#bro the moment you start placing those two on the same level you give away that you only care about fandom drama | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

homiesondaweb · 7 months

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Anybody order some Jefferson and Aaron angst😁😁😁 CUS I AM DELIVERING IT HOT AND FRESH 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

Also give me Aaron and Jefferson background or give me death!

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Aaron sat on his motorcycle in the private alley behind his and Jefferson’s new studio apartment since they've moved operations from Harlem to Brooklyn. Snowflakes whisk around in the swift chilly breeze, its just start to stick to the ground as sleet. Aaron's Prowler gear is hidden under his bomber jacket as he checked his messages, refreshing over and over again but the top one still remained that same.

JD: 210, grabbin beer rn. Game should be on channel 12.

Code for: Urgent, meet me at 9pm at the base.

Aaron glances at the glaring 8:57 at the top of his blackberry. Sighing as he fully parks and cloaks his bike before using the fire escape to make his way up. There he finds his older brother pacing nervously, four black and milds burned to the plastic nub, he anxiously shakes a blue can of spary-paint and some jagged design that Aaron can only describe as panic personified is on the far wall that conceals some gear.

"JD! What the hell man? Had me buggin', Cottonmouth give you some BS or something?" Aaron asks, coming over and clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. Jefferson blows his current cloud of tobacco high out of Aaron's face before squashing the tip out and adding some flawless circles to the piece.

"I…Ri…we gotta get outta this shit bro." Jefferson bumbles for a moment and Aaron frowns a look of confusion.

"What? Fuck is you talking bout ? What about Rio?" Aaron asks and Jefferson groans and flops to the floor, letting the can roll away. He gives no care to his white hoodie as he sags against the wall of wet paint. Aaron feels creeped out by how young and dumb his brother looks at the moment. Like he's 15 and not 25. He doesn't like it at all.

Aaron squats down next to him and tries to pat out the glassy look in Jeff's eyes. His brother starts to breathe heavily, panic bubbling.

"Rio is pregnant! Like with my baby and I…."

"Damn." Aaron slides to fully sit and Jeff slumps forward and rests his head in his hands, forcing his own head between his knees and thring to steady his breathing. One of those recenter-ing tactics that Rio showed him probably.

"Jeff, if y'all need money fo-"

"She's pregnant wit my kid and Cottonmouth just had us stalk out and scare that one lady who was pregnant and what if that was Rio and-and that fucked her up. We've busted houses and collected in places with kids before what-wh- STOP!" Aaron shakes Jefferson's shoulder hard and the broader of the two of them sits up ramroad straight.

"Calm down nigga, you doin' that spiraling shit that Rio was talking about JD!" Aaron tells him loudly. He gets up and digs around in one of the drawers at the kitchen counter before pulling out a blunt then grabbing a forty of Olde English. He dumps the self medication in his brother's lap and Jeff just huffs and looks at it.

"So, Rio is pregnant. Is she too far out or something for the clinic? You know all we gotta do is call Bunky and she'd find a hanger lady for her."

"Fuck no! I'd never endanger Rio like that, fuck you nigga!" Jefferson curses as he pops the bottle and swings back the first quarter of it. Aaron holds his hands up to disengage him.

"Don't shoot the messenger for the truth bru. With the way you've been sloppy with Cottonmouth's and that new dude King's menace missions lately. I'd hate to have a vulnerability like that. We're getting to a new level in the game bro, that ain't just jacking bank trucks and doing snow drops anymore. A baby will fuck it up. And Rio will not be for this shit. Hell, she might even snitch you out when she finds out that your money from "Security" work ain't so clean."

"Rio would never snitch on me." Jeff glares and Aaron laugh around a puff of the blunt then passes it over.

"Yo girl not mine. All my pussy know what kinda life we live. Live the life we live. Work how we work. You the one who went over to the Heights and got a PR princess that's smarter than you in two languages. Rio's gonna learn the truth if y'all go through with a baby." Aaron tells him and Jeff continues a hard stare to the floor.

"... and just what should I tell her, Master Splinter, since you're so damn wise." Jefferson chuckles darkly with another deep drink. Aaron rolls his eyes.

"She's 23 and just graduated nursing school. She shouldn't fuck her life up with a baby and a bum nigga."

"I'm notta fucking bum!"

"Pretend Jefferson! Either give her the cash to get rid of it and y'all continue on. Or drive her off. She doesn't know the shit we do and we both know what it's like to be raised in the game. Hell, Cottonmouth knowing we brothers is already a slippery slope. You havin' too many folks you care about, known about? Will end up with them dead, we know this. It's why sissy stays down in Jacksonville and mind her own business. Prowler and Lurk have nothing to do with Lady Blue. Shit like that, keeps all of us alive." Aaron reminds him. Jeff growls out in frustration and drives a fist into the plaster of the wall. The blue target he painted earlier crushed within it.

"Fuck!"

"Jeff, what th-"

"What if I don't wanna do this no more."

Both brothers go quiet at the slurred confession. Jefferson gets up and finishes the bottle, Aaron sighs as Jeff rolls the wide bottle between his hands.

"JD le-"

"I don't wanna do this no more. It isn't helping anyone. It's not good for us. I-I keep seeing… keep seeing the eyes of those kids scared outta they minds because I have they daddy or mama's head bashed into the kitchen title. I'd never hurt a kid but… do they know that? What if, they saw me just on the street taking Rio out somewhere or just in the Bodega.."

"That's why we wear a mask, Jeff. Calm the fuck down."

Jeff let's the bottle roll to the floor. He goes to his closet and throws his black and red costume to the floor. The mask isn't much really. A dark red base with three horizontal black lines over his brows, nose, and mouth. Red circle lens adjusted to his prescription over the eyes.

This mask is the face of Lurk. Where Prowler dragged claws behind him to make up for his lean from. Lurk's knuckles were studded, they would beat and beat and beat fear into whoever was his assignment.

He hasn't killed anyone yet. Just destroyed lives. Scarred people. All for money.

Jeff didn't want Lurk's face over his anymore. Not when he saw the most beautiful thing in the world in the form of a gray blob on a sonogram.

"I feel like the baby is a boy, mi vida! I know we have to wait a few more months to know but…I just know!" Rio teases as Jeff snuggles her belly while they rest in her bedroom. Her belly barely has a pudge past her usual shape. She's only a month and half along in the pregnancy at this point.

A person that is half of him and half of the angel who landed in his life three years ago. Who already had a big head for 9 weeks and Jeff's heart in their hand.

"He's going to be a smart baby! I used to like reading, you know, if I had the time, then maybe. But lately, I can't seem to keep a book out of my hands, I crave them like Maduros! Isn't that funny Jeff?"

His son. Does Jeff really want to be part of a world that is already so cruel? A world made scary because of guys like him and Aaron? Is Jeff even a real man to have Rio bring his son into a life like that, just like his father had done for Jeff and his siblings.

"You're too pussy to wear this mask JD. Too weak to be Prowler. Look at your baby brother, Aaron does what needs to be done for real success. He's a real man, he can pick up the claws but you? A waste of muscle, you're gonna be a goonie all your life. At least your sister is a business woman. What the fuck are you?"

"She's 4 months along." Jeff whispers and Aaron shoots up at that.

"What! Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"You were on a long mission. I didn't want to mess you up when you were on such a touchy mission."

"Jefferson! Be fucking forreal bro!"

"I am! Gotdamit, I am! I'm….I'm done Aaron. Rio had an appointment today and I was staring at that grainy ass black and white picture and… my son, he's beautiful already. Not even here yet I… I can't have him in this life… Miles deserve better. I deserve better… even you and Brynn. Dad was so fucking wrong for putting us into this shit. We deserve better! We need to j-"

Jeff is cut off from his ramble by Aaron punching him in the face. Jeff quickly takes him down right back, the two physically fight. Knocking into the walls, into the coffee table then to the floor. Jefferson pins Aaron under him, one of his knees painfully drives one of Aaron's shoulders to the floor while Jeff struggles to peel Aaron hand from around his throat.

"Why you always gotta prove dad right! You're fuckin weak, you ain't no damn man. You ain't logical!"

"At least I ain't playing dress up in my daddy's damn clothes! I'm tired of this goon shit!" Jeff yells before wrenching Aaron's hand off and twisting it away. He jolts when Aaron cries out as a sickening pop echoes through the room. He scrambles back at that, hands shaking, whatever highs they had somehow chased crashed in an instant.

He just hurt his brother. His damn baby brother.

"Aaron… Ronnie baby… I-"

Aaron lets it go with a strong exhale. He breathes in again and holds his wince as Jefferson carefully brings him to a sit, then leans him against the wall. Its plaster crumbles even further around them, probably asbestos.

"Just shut up Jeff. Just shut the fuck up!" Aaron yells out as he tries to breath through the pain of a shoulder twisted out of socket. He breathed deep, real deep, pulling at the sense of numbness their father had taught him how to do on his first kill missin. To stop him from shaking with pity for a human being (sympathy, empathy, he didn't want to fucking do it but his dad had never shown so much pride). Pity halts a clean kill and a big payday.

Jeff takes Aaron's swift punch to the chest, right above his heart. It winds him up a little. He lets Aaron do it again.

And again.

And-

"Dad gave us this. We're legends to the crime world."

"We are their favorite goons and that's it."

"Fuck you, Jefferson. Put my shit back in place and get out then."

"..."

Jefferson does as such. With a swift and practiced tenderness he puts Aaron's shoulder back into place. Slips it into a brace and hands his baby brother painkillers and anti-inflammatories custom from Doc Ock. Aaron drinks it down with half of the last forty in the fridge.

As Aaron simmers on the couch, Jefferson rolls up Lurk's costume and studded knuckle dusters in a bulky bundle. He sets the keys to his motorcycle on the kitchen counter along with his business only burner phone. He gets to the door and looks back at Aaron who stares coldly ahead at the 10 o'clock Breaking News broadcast. Some big name witness that would have broken a cartel case has been found dead. Thoats gouged out, nearly decapitated with clawed slashes.

"Your cut is in the trunk." Aaron says, his voice all soft, deep, and robotic. Jeff closes the door, he numbly makes it down stairs. He floats as he gets into his Cadillac and drives across Brooklyn to Jamaica Bay.

He burns Lurk to ash, the mask and embers impression in the fire before he buries it in the sand. Jeff lumbers back to the car and opens the trunk. Sure enough, there in a black duffle bag is Jeff's cut of, 75,000$. A one-third of the mission price him and Aaron did a joint job on. That was always the deal with the Davis siblings. Everyone gets one-third. Even Brynn taps a PO box twice a month with profit from her blow and information business. They send her their one-third back to her laundered through jewelry.

Jefferson throws up behind the car. Flashes of blood, crushed in faces, broken limbs, slurred pleas through broken teeth, a screaming child crying for the parent Jeff was crushing in his hands, dance through his mind at each retch.

He leans against it after a few minutes of that then rests his forehead to the cold metal of his car. Praying it cures his fever of alcohol and emotions. He can't believe how warm and flushed he feels. The snowflakes melted instantly and join the sweat on his forehead and neck.

"¡Ay bendito! Jeff! You've got to learn how to regulate yourself better, papá!" Rio would chide him for being so worked up this late at night. Or this early in the morning. It was nearly 1 am.

He closes the trunk on the money. He knows he'll need it. He got an apartment to buy, a home to stock and a nursery to make now.

Aaron wakes up sore, and aching. The TV watching him and the world is white and bright through the window. The weather lady drones about last night's blizzard. He goes through the motions of resting up, thanking God Jeff pulled all that foolishness during his down period after the mission of the night before last. He pads into the bathroom and takes the hottest shower possible, careful to clean his face and hands of dried blood.

He cringes in the mirror but applies a bandage to the cut over his cheek and rubs cooling salave over the bruises. He pauses at the grainy black and white photo of something with a big ass head tucked in the corner of the bathroom mirror.

In Rio's loopy handwriting with a white maker she's made a text bubble in the empty space next to the baby's head.

"Hey Tio' Aaron :D! I'm Miles!"

Aaron huffs, lips twitching up before he washes his face and head back to the couch to have the rest of his beer for breakfast. As he dips his head back he ponders that grainy photo, ponders a childhood of being raised to follow their fathers footstep into the legacy of mercenary work. Jeff is too fucking soft, their father handed them the skills of success on a freaking platter and he's letting a Spanish Mamí and a baby stop that?

When nephew' gets here, I'm just gonna drop some stuff off to Jeff for congratulations and then I'm bouncing to Philly for a bit. Yeah, forget New York for a while. Forget Jefferson and what he swears I deserve.

#miles morales #1610 miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the verse #jeff morales #uncle aaron #aaron davis #miles morales angst #aaron davis headcanon #Aaron Davis angst #jefferson davis #Jefferson Davis angst #family angst

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gregbruchert · 8 months

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Breakfast sandwiches

Starting anew with my caloric responsibilities. Recent and ongoing stressors, weathering my resolve, have driven me to eat like a toddler at the Keebler tree. I'm trying to start the day with a solid foundation, food-wise: The breakfast sandwich. One egg fried in canola spray, two similarly fried slices of turkey bacon, a slice of Monterey pepper jack cheese, and half of an avocado mashed into the top half of a toasted multigrain sandwich thin bun. I downed that action with some caffeinated soda squirts a la my whitest personal appliance, the Sodastream. Let's just go ahead and log that into FatSecret to make things just a tad more pale around here. Not to mention, a third of my breakfast was avocado toast. Refill my mimosa at your next brunch, my fellow alabaster bros.

We are trying to sell our house. That means packing. That means painting. That means working with the wife to move forward on those things. We generally fail to see eye to eye on operations. I, being the one of the two of us with past managerial experience, seem to think I know better. She, being incredible at the same position at her respective places of employment, tends to end up being the only one that knows what is happening. I have plans, she has plans. The overlap is minimal. If you enjoy that 'blood in your stool/panic attack' type stress, be sure to add a deadline toward this endeavor that doesn't so much have a set date and time, but dictates an approach that requires everything be done as soon as possible. You both work full time, you say? You are currently raising a toddler, you say? You have multiple obligations beyond your baseline, you say? Social engagements, you say? Deaths in the family, you say? Just make sure to have all of your heart attacks on company time. Bigger payout for the bereaved.

To find a moment would be a luxury. So, my usual means of therapeutic writing can't seem to make an appointment with my self. I enjoy the pen and pad so I can sit with the thoughts a bit. This feels like a sprint. There are reasons. I am working right now. Listening to Shostakovich's 9th in E minor. My man. If you haven't ever, do. Cartoonish insanity with some beautiful resolutions within the margins. Allegorical to current events, I'd argue. I'm going to utilize the internet the way the lord, Hades, intended and seek knowledge on Dmitri... Ah, there are many a book on my man. We'll just drop a few of these into the 'want to read' column and revisit. Turns out he knew Stalin in some capacity. Will we have to compartmentalize the music from the man? Knowledge can be a real motherfucker. We shall see.

Don't tell the boss I'm unloading on an all but forgotten b-squad social media site where I have maybe 5 followers. Shout out to the Cinco Psychos. I felt it might be in my best interest to find a way to un-clench my jaw. I think the 'clenched' status is going on a month now. Rafiki voice: "It is time."

My aunt Cheryl died Tuesday night. It was reported to me on Wednesday morning. You know, just before work. A woman who had been in my life for all of my 45 years twirling about the sun. She's gone. Not to mention we lost her son, my cousin just earlier this year. She had grandkids. He had daughters. I barely had a moment to maneuver my cousin Chris's death before I heard the news Wednesday morning. Cheryl passed away from the same cancer that took my dad. The great K-Dubs. The last conversation that Cheryl and I had revolved around her concern for how I rough house with Violet. She wanted to make sure I take care of my daughter properly. I plan to honor those last requests.

So, what is the move? I've lost my map. Navigating these waters is futile. Fate is in Hades's hands now. I'll tell you what you cannot do. You are not allowed to cope with that level of bad news without a full day at a job you moderately tolerate. Go to work bitch. They'll give you a box of tissues. Wipe those tears away between emails. This is healthy and fine.

Let's follow up that work day with a visit to the dentist that has been years overdue. Get berated by the tech for not flossing, then run some errands with half your face numb and sliding off your skull. We need groceries. The baby needs milk. Kelly needs almond milk for smoothies. You need eggs for breakfast sandwiches.

To be honest, I used some of my free time to check in on mom. She lost her sister. I'm not alone in grief here. I had to make sure she was maintaining. She was. Probably better than I. Maybe she's doing worse behind closed doors. That being said, the takeaway for me was that this is something common enough in old age that you have developed processes in which to grieve. It made me feel like a novice, at best, in that regard. I'm sure I'll get the reps in. Mom has endured enough to solidify her routine.

That's probably the hardest part. I need time for me. I feel like I should be there for my mom, my brother, my immediate family, extended, etc. as well. My capacity to prioritize my responsibilities dwindles as ye scroll of tasks drops and rolls away from me as I read it. The budget will not allow for a life coach. Let's explore what the modest budget might offer as an equivalent. I bought a salmon/tuna poke bowl, extra sauce, extra spicy.

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rafescoke · 3 years

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Never sent a request idk if I do this right. Been to lazy and not good lately and honestly I just need a good fluff. The basic plot where he is in a bad mood like angry and then he turns to his lover etc etc. Do your thing I just need some comfort and love!

Cupcake ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe making cupcakes with a girl he likes won’t be a bad thing

Warnings: Slight angst on the earlier part, cursing, substance, extreme fluff, adorable Rafe Cameron

A/N: I hope you're doing good, sending all my love and hugs @ you <33 remember to rest!!! @asimpwriter

p.s; you know the drill - send any requests!

"Fuck off," Rafe sighed, shutting his eyes against the bright chandelier above the dinner table. Since when did it got so bright? The last time he checked, it was dimmed. "I swear Sarah, say one more word and I'll fucking kill you."

"Rafe," Ward sighed, placing his cutleries down onto the expensive wooden table. "It's family time. Excuse your sister."

"She's hanging around with those stupid pogues, dad!" he groaned, not wanting to believe that his dad was on her side. Not that he was ever on his, but he thought his father would have the same mindset as him towards this topic.

"Let. It. Go."

"They're my friends," she breathed, and Ward closed his eyes again, knowing the screaming that was about to occur. "I'm sorry you're stuck with Topper-"

"Didn't you cheat on him?" he laughed, and turned to look at his dad. He mouthed at him with an amused expression, "She cheated on him."

"I didn't, and we broke up 2 weeks ago. I'm sorry he couldn't move on from me," Sarah shrugged, and Rafe watched as she put aside her green beans and offered some of the mashed potatoes to Wheezie.

How could she act so normal about this?

"Oh, and-" Sarah turned to Ward, and Rafe waited impatiently for the lies that was about to slip from her mouth. "Do you know that he does drugs?"

"Sarah!" Rose yelled, furrowing her eyebrows as Rafe laughed out loud, clapping his hands loudly that the sound echoed throughout the huge house. "It's a family dinner!"

"I don't give a fuck about this family," Sarah said, removing the napkin from her lap and quickly standing up to get out of the house. Ward didn't say anything, neither did Rose, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh.

"This is getting out of hand," he started, clasping his hands. "Rafe, I'm no longer letting you take over my business."

Rafe stopped his movements, looking at his father with widened eyes. After all those time he spent at college, trying to make his father proud and to take over the business, only for this?

"Dad, you can't. She's lying, dad, I haven't been using drugs."

"I saw the stash, Rafe," he sighed, and Rafe thought about the space under his bed. He closed his eyes, muttering a ‘fuck’ when he finally remembered the empty space. He didn't think much about it earlier, thinking about how he must have used up all of the powder.

"Until you get your life back on track, or nothing at all."

"Dad-"

"Go find your sister, and bring her home."

"Dad, please-"

"Go find Sarah."

"Okay," he sighed, standing up immediately and letting the chair scraped the polished floor. Wheezie shifted uncomfortably at the sound, and Rafe had an urge to do it again, just for the sake of riling his father's anger.

He cursed silently, walking away towards the table and to the porch, all while thinking about the joy if he could destroy the Pogues' life for making his hard.

The drive from Figure 8 to The Cut took him 30 minutes at high speed and being fully caffeinated, and when he arrived at the Chateau, all riled up from the quarrel with his father that he had before, he didn't try to see if his sister was even in there before barging into the small home.

"Yo, what the fuck?"

"Where's Sarah?" he muttered, giving Kie his side glance and continued searching for her. "Where the fuck is she?"

"Yo, bro, this land is off to the kooks," JJ stepped in, eye to eye as he leveled up to Rafe's height. He was only an inch shorter, but the difference was apparent. He continued to place his hands against his chest, whispering slowly. "Especially to crackheads like you."

Rafe laughed, tilting his head to the back to release the tension building up in his body. He was so, so close to give the blonde boy the consequences of his words, but was halted when Sarah entered the room, hand in hand with John B.

"What are you doing here?" she groaned, walking forward and standing in front of him. "God, can't you leave me alone?"

"Oh, trust me, I rather do that more than anything especially-" his eyes trailed to John B, "When you're fucking with a trash."

"JJ-" Kie stepped up, pulling JJ's shirt to stop him from doing anything. She sighed, knowing that this was bound to happen anytime soon, and she had told John B about this before, but he didn't listen. Now it was like her job to protect her friends from Rafe.

"Leave," Sarah stated, her lips pulled into a tight grimace. "Leave before I'll tell dad about this."

"I'm just trying to protect you," he ran his fingers through his hair, making it more messier than ever. Why couldn't she get that? All he was doing - it was all to protect her, so that his father could see him for what he's worth.

"You know what?" he sighed, wrapping his face with his large hands and turning towards the exit. "You wanna be one of them? Go. Don't ever come back home. You're just another trash, anyways."

He wasn't sure if he meant them, or if it came from the heat of the moment. All he could think about was to run away, to hide and to never come out and face his father or the judgement put by everyone else. He felt an uneasy feeling rising in the pit of her stomach, but he was too proud to say sorry.

“That was useless," he thought, leaning over his motorcycle and blinking his eyes against the lights by the side of the road. He couldn't go back now, not when his father had just ordered him to bring Sarah home and he had failed to do so, and he couldn't go to Barry's; his dad could find him there if he search for him the next day.

He groaned, feeling the cold air nipping at his skin until the final thought occurred to him. He laughed then, not sure as to why he hadn't been thinking of that sooner, and soon he was in front of the mini apartment.

He rapped on the door and waited patiently, his heartbeat quickening. He looked at his watch, checking if his arrival was too late. He groaned, noticing the time, but it would be embarrassing for him to turn now.

(Y/N) was trying to figure out what colour should she put into the frosting mixture, her hands on her waist when she heard the knock.

Her head instinctively looked at the clock, frowning when she read the time. It was not that late, only around 10 p.m., but she was not ready for any guests or her friends to come over.

Had she been too loud that the cranky neighbor next door who sleeps early everyday had come to tell her off?

She sighed, lowering the music coming from the radio before making her way to the door. She was in nothing but her ribbed top and a pair of sweatpants, and her hair was messier than ever.

"I'm sorry, Jerry," she sighed, opening the door to greet the old man. But standing in front of her was not the grey-haired man with furrowed eyebrows, ready to scold her, but it was the boy she had been crushing on since forever instead.

"Rafe?" she exclaimed, and she couldn't deny the shock spreading through her veins at the sight of him. He was sweaty, like he had just been in a fight, and his shirt was sticking to his body. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, I'm sorry, can I come in?"

The smell of freshly baked cupcakes wafted into his nostrils, and he noticed the drool in his mouth. He didn't eat dinner that much, being forced to chase after his sister, and all he wanted was to enjoy some good food and get a good sleep for the night.

"I'm not. . . we can't. . . I'm not prepared for anything-"

"It's okay, I didn't come for sex," he bit his lips, trying to contain her amused laughter at her statement. "We're friends, (Y/N), aren't we?"

"Yeah," she raised a brow, not grasping at the way he was playing his words. She allowed him in, asking him to sit by the kitchen counter and checking her porch outside to see if there was any cameras in case he was trying to prank her.

Rafe Cameron never contacted her for anything if it wasn't for sex.

"What are you making?" he pointed at the mess on the kitchen, and (Y/N) tried to hide her red face as she quickly tried to put the stained bowls and cutleries into the sink.

"Uh, cupcakes."

"Yum," he chuckled, liking the way she was so nervous around him. The truth with (Y/N), she was extremely wild in bed but also very shy outside. It was like a complete two different person, but he was always intrigued by this.

The first time they had done the deed, he was shocked when she got into control, and he would lie if he said he didn't enjoy it. That night was one of Rafe’s best nights, the starting point to the many after.

"Relax, (Y/N)," he laughed, watching as she tilted a cup and placing his hand under the table to catch it before it could break. (Y/N) yelped, struck to her position, and let out the biggest relief when Rafe put it back to its previous place, safe as ever.

"Why are you so jumpy?" he whispered, sneaking beside her to help with whatever she was doing. He hadn't got a clue about this whole baking thing, only watching Cake Wars for the drama, but he wanted to help the girl beside him if it means he got to spend time with her.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, glancing at Rafe's hands as he whisked the fluffy frosting. "Rafe, you're going to get it more clumpy."

"No, I won't."

"Rafe, I swear," she groaned, reaching over to grab the whisk only for him to turn around, laughing while she struggled to get him.

"I'm just making it more fluffier," he smiled, continuing to whisk the mixture without even looking at the white colloid. He was too busy looking at her, and he wondered if she knew about the small amount of flour powder that had gotten on the top of her nose.

"Was the coke good?"

"Huh?" she tilted her head, confused, and still angry at the way he was not listening to her.

"The nose. Was the coke good?"

(Y/N) gave him a look before going to the corner to stare at herself in the mirror, letting out a yelp when she saw the powdery stain on her nose. She quickly dusted them off, stalking back to the still-whisking boy, and she wondered about the amount of energy he had in him and how he was still not tired.

"Rafe! It's all clumped!" she sighed, finally having a hold on the large bowl. She took her a finger and tipped it into the mixture, pulling out before slipping the finger into her mouth. Her face scrunched up, and she reached for the glass of water by her side.

"What? It's more prettier. More texture-ish. If we're in Cake Wars, we'll be the winner."

"That's not how it works," she groaned, pouring the failed mixture into the sink and letting the water cleansed them off. "Now my cupcake's going to be naked."

"You know what can be naked too?"

She held up her middle finger, placing the wet bowl onto the counter and using the clean cloth to wipe it dry. "And I'm not giving these to the children's home naked. You have to help me, Rafe."

Rafe felt a smile tugging on his lips at the mention of 'children’s home', and he thought about how perfect could she be. She’s the epitome of the girl everyone wants to be - she's good in school, never using anyone's money for her, good at baking, and has a big heart?

He thought about how she's good in bed too, but he tired to shake the childish thought away.

"What can I do? Should I go to the store and get any Betty Crocker's frosting?" he offered, his hands in his pocket to reach for his keys. He watched as her shoulder slumped, and he felt bad for ruining her cake. He touched her shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would actually be clumped. I thought it would get even more fluffier."

"You don't think, Rafe, that's why," she sighed, "But that's alright. Do you think you can help me make another one?"

"Are you sure? I don't want to ruin anything," he backed away, glancing at the sink and thinking about the clumped mixture making their way to the sewer.

"Yes. Can you reach for that sugar? That's flour, Rafe, god, yes, yes, okay, c'mere," she rolled her eyes, taking the container from him and dumping the content into the dried bowl. "Now, what do we do?"

"Put water?"

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side, trying to clutch her stomach from hurting. "Yeah, if you want the kids to get sick."

"Okay, Gordon, what should we do next?" he grunted, but he liked the lightness in the air. How the conversation flowed easily, and how quick he regained her trust to help her make whatever this is.

It was like she didn't care about the Rafe Cameron that gets into fights with the pogues or snorts coke when he's stressed. He felt like staying in this moment forever, wanting to help her bake whatever and watching her smile.

(Y/N) handed him the butter, muttering something along the words of 'dump them in', 'use the mixture', 'you're going to break your arms' and 'watch while it's whisking'.

He didn't care about the many orders she was giving him - he enjoyed it. He truly liked how his night was ending after a long day of bullshit, starting with his college sending him a letter for the vandalism he had caused outside of the Dean's office, Kelce and Topper going on a road trip without him and giving him the explanation of 'we asked you, and you said no'.

In truth, he didn't even remember anything about meeting them. His memory was starting to fade, and he shuddered at the thought of not knowing anyone when he reaches Ward's age.

"Okay, that's enough," she groaned, switching the button off. Rafe apologized quickly, being so caught up with his own thoughts, and waited for her next order.

"Choose the colour," she exclaimed happily, pointing out two different food dyes. "I can't choose!"

Rafe skimmed over the label that said 'blue' and 'pink', and made a face. "Are you going to give the blue ones to the boys and the pinks to the girls or something?"

"What? No?"

"Okay. . . why can't we just use both?"

"And make purple?"

"Yeah? Hey, look, I'm wearing blue and you're wearing pink!"

(Y/N) looked down to the ribbed top, noticing the colour, and her face turned into a red shade. Now everything's going to be awkward.

"Okay, purple it is," she rolled her eyes, giving him the blue bottle and taking the pink one for herself. "Three drops together. Are you ready?"

"Mhm."

"1."

Rafe licked his lips, so eager to watch the colour forming.

"2," she looked at him, and back to the frosting. "Rafe!"

"What?" he raised a brow, following her gaze and watching the blue dots on the frosting. He put his hand over his mouth, too stunned to say anything. "Oh my god, I'm so-"

(Y/N) laughed out loud, this time with her hands gripping onto the kitchen counter to stabilize herself, her mind rewinding back to his expression when he found out what he just did.

"Ha-ha, now you're just being an asshole," he rolled his eyes, but he was glad he had made her laugh. Instinctively, her laugh had made him feel better, and all of his worries dissipated into the air.

After a while, she tried to get ahold of herself to put the pink drops in, but failing to do so as his face kept appearing in her mind. Rafe groaned, having to wait for a few minutes now, and pulled her to feet. He pushed her against the counter, her back against his front as he trapped her.

"Don't laugh."

(Y/N) bit her lips, being in this position but not for what they usually do, and concentrated on dropping 3 drops of pink into the bowl. She cheered when she was done, pulling his hand away to move to the other side. The back of her neck was still hot, and she could still feel his arms around her.

