#he looks like he’d gaslight me a lil bit

[onlyfansdotcomslashshawnmendes]

Shawn Mendes, LA, Dec 16 '23

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes 2023 #shawn mendes edit #nah cos he looks fine as hell #he looks like he’d gaslight me a lil bit #and i’d say thank you sir

[lanabuckybarnes]

💳💳💳 take all my money but pleeeeease write more about dirty big boy Lee who wants to give you his son because that small drabble had me sweatin already😮‍💨

Ask and thee shall receive!

Breeding Bitch

18+ MINORS DNI

(I do not own any photos, Credits to original owners)

Uhhh so this is fucking….maybe the warnings would describe this a bit better hehe 👀.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Warnings: Dark Lee!, LEE BODECKER!!, Dub/Non-Con Themes, Unestablished Age Gap but there is definitely one (Reader 20s, Lee late 30s/40s), Cheating (it's Lee), Teeny Size Kink if you squint, Names: Darlin, Good Girl, Baby, Slut, Bitch, Whore, Heifer, Girl. Handcuffing, Good ole Gaslighting, Degradation, Gagging, Dirty Talk, Cervix Abuse, Voyeurism? (Your father is in the next room), He uses the fact that your Pa is so close to his advantage, Mentions of Breeding, actually Breeding, Alcohol (Again, It’s Lee), Marking, Biting, Slapping, Bleeding (from yer cooch), Spitting, Daddy Kink, Rough P in V, Threats (Lee threatens your teeth), Dacryphilia, Panty Stuffing, Absolutely zero aftercare— if I’ve missed anymore, especially in a story like this one, please lemme know!!

DO NOT PROGRESS IF ANY WARNING(s) TRIGGER YOU PLEASE!!

Word Count: 1.2k

This is a doozy. I’ll put a lil palette cleanse at the end for you my loves ♥️

“Augh shit you’re fucking tight” Lee growls above you, cock head pushed uncomfortably against your cervix, your hands cuffed above your head and your panties in your mouth.

You would never admit this to anyone. The almost nightly occurrences of Lee ending up in your little cottage on the hill, his pants round his ankles and his cock wherever he so chose.

It was his wife’s fault, he’d told you; she was sick, old and unable to give him what he wanted. That’s why when you moved into town, bright-eyed and innocent, he had to have you.

His head rolled with his eyes, a strained groan flowing from his lips as his tummy jiggled softly at the tightening of his core.

“Never get over a tight little pussy like this” You whined as he pushed further, sheathing his dick fully inside you.

What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, legs spread akimbo for a married man, the Sheriff no less? Your hands pulled against the cuffs attached to the headboard, the rhythmic clanging had Lee’s eyes shooting open.

“Hey now! Darlin” a huge hand smoothed over your metal clasped wrists before running down your arm to your left breast, he squeezed firmly.

“You wouldn’t want your daddy waking up now would you?” that fucking smirk, the dark look in his eyes— he had you, right where he wanted— the reminder of your feeble old Pa in the next room keeping you tamed, Lee didn’t care about him finding out about your little secret, he’d fuck you right in front of him, but he knew it would keep you pliant for him.

You stopped, hands hanging painfully from the cuffs.

“Good girl, knew you’d come around…now you let me breed this little cunt, loosen up a bit, enjoy it” The brandy on his breath had you queasy as it mixed with his residual cologne. His thick lips peppered marks all over your breast, tongue licking the flesh before biting down with a force that had your toes curling and you crying out into the cotton of your panties.

“Oh don’t be dramatic” he chuckled, slapping the reddened mark lightly. He groaned as he pulled his length out slowly, letting you feel each inch run over the stretched flesh of your heat until his cock head fell from you in a sickly squelch, his precum mixed with your blood.

“God baby, you’re fucking soaked…you like me doing this to you? Course you do you fucking slut” Lee gleams wickedly before launching a huge glob of spit over your clit and his head, his thick fingers circling your clit once, twice and then rubbing the saliva over himself.

He keeps your head still, forcing you to look at him as he pushes in again, making you watch as his dark eyes swim with amusement at your pathetic little whimpers.

“Mmmn…you know, if I didn’t have to do this, I’d feel bad for your stupid little face” Lee laughs, slapping his fingers against your cheek mockingly.

His patience had worn thin, you were lucky enough to get this much prep from him but he was over it now— the growing itch to fill your fertile little hole with his cum becoming too overwhelming.

He slams in, hitting your already abused cervix painfully. His pace is brutal, the only thing stopping the headboard from clattering off the wall being the pillow he’d so ‘generously’ placed between them.

“Oh shit! you fucking little breeding bitch, ahh I ain’t ever had a pussy this tight… fucking made for me, wasn’t it? Yeah, it fucking was” Lee rambles, as he usually does. You could do nothing but take whatever he was giving you, you wouldn’t dare fight back— did you even want to at this point? He had you all cock drunk, stupid little baby so you were.

“Mmm, baby you like this” Lee spoke assertively, punctuating each word with a hard thrust “Push me away as much as you want but at the end of the day you’re still gonna take my load happily… I mean look” he laughs as he pushes your legs from his wide shoulders, they fall open on their own. “You fucking hold yourself open for my spunk, you fucking want this, you need it… you want my son ya little slut”

The quick yank of your panties from your mouth made you gag slightly, the drool that had gathered falling from the corner of your mouth and into your tresses of hair. It amused Lee, watching you stare off into that little space you ran to, unable to control your body— you let him fuck you however he wante— no, however you needed.

Lee’s hand clasped around your face painfully, his thumb hooking behind your teeth “fucking answer me whore, or I’ll pull these out” a firm tug to your lower jaw warned you before he spat again, the hot liquid falling right on your tongue.

“I want this… wan you! Want your baby! Please Lee gimme your baby” you wailed, no longer caring about your volume.

“Good little slut, always begging for daddy ain’t you? You take this fucking baby, you take everything I give you” Lee’s pace stuttered, only for a second, but it told you everything you needed to know and you were disgusted at the way your body pled for it. The way your back arched, your pussy squeezing and frantic cries fell from your lips as your orgasm slammed into you like a train.

“Oh shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lee practically screamed as he sank himself into one last time, releasing spurt after spurt of his thick, hot, cream against your bruised womb entrance. You don’t know how long his dick sat in your throbbing canal, only falling from you once he was fully soft.

“God, who’d I fucking bless to get a little heifer like you hmm?” He spoke eventually, kissing your cheek, allowing his tongue to poke out and lap at the salty tears falling freely from your big sad eyes.

“Don’t look so fucking upset at this, it’s a good thing, you’re being used for something great…I know girls that would have their panties round their ankles in no time if I let them” He chuckled while standing, fingers gripping your discarded undergarments to wipe along his cock, gathering his cum, and your slick; which had a tinge of red from the tear in your fragile skin he caused by stretching you out.

Once he deemed himself clean enough, he ran the panties through the mess pouring from your core.

“This won’t do, you’re supposed to keep it in” He tutted before pushing the soaked material into your stretched hole, his fingers stuffing the scratchy fabric into you carelessly. He made quick work of the cuffs digging painfully into your wrists, placing a quick peck over each dark mark around them.

“Tomorrow, I don’t want none of this fighting bullcrap you hear? No panties, no bra, no attitude— just you, alright girl?” He pushed your cheeks together, puckering your lips in the process.

You knew that what you said to him wouldn’t matter, he’d take you all the same so you just nodded like you would every single time his cerulean stare flickered over your much smaller structure.

“Atta girl” His lips grazed over your own, and then like a ghost, he was gone, leaving you to sob in a pile of your own mess.

-

I’m so sorry for him, he’s not usually like this, I promise he’s a nice guy 😔 🚩

Here’s your payment~

#lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fanfiction #lee bodecker x y/n #sheriff Bodecker #Lee bodecker smut #the devil all the time #sebastian stan characters #asks

[queenofalpaca]

“Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss/Mansplain, Manipulate, Malewife”

Pleeeease

Jesus fucking Christ.

Of course you’d pick the single darkest and most fucked up wip I own. Alright, I said I’d do it, here goes:

TW for gaslighting, drugging, murder, child death, other death, Bode being entirely unhinged (I swear I love him very much), and Cal having a very bad time (I swear I love him too)

This one’s inspired by a Tweet I saw once about drugging someone and then gaslighting them about it, and pushed along by The Evil Chuckle (1:1 what I called it in that wip) that Bode can do in the final battle.

I guess I’ll just slap down some notes from the wip and you can… do with that what you will (except judge me, keep that to yourselves)

Context:

Kata dies, Bode kills Merrin (and Greez too I guess), BD gets broken? I dunno. And Bode ends up completely fucked in the head and treating Cal like a pet one second and his dearest beloved lil boi the next

Outline

Start out with Cal thinking he can fix Bode

Willingly gives in to some of Bode’s demands

There’s no fixing that man

They end up killing each other

Gaslight:

Shove medication/drugs down his throat and then pretend he didn’t

Tell him that his memory is so unreliable, that why he always needs BD around, but now that he’s not here, Bode can take over that task

Girlboss:

Brutally murder some people to keep Cal “safe” (they might’ve been trying to save Cal from Bode)

And now for some snippets, because this is never getting finished or published anyway, so I might as well.

Malewife

Bode reached out and caressed Cal’s freckled cheek with the back of hand. He looked so… soft while he was asleep. All of the weight, the struggle, the pain of the day gone and replaced with vulnerability and compliance. He traced Cal’s eyebrow with his thumb, smoothing out the slight crease in his forehead.

He really was beautiful. His eyelashes splayed elegantly against his pale skin, the freckles across his nose, his soft, slightly parted lips. Bode ran his thumb over Cal’s bottom lip. It yielded readily to his touch. The skin was a little dry. Maybe he should buy Cal some chapstick. Cal liked practical gifts. He’d told Bode once that non-functional gifts just sort of felt like a burden. It was a shame. Bode would’ve happily showered him in gifts, but he didn’t want his Scrapper uncomfortable. But chapstick would be fine.

He stroked over Cal’s upper arm. “I’ll be back in a little bit. Still have some stuff to take care of,” he murmured. “Love you.”

He stood from the bed and made his way out of the room quietly, safe in the knowledge that the drugs would keep Cal under for at least another five hours. Making him swallow another pill then would be easy as long as he was still soft from sleep. Bode smiled to himself.

Murder

Bode gasped softly as Cal ignited the saber through his stomach.

“C-Cal?”

Cal tried to stumble away, but Bode gripped his arms and held on tightly. Cal squeezed his eyes shut so he didn’t have to see Bode’s face. Bode had no right to look so- so scared and confused. His heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Bode had hurt him. He should’ve been the one to feel guilty for his actions. Cal just… he just wanted it to stop, why did it hurt? He wanted Bode gone.

Bode sunk to his knees, pulling Cal with him. They hit the floor with a dull thud.

“I’m sorry,” Cal whispered.

“W-Why?” Bode placed one hand against Cal’s shoulder, bracing himself.

Cal looked up, into Bode’s hurt eyes. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“I just-“ Bode whimpered as the lightsaber in his gut shifted a little. “I just wanted to take care of you.”

Cal sobbed. No. No, this wasn’t fair. He hadn’t- he’d hurt him. He’d drugged him and beaten him and humiliated him and now he wanted to be thanked? No! It wasn’t- he didn’t-

Cal shook his head. Bode had fed him and cuddled with him and soothed him when he couldn’t sleep. He… he had taken care of Cal. And now Cal was thanking him by murdering him.

But then why did Cal flinch every time Bode touched his lower back? Why did he cringe away from any glasses of water Bode offered, afraid of what he might have in his other hand?

Why was there a collar in the drawer upstairs?

“I’m not your pet. I’m a p-person.”

Bode laid a hand against his cheek. “It’s okay.”

