwing his head back. "I'm going to castrate you Larry," He grumbles, frustrated and on his last mental leg as he lunges toward Larry, throwing an arm out to slap. With Ash between them though, the altercation is broken up very quickly.

"Fuck. Off." Sal bites out at his step-brother who really gets a kick out of the scenario.

I turn my attention away from the brothers, taking out ingredients and utensils that I need to cook with. While the bacon is sizzling on the stove, I finally check on the notification on my phone.

It's from Twitter.

dacnorthxx: 🖤

My eyes go wide. The comment is under my tweet of their new song and I'm really going to fall apart right here. Does this mean he remembers me? Or is this mere coincidence? My thoughts are running rampant, tummy bubbling with excitement. I can't breathe, all the oxygen is trapped in my throat under lock and key.

I comment back, my thumbs moving a mile a minute as I gulp. My entire body is a carnival of pins and needles. I feel faint.

violetviolence: @ dacnorthxx OMG?????

Someone get me a diaper because I think I'm going to pee myself.

dacnorthxx: @ violetviolence OMG!!! my idol

Is this real life? Can't be. Nope. No way. I'm about to throw up and the bacon is burning-- oh shit, the bacon is burning.

I throw my phone onto the kitchen counter and quickly pull the food off the stove, setting each strip of bacon onto a separate plate so they don't burn even more.

"Food's done," I say as loud as I possibly can considering the heavy amount of excited stress I'm undergoing. My voice comes out trembling, so I cough to cover it up as best as I can.

Dark Autumn Complex is quickly becoming my favorite band, North most prevalent out of all the members. I swear I'm not delusional-- well, maybe.

I type out something in response to his comment.

violetviolence: @ dacnorthxx STOP UR JOKING

Then I tuck my phone into my pocket. I'm being crazy. He's just being kind and he might like my comment after this but that's it-- that's as far as the exchange will go. I'm not stupid, I'm not delusional, I'm not insane.

Each of my friends, including Travis, files into my kitchen, grabs a plate of food, and then walks back into my living room like a train of preschoolers. It's a little humorous until the straggler comes in, it's not hard to tell who that is at this point anymore either.

Sal grabs a plate of food, comes to a stop behind me. The counter that peers into my living room separates us from the rest of our friends and having this kind of partial privacy with him smoothes out the wrinkles in my brain. This is horrifying when throwing in the context of our last meeting into the situation.

My heart skips a beat upon noticing his presence beside me. I glance up at him, noting the way he peers down at me with lidded eyes. Speculating, curious, leering. There's something hidden there, something he's locked away in a little mental box.

But I'm mid-chew and staring over at him like a deer caught in headlights, so I couldn't care less about whatever the hell he's hiding.

He watches me a moment longer, then drops his plate onto the counter beside mine. My eye twitches in pure amazement and agitation as he moves to stand beside me, leaning his elbows on the surface of the counter. As soon as he's settled though, he turns his head forward to watch the rest of The Faces and Travis who are all, surprisingly, catching up rather than being awkward.

The unspoken question of why he's standing beside me never gets spoken, the unknown simply percolates in the energy we somehow seem to share. I can't explain how I simultaneously wake up and lose brain cells when he's near, but it's definitely something I can't deny.

I watch him, wait. He wouldn't stand here to bask in my presence, I'm not that naive. That still doesn't answer why he's here though.

That dagger tattoo of his is on display right before me, just inches away from my eyes. He's that close-- so close that I can pick out every point of the ink on his skin. The soft waves in his layered, cerulean hair. The piercings in his ears. The sharpness of his jawline, edges of scars peeking past his expressionless prosthetic. And I can smell him. Something good, something masculine, something so him.

"Your bacon's shit," he rasps in that infuriatingly pretty voice of his. He never looks at me.

My wary expression turns into a glare. See? What did I just say?

But before I can bitch him out, something cool gently brushes along the top of my bare thigh.

I flinch in surprise, gasping as I glance down to see what the hell touched me because that's not normal. I've never bumped into anything while standing here, and this is my prime eating spot.

And as I frantically turn my attention to assess my mental commotion, I notice Sal's hand near me, his index finger just a centimeter away from my skin. I swallow against the realization-- it was him. He touched me.