"Mix it," Rafe smiled, leaning against the counter to watch as the mixer whisked the frosting, turning the pearly white colloid to a beautiful dark purple.

"It's dark!" she groaned, but she thought about how it still looked good, though it wasn't her expectation. Her job was almost finished now, and she could hear her bed calling.

"Now, the fun part," she smiled, taking her icing materials and placing them before his eyes. She watched as he laughed, being so excited as if he was a toddler seeing a playground for the first time.

"They used these in Cake Wars," he said proudly, showing her a nozzle.

"Stop with your Cake Wars," she mumbled, preparing the icing bag and giving Rafe one. "Put some frosting- not yet, Rafe, God, do you ever wait? Don't fill the bags too much, just in the middle, yes, just like that, and, wait, let me do mine."

She showed him how to do the perfect icing, practicing on a clean plate and asking him to do the same. He scoffed at her, saying how he got this, but what appeared was nothing more than a crooked line.

"That's nice," she muttered, sighing. "For a coming-out party."

Rafe groaned, trying to copy her artwork, and by the time it was 12.03 a.m., he had managed a copy of hers. Not literal, but there was a hint of hers in his.

"Okay. Now, Rafe, we'll make this quick. I do 80 cupcakes, and you do 20. Is that okay?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, concentrating on his piping bag. He watched as she did the first cupcake, ending her icing perfectly and exclaiming happily as she put it aside. She looked at him, waiting.

"Don't look at me, you're making me nervous," he mumbled, and leaned to decorate the cupcake. It took him a total of 2 minutes, stopping at times and getting a yell from (Y/N), saying how he should not stop, and the result was impressive. At least to him.

"This will probably be in the rejected part of a bakery, you know, that they'll sell with a discount."

"Not everyone can do arts, (Y/N)," he rolled his eyes, but he truly enjoyed the joke.

It was nearing one in the morning when Rafe saw her sighing in relief, placing the last cupcake into the pastry box and safely storing them in the refrigerator. Her hair was in a bun, he had helped her put them up, and when she refused to let him help her, he gave her a poke.

"What? It's not like it's my first time putting your hair up."

"God, Rafe, you're impossible."

His eyes were almost shut, being so tired after being a cake decorator, and all he wished for was to pull her into her bed and sleep until the morning greets them. He waited until she was done cleaning all of the utensils, walking tiredly towards to him to wake him up.

"Get change, Rafe, I'm not letting you sleep in my bed with that shirt and that sweatpants."

"It's not a problem before," he mumbled, allowing himself to be pulled by her to the bedroom. He removed his shirt weakly, pulling off his sweatpants and jumping into the bed as soon as she closed the light. (Y/N) giggled lightly, noticing how adorable he was being, and she pinched his cheeks before she could stop herself.

"Take off your clothes."

"I'm not going to take off my clothes," she laughed, pulling down her shorts and getting into the bed beside him. She finally laid her back against the mattress, letting out the biggest relief ever as she tried to get comfortable.

He pulled her close towards him, breathing into her scent. She smelled like cupcakes, and he loved it.

"I'm going to the children's home with you."

"What?" she pulled a face, because she wasn't sure if she had heard him right. There was no way Rafe Cameron would ever step his foot into a children's home, what more to give out dark purple cupcakes.

"I'm going to the children's home with you. To give them cupcakes."

(Y/N) smiled and kissed his cheeks. "Okay."

"And we should do this again."

"Okay."

"Goodnight, Rafe," she laughed lightly, placing another peck before closing her eyes.

He placed a long kiss fully on her lips, feeling the butterflies soaring in his stomach. "Goodnight, (Y/N)."

taglist is close atm until i figure out wtf is up with tumblr :(

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleep @im19yearsold @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @drewstarkeyluver @unfortunatekiwitrash @Mellifluouszayn @hhishho @hvrcruxes @scottybitch @asimpwriter @starxqt @amaya124 @Made212 @adriee16 @eggirl @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @beyatch012 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @lumzs @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @Emmalvei_03 @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagines #rafe cameron smuts #rafe cameron fluff #outerbanks #outerbanks imagines #outerbanks x reader

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goeie-morgen · 3 years

Text

Gossip Guy podcast with Willem De Schryver

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYjtRYOGS00

translated by @jackfrostsander @bruisingknees @lblogss @yousmina and me :)

E: I do have another present for you.

W: Oei oei oei, presents.

E: I do that every week. I give something to my guest of the week.

W: Oei oei oei. Do I slide it?

E: Here in the front is a flap that you have to fold upwards…

[Intro]

E: Wassup people, welcome to a new episode of the Gossip Guy podcast. My name is Ender Scholtens and today I’m here with Willem De Schryver. Everything ok?

W: Sure sure (In Dutch sure is used as a confirmation to a question).

E: Is this your first podcast?

W: Yes, this is my first podcast.

E: Stress?

W: No, it will be fine, right? Relaxed.

E: I don’t know… (laughing). For the people who don’t recognize you, from where could they know you?

W: Hmmm, probably from the youth series WTFOCK where, in the third season, I play the role of Sander.

E: And we are allowed to talk about it in this podcast.

W: Yeah I also heard that. Yes, it’s over.

E: Was it a difficult chapter of your life to close?

W: Yes, I still clearly remember the last moment… Like really the last last scene at the sea… That was an emotional moment because you went through a lot as a group, you did a lot together, and emotional scenes, intimate scenes. But yes, I think, if I speak for the whole group that it was a goodbye to the series but not a goodbye from each other. We still keep in contact. Mainly through WhatsApp.

E: Yeah, the end of the series was beautiful. I sat next to my girlfriend when it just came online. Because there were a few scenes that we hadn’t seen yet and we were just watching them… And we refreshed and the last episode was online… The last piece was online… So, I thought… I really cried… It caused quite some emotions.

W: For many people… Also under the cast and even the extras that were present for that last scene… Even among them. I can remember that they got emotional because it really was over over. I think that we, WTFOCK, have been able to impact a lot of young people in Belgium. So, it’s beautiful… We closed it beautifully…

E: I don’t doubt that. I really liked the end. What is your favorite memory from your whole WTFOCK experience?

W: Hoh, hmmm. Do I have to choose one? Difficult to choose one… I think that the most enjoyable moments… At the end of each series… Almost… We were at the sea or in the Ardennes, as a group, for a vacation. Away together. And those moments… Away with the whole cast and crew… Being away for a whole weekend. And in the evening, talking late into the night and that creates a special connection and I think that, in general, was the most enjoyable… Yes, it affects me… You share, as a young person, a common dream or something we want to realize as an actor to succeed and everyone who works so hard for that… That’s nice to see.

E: I recently talked to Veerle and I know that if she sees Nora, like somewhere, say at a party… Then they stay together for the whole evening… Do you have that? With who did you have the best connection throughout that whole experience?

W: Yes…

E: That doesn’t mean that the rest is not chill or so…

W: No the rest is all stupid… There’s only one person… I hate you all! (joking) No! Yes, hmmm, I think that I definitely have the best connection with Willem. Just because we have been through a lot… I always compare the WTFOCK crew a bit to my own friend group, aside from the cast. I mean, I know to whom I can go for what. I know I can go to some if I feel sad, to talk and I know who I can go to to have a laugh. And who I can go to to have a general chat. And everyone has their qualities or like their own aura around them… Where I love to hang around. So, it differs from person to person. So, it’s hard to choose one person but Willem then in the sense that, if you jump naked together in a swimming pool and if you have intimate scenes together… That creates a connection, of course. So, yes, if I have to choose one person…

E: Is there a barrier that you have to overcome to play such scenes? Because they are very intimate, indeed. And I, personally, couldn’t imagine… I can’t act… But, to empathize with a role… To play such scenes… Is that difficult for you?

W: Huh, yes, that’s a question I get often. I mean like… Yeah and you have to empathize with that character… But yes, you step into that project with a certain professionalism and you say “okay, we are going to create a story and bring it to the public with certain values and that we want to tell something and show something” …So, yes, you don’t really think about it. So, it’s not like I thought “Ooooo, I am kissing with a boy but I am interested in girls”. That was not a problem for me because it really is about telling the story and making that together and if the story requires that then you just completely go for it.

E: That’s cool. What are your future acting ambitions? You now have played in a series, is that something you want to do more in the future or do you like theatre more or movie or…

W: I find it difficult to choose between theatre and film, for example. After WTFOCK I played in Déjà Vu, which you can see on Streamz and later this year on Channel 4… And I study theatre at KASK. And I notice the difference, due to the recordings, I am really in the field and I am busy and I work, while at school I learn new things about theatre… So, in my opinion I have more experience in television work because I actually have done projects for that and I haven’t yet for theatre, which is still school and learning. So, I think it’s currently hard to choose but I think, maybe it’s a cliché answer, but the combination is maybe ideal, of course. But I am still exploring and I will see how it goes…

7:02

E: What is your favorite food?

W: My favorite food?

E: Yes.

W: Hmmmm, in the past I was really a basic guy… Like spaghetti bolognese or so… But now, generally after my exams, I go to a restaurant with my grandma. She always buys. That’s always amazing. I am a fan. And I always take steak tartare with fries. That remains a bit of a guilty pleasure.

E: How long, do you think, would it take you to eat five full plates of spaghetti bolognese?

W: Hoh, hmmm. The thing is, my stomach is rather small…

E: Small?

W: I think that I would have to schedule in… Okay, after a certain time I would have to throw up and then eating further…

E: You’re allowed to take a break. You’re allowed to say… Okay, I take a few days…

W: No, no, not that…

E: You’re going to do it in a day?

W: Look, two plates… Three if I really push…

E: You get preparation time so you know like a week before… So, you can like…

W: Train yourself?

E: Yes, train…

W: Hoh, alee say about four hours…

E: Four hours?! Five plates, he? Like five really big plates…

W: Yeah but yeah, four minutes… I am exaggerating… Let’s say a day… In a day five plates…

E: Ok, that should work. Then you basically have every meal… Breakfast… Lunch… Dinner… and in between… pasta…

W: Pasta as breakfast…

E: One day should definitely be feasible.

W: Yes, indeed.

8:49

E: What is, according to you, the reason you were placed on this planet?

W: Fuck (laughs).

E: Existential crisis, okay? Have you never thought about what the purpose of life is and what…

W: Yes, certainly… Hmmm, I'm someone who worries a lot. When I'm in bed in the evening I start to think about questions like that and then I think “what am I doing? Willem… where do I want to go to and…” Hmmm, why was I put on this planet? Hmmmm… (speechless followed by laughing). This is really bad… It’s like I don’t value myself…

E: Noooo, but I didn’t expect a deep philosophical answer. Well, if you had one… really good but…

W: Okay I’m going to think about my philosophical answer… but no. If you want… No! Yes, now I'm really going to sound philosophical but… (crosstalk) Everyone who is on earth has a certain reason to be here and everyone… I for example have that… I really feel that… I never liked going to school. Especially, in lower and high school. I… I actually, on purpose, put my fingers in my throat in the morning to throw up…

E: Wow, that’s heavy…

W: And then going downstairs to say “papa I’m ill, can I stay home?” I don’t know why but that whole system… Sitting behind a desk all day… And those classes… that was not for me. And then I discovered my passion for acting and discovered that it really suited me. And that’s the thing… A lot of people often ask me like “how did you start?” and “I also would like to do that and where do I start and I have been rejected does that mean I am not good enough?” but I think that sometimes you shouldn’t rush to find your passion. It can take longer then you would like it to take. I think that if you too intensively search for "what am I good at?" and “I have to find something that I am good at” and… For me that’s happened unexpectedly. I did take acting classes on Wednesday afternoons after school and I kind of got into it like that… I think it differs for everyone and that everyone has their own purpose here on earth.

E: And would you say your purpose is acting?

W: Yeah…

E: There isn’t a right answer but how does it feel for you at the moment? Is that the thing you love doing the most or do you see yourself doing for a long time?

W: The thing is… I’m a person who gets tired of things very quickly. I’ve had a lot of hobbies.

E: So maybe next week you want to garden or something?

W: No, no I wouldn’t say that. No the thing is, with acting that isn’t the case. Since I was twelve… well first on amateur level…

E: How old are you now?

W: 19.

E: Oh wow I thought you were my age. 19… damn bro you’re three years younger than me.

W: 2001 represent.

E: That’s literally… you’re the same age as my brother! What the shit. Alright, no okay.

W: In November so almost 2002. I’m really a latecomer.

E: What?! You look like you’re the same age as me and everything.

12:14

W: But that’s honestly – thank you for saying that! I always used to be the “little guy.” None of the girls wanted to be with me cause they just thought I was cute.

E: I see.

W: And they came to me to talk about their love lives.

E: Oh, okay.

W: So I was always that guy who was like: “I’m in love with you.” “Oh, how cute! You’re so cute!” So I was always like: “Okay then, I’m never going to find anyone, I’m always going to stay… short. I’ll be all alone.” And then all of a sudden I –

E: Do you think height matters in regard to your chances with certain… people?

W: At this age I don’t think it does anymore, but I do think that – I think at – I just remember in high school that the romantic idea of what love was supposed to look like was very: a boy and a girl, and the boy has to be taller and stronger and bigger than the girl. But I think that now it’s more… I mean, at my age I’m convinced it’s more fluid than that, and it doesn’t have to be that way. So it doesn’t have to be an issue anymore.

E: But still, when you go on Twitter, short guys are still –

W: Yeah.

E: Totally annihilated.

W: I have notice – I have noticed – Yeah, it’s still… It’s still this… general thing that people get stuck on. Like: “Oh, a short dude. That’s not okay.” Or whatever.

E: Or like the guy has to be taller. But no, we’re – we’re – not… not all relationships… we’re really generalizing here. But I get what you mean.

W: Yeah.

E: No, it’s – I do think it’s still important. I think that when you’re, and this is really harsh, but that a lot of people look at you differently when you’re taller. I have this dude in my friend group, Louis Ledegen, and he’s close to 2 meters tall, and just some girls look at him and they just think that’s so… attractive or whatever. And I just can’t even imagine.

W: I don’t get that either.

E: That that makes them go like: “Wow!”

W: I was in the train just now and this dude walked by me and he was honestly like 2 meters tall and I was just thinking: “When you’re that tall, and you’re with…” I mean, the girl almost has to get on a stepping stool to reach him for a kiss! And girls are like – I mean, I’ve heard before that girls think it’s attractive when a man is really tall.

E: Yeah.

W: And yeah, I don’t know… I don’t totally get it.

E: No.

W: Maybe it’s cause I’m not that tall myself, that I’m like trying to protect myself and be all: “That’s not necessary!”

E: Yeah! If anybody knows the answer, do we, being shorter guys, have less of a chance?

W: Let us know, please.

14:53

E: Please let us know! We need some answers! Now in the show, wtFOCK, your hair’s a different color.

W: Yeah.

E: Yeah. Is that something… So that was actually – it wasn’t really blonde?

W: It was completely bleached.

E: Bleached.

W: It was more to the… But the thing is that they had to do it twice, cause the first time… I got there, for the first table read with the director and Willem [Herbots] and they were like: “Hey, Willem. We wanted to ask you something. We’d like to bleach your hair for the role.”

E: Yeah.

W: And I was like: “… Okay.”

E: Okay.

W: “And why?” No. “Just for the character and stuff.” So I was like: “Okay. That’s fine.” The thing is I had to be at the hairdresser for 4 hours for this.

E: Oh wow, heavy.

W: It was like this and this product, and it had to sit for a long time. It had to be bleached all over. And I got out of there the first time and I was completely yellow – but yellow like an egg.

E: Oh, shit!

W: And I… My mom dropped me off, and I texted her: “I’m done, will you come get me?” And I saw my mom approach and she just passed me by.

E: Oh wow.

W: She didn’t – she almost didn’t recognize me anymore. Like halfway - she was like – and then she was like: “Oh! Willem!” Like she hadn’t seen –

E: Oh shit.

W: That it was me. That I looked completely different. And then I arrived for another table read and Tom [Goris – director] was like: “Yeah… We’re not gonna go this route… This is too yellow.” So then I spent another 4 hours at the hairdresser. After that I had to be there for four hours almost every month. I did think it was cool to have bleached hair, but… You have to be at the hairdresser for so long, so that really wasn’t… my thing. I mean, I had some really cool moments with Mitch [Fabry – hair & make up wtFOCK]. Thanks, Mitch.

E: Would you ever dye your hair again?

W: Uhm.

E: Maybe another color?

W: Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m quite happy with my hair color, actually, I don’t know.

E: Alright.

W: Now it’s also like… Everyone always asks me: “So this is your natural hair color?”

E: Yeah.

W: And then I have to tell them: “Yeah.” And it’s like: “Oh, okay!” It’s this switch. But no, I’m happy with my hair. It’s fine.

17:03

E: I can also tell that you’ve got an earring? You can’t really tell on camera, but –

W: I’ll come a little closer [to the camera]. Yeah, I only got it recently, four weeks or something.

E: Yeah. Was it an impulsive, drunken decision, or something you wanted… for some time?

W: I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I was a little anxious about it like: “It’s not gonna look good on me,” and then after a while, a couple of months ago, I was like: “Fuck it, I’m just gonna do it.” And if it didn’t look good I could still just take it out, so it doesn’t really matter. But all in all I was pretty happy with it. My father, my parents – my mom: “Oh, so nice!!” And it was like – at first they give you a stud and then after four weeks you can change it to a hoop. And I really wanted a hoop, and I even asked the people in the (piercing) shop: “Can’t I please just get a hoop straight away?” And they were like: “No, sorry, it doesn’t work like that. For hygiene reasons that’s not okay.”

E: Okay.

W: But okay, so I had to wait four weeks and then eventually I could change it to the golden hoop. So I get home and the first thing my father said was: “Wow, you look like a douchebag.” That was the first thing out of his mouth, that I looked like a douchebag.

E: Is that the look you were going for?

W: No, not at all! Not at all!

E: I think it looks cool.

W: Thanks.

E: Cause a little while ago I wanted one, and so I put on my girlfriend’s earring – because even if your ear isn’t pierced it sticks a little –

W: Yeah.

E: And so I just put it on there for a day or something, and then I was like: “Okay, that’s quite enough.” I don’t know if I’d want it for longer than that. Recently I’ve been getting into rings and stuff though.

W: I wore rings for a long time, but I don’t have any anymore. I actually want – I like them too. But I have to –

18:47

E: If I’d known, I would’ve brought you a gift!

W: Go shopping. Goddamn!

E: I did bring you another gift though!

W: Another gift? Oei oei oei, gifts!

E: This is something I do every week, I give my guest of the week something.

W: Oei oei oei.

E: It’s just…

W: Do I just slide it –

E: There’s a little hatch over here, that you have to lift, and then you can just lift it like that. There we go.

W: There we go.

E: White hairspray.

W: If I’d want to go back to – there we have it. Too good.

E: It can be washed out really easily as well. So this way you don’t have to be at the hairdresser for like four hours. And then when you’re sick of it, you can just get rid of it again!

W: That was the thing… Thank you, by the way.

E: You’re very welcome.

W: Now I can go back – Now I can go back to my past life. No, that was the thing as well. People who – people who - after wtFOCK came online, people really recognized me with the white hair. I mean, it’s pretty noticeable, when I’m walking through Ghent station – if someone with bleached hair. I mean, if you watch the show, I can imagine that when you see someone with bleached hair, you immediately connect the two and think: “Oh, that could be him.” And then you run in to some people who ask for pictures. After that my hair was really short, cause the people from Déja-Vu were like: “We’re not gonna do this, just go back to your natural hair color.” So I cut it all off, and there was this time where… nobody came to talk to me anymore. I was able to just be myself again. It was as if – looking back on it, it was actually really nice that for wtFOCK I was able to completely get into a different character with different hair. And the first time I got rid of the hair I really noticed that was no longer being associated with the character.

E: Hannah Montana vibes! Your hair changes color and nobody knows who you are anymore.

W: “Who are you?”

E: “Who the fuck are you?!”

W: “Does anybody want to take pictures with me? It’s me! It’s me! I swear!”

E: “I’m that dude from wtFOCK! I’m that dude from wtFOCK!”

W: So if people don’t recognize me anymore I can just… *pshhht* in the morning.

E: Exactly! If you want to take some more pictures, you can just…

W: No, no. That’s fine. No, yeah.

E: It’s kind of crazy, actually. Because, honestly? The very first time I saw a flash of you, with this hair color, I also thought: “I recognize you from somewhere…” But I think I’d already gotten in contact with you through social [media] and I didn’t put two and two together that you…

W: Yeah.

E: “Aaah!”

W: “Aaah! You’re that guy!”

E: Yeah, so…

W: But that’s the whole thing. If someone recognizes me, which doesn’t happen that often by the way, it’s always – I think it’s funny to be like: “No, that’s not me.”

E: No.

W: People really start doubting themselves, it’s very: “Uhm, can I ask you a question? Are you that guy from wtFock?” “Me? No.”

E: “No!”

W: “That’s not me.” And people will often be like: “Oh? What? But I recognize you…” That doubt on their faces is pretty funny but yeah, then I tell them it’s me.

E: Just the reaction of someone being like: “Huh, do I know you from somewhere?” “Do you watch porn?”

W: The confrontation.

E: “Oh… qmdkjg.” And it’d be even better if the parents were right there as well. “Argh!”

W: “Yes, Jürgen, care to explain yourself, young man?”

E: No, it’s just funny to joke about. But you’ve never – Do you just get: “Hey, are you that guy from wtFOCK?” Or have people also asked you: “Do I know you from somewhere?” Or: “What do I know you from?”

W: Yeah, it depends. The thing is – I go to school in Ghent and when the [popular place where college students go out] was still open before Covid-19, not that I went there often because I didn’t really like it there –

E: No.

W: - in the sense that the combination of young people who –

E: Watch wtFOCK.

W: - watch wtFOCK and alcohol – and people who’ve had alcohol to drink –

E: And are horny?

W: - their limits or boundaries are just gone. “Oh my god!!! You’re that dude from wtFOCK!! Can I kiss you??” Things like that!

E: Oh, fuck!

W: And I was really like: “Okay…?” I’m just a regular dude and I’m trying – and I actually thought it was less annoying for myself, but I thought it was more disruptive for my friends. Like even when we were just walking down the street, we got recognized a couple of times, and I was just like: I just want to have fun with my friends, and not have to spend too much time thinking. That’s another thing I was subconsciously thinking about. Imagine I drink way too much.

E: Yeah.

W: And I end up in the gutter somewhere, and people start filming that… So yeah, that made… So because of that I spent more time in friends’ dorm rooms just having dorm parties.

E: And since your bleached hair is gone, have you gone to a party?

W: When my bleached hair was gone corona was already a thing so I haven’t been able to enjoy it. But it’s starting to come back [the parties] so that’s nice. I’m looking forward to… tomorrow I’m going-

E: Are you going as well?

W: Are you going to Plein Air by Fuse?

E: Tomorrow I’m going to Jaimie Lee who-

W: …Is going to DJ at three festivals.

E: Yeah at three festivals and I will be backstage I guess.

W: Okay.

E: One of those festivals?

W: Yeah I don’t know. I have tickets for Fuse Open Air in Brussels.

24:19

E: I honestly have no idea where I’m going. Anyway, I’m excited. And I always asked, what’s the first event you went to ever since it’s allowed? Did you go to We Can Dance festival?

W: No I was studying.

E: Was today your last exam or yesterday?

W: Yesterday was my last exam in the morning. I was stressing so much, because I thought I would fail, but eventually I think it went relatively well. If you’re watching professors, let me pass please. No I think it went well.

E: Are you someone who is stress resistant?

W: Uhh no.

E: No?

W: I let it take over my body.

E: You get physically unwell?

W: I will be laying in bed and I’m tossing and turning and sweating. And I think about how I’m not gonna pass tomorrow. And the combination with my worries is really not good. It makes me stay up really late. The thing is with stress resistant, I for example made my own play at high school about a kid with divorced parents for my final work and the whole audience was filled with my family and my parents. That’s pretty confronting to tell a story that’s also a little bit of their life and is pretty personal. I’m always stressed for things like that. Then it’s weird – from the first word I spoke I had a lot of stress and worries and the first sentence that I said was something like “I don’t know what to do”, and then it’s all of a sudden poofff. The train has left.

E: You said you didn’t really know what to do now.

W: That’s the first sentence of the text that I wrote and the moment I said that sentence I thought in my head “the train has left, there’s no way back now” and then the stress disappears automatically. But before the final rehearsal there was a moment that I was moving around heavily and I was throwing with chairs. And afterwards I had to pack moving boxes, which was okay. But from moving around and the combination of stress it made me almost gag in the box from the stress so I almost puked. So at these moments it gets pretty heavy.

E: Did other people notice or were you hiding it?

W: Yeah the final rehearsal was luckily not with an audience, but my teachers were like “Everything alright?” and I was like “Yeah I’m good. It’s a bit much”. But when it comes to stress, a lot of people always say – I’m even a little stressed right now actually.

E: Really?

W: Podcasts, oh no no.

E: Oh shit. You have to be (stressed)

W: A lot of pressure on my shoulder here. No, but a lot of people say that it doesn’t look like that I’m stressed even though I really am dying from all the stress.

E: Only now you can hide it really well. You should become an actor.

W: A lot of people have said that to me often, but it’s not my interest. Also not much work in the field.

E: That too, fuck. Are you someone who constantly pretends like you’re okay?

W: Yes.

E: Even when you have a lot of shit going on in your head and you’re processing other things?

W: I'm one person. One person?

E: "I'm one person" [laughs]

W: I am one person. No, but I'm someone who often keeps their stuff to themselves, so that I can listen to what others need.

28:15

E: That was my next question. You listen more to other people’s problems and you’re the person people come to with their problems?

W: I think, at least I hope, that a lot of my friends do know that they can always come to me for a talk or a phone call. I'm someone that will shove away their happiness for someone else, which isn’t always positive of course.

E: It is a beautiful characteristic, but it shouldn’t take over indeed.

W: In the past it has happened that I was falling apart, but I kept pushing it away, because I wanted to take care of someone else. I noticed this a lot during the divorce of my parents. My parents had a hard time with the divorce and I remember that I came home as a little boy and I saw my mom sitting and I felt the duty to comfort her and to be there for her, even though I was 8 or 9 years old. That’s not something you expect to do or think from an 8 year old. It really broke me and now I can openly speak about it, because I have had enough conversations with my parents about it, about how it was for me. And I made a play about it, as I told earlier, so it’s been a whole process and that has scarred me till at least my 16th. My parents got divorced when I was 5 or 6 years old. It took me a long time to open up because of that. I notice it a lot in previous relationships, that I walk away from fights, because I would find the confrontation too heavy to get into a fight and to discuss. The divorce and fights with my parents scarred me so hard that I didn’t want that again. I wanted everything to be rainbow and sunshine, but life doesn’t work like that. And that was partly a misconception from me, that I thought that a relationship had to be perfect, if there is a fight, then it’s not going well. Now I realize that fights are part of a relationship. And also part of steps you take into accepting each other, listening to each other and understanding each other. It’s needed for a stronger connection. You can’t, well you can, but in my eyes you can’t be with someone for a long time without ever having had a conflict. Even if it’s a discussion, because then you’re adapting too much to the other, and then you say okay, I’m adapting to the demands of her and I suppress my own things or things I want to do, only to avoid the discussion, and that’s something I learned. And that’s how everyone learns their own things along the way.

E: You still see it in the youth, those romantic movies, where everyone is so in love and it always ends with a kiss or something and it’s always good and then you think, this must be the case in real life. Why can’t I find Gabriella Montez for my Troy Bolton. Even though that was a shitty relationship too, they were constantly fighting. No, but that gives a wrong image about relationships and for other things because of movies. And the reality is just different.

32:16

W: Yes. I recently for the first time -this is kinda embarrassing because it’s a must see- watched The Notebook.

E: Me too! What did you think?

W: It has been a few weeks ago. Or a few weeks, maybe 3 or something.

E: I watched it last weekend.

W: I almost cried.

E: Really?

W: I’m a really emotional person. I can really cry. I can really get lost in a movie. “No not the puppy, why?!” Those things, where I think "Willem, act normal". But no it was a beautiful movie.

E: Yeah I have a different opinion, because I just fell asleep. I fell asleep, because it all went so slow, it started so slow. I didn’t even watch the kiss in the rain scene.

W: The moment. It’s in literally every romantic movie. In the rain, it happens everywhere.

Ender: Yeah mate, it’s such a cliché actually, but yeah.

W: I bet you that they’re just standing there with a garden hose.

E: Definitely.

W: It can’t be that they’re waiting, “is it gonna rain today? We need to do that scene now”.

33:27

E: Checking the rain alarm while everyone is inside. There are definitely sprinklers there. It’s in a lot of romantic movies. Now that we’re talking about it, the filming you did with wtFock, you sometimes had scenes outside. Here we have those (light) spots, I assume that you don’t carry them outside. How do you guys do that?

W: Sometimes we do have spots outside, but as long as the light from the sun is okay – with a binocular (telescope), well it’s not a binocular, it’s a round thing you can look through and with it they can determine the brightness of the sun and if the sun is too bright for the lightning they need, then it gets shielded, the same that is in front of your lamps. With that they can dim the lights. Or when there is not enough they use isomo plates, that’s really weird. Sometimes there are really intimate scenes in a series where it looks like it’s really close to the skin of the actors. There is a camera with a plate on it and a stick for the sound above it, it sometimes made it really hard for me to focus, because everyone is sitting there and the director and I’m like “yeah, okay okay”. So it takes a lot to get it all professional.

E: Was there a crazy moment where you forgot your lines? That you’re laying in bed and you’re like “which sentence do I have to say now?”

W: Yeah we’ve definitely had a lot of bloopers. Yeah forgetting lines or.. the thing is, as long as the director doesn’t say cut, you have to keep going. It’s a matter of "how do I improvise myself around this scene to get to the point we actually have to get to", because you have a scene and you have your lines, but if you forget something, then you do know the main lines of where the scene has to go to. You know the scene will end in a kiss or something and these subjects will be spoken about in the conversation, so when you forget your lines, you try to work your way through it as best as possible. And when the director says it wasn’t good, then we’ll do it again. I’ve had a lot of moments where I forgot my lines and I was laying in bed with Willem and we would look at each other and we’d know that I had to say something, but I was stuck, so there would be a 10 seconds silence, hoping for them to say cut. Yeah so those kinds of moments a lot or moments where I… I also had that with Déjà Vu. I remember… by the way it was amazing to work together with such big names as Natali Broods and Koen De Graeve. And Koen, lovely person, was kind of the father figure on set and we had a scene, next to the bed, a quite emotional scene. And the camera was focused on me, close up on my face. And I still remember that, the sound was going, everything, and Koen had just told a joke, or made a face that made me laugh. So, I had to laugh really hard, but I had to act very sad. It was an intense scene of goodbyes. All the time, starting to laugh about everything. I still remember for wtFock we made a video with bloopers and those are very fun to watch back.