A scream got stuck in Cal’s throat as a searing hot pain stabbed through his gut. He looked down to see Bode’s hand on the lightsaber, thumbing the ignition of the other half. His hand dropped away as he swayed into Cal.

“I love you.”

Cal dropped the lightsaber like he’d been burned. It turned off and rolled away with a soft clatter. There was- there was a hole through him. It still felt like the lightsaber was inside.

Bode fell into him and pressed against his shoulder, his hands tightly gripping Cal’s back. Cal hesitantly wrapped his own arms around Bode. He… he was dying. He’d killed Bode and then Bode had killed him and now they were both dying.

Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he was crying again or if he hadn’t stopped. He wished… he wished someone was here. He wished someone would hold him and tell him that it’d all be fine.

But he’d killed Bode. He could feel his presence in the Force fading. The ever present threat of punishment going with it. Cal missed the way he’d once felt. That steady boulder in the stream, the safe haven in a chaotic galaxy. But that been a lie. This toxic whirlpool of anger and fear and obsession had always lurked beneath the surface.

But Bode really had loved him. And he’d loved Bode. And now it was all broken. It would all be over soon.

He didn’t know how long they kneeled there, hugging, before Bode’s muscles went slack and his arms dropped. He didn’t know how long it took after that for death to claim him too.

More Unhinged Stuff

“Hey, Scrapper.”

Cal couldn’t hide the flinch at the familiar nickname. Bode forced down a smile at the visceral reaction. “Brought you some food.” He crouched down a safe distance away from Cal, watching Cal’s body move with slightly stuttering breaths.

“What did you do?” Cal was trying oh so hard to sound hard, grounded. But his voice couldn’t hide the fear threading its spidery web through the wildfire that burned inside of him.

Bode sighed. “I don’t think you want to know. Come on, you’ve gotta eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” Cal curled in on himself further, as much as his splinted leg would allow him.

“I don’t care.” Bode stood and stalked toward Cal, primal pleasure curling around his shoulders as Cal tried to scramble away. This time, he couldn’t suppress the grin that stretched across his face. “You do as I say, now, Cal.” A sloppy kick was easily sidestepped, and without much effort, Bode had his little Jedi pinned under him.

“I gave you a choice. I gave you so many chances. And you wasted them all.” He grabbed Cal’s wrists and pinned them beside his head. Cal thrashed under him, anger bleeding into rage, trying to relight the dark spark he’d gripped during their fight. Bode let the dark wave of his own presence crash over Cal, suffocating the attempt. He was in control now. The Dark Side was his. Cal was his. He leaned down and set his forehead against Cal’s as the man under him gasped through the shock of being blanketed by Bode’s presence.

“No more choices now. Now, I’m deciding what’s best for you.”

Context

I love Kata, Merrin, and Greez, also. I promise.

This is your last warning. Turn back now or suffer the consequences

“Stay back!” Why did she insist on trying to get in the way? Couldn’t she see that he was doing this for her? He just needed a little bit. He’d defeat them soon enough. Cal was struggling futilely against his headlock and Merrin, hah, her grasp of the Force was wholly different. He could rip through her little spells faster than she could chant them. As long as Kata just-

A resounding crack splintered something anchored in his heart. He gasped, his vision greying out for a moment as freezing numbness swept through him. What- what was that? What had just happened?

“Kata?” He let go of Cal, who dropped to the ground with a harsh wheeze. Merrin’s hurried approach was ignored as he staggered to his feet and over to where he’d pushed Kata. He almost fell to his knees a few times, every other step either too light or practically cracking straight through the floor. “Sweetheart?” Why couldn’t he sense her?

His daughter’s tiny little body laid unmoving on the ground beside a large fallen boulder. Bode dropped to his knees at her side. “Little Star?” He gently shook her shoulder. Her head lolled weakly with the movement. The numbness began turning to fear.

He hadn’t pushed her that hard. It had just been meant to get her out of the way - out of danger; she should’ve barely stumbled; why- why wasn’t she waking up? “Kata.” He picked her up, cradling her body in his arms. She was so small. “Kata, sweetheart.” He brushed the hair out of her face. She had that little furrow in her brow when she was asleep, like Tay had said he did too. Bode had spent many nights sitting by her bedside and smoothing his thumb over it. It wasn’t there now.

Kata wasn’t asleep, was she? She was gone.

His body shook as he curled over her, a feeble attempt to shield her body. From what? She was dead. He’d killed her. He hadn’t meant to. She was dead. He’d killed his own daughter. He’d killed the last person who meant anything.

Soft footsteps approached from behind. Cal. Merrin. “Bode?”

He took a shuddering breath and carefully put down Kata’s body. There was nothing he could do for her now. It was over. His body wouldn’t stop shaking. He clenched his hands into fists. Everything he’d done. All of it for nothing. What good was Tanalorr now? The person it had been meant to shelter was dead.

He laughed quietly. Well, if nothing mattered anymore, there was no sense in trying to hold on to any semblance of sanity. What was there to fear? Nothing. Nothing left. And the Dark beckoned so sweetly.

“Bode?” The sound of Cal’s lightsaber igniting hissed through the air. Bode climbed back to his feet with measured movements, then rolled his shoulders back.

If he couldn’t have Kata, he’d take Cal. He whirled around and grasped the power at his fingertips to wrap it around Merrin’s neck and crush.

Cal’s anguished scream echoed through the room. Bode ducked under his swing and rammed his shoulder into Cal’s stomach. His lightsaber turned off as it fell from his hand and bounced harmlessly off Bode’s back. Bode followed with his momentum to send them both crashing to the ground. Before he was even able to draw in another breath, Cal was already clawing at him, mad with grief.

A handful of hair and a slam into the floor left Cal dazed for long enough to let Bode flip him onto his front and press his arms into his back. Bode tilted his head in thought as he watched Cal struggle under him. Now what? Oh. Right.

He shifted so he could lay a hand on Cal’s thigh. “Sorry about this, Scrapper. But I can’t have you running away while I take care of some stuff.” Cal was all blunt force, sweeping waves of power blasting groups of stormtroopers off of cliffs. Bode’s talents were a bit different. A pinpointed attack had bones cracking clean in two, and Cal screaming in pain. That would do.

Now, where was that annoying Lateron?

#mind the TWs #these parts be dark #I think I’m going to leave this one untagged #every other fic I’ll happily inflict onto the fandom tag but this one #this one stays at home with me

[chromaji]

oh i really like how this scene looks… shadow & rouge look really nice here, and the nice sunset background… there’s also a slight texture over the characters i think? i like it.

Also it was funny recognizing this shadow face from that “it must suck teleporting with adhd” “how the FUCK did i end up in nevada” post. i’d been wondering where the images used there was from.

anyway i like that Shadow at least acknowledged that he, yanno, kinda fucked up a bit there. But really the whole metal virus arc was so “everything is happening so much” that it was like. bro they had to bust out the chaos emeralds & super forms to gaslight gatekeep girlboss their way out of this one hgkgh.

Like as cool as it was to see Super Silver after so long, the arc felt weird once it reached that point where Tails ALMOST had a solution and it just got blown up. Maybe im a lil biased towards Tails but it would’ve been cool to have an “eggman and tails are on an even level— eggman made the virus but tails engineers the cure” moment. A moment for them to be pitted against each other as geniuses even if not throwing hands in mechs. Then again im not sure how they’d spread the hypothetical cure around the world WITHOUT something like the super forms or some machine that would likely take a while to build… ehh, i’m sure some quick solution would’ve been figured out.

well anyway back to this scene, Shadow says this, which I’m assuming is either him deciding he’s gonna try and look for Sonic because he owes him one, or him saying “I DID owe him one… until he disappeared. Now what?”. Idk, the meaning of this line kinda has me stumped, but the meanings I had in mind could go hand-in-hand. Like… “I owe Sonic, but he’s gone. Should I look for him? He’s capable enough to find his way back, but…” ???

Anyway, the infamous metal virus arc… yeah I liked it well enough, just felt like things were getting a bit too stacked once they introduced the deadly six and needing to get the chaos emeralds instead of my goat Tails being able to do his thing. And you know… Shadow suddenly losing common sense to prove himself as superior to someone who’s already run off in issue 19 like come on now. My brother in christ, are you fr doing this in the middle of a zombie movie? I understand him feeling like he’d be immune to a virus, as he was created to be immune to illnesses n such as the Ultimate Lifeform. That’s one thing. But that whole part coulda been executed better…

And sidenote i really liked that Metal Sonic side-comic as a whole, but especially where he doesn’t get infected by the virus & just… stands there. Like there’s either a lot going on in his mind or he’s too stunned to have any thoughts. I’ve always liked Metal but smth about that side comic is bumping him up.

this kinda turned into a review of the arc I didnt even mean to do that lmao. idk when i’ll pick back up on idw, but im assuming there’s one or two more complete arcs before the current ongoing arc (which i think is at issue 53 at the time of writing this??), and i usually like to read arcs of things once its all released… eh i’ll figure it out

#i do not control how much i talk/write abt things that interest me #but also this is like THE arc ppl talk about when talking idw like cmon #sonic idw #sonic #im still in shambles over surge & kit not even being in the comic at this point YALL REALLY HAD MEEEE FR. #i legit thought they were introduced WITH starline. so when i saw him & no surge & kit i was like. huh?

[urmommies--girl]

Game Over - S.B x reader

Hello! I just need more dark shit like step-bro Siri finds you masturbating and refuses to leave the room until you let him join so he absolutely fucks the life out of you👌🏻Also idk if you’re taking anons but if you are can I be 🐸 anon pls and thank you

A//N:  🐸 anon you seggsy bitch I love you 💕

Warnings: This is 18+ only, dark smut, dark! stepbro Sirius x sub!fem reader, kinda voyeurism, gaslighting, p in v, stepcest, choking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, degradation, Sirius being creepy, cheating, humiliation, kind of public sex?, maybe loss of virginity? (R has masturbated but never been fucked), a lil cnc (you wanted it dark I’m just fulfilling your wishes my love)

Words: 1.3k 

It was late and the house was quiet as you played with your clit, your parents had left you alone with your stepbrother for the week but you knew he couldn’t hear you since he was probably gaming with his friends.

You tried to think of your boyfriend as you pleasured yourself but your mind always drifted to Sirius, the way his fingers would feel inside you and how you knew his cock was big just by the outline in his sweatpants, you accidentally moaned his name a bit too loudly and quickly stopped to listen to your surroundings.

It was quiet, he must not have heard you, thank god.

But how wrong you were. Unbeknownst to you Sirius could hear every moan and whimper of his name that fell from your lips— he’d stopped playing with his friends for a minute to get a drink of water but when he passed your room he could hear your cries for him.

He noticed the door was slightly open and as he peaked his head in to see if you were ok it gave him a perfect view of your fingers penetrating your hole.

Sirius froze as his eyes moved up to watch your breasts and then to your face which was contorted in pleasure as helpless whimpers and pleads fell into the air— he placed his glass of water on the floor and reached into his sweatpants to pull his cock out of his pants.

He pumped his length in his hand a few times, letting out quiet grunts while he tugged continued to jerk himself off at the sight of you spread out on the bed, moaning his name.

“Sirius…?” The way you said his name was different causing him to open his eyes, “what are you doing?” you had pulled the blanket up on your body as your looked out to where you could see Sirius’s face— the boy shoved his length back into his sweatpants before walking into the room and locking the door behind him.

“Could ask you the same question, bunny. Heard you calling out for me so I came, looks like you did too.” He smirked, motioning to the puddle of your cum that lay on the blanket where you were sitting only moments ago.

You flushed red, “Thought you were talking to your friends.” You mumbled, embarrassed, “I was, then I got up to get water and heard your pretty little cries. Was worried for a minute till I saw you whoring yourself out for me to walk in at any moment.”.