I look up at him, eyes narrowed in question. What is he getting at? What is this game he's playing? I don't want him to string me along just so he can say he doesn't want me anymore when he inevitably leaves LA again. When he leaves me again.

He tilts his head inconspicuously as if to ask if he can continue, and I stare at him. I don't move, hell, I don't even breathe. I don't know what I should do. Because I do want him to touch me, but I know I shouldn't let him. Both for myself, but also because of him and Travis. I really shouldn't.

And Sal looks like he's about to apologize, this regretful look enveloping his eyes-- a look that makes my chest ache because there's such strong emotion, so much guilt. Guilt that he doesn't need to feel regarding this because... because he always double checks. He always asks for consent. That's something I've never had to worry about with him.

And maybe it's just the hurt in his eyes, something I haven't seen before and something I don't want to see again, but I nod at him. I nod to tell him he's okay. He can touch me.

He blinks, the emotion that was building ever so slowly slipping away from his gaze in a flash. I feel like what I saw was a hoax, a hallucination. It leaves his cerulean gaze that quickly.

And I can't watch myself fall back into this again. I know I've made a mistake, but it's one that I can't find myself regretting. Whether I like it or not, I have this insatiable attachment to-- obsession with-- Sal.

I turn away from his eyes that bore into mine, gaze at my living room again and bite down on a piece of bacon. Wait for the inevitable, which happens the minute my eyes aren't on him anymore.

Cold fingers crawl across the back of my thigh that's closest to Sal. The feeling of his fingertips dancing across such sensitive skin, slow and purposeful. Meaningful in that frustrating way of his. Just fingertips up until he's gotten across enough skin to grip my flesh in his hand and squeeze.

We're in a bad position. We probably look so suspicious right now-- if anyone were to glance over here and see us, they would be wondering what the hell was going on. Because the two of us? Willingly standing beside each other and not bickering? Preposterous.

I don't look at him. He doesn't look at me. Just runs his hand over and squeezes the back of my thigh to his heart's content. But I see him out of the corner of my eye, my heart fluttering all the while as goosebumps rise all over my body. Just barely seeing the way his chest rises and falls calmly, his hair brushed aside to show off his tattooed neck, the feeling of his skin on mine.

I lick my dry lips, start drumming my fingers against the counter beside my plate because I can't take this.

Maybe Sal saw my nerves getting to me, whether he was able to hear my pounding heart, see the way I nearly started hyperventilating, or just from my hands unable to stay still. But his touch is gone instantly, very suddenly.

I swallow thickly, blinking at my friends. Larry... has Travis in a headlock. Things might be bad! But in the moment, that's not my concern. Sal's phantom touch still lingers on my skin, the delicate brush of his fingers along my thigh much like a whisper now, but still there. My brain is still living in the fresh memory of what happened thirty seconds ago.

He doesn't speak. Neither do I. There's nothing to say-- this was random, unprepared. So what the fuck has just transpired? Figment of my imagination? Is the psychotic breakdown happening? I've been awaiting its arrival.

I'm not quite sure what kind of reaction I'm having, especially when Sal slides his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling like nothing just happen. An unwanted lump forms in my throat, my palms sweat. I feel used. Again. And I knew I would feel like this because Sal is Sal-- he's not kind, he isn't gentle. He just gets what he wants. I'm at fault too because I've fed into that behavior, reinforced it by giving him what he wants.

"Sal!--" Ash bellows. I snap my head up, eyes wide. Why is there yelling? "I swear, guys, he's a literary genius." Ash's eyes are alight with mirth and pride. She trusts Sal to back up her statement, but I don't think he's going to. Sal Fisher is anything but a literary genius-- he is not a book boy. A misogynistic, old ass man wrote his patriarchal Smurf ass. God, I can't stand him. But, here I am, standing...

"Recite Poe!" Ash yells again, gesturing to Sal with her hand like she's the Phantom of the Opera. That's quite an image.

Edgar Allan Poe is a recurring and foreboding theme in my chapter today. Literally, not breaking the fourth wall.

I side-eye Sal who has no reaction. He doesn't even look up to acknowledge Ash, simply cocks his head to the side with his eyes still glued to the phone, typing something out.

And then his voice. His stupid, stupid voice. Monotonous, uncaring. But the feeling-- the emotion-- embedded in his words makes me want to topple over. And he didn't even write them.

"For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darling--my darling--my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea-- In her tomb by the sounding sea."