37:03

E: Are those bloopers ever published somewhere online?

W: I don’t think so.

E: I think if you’d be able to release them somewhere that a lot of people would be interested in them.

W: Yes, yes. I don’t know why, indeed. The fans would be happy with those.

E: I think a lot of people- because we were just talking about your biggest fan.

W: My biggest-

E: Your grandma.

W: My grandma, yes. Big shout out to my grandma.

E: Do you think she’s watching right now?

W: She’ll definitely watch, I hope so.

E: What’s your grandma’s name?

W: Micheline.

E: Micheline, thank you very much for watching Micheline.

W: Micheline.

E: I appreciate it.

W: Women in power. She deserves a special place. No really, she follows all the fan accounts of wtFock. And then sometimes, or very often, we call and she gives me an update of what’s being said on the internet. Or yes, I also remember, when scenes come out and there’s things being said and she’s like "Willem, is that true, what are they saying?" And I say "Grandma, it’s nothing, it’s all from the show." "Ah okay, okay." So yes, very sweet grandma. She’s like the grandma where everything was allowed. I think that’s the same for everyone. At home, there are a lot of rules, and then you got to sleepover at your grandma’s and it was like: "Oh, I get to stay up later, and she made pudding for me." Her vanilla pudding-

E: That good?

W: Grandma, if you’re seeing this, please make some vanilla pudding when I visit.

E: Dude, everything’s falling out of my pocket.

W: You’re letting everything fall out of your pocket? Maybe you need to buy another pair of pants.

E: The chair is too comfortable that I’m kind of sinking in it, and now I constantly get-

W: The conversation’s too comfortable-

E: It’s just my phone, it’s vibrating, I think it just vibrated out of my pocket. So, silent, great. Eh, what were we talking about? About your grandma.

W: About my grandma.

38:46

E: Now, totally different subject. If you were a fish, what color fish would you be?

W: A fish?

E: Which color do you identify most with?

W: Eh.

E: And you’re a fish too of course.

W: Identify with which color. The thing is, I’m in the scouts. And in the Jins, that’s the last year before you become a leader, we were given a color totem, and the whole group decided on a color that fits you.

E: All right.

W: And mine was mango orange.

E: Wow, that’s cool.

W: Yeah, I thought it was cool too. And it means, if I have to think back, mango has quite a hard peel, relatively, but the fruit itself is quite soft. And that refers to my personality. I’m someone that lets people in fast, around me, but in the beginning, suspicion is a little strong, but kind of like, testing. Let’s say that. But once- From the outside I might look a bit hard. A lot of people say that when I have my straight face-

E: Resting bitch face.

W: That I’m angry. I was once told on the subway by a dude, and I was just listening to music, staring in the distance, and I think, suddenly a dude comes up to me, in French: "C’est quoi ton problème, heh, tu regardes come ça, c’est quoi ton problème." And I was like: "I’m sorry". Apparently, I was looking in his direction with my-

E: Bitch face.

W: Bitch face. He must have thought I was looking for problems. So yeah, that’s why the mango, a little hard on the outside, but once you get to know me better, a soft, sweet boy. So that’s why, orange. So, an orange fish then.

E: A little bit of Nemo vibes.

W: Yes, Nemo then. But let’s, what’s that theory. Did you hear that?

E: Theory?

W: About Nemo.

E: What’s the theory?

W: Haven’t you heard that? I keep seeing that online. I’m having a crisis. So the thing is, your childhood will get ruined.

E: Fuck man.

W: The thing is-

E: But there really are, no keep going, I have something I want to say afterwards.

W: The thing is, I’ve heard, that Nemo is Latin for nobody, and that the father is imagining that he still has an egg left, but that that fish doesn’t actually exist.

E: Oh fuck.

W: And that Dory joins him, and he sees, we’re actually not looking for anyone, but because he has memory issues, he constantly forgets that they’re not looking for anyone. So, they’re actually looking for nobody. And I saw that online and I was like.

E: Damn, so all the eggs are eaten, but he imagines that someone still has to be there.

W: Yes, something to keep living for.

E: Fuck man, that’s very brutal. That’s very fucked up.

W: Sorry to everyone for who Nemo is ruined now.

E: There’s a similar theory about Phineas and Ferb, and then Candice, their sister, is based on a true story about a girl that lost her brothers and still imagines that they're still doing stuff in the garden. And she keeps telling her mom: "Look, look, they are still here, they’re doing that." And that the mom says: "They’re not there." And that’s why she can never see that. You get it? Brutal right?

W: My whole childhood is ruined. Fucking hell.

E: That’s going to be the title of this podcast.

W: Childhood ruined.

E: We’re ruining your childhood.

42:17

W: We’re ruining your childhood. No but that’s good because, thankfully, I have a half-sister, but I say sister because I think half-sister is an ugly word, of seven years old. She thinks she’s 16. She’s a real diva.

E: Oh wow, okay.

W: She’s very, I’ll tell you a story later, but the thing is, I experience all those things with her again. In the beginning it was like, turning the tv on, Bumba, again. And I could secretly watch with her without feeling guilty. I was like, I’m watching Bumba and secretly I’m enjoying it, but sssh, I’m just watching it with my sister.

E: That exactly.

W: And now it’s Ketnet, like Hoodie, those series that she’s watching. And yes, I notice that because of all the technology today, she has an iPad, she’s on YouTube, she’s watching those self-made crafts.

E: 7 years old?

W: 7 years old, yes.

E: Wow.

W: She watches those- where people are playing with Barbies and they make a little play with them online on YouTube and they do stuff. Yes, a tablet. She has an iPad that’s bigger than her head. That makes me think- well, an iPad is usually bigger than everyone’s head. Or well, almost.

E: Not if you have a mini of course.

W: Her head isn’t that big.

E: Okay.

W: She’s on it a lot though. But she’s a real diva. I think the best story I have, there’s multiple. I remember the story, we were sitting at the table and she was having another moment of "I’m the princess, and everyone can leave because I do what I want and fuck you all". But the thing is, there’s five kids at home. I have a brother and two stepbrothers. So, she has four brothers, and she knows very well that she has four brothers. And that makes her feel even more like she’s the princess at home. So, we were sitting at the table. And she kept staring at my dad like this while throwing her cutlery on the ground. Like "what are you going to do". And my dad was like: "Liv," because her name is Liv by the way, "stop that."

E: That wasn’t nice of Liv. (Liv sounds the same as lief which means nice in Dutch.)

W: No. Not nice of-

E: Haha. Sorry.

W: Badam pam ts. Can’t we put that under here. Yes.

E: No, sorry, keep going.

W: So, he was like: "Liv, stop that, stop that." He started to get annoyed, because she kept going. "Liv, what is so hard to understand about no." And then it got silent at the table so I thought, okay, it’s done. The o.

E: Oh wow.

W: 7 years old and she drops that.

E: Oh wow.

W: And I thought, okay.

E: Damn bro.

W: The o. That she even dares to say that. Yeah, and she has those moments. She was sitting at the table, with her mask on, eating. So, she pulled her mask down to eat, and then she was chewing with her mask on. And then I asked: "Liv, why are you wearing your mask?" "Yes, you came back from Ghent, you’re not in my bubble."

E: Okay, okay.

W: So, then I said: "Okay, that’s fine." It’s crazy how that goes around among young children. Because my sister came back home from school crying once. And I asked her: ‘Liv, what’s wrong?’ "Yes, my friends didn’t let me play with them." So, I was like: "Why?" "Margot says I’m not allowed in her bubble."

E: Oh wow.

W: See, that’s becoming the new- we played with Pokémon cards on the playground and now it’s about playing games in bubbles because it’s so-

E: Damn.

W: Yes, you’re only allowed to have four people in your bubble so we don’t play with more than four.

E: Oh wow.

W: So I found that kind of crazy, or confronting that it made me think like, even at such a young age it has an impact. And I know that the-

E: That it leaves an impression.

W: Yes, and I know that my dad-

E: It’s sad that children have to think about it.

W: Yes, exactly.

E: Well, it’s not that- everyone should think about it of course.

W: Yes, yes, of course. It’s also that I know the way my dad feels about raising, that he tells Liv straight up about things that are happening in the world. He doesn’t make things seem nicer, or saying, eh, yes, no, but that’s- The classic story of how babies are made, with the cauliflowers, and what not.

E: I also just think-

W: How am I going to explain that to my kids?

E: If you don’t make it a taboo to start with, is it that bad? It’s just- it’s just. Oh well, that’s a whole other conversation.

W: Yes, no, definitely.

E: But straight up just telling what’s going on to your kids. I think I would prefer that to making up a story about the flowers and the bees.

W: Yes, yes.

E: Because the story about the flowers and the bees, I don’t even know how you actually- pollinating and stuff, is that what that means?

W: You do it like this, pollinating.

E: Yes, no, exactly.

W: Yes, but well, children, that’s still a long time from now.

E: Do you want kids, you think, later?

W: Yes, please.

E: Do you think you would be a good father?

W: I hope I would be a good father. Despite my parents’ divorce, I really do… I do look up to my parents. I’m proud of the way they raised me. So yeah if I would be a good father… sometimes, but maybe that’s the age, kids frustrate me. I’m a leader in the scouts for the Welpen and Welpen -great guys- but they can also be annoying and say “I’m not participating” and “that’s a stupid game, can we do something else?” and I’m like “we invest so much time in this and so much preparation, please participate” so sometimes that bothers me. But I would prefer not to have just one (child). Certainly more than one because… are you an only child?

E: No I have a little brother.

W: Yeah only child… with all due respect to people who are only children but sometimes I think… for example, I’m very happy that I have a brother. Not that it wouldn’t be fun without a brother per se, but I don’t know, the contact I have with my brother is nice.

E: The thing is, you don’t know what you’re missing so it’s hard to miss it I guess. But I do think that my brother has been a great added value to my life.

W: Yeah, yeah.

E: In the same way, I never really had grandparents. They all died before I was born and the grandfather I did have was quite old when I was actually aware that I had a grandfather. So I’ve never really had the grandparents experience that you see with family gatherings and stuff. But I don’t feel like I’ve missed anything but I still know how much other people benefit from having grandparents. Also what you just said about how often you call each other and stuff. I think that’s the same with being an only child. If you don’t have any brothers or sisters, you don’t know what it’s like to have that, what you’re missing. But if you do have it, it’s an added value I think.

W: Yes, exactly. No that’s true. My brother is very helpful to me now. I know that I can count on him.

E: Older or younger by the way?

W: Older.

E: A lot older?

W: 21.

E: 21.

W: Oh boy I had to think about how old my brother is. Embarrassing. Love you man. No but we had - maybe you had that too – but when we were younger, we really fought.

E: Physical?

W: Real fighting. Yeah, it’s has now gotten much better. I think we understand each other a lot better, but it used to be real… we had Catch WW on the Wii and we reenacted that on the couch so that was… “In the right corner Ramy Stereo” and we were bare-chested and both had one boxing glove on and fighting each other until one of us cried, bled or gave up. Usually it was me.

E: That’s just the fate of the little brother.

W: I always went… I’ve never admitted that actually, [whispers] it’s a confession. I’ve never admitted it, but afterwards I always went to my parents and cried “Kwinten hurt me”.

E: That’s really… that’s the moment, you feel it coming and you think “ah fuck no, if I hit again it’s probably over but I want to…” [cross-talk] “no no no don’t tell mom! Don’t tell mom!” I think I was a pretty nice big brother. We often did shit together. We were at home playing on the couch together and Olaf bumps into a large box that was standing there and the box, bigger than Olaf back then, fell down on his hand.

W: Oh shit.

E: So Olaf broke his hand. And I thought “I made him jump over those chairs” and then you have to say “sorry sorry don’t tell them, don’t tell them!” but yeah if your hand is fucking broken, you’re not gonna stop crying because your big brother says “don’t cry”. Yeah, that are…

W: Yes, but the relationship [between Willem and his brother] has improved. Okay we still have our discussions but... I think moments like when we’ve both been to a pub or something and we come home at the same time and we’re always hungry and standing in the kitchen making sandwiches. Those are great moments. I don’t necessarily need to have emotionally heavy of deep conversations with my brother to know that he’s there and that I can have a good time with him. So I think that’s the added value of having a brother or brothers in general.

E: Do you guys also have a specific sense of humor? Or like those moments when the two of you are laughing and your parents or people around you think “what the fuck is going on?”

W: Yeah we speak some slang to each other for fun. Like “stu stu” and [my slang knowledge is very limited so I have no idea what he’s saying here lol], those kinds of things. Typical slang from Brussels and Leuven. It’s funny because my parents are always like “why are you talking to each other like that?” and recently, I was leaving and my mom said “stu stu!” so they are adopting those words and then my brother and I can’t stop laughing.

E: Also if your mom suddenly says “are we going to chill later?” and I’m like [laughing] “what? Mom!”

W: “Okay??”

E: It’s kind of cute. Yeah it’s fun. And what are… I almost want to go deep like…

W: That’s okay.

E: Is there a particular interaction or experience you’ve had with your brother that sums up your relationship right now? Or are those the moments when you’re laughing and eating at night? It doesn’t have to be a super deep or emotional moment.

W: I think it’s an accumulation of those moments and emotional moments too. For example, after it was over with my ex. I was really down back then, it hit me pretty hard. Those are the moments when I can walk into my brother’s room in the middle of the night and he’s there for me. I know that dude is always going to be there when something’s wrong, no matter how much we argue or how much we shit at each other. I just know, and I hope he does too, that I can call him 24/7, walk into his room 24/7 and he will be there or ready to listen. I think that’s just something… the fact that we know that about each other, that creates that bond. And the thing is, if only he would do his best and go to work, earn real money… because we went on holiday together and he still hasn’t… he still has some work to do but we’ve already planned something. I’m really looking forward to it. We’re planning to go surfing in Portugal together. Those are moments I just know I can go somewhere with him and have the time of my life without-

E: …That you can remember for the rest of your life what you did together.

W: Yeah, absolutely. Those moments that I want to cherish or want to keep or experience.

E: My little brother is also just the most annoying dude on this planet who I love the most.

W: Exactly that combination. Annoying, but you love them.

E: Of course. The cameras are back on. That means we’ve been at it for over 50 minutes.

W: 50 minutes? It feels like we’re chatting for 20 minutes.

E: Exactly.

W: Pleasant.

E: That’s good. If it’s pleasant and the stress is gone.

W: Do you actually like me? “No I hate you. We’re going to finish. It has been good.”

55:29

E: No we’re not going to finish yet, but before we do, is there anything you’d like to send out into the world before we finish? On average there are 10 to 50 people watching. Is there anything you want to say to them?

W: To the 10 to 50 people?

E: Yes.

W: 10 to 50 people, you are awesome. No, what I’m saying… maybe a little deep but it doesn’t matter. Very often in your life you are going to encounter that you run into a wall, that you’re going to have setbacks, that you think “I don’t want to anymore, I can’t to this anymore, life is all one big shit show” but I think that there is a certain… at least I believe that – everyone has their own opinion of course- that a certain path has been mapped out for everyone. Not necessarily that things are set in stone but there is a road that you are going to take and that road is going to have curves, is going to have hills, is going to have valleys, is going to have everything. Maybe it’s a gravel path, maybe rocks you stumble over but -it sounds a bit stupid- put on your best walking shoes and just walk that path the best way you can. Just try to live life with complete joy and euphoria because you’re 100% worth it. No matter what other people say or think about your ideology or style or way of life. Everyone is entitled to it or should be given the opportunity to be appreciated for who they are. I think that’s something we do too little in this society, but yeah.

E: Just don’t be too hard on yourself in the end?

W: Yeah, don’t be too hard on yourself. A lot of people blame themselves too much. Or “oh I’m like that and I don’t fit in because of that” or something. Then I think: so be it.

E: Do you sometimes feel that you should do more or have achieved more at this age? Of course you’re already doing a lot of cool shit but social media, I know there is a highlight reel of all people’s achievements and that sometimes it’s very difficult to filter between what is real and how much is that person actually sitting on the couch doing nothing. Do you sometimes feel that because of social media of because of your environment or I don’t know, that you’re not doing enough?

W: Gosh, sometimes I think my life is too full.

E: Too full?

W: Not that I’m saying “oh I have so many things to do” but I’m like... I’m letting that grow organically or so.

E: Not putting too much pressure on yourself?

W: Not putting too much pressure on yourself. I’m doing a course now that I’d like to finish because I’ve had those two projects and there are friends of mine who say “why are you still studying? You’ve had your opportunity, you’re going to get new opportunities right?” and I say “hey! I’m also only 19”. Sometimes I think “fuck Willem you should have achieved more already” but I also think I’m only 19. There was a conversation at school… I really think that’s one of the added values of the course. We receive an observation report twice a year, 5 pages where the teacher writes about you and how they see you, what they think about you, what your qualities are, what you still need to work on. It’s always spot on. So strange how they can just see right through you, even though I sometimes try to hide it. Yeah, where was I going with this… we had subsequent conversation about it and I said to my teacher “sometimes I feel like I’m too young for this course” that I have too little life experience. There are people in my class who are in their 20s or older, who have already studied something else before this, have read a lot more, seen a lot more than me, a lot more experience and I think “fuck, I don’t have anything”. People talk about certain topics and I don’t follow at all. I mentioned that I felt too young and she [the teacher] said “you’re young, but that also has its advantages. Your youthfulness can actually be an interesting tool in this course and look at it from a different perspective”. So I’m convinced: don’t be too hard on yourself, don’t think “whew, I’m already 20 and I haven’t achieved anything yet” so to speak. I even saw a video recently where… “if you don’t make it in your 20s, you might make it in your 30s and if you don’t make it in your 30s, you might make it in your 40s”. There are so many… there really are a lot of people… people often forget that there are people who only find out what they want to do or discover their passion later in life.

E: And also just… I think it’s so ridiculous that you set certain goals for a certain age or something. That it’s so expected that by 18 you must have completed high school and by 25 you must have had your first job interview, by 28/30 you must have a house and a serious relationship where you’re committed to for the rest of your life and by 40 you must have already had a promotion, that you can provide for yourself and fix your pension. All those fucking predetermined milestones. I think that’s kind of bullshit, you know?

W: Absolutely.

E: If that were the case, then I should graduate in a few years so to speak while I’m clearly not studying here because I have – fuck normally I have a re-exam today. And here we are.

W: Here we are.

E: I knew I was doing this but I mean that’s just… there’s so much time. I’m 22 now and I’m doing some shit, if I go nuts now or people don’t want to listen to this podcast anymore, don’t want to see what I do online, okay then I have to look elsewhere. But I did this and I went for it and I tried. I’m 22. Even if I go nuts now and it’s all gone, I’m only 22. There are still so many ways it could go. A lot of people don’t have a job at 22. If I started looking for a new job or something now, hopefully I’ll have one by 25. Then it’s still okay because I’m only 25. I don’t know, I always find that… I could go on for a long time about this. I think those predetermined milestones/goals of things that you must have achieved by a certain age, I just think it’s bullshit.

W: I sometimes make the comparison that people too often see life as the sports world. Football players who are good until 35 and then they are done. As if you must have already performed before that age. That’s not how it works. You really have all the time and you really don’t have to stress. I also notice that many people… you mentioned re-exams. That people say “fuck I have re-exams, oh no I’m not going to pass, oh no you have extra…” chill. You do your best, but suppose you have to repeat a year, that’s not a disaster either, is it?

E: What I also think is crazy is how many people have studied law and you eventually hear that they ended up in a marketing agency because they found it much more interesting. When I talk to some people who… I was seeing a social media manager recently [laughs] “seeing”, I was talking to him.

W: “seeing” okay [laughs].

E: I was talking to him.

W: [joking] Ender has something to say.

E: And I asked “what did you study?” and he said biochemistry. “How the fuck did you end up here?” Him: “uh yeah that just wasn’t the right fit for me. I have a master’s degree but I started working here because I found it much more interesting”. I thought: why am I pretending that the degree I’m trying to get is going to determine the rest of my life, you know?

W: Absolutely.

E: If there are so many people now… because he was only 28 or something. So I thought “aah okay so you’ve been studying biochemistry for so many years and now you’re here – I don’t know if I’m talking about the correct position – but now you’re just sitting here making content. Cool. But why do I attach so much importance to that one direction I’m studying right now that doesn’t even have anything to do with media or anything. I mean I’m very interested in media, I’m studying economics. Which is also interesting, but that’s not what I see myself doing in the coming years.

W: Yeah, yeah.

E: Anyway enough about me. Do you think you could win in a fight against a cow?

W: [laughs] I really like that. You can switch to totally different shit like that. Like before you suddenly asked what color fish do you want to be. Okay. That’s nice. Win… I’ve heard if you knock over a cow it dies. That it has a heart attack then. We don’t want to kill cows okay!

E: And purely hypothetical, you’re just standing in a kind of meadow so it’s not super big so you can’t go in all directions. There is a limited domain. You come face to face with that cow and you have to begin. No weapons. You’re standing there and the cow stands there and you both know you’re going to fight.

W: It knows that too?

E: It knows that too.

W: [makes mooing noises] okay ca va.

E: It’s not a bull but it does have horns so in fact it would-

W: I would shit my pants. I’d give up already. I would lie on the ground, come on. Really crazy, I saw Jackass recently. Those guys, that Wee Man, who was in that link with the bull and he’s being catapulted, so to speak.

E: I don’t understand how those guys aren’t all dead yet.

W: Yeah they are really crazy.

E: There was also a rumor that Wee Man died from a bowling ball during… but apparently that wasn’t true.

W: I don’t know.

E: Fucked up shit. Would you win against a cow?

W: Would I win against a cow? No, I wouldn’t win against a cow. I don’t think I would win against a cow.

E: I think I would. I think just like with a bull I would try to jump out of the way like that and once you’re on the side it’s just a matter of pushing. If what you said is true, it’s game over when it’s down and you know, that’s your tactic.

W: But the thing is, a cow is heavy, isn’t it?

E: True.

W: You can’t just push it over like that, can you?

E: Sure, but it’s a matter of life or death, isn’t it? The adrenaline rush. You have to image, a cow just comes running towards you. The adrenaline that goes through your body. You shouldn’t underestimate the power you have then.

W: Just find the best patch of grass and when it’s there, sneaky knife in the back. No, now people are going to think I’m that kind of person.

E: That you’re just a snake.

W: Snake. Definitely and I admit it. No, that would be fucked up.

E: I’m going to do one more thing that’s important. I’m going to find a Twitter shout out and in the meantime, I already asked you what your message is to the world and that was a beautiful message. Got something more banal that you’d like to share? Something that you want to share from your social media or something?

W: What do you mean from social media?

E: Where they can follow you. You can say something if you have a really good video that you want to share. “Check me everywhere”.

W: No I don’t have… people should do what they feel like doing. Do you think I’m cool, do you think I’m fun, follow me on Insta. No really doesn’t matter. Doesn’t really matter.

E: Alright, I’m just going to scroll and you say stop. I’ll go back and forth and you have to say “yes that’s the one who gets to have this week’s shout out”.

W: Exciting huh. Stop.

E: [reads twitter account] M. Verschuren.

W: M. Verscheure.

E: Is that…

W: [reads quote] “If you were never sad, you wouldn’t know you could be happy”.

E: Wow. Damn bro.

W: I’m going to edit my quote.

E: “If you were never sad, you wouldn’t know you could be happy”. Wow. If you didn’t have shitty days, you wouldn’t know what the best days of your life were.

W: Exactly. But what if you get stuck in your shitty days for the rest of your life?

E: That won’t happen. That’s my biggest fear.

W: Me too.

E: Looking back at your life and thinking-

W: …Fuck I’ve never been there again.

E: …That’s where I peeked. Hope that doesn’t happen. Anyway M. Verscheure thank you very much for listening, I really appreciate it. You as well, I think?

W: Absolutely, absolutely. How much were you going to pay me?

E: 50 euro.

W: Then I’ll come… awesome. Super cool.

E: Thank you so much to everyone who listened. I appreciate it. If you want to hear more you can always subscribe to this channel. It’s also good for my ego. I’ll just put your Instagram link in the description, for people who are interested. Okay, that was it.

W: Thanks, it was fun.

E: There’s an audio only episode on Spotify every Sunday and the video comes out on Monday. That’s it. See you next Monday. Or Sunday. Peace.

#wtfock #willem de schryver

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obeiii-mee · 3 years

Note

Could I request the brothers (and maybe Diavolo, if you're comfortable) reacting to a knightly/chivalrous m/c, please?

———————————————————

I haven’t written Diavolo in a hot minute, I’m glad he’s being requested again. I’m guessing you mean an MC with the attributes of a knight? The same sort of mannerisms and traits and not an actual knight! MC? Lemme know if I did this ask wrong because I was low key confused lmao.

———————————————————

The Brothers + Diavolo with a knightly/chivalrous MC:

Lucifer:

-He really didn’t like you upon first meeting

-He hated how he couldn’t intimidate you into not being a nuisance the way he could with most of his brothers

-But, to be honest, you had gained his respect rather early on

-I think, even though it may have annoyed him to no end, Lucifer was very fond of your bravery a lot of the times

-The way you would stand up for Mammon or that time you protected Beel and Luke from his outburst

-Courage is not a trait one would usually associate with humans, especially when more superior beings like demons are involved

-Your humility was also a characteristic of yours that he, surprisingly, was really fond of

-And your overall mercifulness was something to be congratulated as well

-I mean, him and his brothers put you through so much shit and for you to forgive and move on without an angry word at any of them kinda speaks on its own

-I think he understands, to an extent, the reason you’re so loyal to the people you care about too

-He has a certain devotion for Lord Diavolo and his brothers, more than he lets on

-To him, having someone like you around is something to be appreciated

-Because you are similar but also completely different and nothing like he deemed you to be at the beginning

-yo i think you remind him of himself back when he was angel tbh

-He’s sort of tired of saving your ass tho because you are very just, so you feel the need to help people all the time which leads to you getting involved in fights

-Bring him his 20th cup of coffee for the day please, it’s hard being a single father of 8 children (yes I’ve added Lord Diavolo he counts as one of the kids)

-He’s the definition of this incorrect quote I stumbled across a while back

- MC: “FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW!”

-Lucifer, from behind them “ Do not.”

Mammon:

-Ok so this random human comes to DevilDom and has the audacity to slap his hand away while he’s trying to steal from Diavolo’s castle????????

-“MC ya’re forgetting I’m a demon, my moral scale is wayyy different than yours-“

-“Put it back.”

-“......ok.”

-You’re coming at him with rightfulness and honor and your presence is gonna hit him like a truck

-Cuz he ain’t stealing anything when you’re around (lucifer uses this to his advantage ofc.)

-That was basically the only thing he disliked about you

-Other than that, after your first week in DevilDom, he thinks you’re a goddamn S A I N T

-Everytime you stand up for him when his brothers are being assholes-pls he melts into a puddle of goo from your perfection

-OOFFS AND ALL THOSE TIMES YOU GAVE HIM GIFTS BECAUSE GENEROSITY BBY

-Good thing he was wearing sunglasses, because holy fuck was he weeping under those Gucci shades

-He’s gonna give ya props for having the courage to stand up to him and his brothers

-Lucifer especially because big bro scary

-Think about it like this: literally every single one of them could have you seasoned and roasted for lunch, love

-And yet you still have the bravery to look them in the eye and tell them: “Ya’ll are dysfunctional as fuck and need family therapy.”

-Again, he doesn’t understand your morale, he’s the Avatar of Greed, if he sees something he likes or seems worthy of his presence, he takes it

-But with that look you’re giving him, he honestly feels so guilty he can’t help but put it back

-He also appreciates your patience with him when it comes to anything that involves him talking about his emotions and thought process

-Because at this point he is widely known as scum so-

-Ahhhh, in the end, he thinks you’re pretty badass for a human and would low key want to see you in an armour of sorts agajwhisebhwjwwhehgdhdh

-And he really likes it when you make the effort to open doors for him too but he’ll never have the nerve to admit it

Levi:

-Believe it or not, he warms up to you in less than a day...?

-It’s probably because he’s a navy commander and he’s used to having soldiers around and you sort of remind him of that

-Out of everyone, he reacts the least when he sees how you carry yourself because to him it’s second nature

-Even if he does tend to slouch most of the time

-Almost dropped to his knees and started worshiping you when you yelled at Mammon to give Levi his money back on your first day

-And then a friendship started to blossom (im not friendzoning y’all, relax)

-Levi has a tendency to just walk into your room with his laptop, point at the screen which is paused in the middle of an anime and go “Look, the protagonist is a knight. You’re also...really knightly. I like the protagonist. I, uh I like you too, I guess.”

-He loves how honest you are because he knows that no matter what you wouldn’t lie to him

-“MC, do you think I’m a yucky otaku?”

-“No.”

-“But-“

-“No.”

-“Oh ok.”

-But on the inside he’s like 🥰🥰💞💞💞💞

-I just think that a knightly MC would connect on an emotional level with Levi for a lot of reasons, idk

-He’s gonna be a sputtering mess when he realises how much effort you put into this relationship (platonic or romantic) and how loyal you are to it

-Like how you actually bother learning all of his stupid passwords because you are just as serious about them as he is

-He just crashed, give him a moment to reboot please

Satan:

-He takes a while to warm up to you because for some reason your overall demeanour reminded him of Lucifer lol

-He thought you might be just as stuck up as him

-It didn’t take him longer than a week or so to come to the sudden realisation that you are way more pleasant than his brother

-Like his daddy, you manage to earn his respect pretty quickly after that

-He just thought the way you handled everything that was thrown at you in DevilDom was very sophisticated but firm nonetheless, if that makes sense?