You rubbed your thighs together and fiddled with your fingers, “you need help there, puppy?” He walked towards you, you tugged the blanket higher so it covered you more but Sirius was quick to rip it away from you.

“What a pretty girl. Y’want your big brother to make you feel better?” He hummed, sliding his hands up at down your legs while he leant close to your face.

You nodded desperately, not thinking about anything at that moment except Sirius.

The raven haired male pushed you back on the bed so your were fully exposed to him, you whimpered as he pushed your legs up to your chest.

Sirius ran his fingers through your folds to collect slick onto his fingers exploiting a whimper from you, “Wait- Siri this isn’t right…” You grasped the reality of the situation, your step brother looked up at you with a pout, “What do you mean? Big brothers are meant to teach their little sisters this kind of stuff.” He explained, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “They are…?”, “Course they are. Your lucky I’m nice I can show you how to make guys really feel good.” Even though Sirius was planing to just keep you all to himself.

He entered two fingers into your hole causing you moaned loudly and claw at the back of your thighs, ”Sirius… Please..” You practically sobbed as his thumb found your clit while he pumped his fingers in and out of you at a brutal pace, “You ever fuck yourself like this? Or do you just play with your clit?” He asked, flicking your nub, you jolted up with a yelp, “O-only my clit. N-never put my fingers in.” You whimpered.

Sirius smirked proudly as he continued to pound his fingers into your hole, watching as your mouth made an ‘O’ shape and his name continued to fall off your lips.

“Siri m’gonna cum! P-Please!” You gasped out, “I can feel you clenching around my fingers, pup. You gonna be a good little sister and cum on my fingers?” He hummed in response, you nodded vigorously, “Yes! Please! M’gonna cum!”, “Go on, slut. Cum on my fingers.” He demanded, your body instantly obeyed the command as your released all over his fingers.

Your eyes remained shut as you came down from your orgasm— only opening when you felt something prod at your sensitive area.

Sirius had discarded his sweatpants and was now positioning his girth at your entrance, “Sirius- what are you-“ you tried, eyes widening in fear, “Shh, be a good girl and just let me use you. I made you feel good so now you gotta make big brother feel good.” He hushed you, “But- Siri- I’ve never done anything like this.” You explained nervously, “Oh, sweet little slut is letting her brother take her virginity. I’m honoured.” He mused before slamming his cock into your hole, you screamed at the intrusion but Sirius’s hand came up to your neck, choking you.

“Stay quiet for me, puppy. My friends can hear you from the other room. I didn’t hang up you know.” He smirked devilishly, your eyes widened again as you tried to fight him, “Hey, hey, hey! None of that.” He yelled, you froze as tears pooled in your eyes, he sighed, “S’gonna feel so good, baby. Just gotta let me do what I need. I’ve done this before.”.

You nodded slowly and listened to Sirius, “good girl.” He began to thrust into you.

The pain started to disappear and was replaced by pleasure as your step brother continued to force his impressive length inside you, “Oh- Sirius- fuck!” You gasped out, “Feeling good, puppy? What’d I tell you. Little brother fucker.” He cursed under his breath, you moaned at the name.

“Yeah you like being called dirty names? You like being reminded what a whore you are?” He mocked, you nodded desperately and reached up to his hand that was still around your throat, instead of moving his hand away he increased pressure and slid his thumb into your mouth, “Go on, baby. Put that mouth to good use.”.

Sirius grunted as he sped up, feeling his high closing in on him, “Fuck- gonna cum. Gonna fill up this slutty little pussy. Make you my personal cumdump. S’that sound good?” He breathed into your ear, you nodded desperately as your wrapped you legs around his waist, “gonna fill you up till your round with my babies.”, you moaned at his dirty words, “You want me to cum deep inside you? What’s your mom gonna think when she finds out your pregnant with your brother’s babies?” He hummed, “Sirius fuck! Please- please fill me up!” You yelped.

A smirk fell across his lips as you both came at the same time. Your velvet walls milking Sirius for all he had.

As you came down from your high you felt Sirius pull out and get off the bed, “Thanks, pup. I really needed that.” He kissed your forehead, you opened your eyes and saw him pulling his sweats back on, “Where are you going?” You pouted, “Still got my friends on call, baby. Don’t worry I’ll come give you a kiss before I go to sleep ok?”, You nodded and closed your eyes as your heard the door close.

“I’m back.” Sirius placed his headset back on, “Jesus mate! We thought you died!” Peter’s dramatic voice came from the other end, “Sorry Mate, Stepsister just needed a bit of attention.” Sirius smirked as he pressed play on the game.

#sirius x you #sirius black smut #sirius black #stepbro sirius #stepcest tw #cw stepcest #sirius x y/n #sirius black x reader #dark sirius #dark sirius black #dark marauders #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius smut

[katsu28]

breaking point

pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

summary: The downfall of Y/N and Rafe’s relationship comes when Y/N finally reaches a breaking point

(technically Ghost Town part 2 but can also be read as a standalone)

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs and alcohol, unhealthy behavior, a lil bit of gaslighting, mention of addiction, probably incorrect legal information regarding bail and jail bc idk, ANGST

a/n: dedicated to the lovely anon who was wondering about a part two to Ghost Town, enjoy the angst bestie <3

masterlist + taglist

Rafe had disappeared again. This time, it was an argument that had set him off. He’d blown off yet another date night in favor of getting high off his ass at another party that you knew nothing about, and the only reason you’d found out about it at all was because Topper had texted you that your boyfriend had shown up at his house entirely out of it.

Topper had driven him to your place that time, dropping him off at two in the morning with a sympathetic smile, because even he knew that Rafe’s actions were driving you to the brink.

You remembered getting into a screaming match with Rafe, begging him to stop self-destructing both your lives, pleading with him to just listen to you for once. But like every other time, he wouldn’t hear it. All he wanted to do was to brush it off, like this—him coming home at all sorts of ungodly hours high and drunk out of his mind—was normal. You remembered him saying that the two of you would talk about it tomorrow.

But tomorrow never came, because when you woke up the next day with puffy and bloodshot eyes from crying yourself to sleep yet again, Rafe was gone. Again.

And so it began, this vicious cycle of worrying out of your mind, calling all his friends, wondering if you should call the cops and report him missing, of praying that he would just come home in one piece. Except this time, it was different. Deep, deep down, you knew that this was your breaking point. You couldn’t keep doing this anymore.

But how were you supposed to tell Rafe that he’d finally worn you down when you didn’t even know where the hell he was?

-------

Your answer came in the form of a phone call two weeks after Rafe had vanished off the face of the Earth, the harsh buzzing of your phone against your bedside table jerking you out of your slumber. You reached out, blindly patting the table until your fingers closed around it.

“Hello?” You yawned, voice thick with sleep. There was silence on the other end, some shuffling, then finally a voice.

“Y/N,” Rafe’s voice mumbled. “It’s me.”

You were wide awake now, shooting upright in your covers with your phone pressed against your ear. “Rafe? Where are you?”

“I need you to come to the sheriff’s station.”

“Sheriff’s station? What—why are you there? Where have you been?”

“I got into some trouble. Just come down, please.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” With that, you hung up, tossing your phone onto the bed with an exasperated groan. You didn’t know if you should be happy that Rafe had reached out to you, or worried that he most definitely landed himself in jail. But either way, you had to head down there.

Not fifteen minutes later, you were at the station, standing at the front desk with a forced smile aimed at the officer behind it, who looked like he couldn’t give two shits about who you were or why you were here.

“Hi, I’m here for Rafe Cameron?”

“One moment, please.” He replied monotonously, tapping slowly at the computer in front of him while your eyes darted around the station nervously. “You said Rafe Cameron?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rafe Cameron, nineteen years old?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Says here he was booked on unlawful possession of a controlled substance. You here to pay his bail?”

You nodded with a tight smile, digging your credit card out of your wallet and passing it to him, not missing the disappointed look that he aimed your way as you did so.

You knew what he was thinking. He definitely thought that you were just some stupid kid with a delinquent boyfriend. Sometimes that same thought went through your head too.

After a little while, Rafe had stumbled his way out of the holding cell and into the waiting area, clothes rumpled and hair a mess, clutching his personal effects against his chest as another officer buzzed open the door for him. You could smell the stench of booze and stale weed coming off him in waves, making your nose scrunch up in distaste.

He didn’t even acknowledge you, simply walking right past you and shoving open the door to the parking lot clumsily. You rolled your eyes, following him to your car, where he’d leaned up against the hood and was looking off into the distance with a frown.

“You’re mad at me. I can tell.” He muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

You didn’t even have the energy to play dumb with him. “Yeah, I am. You disappeared for two weeks, Rafe. No texts, no calls, you turned your location off—do you know how worried I’ve been??? And now you call me out of the blue at three in the fucking morning because you got yourself arrested?”

“I needed some time to myself. That a crime now?”

“No, but unlawful possession of a controlled substance is. I just paid a thousand bucks to get you out of there, Rafe. How ‘bout a little gratitude? Maybe a thank you?”

He ignored you. “If this is about the money, I’ll pay you back.” He grumbled. You froze in your spot, completely taken aback by how nonchalant he was being right now.

“This isn’t about the goddamn money, I don’t care about the money, I just—I love you, and I don’t want you doing something you’re gonna regret one day.” Rafe’s jaw tightened at your words, and when he looked at you, there was anger in his eyes, because all he saw in yours was disappointment and pity. It was like he didn’t even register that you were coming from a place of love and concern, just jumped straight to irritation.

“That—that right there, that look. You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” He spat, mouth turning up into a sneer.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Rafe. I think you need to stop doing this shit to yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything I can’t handle, Y/N. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“Really? This is what you call ‘taking care of yourself’?” You shot back, jerking your thumb at the sheriff’s station behind you. “You need help.”

“Again with the help!” Rafe laughed bitterly, pushing off the car and pacing back and forth. “I don’t need help! I’m fine, and I have everything under control.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Rafe. Don’t—”

“If I’m such an idiot, then why are you still here?” He snapped. His words shocked you to your very core, echoing in your brain over and over again.

Why were you here?

Was it because you loved him, or was it because you felt bad for him?

Was it both?

“Get in the car. I’m taking you back to Tanneyhill.” You said calmly, much more calm than you felt. Rafe looked like he wanted to keep this argument going, but one glance at the glare you shot him had him shutting up in an instant and climbing into the passenger seat without another word.

The ride home was completely silent, neither of you wanting to say anything more that would start an argument and take your focus away from the pitch black road you were driving down. You didn’t want to say anything without thinking it through first, and the silence gave you the time to do exactly that.

So by the time you weaved your car up the long, winding driveway of the Cameron household and put it in park, you knew exactly what you wanted to say to Rafe. The two of you could talk this out like mature adults.

But apparently Rafe had other plans, because as soon as you pulled to a stop, he had already unbuckled and jumped out of the car, barely stopping to mutter a thanks for the ride before he was making his way towards the house.

“Rafe, wait,” You called, killing your engine and climbing out of the driver’s seat. He froze halfway up the path, turning back to you slowly with a painfully blank expression. You made your way to him, stopping a safe enough distance away to where you wouldn’t feel the urge to bury yourself in his arms and pretend everything was alright—like you had been this entire time. “I need to say something to you.”

“Look, Y/N, can we do this tomorrow?” He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

“No, we can’t. I’m doing this now, because tomorrow always means never with you, and I’m sick of it.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded slowly.

“I can’t do this anymore, Rafe.” You said quietly, fighting the waver in your voice.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t sit by and watch you destroy your life because you can’t see the consequences of your actions.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The drugs, the drinking—it’s ruining your life, and you can’t even see that!” You exclaimed, feeling the tears start to well up in your eyes. “I’m scared, Rafe, and you don’t even care!”

Rafe didn’t say anything for the longest time, and when he did, his voice was scarily low. “Scared for me, or scared of me?”