That's what he says. Completely recites the last stanza of Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe. The same poem that the poet used to capture the hearts of so many women at his public readings.

He's not Poe though. Sal is not Poe. And the raspy, unfeeling tone of his eclectic voice will not capture me. Not when he's been two migraines and a stroke. Never.

Is it wrong of me to appreciate the tender way he pronounced 'Annabel Lee?' His voice danced around her name as if it were a waltz, something precious and rich with his affection. And his voice grew with passion when mentioning the moon and stars, dying off into something gentle and warm once he repeated 'my darling.'

Envious isn't the word. Ravenous, on the other hand, is. In every word, in every recollection, in every universe.

I turn my head to him, chest hot with esurient rage because how dare he be so...

Sal turns his head to me, emptiness reflected in his cobalt gaze. A darkness so ever-present, one that never disappears. And I forget all the strife in my mind.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, but I ignore it, holding eye contact with Sal while Ash's excited screams of praise fade into the background.

Before angry thoughts can filter into my head again, Sal turns away like he was never even looking at me in the first place. He grabs his plate, hair swaying slightly with his every movement, and he walks away. Meets with everyone gathered in my living room.

I chew the inside of my cheek, watching Sal come to a stop beside Travis and I loathe the way some kind of abhorrent, negative, spiteful feeling rips me in two. Those two men want nothing to do with each other and the last thing I need to be worried about is Sal to begin with. He's bad, awful, terrible.

I'm going to have to socialize soon before Travis starts batting me about being a recluse, but I need just a moment to push aside whatever ancient Transylvanian spell Sal casted over me with his recitation first. So, to distract myself, I pick up my phone to see what caused the buzz.

My jaw instinctively clenches shut, an uncomfortable chill crawling up my spine when seeing the discord notification followed by Sal's username.

I click on it.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm sorry. SALLYFʌCɜ:and you'll never hear it from me again, but you deserve it this time. the way i broke things off was insensitive, it was sudden with no warning. and i promised i'd fuck you. and i want to. if you don't want that anymore, perfectly understandable. figured i'd give you the offer instead of silently regretting what i did.

I blink at my phone screen, nauseating butterflies kicking and screaming inside my belly. Begging me and peer-pressuring me, telling me I better not skip out on this.

I won't skip out on it, but this is the last time. From what I've gathered in the short time I've known Sal is that he's careless and unkind. He'll attack you given whatever means necessary. And when he goes overboard, he apologizes with the assumption that everything will go back to normal and all is forgiven. I mean, kudos to him for even apologizing to begin with, but repetition makes all the sorry's meaningless.

I shut my eyes and let my head droop a bit. I shouldn't. I really, really shouldn't.

I swallow down the bile working its way up my throat and start typing.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: had i not been here today, would you have ever apologized and extended the offer?

My gaze travels upward until I'm looking at everyone again. Sal isn't involved in the conversation. In fact, he's on his phone. And I suddenly feel like I'm going to collapse again.

Remember the first time I met him? When I assumed he would be the type to avoid confrontation? Fuck me for being wrong because he's the one who brings confrontation.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

SALLYFʌCɜ: no. SALLYFʌCɜ: i'm taking these circumstances as a sign. i've been thinking about it

I run my palm over my forehead. He's being honest with me, I respect that. Maybe this is a sign then, like he said. He's been bugging me for weeks, picking at me and being aggressive. Maybe that was a result of how torn up he was over internal guilt? I'm not sure but I'm not one to turn away from something this obvious sitting right in front of me.

VIOLETVIOLENCE:okay. when are you leaving?

The reply is instant.

SALLYFʌCɜ:6am tmr. that problem's solved though. ash is going to invite you to come with us SALLYFʌCɜ:i would be pissed and angsty like usual at the idea, but if you accompany us, that just opens up more time and opportunities.

To go with them? Ash? Where the hell are we going?

My eyebrows scrunch together in both confusion and intrigue as I start typing back.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: how do you know ash is even going to invite me to go with you guys?

SALLYFʌCɜ:it's ash. use your fucking head.

It takes everything in me to bite down the snort that so desperately wants to be released. He's right. And my ignorance aggravated him. This is everything I've grown used to, everything I want.

VIOLETVIOLENCE: typical of you to assume. suppose she doesn't invite me, then we both lose out, prick.