-Like, you weren’t itching to escalate fights or anything but your tone of voice could easily end a whole conversation if need be

-You were still a human of course, it would be real easy for some low rank demon to kidnap you or something

-But for some reason, your confidence seemed to intimidate a few of the weaker ones into leaving you alone

-Obviously, that didn’t mean you were completely safe or anything

-There were still others that could effortlessly overpower you

-Even so, Satan found it sort of reassuring that unlike some humans, you weren’t one to back down without a confrontation

-Don’t get me started on all those times you rebelled against Lucifer, because that’s what truly got him to get to know you better

-He found you pretty interesting and then that interest sort of evolved into actual fondness

-Another thing that caught his eye was that even though you have very strong feelings about justice and fairness, you are completely level headed most of the time

-And patience, while it’s something he can manage, is the one that he has been trying to control for centuries

-He learned a lot from you about behaviour, whether you intentionally taught it to him or not

-And if there is one thing Satan thinks highly of; it would be knowledge

-Therefore, from that point onward, your existence was so much more precious to him than your soul could ever be

Asmo:

-What can I say about our sweet Asmo?

-You could have the personality of a trashcan and he’d still love you

-You were so polite and honourable from the beginning to the point you managed to get the attention of the Avata of Lust himself????

-He thought you were pretty hot basically

-hoWEVER

-Your righteousness always sort of nagged him because he low-key believed Diavolo snuck in another angel into the program, I-

-And for some reason, your loyalty to everyone in general ticked him off immensely at the beginning

-Mainly because he recognised that’s one of the traits he lacks entirely and he came to the conclusion that he needs to revaluate himself on that one

-He is so desperate for your attention, he will tattle on his brothers just to get you to yell at them and then comfort him

-“MCCCCC, MAMMON STOLE MY NEWEST MAKE UP KIT AND IS ABOUT TO SELL IT ON AKUZON!”

-he is so petty istg

-Your nobility still catches him off guard every now and then

-Because you’ve been living with demons for so long and yet you’re still, theoretically speaking, pure?? get your head out of the gutter people

-He probably applauds you on the fact that you can even scare Lucifer on some occasions because imagine having a scarier death glare than the eldest prince of hell

-Asmo will personally buy you clothes that he thinks suit your “aesthetic” (wtf Asmo)

-Might’ve bought you a sword and then got shouted at by Lucifer because oops turns out it was cursed

-Again, supportive mom vibes

-“MC, do you know how stunning you look strutting around with that confidence of yours? Don’t get me started on your posTURE!”

-You pulled a chair for him once and he practically swooned lmao

Beel:

-He figures you’re really nice from the start

-Mostly because you kept running errands and opening doors for him even though he let it slip that he might lose control and eat you

-Like most brothers, he finds you comforting in a way

-Beel appreciates your honesty to him too because he can count on you to tell him when he’s doing something wrong

-And he sort of needs the validation that even though he blames himself for a lot of things that took place in the past, his brothers and you are more than ready to forgive him (even if they didn’t blame him to begin with)

-Rather than respect, Beel puts a lot of trust into you, which I would believe to be more intimate

-If it’s just the two of you hanging out, he has an easier time opening up about Lilith because he knows you would never judge him and respect his feelings enough to let him get it out of his system

-You always share your food with him and give him a bigger portion and he goes so soft-

-Like who allowed you to be this generous?

-Tbh, he thinks it’s sort of refreshing having someone like you around

-Beel has been surrounded by demons for millenniums now and he’s gotten used to their...uh ‘evilness’

-Ever since you got dropped off in DevilDom, you really stood out with your nobility and morals

-It was like a breath of fresh air in a way

-He may or may not believe you’re a good influence on his siblings-if you can even influence demons of all things

-I’m not saying he invites you to work out with him and give him honest criticism, but he definitely invites you to work out with him and give him honest criticism

Belphie:

-“Out of all the humans they could’ve chosen, they picked the most annoying one, oH MY FUCKING GO-I MEAN DAD-“

-You go up to the attic that one night after tricking Lucifer into vibing to some classical TSL tunes

-He spotted you and was immediately irritated

-Like, he KNEW you were going to be a pain in the ass just by judging your posture and how you carried yourself (very knightly)

-At the start, he’s even hesitant to lie to you because he had a suspicion you wouldn’t buy his bs

-(Spoiler alert: you didn’t but you went with it either way)

-It takes a while for you to forgive him when he literally fucking kills you because that was rude af but you got over it in time

-AFTER of the whole ‘Sorry-for-choking-you-can-we-be-friends-now’ incident, you still get on his nerves a lot but at this point, he believes that’s his punishment for being a murderous dickhead

-You don’t really piss him off tho, you just confuse him a lot

-Why are you so polite? You keep pulling chairs and opening doors for him??? Why are you treating him like royalty?? Stop it, he doesn’t want to be like Lord Diavolo (he def likes it when you do that)

-Pls stop dragging the poor man to breakfast, he just wants to sleep in-

-He doesn’t understand how you’re always one time for everything

-My dude tries to wake up 20 minutes early to get somewhere in time and he is still 2 hours late

-sTOP TRYING TO FORCE YOUR IDEALS ONTO HIM, HE’S A LITTLE SHIT WHO ENJOYS WATCHING PEOPLE SUFFER

-All the same, you’re a very forgiving person so he’s just grateful you don’t hate him or anything

-And in the end, it doesn’t really matter how much your chivalry and righteousness and all of that pisses him off every now and then

-Because he can’t deny the fact that you brought him and his brothers the peace they needed

-And he so loves it when you and Lucifer go head to head mhmm

Diavolo:

-This big tittied man right here takes a liking to you immediately

-A couple of days in DevilDom and he’s already inviting you for tea at his castle

-You managed to befriend the prince of hell faster than the demons you live with, huh

-He’s lonely ok? He loves having people over and having cozy chitchats

-Not to mention he thinks you’re such pleasant company!

-Most demons would be afraid to even say anything in his presence but you always speak your mind while continuing to be respectful and he’s so happy, you don’t understand-

-Only demons in close relations to Diavolo like Babrbatos and Lucifer actually know how much it takes for someone to anger him

-He doesn’t take offence to much lol

-And he’s really content that you acknowledged that

-He sometimes visits you in his spare time just to talk and hang out since Lucifer is a big meanie who doesn’t want to indulge him and Barbatos is busy making him dinner >:(

-SPEAKING OF- if you and Barbatos don’t bond then i don’t know what to tell you

-I mean, you would both have so many things in common (strong sense of loyalty, honesty, just in a way etc.)

-You’re his favourite guest to have over at the palace, sorry Luci you’ve been replaced

-He genuinely finds you interesting as well so please tell him stories from the human realm!! He’s dying to learn more!

-Diavolo notices you demeanour sort of gives off warrior vibes so-

-He really considered making you into a knight bc it’s Diavolo-what he says; goes

-“I know they’re human but they’ll be fine. Look how tough they are! They managed to survive a year with you and your brothers didn’t they?”

-“My Lord, that doesn’t amount to anything, please don’t get our human killed-“

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #🕯 general #☂️ demon brothers #👑 Diavolo supremacy #⭐️ requests

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jonnnysuh · 3 years

Text

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad. Fall was fast approaching, without much warning. The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day. Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room. Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless.

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at. You blinked slowly at the brown haired man. “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him? you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.” Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin. Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky. You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid. Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class they already had their groups.” you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew.

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.

145 notes · View notes

the-broken-truth · 3 years

Note

Can you do yandere bully damian wayne with fem reader how is a 🐺🔥🥋 🛡 🏹 🏠 she is like demon Hunter in Gotham and sometimes batman call for her help with joker/villains and goes to Gotham academy

They Heated each other guts and she tolerated him for her best friend Jonathan Kent

Damian was dating raven how was using him as cashcow

one day in park damian get drugged and kidnapped and reader saw all the and follow there car to save him after killing his kidnappers and heal him she comfront him and tell him everything is going to be alright and give him her jacket (which he will keep it for eternity) she dropped him to his house after buying him something to eat when damian get to his father house he sees the no-one care of what happened to him they saw the he got kidnapped and they didn't care at all but reader did and the how the obsession began

*STATIC*: An Obsessive Love Born From Loathing Hate? A Golddigger, as well? Quite an interesting request we have here, Broken.

Broken Truth: That we do, so let's see what words weave together from this.

Quick Note: The name of the reader shall be Kacela - The name means 'Huntress' and is of African Origin. Just like Damien, she is a rich kid but not because her parents are rich - her human parents abandoned her and she started her own business; it's well-known but not on the same level as Wayne Enterprises.

Broken: SORRY IT'S LATE! I'VE BEEN BUSY!

- THE RUNED HUNTRESS -

[On Top Of Gotham's Rooftops - Across from a besieged Research Facility]

[The Joker was at it again but this time he wasn't working alone - he enlisted the aid of Clayface, Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, Riddler, and Penguin to take hold of a Research Lab that contained something each member of the crime group wanted; how Joker knew this and managed to use to persuade the villains into working with him is something The Dark Knight couldn't quite figure out. What he did know was that he was going to need some help.]

[At the moment, Damien (Robin)., Dick (Nightwing), and Barbara (Batgirl) were the ones of the Bat-Family that were with him at the moment but the 4 of them weren't going to be enough and - as much as he hated it - he needed aid from a power beyond what his gadgets and training could do.]

Damien (Walks over to Batman, who is standing on the edge looking at the facility): Father, why are we still waiting while those criminals are making a mess of the place?

Bruce: Because we're waiting for someone.

Damien: Who? We have enough people, we can take them.

Bruce: Don't be foolish, Damien. It's the four of us up against seven of Gotham's Worst, plus they have hostages and have access to unknown tech or substances that could put us at a disadvantage. The person I called has abilities unlike our own and can help us a great deal.

[Damien opened his mouth to protest when a smell hit his nose - it smelled like something was burning.]

Dick (Sniff-Sniff): Does anyone else smell something burning.

Barbara: It smells like brimstone.

Bruce: She's here.

[Nightwing opened his mouth to question who 'she' was when a burst of red light from a ball of fire came shooting upward from the edge of the building before falling and landing in the clear space. The ground was scorched from the fire impact and cinders flowed around the air and lined along with the black marks up everyone looked at the person - or creature - that caused it.]

[The creature was large and muscular the body of a wild canine - a wolf - but it stood on 2 legs; except, wolves didn't have 2 horns on their foreheads. The forearms of the beast were scarred with runes that were glowing red against the black fur. The creature began to stand on 2 legs - its height towered over Bruce - and opened its eyes to reveal eyes made from hellfire. The humanoid wolf opened its jaws - letting the hot smoke out - as it began to speak to the Head of the Bat-Family.]

Wolf Creature: Dark One (What she calls Bruce), I'm answering your persistent summons. Why have you decided to bother me this time?

Barbara: Summons? (Looks at Bruce) Bruce, what is that thing?

Wolf Creature (Glares at Barbara): I am not a 'Thing', I am a Wolf Demon while you are the daughter of a cop - playing dress up just to spite him and stick your pointed head where it doesn't belong.

Barbara (Points at the Wolf Creature): Hey, don't call me a...

Bruce (Raises his hand): That's enough. (Looks at the Wolf Creature) Runed Huntress, I know you told me that you're not interested in helping me but this is important. Those criminals have many innocent people captured and are trying to access some very dangerous information and products. Our gadgets can only get us so far but your power is limitless. We need your help.

Runed Huntress (Snorts - making smoke shoot out her nose and blow in Bruce's face): Very well, I shall aid you once again but - as I said before - do not make a habit out of this; you are this city's protector, not me.

Bruce (Nods): Noted. (Turns back to the building) Now, let's get a move on.

[The Bat-Family & The Runed Huntress leaped across the building rooftops until they reached the last roof that sat at the edge of the street that separated the distance of the buildings and the facility. The Bat-Family watches as the large humanoid wolf clapped her hands together and slowly brought them apart - bring a bow that looked as if it was forged from hellfire itself. The Runed Huntress took the bow in hand and did the motion of drawing back an arrow - Damian's eyes widen as an arrow materialized in her clawed hand before she releases it. It goes soar across the street and crashes into the glass dome but doesn't shatter it - it melts it away and forms a large hole, big enough for the rescue party to get inside.]

[The villains looked upon the hole of melted glass as the Bat-Family glided in and stood before the corrupted 7. The Ringleader - The Madman known as Joker - began to chuckle and clap his hands.]

Joker (Clapping): Bats! I knew you would be here! A little late to the party, don't you think?!

Bruce (Glares at Joker): I don't have time to deal with your demented mind, Joker. Release the hostages and turns yourselves in or we can do this the hard way.

Joker (Pouts and shakes his head): Oh, Batsy... Always the party pooper; no cake for you. But in case you have noticed, I outnumber you so...I don't think you can win.

[Just then - the monstrous roaring howl of the Runed Huntress echoed in the hall as she leaped through the giant hole and landed on all fours between Joker and Bruce. She glared at the villains as her jaws opened as lava leaked from the cracks of her fangs, making 2 pools on the tile floor that began to rise and form into 2 clones of herself.]

Runed Huntress (Rising to her feet as the lava clones did the same): Now...it's an even playing field.

[When Killer Croc let loose a hiss, Runed Huntress barked back at him and the two of them charged at each other - fighting as beasts knew how to. Bruce dealt with Joker, Barbara took on Harley Quinn, Dick took care of Riddler, Damian attacked Penguin, while the other two clones took on Clayface and Poison Ivy.]

[The fight ended with the villains in cuffs and loaded into Transportation Trucks, Barbara found the scientists locked in the safe - all accounted for and unharmed, but mentally scarred - Bruce was talking to Gordon while his family looked on. Damian looked off to the side and watched the large wolf walking away and ran after her as she turned into an alleyway.]

Damian: Hey, where are you going?

Runed Huntress (Looks over her large shoulder at the Wayne Family Heir): What do you want, boy? I have aided your leader, that doesn't mean I need to stay around for his talks with the Commissioner.

Damian: Just what the hell is your problem?

Runed Huntress: My 'problems' are none of your concern, Rich Boy.

[Damian opened his mouth to speak but the large beast was engulfed by a flammed vortex that erupted from the ground around her feet and covered her until it exploded into cinders - leaving Damian alone in the alley, looking at the charred circle in the ground.]

- RAVENS LIKE THINGS THAT SPARKLE -

[The Next Day: Gotham High School - Courtyard]

"I gotta go to the library to do some last-minute reading before class starts but before I forget, can I get some cash, Bae?" The Indigo-Eyed Girl asked as she looked upon the Wayne Heir.

"More? I gave you $700 just last week." Damien said as she looked at his girlfriend.

"I know but there's a sell on some rare spell tomes and I didn't want to risk someone else getting their hands on them. o, can you give me some cash?" Raven asked with a tilt of her head like a cat; making the heir exhale.

"Okay, I send another $800." Damien exhaled, earning a kiss on his cheek from the girl how had his heart before she turned and began to walk away.

"Hey, Damien!" Damien turned to see his friend Jonathan Kent walking up to him, but he wasn't alone.

Beside Jonathan was a dark-skinned female around the same height as him with golden eyes in a constant glare, She had short black hair in an undercut - only on her right side. She was wearing the Gotham High School uniform but the man one - she wasn't in comfortable skirts and she had the money to allow this. On her wrists there 2 golden bracelets - long ones that start at her wrists and end further up her forearms - that had some kind of writing on them that Damien didn't care to translate. Why didn't he care? Because he didn't like her.

"Hey." Damien said as he looked in the direction of his friend and...tolerant.

"You good, Bro? You seemed stressed out." Jonathan said with concern in his blue eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine - Father was telling us that there is some large event tonight and he wants all of us there; no questions asked." Damien said.

"Large event? What's that?" Jonathan asked.

"He talking about Gotham's Angel Award - it's when all of Gotham's CEOs and Walking Wallets gather in one room to see who's been recognized as the most giving and kind." Kacela said as she looked at Jonathan with her arms folded.

"Funny the stray (That's what Damien calls her began she doesn't have parents, relatives, or even a surname.) knows what it is, even though you would never step foot in that place, much less get to hold an invitation." Damien said with a smirk on his face. Imagine his shock as Kacela pulls an invitation to that event from her pocket.

"You were saying, Bird Brain?" Kacela asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Damien began to get mad and Kacela glared at him when Jonathan stepped between them.

"Whoa. Whoa. No need to fight! Just relax, guys." Jonathan said as he looked between her friends. Kacela exhaled and stepped back.

"Fine. I won't fight because Jonathan asked me to." Kacela said as she glared at Damien.

"Same here, Stray." Damien glared at her too before turning back to his phone.

"Whatcha doing, Damian?" Jonathan asked.

"Sending some cash to Raven's card." He said.

"More? Didn't you send her a lot just a few days ago?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, but there was a book sale and she didn't want to miss out on the rare tomes that were for auction." Damian explained.

"Is that the song she sang to you? For someone so brilliant...you can't even see when you are being played." Kacela said as she placed her hands in her pockets and began to walk away.

"What's that supposed to mean, Stray?"Damian glared at her.

"Just remember - Ravens are fond of things that gleam and shine but they are also creatures that sing songs of deception." Kacela said before she entered the building, leaving Damian and Jonathan standing there.

- THE RAVEN'S DECEPTION & TRAPPED IN THE LION'S DEN -

[After Highschool]

Damian wished his friend a good evening before getting on his motorcycle and driving out of the school's parking lot. He knew that the normal route he would take was going to be caked in traffic for the event tonight and decided to head the long way. He was coming up on the red light at the intersection of 4 famous restaurants/cafes sat at the 4 Corners. He was the first vehicle in line when a familiar voice was heard from the right - he looked and the eyes under his helmet widened when they landed on his girlfriend sitting at an outdoor table with shapeshifter of the Titans - Beast Boy a.k.a Garfield. They were sitting at the table, holding hands and smiling at each other - as if they were in love.

"So, what do you want to do this weekend?" Raven asked.

"I wanna go to the new exotic animal show but tickets to that places are stupidly expensive." Garfield said.

"Don't worry, babe; I got the money from that walking piggy bank, Damian." Raven said.

"You got more? I thought he gave you some a few days ago." He said.

"Yeah, I just told him I spent the money on tomes and he gave me $700 more. All I have to do is pout and he'll give me whatever I want." Raven smirked at the notion and Garfield laughed.

Damian felt so bad about what he just heard - when the car behind him hooked their horn to let him know the light was green, he floored it and began driving down the main streets before the tears in his eyes began to blind him and he stopped on the edge of the park, took his helmet off and hid his face in hands - sobbing; showing the weakness of the Al Ghul.

His heart was broken - the one he loved was using him for a wallet for the shapeshifter and he was too blind to see it. The words Kacela said before she left that day - she was warning him that Raven was disloyal to him. The one he hated was the one who warned him.

He was so caught up in his crying that he didn't see the hooded figure sneaking up behind him and smacking him off the bike with a metal pipe in the back of his head. His world got dark when he heard the words.

"We got Wayne's Brat - we're in for a huge payday, boys." the fading voice chuckled until Damian faded into nothingness of mind.

[Around 2 Hours Later]

"Wake up, pretty boy!" someone commanded as he slapped the Wayne Heir wake - he was tied to a chair in the center of an unknown warehouse with 6 Thugs surrounding him - all of them with weapons in their hands.

"What? What the hell do you want from me?" Damian demanded as he glared at the man who slapped him - only for the same man to punch him in the face; Damian could taste the blood on his tongue before he felt it flowing out of his mouth as he tried to shake the daze from his head.

"We don't want shit from you, brat; we want a payday from Wayne and I know he'll pay huge racks to get his little boy back." The leader said.

"Boss, we've been calling Wayne but he ain't answering." A good said.

"Then keep calling! The sooner we finish this, the better." The boss order. Damian hung his head down - he was done for: his father wasn't answering the phone, his love breaks his heart...just what was he to do

The answer came as the window of the warehouse came crashing inward and a familiar Lycan-Shaped Figure came crashing into the room and landed on the ground on all fours before rising to its hind legs with a very pissed off glare in its eyes - the runes on its body shining in the light.

"What the hell is that?!" One of the Goons said as he tried to get his gun - only to have his head bitten off by the creature's jaws, letting his body hit the floor.

"Kill that thing! Fucking kill it!" The Boss said as he made Damian get to his feet and used his as a human by holding his arm around his neck and hold his gun at the creature that jumped around, slaughtering his men before turning to face him.

"Don't come any closer or I'll blow his brains out!" The boss said as he held the gun against Damian's head.

The Runed Huntress looked at a long metal nail that was sitting between her feet and reached down to gather it in her large clawed hand. Damian and the boss watched as the large wolfish creature twirled the nail between her fingers before flicking it on its head and sent it flying like a bullet - hitting the boss in the center of his head, making them lose his grip on Damian and slump to the ground. The Huntress ran over to Damian before he could fall and gathered him tenderly in her large arm before using the other one to cut his ropes - even free, the boy didn't move, he was too...cold.

"Damian, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" The Runed Huntress asked him as she looked at him with concerned eyes. Damian opened his mouth to speak but he noticed the bracelets on the creature's wrists - he saw them before, he saw them every day during school.

"K...Kacela?" Damian questioned as he looked into the creature's eyes again - there was a sparkle, a smile, then a small vortex of fire that revealed the human face of the one he hated at school.

"I always told you that you were brilliant, just weren't wary of the right people."Kacela said as she took off her jacket from her shoulders and placed it over Damian's, "Wear this, you're freezing." She said.

"You... You saved me? I thought you hated me - after everything I said and did to you." Damian said as he looked into her eyes.

"I never said I hated you, Damian; I said I hated the way you acted. As for saving you, I may have a beast's soul and form but I'm not a heartless monster to just let someone get hurt; not even someone who tries to me." Kacela explained before she turned back into the Runed Huntress, gathered Damian in her arms, and rose to her feet, "Now, let's get you home; you are too cold, you might be sick." she said as she turned on her heel and leaped back through the window she came through with the Wayne Family Heir in her arms.

- THE ONE YOU HATE IS THE ONE WHO CARES THE MOST -

[Wayne Manor]

The Runed Huntress landed in front of the door to Wayne Manor, using one of her hands to knock heavily on the door - it was soon opened by the Wayne Family Butler - Alfred Pennyworth.

"Hello, Madam Huntress, is there something I can help you with?" He then noticed Damian in her arms, "Is that Master Damian? Did something happen?" He asked.

"He was attacked and held for ransom but Bruce never answered the phone and he was harmed." Runed Huntress said.

"That's understandable - Master Bruce and the others are currently getting ready for the event and have asked not to be disturbed." Alfred said, making Kacela's eyes widen in anger.

"What?" She growled out. She pushed past the butler and followed Bruce's scent up the stairs to a meeting room - she barged in and - sure enough to what Alfred said - Bruce, Dick, and Barbara were all there, dressed in elegant attire; they all looked at the large wolf who barged into the room.

"Huntress? Is there something you need?" Bruce said.

"Are you serious, Bruce? Your son is in my arms, beaten & possibly sick, are you're asking me if I need something? Why didn't you answer the calls from Damian's phone?" Kacela asked.

"As Alfred told you, we're busy getting ready for the event." Bruce said.

"He's your son, Bruce Wanye - he was attacked, held for ransom, and beaten up and all you care about is this event? He could be sick, he's as cold as a block of ice." Huntress growled.

"Well, you got to him and saved him before he was hurt too bad, but since he can't come to the event, take him to bed and we will deal with him in the morning." Bruce said as he began walking do the door, past the wolf and his sick son, with his other 2. Kacela growled at him before looking at Damian.

"Where's your room?" She asked, her eyes widened when his hand grabbed her fur and held her close.

"Please... Please, don't leave me here." Damian pleaded - begged - as he tried to hold more tears while shivering.

"There's no way in hell I'm leaving you here. I need to get you some warm clothes." She explained.

Damian told her where his room was and she when there - placing him on the bed for a moment as she gathered pajamas and a new school uniform into the bag before closing it, picking Damian back up, opened the window, and the two of them disappeared into the night.

[Kacela's Loft]

*BEEP - BEEP - BEEP*

"Yeah, just as I thought - you're sick." Kacela said as she pulled the thermometer from the boy's lips and looked at the numbers. Kacela placed it on a napkin on the nightstand that was beside the bed Damian was laying in and the chair she was sitting in. "It seems to be a simple head cold - some medicine and rest should get you and running again, not to mention a good night's rest." Kacela explained.

"How come...you didn't go to the Gotham's Angels Award?" Damian asked as he looked at her with a warm feeling on his face - it must have been the cold.

"That place is full of people who just wanna get seen, not for doing right." Kacela explained before she reached on the nightstand to her phone, "You have to eat something before taking your meds and I don't feel like cooking tonight, so I'll order something. What are you in the mood for - Pizza or Burgers?" Kacela asked.

"What? You're letting me choose?" Damian asked.

"Sure, I don't usually have guests, so why the hell not?" Kacela gave a smile...and the warm feeling returned but it was stronger this time.

When the pizza arrived, Kacela helped Damian sit up, and the two of them ate while having conversations - turned out they had a lot of things in common, from their love of books to their outside activities. Damian asked Kacela a few questions about her knowing Raven was cheating on him and why she didn't tell him directly - she explained that it wasn't her place to speak on another person's relationship, plus he made it very clear that he had a dislike for her so what reason would he have to believe her? Damian apologized for his words but Kacela said she heard worse and wasn't bothered. Just before bedtime, Kacela gave him cold and sleeping medicine so he would be alright in the morning; she stayed with him until he fell into slumber before she went to sleep herself.

When the morning sun rose - Damian woke to the smell of pancakes. Kacela made them breakfast and even made sure Damian's phone was placed on the changer. Damian got dressed in a fresh outfit and went to eat with Kacela; who informed him that she got his bike and helmet from the park after he went to sleep; he thanked her, finished his breakfast, and left out the door...with her jacket.

- NOT SO BLIND ANYMORE -

"What do you mean we're over?!" Raven yelled as she stood before Damian.

"Just as I said - I'm done with you, Raven. You're nothing but a gold-digger and a liar, and you only see me as a mess to keep that green boyfriend of yours happy. I'm not giving you anything else but a hard time if you ever show your face again." Damian glared at her, causing her to huff and march away to the school building.

"Whoa, Damian." Jonathan said as he walked over, "You really broke up with her?" He asked.

"I don't have time for gold-diggers and liars." He looked around, "Where's Kacela?" he asked.

"She called and said... Wait, did you just call her by her name? I thought she was a stray?" He said but swallowed when Damian glared at her.

"Never. Call. Her. That." Damian growled.

"Okay. Okay, man - sorry." He said.

"Now, what did she tell you?" Damian asked.

"She said she couldn't come today - there are some major investors that are interested in her company and want to make a partnership, so she won't be in today." Jonathan said.

"Really? Then, I'll speak to her later." Damian said.

"Talk about what? Wait, isn't that her jacket?" He asked.

"Yes." He said, 'But it's more than just that. It's the start of what Kacela and I shall be...together.'

#yandere damian wayne

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descendants-brat · 3 years

Text

Audrey turns back time: Audrey stops Ben from eating Mal’s cookie

Audrey’s mind flashes back to this exact moment before she met Ben at their lockers. She recalls trying to talk to Ben about Mal’s use of magic possibly causing an addiction. She chuckles as she recalls Mal’s reliance on magic and Jane’s later melt down. Nobody even tried to hear the words she was saying and look how they turned out.

As Audrey walked up to Ben she sees Mal and Jay talking as a sea of girls below the lockers blushed and batted their eyelashes at Jay. He is stunning, but he’s on Mal’s side unfortunately so that makes him the enemy. After going through the plot Audrey really couldn’t understand why the three of them followed Mal around, hell she thought Mal did things to them on the same level as what she did to her maybe even worse. It’s of little matter now their plan will never work with her knowing every single step they will take, idiots.

“Benny-boo we need to talk.” Audrey leaned up against the door of her locker while staring down at Ben. “I think this whole magic thing that Mal has going on needs to stop and you’re the only one who can do it.” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion hands in his pockets facing her “What’s the harm?” He asked chuckling. It’s certainly harm to you, you naïve fool, Audrey could deny it all she wanted, she wasn’t just protecting Ben for her own gain she still had feelings for him. Or else she would’ve found a way to expose the VKs as soon as possible but yet, she couldn’t she knew this was his dream and wanted to take the band-aid off the wound as soft as possible. She couldn’t rip it off and then rub sea salt all in the wound.

“It’s gateway magic.” She started but was cut off by Ben’s next question “What are you wearing? It’s so different you look great.” Audrey’s eyes narrowed in defense, he always just told her she was pretty before but, the words never reached his eyes. Now his eyes were sparkling like the moon surrounded with stars in a pitch black sky. “Of course you do,” Audrey snarled angrily “Because I just looked so boring before, didn’t I?” “What are you talking about?” Ben asked concerned “You’ve always been beautiful Audrey even when you tried to hide it by wearing those frilly dresses your Grammy always picked out. I never cared about the clothes I was looking at you.” Audrey was taken aback by the sincerity in Ben’s eyes and voice.

“Anyways, it’s gateway magic you brought them to Auradon because you wanted them to give them their chance to live here like us. If she’s too reliant on her spellbook to even do something as simple as make friends she won’t be able to live without it besides, it’s unfair to the other kids.” Audrey turned the conversation back to Mal

“How is it unfair to the other kids?” Ben asked shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his pants. “Who else is using magic in Auradon? Fairy godmother someone who’s been trusted with it. Why is it fair that Mal could use an, I don’t know speed reading spell while everybody has to take the time to study? Didn’t think you’d be that kind of king.” Audrey laughed airily

“What kind of King?” Ben let the frown set deeper on his face, it was a touchy subject for him. He was taking the throne so young yet nobody actually respected him or his ideas as King.

“That in your quest to make the VKs feel welcome that you’d give them special rules over your own people.” Audrey leaned her back against the locker casually looking up at Ben. “Thought you wanted to merge us together not push us further apart.”

“The Vks are my people and of course I care about the citizens of Auradon it’s just...”Ben looked down in confusion. He knew Audrey's words made sense it was hurtful not only to the other kids that Mal used magic but also to herself, she wasn’t relying on her own strength to survive here. “You’re right I’ll talk to her about it.” He decided, he didn’t know exactly how much magic she was even using, he just knows she was selling hair spells to the other girls he didn’t see a problem with it.

“Great, you can talk to her now before the game. I’ll see you afterwards.” She cheered quickly pecking Ben on the cheek and turning to walk away. As soon as her back was turned to him her eyes turned Icey. Now we can start the sooner this is over with the better. Audrey walked away about twelve feet before hiding behind another set of lockers. She saw Ben walk over to Mal after she called him over. Jay stood not too far away as she watched Mal laugh and offer Ben a cookie. She then slowly began to make her way back over to the two of them and as soon as she saw Ben take the cookie she jumped and snatched it out of his hands.