“Both.” You said shakily, wrapping your arms around yourself, as if that could be some sort of shield between you and Rafe. Taking a sharp breath, he started to pace back and forth with his hands on his hips, looking over at you every so often and shaking his head, then continuing in his pacing. You didn’t know what was going through his head, and you hated it.

“Are you breaking up with me right now?” He asked finally, halting his pacing.

“I don’t want to, but I can’t keep doing this shit with you, Rafe. I feel like I’m the only one fighting to save this relationship, and I—I can’t do it anymore.” You were crying at this point, not even trying to hide the tears rolling down your face. Maybe if he saw how much pain he was putting you through, he’d finally notice what he was doing, not only to himself, but to you too.

“I love you, Y/N, and you’re breaking up with me?” Rafe replied, clenching his jaw as he looked at you with pure confusion.

“I love you too, I really do. But I’m not just gonna sit here and pretend everything’s okay, because it’s not. It hasn’t been for a really long time. I know deep down, you know that too. You love getting high more than you love me.” You cried, holding up a shaky hand when he opened his mouth to protest. “And don’t tell me it’s not true, don’t tell me I’m just being dramatic, because it is true.”

“Baby, please, just—just gimme a chance to work my shit out. We can get through this, Y/N, come on—” Now Rafe’s voice was thick with tears, as he desperately tried to salvage what was left of your relationship. Like he’d just now realized that you were dead serious.

“I've given you so many chances, Rafe. And you’ve let me down every single time.”

“This time is gonna be different, baby, I promise. Just don’t—don’t leave me.” He pleaded.

“Prove it. Prove to me this time is gonna be different. I know you have a stash up in your room, go get rid of it. Throw it into the marina.” You demanded, pointing down at the water’s edge. “Get rid of the drugs, and then I’ll know you actually mean what you’re saying. That you’re not just lying your ass off to get me to stay.”

Rafe’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but he didn't move an inch. He couldn’t even say anything that would get you to change your mind now.

“That's what I thought.” You said quietly. He looked at you one last time, tear-glossed eyes silently begging you not to leave.

Stepping forward, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down for one last hug, cradling the back of his head when it dropped into the crook of your neck like it was second nature. Rafe barely had time to slide his arms around your waist before you pulled away, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “Goodbye, Rafe. I really do hope you get better.”

You quickly hurried back to your car without another word, biting down on your lip so hard to stifle the sob threatening to rip through your chest that you tasted blood. Every cell in your body was screaming for you to turn around as you drove away, screaming that you were making a mistake—that Rafe needed you. But you couldn't. Because if you looked in the rearview mirror and saw the broken look on his face, you’d break down.

So you kept driving instead, telling yourself over and over that this was what needed to happen, both for you and for Rafe.

This was for the best.

Taglist:

@milkiane @scenesofobx @unbelievablystillafangirl

#pls don't let this flop #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron angst #outer banks #obx imagine #obx netflix #obx #topper thornton #outer banks rafe #drew starkey

[spooki-ghoztzz]

hiii im the anon who sent the uhh clingy s/o one, if its not too much cans i request aaa yandere william with an also yandere gn s/o or crush ? or maybe a yandere dave even

sorryyyy im just a lil bit homo today

( I’M FEELING A LIL BOTH TODAY ANON. ur getting the best outta me today cuz I'm feeling motivated- ima sick with s/o cuz i suck at writing hcs that..aren’t that </3)

As soon as i thought of this my brain went to the song “An Unhealthy Obsession” for the simple reason of that’s how it's gonna sum this up-

Even before you two got together you stalked the hell out of each other(and some killing ofc), almost every bit of information about each other. Till ended up catching him watching him through your window- he was worried you’d call the police but you just..invited him in?

Once he was invited in you just asked him to join you on the couch for cuddles,he said yes of course and that’s when you went on about how you’ve stalked him for almost a whole two years (yeah he’s surprised for fucking sure since he’s only done it for only 5 months)

He just stared at you before kissing you,saying he liked you back- and thats how y’all met. weirdos

Tbh you two are fucking terrifying when it comes to being yanderes,it depends on the type you are. Williams a good mix of murderer and stalker,you might as well be also.

William loves you of course but you gotta chill with killing every man or woman who gives him any sort of attention- he does the same for sure but it’s mostly men. (he hates fucking men for some reason,don’t mind it-)

He also kinda expects you to reward him after he hurt someone for you,even if he’s all bloody he’d ask for kisses and cuddles-

Meanwhile he’d make sure to at least do the same for you,saying “You did great luv.how about we go home and watch somefin’ on the telly,yeah?”

Tbh y’all are just a creepy ass power couple-

Despite Dave and Will being the same as i’ve said before,he’s somewhat different plus how you met was somewhat similar.

You two met by seeing each other take pictures of one another while you two were working- yeah that’s how the hell you two ended up dating and getting all crazy over each other more than you were.

Dave isn’t a killer for the most part but will threaten people and stalk them till they feel like they’re going insane. He’d do anything for you even if it was to poison someone-

If you kill for him,he’d lowkey feel special and happy- like he’d cuddle up on you even if you’re covered head to toe in blood and start kissing you “Awhh shucks y/n you didn’t have to kill all them bastard for lil ol’ me!” “..They looked at you the wrong way,Dave..” “Honeybun it’s alright,promise ya!”

Dave legit praises you like you’re damn royalty after you kill for him,all on you and kissing you all over since you deserve it! You got your hands bloody for him and only him <3

Now,this might be the Will side showing but he has a good reason he doesn’t kill,he’s done it enough and he can just let someone else get their hands bloody instead of him.

 honestly love to watch you get jealous for a simple thing,for example a random man or woman look at him or try to talk to him. Yeah he understands their throats are gonna be ripped out-

If you’d rather not kill kids for remnant cause hey,i hope you aren’t that low but he’d gaslight you into doing it. He’d make you feel bad and just give it.

After all,you two can be together forever if you do!

#blueycapsules #blueycapsules x reader #blueycapsules william #blueycapsules dave #dave miller #william afton

[yehet-about-it]

I Like Me Better | 23 - Bear Hugs

~ A Wayv Social Media AU Series ~

< Prev || Series Masterlist || Next >

Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new apartment with your best friend Yangyang, but you’re immediately faced with a problem: your incredibly noisy upstairs neighbour Xiao Dejun, or to friends, Xiaojun. You spend the first few weeks of your acquaintance hating his guts, but after a sincere apology and a fascinating revelation about his passions and motivations you slowly begin to see past his cold exterior to discover the real him. What will happen as you get closer to this troubled boy and how will those closest to you react?

Pairing: Reader x Xiao Jun

Themes and Warnings: Explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence and references to drinking/alcohol. Deals with themes of toxic masculinity, insecurity, gaslighting (sort of), and jealousy…

~ Updates now every Monday, Wednesday & Friday @ 9pm GMT/3pm CST

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Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter Warnings: A whole lot of fluff and a lil bit of smut towards the end... Sorry if you were expecting more smut but I legit cannot bring myself to write it for our smol boy 👀😅

Your shoulders ached as you shuffled into your living room having showered and made yourself just about presentable, compared to the sweaty state you were in earlier. You and some of your colleagues had been recruited for a stage at the Asia Song Festival this year and were now spending at least 8 hours a day in the studio practicing, hence why you felt like all the energy had been sucked from your body. Not that you could complain because it was a great opporunity, but 8 plus hours certainly took it out of you. What you really needed was cuddles, but since Yangyang wasn’t the huggy type and was out walking bella, and Kun was most likely still at work, for now you’d have to suffice with your oversized teddy.

You sigh as you waddle through the empty room, flopping down onto your imaginitively named Mr. Gom in the corner, wondering when Xiaojun would be here with your coffee, and just like magic, as soon as the thought pops into your head, the front door clicks and the man himself emerges from your hallway calling out to you.

“Y/n?” he calls, making his way into your living room, not having seen you tucked away in the corner, squished beneath your teddy bear’s oversized paw. “Here!” you call out, struggling to even lift your head, let alone stand up to greet him. Xiaojun’s face breaks out into a grin as he realises where the voice is coming from, his internal dialogue squealing over how incredibly endearing you look clinging onto the teddy in the corner.

“You okay down there?” he says with a tone of amusement, striding up to you, two cups of coffee in hand. You whine in response, indicating you are very much not okay and still laughing, Xiaojun sets the two coffees down on the table, taking his phone out and clicking a photo of you as you cuddle into your bear.

Hearing his phone camera click, you whip your head around, looking up at him with a pout. “Hey!” you whine, scowling at him with contempt, but seeing you curled up looking tiny next to the huge teddy bear Xiaojun can’t find it in him to put on a straight face and shrugs. “Heh, sorry, you looked kind of cute though.” Xiaojun chuckles, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Here.”

Xiaojun picks one of the coffees up off of the table and hands it to you. “You, xiaojun, are a life saver,” you utter, perking up a little as you graciously accept the warm creamy beverage from him, inhaling deeply as the rich scent of fresh coffee wafts up from your cup. Thank god you only live a five minute walk from Starbucks. “Oh you know, some do say I’m a bit of a hero,” he jokes, shrugging before picking up his own coffee from the table to sip on.

Crossing your legs, you rock yourself forward so you can stand up, being careful not to spill any of your coffee and wander over to sit on the couch. “So you were at Hendery’s?” You ask casually, taking a sip of your coffee. “Yeah, we were working out this evening, which is why I’m all sweaty, so I’m gonna go take a shower, but we can hang out after if you like?” Xiaojun asks, downing the remnants of his coffee which he’d of course drank the majority of on his walk back. “Sure, thanks for the coffee!” You reply, smiling despite being a little disappointed that he wasn’t staying. “No problem, see you in a bit”.

Xiaojun turns, seeing himself out of your apartment, leaving you to sip on your latte alone. You weren’t usually that desparate for company, quite happy by yourself unlike Yangyang, but you’d had a long day and you were growing to realise that Xiaojun was someone you wanted to be around at times like this, so as the door clicks behind him, you can’t help but feel a little sad, half wishing he would just come back and sit in a cuddle pile with you and Mr. Gom.

You sit alone with your thoughts for a while, wondering when the hell Yangyang would be back from walking Bella until your phone lights up with an instagram notification. Opening it, you look in dismay as you realise that Xiaojun has posted the picture of you slumped against Mr.Gom. After scowling at it for a while though, you decide that in fact it’ really sort of cute. After all, there he was, a stubborn and supposed ‘tough guy’ posting a picture of you looking all tiny, slumped against a giant ass bear, which by definition was pretty damn adorable.

You giggle as the comments roll in from Xiaojun’s friends, mentally facepalming when Yangyang decides to bring up your morning routine of flopping down on the bear and refusing to move for ten minutes. A blush rises across your cheeks though as you receive a message from Xiaojun. You hadn’t quite been expecting that, but right now you’d give your right arm to be curled up next to him. Despite your best efforts, you smile as you read Xiaojun’s invitation for you to go upstairs, leaping to your feet as quickly as possible given your aching muscles and go to grab your sliders to flip flop up the stairs in.

As soon as you get upstairs you knock tentatively on the door before pushing it open and calling out to Xiaojun. You’d been in his apartment a couple times before now, so instead of waiting for him to answer you find your way into the aparment and straight to the living room where Xiaojun is sat waiting on his sofa, scrolling through netflix on the tv. His soft dark brown locks unstyled and messy, still a little damp from the shower and you have a struggle to control your thirst as he turns to peer at you, highlighting his surprisingly elegant side profile. “Hey,” he regards, as you shuffle towards him. “Come sit.” Xiaojun pats the space next to him continuing to scroll through what netflix has to offer and you go to join him, opting to sit close to him but not so close that you’re touching. You don’t want to come off too needy.