I hear a soft, quiet, and distinctly Sal-sounding chuckle from a few feet in front of me. Damn him and damn the way a smile starts growing on my lips at the audacity, the familiarity, the chaos of it all.

SALLYFʌCɜ: i wouldn't have made the promise if i didn't intend on keeping it. watch what you say and give ash five minutes to remember that you're in the room. actually, give her brain a boost. SALLYFʌCɜ: come here.

No questions asked. I shut my phone off and slip it into my pocket, looking up to assess my surroundings.

Everyone is in a huddle. Wherever I surface, someone will move over to make room for me. Given that Sal and I were so close a couple minutes ago, I should probably stand away from him now. I'll just scoot in on the other side of Larry. That feels safe, he's standing beside Sal so it's a simple excuse too.

I walk over to everyone, my feet feel heavy like they're covered in 15 snuggly kittens each. I'm weighed down, reluctantly making my way over to them. My cheeks feel hot. I'm second guessing everything.

I don't like hiding from my friends, it makes me nervous and I feel terribly guilty. Like, if Sal and I are fucking around, they should know. But something about their group, about The Faces, says they do not date within the circle.

Date? What the hell am I talking about? I meant fuck.

I come to a stop right behind Sal and instinctually pinch my lips together. This was not the plan-- I meant to curve to someone else. But I got distracted by my own anxiety, which, this wouldn't be the first time. I just wish it wouldn't furl my plans like this.

Upon assessing the small group gathered in my living room though, I can tell that Sal would be the only one to allow me access into the circle. Ash is dramatically talking with Todd who seems zoned in and solely focused on the conversation, shockingly. Todd's not one to be very engaged in conversation often, so my guess is that they're talking about business or science. Given Ash's infatuation for the arts though, I'd bank on business as the topic.

On the other end of the small circle, Travis is grinning awkwardly at Larry who's deep into an explanation about Dragon Ball Z lore. Throwing up his hands, nodding his head vigorously, and leaning into Travis's personal space. They squashed beef rather quickly.

And Sal, he's just present. Not involved, simply there like he was when he walked over here.

He's also the only person expecting me.

He turns his head over his shoulder, glancing down at me with his emotionless but bright eyes. I gulp down the nervousness crawling inside me like poisoned bugs; it's hard though. Every time we make eye contact today, I feel stuck. It's almost unbearable. Did I miss him or something? Or-- oh, yuck. Do I have a crush on him?

I hate to even think it, but I find him attractive. That's the roots to the plant. Just because there's a sprout doesn't mean it has to grow into anything-- and I surely won't grow with this ass. Nope, major pass.

Meh, it's not a crush. He's just pretty and mean. I'm flustered is all. Who doesn't like a handsome man with an attitude?

Sal takes a step toward Larry, making a tiny little spot of space for me beside him. The move is so inconspicuous that it's impressive. It makes me wonder how many things he's tried to get away with in his lifetime, to be able to know what, how, and when to move so others don't notice his unfolding plans.

I start moving forward, eyes still on him. And his eyes are on mine too when Larry's elbow whacks him in the back of the head.

There's a hiss, a resounding pained yell, and a clatter. I simply blink, watching Sal grab onto the back of his head in pain and Larry with tears in his eyes, snuggling his elbow close to his chest.

There's something wrong. Something wrong with Sal's messier-than-it-was-moments-ago hair and the expression of unadulterated fear that strikes Larry's face. He looks as though he's stabbed Sal, betrayed his step brother in the worst way possible.

And Sal. Sal.

His eyebrows nearly match his hair. And they're furrowed, signaling the contempt in his soul. He tilts his head up, eyes glued to the floor before they flit up to me. I watch him with wide eyes, unable to fight off the shock plaguing me.

Half of Sal's face is emaciated, the other is almost completely untouched. It's a wonder to look at-- out of everything, I didn't expect to ever see his face. I didn't expect it to look like this either. His left cheek is sunken in, a scar running up the middle, the shape and placement reminding me of a Glasgow smile. His cheek bone is ragged, uneven with sharper points and parts that are sunken in, much like his jaw. And part of his nose is missing too, making the half that's still there more prominent with the way the scar healed. Other little scars litter the wounded side of his face-- plenty through his eyebrows, over his lips.