“Oh cookies, Double chocolate chip my favorite!” Audrey squealed as she chanted a spell in her head “She’s caused enough pain to make a man cry take this spell and run it dry.” After she was sure the spell was gone she lifted it up to her lips while looking Mal right in the eyes and took a bite of the cookie.

“mmm, delicious. You try some Benny-boo.” She handed Ben the cookie as he chuckled and took the cookie eating the rest himself. “Yummy right?” She used a high pitched voice taking his arm. “Yes it’s very yummy, thank you Mal.” He replied placing his other hand lovingly on top of Audrey’s while looking towards Mal. “Yes thank you Mal it was very nice of you.” Audrey added. Mal stood shocked and confused it didn’t look like the spell had worked How! and why the fuck did Audrey come back?

Jay walked over confused himself that they both ate the cookie “How do you feel bro?” He asked Ben behind Mal. Ben looked at him confused “Uh I feel fine thanks for asking.” He laughed confused. Audrey gripped Ben’s arm tighter and began pulling him away from danger. “Oh my goodness look at the time we’re going to be late let’s go together now. Thank you again for cookie Mal see you at the game.” Audrey spoke turning around with Ben’s arm in her hand. Ben gets the hint and walks away with Audrey after expressing another round of gratitude towards Mal himself. As they ventured further towards the locker rooms he smiled down at Audrey happy she was making an effort with the vks.

Ughhh I really wish I could write this all I love this AU just a little draft scenario

#Audrey Rose #princess audrey #baudrey #audrey descendants #ben and audrey #audrey deserves better #ben florian #ben descendants #jay descendants #disney descendants #descendants

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queenmuzz · 3 years

Text

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

#Devil May Cry #Nelo Dadgelo #Dante #Vergil #Nero #canon divergence #I didn't want to connect this to their post via reblog #because that should stand alone in its own perfection #my writing

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

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Hi! Can I request a Jean x Reader fic where reader is Marco's beloved little sister and basically follows the "Im in love with my brother's best friend" trope? And Reader doesn't do anything about it because she thinks Jean only sees her as a little sister (bc that's what he always says) but Jean is madly in love with her too? And hw never says anything until she does something really reckless. (Any Au is okay :) )

omg yes yes!! of course! i hope you like it! 💖 sorry for the waiting, anon!

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

❁ jean x reader!

❁ modern au!

❁ all are college students (age +18), mention of alcohol, food.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

"Y/N, I'm leaving!" Marco was at the door, putting on his shoes. You nod while you look at your big brother, a smile on his mouth when he sees your eyes from behind the kitchen's door, eating some doritos. "Oh, Jean is coming for dinner." You almost choke. You cough and Marco looks at you. "Y/n?"

"The dorito was spicy, sorry." Jean Kirstein is coming to have dinner at your home. Jean is Marco's best friend since the two of them wore diapers. Marco laughs.

“I told you they were spicy. Well, I'll go now, I’m late! Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll cook once we arrive home!”

You don’t like cooking, but you like even less to be alone with Jean while Marco is occupied. Marco never wants you or him to help, which means you’ll be alone with Jean when he cooks. You remembered your room was a mess and your makeup is in the main bathroom. You run to go and order things a bit, just in case Jean needs to use the bathroom and sees all your makeup around. You also entered your room and got changed, using a pretty outfit based in pastel pink clothes.

Jean is just a couple years older than you, but he thinks about you as his little sister, or so does he say. After all, he and Marco are like brothers, so that makes you her "fake lil-sis." You're tired of that sentence. Of that "How's my sis today?". You want him to look at you like a girl, someone to fall in love with. Not someone to apply a fake blood rule. Marco trains football until 8 p.m, so you have exactly an hour to get all clean. Even when you and Marco are really tidy people, it’s impossible to keep all the things in their places. You’re sitting on your bed, moving your legs with nervousness, when you hear the boys entering home.

“We’re back!” Marco yells. You prepare yourself for acting as nothing happens while you go down stairs. Your brother is taking out his shoes and giving his friend house slippers.

“Hi, welcome.” Your voice comes out more shy than you’ve expected. Jean looks up, his hazel eyes looking directly at yours. You feel your legs weak when he smiles.

“Hi, y/n!” he says. For your luck, you hear another voice.

“Is y/n here?” Connie’s voice is listened behind Marco.

“She lives here, idiot.” Jean comes in and you look how his tall body is now positioned near yours. Connie smiles and runs toward you, his arm around your shoulders.

“Jean, sometimes people go and spend nights out with friends, specially if you’re coming.” The boy clicks his tongue. “Long time no see, bestie.” You laugh. It’s true that Connie is one of your best friends, he’s in your math group, and his outgoing personality made him became one of your best friends really quick, and also Marco’s.

"You're having dinner here?" Connie shakes his head.

"Nah. Today I cook on the shared flat, I don't want to leave Sasha without dinner or she'll eat my chocolate reserves. I just came to steal a couple beers to Marco." Marco points the fridge with his index. Connie laughs. "Bro, I know where your fridge is, but thanks anyway."

They have a trust in each other that you envy, is so natural for them to visit the others' houses, and they're comfortable with it. As you're comfortable with them hanging around your house, seeing Marco so happy. Jean crosses his arms, his arm touching yours for a second. Your braincells disconnect from your body and you enter in a kinda of Jean repetitive thoughts. Connie sits on your sofa, opening a beer.

"Well, I'll go and make some pasta. You guys can play there." Connie takes the remotes, giving one to Jean and another to you.

"Marco, you should play with them." you say. "I'll cook."

"Don't worry! I beat their asses every day, now it's your turn to do the same." he says, entering the kitchen. You sigh, taking the remote. They put a shooter. You sit in the middle of your sofa, giving space to Jean to sit near Connie.

"Fuck, I'm so bad at this..." You say. Even knowing is a cooperative game against zombies, you're always the first one to die. Jean laughs quietly, before sitting next to you. His leg collides with yours in a jokingly way.

"I'll protect you." he says. You know he's talking about the game, but you can't help and start daydreaming about him and you, how his long fingers will take your hand and pull you to his chest, whispering those words on...

"Oi, Jean, you're not that good to protect her! Zombies will kill you two unless I protect you both!"

"Connie you suck at this game." Jean defends himself.

"I'm sure Y/N prefers me to protect her. Or do you prefer Jean?"

He's dead man. He knows perfectly what do you feel. He knows you like Jean a lot, and he has been trying to make you confess. Jean looks at you, his sweet gaze fixed on your eyes. Yo look down.

"I think I can handle it by myself." Connie laughs and Jean roasts him. The game starts. You watch how Jean's fingers change quickly between all the buttons: pressing, touching, moving. You look again to the TV, blushed. You shouldn't be thinking this things. Concentrate in the game, Y/N. Concentrate. The game goes strangly well, the three of you comunicate your plans easily to the others, and it all goes well. Jean rests his back against the sofa, making his t-shirt go out a bit and his sport shorts tighten around his worked body. You can't take your eyes out. You blush again and you feel how your remote vibrates, indicating you're being eat by a zombie. Connie sighs and Jean looks at the screen.

"Fuck, Y/N, sorry." he says. You clear your throat and shake your head.

"I was distracted, sorry." Connie smiles.

"What distracted you, bestie?" he asks. You're going to kill him. You don't answer, getting up and asking what do they want to drink. Jean asks for a glass of water and Connie asks if you could bring something to eat, even when he has to leave in ten minutes. You give Jean his glass and Connie some chips.

"Thank you, bestie." he says. You look at him, faking a smile.

"Eat and be silent for a while, bestie." he nods and eats. Even knowing you're joking, he doesn't say anything for a bit. He's concentrated in the game, as Jean is. You go to the kitchen and ask Marco if he needs soemthing. He shakes his head, preparing the sauce for the spaghetti.

"Weren't you playing?" he asks. You nod.

"Yep. I died." he smiles. Marco's smile is the most bright and beautiful smile you ever seen. You wanted to have a smile like his, but you only have his same eyes and freckles. He looks at you.

"Go, go. Don't leave my guests alone!" you nod and went back again to the living room. The game is finished, with Connie and Jean's stadistics in the screen.

"Look, bunny!" he says "I was the better one to protect you!". It's true that Jean's stadistics are better than Connie's.

"Oi, Kirstein, you're just a bit better... It was luck." he says. He looks the hour on his glass and gets up. "Well, I'll go home now. It was a pleasure." he says. You accompany him to the door. "I wish you luck, bestie. I'm sure you need it." You punch playfully Connie's shoulder before hugging him. "And, mark my words: He's just waiting." Then, he leaves, without giving you the opportunity to ask what the heck he meant by that. You head back to the living room, where Jean is sitting on the sofa. His sweater is on a near chair. It's so big and looks so comfortable...

"Do you want to play more?" you ask. Jean looks at you while you sit, giving him space. He smiles.

"Why not! Do you want me to teach you how to play this one?" he takes a open world game. You know he's really good at them. Marco, Jean and Eren usually play online every saturday, and they want you to join their team, but you haven't played that much. You nod. "Okay, let me..." He moves near to you. He takes the controller and gives one to you, keeping him the other. He enters the game. "Well, choose a character, bunny."

He has been calling you bunny since he discovered how much you like bunnies. They're so fluffy and beautiful, you like them. You have one, called "Wink", because he has a genetic problem that makes him wink one of his beautiful eyes. He was about to be sacrificed because of that, but you saved him in the last moment. He's now a happy bunny with a curious talent. You doesn't dislike the pet name Jean gave you years ago, but it makes him sound like he's calling you a really affectionate nickname.

You go back to reality and choose a cute little girl using a big hat. He chooses a near character and clicks play. "Okay. This is the main city, so now you have to climb here to unlock the map..." he explains you for a while, and you follow his character. Sometimes, when he moves his leg, his knee collides with yours. Now, you're totally stuck in a level.

"Jean, how do I...?" he looks at your character, stuck between two walls.

"Can I?" he puts his hands near your controller and, when you're about to give it to him, he puts his big hands on top of yours, covering them. His fingers pressed lightly against yours. You look at him, but he has his eyes fixed on the screen, as he moves your fingers with his. “You have to move like this, silly...” he says. But you can’t concentrate in anything more than his scent near you, the warmth his body irradiates and his fingers pressing yours sweetly. You feel how your heart speeds up it's beat.

"Y/N!" Marco yells. "Can you take the garbage to the container, please?" he asks. You yell yes in response, getting away from Jean's body. You get up fast. He does the same, suddenly kinda uncomfortable.

"I'll accompany you, bunny." he says. You nod, taking the garbage bag. Jean follows you silently. The container is not far from your house, just a couple crosswalks. You take the bag and start walking. It's dark now, and the street is really quiet. Just your steps and Jean's can be heard. He follows you keeping a distance, his long legs making short steps. "The night is beautiful today." he says. You nod in response. You look at both sides before crossing the street.

"Maybe a little bit cold." you say. He quickens the pace to be near to you. The sweater he took from the chair is around his waist, so he takes it and puts it on your shoulders.

"Use it. I'll take the bag." he says. You murmur a little "thanks" while putting his sweater on. It smells like him. You try to take the bag from his hands back, but he moves. "Jean, give me back the trash." He smiles playfully.

"Take it from me, bunny." he jokes. His long arms move the bag, avoiding you to take it. He's playing near the road, so if you go around him and surprise him from the road, you can take it. That's why you go down to the road, without looking and without noticing a car that is coming fast towards you. The car lights were really low, and that didn't make you realize it was coming. But now, now that Jean yelled your name and the car beeped, you realize you're about to be hitted by it.

You can't move, your body is totally paralyzed. You knew the car was trying to stop, but the high velocity it got is impossible to stop. You thought you'll feel a hard hit, but you felt a soft thing around you.

Jean's body is around yours when you find you two on the street. It takes you a couple seconds to realize what happened.

"Jean, Jean, Jean." you move him. Got he hit by the car? Did he put his body between yours and the car? He looks at you, his eyes searching your gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asks. You nod while he gets up, helping you to fo the same.

"And you? Did it hit you?" He shakes his head.

"I just pulled you against me, that's why we were on the floor." He explains. "None of us got hit. But you have to be more careful, what could have happened to you if I wasn't here? You coul... Y/N?" he asks. Tears are running down your tears. He takes you in a hug, his big and warm body protecting yours.

"Sorry." You say. You feel how he caresses you hair.

"You scared me. I thought the car was going to hit you. Be more careful." You nod. You try to make a joke, to make things more comfortable.

"You're really a good fake brother."

"That's what you think of me?" he asks. Isn't that what he wants you to think? Isn't he the one calling you sis? His hands explore a bit your body, with long caresses from your neck to your low back. His long fingers running slow on your skin.

"That's what you think of me" you answer. He clicks his tongue.

"You never showed any interest in me. I gave up and treated you like a sister. That's what you wanted, no?" You wanted to look at him, but he doesn't let you, pressing your head soflty against his chest.

"I was in love with you, Jean. But you came home and tell my brother how good Mikasa looked and «How are you, little sister?». What I was supossed to do? Compete with an older girl? Make you realize I'm not your little sister?"

He doesn't say nothing for a while. He breathes deeply, before talking.

"Sorry, I was nervous. I thought the car was going to hit you. I thought I was about to see you getting hit." he says. His breath is a little bit irregular now. Taking some valor, you leave a kiss on his chest, where is heart is ubicated. He sighs. "I also liked you. But it didn't feel good, you were my bestie's little sister. I didn't want to ruin my friendship or worse, your relation with your brother. I thought it was better for me to stay away. That's why I treated you like that. I was trying to convince myself. It didn't work." he lets out a little laugh.

"I felt like you were serious about it. That's why I never said anything. But I do like you, Kirstein."

"You're a lucky girl." he says. He keeps your head buried on his chest. "Because I also like you, Bott." he says. He leaves a soft kiss on your hair and, shyly, accompanies you to throw the garbage. There's silence. Once you're walking back, in the same silence, he breaks it. "Should we date, then?" he asks. "We're both adults and we like each other, doesn't it work like that?" he asks. You nod.

"But, Marco?" he says then. Oh, you forgot about him. Marco, your brother, his best friend.

"Oh, true..."

"Well, Marco is home and we aren't." he says. "He isn't going to miss us a couple minutes, right?" his voice getting low as his lips got closer to yours. "You don't know how many times I wanted to kiss those lips or caress this body." he murmurs. You tangle your hands around his neck.

"Why you didn't, then?" you ask. He lets out a little laugh.

"Now I have all the time of the world to kiss you." you feel his soft lips against yours. His hands around your waist and yours tangled on his hair. It feels so good.

"I hope so."

m e a n w h i le

"do you think he confessed?" Connie asks. Marco keeps taking out plates while talking to Connie on the phone.

"They have been out for twenty minutes. I'm a 99% sure he did, and he's corrupting my little sister behind a house." he says.

"He doesn't want to break your sister's relation with you." Connie says. Marco sighs.

"My sister is in love with him. If both like each other, it's none lf my business."

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fallenrepublick · 3 years

Note

ngl I think I have a little crush on Tech😳😳😳😳😳 can you write a little something about him teaching or walking through the controls of something at a panel. But hes standing right behind you, mouth right next to your ear, hand gently guiding yours across the panel. He does not realize what he's done until nearly an hour after the lesson is over😳

Bro... bro............... me too

And by little crush I think you mean a ridiculously prominent, massive, take over your whole heart and soul crush. Wittle far-sighted 6 foot 4 baby-

...Yeah so anyways

He's usually not the type to teach, you know? Nor is he the type to have much interest in relationships... And yet, even as he stands in front of this open panel, lean fingers spread out across wiring and disjointed metal, acknowledging your presence gladly, he's absolutely certain that those two facts remain true.

You ask if he needs any help, given how he's balancing tools on both his arms as well as having one of their handles firmly between his teeth. He tries to give a reply that comes out as more of a garbled clump of sounds, and his expression says that you definitely should know what he just attempted to say.

Nonetheless, you gingerly take the obstructing tool from him, earning a thankful nod, as well as, "Only if you've nothing else to do."

A final snip and reattachment, and he's parted from the work, prepared to simply hand the entire project over to you, while he finishes something else he had started and put off for later. It's then that you realise that you have no idea what it is he's doing.

"...Right..." is all you say as he watches you stare cluelessly at the circuits.

After a moment of you mulling over your options, it no doubt takes you by surprise when you feel his hand at your wrist, guiding you forward confidently into the work.

"Now, it may take some getting used to," he assures, his other hand on your opposite shoulder. He's so close to you, so shamelessly hovering behind you, if you were to turn your head only slightly, your lips would be at his cheek. Is it bad that you want to try? "The diagram is simple, though as far as technique goes, it takes more than one try to perfect many of the connections."

Yeah I'll perfect this connection alright-

It doesn't help that his voice is softer than usual, if that were even possible, and every time he goes to reach forward, his chest pushes more against your back, a tiny reminder of just how strong he really is despite his surface-level role in the group.

He, on the other hand, just so happens to be continuously looking over at you, watching your expressions, trying to glean how much of this information you're processing. And oddly enough, you seem interested, nodding as he speaks, as if trying to impress him with your attentiveness. He chews a bit on his lip, contemplating what it is that has just taken place in his mind. Surely, it can't be what it seems...

A voice comes from the doorway, two pairs of footsteps, and you are not about to turn around and look guilty. So, you stay focused, following the instructions Tech continues to give behind you. He doesn't turn either, and you can't help but wonder if he's thinking the same.

Though you can practically feel the way Hunter hesitates to say anything, his tone gives away no suspicion. "Are you almost done? We need to be going in a few minutes."

"Only a few more alterations," Tech replies matter-of-factly, and you hear the slight click that Echo does with his tongue when he thinks he's heard a lie.

Still, Tech had been telling the truth, about the timing, at least, and the control panel is repaired in almost no time at all. His fingers release the back of your hand, and his grasp on your shoulder falls away, leaving you feeling lonely, though you're ashamed to admit it.

"Thank you," he says, accepting the tool you're returning, your hands brushing against each other. It's still such a foreign feeling... one you quite enjoy. "I'll certainly be asking you to help in the future, especially now that you know what it is you're doing."

And the flight is, in a word, quiet. You don't want to say anything, as you know the moment you do, it could prove disastrous for your feelings. Tech is silent, as that's his usual state. Hunter says nothing, as he knows there are unsaid emotions that still linger, as well as the fact that he has to stop Echo, who is this close to shouting at the both of you, from saying anything that everyone will regret. Crosshair couldn't care less. Wrecker is napping.

And so very suddenly, there comes a jolt in the ship. Tech's controls lurch forward a moment, sending everyone inside nearly tumbling over. And though panic ensues, Hunter hurrying to the front to check for an oncoming assault, Tech assures him that it was a simple malfunction. Hunter stares at his brother a moment, whose eyes are just a tad wider than usual, and lets it go.

And Tech, now stiff and full of anxiety, can only think one thing.

Oh no.

#tech #tech the bad batch

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ao3theskyisblue · 3 years

Text

We are lost (and we’re falling)

Summary:

His words had come out cold, short, and he knew Carlos didn’t need to be a cop to hear the bite in his tone.

The sound of the front door closing echoed loudly in the silence that followed, and he knew Carlos saw what he was looking at the second he heard a sharp inhale.

A sound of a bag dropping to the floor. Keys being returned to their rightful spot. Slow footsteps moving closer, but TK didn’t take his eyes off the offending piece of paper, glaring holes through the thin material holding insurmountable value.

“TK-”

“When.”

Written for Day 1 of @911lonestarangstweek : Emotional whump + “How do we fix this?”

Read on AO3

“When were you going to tell me?”

TK didn’t get up from his spot on the couch, stock still since he found a certain piece of paper reciting words he wasn’t sure he had read correctly for the 10th time that night. So, he sat, staring blankly at the muddled words on paper, waiting for his husband to come home to get the answers to his innumerable questions.

His words had come out cold, short, and he knew Carlos didn’t need to be a cop to hear the bite in his tone.

The sound of the front door closing echoed loudly in the silence that followed, and he knew Carlos saw what he was looking at the second he heard a sharp inhale.

“TK-”

“When.”

TK looked up sharply, and felt his chest tighten at the way Carlos stepped back slightly. But they were going to have this conversation, because he had gone through the various stages of shock, disbelief, fear, anger, and now…nothing.

He wanted to understand.

“A few days before our one-year anniversary.” Carlos said quietly, and TK clenched his jaw, lifting a hand to run through his hair roughly.

“Our one-year anniversary when we were dating, or when we got married?” TK knew the answer to that when he saw Carlos tense, letting out a hollow laugh.

“Were you just never planning on telling me? Until what, I find out myself eventually? When it would already be too late?” TK bit down on his lower lip, hard, tasting the bitter tang of blood as his teeth broke skin. It wasn’t nearly enough to distract him from all this. He could see from the corner of his eyes as Carlos slowly took a seat on the ottoman in front of him, but still keeping a semblance of distance.

“I promise, I was going to tell you,” Carlos’ voice was still quiet, as if he knew the moment one of them raised their voices, it would only further escalate the conversation. “I just never found the right time.”

The right time.

TK couldn’t help a scoff at that, standing up sharply from his spot on the couch to pace the wooden floors of their living room, his steps arrhythmic.

“Tyler-”

TK let out an ugly sound, shooting Carlos a glare that could cut through glass.

“Don’t you dare. I am not in the mood to hear my name right now, especially when you decided to put it in a place where I absolutely object to.” He tore his gaze away from the coffee table, hands clenched tightly by his sides.

“How do we fix this?”

“Oh, so now it’s we?”

“TK-”

“No. I can’t–I can’t do this right now.” TK abruptly stopped his pacing only to violently slam his palms down on the kitchen counter, the skin of his palms stinging with a certain pain he couldn’t feel over the bleeding wounds of his heart. He could feel the tears burning like acid in his eyes, knowing that they could spill at any fueling word.

“Sweetheart,”

Clenching his fingers inwards towards his palms, he felt his nails digging against the soft skin, no doubt leaving deep crescent indentations in their wake.

“TK, look at me.”

The sound that ripped out of his throat was immediately covered with his hand, and TK furiously blinked back the onslaught of tears. He felt a gentle hand on his bicep, and forced himself to take in a few shuddering breaths before turning around, facing his husband. Carlos’ own eyes were red-rimmed, but he still had a small, albeit sad smile on his lips.

“Talk to me.” Carlos’ grip on his arm tightened, and TK swallowed back the sob that wanted to break free, instead taking in another deep breath and closing his eyes.

He could feel the anguish filling up the room in suffocating waves, but he had already found it hard to breathe the second he had accidentally found the will. His name was printed neatly underneath a paragraph of writing, taunting him.

TK stares at the space between them, knowing that there was a hand on his arm, but not quite feeling it.

He couldn’t really name anything he was feeling right now.

“You have no idea what you’re asking.”

The words came out quiet, subdued, and TK wasn’t sure if Carlos even heard him. But then there was a warm hand trailing up his arm, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You’re my partner. My better half, the love of my life,” Carlos stresses, as if that would somehow alleviate the pain currently tearing him to shreds. “There is no one else I trust with this more than you.”

A hot wave of fury washed over him. TK stepped back from the gentle hold to level a glare at the man standing before him, who looked stricken. TK hardly ever pulled away from Carlos’ touches, feeling a pit growing in his stomach at the hurt in his husband’s gaze.

“You-you have no idea-”

“I trust you-”

“I don’t trust myself, Carlos!”

TK felt the man in front of him reel back at that, but still refused to lift his gaze. He knew what he would see – concern, confusion, but what he couldn’t bear to see was the ever-present softness that never disappeared no matter how bad their arguments got.

Swallowing thickly, TK twisted the gold wedding band around his finger. Ever since the day they promised each other forever, the ring had become one of his grounding sources. Not stopping his administrations, TK tried for a smile which only turned into a grimace.

“You are asking me to be the bridge between your life and death,” He started, clenching his jaw at the last part. “A single word, a signature, and I have the power to take your life. Don’t you dare make it seem like this is an easy decision for me, you don’t get to do that.” TK waved a hand towards the papers scattered on the coffee table, hearing Carlos suck in a sharp breath.

The ticking of the kitchen clock sounded louder than he remembered, and he tried to focus on the rhythmic ticking to try and calm his racing heartbeat.

It wasn’t working.

Carlos didn’t move closer, but his next words hit him like a bucket of ice water.

“You think I don’t know you put my name down for yours?”

The words weren’t accusing, nor were they harsh. Instead, they were stated as a fact, something TK couldn’t deny.

That didn’t mean it was the same thing.

“That’s different.” He says icily, but Carlos didn’t so much as flinch. His gaze never wavered.

“How so? From where I’m standing, you and I seem to be thinking the same thing.” One thing he’s found to be a little frustrating and also endearing was how logical Carlos was with his arguments. TK didn’t know whether it was something that came from working in law enforcement, but he found it hard to argue with reason.

They didn’t fight often, but when they did, it was a brief fuel to the fire, something that both of them knew that would be worked out in the end and that at the end of the day, they were just two men who fiercely loved each other.

“Because you-” TK trailed off, the sudden heaviness of his thoughts weighing him down like lead. Carlos frowned.

“Because I’m…?”

There were a few beats where they just stared at each other. TK could see that Carlos was itching to reach out towards him, but he knew that he had to be the first one to close the distance between them.

He wasn’t ready.

“When people leave, they take pieces.”

His dad took the first piece. It had been a small piece, but a piece, nonetheless. Something he couldn’t grasp – just watching from a distance as it slipped through his fingers.

His mom took the next piece, and a 7-year-old’s memories were surprisingly vivid. He still remembered the colour of the moving truck parked outside their house, the sound of the spluttering engine as it came to life, the look on his neighbours’ faces as they not-so-subtly watched through the window as his parents argued.

The pieces kept chipping away as the years went by. His stepmom. Enzo. Every new friend he made and grew to never speak to again, his first overdose, the dinner with Alex.

All those pieces left scars that he learned to bear better with time, but they never fully healed. He would never completely get those pieces back, but building himself to always strive for a better life created new ones he could nurture and protect.

And the person who carried the biggest piece of all, was the man standing right in front of him.

TK closed his eyes, knowing that Carlos could see the tremble of his lips as he tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. “You have all of me. If I have to watch you-if I’m the reason you leave this world-” A single tear slipped down his cheeks, and he quickly lifted a hand to wipe it away roughly. “I won’t be able to let you go Carlos, don’t ask me to.”

Carlos remained silent. TK didn’t know how long they had been standing in the little area between the living room and the kitchen, but from the way one of his knees had locked, the dull ache pulsating through his leg in waves, it must have been a while.

He still couldn’t bring himself to sit down.

“You think it’s easy for me to think about letting you go?”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and TK warily lifted his gaze from the floor to Carlos’ eyes, which were filled with ripples of love and pain. He took a small step forward, but nothing more than that.

“Because let me tell you, it would be the single hardest decision in my entire life.” He says shakily, and TK feels his heart shatter at the tears that broke free. This wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that he would see Carlos cry, but it never changed the fact that every time he did, something in him died a little with every tear that slipped down his cheeks.

He hadn’t realized his hands were trembling until he lifted them to gently cup Carlos’ face, thumbs slowly moving to delicately wipe the tears away. Two warm hands covered his own, and TK leaned up to press his lips gently to Carlos’ forehead. The hands covering his tightened when he leaned back.

“I thought the single hardest decision were those adoption papers we filed a few months ago.” TK says lightly, feeling the first genuine smile grace his lips since the start of all this when Carlos let out a wet chuckle.

No matter how many years have passed, TK feels himself melting all over again at the signature warmth in Carlos’ gaze that was surely mirrored in his own as they looked at each other.

“They’re on different meters.” Carlos responds, and TK’s eyes crinkle at the sides. His hands move to his hips, pulling him in closer.

“We can’t see the future,” Carlos says softly, and TK’s smile dims. “There will be many more uncertainties down the road, obstacles we’ll face. But I’m sure, with every fiber of my being, that I want to face them with you– to be the one to hold your hand until the end.”

TK forcefully swallows past the bitter tang in his throat.

The words wash over him in a dizzying warmth. Death was inescapable, and a constant presence in both their lines of work. It was one of the reasons they treasured every minute they got with each other, never knowing when their clocks would abruptly stop. And although the mere thought of the possibility of Carlos leaving his world tore him raw and hung him dry, he knew that if it truly came to that, he would want the exact same thing.

For better or for worse.

Lifting a hand to run through Carlos’ curls fondly, his other hand drifted to his pulse point, feeling the rhythmic pulsing against his fingers.

“I love you.” TK says instead, pulling Carlos into a tight hug that was returned with equal fervor without hesitation.

“I know. And I love you.” Carlos murmured, tightening his arms around him. TK closed his eyes, pressing his face into the slightly rough material of his husband’s uniform, absently remembering that he hadn’t gotten a chance to change when he got home.

Pressing a kiss to Carlos’ shoulder, TK looked up to see brown eyes already looking at him affectionately. He slowly trails a hand down his husband’s arm, smiling at the trail of goosebumps left behind in their wake.

“I’m never letting go of your hand,” TK whispers, his hand having travelled down to intertwine with Carlos’, lifting it up to press a lingering kiss to the back of it. He stares at the ridges and scars with teary eyes, every indentation – every mark ingrained into his mind.

“I’m going to hold onto you for a long, long time.”

#Tarlos #Tarlos fic #911lsangstweek

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willow-salix · 3 years

Text

TAG MiniBang 2021

Because the combined bad influences of Flyboy and Sonata were at work here we also decided to bend the rules a little and post early...

I was privileged to work with one of my best friends on this project, @misssquidtracy . We went a little rogue (seems to be a theme for us) and shared both parts of the challenge with both of us contributing to the art and the writing. Squiddy provided a beautifully done pallet knife piece as the background for my foreground art and we plotted the story together to ensure that it worked for both of us. We had been looking forward to sharing the writing but unfortunately, due to life constraints on her part she was only able to write a little of the fic but what she did add perfectly compliments the tone and style of my writing.

Big thanks to @tagminibang ) @godsliltippy ) for organising this event.

So, here it is, our offering to the TAG Mini Bang. We hope you enjoy it.