“Still tired?” he aks as you settle into the cushions. “Mhm.” You hum in response, showing a weary smile, but trying your best not too seem like you’re too tired to be there. Despite your apparent need for sleep, you’d rather cuddle up in front of a film with him than sit in your empty apartment scrolling through the same old crap on your phone until you passed out. “You want to just put a film on and chill then? I have a blanket” Xiaojun says, nodding towards a fuzzy grey throw draped across the end of the couch. “That sounds perfect right now” you sigh, your fingers nervously pulling at the hem of your top. “What do you want to watch?”

After a minute or so of debating what to watch, you settle on one of the marvel films, and whilst Xiaojun fiddles with the remote, adjusting the volume, you set about getting the blanket off the end so you can snuggle up for the film. As you throw the blanket over you, Xiaojun shifts back a little to put his arm around you and you snuggle against his chest as though it were the most natural thing in the world, which comes as a bit of a surprise, considering you’d never really done this with Xiaojun before. However, happiness bubbles up in your chest as you sink into his warmth and begin to relax, curling up comfily in Xiaojun’s arms. “Mm you smell nice” you hum, noticing the fresh citrussy scent, on him, presumably from his shower. Nestling your cheek into Xiaojun’s collar he chuckles, the vibrations reverberating through his chest. “A lot better than earlier for sure”.

The film is one you’ve both seen before, so although you were quiet to start with, eventually you begin talking and by now you’re no longer really paying much attention to the screen.

Whilst you babble on about this or that, you begin to feel Xiaojun’s thumb absent-mindedly stroking up and down your waist where your top had ridden up, the sensation of it delicately brushing against your cool skin sending a pleasant tingle up your spine. The action, whilst it slowly began to set your body alight also seemed to have the effect of relieving a good part of the tension that had built up in your muscles over the course of the day and you start melting even further into Xiaojun, feeling a sense of bliss wash over you. Xiaojun picks up on this, and his ministrations become more deliberate, now using his whole hand to caress your waist, the tips of his fingers dipping ever so slightly into your waistband, but not invasively.

At this point you’d finished whatever you’d had to say and were now just revelling in the warm feeling of being curled up against Xiaojun, the only sound to be heard the voices of captain america and presumably some other S.H.I.E.L.D agent in the background.

Shifting your head to look up at Xiaojun, you find him looking not at the screen but straight back down at you, your faces just mere inches apart and whatever you had been thinking of saying completely vanished from your mid as Xiaojun’s head bobs down, pressing a light kiss to your lips. You smile against him as he pulls away, just barely leaving an inch between you. He seems to be hesitating for a moment, not entirely sure whether it’s okay to continue, but you can’t help but want more, so you angle yourself round a little, placing your free hand at the bottom of his neck, squeezing encouragingly and bring your lips back to his. Xiaojun, all too happy to return the kiss, quickly finds a rhythm, not fast, but slow and sensual, the exact kind of kiss you need in your tired hazy state.

As the kiss deepens, Xiaojun pushes you back slightly so you’re tucked into the corner of the couch beneath him, your legs draped over his and his hand, that until now had been resting innocently just above your knee, starts to softly knead at your flesh through your leggings, moving ever so slightly higher sending small jolts through your nerves to your core. “This is okay right?” He whispers, drawing away momentarily, and looking down at you with concern, his big chocolatey eyes baring into yours. You nod quickly, surrendering yourself to Xiaojun’s touch and letting out a small whine when he resumes, planting small, sensuous kisses up your jawline.

Soon the fingers that had been gently brushing across the skin of your waist begin to venture slowly down over your panties, getting further until they reach between your legs and you moan lightly, involuntarily arching your back into Xiaojun’s touch. This really hadn’t been where you were envisioning this night going, expecting just a wholesome evening of cuddles, since you and Xiaojun’s relationship wasn’t really at that stage yet, but honestly, you didn’t mind all that much.

You let out a gasp, gripping at the nape of his neck as Xiaojun suddenly pushes your panties aside, drawing one of his fingers through your slick testing to see if you might be ready for more. Finding that you’re plenty wet enough, the same finger swirls around your bud a few times before it’s removed completely. “Can I take these off?” He says huskily, fingering the waistband of your leggings and panties.

You almost nod, wanting to give into the desire bubbling up in your core, but you hesitate, wondering that perhaps you weren’t ready to take things that far just yet. Sure, you were getting a lot closer with Xiaojun by now, but you’d still only been on the one date and you were still trying to figure out exactly what you really wanted from this relationship. You weren't sure you wanted to cross that threshold until you were absolutely certain about it.

Sensing your hesitation, Xiaojun draws away slightly, respectfully allowing you space to breathe as you make up your mind. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I don’t want to rush you.” He whispers, continuing to rub soothing circles into your skin just above your pants. “I’m sorry,” you murmur back, having come to a conclusion. “Can we maybe just make out?”

Your bashful request makes Xiaojun giggle as you wear a sheepish expression, a teeny bit embarrassed you’d let it go so far only to cop out on him right when things were starting to get a bit steamy. But Xiaojun smiles back at you, running a hand through his hair as he sits up, taking his weight off you. “If that’s what you want, sorry if I got a bit ahead of myself” he admits.

Gently taking your hand, Xiaojun helps you sit up, before sliding you to sit on his lap facing him. Perhaps not the best position for seeing the tv screen, but by now the film was all but forgotten about, and it was the best position for making out in. “Sorry,” you reiterate, settling on his lap with your hands placed against his chest, taking note of the apparent abs that seemed to lie under his shirt. “It’s not you or anything, I’m just not sure I’m ready yet.”

You speak softly wanting to reassure him he didn’t do anything wrong, looking down at him with adoring eyes, the lust you had felt momentarily starting to dissipate into affection. “That’s okay,” he replies, giving you a playful peck on the lips.

You respond in kind, flashing him a happy smile before choosing that moment to resume making out, your lips gently moving against his as his arms wrap around your waist in a bear-like hug holding you safely against him.

Your eyes flutter closed, your body taking over as you relish in Xiaojun’s sweet embrace, feeling all your uneasiness and soreness from the day dissolving away, and xiaojun hums against your lips, apparently feeling the same.

“Hmm, perfect.”

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#wayv au #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv fanfic #wayv fake texts #wayv fake chats #wayv scenarios #wayv social media au #wayv smut #wayv smau #xiaojun x reader #xiaojun x you #xiaojun x y/n #xiaojun au #xiaojun angst #xiaojun imagine #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun fanfic #xiaojun fake texts #wayv xiaojun fluff #xiaojun fake chats #xiaojun scenarios #xiaojun smut #xiaojun social media au #xiaojun smau #wayv xiaojun au #wayv xiaojun imagines #wayv xiaojun smut

[writefightandflightclub]

Out from the cold (Llewyn Davis x reader)

Summary: Llewyn (precious baby) needs your comfort, and oddly, looking after him comforts you too. Fluff but a lil angst to get to the comfort.

Author’s note: I’m doing soft blurbs bc you all deserve a hug from one of our fave fictional husbands. Let’s all destress and be comforted one blurb at a time, okay? (Dunno how many I can do but gonna try and blitz a few requests out tonight. I’m doing these quickly so they’ll be a bit scrappy, please forgive!) ALSO THIS IS EXCITING I’VE NEVER WRITTEN LLEWYN BEFORE AND I’M KINDA HAPPY WITH IT! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK? (I love this movie so much, one of my all-time favourites, and one of my fave Oscar performances.)

Warnings: just Llewyn swearing, as per. Alcohol and cigs. No drunkeness. Mentions of homeessness / couch-surfing. Mention of abortion.

GIF by @digginmovies​

It’s late when he shows up at your door. Or rather, it’s late when you find him in your hallway. You don’t know how long he’s been standing there, because he didn’t even knock. Perhaps he was too afraid to, but by the time you eventually stopped pacing your floorboards and threw a scarf around you, you’d come to fear the worst; that he’d been beaten and left in a gutter or some doorway, or perhpas that he was just stubbornly wandering the streets, preferring to freeze to death rather than “bother” you. Or worse than that... perhaps he’d finally struck lucky and you’d never see him again. Now that he no longer needed your couch, maybe he no longer needed you.

Anyway, all of your fears were entirely unfounded, and it was a shock to find him there, leaning up against the wall. The shortest missing person recovery mission ever known.

“Llewyn?” you question, sighing in frustration and unwrapping your suddenly suffocating red scarf.

His whole body is an apology as he turns his head towards you. Eyes apologetic. Shoulders apologetic. That sorry cord jacket is very, very sorry indeed. Hell, even his curls slump over his forehead in a despondent way, as if they’ve given up too.

This precious man. Why doesn’t he know how special he is? Why does he always dwell in the shadows, rather than allowing himself to be welcomed into this warm, light-bathed apartment of yours. Why doesn’t he realise that he is a light himself, and not a burden? That his presence alone can furnish and illuminate any room. Can compel audiences and, certainly, can move you to train your eyes on him as if he is a star under a perpetual spotlight.

Well, you suppose you should just be thankful that he’s here at all, because he always seems an instant away from slipping into shadow and never coming out again. You are thankful. You are always thankful to find him on your doorstep.

“How did it go?” you ask him, and Llewyn pushes himself up from the wall, despondently shaking his head. He stuffs his hands into his pockets and simply stands there as if forgetting any purpose which might cause him to move. You have to shuffle forwards yourself to give him the hug you feel he so desperately needs, even if he doesn’t know he deserves it. You wrap you arms around him, and it’s a little awkward, and he’s stiff, and he feels of wool and cord beneath your fingertips. Smells of frost and cigarette smoke, and like he hasn’t managed to run his clothes through the laundry in a few days. You make a note to do that for him, if you can coax him into a warm bath later.

“Can I please stay with you?” Llewyn asks in a small voice.

You don’t let go of him, willing him to soften against you.

“Llewyn, you dont have to ask me that, you live here.” You say it like it’s obvious, yet this simple fact is something you are endlessly trying to convince him of.

“I sleep on your couch, because I have no fucking money. Because I’m a piece of shit musician who can’t book a gig except for the Gaslight. And that’s only because I knocked-up a chick who gets me a slot out of pity some nights because she aborted my baby.”

“Llewyn!” you say, heartbroken and disbelieving that he could talk about himself in such a way, and looking, in your shock, like you might come for a piece of him too for thinking so little of himself. But, the world keeps kicking this poor man when he’s down, and he’s running out of energy to keep getting back up, so there’s something in you which can’t blame him.

“I’m just tired. I’m just so fuckin’ tired.”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, that thick, soft beard under your fingertips.

“Llewyn,” you say softly, searching his melancholy eyes. You want to tell him how talented he is, how important. How special, like you have a hundred times before, but he won’t beleive you. Never does. So, instead, you try something you never have before. At least, not while sober. You dip forward and press a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pull away before his lips have time to react, though even if you had lingered, you’re not sure he would have. You swear that man is so touch-starved that he can no longer recognise affection. That he can no longer remember how to move his lips against another’s. You swear he’s too down on himself that he doesn’t remember how to respond to being wanted.

“Come inside. Your lips are like ice,” you say, and it’s true. You only wish you could thaw him.

Llewyn picks up his guitar case and finally follows you inside, taking his familiar spot on the couch and folding his arms around himself, not even taking off his scarf or jacket. Sometimes you worry that his chill goes all the way down to his bones. Just incase it can help with that, you make him some warm tea and wordlessly pass the mug to him.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, leaning forward in his seat as you sit at the other end of  the couch from him, watching him gripping the warm beverage in his fingerless gloves like he’s never known a warm touch like it.

You sit quietly next to him and allow him to thaw a little, watching the steam rising from the mug as he takes careful sips. It has begun to lash with rain outside, the percussive sound and howl of wind muffled against the window pane, and pleasantly soothing. At least, it sounds soothing to you; Llewyn probably thinks it’s that dark cloud following him around again.

“Have you eaten?”