And the scars on his lips stretch up to the middle of his cheek, his chin, all in various place. A lightening strike permanently etched onto his face. A beautiful work of art that he lives with every single day.

The other half of his face, the one that seems nearly untouched, gives me a glimpse of what he'd look like had he never been scarred. Little, light freckles are splattered across his nose and the apple of his cheek. His lips are full, pink, soft-looking aside from the cracks here and there-- undoubtedly a result of constant biting. Sharp jawline, like I'd assumed.

He turns away from me, his expression slackened a bit. Then he starts yelling at Larry and I have to process the unfortunate truth that I couldn't look at him longer.

Maybe it's a crush now.

I take a breath as Ash suddenly flinches in my peripheral vision upon noticing Sal's bare face. In the meantime, I lean down and brush my fingers over his prosthetic that landed on the floor. It feels surreal to touch something that is so impactful in mine and Sal's life. I find myself hating it a bit because, as much as I loathe admitting it, Sal is pretty. I knew he would be. And the added confirmation sucks me into a dissociative state. I don't feel real, this is just some immaculately designed psychological horror and I'm the spectator, watching as everything falls apart. Forgetting that I'm a main character, falling apart with everyone else.

I swallow the internal panic and revelations and close my fingers over his prosthetic, lifting it into my subtly shaking hands. I need a nap and an edible or something.

I stare down at it for a moment, hesitating to look up when the yelling pauses for a moment.

When I do lift my gaze, Sal has turned back to me, his lips pressed into a thin line and brows still furrowed. And this time, it's not impenetrable and never-ending anger in his sapphire eyes. It's fear. Disgust. Regret. A lot of negativity and I think it's directed toward himself.

I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, chewing on it incessantly in an attempt to stomp down the immense number of emotions suddenly awakened within me. I'm feeling way too much. Feeling blissful over his beauty, but broken over his reaction to himself. I can't imagine how long he's gone feeling so disgusted about himself-- I can't say anything to make him feel better because it wouldn't matter. My view of him doesn't come close to comparing to his view of himself. I can see it in his eyes.

My hands move toward him, silently offering the prosthetic back. Sal's gaze drops down, seeing his lifeline in my hands and his nostrils flare like he's on his last leg before he absolutely breaks. I know that feeling.

His hand clasps onto the mask, not gently but not aggressively. Just grabs it like I'm a completely normal person and not someone he both despises and craves.

His fingertips brush over the back of my hand, and he's suddenly ripping the prosthetic away like I've murdered his pet in cold blood.

I watch in dissociative shock as he turns back to Larry, prosthetic still in his hand.

"Sal, man, I'm really sorry," Larry rasps out, that terror and worry still on his face. He's not scared of Sal, just scared for him. "I didn't mean to."

Sal doesn't utter a word. He lifts the prosthetic and smacks Larry upside the head with it. A resounding, hollow thunk echoes through the room as Larry yelps in pain. My eyes widen a little more and Travis breaks out into cackling laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth to unsuccessfully hide his reaction.

And Sal doesn't react to the abuse of his brother, just walks over to my couch and situates his prosthetic onto his face again.

I can't get the image of him out of my head. His doe eyes and exotic face tattooed into my temporal lobe for life. My eyes follow him, watch as he opens up his phone again to escape reality. Clearly, the device is a crutch for him. It's a getaway from present events.

A nudge on my waist makes me slowly peel my gaze away from Sal, who I seem to be viewing in a new light. I've gone through fresh hell today, this was the bittersweet cherry on top.

I switch my focus to Ash, who's now standing beside me and, I would guess, the person who nudged me. She gives me a hesitant, rueful smile.

"We're going back to Nockfell tomorrow," she says softly, hand lifting to graze over my cheek affectionately. Her crimson nails clash with the ethereal color of her foresty eyes, but it works. They clash wonderfully. "Do you want to come with us? Reminisce a bit?"

"Why did you guys come, by the way?" I ask in a small voice, eyes flitting between hers curiously. I'm still in a state of shock too, so her comfort is appreciated.

Ash's features change, an excited grin slowly building on her lips. She's holding back something big. "We found an apartment a few buildings down. I've been researching for a while, trying to find a place near you ever since we built up the money to move."

My expression falls. They're moving? Here?