Ting ting ting

“Not again,” Virgil groaned, hauling himself up the stairs from the kitchen to the lounge. He regretted ever giving Gordon that bell, he really did. Yes his brother had gone through a tough time, yes he had scared the hell out of them when the Chaos Crew had left him at the bottom of the ocean in his mangled craft, yes they were incredibly grateful that he was alive and mostly whole, but if they had to hear that dinging one more time they might possibly murder him themselves.

“Yes, Gordy, what do you need?”

“I’m lonely, and I’m hungry, come and sit with me for a bit?”

“Sure-”

“But maybe make me a sandwich first?”

“A sandwich?”

“Yeah, with extra cheese and a pickle on the side, not too large a pickle but not too small that it’s gone in one bite. I want to taste it, you know, but not be overwhelmed.”

“Sure-”

“And can you get me a drink too? One of my special milkyshakes, you know, with the ice cream and frozen banana in it?”

“Coming right up,” Virgil sighed, heading back down to the kitchen again.

“Gordon still demanding everything and anything?” Scott asked as he jogged in from the poolside. His T-shirt was sticking to his chest and his hair was damp with sweat but he still looked like he could do it all again. Not that they would have time, they were lucky if they got to do any planned exercise at all, usually they were forced to skip it and work out on the job when a call came in.

“Of course he is,” Virgil growled, slapping a slice of cheese on a piece of bread with far more force than necessary.

“What did the cheese do to you?”

“It’s guilty by association.”

“Ah,” Scott said, like that explained things perfectly.

A few slices of chicken received the same treatment and Scott wondered if the meat had actually been dead when it arrived on the island or if Virgil had simply smacked it into submission so well that the chicken had flown clear into next week and arrived as sandwich filling.

“Can you fix his drink?” Virgil asked.

“Can’t gotta shower this off before Grandma accuses me of stinking up the place again.”

“Any excuse,” Virgil scowled. “It would only take you a second.”

“A second too long, bro, I’m escaping while I can and you’d be wise to do the same,” Scott said, heading for the stairs and freedom.

“How can I escape when Gordon needs help?”

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Scott told him wisely.

“I am? And that would be…”

“John’s home.”

Virgil snorted out a laugh. “He’s less likely to do it than you are.”

“No, you're misunderstanding me. If John’s home that means…” Scott let his sentence trail off into silence heavily filled with insinuation.

“Sel’s here,” Virgil finished triumphantly, catching on perfectly.

“Give that Tracy a prize,” Scott grinned, shooting triumphant finger guns his brother’s way as he headed up the stairs.

And they said that John was the genius in the family, they hadn’t seen Scott at his most devious. Virgil wasted no time in yanking out his phone and texting the witch to come and take over.

“Here’s your sammich, Squidward,” Selene cooed, plonking the plate down on Gordon’s lap while smacking a kiss to his forehead. “Virgil started it but I finished it for you, Brains called him down to his lab with some kind of air filter emergency so I took over. I brought you some of those crisps you like from my private stash too.”

“The cheesy curl ones?” Gordon asked hopefully.

“Yep,” she grinned, waggling a family sized bag of Quavers in his general direction.

“Did you bring my drink?” Gordon asked around a mouthful of chickeny goodness. Say what you wanted about Virgil but he made a damn good sandwich, even if Gordon could taste that this was made with a little less love and a little more impatience than usual.

“No, sorry, did you want one? Virgil didn’t say that. I’ll go get you something, just wait right there.”

"Not like I can leave if the mood takes me," Gordon grumbled as he opened the chip bag.

She was already gone, only to race back in a few moments later with a can of coke.

“What? What’s wrong, boo?” Selene asked when she saw the pouting look of disappointment on Gordon’s face.

“It was supposed to be one of my special milkyshakes,” he whined.

“Right, got it, my bad!”

She was gone again, taking off to the kitchen where, upon closer inspections, she did indeed find the beginnings of a milkshake. There were two scoops of ice cream already in the blender, melting in the warmth of the room. A half peeled banana sat abandoned on the counter next to a carton of milk.

“Typical,” she groused as she set about breaking up the banana, pouring the milk and setting it to blend as she tidied the mess away. Once done she poured it into a tall glass, added a straw and a few slices of fresh banana to decorate the edges, just as he liked it, and delivered it to the waiting aquanaut.

“Great, thanks, Sel,” he grinned, handing her his now empty plate and swapping it for the glass. She put the plate on the coffee table and sat on the couch opposite him.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“Sit with me and keep me company?” he begged, looking so miserable and pathetic that she couldn’t say no.

“Of course I will.”

Gordon swung his injured leg up and she moved to sit next to him on the couch, placing a cushion on her lap for him to rest his cast covered foot on.

Gordon settled down with a contented sigh, sucking happily on his straw, the milkshake level in the glass steadily dropping.

“I’m bored,” Gordon bitched five minutes later.

“That peace lasted a long time,” Selene laughed, putting her phone down on the side table to give him her full attention. “What can I do to help? Do you want to watch something or play a game?”

Gordon made a face. “You’re crap at games, Sel.”

One eyebrow rose in disbelief. “I wouldn’t exactly say crap…”

“You tried to play with Alan and died three times in two minutes, lost all your lives and were forced to float along behind him as a ghost for the rest of his turn.”

“Anything is crap when you say it like that,” Selene huffed.

“Only when it’s true.”

“Tell me then, oh great games master, what do you want to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then don’t moan you’re bored,” she pointed out.

“I mean there’s nothing to do. No one is around.”

Selene gestured to her chest. “Am I suddenly invisible?”

“No, of course not,” he scoffed. “That would be far too cool, why don’t you have witch powers like that?”

“Because I live in the real world, not a movie?”

“Lame,” he declared, dismissing it.

“Back to the original point that I am, in fact, right here. Therefore your comment that no one is around is redundant.”

“I meant no one I can do anything with.”

“Thin ice, bub, thin ice.”

“I meant like my brothers or someone. Alan is busy revising for his final exams, Virgil’s with Brains and I’ve no idea where Scott is but I think he’s avoiding me, which is just mean if you ask me. I’m a delight.”

“Yeah, you sure are,” she drawled, not sounding too convinced. “You’re also forgetting a brother.”

“Who?”

“John? You know, gorgeous ginger love of my life that’s chilling in his room right this minute? That brother?”

“John? No way.”

“What’s wrong with John?” she squawked indignantly. Her man was the most perfect of people, amazing and fabulous, just all round awesome. Although she might be a tad biased.

Gordon shrugged, scrunching his nose up in a ‘meh’ kinda way that said everything and nothing.

“No, come on, tell me what you meant,” she demanded.

“No offence, Sel, but John’s a bit…”

“A bit what?” she asked, her tone warning him that he was in very dangerous territory.

Gordon, with the grace of an elephant and confidence of a man that knew he was injured and therefore wouldn’t get slapped, plowed on.

“A bit boring.”

“Boring?!” she hollered, her voice travelling to the four corners of the island so effectively that Alan lifted his head, wondering if some distant God was echoing his thoughts as he slogged through his history homework.

“How very dare you!” Selene continued, working up a good glare that Gordon was completely immune to. He simply sipped the last of his milkshake, smacked his lips and raised an eyebrow, daring her to do something about it.

“He is not boring.”

“Matter of opinion,” Gordon shrugged, handing her the glass to put down on the table.

“Right, that’s it, you can besmirch my fun factor but I will not allow you to do so to my man. That’s a step too far.” She gently, for which he was thankful, shoved his leg off her lap and dragged his hover chair over from its spot beside Virgil’s piano.

“Get the hell in, hoppy, we’re going for a ride.”

-x-

"You deal with him, he's driving me nuts and pissing me off at the same time."

"Me? I'm the very picture of perfection, I could never drive anyone nuts."

John declined to comment on that one for fear of never stopping, he had twenty-four years worth of stories after all.

“The pissing you off is subjective too,” Gordon finished triumphantly.

"He's your problem now," Selene announced, shoving Gordon's hover chair further into the room before making her escape, slamming the door shut behind her.

John closed his eyes, praying for patience. His fiancée was well known for her legendary patience when it came to pampering and mothering his family whenever any of them were sick or injured. She'd spent almost every day with Gordon since his run in with the Chaos Crew and had done so with relentless cheer, for her to have given up now was not a good sign.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Gordon protested hotly.

"Are you sure?"

Gordon averted his gaze, suddenly taking great interest in a dust particle dancing across the shaft of sunlight filtering in through the window, "Yes, I'm sure. I wasn't doing anything. That was part of the problem."

"Ah," there it was. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm so bored," Gordon wailed. "And your girlfriend is being mean to me."

"Fiancée," John corrected him, not looking up from his work.

"It's not my fault I hate sitting around doing nothing all day. I’ve gone from a physically and mentally intensive, fifty plus hour a week job, to sitting on my ass from dawn until dusk. Can you blame a guy for getting twitchy?"

"Unfortunately, you don't have much of a choice at the moment," John reminded him, quite needlessly he thought.

"Gee, thanks for the reminder," Gordon huffed, trying to cross his arms although the cast and sling he was sporting prevented it. That just seemed to annoy him even more.

"I can't do anything right now! How do you do it?"

"Do what?" John asked, squinting through his magnifier at the small window frame he was carving from a piece of polymer clay.

"Just sit around all day."

John raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I don't sit around all day."

"OK, float around then. It's not like you're actively running around like the rest of us are."

"I'll pretend I never heard you say that," John scowled, wishing Selene had dumped his brother into the sea instead of into his quiet, peaceful room.

"You're sitting around right now," Gordon pointed out, gesturing to the desk John was sitting at, which was currently doing double duty as a work table for his latest project.

"One day you'll learn to appreciate the benefits of a quiet, occupied mind and a still body," John told him.

Gordon sighed, propping his good elbow on the desktop, his chin resting in his upturned palm as he watched his brother fiddling with tiny things that seemed utterly useless to him.

"What are you even doing?"

"Working on a series of book nooks for Sel's side of the bookcase," John answered, sounding slightly distracted as he measured the finished window against its place in an intricately carved brick wall.

"Why?"

"Because she likes them."

"I mean why are you making it? Can't you just buy her one? It's not like you can't afford it."

"Where's the challenge in that? Besides, things are always more special when you make them yourself."

Gordon yawned and leant forward to rest his head on the tabletop.

"Do you want to help?" John offered, although honestly Gordon's version of helping was always patchy at best.

Gordon scooted closer to look over John's shoulder, eyes darting over the rectangular box that he was building the nook inside. About the size of two thick books sandwiched together, the nook already had a little cobbled street and two shop fronts in place. The tabletop was scattered with a selection of impossibly tiny screwdrivers, picks, scalpels and other instruments of possible torture that he couldn't hope to name.

"Pass," he announced decisively, flicking the control of his hoverchair so he spun in a wide circle, pointing to the door. "I'm out."

"Peace at last," John sighed, flicking his magnifier back into place over his right eye as he set aside the window to be baked later and reached for a fresh blob of clay.

-x-

"What ya dooooooing?" Gordon yodelled, slamming the bedroom door open so hard that it smacked into the wall and shook several picture frames. He scooted his way into the room without even waiting for an invite.

"Gordon!" John huffed, clutching his heart where it was trying to leap out of his chest from the shock of his brother’s sudden, and very noisy, entrance.

"Hi, I got bored, thought I'd drop in on my favourite big brother," Gordon grinned as he glided his hoverchair closer.

"Are Scott and Virgil busy?" John asked, that would be the only reason Gordon would have promoted him to his favourite.

"Yes," Gordon admitted, "but that's not the reason why I'm here."

John turned his head to shoot him a raised eyebrow of doom, clearly communicating without words that he didn't believe him in the slightest.

"So, what are you doing?"

"Working on this book nook," John replied patiently, holding up the small cauldron he was crafting.

"The same one?"

"Yes."

Gordon’s eyes nearly fell out of his head, "Still? It’s been four days!"

"Yes," John hissed out, starting to get frustrated by the constant questions.

"Why?"

"Because it takes a long time. If you're going to do a project you should do it right."

"At the speed you're going it's gonna take forever," Gordon snorted, casting an assessing eye over the work John had already done.

"That doesn't matter," John assured him. "It's not really about the time it takes or the end result, it's about the process, the journey to get there."

"Sounds lame to me," Gordon yawned.

"Obviously," John drawled, rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon demanded to know, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Because it's you."

"Hey! Rude."

"Accurate," John said, placing the little cauldron down and selecting another piece of clay which he placed on a ceramic tile.

"Why?"

"Because it requires a calm mind. It's good to slow down sometimes and just be still."

"Says the console jockey."

Console Jockey? He did not just say that!

"So you don't think my job is stressful? Or as tiring and important as yours?" John snapped, wondering if it was bad form to smack your injured brother around the head with a partially constructed book nook. He glanced at the nook, he had put a lot of work into it… It would be a shame to waste it. That thought alone saved Gordon.

“Well, yeah I get that it might be a bit stressful, but it’s not like you have to do much that puts you in danger, not like us,” Gordon continued, digging his hole even deeper, a hole that John was looking forward to shoving him into.

“We all have our specialities, you couldn’t do your job without me doing mine,” John retorted, trying very hard not to let Gordon’s comments get to him. Gordon would never understand what it was like for him to be stuck so far away from the action, away from his brothers when things were going wrong.

Gordon, thankfully for him, had been unconscious from the moment he had activated his emergency code. He hadn’t heard the frantic calls going out over the comms as the family mobilized to help him. He hadn’t heard the desperate scramble as Thunderbirds took off, racing to the scene. But John had heard it all.

John had been the one to stay on the line with Gordon, talking to him the entire time, knowing that he probably wouldn’t hear it but feeling that he needed to say it all the same. He wanted to know that if his little brother regained consciousness for even a second he would hear a familiar voice, that he would know that they were coming, that they would rescue him. He would know that he wasn’t alone.

He knew what it was like for people that were in danger, knew the comfort they got from someone talking to them, listening to their stories, being there for them verbally if not physically. John was often the one that spent the most amount of time with those they rescued, keeping their spirits up as much as possible until his brothers got there.

His brothers were seen by their rescuees as the real heroes, the ones that leapt in and plucked them out of danger, but John was the one that got them that help, the one that made sure the rescue played out as best it could, liaising and coordinating until the job was done. But Virgil, Scott, Gordon and Alan were the ones that got the thanks , the ones that got the hugs after they dropped their charges off, not John.

Not that he minded too much, he knew that his job was just as important as theirs, maybe even more so because, when someone put out that call for help, when they sent their desperate plea out into the world, they deserved to know that someone would always be listening out for it, that someone would hear and that help would come.

He knew all of this, and he knew that Gordon did too, it was just the frustration of inactivity that was making him say the things that he was. John just wished that that knowledge made it easier to listen to.

“I might not be doing the physical rescuing,” John continued, feeling the need to push his point home. “But I work just as hard, when you’re home you’re off duty until a call comes in, you can relax, swim, watch movies and laze around until you’re needed. When I’m up there I’m on duty 24/7 and even when I do manage to catch some sleep it’s not deep or particularly restful. Any little noise, any call that triggers the system's keyword algorithm gets transferred automatically, I have to go from asleep to awake in seconds to take it.”

Gordon was quiet for once, watching him closely. John didn’t like it, it made him feel like an exhibit in a zoo. And here we have the little seen Tracy, see how he stays inside his hide and hardly ever ventures out… he knew how they saw him, why they likely thought he had the easy job.

“These help, they give me something else to focus on. I need to keep my mind active and challenged while still trying to relax.” John paused, trying to think of a way to explain his thinking that Gordon might understand.

“These are almost like a meditation,” he started. Gordon understood meditation and finding your zone. “Creating something out of almost nothing. It keeps my mind focused, helps with finger dexterity and hand eye coordination with the added bonus of it relaxing me. It’s good to slow down and take some time to do something creative, you should try it some time.”

Gordon listened to his brother and he tried to take in all his words, he tried to understand the meaning behind them, he really did, but it just didn’t make any sense to him. He understood about wanting to be lazy, to sit around and do nothing sometimes. He loved to laze on the couch with his snackies and an Into the Unknown marathon playing out on the holoscreen, but that was watching something exciting, interesting, to him that was relaxing. This...whatever it was that John was actually doing, made no sense whatsoever to him. The idea of trying to relax by actually thinking...that was the most alien concept of all.

Gordon knew, probably better than his family gave him credit for, what it was like to be mislabelled. Within every sibling pool, there were the mandatory roles: the serious one, the caring one, the smart one, the funny one, the calm one, the angry one, the one who sang in the shower, et cetera. He’d proudly embraced the role of ‘the funny one’, and had diligently flown the flag for the humour camp for as long as he could remember. If a brother came home from a rescue in a slump and needed a cheery pick-me-up, it was Gordon who stepped up to the task, irrespective of his own mood. His smile and laugh were infectious, and he had yet to encounter a frown he couldn’t (eventually) turn upside down.

But with every ‘role’ came misconceptions. Scott was serious, therefore people were quick to automatically assume that he was a killjoy. Similarly, John’s intellect and preference for solitude often went hand in hand with him being branded antisocial, since there was apparently no possible way someone could enjoy their own company so much, yet still pursue and maintain meaningful relationships with actual people.

Gordon was no stranger to this treatment. He liked to laugh and be spontaneous, and consequently, was often regarded as the Tracy who didn’t take his work seriously, the Tracy who had the attention span of a gnat (albeit a very handsome one), and the Tracy who couldn’t be trusted with anything that required delicacy, be it physical or emotional. His affinity for making people laugh, though an exceptional quality, frequently acted as a double-edged sword. On the one hand, his relentless optimism made him the most effective of the bunch when it came to emergencies involving children and young adults. On the other hand, it sentenced him to a fate where the bad jokes he cracked would always be two steps ahead of the secret deep thinker that lay within.

“Let me see it again,” Gordon sighed, trying his best to be a supportive and understanding brother, since he did feel a little bad about the things he had just said. He hadn’t meant to say them, they had just come out. That was the trouble with being laid up from an injury, not only were you out of action but you were in pain, and pain made you grumpy and less likely to monitor the things that came out of your mouth the way you should.

He knew that John worked hard, hell he knew that what his brother had said was right, John was never truly off duty. They were all aware that he didn’t get enough sleep, enough down time, enough time to relax and just be. They knew that if John was on Five he would consider himself on duty, at work, and therefore he’d never allow himself to take time out. Things had changed since Selene had blundered her way into his life, now he spent a lot more time on the Island, which meant that he was finally taking some time out for himself. If one of the ways he chose to do that was by crafting ridiculously tiny things out of clay to stick in a hollowed out box that was his business. Gordon wasn’t there to judge, he was there to spend time with his brother.

John moved aside a little so Gordon could get a closer look, trying to resist the urge to smack his hand away every time Gordon reached for a tiny piece that had taken him hours to perfect.

“These are really small,” Gordon mused, poking at a window that John had just finished painting, leaving behind a smudged fingerprint. “Woops, sorry, Bro.”

“Maybe you should try making something of your own,“ John suggested, carefully removing the window from his brother's possession and picking up a brush in order to attempt a fix.

Gordon nodded and John passed him a ceramic tile and a miniature rolling pin.

“How about you try cutting me out a few shop sign bases?” John suggested.

“Do I get one of those scalpel things?” Gordon asked, a little too eagerly for John’s liking.

“Maybe we can work up to that,” John hedged, subtly moving the scalpel out of his brother’s reach and passing him a square cookie cutter. “Use this cutter for now.”

Gordon shrugged and spent a few minutes rolling and squishing the clay trying to get the thickness to the exact measurement that John insisted on. It wasn’t easy or fun.

“Nope!” Gordon announced, giving up and pushing the tile away. “It’s still boring. Pass.”

He swung his hoverchair around and headed in the direction of the door. “Later, Bro.”

“Oh...OK...later, I guess,” John stuttered, wondering just what he had done to deserve such a chaotic family as his.

“Oh, hey, boo, where are you go- WAHH!”

John’s head shot up as Selene’s yelp rang out from the hallway.

“Sorry!”

“So you should be, you little shit,” she grumbled to his retreating back as she thumped into the room.

“What happened, love?”

“Let’s just say that if his chair had wheels I’d have lost a few toes,” she said, wincing in imagined pain.

John scooted his desk chair back and patted his lap in offer, one that she happily accepted.

“So, why was Gordy doing his boy racer bit? What did you say to him?”

“Me? What makes you think I said anything to him?”

“Because I know you two?”

“Fair,” he sighed, sliding his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t know what to do to help him.”

Selene turned her head to look at him, not liking the helpless look on his face.

“Babe, you are helping him, you’re there to keep him company or talk to him if he needs it, that’s more important than anything. What happened to make you think that you weren’t helping?”

“He was asking me about these again,” John nodded towards his work area on the desktop. “But he didn’t seem to understand, that or he just didn’t want to.”

“He’s Gordon,” she sighed. “You know what he’s like, he’s full on, he’s in your face and he’s not at all subtle. Taking his time with things just doesn’t compute with him.”

��It would do him good though, if he doesn’t learn to embrace it he’ll be exactly the same as he was last time.”

“Was he really that bad?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

John nodded. “He doesn’t do inactivity well. When he had his hydrofoil accident his therapist talked him into signing up for a virtual college degree in Environmental Management of Rivers and Wetlands. It was supposed to take him at least a year as a part time course with ANU in Canberra, but he blew through it in the first semester and earned himself a distinction for his insights on the impact of Anthropogenic Noise on Wetland Habitats. His professor was so impressed he offered him a fully funded PhD, citing his time with WASP and the time he spent in the bathyscaphe as practical experience that would make up for his lack of degree. Obviously he turned it down, but he still likes to rub our faces in it now and then.”

“Wow,” Selene breathed. “Forget his professor being impressed, I’m impressed.”

“He has a phenomenal brain,” John said, a small but very proud smile on his face. “When he actually decides to use it to its full potential, that is. There is nothing he can't do when he chooses to focus on something, he’s all in. It really helped him to feel like he was gaining something and moving forward even though he was sitting still.”

Selene nodded, understanding completely. She knew that all of her boys were wicked smart, but Gordon always presented himself as the least academic. He was more of a doer, wanting to be out in the field, learning as he went, diving in head first to every situation.

But as Selene and John both knew, appearances could be deceiving.

“If that’s what helped him last time, then we need to find a way to convince him to try something new,” Selene insisted.

“I tried, he’s not interested.”

“That was with your things, babe. We need to find something that’s a little more him, and I think I know just the thing.”

-x-

“I have arrived!” Gordon yodelled, announcing his entrance in his own unique way. He slid his hover chair in through the open door like the boss that he was, bringing his shining presence in to brighten up his middle brother's obviously dull existence. “Didja miss me?”

“Like a hole in the head,” John grumbled, turning to look at the grinning face of his brother. His eyes immediately began to water as they were assaulted by the far too bright colours of the shirt Gordon was wearing, a tie dyed monstrosity that Selene had made for him for his birthday.

“A little more gratitude, if you please," Gordon huffed.

“Grandma finally released you?”

“Yep,” Gordon stretched out his injured leg and patted the air cast on his now slingless arm. “Got time off for good behaviour.”

“I find that hard to believe,” John teased, then nodded to Gordon’s arm. “How’s it feeling?”

“Not too bad, my grip still isn't great but Grandma promised me that once the bone has finished knitting I’ll just need to exercise it and build the muscle strength up, then it’ll be as good as new.”

“That’s great, it won't be long before you're able to go back out with Virgil and stop, how did Sel put it, 'haunting the house like the ghost of Christmas future'?"

"Can't come soon enough," Gordon sighed, butting his chair right up close to John's, knocking his arm in the process. "What you do- you're still doing that? Still? It's been a week!"

"It's not like I get a huge amount of down time," John pointed out. "I'm only here now because Sel said she'd dump me if I didn't make an effort to come down earlier in the evenings so I could actually eat a meal with you all."

"You actually believed that threat?" Gordon laughed.

"Of course not, she'd never dump me, but I thought I had better humour her and let her feel like she at least had a little sway," John shrugged, pushing aside the little piece of doorstep he had been painting. "Honestly, it's nice to come down for a meal and family time, I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it until it was happening again."

"I guess we all got a bit too caught up in International Rescue after we lost Dad," Gordon admitted.

"Like we had nothing else in our lives," John nodded, completely understanding.

"Yep."

Gordon fell silent and John let him, concentrating on mixing the perfect colour acrylic to add a few highlights to his stones.

"Can I have a go at making something? I bet I could do it quicker than you," Gordon asked, reaching towards what Selene called the sharps tub. John smacked the lid down on it just in time.

"Actually, we got you a present."

"You did?" Instantly distracted, Gordon sat up straighter, excited by the prospect of a gift. "What did you get me?"

This," John answered, opening his desk drawer and extracting an interestingly shaped bottle, upright with a thicker, rounded bottom and a thinner neck, ending a cork stopper.

"Wow, is that an original?" Gordon asked, taking the bottle carefully and turning it to study it from all angles. He knew exactly what this shaped bottle was, there had been a collection of them in Commander Shore’s office that he would stare at every time he got called in for some reprimand or another.

"19th century," John nodded. "Sel found it in a little shop in Mayfair. They assured her it was a genuine, used on a ship, captain's decanter from around the time of the civil war. They hadn’t fully traced it when Sel bought it but they think it came from one of the ships that fought in one of the smaller skirmishes around 1861.”

“This is really cool, thanks,” Gordon smiled, still turning the bottle over and over.

“It’s to hold this,” John continued, drawing Gordon’s attention back to him.

Grinning, John delved back into his desk drawer and pulled out a rather faded and quite dusty box. He brushed the dirt off the top and slid it over to Gordon.

"A ship?" Gordon frowned.

"Yep, Selene and I thought that you needed a little project of your own, so she had the idea to get you a ship in a bottle. You don’t see them a lot these days, but apparently her Grandfather had a couple and they always fascinated her.”

“So you put the ship in the bottle?”

“Yep, instructions are inside, go nuts.”

“Pfft, instructions,” Gordon snorted. “No one needs instructions, they’re a waste of time.”

-x-

“Ouch,” John hissed, hopping in place on one foot as he bent down to pick up what looked to be a tiny piece of mast that had attacked the sole of his foot. “Gordon, why are there bits of ship all over my floor?”

“Because I dropped them,” Gordon replied, his voice muffled due to the tongue of concentration that was peeking out from between his teeth.

Huffing, John gathered all the pieces off the floor, both pieces of ship and bits that they had been cut out of, and deposited them on the desk next to Gordon.

“How’s it coming along?” John asked, settling in his own chair. He’d only been gone a day but Gordon had managed to take over the entire bedroom, spreading his belongings, bottles, snack wrappers, his phone and a discarded hoodie, all over the place, as well as half the contents of the vintage ship box.

“It’s ridiculous. I think it’s missing pieces or something, it’s broken.”

“Well it was an old kit, but we were assured that it was complete,” John frowned, sliding the tray over that Gordon was supposed to be storing all the pieces in. “Have you checked the contents list and matched each piece to make sure they’re all there?”

Gordon looked at him blankly, like he was talking a foreign language.

“Did you check that everything was there before you started?" John elaborated.

“Of course I did,” Gordon promised, crossing his fingers and hoping his brother didn’t see.

“Against the list?” John clarified.

“I eyeballed it, OK?”

“Not good enough,” John insisted. “That’s not how you go about doing things like this, you can’t just slap them together and hope for the best.”

“Why not?” Gordon whined. It worked for him in almost everything else he did in life.

“Because this happens," John gestured to the mess surrounding them.

“Fine, I’ll read the damn instructions.”

Leaving Gordon to it John slid his almost completed book nook over and picked up his paintbrush to start adding some finishing touches before he started on the wiring for the lights. He’d barely done more than five minutes when Gordon started huffing.

John waited a little longer, trying his hardest to ignore the ever increasing sounds of frustration and impatience from his brother. In the end he couldn't stand it a moment longer, he had to ask the most loaded question ever.

“What’s the problem?” John asked, pushing his own work aside.

“These instructions don’t make sense,” Gordon bitched, flapping the paper in John’s face. “Look at the little picture here, you have to stick this little pole into that hole in the deck but the deck doesn’t want to stay together and that piece there keeps sliding and the pictures make no sense.”

“That’s because you missed around eight steps in between,” John told him, praying for patience.

“No I didn't, I followed the pictures exactly,” Gordon insisted.

“The steps aren’t in the pictures,” John explained. “See right there?” he pointed to the words above the pictures. “The pictures are a diagram of each finished stage, not how to get there. They are for reference only, not instructions.”

“Urghhh, this is going to take forever,” Gordon pouted, crossing his arms. “What’s the point?”

“The point is that by the end of it you’ll have something unique that no one else does, something you can be proud of and know that you built with your own two hands.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth the effort,” Gordon muttered.

“It is,” John promised. “I’ll help. How about I read out the instructions and you follow along? We’ll get through it quicker that way.”

Gordon wasn’t convinced, but John looked so hopeful that he didn’t have the heart to refuse him, especially since he and Selene had gone to so much trouble to get the things for him in the first place. He might be a miserable little sod, but he wasn’t that ungrateful. He knew that they had gone out of their way to get something they thought he’d like, the least he could do was make the thing, even if he knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. Maybe John was right, working together they could get through it quicker, and that could only be a good thing.

“Alright,” Gordon agreed, “let’s give it a go.”

Slowly, methodically, John read out each piece that was needed and Gordon located them, storing them neatly in a wooden box that Selene provided when she popped in to bring them drinks an hour or so later. She stayed just long enough to steal a kiss from John and drop one on the top of Gordon’s head before she beat a hasty retreat, not wanting to get roped into helping. She wasn’t the best at following instructions and didn’t want to get grumped at.

By the time they had all the pieces checked and catalogued they had discovered there were indeed two pieces missing, but thankfully they were easy fixes, just a small , round piece of wood to represent a porthole, which they could easily make a replacement for and a piece of mast. One snipped toothpick later and that was sorted too.

John started with the first set of instructions, reading them out patiently as Gordon found and fitted them together.

“So, how’s work been?” Gordon asked, like a chatty hairstylist, as he carefully dipped the end of a thin dowel into a small pot of wood glue.

“Same as ever,” John deadpanned, “a bunch of idiots that got themselves into trouble and needed help, and only half of them related to us.”