“Waffles. Had some Gaslight money left,” he says in monotone, staring intently at a particular spot on your hardwood floor. He didn’t make nutritionally sound choices, it seems, but at least he’s had something.

“Good,” you nod. “And do you want to talk about the audition?”

“Nope,” Llewyn responds dejectedly, popping the “p” emphatically.

When he’s drained the cup he sets it down, eventually unwinding his scarf from around his neck and shuffling off his gloves and jacket. Without all his layers he looks a little like a lost baby bird without its nest, or like a winter tree without it’s covering of leaves.

You take a risk in an attempt to perk him up and head towards the vinyl player, dropping the needle on a record you know he likes. And then, you reseat yourself on the couch, a little closer to him this time.

Llewyn finally turns to you, elbows resting on his thighs, looking just a little less morose. “Got any wine? And cigarettes?”

Now, that you could do.

You oblige him, and before long you are sipping on a glass of red, and you let Llewyn rant freely about the audition he doesn’t want to talk about at his leisure, a cigarette bobbing in-between his lips as he talks, smoke wafting around his face and his hair like the ghost of his own curls. You let him rant about the cookie-cutter, soulless, talentless musicians who make it, and the blood-sucking label execs, and the tasteless consumers, and the whole damn thing, until his shoulders look a little less heavy. A little less apologetic. Until he forgets himself and picks up his guitar and begins to mindlessly pluck and strum away.

He starts to sing under his breath, because he can’t help but sing. Because it comes naturally to him, and suddenly he is the only light in your living room. He is under his own super trouper, against the backdrop of the rainy window pane. Light shining against melancholy.

As lovely as he is to look at, with the way his left cheek tugs up with his words and his brow creases with feeling, you close your eyes as his voice filters through into your bones, making you warm from within.

“I love it when you sing,” you say sincerely, and you don’t know it, but your simple, honest words are music to Llewyn’s ears. Those words are something he hears startingly seldom for a man with a talent like his.

Your eyes are still closed when you hear the chaotic thrum of strings as Llewyn sets the guitar down. Your eyes are still closed as Llewyn kneels before you and slides his hands along your thighs, palms down. Your eyes open just before he dips his head and presses a chaste, smoky kiss to your lips.

Your lips do not react. If Llewyn was too touch-starved to kiss you back earlier, you suppose you are too surprised that he might want you back. You want to kiss him, and apparently he wants to kiss you, but you are singing different bars of the same song. Your timing is all off. So, your lips do not meld with his, no matter how long you’ve waited for this. Wanted it. This time too, his mouth was even warm against yours. His hands warm against you. Thawing.

You smile at him, softly. Catiously. As if you might scare him off. As if he is a wild animal who has dropped to his knees for you.

Instead, he remains as you bring your hands back to either side of his face, and lose yourself in his dark, turbulent stare. It is you who suddenly feels catious, as if he is a storm which might swallow you. Might paint you in licks of grey if you don’t first heal his pain. His eyes are raw. Broken apart, and his beautiful soul so exposed beneath them. No wonder he is so guarded. Feels so vulnerable. His heart is so open and so wounded beneath the expletives and the apathy and the lucklessness, isn’t it? It would be so easy to break, like a lost bird far from its nest.

But this time, he stays. Llewyn simply looks right back into your eyes, for once. And when he undoubtedly notices your evident desire there, all he does is question why you are looking at him at all.

“Why do you want me?” he asks you, plainly, shaking his head softly. He doesn’t say more, but you swear you could guess his thought. You could have any Tom, Dick, or Harry. Or a Chad. Some rich, muscly dude with a centre part and a Corvette. I’m nothing. Nobody.

Your mouth forms a bashful, thin line, and you shrug your shoulders, placing your hands over his palms. You desperately want to show him he is somebody.

“I dunno. Why do you sing, Llewyn? Why do birds make music? I just do. I want you. My soul tells me I should, and I listen.”

He looks sad. So sad, So tired, and so you do the only thing your soul tells you to in this moment. You comfort him. You reach up and tangle your fingers into that mess of crotchet black curls on his head. You stroke him and soothe him, and he gives in to you, burying his head in your lap and letting you touch him. Letting you smooth your hands and your fingers and thumbs over his hair, his neck, his back, his shoulders. He wraps his arms around your lower legs and curls around them, still sat at your feet like a stray who refuses to be a house cat, despite how many times you try to coax him in from out of the cold.

“Llewyn, come lie with me a while?” you ask gently, and he looks up at you, unsure. Still, he clambers up from his position and is about to recline on the sofa when you grab his hand. “No, Llewyn. Come lie with me in my bed?”

He gulps, as if you might eat him alive, but he follows as you guide him as if it might be a relief to climb into your jaws anyway, and you lead him by the hand along the hallway and into your room.

He watches you with hesitant fascination as you shrug off your layers, down to your underwear. Then, he follows suit, letting his worn trousers and white t-shirt pool on to the floor at his feet, until he’s standing in only his patterned boxers.

You climb under the covers, shivering at the autumn chill in the room, and you hold the tented covers open for Llewyn to climb in after you.

“Y-You want me to... W-what do you wanna do?”

“Nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you’ll let me, I just want to hold you.”

He hesitates, but he’s cold, and so, so alone, and he’s so tired of never having anything he wants. So tired that he’s willing to forget, just this once, that he can’t give you what you deserve. Or at least to stop consciously reminding himself of it.

He slots his soft, slim body under the covers, and you let the blanket fall over him. Then, you lie on your back and pull him on top of you, until his body covers yours and his head nestles on the cushion of your breasts.

It is quiet enough in the room that you hear him gulp again, but he doesn’t bolt. Once he’s settled, your wrap him in your arms, your fingers twining in his hair, carding through those thick, tangled curls. Your hands smooth up and down his back, until he is humming softly, his face entirely buried in your chest. “Sweet man,” you soothe, and listen to the sound of the rain outside, and the background noise of the record player filtering through. “I know it’s not much, but I love it when you sing. I wish I could give you riches for it, and record deals. But all I have to give in return is a little piece of my heart, and you steal a piece of it every time I hear your voice,” you whisper gently.

Llewyn is silent, and you wonder if you might have scared him off, but he seems quite content exactly where he is. You wish he would stay, but you know he has a cycle of houses, like a traitourous street cat with nowhere he feels deserving to call home.

For now though, he is here, and you begin to sing gently along to the song filtering through from the living room. It’s one of your favourites. One which Llewyn has sung for you many times before.

You look down at the side of his face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek, and his beard twitching as his full lips tug up into a faint smile. Finally.

“You have a pretty voice, dove,” he says, and your heart clenches at the pet name. At the fact you have finally found a way to make him happy. You should have realised it would be music.

“No, Llewyn. It’s nothing compared to you.”

“I dunno. You probably have more chance of making it than I do. Maybe you should have gone today instead.” You worry that he has been tugged back into a slump, but you see he is still smiling, and you recognise the humour in his tone, self-deprecating though it is.

By the next chorus, Llewyn begins to softly sing along too, and your heart flutters as his voice vibrates against your bosom.

You tug in a deep, happy breath, and exhale spring into the autumn room.

Llewyn props himself on to his elbows and shuffles up the bed, until his face is level with your own.

You regard him catiously, feeling suddenly as flighty as he usually is.

“What do you want to do?” you ask him, as his lips hover close to yours.

“Nothin’ you don’t want to,” he says, mirroring your words from moments ago.

This time, when your lips meet, softly, neither of you are surprised. This time, your mouths are both warm and moving together, like you sing the words to a shared song, both melding in time.

As Llewyn curls around your body and snuggles into you for warmth, you hope you can get him to stay. You hope you’ve showed him he doesn’t need to wander in the cold any longer.

He has your heart after all, and you need him to bring it indoors; out from the cold.

#llewyn x reader #llewyn davis x reader #inside llewyn davis #inside llewyn davis fanfiction #llewyn davis fic #llewyn angst #llewyn fluff #coen brothers #oscar isaac

[kiirokero]

My Hope (JHS)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Lil bit of Fluff, Mutual Pining, (old?)Best Friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,870

Summary:  You were only trying to forget the love you knew you could never have, but now you were trapped in a hell. You’ve had enough and you find yourself at the doorstep of the one who you truly loved, soaking wet and broken.

Warnings: Mentions of a domestic abusive relationship, verbal, emotional, light physical abuse (bruising), manipulation, gaslighting (kinda?), yelling, degradation (and not the smexy kind), light panicking, abusive isolation, just a lot of horrible shit. 

Note: PLEASE don’t read if the warning topics are triggering for you.

     Cold. That's all I could feel right now. My hands like icicles as the unforgiving frost of the city bit at the tips of my ears and nose. Was I really doing the right thing? My legs aching as I continued my journey to the only place I could turn to. He said he'd change. He always said that. Every time. Maybe this time will be different. How many times has it been? 5? 10? I've lost count, but I was stuck.

     1... 2... 3... I counted my steps to keep my mind off of the situation that plagued it. It was his fault, right? It wasn't mine? Would he have acted like that if it was anybody else? He's always been jealous. Insecure. Reassurance a constant sound coming from my vocal cords, only because I didn’t want to do the alternative. 

     18... 19... 20... Am I walking too slow? I should be there by now. Am I lost? Will I succumb to the cold in an alleyway all by myself? My feet like the stone statues that stood in the middle of the city. Their empty stares the only thing to keep me company. The patter of rain the only music filling my ears. Lonely. I was always so lonely. Even when the arms of the person I falsely gave my heart to were wrapped around my ever dying body.

     50... 51... 52... What happened to me? I used to be so happy. My smile a genuine painting on my face rather than a mask constantly in my hand. I used to have friends, family; I used to have him...A piece of me was taken away with every hateful word spat at me. I was no better than the cold stone men. The fire in my soul reduced to a pathetic ember. My glowing skin diminished into scratchy leather. My will to keep going now nothing more than a scrap of paper. Burnt. Torn. Crumpled.

     87... 88... 89... I had to do it. I couldn't take it anymore. My life had been ripped away from me. He trapped me in a hellscape with false promises of love. Lured me in with a chance to forget. To forget about him. Happiness... I wanted it back. I want my friends back. I wanted my family back. My hobbies, my freedom, him.

I wanted Hoseok back.

     "Who was that?" My boyfriend, Hajoon, snapped as I closed the door. "The new neighbor..." I faltered. Hajoon just scoffed and stood up. Walking towards me as my heart rate spiked. Not again. "Oh really? And what did he want?" He taunted, annoyance written all over his face. "H-he just wanted to introduce himself..." I stuttered. "Why are you stuttering? I swear you'd never survive without me. You're so pathetic." He huffed as he harshly grabbed my chin, making me look at him. "Don't talk to him again, got it?" I nodded and he let go. "You love me and you'd never leave me. Right Y/N?" He questioned. "Right... I'd never leave you..."

     "Hobi! How's the tour going!" I exclaimed, happy to get a call from my best friend. "Y/N! It's going well! It's been a blast performing and meeting Army's." He chirped. Hajoon was out, meaning that I could talk to Hoseok without worry. Hajoon never liked Hoseok. Whenever I would mention my beloved best friend, he would get angry. He would yell and me tell me I shouldn't talk to him. I didn't listen though, Hoseok has been with me through everything. I could never drop him. Never. "Why haven't you been visiting more, Y/N? We miss you!" Hoseok asked, a hint of sadness laced in his voice. "Ah, I would but... Hajoon doesn't like when I go out without him..." I hesitated. "Y/n... Hajoon doesn't own you. You can do things without his approval. You're an adult, okay?" Hoseok stated. "I know, but..." I froze as I heard the door open.