My very essence is filled with immense joy, contentment, and happiness. I don't know how to correctly portray how wonderful it feels to know that Ash is going to be near me every single day again. I can walk to her now, I don't have to fly. I can hug her, I don't have to watch her through a phone screen.

I blink at Ash as she swipes her thumb under my eye, grabbing onto my cheeks and pulling me foreward until our foreheads touch. It takes me a moment to realize that where her finger rubbed over my skin left a wet residue.

And so begins the break down.

I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to gather myself and to stop the tears before I start full on sobbing in my best friend's arms.

"So will you come? To Nockfell?" She asks softly, tilting her head to kiss the tip of my mask's nose. "If I tell you we need help packing, will that be an an acceptable excuse?"

I sniffle, unable to stop myself as I nod my head vigorously. I can't find the right words or think the right thoughts to use my voice to answer her. I can't even quite understand my own emotions.

Ash nods against me, an elated smile building on her lips.

"And so the prodigal daughter returns to her hometown."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N::::: NORTH FANS RAISE YOUR FUCKIN HANDSSSSSS!!!!!!

okay soooo yayyyy!! after twenty chapters we finally have half a face reveal *cue really shitty white girl dancing* my babies in the comments have been asking for a y/n face reveal but, hehe, you know i'm a little shit >.<

anywayyssss, sorry this chap is a little late! i left a comment to someone saying i would post yesterday LMAO but it's here now and i hope you guys like it <3 please, feel free to leave some constructive criticism because i would like to publish a book someday and can't do that if i don't make progress and improve!!!

task for everyone: TELL ME SOMETHING I CAN IMPROVE IN MY WRITING!! and be nice please or you'll break my heart :3

as always, sending you guys all my love! have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night and remember to eat well, drink water, and go out in the sun for a bit! FUCK VITAMIN D DEFECENCIES!!

#sal fisher #sally face #larry johnson #ash campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #enemies to lovers #sally face fandom #sally face fanfiction #fanfic

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whoficky · 11 days

Text

Until Morning

Rating: T

Pairing: 10th Doctor X Rose Tyler

Notes: I'm a sucker for reunion fics and I've been playing around with this idea for years now. After much procrastination, I figured the best way to get me to finish writing the thing was to jump in and start posting. Hope you like it!

Work Summary: As a weary Doctor, Martha Jones and Jack Harkness prepare to take on the Master, they find their hideout isn't as secure as they thought.

In a burst of blue light, a dimension hopping Rose Tyler finally finds the Doctor, but time is still not on their side.

What if you only had one night to spend with the love of your life?

Chapter 1

The rumbling in Jack’s stomach interrupted his attempt at hacking into the Master’s digital database. He glanced up to see if Martha had heard, and sure enough, she was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“Bit hungry?” she asked from where she was perched on one of the chairs they’d scavenged.

“More than a little,” Jack acknowledged as he leaned back for a stretch. “God, I’d kill for something hot and fried right now.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Martha sighed, “I’m so hungry I think I’d even eat Mum’s cooking. And she’s never met a vegetable she hasn’t boiled into mush.” Jack chuckled along with her, but neither of them really had their hearts in it.

It had been a long, rough day for both of them.

Was it really only this morning that Jack had finally caught up with the Doctor again? He tried to calculate the hours, but it was as much of a hopeless task as it had always been when time travel was involved. He hadn’t slept or eaten more than half a protein pack since he’d hitched a ride to the end of the universe, and being immortal unfortunately didn’t prevent him from hunger pangs or the affects of sleep deprivation. If he listened to his body, he figured it had been about a day, Earth time. Two at the most.

The fact that he was already loosing track of his usual twenty-four-hour cycle wasn’t surprising. That was typical when adventuring with the Doctor. That man sucked you right into a different sort of reality. Running for their lives and helping the last sentient life in the universe seek Utopia was par for the course. Despite a complicated history the Doctor and Jack had needed to work out, he’d been having a hell of a good time. At first.

But then the bumbling professor Yana had opened up an old pocket watch and everything had gone to hell. In some ways it was a miracle - another survivor of the Time War. But out of all the billions of refugees who could have survived, it’d had to be the Master - an utterly insane Time Lord who’d stollen the TARDIS, taken over the government, and captured Martha’s family. The poor woman was beside herself waiting to learn what had become of them. Jack knew it had killed her to run away when her parents were being hauled into that van. He could relate. His own sort of family, his Torchwood team, were MIA and his guts clenched when he thought of what the Master had done to them. Even the Doctor could barely hide how all this was pushing him towards that edge he always danced around. Jack had seen him go over it only once before, when they’d thought the Anne Droid had vaporized Rose Tyler. He never wanted to see his old friend go there again. The problem for all of them was that the Master had shown himself to be very good at hitting them where it hurt.