Gordon sniggered, glancing at John, seeing the sly smile on his brother’s face. He’d forgotten just how amusing John could be when he delivered something sarcastically witty with such a serious tone. Gordon hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it, wondering just what his more serious brother would come out with next. John was always like that, he seemed so quiet and reserved but, when he was relaxed and in company he was comfortable with he’d take you by surprise by letting loose a zinger that you couldn’t help but laugh at.

“Let’s not talk about work,” Gordon suggested, “we haven’t hung out properly in ages, you’re either up in Five or there are other people around.”

“Is that your way of saying you’ve missed me?” John teased.

“Maybe,” Gordon allowed, “but if you ever tell anyone I said that I’ll deny it and tell Grandma you want her to make your birthday cake this year.”

John held his hands up in surrender, although he couldn’t hold in the laugh that bubbled up as he reached for the instructions again.

“OK, let’s get this done before we stop enjoying each other’s company.”

They worked slowly but steadily over the next few hours, putting together the structure for the first mast. Once it was done they called it quits and abandoned it for another day, the smell of something tasty coming from the kitchen proving to be too much to ignore.

-x-

“Gordon, that’s my finger.”

“Oh, sorry, can you just like… I don’t know, yank it off?”

“If I wish to leave half my identifying fingerprints behind, yes.”

“Do you really need them?”

John didn’t dignify that with an answer, the look he threw at his brother communicated his thoughts perfectly.

“OK, OK, I’ll get some dissolver from Virgil’s studio, wait right there,” Gordon instructed him, grabbing his crutches and hobbling his way out of the room.

John sighed, keeping his hand perfectly still, the hull of the boat dangling from his fingertip. He was still there five minutes later when Gordon clumped his way back in, Selene hot on his heels. She had the glue dissolver under one arm, a large bag of chips under the other and a plate of sandwiches in each hand.

She dumped the plates on the desk, then the chips, before turning to see the state her fiancé was in.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Gordon winced, dropping down into his abandoned desk chair and reaching for a plate.

“Can you at least help me before you start stuffing your face?” John asked, waggling his hand, which made the boat sway violently from side to side.

“Can’t, eating,” Gordon mumbled around the massive mouthful he had just taken.

“What did I say?” she demanded to know. “No hurting the hands, you know how I feel about that.”

John wiggled his fingers again, drawing her attention to his plight. He looked so pathetic with the half built little ship swinging from his hand that Selene took pity on him, intervening when he looked like he was about to grab the thing and yank it off himself, fingerprints be damned.

“Oh for the love of the Gods, let me do it!” Taking his hand she used a paintbrush to smear glue dissolver around the area of skin it was stuck to. She took her time, rewetting and using the brush bristles to push the dissolver under the boat, trying to ease it free from his skin with minimal pulling.

“Thank you,” he sighed, sitting patiently while she worked. Thankfully it didn’t take her too long, although it took a lot of cursing under her breath and the odd ouch from him to get there.

“One boat,” she announced, placing it triumphantly on the desk.

“Fanks,” Gordon said, spraying chip crumbs as he did so.

“Welcome,” she said, brushing at her leg which had unfortunately been in splatter range. Still holding John’s hand she bestowed a kiss to each of his abused digits before releasing him.

“Right, I’m out of here. Play nicely, you two, I don’t want to have to send Grandma in to babysit you both.”

“It won’t come to that,” John assured her, reaching for his own sandwich. “We’ve not got much left to do now. We just have to attach the rigging to the masts, check that they fold properly then insert th-”

“I’m out, I don’t need to hear anything about insertion, not after you just glued a boat to your hand,” Selene declared, her exit swift and to the point, the door shutting firmly behind her.

“She has a point,” Gordon admitted, swallowing his last bite. He pushed the chip bag in John’s direction, although there was barely more than a handful and a few crumbs left in it.

“But we’ll never admit it to her face,” John insisted, steadily munching through the large sub she had brought for him.

“Never,” Gordon agreed.

-x-

Gordon sighed dramatically as he crutched his way down the hall from his bedroom. John’s bedroom door was open but his brother wasn’t inside. The ship, now fully rigged, sat beside the bottle on the desk, just waiting to be placed inside once some sand had been poured in as a base. Gordon had chosen all different shades of blue to represent the sea and had even watched a few videos on how to do sand pouring art, something he’d never expected to find even remotely interesting, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go in and make a start on it.

John had barely been home the past week and when he had it had only been for food and enforced sleep. Even then he had been known to sneak out of bed the second Selene was asleep, being discovered on numerous occasions sitting at their father’s desk until the small hours working on this, that or the other.

Emergencies, and therefore the need for their services, had seemed to increase three fold, something Selene was blaming on the moon phase and mercury going retrograde and, for want of a better explanation, they were all inclined to agree. There was no rhyme or reason for the surge in idiots that were calling in at all hours of the day and night with trucks caught under a too low bridge causing a pile up, hands stuck down toilets, drunks climbing to the top of electricity pylons and repair men getting trapped inside ATM machines they had been fixing.

His brothers had been on the go near constantly, whether it was from rescue call outs or working on their plan to find their father, but none more so than John. While Selene had always been good at what she liked to call Tracy Wrangling, none more so that when she was dealing with a stressed out Scott, even she had admitted defeat and left them to their own devices. Self preservation was key after all.

John had been dealing with not only rescue calls and Chaos Crew sightings, but signal tracking, GDF liaising and general hoop jumping, all of which had kept him far too busy.

It had been over a week since they had done anything to their project and Gordon was feeling the loss. Not so much of the project, although that really had helped with his frustrations at his lack of physical ability, not that he would ever admit that to John, but in spending time with his brother.

Much to his surprise he’d found that he was reluctant to work on it alone, it had become their thing to do together. It was a time where they would hang out, shoot the shit, reminisce about childhood memories, times that they had spent together talking about their hope for the future where they would find their father alive and bring him home.

Both of them knew that it wouldn’t be easy, that if they did manage to find him there would be no telling what physical or mental state he would be in. Gordon knew from experience just how tough physical injury, limitations, and recovery could be on the mind and the body, especially in someone who had been as active and viril as Jeff Tracy.

They all knew, although no one seemed to want to talk about it, that as hard as it was going to be to actually locate him and hopefully bring him home, that would only be the beginning of what could potentially be an incredibly long and difficult journey of rehabilitation and reintegration into the family and the world as a whole.

John had been right, taking some time to be quiet, to slow down and think while keeping your mind and hands busy really was a productive way to spend your rest hours and, stupid as it sounded, Gordon didn’t really want that to end.

He was only a week or two away from potential cast removal and a return to physical activities like his beloved swimming and strength training in their home gym and, while he couldn’t wait to get back to it, he knew he’d feel the loss of his enforced quiet time.

He glanced again at the abandoned ship on the desk and turned away, clumping down the hall towards the stairs. So it would take them a little longer to get it finished, Gordon was fine with that because for once he wasn’t feeling the need to rush.

-x-

“Remember to pour it slowly,” Gordon instructed as he held the funnel in place, its long pipe reaching right down into the bottom of the jar. “Start with the darkest one, that’s going to be our base colour.”

“I’ve got it,” John assured him, selecting the tub of midnight blue sand and scooping some out into a smaller pot to make things easier. At Gordon’s nod he began to slowly and steadily pour the sand into the open neck of the funnel. As he watched Gordon expertly directed the tube, allowing the sand to pour out to pool in the bottom of the bottle.

At Gordon’s signal John stopped pouring and waited while Gordon carefully removed the tube and used a long metal skewer to poke and prod the sand into something that looked vaguely like waves.

“The next colour up,” Gordon requested and John did as he was asked. They repeated the process four more times with different shades of blue, John pouring in a little at a time, Gordon directing the tube to deposit more in one place than others, mimicking the movement of sea waves as best they could. In between each layer Gordon used the skewer to poke and mix the colours here and there, blending the layers into a smoother transition.

“That’ll do,” Gordon said confidently, twisting the bottle so John could see the full effect.

John had to admit that he had been pleasantly surprised when Gordon had announced that he had ordered some coloured sand and looked up how to do sand art on the internet. He hadn’t really known what to expect, although he would admit, if only to himself, that he had thought that Gordon would be a little heavy handed and impatient, but once again he had proved him wrong. He really had done his research and the result was a beautiful mix of colours that really did give a perfect impression of a gently moving sea.

“That’s looking great.”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, modest as always. “Where’s that resin gone?”

“Here,” John answered, pushing it across the desk towards his brother. “Make sure you read the instructions and measure the amounts accurately or it won’t set and you’ll ruin the sand and the bottle.”

“Yeah, yeah I got this,” Gordon assured him as he did indeed read the instructions through properly. Once he had familiarised himself with the ratio of resin to hardener, he measured carefully and poured them into a mixing jug. Once it was fully mixed he slowly, gently, poured the mixture a little at a time into the bottle on top of the sand. With each little pour he waited for the resin to trickle down between the grains, slowly adding to it until all the sand was covered.

“And now we wait,” John said, carefully placing the bottle in the patch of bright sunlight coming in through the window.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Gordon offered casually, not really expecting his brother to agree. John hardly ever watched anything with just him, they had vastly different tastes in movies and John usually made some polite excuse to escape.

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Really?” Gordon goggled, his eyes almost falling out of his head. “You don’t have anything more important to do?”

“More important than watching a movie with my little brother? I don’t think so,” John grinned, retrieving Gordon’s crutches from where they were leaning against his bookshelf and tossing them to him one by one. “Come on, last one to the lounge picks the movie.”

“Hey, no fair!” Gordon yelled, scrambling to his feet as he fumbled with his crutches. “You’ve got legs like a giraffe and neither of them are broken!”

“Sucks to be you,” John tossed over his shoulder as he took off down the hall to victory.

-x-

“Careful,” John warned.

“I am being careful,” Gordon snapped. “I got this.”

“Your hand’s shaking.”

“Thanks for that, Captain Obvious.” He steadied his, only slightly shaky, hand by propping his elbow on the desk for stability. “OK, let’s do this.”

They both held their breath as Gordon maneuvered the body of the boat through the opening in the bottle, making sure each sail stayed carefully folded down and the strings remained untangled before he fed it down the neck and into the bottle.

“Phase one, complete,” John intoned in such a serious voice that Gordon couldn’t help the laugh that he snorted out.

“Pass me those long nosed tweezers?” Gordon asked, holding out a hand.

John slapped the requested instrument into his brother's hand like a nurse in an operating theater, provoking another burst of laughter.

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

Making sure the strings of the sails were still dangling outside of the bottle, Gordon carefully moved the body of the boat further down into the bottle with the metal skewer until the stern touched the top of the resin and sand layer.

“Now the sails,” Gordon whispered, hardly daring to breathe as John moved in to help, taking over the holding of the strings while Gordon reached in with the tweezers.

Gently, working together, they started the delicate process of tugging gently on each string, unfolding the paper sails and locking them in place.

“String one.”

“Got it. Watch number four sail.”

“Yep, thanks...OK… can you just give string five a little pull? Perfect.”

“Sail three is flopping!”

“Gah, hang on, just got to tighten that...yep that’s got it.”

“Maybe if I gather…”

“Yep, that’s good, do that again.”

“This next bit is going to require a delicate touch, maybe I should-”

“Hey! I can be delicate!”

“It’s not coming up...back sail two is stuck, release it...careful!”

“There, saved it.”

John gently pulled the strings a little more and there it was, their ship, sails proudly upright and everything. He kept hold of the strings, while Gordon held on to the boat with the tweezers as they carefully lifted the bottle from its side to its proper upright position.

Using the skewer John maneuvered around Gordon’s hand and nudged the boat into a better position before he carefully released the strings. They both held their breath, hoping and praying that the sails wouldn't collapse the second the strings fell.

The boat, with its sails, stayed strong.

“Yes!” Gordon cheered, holding up his free hand for a high five, grinning when his brother’s palm smacked against his own.

“Scalpel,” Gordon joked as John handed it to him so they could lop off a little of the trailing strings. Then, using the skewer, they arranged the strings around the edges of the boat.

With the boat finally upright and in place, they added another layer of light blue coloured sand with a sprinkling of white to mimic the tips of the waves. They finished it off by pouring in a little more resin, both to set the sand and hold the boat in place, using the tweezers to make sure it was correctly positioned.

“Phew,” Gordon breathed, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his cast covered leg. “We did it. Go team.”

“We did,” John smiled. “And it looks damn good.”

“It really does,” Gordon agreed, shifting his head to look at the bottle from all angles.

“Nothing left to do but let it dry and put the stopper in,” John said. “How do you feel now it’s done? Was it worth the time?”

“I still think we could have done it a lot faster if you’d just let me skip a few steps in the instructions and do it my way, but it wasn’t that bad,” Gordon admitted. “I’m oddly proud of it.”

“You should be, you did good,” John leant back in his chair, crossing his arms as he relaxed. “Are you going to stop teasing me about my book nooks now?”

“Pssh, no,” Gordon snorted. “Ships are cool, yours will always be boring.”

He didn’t see the bottle of water coming until it was too late.

-x-

Gordon walked straight to John’s room from the infirmary, feeling oddly free without his crutches and casts. Six weeks was a long time, after all.

The bottle with its little ship sat exactly where they had left it in the center of John’s desk next to the abandoned book nook that was still not finished. It took him very little time to insert the cork stopper and pour a little of Selene’s spell bottle sealing wax around the top, a bright, cheery yellow wax that matched his beloved Thunderbird Four.

He smiled as he thought of his little craft, waiting down in her dock for him, ready to be taken out when the next call came in. It had been a long and frustrating time but finally, blessedly, that time was over.

He poked an experimental finger into the wax seal, checking that it had set properly. It had, and he couldn’t help feeling a little sad about it. It had been a project that at first he’d had very little interest in, but slowly it had turned into so much more. Not just something to wile away a few hours but a chance for him to reconnect with the brother he spent the least amount of time with.

Years ago, back when he had been small, John had been his everything. When Alan had been too tiny to be of any use and Scott and Virgil had been too old to be bothered with him hanging around, it had been John that had been there for him. It was John that had patiently listened as he read aloud from his sealife books, who had watched movies with him, played with him, and spent the most amount of time with him. Back then, their three year age difference had seemed like so little but so much at the same time, an older brother that made him feel wanted and included when the other two saw him as an annoyance.

Gordon couldn’t quite put his finger on when things had changed, when they had slowly drifted apart. John had seemed to grow up so much faster than he had, Alan had welded himself to his side, looking up to Gordon as he had to John and things had never been the same again.

It had been too long since they had been able to just hang out, to laugh, to tease each other without things going too far and one of them getting annoyed. It had been nice and Gordon had realised that he didn’t want to go back to nothing but hollocalls to Five when an emergency came in or the odd family dinner and movie night where he had to share with the rest of the family. John was the only brother that Gordon didn’t spend one on one time with as standard and he realised that, no matter how much he might blame it on John being so far away, in reality it was as much his fault as John’s.

Gordon picked up the bottle, leaving a box in its place. The model kit of the Mercury Project space capsule and its launch pad had been hard to find even with his junker contacts. In fact, he had almost given up and admitted defeat before he'd thought to look at the label on his ship box and sent the shop owner an email.

Smiling to himself, knowing that there was no way John would be able to resist that challenge, he took the finished bottle, with its little ship, to his room where it would take pride of place on his bookshelf, a constant reminder that even in the worst of times, positivity could still be found.

“Thanks, Bro.”

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #TAG Mini Bang 2021 #TAGMiniBang2021

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thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

A Blanc Slate, Chapter 3

7. Secrets

Oh how the dirty laundry was hung out to dry in the week after the Agreste Mansion fire.

Apparently, the corpse of Gabriel Agreste’s wife was kept preserved underneath the mansion. Which, of course, brought on all the questions of how and why she was there, followed by questions pertaining to Gabriel Agreste’s sanity and even more questions as to why he did it.

Unfortunately, the only person who knew was dead.

Early reports said that it was likely he suffocated in the fire. However, the coroner’s report came out recently saying that there was evidence of an altercation: a fractured arm, a few broken ribs, and a cracked skull. Due to the autopsy report, it was suspected Gabriel was dead before the fire broke out. However, with the crime scene as they knew it had been burned to the ground, along with any clues that could have lead to a more solid answer.

Marinette, Alya, and Nino had done everything they could to reach out to Adrien, but he refused. “Sorry, I just need some time,” was his go-to excuse. His other being, “I’m not feeling great.”

Nino hated it, but he still wanted to be a bro and respect Adrien’s wishes. Alya would have had no problem going over, busting down the door, and forcing a check-in, but Nino kept his girlfriend in check.

Egged on by Alya behind the scenes, Marinette decided that she was going to do that.

Well… maybe minus the “breaking down the door” part. She’d just insistently knock.

With a bag full of baked goods and a container of soup, she headed over. She’d been experimenting with this soup for his birthday, trying to replicate a recipe from his favorite café to surprise him with. But she thought now would be a good time to share it with him. Chat had even given it a good mark in his own way, so she was sure it would make Adrien happy.

Upon arriving at his new place—the address had been the one thing she’d been able to drag out of Nino—she knocked a couple times before waiting. When he didn’t answer, she knocked again. If he didn’t answer after this one, she’d give him a call.

However, she heard the lock on the door click and put on her best smile. “Hey, Adri—Oh, my gosh, how’d you get that black eye?!”

The expression he gave her clearly stated he didn’t want to talk about it while also regretting worrying her. “Don’t tell Nino. Or Alya. Please.”

“What happened, though!”

His lips pursed, curling downwards at the edges. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She nearly stamped her foot on the ground because that made two of the most important men in her life who refused to let her in. However, she couldn’t force anything. Instead, she asked, “Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth, but words seemed to catch in his throat for a moment. “I will be.”

“Adrien.”

With a sigh, he reached out to pat her head. “I appreciate that you care, Marinette,” he began. “But really, don’t worry about it, okay?”

She didn’t want to give him time. She wanted to fix it. She wanted to be able to do something, anything, for her boys. But she couldn’t if they kept keeping secrets like this.

With a sigh, she relented, unable to do anything else. “Okay.”

He stroked her hair, and if she wasn’t so damn worried, her heart might have fluttered at the action. “Thank you,” he said before pulling his hand away. “So, was that the only reason you came by? To check in on me?”

“It was either me or Alya.”

His smile was sheepish. “I’d rather have you. Alya scares me.”

His grin seemed weary, but it was still enough to put Marinette at ease and a smile on her own face. “She’s pretty pissed. Nino’s also really worried about you. Maybe you should give him a call.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, and only then did she realize the hand he’d been so good at hiding behind the door this whole time was wrapped heavily in bandages

“Adrien!”

He jumped at her voice, taking a step back, but Marinette was quick. She grabbed his arm before he could hide it again. “How’d you get this? Oh, wait, ‘you don’t want to talk about it’?”

He groaned. “I got into a little argument with my dad last week, came home and hit the wall. I don’t think I broke anything, but it still hurts.”

Marinette sighed. “Damn it, Adrien. Why didn’t you tell us? We could have been there to support you.”

Adrien turned his head away, refusing to look at her. “I… I just needed some time alone, okay? There was a lot on my mind. Please, just drop it.”

“Okay,” she caved. He was already talking with her now, as opposed to pushing her away again, so she would meet him halfway and stop arguing. “Do you want a croissant? Maybe some soup? Or you’ve got a sweet tooth. Maybe a cookie?”

Adrien looked somewhat surprised by the change of subject, but soon, he relaxed in relief. “I wouldn’t mind a cookie.”

She gave him a smile, one she had to force a bit to be brighter than it was. “Okay. I thought you would.”

8. Princess and Knight

The knock on her balcony door could only be one person.

Rather, one cat.

With a grin, Marinette rushed to answer her trap door. “Chat Noir. How nice of you to come see me.”

He looked rather stoic. “I’m not ‘Noir’ anymore.”

“You’ll always be Chat Noir,” she gently countered. “You just happen to look a little different at the moment.”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to continue their conversation. He then handed the bag in his hand over to her. “Here. The clothes you leant me. Washed and clean. And a little extra ‘thank you’ gift for your kindness before.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at the bag. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to get me anything.”

Chat just shrugged.

Looking at the bag, Marinette hesitated to take it. She had wondered if Chat would appear before her or if he’d just drop the bag and run. Now, she feared he’d bolt the moment she took the bag from his hand, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Impulsively, she reached past the bag to grab hold of his wrist. “Come inside for a minute. Let me get you some cookies for the road.”

His brow scrunched together, showing his hesitancy.

She shot him her best smile, going as far as batting her eyes at him, a technique her friends had forced her to learn a few years ago in an attempt to get Adrien’s attention. “Please, Chat? I’m sure you’d like a treat?”

He sighed. “Thank you, princess, but I’ll decline.”

“Aww, really? I can’t convince you to stay a moment?”

“No.”

“Wow. That was cold.”

Chat stood, trying to remove her hand from his, and though he was trying to be firm, he wasn’t being overly forceful. “I came to thank you, not to linger on your kindness any more.”

“But what if I want you to linger in my kindness.”

He scoffed. “Why would you bother?”

“Because I care about you?”

“You barely know me.”

Oh, kitty, I know you better than you could fathom. “So?”

“So, I took advantage of your kindness once—”

“Do it again.”

The words that came so easily out of her mouth had clearly startled him. Frankly, they surprised her a little, too, but those words also allowed her a moment to crawl fully out of the hatch and stand right before him. “I don’t mind. In fact, I want to.”

Chat looked at her, exhaustion lingering behind the stoniness in his eyes. “Princess, you’re killing me here.”

She tightened her grip, leaning closer. “Good. Maybe I can offer you a little break away from your world.”

“Who said I needed one?”

“You’re still white, and you’re not in a signature smile. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong.”

His brow furrowed, eyes hardening, yet he didn’t pull away.

And she wasn’t going to surrender, either.

The stare down lasted a good many seconds, neither moving or backing down.

“Are you trying to seduce me, princess?” he eventually asked, the slightest edge of teasing in his tone while the corner of his lips quirked upwards.

Her heart could soar at the sight. “So what if I am?”

He flashed her a fake roguish grin, leaning closer in what she quickly realized was an attempt to coax her backwards. “I’d say there’s only room for one flirt in this town, and it sure won’t be you.”

She stood her ground, knowing that if she wasn’t careful, she’d fall right through her trapdoor. Which was likely his plan and why he’d just started flirting. She knew him too well by now to know his flirting was a cover-up. Always had been, and always would be.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t also wreck her heart when he stopped the flirting and pulled a genuine romantic gesture. It always wrecked her heart when he stood with his heart bared to her. And maybe over time, those gestures built up love for him in her own heart. And maybe that’s why she stood here so adamantly now, unwilling to let him go.

“Oh?” she flirted back, trying to channel her ‘inner Chat’. “How would you know? Maybe I’m better.”

“I doubt that. This cat has worked hard and purr-fecting his technique to make the ladies swoon.”

She hummed. “You pull out all the stops on Ladybug, don’t you?”

It was as though she’d doused him with cold water, because all teasing disappeared in an instant.

Her regret level was high, but at the same time, she wasn’t even sure what she’d said to change the mood so fast. “Chat?”

He sighed, pulling away and shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing,” she countered.

“It is,” he firmly stated. “And don’t think otherwise.”

Biting her lip, Marinette wracked her brain for how to possibly coerce him into talking. “Something wrong with Ladybug?” she asked, reaching out to grab his other hand. “Because I haven’t see—”

“Ahh!”

In a flash, Chat ripped both his hands from hers and cradled his left hand close to his chest.

Her gut sank. “You’re hurt?”

He grit his teeth. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

His ears sank in shame for a moment. “Let it go, Marinette,” he snipped, already taking steps backwards and away. “I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not. What happ—”

“Does it get tiring?”

His eyes took on a hard edge to them, and that was the moment she knew she screwed up. “What?”

“Trying to weasel into my business,” he challenged.

“How was I weaseling?”

“I’m a grown man. I don’t need you mothering me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t if you weren’t hurt.”

The moment those words left her mouth, Marinette regretted it. Instead, her consequence was watching Chat’s expression harden, eyes glinting like the edge of a knife.

“Who do you think you are?”

She flinched at the harshness of his tone.

“You’re not Ladybug,” he hissed. “We barely know each other. Why are you so damn worked up over me getting hurt?”

Because I am your lady, dammit! But she couldn’t say that. And without that, she wasn’t fully sure what to say. “Can’t I care about you at all without my motives being questioned?”

“I don’t need your help, Marinette!” he shouted. “So, stop trying to fix things and let me take care of my own business! You don’t have any idea what I’m facing—"

“Of course I don’t! You know why?” Marinette felt something snap in her at his words, and her own feelings came tumbling out before she could stop them. “Because you’re a knight with a martyr complex who thinks he has to bear the weight of the world alone on his own shoulders. I’m no princess, Chat, and neither is Ladybug. So why is it impossible for you to let either of us help you? Do you not trust Ladybug to help you? Do you think she’s incapable? Do you hate working with her that much?”

“I love her more than you could ever imagine!” he shouted, shocking her so badly she had to take a step back to steady herself. “She is incredibly strong and capable, and don’t you dare do her the injustice of stating otherwise. But that is exactly why I’m keeping her out of this. What I’m facing is personal, and it’s something I need to do on my own. You wouldn’t understand and don’t even try to. You’re an outsider here, Marinette. Stop trying to pretend you’re the superhero here and micro-manage everything about someone you don’t even know!”

And with that, Chat whipped out his baton, and Marinette was left watching a white ghost float over the rooftops of Paris, further and further away until he finally disappeared.

9. Blanket

The night wasn’t chilly, but she still had a blanket draped over her shoulders as she stood out on her balcony. It had been a week since the little altercation between her and Chat, and she regretted so many things she said and how she handled the whole situation.

Chat was hurting, and while she had been prying, she’d also gone against his wishes to do so. He had shut himself off, and instead of just being a safe spot he could land with no questions asked, she’d pushed and pressed and prodded any way she could to get information out of him. In her defense, she had only wanted to help as well as try to keep her cat around so he wouldn’t run again.

But a trapped cat doesn’t submit easily, she supposed. Especially one with as much fight in them as Chat Noir had.

So, she wanted to apologize, even though she knew it was unlikely he’d come around again. And who knew if she’d see him again. He said he’d see Ladybug at least one more time to give up his miraculous, but she didn’t want to wait until then to see him again. Though, the longer she stood out here on the balcony with no sign of Chat on the horizon at all, she thought that might be her only chance.

If it was, then she had to be careful not to squander it. Let this be her lesson, and let it be her only one because she really couldn’t afford to make a mistake on her last chance.

“Marinette,” Tikki said, flying up to rest on her shoulder. “It’s past midnight. You should really come inside and go to bed.”

She didn’t want to, but there really wasn’t any other choice. Chat wasn’t coming, and she knew it. “Okay.”

#miraculous ladybug #marichatmay2021 #marichat #chat blanc #more angst #bear with me #it will get better

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aobakukkii · 4 years

Text

Wanna hold hands?

Bokuto x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Bad jokes

Male Reader

Word Count: 1748

✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬

You shouldn't have to worry about this. You shouldn't act like a 12 year old walking next to his first crush... Wait were your feelings actually much different?

Anyway Bokuto and you decided to go to a Christmas Market together to fulfill some foodie dreams of yours and only a few minutes separated you from your date destination. Well it wasn't one officially, but this couldn't stop you from dreaming, because all hope for not hopelessly pining on the owl boy was gone for a long time. So it was only natural to indulge in your feelings.

Bokuto and you first met on a mutual friends hang out in a park many months ago. Just after you arrived however, your friend who came a bit earlier soon volunteered for the "Oh f*ck we don't have anything... Let's get some drinks!" group mission to the nearest supermarket which left you awkwardly standing at the sidelines. Two small groups had already formed, involved in whatever topic they were talking about and you being to shy to disturb anyone just played with your phone for awhile. At least until a guy way too big to go unnoticed plopped up besides you.

"Hey you're friends with f/n aren't ya? My name is Koutarou."

You just nodded for the first statement "I'm y/n" you quietly responded.

"Oh cool where did you meet them?"

Introducing yourself was normally an incredibly awkward situation, but somehow it felt natural with this guy. He kept a flow of conversation, getting to know your daily responsibilities and hobbies among other things. It didn't feel forced or like he just wanted someone to yak at or anything, he kept everything on a level that made you feel comfortable although you barely knew him, except for the few things he mentioned like his huge interest in volleyball.

The spiky haired boy was genuinely interested in anything you told him and even hyped some of your interests as well.

With him you were more or less smoothly introduced back into the (luckily) small group he left earlier and despite the fact that you felt uncomfortable with all the attention of the others in the beginning, his huge presence while talking quickly took this burden away from you. For socializing with new people, it was an incredibly alright experience.

As it turned dark he offered you to join them go and play video games at his place and even if you would have normally declined such a request from new people, "Yes" felt just right.

Looking back at it now, the massive amount of praise you received from Bokuto for your skill made the decision even better. Especially when the praise came from a guy who would deserve the title pro himself.

In general Bokuto became your hype man in no time. You could just breath and he would still be like "Yas that's my boy!".

This wasn't anything special in particular, he was supportive of the people around him and especially his friends, but to you his intensity towards felt special. He made you feel special. And now you wanted to be his special one and make him feel just as special and happy as he made you.

However you were worried that you misread his kindness towards you. Because he really treated everyone that he liked amazing, that's just the kind of person he is. This big chunk of love called Bokuto's heart is the reason why you fell for him, but it was also was where all your anxieties came from.

Back to the present at hand, Bokuto's hand was what you were drawn to in particular. You never wanted to grab anything that badly in your life. The thought of holding his hand made you all giddy.

Focusing on it was another challenge you had to face, since that guy swung his arms around a lot when he was excited to go somewhere, which happened quite often. Luckily, he was focused on the story he was telling you and looking at the illuminations so your starring went unnoticed.

That until one of his swings touched your arm and more importantly, your hand.

"Oh sorry I wasn't paying attention" Bokuto laughed. He stopped his movements and slowed down his step a bit.

"It's fine" you giggled to hide your massive inner panic. His hand just touched yours!

"Hey hey hey we should focus more on the lights there! You see those around the tree over there? They remind me of your eyes bro."

You just hummed and mumbled a silent "thanks" in response, being blessed with the chance to look towards the lights on your right to hide your face from him.

Stuff like this wasn't usually included in the all-inclusive hype man package for you. And it made your cheeks heat up even more than his usual compliments. In the past Bokuto loved to tell you that you were cute, saying that you're shy reaction to the compliment just made you even cuter.