     "I-I gotta go, I'll talk to you when I can..." I panicked, hanging up the phone before Hoseok could say anything. "Y/n? Who are you talking to?" Hajoon called out. "M-my mom!" I called back, tears stinging my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "She just wanted to check up on me..." I quickly deleted my call history, leaving a call from my mom earlier today at the top. I knew that if Hajoon didn't believe me, he'd look at my call history. The last time I lied about who I was talking to, he yelled at me for hours. Hajoon walked into our shared bedroom staring coldly at me. "What did you guys talk about?" He asked. "She was just asking how my life is... telling me how they are..." I mumbled. "What did you say?" He commanded me to tell him. "I- I said I was fine..." Hajoon nodded, satisfied, and laid down on the bed, beckoning me into his arms.

     I complied, curling up next to him, my head in his chest. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew how he was treating me was wrong. He feared getting caught. Scared I'd run away. Slipping from his grasp. He was insecure. He needed someone to control in order to feel that he had power. Why did it have to be me? "I love you." He mumbled. I hesitated, not wanting to say those sacred words, but my mind when back to what happened every time I didn't say it back. 'I give you everything, yet you're so ungrateful?' 'You just take and take, don't you?' 'You'd have nothing without me!' 'You need me.'

"I- I love you too..."

     "Where the hell we're you?!" I winced at the sound of my yelling boyfriend. "I was out with friends... I told you last night that they wanted to go see a movie with me..." I mumbled. Fear and anxiety already coursing through my body. "And I thought I told you that I didn't want you to go?!" He screamed. Hoseok's words ran through my mind 'You're an adult'. That's the only reason I could pick myself up and go out. "I..." I stumbled out, "I'm an adult... I can make my own decisions..." The room was silent. I looked up to see Hajoon looking at me with an unreadable expression.

     "Oh, really?" He said in a monotone manner, scaring me even more. He wasn't yelling anymore, but I could tell he was mad, he was really mad. He started stepping towards me, causing me to back up, hitting my back against the empty living room wall. "Really?" He said again, this time in a more spiteful tone. He harshly grabbed my wrist, squeezing it tight. I cried out at the sudden pain. "You're an adult? You don't act like it. You're like a child leeching off of me, ungratefully taking everything from me, yet you want to say you're an adult?!" My eyes were watering and my heart rammed against my ribcage, I could hear the sound in my ears. "You made me quit my job... So I wouldn't have my own money..." I whispered. But he heard it, and he squeezed my wrist even tighter. "I do this because I love you." He stated. But I've had it, I've had enough. "No! No, you don't! You don't love me! This isn't love!"

     I struggled in his grip, managing to get free as I bolted for the door. I had to get out of there. I burst the door open and ran down the street. Ignoring the yells that came from behind me. I just kept running and running. Rain roughly hitting my face, mixing with the salty tears slipping from my eyes.

     I looked down at my bruising wrist, the sight not new to me. The bruise was like a bracelet to me now. An accessory I would wear to remind me I made him mad, and he went too far. I curled my knees against my chest, cold and wet, shivering in front of my best friend's door. I took my phone out of my pocket. 9 pm. When I got home it was 7, was I really running for that long?

     Hoseok's place was a 30-minute drive from mine, but walking/running was a different story. The twists and turns of the city streets adding on extra time to my commute. I didn't want to call him. It was Sunday night. Every Sunday night, Hoseok would go to BigHit's dance studio and practice more by himself, starting at 6 and ending at 8. Then the long drive back home. That was his Sunday routine. I didn't want to bother him. His dancing was important to him, and he loved it. I didn't want to ruin his night by interrupting him. I didn't want to be a bother.

     Irrational fears ran through my head, torturing me. Did I have any right to be here? Would he be mad at me? Why would he be mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I can't handle it. I can't handle the yelling, the screaming. I can't handle the hate, the fake love. I couldn't handle being trapped. A dying bird in a rusty cage. I wanted freedom, craved it. Tonight, I finally got it. Now I just needed the warm, comforting arms and the smooth voice of my best friend to tell me everything is going to be okay.

     "Y-Y/n?" I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a worried-looking Hoseok, still dressed in workout clothes and a duffle bag in hand. As soon as I saw his face, tears spilled out of my eyes, "Hobi?" I hiccuped. He wasted no time rushing to me, kneeling in front of me, holding me close. "Y/n, you're soaking wet! What happened?" I couldn't answer him as I choked out tears. Hoseok could tell I was too hysterical to give him an answer, so he picked me up and walked inside his apartment.

     "Hey, hey, it's okay. I need you to calm down, Y/n. Can you do that for me?" Hoseok comforted me as brought me to the bathroom and sat me on the side of the tub. I nodded my head and Hoseok ran me through a breathing exercise. It didn’t calm me down entirely, but at least I could speak now. Hoseok kneeled in front of me and held one of my hands as the other one worked on wiping my tears away. "I'm sorry..." I whispered. "No, Y/n, I don't what to hear any of that. You have nothing to be sorry for." Hoseok stated, "But, what happened?"

     "Hajoon... Hajoon happened." I said, his name like tar in my mouth. Hoseok's face contorted in disgust. "I knew it..." He whispered to himself. I could see the mental battle he was having in his head plastered on his face. It read guilt and regret. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom. He soon returned with a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, handing them to me. "Go ahead and change, I don't want my sunshine to get sick." My heart skipped a beat at the old nickname he always used for me.

     Sunshine. He's been calling me that since forever. But when I got in a relationship with Hajoon, he stopped out of respect, since sunshine sounded so loving to Hajoon. I forgot just how much I missed it. Hajoon was never that loving to me, Hoseok treated me better than him from the start. Loving Hoseok scared me. He had a dream. He was a star and I was a nobody compared to him. I was scared I wasn't good enough for him. So when the puppy love between me and Hajoon started, I took it as an opportunity to keep me from impeding Hoseok and his dream. But it backfired, it backfired so badly.

     I stepped out of the bathroom, walking to the living room that seemed like a distant memory now. I remembered when I would practically spend days straight at Hoseok's house, even if he had work, it was my second home until Hajoon ripped that away from me. He told me that it was unfaithful to spend so much time at Hoseok’s, and not wanting to hurt his feelings, I listened to him. I was so stupid. Hoseok walked out the kitchen, dressed in lounge clothes, leftover takeout in hand as he motioned for me to sit down. I complied silently. We said nothing to each other, but we didn't have to. We didn't need to fill the silence with conversation just yet. We just needed each other.

     Hoseok set the food down on the table in front of us and sat down, grabbing pieces of food with a pair of chopsticks and feeding me. The loving gesture almost made me sob. After he deemed I was fed well, he wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me tight. Afraid that if he were to let go, someone would take me away from him again. "You can talk when you're ready." He whispered to me, petting my hair lovingly. I did just that. I talked and talked. Going on and on about how Hajoon would treat me, how he would yell and scream, how he would lash out than apologize afterward, promising to change. I told him how he didn't like me hanging out with my friends or visiting family. If I went out, he had to go with me. If I was on the phone, he had to know who was on the other side. If he told me he loved me, I had to say it back, or things wouldn't be pretty. "How long has this been going on?" Hoseok asked. "A couple months after we got together... It started out small, but then it spiraled. Before I knew it, I was trapped in a loveless relationship, too scared to run." I shivered as I sunk into Hoseok's arms even more.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been there," Hoseok whispered.

"It's okay Hobi, just... hold me."

"Why didn't you call me? You shouldn't have walked all the way over here."

"I knew you were practicing."

"Y/n," He breathed, "I'd drop anything for you."

"I know how important your job is to you Hobi..."

"You're more important."

     Silence engulfed us again, Hoseok gently rocking me back and forth. Loving Hoseok was scary, but I wouldn't hold myself back anymore. I wouldn't dance around the issue. I couldn't deny what my heart wanted and what it wanted all along. Last time I did, Hajoon reduced me to a scrap of myself. 

      Hajoon would hug me, but they weren’t like Hoseok’s. Hajoon would hold me, but it wasn’t like Hoseok. Hajoon said he loved me, but he wasn’t Hoseok. He was never Hoseok. He could never be Hoseok. 

"I didn't love him." I sniffled. "I never did. He wasn't the person I wanted, Hobi."

"Who did you want...?" Hoseok hesitated.

"I wanted my hope..." I choked out, tears threatening to fall again.

      Hoseok held me tighter. A stray tear fell on the top of my head, telling me he needed to hear that. That single tear told me so much. He regretted not being there for me through this. He felt like it was his fault. If only he knew, things would be different. If only he told me he loved me, this would've never happened.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Hoseok croaked out, sniffling.

"I was just scared of what he would to do me..." I winced.

"Did he hurt you?" Hoseok asked.

I stayed silent. He pulled away to look me in the eye, his own tears glistening under the light.

"Sunshine. Did he hurt you?" He pressed.

I couldn't resist him whenever he called me that, so I just silently nodded.

"Where?"

     I showed him my wrist. The purple splotches wrapping around it reminding me of the invisible handcuffs Hajoon had me in for so long. "He's disgusting..." He scoffed, gently taking my wrist in his hands, examining the deep bruises. I unconsciously flinched, earning a look of sadness from Hoseok, more tears falling from his face. "Was this the first time?" I shook my head, causing Hoseok to take a deep breath. "Tomorrow, we'll go get your things and bring them here. I'll deal with him." I looked up at the man in front of me. Instead of his somber look, his face showed a mad one. Hoseok was always scary when mad. The aura that radiated off of him was a threatening one. "I don't want to go back there, Hobi..." I mumbled. Hoseok slowly put a hand on my cheek and stroked my cheekbone with his thumb. His moves were slow and gentle, not wanting to scare me. "Don't worry, he won't be there when we go."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He'll be rotting in a cell."

"...Jail?"

"He committed a crime, Y/n," He stated.

"...Thank you Hobi. I missed you..."

"I missed you too, sunshine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you..."

"I love you..." I squeezed him tighter.

"I love you too, sunshine."

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

Bewitched ——————————————-

The adventures of Theodore continue. Figuring out how he feels about what he saw in town is... well. Difficult. But he’s gotta make a decision sometime. Featuring fun times with his siblings and a not-so-fun time with his parents. 

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————-

i am once again cutting chapters up, but that’s ok!!! i’m having fun and getting to write these dynamics is rlly interesting! hopefully the next one’ll be a lil shorter, but we’ll see X] in the meantime, here’s this!

and uh, warning for journal getting into a fight with his parents (nothing physical, but there’s some gaslighting to be mindful of) 