So, here they were - holed up in this abandoned warehouse. Hunted, anxious, and left with limited time and resources. The Master had had eighteen months to put together a government takeover and whatever other schemes the madman had planned. Jack doubted the three of them even had days to come up with a way to stop him. It was very likely that humanity was on the brink of peril.

Jack was so distracted by his thoughts that he almost flinched when Martha spoke again.

“Have you found anything?” she asked, getting up to look over his shoulder at the computer screen.

“Almost there, I think,” he reported as he pushed his unease aside to resume working on Martha’s laptop. “Tosh is usually the one to do this kind of thing, but I’m not too shabby at it.”

“Tosh?” Martha asked confused.

“Oh, she’s part of my team at Torchwood. Great with computers. Gets along better with tech than people most of the time…And, hang on…BINGO! I’m in!” Jack leant closer to the screen as he searched for various key words in the database. “Oh yeah!” he said with relief, “Torchwood Four was sent off to the Himalayas. Well that explains why they wouldn’t pick up the phone. But hey, I’ll take it! Better sent on some wild goose chase then mixed up in all this at ground zero.” The knots in his stomach loosened a fraction as he plowed into a new search.

“Aaaaand…” he said to stall as he clicked through a few folders, “Here we are, Martha! Looks like Mom, Dad, and Sister have all been taken into custody for ‘questioning.’ They aren’t hurt though. Just in custody. See there’s some video footage. And…” he scrolled down to make sure, “No mention of Leo,” he winked at her.

Martha seemed to take heart from that, “Guess he’s not as daft as I thought!” she laughed. “My god, I’m talking about my brother on the run. How did this happen? And where is the Doctor? He said he’d be right back.”

“Still setting up a security perimeter, I guess. Though he’s certainly taking his time about it.” Jack had the suspicion the “security perimeter” was really more an excuse for the Doctor to get some air and collect his thoughts. God forbid the Time Lord showed an emotion in front of the humans, Jack thought with a smirk.

“Maybe he can get some takeout while he’s at it. I’m starving,” Martha plopped down on top of a large crate next to the fire they’d started in an old barrel.

“So we’re back to food again?” Jack asked, shooting Martha a playful look to try and ease the lines of tension on her face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Martha chuckled, “I’m caught between fantasizing about it and trying to think of anything else. Same goes for sleep.”

“Yeah I -”

A flash of blue light illuminated the warehouse and the sharp sound of static filled the air. Jack’s body reacted without thought, his training taking over as he leapt to his feet and moved into position to protect Martha.

“Stay back!” he hissed at her as he stepped forward and pulled the gun from the holster at his hip. The Doctor had disarmed it hours ago, but the intruder emerging from the crackling light wouldn’t know that. It could still be a handy negotiating tool.

“Hands up!” Jack barked as the light faded to reveal a humanoid who was still facing away from them. His brain, now cleared from the fog of exhaustion, took a mere fraction of a second to catalogue the threat. The figure was small, dressed in contemporary clothes and had shoulder length bleach blonde hair. He though he saw a flash of metal, maybe a small weapon strapped to her belt, but her hands were empty. The figure had stumbled when she first appeared, but now was standing completely straight with her hands in the air. There was something familiar about her posture though…

Then she spoke. “Jack?”

He nearly dropped the gun when he heard that voice.

But…it couldn’t be. It was just traveling with Doctor again - she’d been on his mind was all. He was tired and hungry and his mind was playing tricks on him.

“Who’s asking!” it was more a command for identification than a question.

“Oh my god! Jack!” the figure turned around and this time Jack did drop the gun in favor of the blue and yellow blur that ran into his arms.

“Rosie?” he said amazed as his arms automatically folded around her. His brain that had worked so quickly moments earlier slowed down as he tried to process this. It was Rose. Rose Tyler. Rose Tyler had appeared out of nowhere in a supposedly secure building and was now in his arms hugging him hard enough that he’d be worrying about breathing if he was still mortal. This wasn’t supposed to be possible. The Doctor had said…ah, but then this wouldn’t be the first time the Time Lord had underestimated her.