Honestly Bokuto crossed the line to teasing hype man a long time ago and threw really flattering stuff at you like spikes at the opponent in a game whenever he felt like it, but this was a first. He never said anything directly about your looks. In fact you never heard him point out anyone's looks like that. You heard "handsome" and "pretty", but never something specific.

"I mean it, I never saw someone whose eyes were sparkling like yours."

This was straight up flirting at this point.

You hid your face behind your hand, still looking away.

"Kou seriously stop it."

"Can't help it if it's true."

You knew Bokuto was good in reading you, but you thought your crush and the insecurities with it were a secret. At least until now. This setting, this compliment, the smooth delivery. You were maybe anxious about the topic of love, but not that dense. This was his sign that you were special to him.

He did his part, so now it was time to do something yourself.

A mix of the compliments' confidence boost, your newfound view on his feelings and the still present panic and shyness robbing you of the ability to think or act like a normal human being, you drew the most genius conclusion you had in a while. If you swing your arm a bit and touch his hand again and again, he might read you once again and notice your wish to hold hands and you guys can live happily ever after.

"100% risk free strategy dude" you thought to yourself.

A comfortable silence was in the air as you continued your walk. You could already see the market, but it was still far enough away to be heard clearly. Bokuto was admiring the view around you, the illuminations being his favorite part of each December.

You tried to give it a shot. You slightly swung your arm and hit his hand with yours, so slightly that it just seemed like something that would happen normally.

Bokuto didn't react in the slightest and you were not sure if he even noticed it, but you weren't giving up just yet. Your childish tactic deserved some testing before being discarded. So you did it again with the same force and the same result. Time to step up your game.

You planned on a slightly increased force for the next one, which your body executed as "Tackle that hand like it's a Rattata." A now fainted Rattata at that, because Bokuto suddenly stopped walking and looked directly at your face. You had just enough time to conclude that you can't read his expression at all before avoiding your face. Your mind worked on a quick list on of how often you should apologize for this awkward moment, hoping that he would interpret it as a mistake. Judging by his face and the awkward pause right now however, he noticed what you were going for, which was honestly impressive from this stupid plan. You really wanted to apologize right away, hoping that the embarrassing gesture didn't ruin your chances with him.

Before you could say a word however, you saw a big hand around yours. You couldn't possibly believe your eyes, if not for the squeeze you felt and a small motion upwards, bringing your face to a happy and slightly pink Bokuto.

"Geez all I wanted was a small confirmation from you before starting anything, but I didn't think you would be the type to go all the way" he said his voice although more quiet than his usual one still matched the grin on his face. "You could have asked as well you know?"

"I just... Didn't feel like it?" you laughed between your words, being overwhelmed by the sudden confession.

Bokuto quickly pulled you to the side of the street, not wanting to accidentally block the path of anyone else right now and to give the two of you a tiny bit of more privacy.

"Y/n I really wanted to confess to you for a long long time, but I didn't dare to say anything before I could be sure that you were interested." He started rocking your arms slightly.

"When I have my moods and try to hide from the world, you're the first to come to seek me and pull me back up again. When I'm loud, you're the one who listens to my rambling anyway. I discovered so many cool games and shows thanks to you and, most importantly, I can count on you whenever I'm at my low and my highs. You make me feel special y/n, and I really didn't want to destroy that without a clear sign of you feeling the same way."

The rocking stops as he slowly starts to stroke your hand with his thumb.

"This wasn't the one I expected, but again that makes you special. Just like you make me feel." he chuckled. "Man I can't really explain it, can I just show you?"

His unoccupied hand pressed against you back, pulling you closer to his body. You were glad that he took the lead from here on because you were complete lost in the moment. He bent down to capture your lips with his. It was bit clumsy due to your excitement, but still sweet and it definitely showed what Bokuto intended.

You pulled away with flushed faces, both unable to hide your smile.

"This is what I had in mind"

✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬✬

AN: So this completely self-indulgent fic is actually based on two dreams I had. When I already dream like in Fan-fictions, I might as well write them.

Feedback would be highly appreciated. Thank you for reading ❤️

#bokuto x reader #bokuto x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #bokuto #koutarou bokuto #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq #bokuto imagines

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: sexually explicit content, oral (f receiving), public sex, filmed sex, watching porn w the bros, fingering, jk being a little shit, voyeurism, mxm, dom!jk but also sub!jk because we love the duality, orgasm control, handjob, camming : )

also please be aware, further down there is a link to a 4 second clip from twitter that inspired one of the scenes. that’s what the link is, it’s not hugely graphic but please use your discretion.

DAY TWO

It’s almost midday by the time you wake up. From outside your bedroom, the faint echoes of conversation remind you of just where you’d gone to sleep the night before. Of what you’d done the night before.

You dress quickly in some jean shorts and a loose shirt, wincing at the slight twinge between your legs, a welcome ache for what pleasure it had brought you. In the hallway upstairs, the collective hum of conversation is clearer, and you follow it down the stairs and to the kitchen, where six of the seven men are sharing breakfast at the dining table together, two waiting places still remaining.

You take the seat between Jungkook and Yoongi when the younger man greets you first, eyes wide as he pats the space. The other men glance up, conversations drifting off to greet you good morning.

The seat directly across from you is empty, Taehyung and Jimin at the chairs adjacent while Hoseok and Namjoon take the heads of the table. “Where’s Jin?” you ask in surprise.

“Jin?” Hoseok questions with a salacious smile. “Judging by the noises Jimin heard last night, you were the one who saw him last."

Your cheeks heat, and though you want to curl up in embarrassment, you can't help your eyes from automatically darting over to Jimin.

In a loose silk shirt the same gunmetal silver as the cutlery, Jimin's blue hair stands out even more than usual, as well as the smokey eyeshadow that frames his intense stare.

"I'm sorry," you say awkwardly. "I- Well, I guess that'll probably be a regular occurrence one way or another."

"Keeping me up at night with your shameless moaning?" he questions with a raised brow.

Out of everyone at the table staring at you, it's his gaze which burns at your cheeks the most, making you drop his gaze, eyes down on the empty plate in front of you. "I meant more, um, having sex in general, since that's the point of the show. But... sorry."

"Just try and be quieter next time," Jungkook suggests cheerily from beside you. The other members laugh, resuming their conversations or going back for more breakfast, but Jungkook's attention lingers on you for a moment longer, before he stands up abruptly.

"Jungkookie, where are you going?" Taehyung calls out, twisting in his chair to watch as Jungkook steps into the kitchen, disappearing through the open door of the walk-in pantry. Jungkook doesn't answer, but the rummaging sounds of plastic give his purpose away.

"Wow," Yoongi drawls with an unimpressed frown, "I prepare all this food for you and he still needs to go fossicking for more."

The attention sufficiently off you, you lean in to Yoongi's side. "I'm just going to grab a drink from the kitchen, do you want anything?"

Yoongi shakes his head distractedly, more focused on buttering every last edge of the toast in his hand. Getting up, you let the blood finally leave your cheeks and your heart rate slow down. No point worrying about something you couldn't really help.

In the kitchen, you can see easily across to the dining table, Taehyung's and Jimin's backs to you as you look through the refrigerator for something to drink.

The options are decently impressive, and you stare indecisively that the fridge beeps at you for being left open too long. Settling on some milk to make coffee, you turn and almost drop the carton at what greets you.

Crouched below the kitchen island innocuously, out of view of the boys, is Jungkook, grinning toothily at you, with a finger to his mouth in the universal 'be quiet' signal.

Your eyes widen, but as you look out across the bench to the dining room, nobody has noticed. Biting your lip, you grab a mug, turn the electric jug on and slowly walk over to where he is, standing so that his bent knees brush your shins.

Though nobody is paying you a lick of attention, you pretend to drop a spoon onto the ground before dropping below the level of the bench yourself, face-to-face with Jungkook.

"What are you doing?" you hiss quietly, the sound barely louder than your lips moving.

"You have to practice being quiet," he says cheekily. "So let me eat you out while you make some coffee."

"You're crazy," you whisper, but your eyes are entranced by the tip of his tongue as he licks his lips. "Fuck, okay."

Ignoring his shiteating grin of victory, you grab the teaspoon and stand up again, reaching for the jar of coffee crystals. A minute sigh leaves your mouth when nimble fingers run up your thigh, over your shorts and begin fiddling with the button. Fuck, were you really doing this?

"Y/n?"

Your eyes dart up, fearing you've been caught, but Hoseok is smiling at you unawares, pointing at the jar in your hands.

"Could you make me a cup too? I can come get it-"

"No," you blurt, swallowing as Jungkook's hands don't falter, reaching around to grasp at the meat of your ass from inside your shorts. "I'm already up, I don't mind."

You inhale through your nose as Jungkook flicks the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh, voice a low murmur that only you can hear. "Selfish girl, ask if the others want a coffee too," he instructs.

Your head feels funny, a combination of dizzy and hyper-focused. "Does anyone else want a cup too? It's just the instant stuff."

You get a few moments break from Jungkook's roaming hands for the time it takes you to go fetch three more mugs, Namjoon and Yoongi also wanting a drink. The second you step back to the kitchen island, however, it's like the boy is making up for lost time.

Without hesitation he's undoing the button and the zip, pulling your shorts and panties down to your knees, a hand pushing your leg open wider so it doesn't drop to the floor.

Fully bared, you bite down harshly on your tongue, shaky fingers undoing the top of the jar as a hot mouth descends upon you, devouring you like it's his last meal.

Jungkook is good with his tongue, but he's merciless, not holding back even as he has to grip onto your knees to stop them from buckling.

You feel unbelievably exposed, and with the casual stream of conversation continuing on just a few metres away, every touch feels electrified. Out of all the guys, Jungkook's hair is the longest, and you can feel it tickling your thighs and lower abdomen, a strong arm wrapping around to hold you close to him.

Though it's definitely far too quiet for the others to hear, the faintest sound of slurping feels like thunder in your ears, and as he sucks at your folds, tongue driving in deep inside you like he's licking the inside of a wrapper, you press your lips together to hold back a moan.

Getting spoonfuls of ground coffee into each of the four mugs is a game of its own when long, narrow fingers find their way inside you, three at once slipping in your pussy, still stretched out from last night.

Clearly knowing thrusting them would be too loud, Jungkook instead just crooks them inside you, dragging them over your g-spot like he's coaxing an orgasm out of you.

You focus on your task, letting the challenge of not spilling the dark powder anchor you, but all too soon the sound of the electric kettle reaching boiling point fills the room, and you know that once you reach over and pour the drinks, there's really no other reason for you to be standing at the bench, and you couldn't exactly go back with your shorts around your ankles and Jungkook lapping up your juices enthusiastically.

The ding of the kettle gets the attention of those wanting coffee, and you send them a weak smile as you reach for it, holding the handle with one hand and each mug with the other, relaxing in relief as Jungkook pauses his assault while you're handling the boiling water.

Once the jug goes back in its place, you begin to stir the drinks as slow as you can possibly manage, Jungkook returning his ministrations with a vengeance, sucking harshly at your clit and slipping a fourth finger into you, still curling his fingers in a beckoning motion, stretching at your walls deliciously and rubbing over your g-spot every time.

You're breathing heavily, you know you are, but you tell yourself that it least it isn't moaning out loud.

Still waiting, Hoseok glances up. "Y/n, are you okay?" You nod hastily, a clipped moan escaping in place of a yes, but he's not convinced. "You can't carry all four mugs by yourself, I'll come take two."

"N-no," you defend lowly, cursing internally as your orgasm approaches even faster with eyes on you, the arousal of danger running through your veins like liquid sex.

Hoseok doesn't listen, getting up and jogging over. Behind him, the other boys are starting to get concerned too, frowning at the way you gasp for breath, eyes lidded.

"Shoot, Y/n, are you alright?" Namjoon asks, voice strained with worry. "You look like you're about to pass out."

Your head feels blurry as the realisation hits you: you're going to orgasm in front of them all, while they're waiting for their morning coffee.

As Hoseok approaches, he reaches out for the mugs, but his hands freeze halfway. The bench is only around the level of your waist, so there's no doubt in his mind that at this distance he can see Jungkook's head between your legs.

Rather than looking at Hoseok's face, you make the mistake of glancing down, and it's the obscene sight of Jungkook's head of black locks bobbing between your legs that sends you over the edge.

"What is she- Y/n?"

Your knees buckle but Jungkook keeps you steady, so you lean forward instead, covering your face with your hands as a powerful orgasm rocks through you, the moans impossible to hold back as Jungkook gives up on being quiet, fucking you through the orgasm with his fingers and tongue.

"How good is that coffee?"

"It's not the coffee, Tae."

"...Oh."

Once the white behind your eyelids settle, you let out a weak embarrassed moan, hearing the self-satisfied chuckle of Jungkook beneath you, licking you clean and lifting your shorts and panties, dressing you like nothing had ever happened.

Though of course, every single person in the room just watched you have an orgasm in the kitchen, and there was no pretending like nothing had happened.

Ignoring the loud buzz of confusion at the table, and the awkward cough of Hoseok as he took three mugs to the table, you bat away Jungkook's hands and sink down, sitting on the floor with your back to the island bench, face in your hands still.

"I can't fucking believe you did that," you pant out morosely, your pussy still clenching rhythmically with aftershocks of pleasure.

Jungkook licks his lips like the cat that got the cream. "You loved it," he retorts. "Did you think I wouldn't notice that you came the moment Hoseok noticed what was going on?"

"Fuck you."

"You didn't even have to," he chimes cheerily, standing up and going to join the others shamelessly.

You take a few more moments to compose yourself, letting Jungkook take most of the heat. Once the jibes begin to settle and your legs don't feel so wobbly, you stand up again and grab the remaining cup of coffee, taking a sip and making your way back to the table with flushed cheeks.

"So, we're just gonna pretend like that didn't happen?" Taehyung asks in bewilderment.

"I would prefer if you did, yes," you answer calmly, reaching out for a slice of cold toast.

He blinks. "Okay."

For a few blissful moments, the seven of you return to your normal conversations, Jungkook resting a smug hand on your thigh as he chats away happily.

"Morning!" a sing-song voice calls out, and you all glance up to see Seokjin arriving, broad grin on his face.

After a moment, Taehyung lets out a yawn and the spell is broken, everyone going back to what they were doing before.

Visibly disappointed, Seokjin's shoulders sink. "Morning," he repeats again insistently. "Is no one gonna ask how I slept? Or what I did last night? Seriously?"

"That's old news, hyung," Taehyung explains matter-of-factly.

"How can it be old news already? I only just got up."

"And you missed a lot," Jungkook replies. "Besides, hyung, I'm worried about your diet. It tastes like you aren't eating enough leafy greens."

In the chaos that ensues, you couldn't tell who goes redder - you, or Seokjin.

----

“It’s kinda strange now that I’m here,” Hoseok comments. “I’m so used to being go-go all the time with work, and chores, and hobbies, and now it’s just...waiting around for food and sex.”

Taehyung chuckles, head resting back against the couch as he sits cross-legged on the lush carpet. “I’m not mad about it.”

After you had gone up to have a shower and reclaim a bit of your dignity, the group had dissipated. Jimin had apparently left to “take some business calls,” Jungkook had decided to break in the indoor gym (you could all hear the odd grunt and clang of equipment from the lounge area), and Namjoon had recently announced he was going outside for a walk around the backyard. The others had initially suspected he was making excuses for going to the Confessional Booth, but Jin had snuck out to the outdoor dining area and reported back that the younger man was “walking around with his hands in his pockets like a nerdy cryptid.”

Now, the remaining five of you chill on the couches, chatting away as Yoongi scrolls aimlessly through Netflix. You share a couch with him, Yoongi with his legs crossed and the remote resting on his knee, you spread out in the space between, toes almost touching his thigh. Across from you, Hoseok and Jin have chosen to both stretch out, Hoseok leaning back against Jin, with the older man’s legs on either side. Occasionally one of them will reach down to pat Taehyung’s head or rub his shoulder, Tae responding with a hum or grunt of approval.

It was strange how some individuals in the house had gotten closer faster than others. You knew Namjoon was still struggling with feeling like he wasn’t on par with the others, and Jimin clearly felt most comfortable with a strict boundary line that he maintained on his own terms, but on the other side of things, Hoseok and Jin were finding comfort in the casual skinship. You can’t help but wonder how things might progress as the game goes on.

“There’s nothing,” Yoongi announces with a frown. “Let’s find something else.”

“What else?” Hoseok asks, pouting glumly. “If I’m honest, I don’t even watch most movies and TV shows these days. When I watch something, it’s usually just porn to get inspiration for scenes.”

Taehyung sits up abruptly, dislodging Jin’s hand from lazily stroking his hair. “Then let’s watch porn.”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh, before realizing Taehyung is serious. "What; looking for some inspiration yourself?"

The younger boy ignores the jibe, getting up off the floor to steal the remote, going to the internet browser on the SmartTV function.

Jin lets out a laugh hearty enough to jostle Hoseok as he watches Taehyung type each key painstakingly.

bb|

bba|

ba|

bag|

ba-

ban|

"Is the porn meant to be you edging us?" the eldest retorts.

"Shut up, hyung," Tae answers without looking away from the television, finally clicking the button to load the site.

bangasm.com

"Ah, you reckon we'd get sued if we used some other porn website instead?" Jin jokes. "Afraid of getting kicked off the show for jacking off to PornHub?"

"Shut up, hyung," Taehyung repeats insistently, navigating to the search bar of the familiar site. He types more carefully this time, brow furrowed and lip pinched between his teeth in focus. "He goes live on a different site, but cross-uploads all his videos here too."

gu|

gukk|

gukke|

gukked|

gukked97. ENTER.

"Taehyung..." Yoongi starts slowly, uncrossing his legs to lean forward. "We shouldn't be watching his stuff without him here."

Once the page loads, and Taehyung clicks on the first result, your breath catches.

Earlier that morning, when Jungkook had gone down on you in the kitchen, he'd still been fully dressed, and so far he'd been wearing exclusively sweatpants and hoodies in the house.

Here, though, he's bared to you in 1080p quality, countless thumbnails of him filling the page in rows and rows, each one a week apart.

In most, he has a hand around his cock, usually leaning back on his bed with his head tipped back in pleasure. His cock appears a bit smaller than Jin's, but it fits in his hand so beautifully, arching in a gentle curve so that the head taps at his lower abdomen, which is defined in hard lines, revealing the muscular body of a gym bunny. Considering it was only the second day and he was already working out, it seemed his physical condition was important to him.

The thought of you all sitting and stalking his account while he's in the room down the hall, unawares, has you biting your lip in guilt, but as Taehyung keeps scrolling, seemingly searching for something specific, you can't help but glue your eyes to the TV.

While most of the thumbnails are him jerking off, in various states of desperation, if you watch carefully you can catch flashes of colour.

Jungkook with bright spots of red wax over his chest, a second figure visible only as a torso beside his lying body. Jungkook in a bathroom, filmed in the shower as he holds the detachable head to his cock. Jungkook in pink thigh-high stockings, holding his cock in sweater paws. Jungkook bending a girl over a table, holding her green scarf like it's a leash and thrusting into her.

Seeing him in so many different scenarios has your mouth watering, and you shift in your seat minutely, hoping nobody notices the attempt to receive some friction.

The other protests have died down, too, and you watch Hoseok sit up suddenly, turning to give Jin's crotch a bewildered look, before tucking his own legs up and folding his arms across his lap.

Beside you, Yoongi's eyes are dark, mouth slightly parted and lips shiny from where he'd licked at them.

"Let me just find my favorite," Taehyung says to break the silence, clearly the most unaffected of you. The dates change, going back to earlier vids, until he lands on a video, dated 30 December 2018. "Picture this: I'd been a shitty mood all day. It was my birthday, but I'd been stuck at the mall all day because my grandma wanted to buy a cell phone and she-"

"How is this at all relevant?" Yoongi interrupts impatiently.

Jin snickers. "You just want him to hurry up and play the video, don't you?"

"So what if I do?" Yoongi complains mulishly.

You look back over at the TV, partially covered by Taehyung's frame. The thumbnail, selected with a yellow frame, seems relatively innocuous at first, the side profile of Jungkook on a couch, what looks like a gaming controller in his hands. The title of the video is pretty tame too, ‘ready player one ;)’, but that’s when you notice the hand on his thigh, coming from behind the camera.

Taehyung clicks on the video, settling back onto the floor in front of Jin and Hoseok as he waits for it to load, scrolling through almost twenty minutes of Jungkook chatting to the camera, eyes darting down to read comments, looking entirely at-home. It’s clear to you that the camera is hand-held, and every now and again Jungkook looks up past the lens, listening to something the person holding the camera is saying.

“The point is,” the younger man explains as he fast-forwards, “Jungkook uploaded this on my birthday and the guy sou- oh, here we go - sounds like me.”

There’s a weird energy in the room once Taehyung resumes playing the video. It seems wrong to have it playing out loud on the television, like you were breaking some taboo, but at the same time, nobody wanted to protest. In the video, Jungkook’s wearing a baggy white t-shirt and some loose black shorts, something that clearly he was most comfortable in judging by what you’d seen him in the past few days. If you strain, you can still hear him working out down the hall, and everything feels a little too real, the memory of him between your thighs making you shiver.

Taehyung’s skipped a long way into the stream, the wide palm of the cameraman having slid up from Jungkook’s thigh to be palming his crotch directly, and his voice comes as a low murmur into the room, the volume on the television turned down.

“...for me? Keep playing your game, baby boy, you only get to cum once you win.” Taehyung is right; the voice is starkly similar to his, that same musical resonance in a deep timbre. You think Taehyung’s is nicer; still, the idea of Taehyung being behind that camera is affecting you just as much as it’s affecting the rest of the men in the room.

Everyone’s gone deadly silent, Yoongi making no barbed remarks, Jin without a quip. It’s clear from the way Jungkook writhes that the man is pressing him with a decent amount of force, but his strangled moans prove he’s loving it, hands wavering as they smash at the buttons, the noise from the video game sounding even more faint.

The man behind the camera doesn’t seem too interested in playing fair. Just as Jungkook bites down hard on his lip, panting but managing to focus, the tanned hand slips under the waistband of his shorts, not pulling his cock out but rather jerking him from beneath the fabric, making the boy shudder, a broken moan louder than any sound before.

As you watch, you have the urge to press a hand to yourself, wanting to relieve some friction, but instead you just clench hard, rubbing your thighs together. Yoongi glances over when you move, his pink lips parted, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat like he’s parched. It shocks you to see him so affected by the video, eyes hazed over with lust and fingers clutching at the fabric of the couch. On the opposite side, the other three men are in similar predicaments, Hoseok looking calm but clearly aroused, Jin bright red as he palms himself almost unconsciously, and Taehyung with a dreamy smile on his face, breaths shallow.

The Jungkook on screen lets out a frustrated whine when he loses the game, letting the controller hang limply on his thighs. His head lolls to the side, making eye contact with the recorder before lowering his gaze to stare pleadingly down the lens, and you hear Yoongi hiss a breath in the moment their gazes connect through the screen, Jungkook staring out into the audience with blown irises and bottom lip red from being bitten.

“You lost again, hm?” the voice calls out, dripping with mock sympathy. Jungkook swallows and nods, hips shifting against the hand that’s now stilled between his legs. A chuckle echoes from behind the camera. “Your viewers are telling me they want to see you cum, baby boy. Play one more round. Don’t disappoint us.”

Jungkook whines, but obediently sets up another game, sitting up and furrowing his brow to focus. Slipping out of Jungkook’s shorts, the hand instead pushes down the elastic waistband, freeing his cock. Jungkook sighs throatily at the open air on his length, a glossy bead of precum running down the side, collected by a single finger.

“Should I go easy on him, guys?” The voice pauses for a minute, trailing a single fingertip up and down the underside of Jungkook’s cock as the boy pants and tries to stay focused on the game. A bemused hum comes from behind the camera. “It’s your lucky day, baby boy. Taebybaby says you should get to cum because it’s his birthday today.”

Taehyung’s face splits in a boxy grin, eyes crinkling as he jabs a finger towards the television, where the on-screen Jungkook sighs in relief, wishing the user a happy birthday. “That’s me!” he calls out, turning around to stare accusingly at Yoongi. “See? The background context was important.”

On the television, Jungkook’s given up on the game, controller tossed to the side and head thrown back as the hand wraps around him, using the slick of his precum to jerk him off rapidly, clearly wanting to draw a quick orgasm out of the boy.

It’s pure sin, the way his thighs tense and the sliver of stomach where his shirt has ridden up flexes, hips jerking and moans pouring out of him in a constant, wanton stream.

“Are you serious?” Jungkook says calmly, and you frown, before realising it’s not the Jungkook on the screen that’s spoken.

Whirling around, you see the real Jungkook leaning against the doorway, shirt clinging with sweat and a towel slung over his shoulders. “My own viewing party and I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung gushes with wide eyes, wincing as the volume from the TV increases, the toned body jerking as streaks of cum are milked from his cock, running down the hand of the cameraman. Taehyung fumbles for the remote as the on-screen Jungkook cries in pleasure, turning the TV off completely with shaky hands. “We weren’t- It just- We were just watching,” Taehyung finishes. “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook holds a hard stare for a few agonising moments, before breaking into a hearty chuckle. “Hey, I put them on the internet for everyone to see, people watching is the whole point. I hope you all enjoyed the show.” He grimaces. “That was such an old one though. Scoot over, Y/n; I’ll find you all a good one.”

You choke on air with the mention of your name, still feeling like you’d been caught red-handed. Or, red-cheeked rather. You blush violently as you stand up on shaky legs. There’s no way, if he played another video, that you would be able to resist the urge to slip a hand down your shorts, and you’d gotten off in public enough for one day. “I, uh, need to go water my plants,” you stammer, “I almost forgot. Y-You guys go ahead.”

Not wanting to wait for Jungkook’s reaction, you rush past him, feeling his hands attempting to hold you for a moment, before giving up when you don’t stop.

So flustered from the situation you’d just run from, you stumble up the stairs blindly, not noticing the figure that opens his door at the same time, watching in curiosity as you rush into your bedroom and slam your door shut, collapsing on your bed with a groan.

----

“Where have you been all day?” you ask conversationally as Namjoon takes a seat next to you with his bowl of fried rice.

“Out and about,” he answers loftily, avoiding your gaze. The two of you are sitting in the private, unfilmed lounge across the stairs. It’s strange; you’ve only been here two days but the constant presence of cameras has become so easy to grow accustomed to that in this room, it feels weirdly empty and stagnant. Still, there’s a relief in feeling like you have a break from being watched.

“Out and about,” you repeat, unconvinced, “you know we aren’t allowed to leave the property, right?”

Namjoon smiles down at his food. “The gardens are really gorgeous. I went to explore for a bit and ended up staying outside to soak up the sun and the nature.”

You bite your lip. He’d been the one that had suggested the two of you go eat in this room. “Struggling with the cameras, still?”

He looks up, finally, eyes crinkled with a rueful smile. “I guess I still feel a little silly to be here. I know my whole thing is that I’m inexperienced, but… Really feels like I’m doomed to fail here.”

You put your spoon down slowly. “Namjoon… Experience isn’t the only thing that matters, you know? I’m not gonna vote you out immediately just because you can’t, I don’t know, fuck me while doing a cartwheel or some shit like that. I said the other night that all of you as people are important too. Don’t distance yourself just because you’re worried about going home.”

He nods slowly, though he doesn’t seem entirely comforted. “I still only have a one-in-seven chance of winning this thing.”

“So do the rest of them,” you point out, gesturing back the way you came. “And if you like to run the numbers, you have a higher chance of staying than being sent home every week except the last.” You push your food aside, scooting around to sit beside Namjoon instead of across from him. “Honestly, Namjoon. I’m saying this away from all the cameras so you know I really mean it, but if you wanna stay, give me a chance to get to know you. Stick around.”

His chin protrudes as he tenses his jaw, deep in thought. “Y/n… Can I do something honestly too? Away from the cameras so you know I really mean it?”

“Of course,” you reply automatically, eyes widening when a broad palm comes out to hold onto yours.

Without another word, Namjoon just leans closer, the feeling of his breath on your face preceding the soft press of his lips on yours.

Namjoon kisses much like he acts; tentative, uncertain, and a little clumsily, but endearingly so. You find yourself entranced in the reverential way he does it, a series of tiny butterfly touches instead of the deep sensual frenching you’d been exposed to in the past. It’s chaste but meaningful, and when he draws back, his cheeks are pinker than his lips, coughing lightly in embarrassment.

“Namjoon,” you whisper into the quiet of the room, no words coming to mind except his name.

“I’m sorry,” he says with a laugh. “You probably think it’s stupid. Of course the virgin would get a crush on the girl first.”

“A crush?” you question. “Namjoon, we’ve known each other for two days.”

You meant to be lightly jesting, but his face crumples, laughing again in self-deprecation. “It’s stupid,” he repeats, clearing his bowl off the table and standing up. “Sorry, just- ignore I said that.”

“Namjoon, that wasn’t what I-”

You’re interrupted by the solid finality of the door slamming shut behind him.

TAGLIST

I’m going to try and put excess tags in the comments, hopefully this works better than last time! Please comment on this post if you wish to be added.

(can u pls tell me if this worked if you were in the comments and if it worked if you were in the main post, i’m trying my best to work out how many tags i can actually put where! there are over 150 of you already so it’s a little tricky)

@agustdpeach @tinysweetscrown @starryskyslove @taemetiger @wildly-lost-lantern @mini-coop25 @bbbrats @crafty-babe @megahwn @sope-and-shine@kuppyjiminie @igot7-penta-seo @brooklyn11208 @taetaehooray@heathenssss @ironicarmy @mykingdomismyheaven @franklytae @ddaenggtan @scribbleseas @ex-silent-reader @lovelysky15 @0nlyours0 @houseofarmanto@xddaengx @bucky-thorin-winchester @joonadore @shi-tmp3 @latina-army@djasheyash99 @yeontanie21 @chogiyeol-utopia @swanqook @parksfilter@jungtaeyoongles @lilylovsu @kaitlynmarie1120 @karma299 @tearkth@hjordan1994 @bangtan-dreamland @sarcasmflowsinmyveins @ky-is-the-name @belatona @yoonwon17 @brilliantlybasicb @sockie-the-dumbass@pachiinso-shad

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#ficswithluv #the gentlemen #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #magicshopnet #smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader

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