“Oh god Jack, I’ve missed you! But how are you here? I thought you had di-,” seeming to catch herself, Rose stepped back out of his embrace, folded her arms, and looked him over.

“When is it for you?” she asked cautiously. Looks like she’d kept her time traveling skills sharp, he thought grinning.

“Long after the Game Station,” he replied. Just from a quick once over, Jack could tell that this Rose was a little older and a lot harder then when he’d seen her last, so it must have already happened for her too. Still, a little caution wouldn’t hurt. “And you?”

Rose stared at him in astonishment shaking her head slightly, “But Jack,” she said, “How are you here? On Earth, right? That’s where we are? Oh Jack, you died! The Daleks…”

“Yeah well, didn’t stick,” he shrugged, “Takes more than a fleet of pepper pots to kill me. Although, I mostly have you to thank for that, sweetheart,” he winked. “And as for why I’m here, well that’s a long story. But the short of it is, I used my vortex manipulator to go back in time and then the damn thing burned out. Been looking for you and the Doc ever since.”

Rose’s face fell, “So we left you? On that ship, all alone? Jack, I’m so sorry!”

“Hey,” he said resting a hand on her shoulder, “You didn’t know.” And it was true. She hadn’t known. Jack wondered what story the Doctor had told her to make her think he’d died. He wondered how much she knew about her part in it all. “And hey,” he assured her, “I’ve done alright for myself, don’t worry.”

She nodded and offered him a small smile, “Good Jack, that’s good.”

She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for something. “The Doctor…we got separated,” she admitted, eyes drifting away from his. “I have no idea where he is, Jack. I’ve been looking for him too. For so long…” she looked so tired and Jack wondered what she’d been through in that parallel universe.

“Yeah, well I may be able to help you with that.” Her eyes snapped back to his as he continued, “Me and the lovely Miss Martha Jones here,” he gestured to Martha who was still standing a few steps behind him, “are hiding out in this stinking old warehouse because we are currently number two and three of Britain’s most wanted.”

“Two and three…” Rose said slowly, working it out, “and…Number One?”

“He’ll be back any minute,” Jack said smiling, overjoyed to be the person who got to give her the news that her search was over. It looked like it had been a rough one for her.

“Jack,” she said half laughing and shaking her head in astonishment before leaping back into his arms. He swung her around a few times until he faced Martha who had remained very still and quiet the last couple of minutes.

“While we’re waiting on his Time Lordiness…Rose Tyler, meet Martha Jones. Martha Jones, Rose Tyler.”

Rose turned to face Martha. Jack held his breath, wondering how this would play out. There was a tense moment as both women sized each other up before Martha stepped forward, offering her hand, “Good to meet you,” she said perhaps a touch too formally, “The Doctor talks about you all the time.”

“He…he does?” Rose took Martha’s hand, but glanced back at Jack as if for confirmation, “He mentioned me?”

“Er…yeah,” Martha said stiffly, “Won’t shut up about you sometimes.”

“I…I didn’t think he’d…,” Rose began before breaking out in a wide grin as she gripped Martha’s hand in a firm shake, “Good to meet you too, Martha Jones! I bet you’ve had a time of it, keeping those two blokes in line. How long have you all been traveling together?”

“Er…” Jack’s heart really did go out to Martha as she struggled to keep her composure. “Well, first it was just me and the Doctor - that was for, oh I don’t know, bout a year?”

“It’s hard to keep track,” Rose sympathized.

“Yeah, it is,” Martha agreed, “And, well, I just met Jack actually…”

Before she could finish, a rain-slicked Doctor bounded through the doors already jabbering, “Alright, that should do it. This is now a surveillance free zone! We’ll be able to keep here safely until…”

Jack could tell the exact moment the Doctor noticed Rose. If he lived to be five-billion years old, he was sure he’d never forget the utterly gobsmacked look on the Time Lord’s face.

#ficandchips #Rose Tyler X The Doctor #Rose Tyler #Tenth Doctor #fanfic #dimension hopping Rose Tyler #Until Morning #Jack Harkness #Martha Jones #10th Doctor #Doctor Who #Happy to get back to writing!

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