The sun shone brightly down on the farm, a light breeze rustling the remains of cornstalks in the field. The wagon- still half full of harvest- was parked next to the barn. A thick cloth blanket kept its cargo protected from the elements. At least, mostly. The horses in the nearby pasture eyed the visible corn wistfully. But besides the horses, crops, and breeze, not much was moving outside. The morning chores were long done. Now was the time for relaxing and play. From the giggling and shouting from the barn, a certain group of siblings was taking advantage of that. Up in the hayloft, Theodore and his younger siblings were fooling around. The twins were wrestling in the loose hay, and Elise was busy trying to climb up one of the support beams. Theodore had draped himself across another beam, square over the middle of the loft. His eyes flicked cautiously towards the edge every so often- but he’d be ok. He’d fallen and tumbled into the hay enough to know it would catch him much gentler than the barn’s dirt floor. He had other things to focus on at the moment, anyway. A beat up journal sat in front of him, chock full of loose papers and ink-stained scraps. They stuck out the sides and from under the cover. With all the story ideas, memories, and thoughts crammed into it, it was a wonder the book was still together. He’d have to get a new one soon. But for now, his quill scratched away at the page before him. He’d been working hard on recording every detail he could about the other day’s encounter. He felt as if he’d seen something precious- something more astounding than any legend- and he refused to let it slip from his mind. Writing this down needed his undivided attention. Of course, his siblings thought otherwise. “Hey, Theo! Y’all gonna come down from there?” Nilo called, arm locked around Tyler’s neck. Tyler squirmed and pushed at him playfully. “I think Tyler could use yer help!” “Naw, I do not! Yer about ta need ‘em though!” Tyler snickered. With a sudden jerk, the boy threw himself against the hay, sending Nilo toppling over his shoulder. The two laughed and jeered as they scrambled around, but Theodore didn’t pay them much mind. “Mmh, yea, uh, jus a sec,” he mumbled, eyes scanning over his work. He felt like he’d gotten the stranger’s routine written out ok. But he just couldn’t capture the strange smoke they’d been messing with. Not smoke, his mind muttered, magic. The word sent a zing down to his fingertips. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. Last week, he would’ve firmly said bad. But now, he just… wasn’t sure. It honestly felt more like a thrill. As if he were staring down a wolf, but it was crouched and wagging like a playful dog. Oh, good simile, he thought, hastily scribbling it in the journal’s margins, I’ll have to use that somewhere later. He propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over the page. Almost full… would he have to cordon off a whole new section of his personal records for this? He wouldn’t mind, it was just… well, buying new ones could get expensive… A voice behind him knocked him out of his thoughts. “Hey, earth ta’ scribbles! Y’all alive?!” Theodore pulled a face- scribbles??? What???- glancing around for the offending speaker. Elise sat on a beam across from him, kicking her legs. Her smirk and little giggles confirmed it had been her. Theodore stared at her for a minute. “... what did y’all jus call me?” he asked. “Scribbles,” Elise snickered, “y’all like it?” “Aw- hell no,” Theodore snorted, shaking his head. He set his quill down, shifting to face her better. “Awful. Try again, lil lady.” “Well y’all weren’t answerin to theo!” she huffed. “Or theodore!” Tyler piped up from below him. Nilo nodded, picking bits of hay out of his hair. “Or anythin’ el- AUGH-” Whatever else he was going to say got lost as Tyler tackled him into the hay again. Theodore and Elise just exchanged a look. “If y’all’re gonna call me a nickname, call me somethin else,” he said. “Scribbles? C’mon, y’all can do better’n that.” “Hmm… m’kay,” Elise nodded slowly. “I think I got a couple ideas…” The corners of her mouth twitched mischievously. Theodore knew that look. Oh boy. How big of a mistake did I jus make? “How ‘booout… inky?” She said, blinking innocently as he tried not to smile. “Elise, tha’s even worse!” he replied. “Mmm alphabet soup?” she smirked. “Oh- revaew no-” Theodore guffawed, shaking his head. “Awful. Try again.” “Ah, I got it!” Elise clapped her hands together, grin as wide as a river. “Quillface!” Such was the name that broke Theodore’s composure. He lost it, clinging tightly to the beam below him to stop from falling off. Oh Revaew- yeah, he’d made a mistake alright. Nilo and Tyler quit tussling in confusion. Through teary eyes, Theodore could see them look to Elise for explanation. He couldn’t manage to get out more than a few wheezing “no, don’t-”s before her haughty grin passed its verdict. “Theodore’s new nickname is quillface,” she declared proudly. “QUILLFACE?!” Tyler shrieked, his shrilly voice dissolving into giggles. Nilo wasn’t too far behind, cracking a delighted smile. “I think it fits!” Nilo beamed. “It’s an attention grabber if I ever heard one!” “We- we oughta tell dean ‘n carrie-” Tyler wheezed. “Oh, of course! Everyone’s gotta know about Theo’s new name!” Elise grinned. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Theodore squawked, sputtering between bouts of laughter. He waved a hand to gather their attention, doing his best to breathe through his cackling. “Y’all are not gonna call me quillface, good revaew-” “Then what’dya want us to call you, huh?” Tyler teased. “Y’all gotta give us somethin to work with,” Nilo said. “I gave ya plenty’a options!” Elise chimed in, crossing her arms in mock offense. “Listen- y’all want a nickname? Fine, fine,” Theodore sighed. “Y’all can call me… uhh…” He glanced around for a moment. His eyes fell on his record book. He’d been needing a pseudonym for awhile now. And he… did like the idea of a writer-esque name mashed with “Drapht.” Something with a nice ring to it. Something like… He snapped, a bright grin rising to his face. “Journal!” he hummed, “y’all can call me journal.” “Journal?” Elise echoed, blinking. “... i mean, y’all were writin in that thing all mornin,” Nilo said. “And y’all’re what ya do, I guess,” Tyler shrugged. “Guess we should call you two punchy ‘n kicks then, eh? With all’a’y’all’s horseplay?” Theodore joked. The twins both clamored to protest, missing the obvious irony in the fact that they were still somewhat tangled up in the hay. And how they proved the point by dissolving back into tussling. Theodore settled back down on his beam, one foot dangling lazily. Yeah. That was about right. He reached for his quill, shifting to face his records once again. “Aw- c’mon, Theo! We wanna play!” Elise whined. He glanced over at her, a brow raised. “I’m here, ain’t I? I’m busy!” “Busy bein boring. What’re y’all writin in there thas’ so important anyway?” Elise huffed. Theodore opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. Wait. Could he tell them what happened the other day? Should he tell them? His parents hadn’t said no, but… well… “... Journal? Hellooooo?” Elise called, waving a hand. He blinked, shaking himself back to reality. “What was that? Y’all keepin secrets?” “Uh- not- not exactly-” he stammered, trying to cover his tracks. But his smile was lopsided, and his jerky movements too obvious. Elise’s eyes glimmered eagerly. “Ohoho… y’all’re keepin secrets,” she grinned. “Elise- no-” “Nilo!!! Tyler!!! Yer brother’s keepin secrets!!!” she cackled. The twins looked up immediately, perked up like coyotes in a chicken coop. Oh revaew. With the three of them staring him down, he really had no choice. “... well… uh… oh, fine,” Theodore sighed. “Jus keep it quiet, m’kay?” “O’course.” “Wouldn’t think otherwise!” “Y’all can count on it.” “Ok, good.” Theodore glanced towards the barn doors. No movement. No sound. Just the breeze and the sun beating down on the dirt. When he looked back to his siblings, they were busy nudging and giggling at each other, eager as ever for storytime. Alright. Yeah. This was ok. Shifting to sit upright, he clapped his hands together. They all sat to attention, eyes gleaming and gazes fixed on him. “... so… y’all remember the other day we were at town? An’ we had to leave early?” Theodore started. When he got a nod, he continued. “Well, somethin’ happened at the town outskirts ta’ make ma ‘n pa freak out so bad. And I was there. Y’see, there was a stranger who blew in, an’ they were doin somethin’ real interestin at the edge’a town...”

~~~

The sun had moved across the sky, almost right atop the barn, before movement reigned again. The twins burst out of the barn with fistfuls of hay, shouting as they tossed them at each other. Theodore was still up in the hayloft with Elise- she was having trouble getting down from the beam. Theodore tucked his journal into its little nook in the wall, setting the loose boards back into place. Elise was still chattering about his story as he turned towards a pile of bales. “-and mom jus yanked ya all the way back ta the cart?” she was asking, eyes wide. “Mhm,” Theodore nodded. He grunted as he tugged a bale of hay over. Scrambling on top of it, he reached up for his sister’s hands. “She was madder’n a trampled rattler. ‘M really not sure why, though. The stranger wasn’ hurtin nobody.” “Yeah, but… they were a magic user,” Elise said hesitantly. “Ma ‘n pa said they’re bad, right?” She shimmied her way down into Theodore’s arms. He let out a soft “oof” as she dropped, but he got her to hit the hay softly. “That… yeah, that’s what they say,” Theodore admitted. “... just… I dunno. I don’t think somethin so intricate ‘n beautiful could be that bad. Ma ‘n pa didn’ say people could do stuff like th’ stranger did with magic. They jus said it’ll make ya inta a lazy monster. I doubt someone lazy would be doin alla those flips.” “And yer sure ya didn’ see any claws or fangs?” Elise asked. He nodded without a thought. “I didn’ see nothin,” he assured her. “But- well, we don’ need to think too hard about it. They’re gone now. I jus thought it was neat.” “Fair ‘nuff,” Elise shrugged. She grabbed a fistful of hay on her way towards the ladder, humming happily to herself. Theodore followed after her, waiting at the top as she climbed down. She looked up at him once her feet hit the floor. “Y’all better hurry down ‘re yer gonna miss the fun this time!” she hollered, waving her handful of hay. Theodore laughed, carefully maneuvering himself over the ladder. “I will, I will! Jus gimme a minute!” he called back. “Scaredy cat!!!” Elise jeered. “Y’all wouldn’ say that if ya fell off the loft like I have!” he shot back. Taking a breath, he stuck one leg off the loft, feeling for the ladder. He didn’t move again until he had a good foothold. He slid himself down to get his hands around the sides, grabbing on tight as his other foot fumbled for the wooden slats. Only once his whole weight was held did he exhale. He sat there for a second just to make sure. Good. Ok. He was ok. Now he just had to scurry on down. All was going well until a sharp voice cut through the cheerful laughs outside. Theodore didn’t notice it at first. He was too busy lowering foot after foot, hand after hand, not wanting to take his eyes off the ladder. Almost down, almost down. He had this. Or, he thought he did. “THEODORE SHERMAN DRAPHT!” The name- his name- was bellowed loud enough to snatch his attention away from the ladder. His head whipped up, body tensing up enough to jerk his grip off of the wood. For one terrifying second, gravity seemed to drag his body away. Theodore’s hands shot out like lightning, snatching the wood so hard he knew he’d given himself splinters. But he didn’t care. He was too busy wondering what he’d done. He glanced skittishly toward the barn doors. A shadow darkened them, hands settled on hips, shoulders hiked up and tense. He knew that pose. Just like he knew the shout that followed it. “THEODORE, GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANT!” Ah. His mother. Theodore felt his stomach settling like a rock in the sea as he hurriedly finished his descent. Oh revaew. What happened now?

Theodore stood in his parents’ room, spine straight and hands clasped behind his back. His shoulders were squared, and he dared not reach his twitching fingers up to smooth his hair down. Even if the rather rough trip in here skewed it all over. And sorting it out would soothe him. He couldn’t move. His father’s disapproving gaze was more paralyzing than any snakebite. That, and he was just trying to last in the burning fury of his mother’s berating. “-came out to see Tyler and Nilo throwing hay at each other with some- some- dirty sorcerer’s words- trying to practice magic on my farm-” she was spitting, gaze searing as a brand. He squirmed a bit, doing his best to keep his eyes on her. It was hard. His gaze flitted across the room every time her voice raised. And when she was angry, she always spoke loud. He waited until she took a breath to pipe up. “I’m- I’m sorry, ma,” he tried, “I didn’ think it’d be a big deal-” “Of course you didn’t,” his mother snapped. “You don’t think about anything.” He winced at that, unable to keep his gaze from skittering to the floorboards. That’s- that wasn’t true. He did think. He’d dithered over telling his siblings for at least a day or two. Even now, he’d only told when they found him out. His fists clenched as his mother continued. “What have we told you about how dangerous magic is?! About how not to let it spread?!” “I- y’all said it’s bad fer us,” he mumbled, “bad fer everyone, a-an we should stay away.” “Exactly. An’ that shoulda been the end of it,” his mother snarled. “So why in the hell were y’all tellin yer siblings about what y’all saw in town?!” “I- it didn’- I jus- they- w-we were jus-” “What’ve we told you about thinking your sentences through before you speak?” his father sighed. Theodore clamped his mouth shut. Think, don’t just stammer, y’all oughta know better, he chided himself. He took a shaky breath, trying not to focus on how his mother’s foot tapped, and his father’s fingers drummed. Eventually, he forced his eyes to meet theirs again. “It… It didn’ look like magic t’me,” he explained slowly. “There was nothin threatenin. I didn’ even realize it was magic till the stranger said so.” “You… didn’t realize it was magic?” his mother echoed, disbelief dripping off her tongue. “N-no, ma’am,” he mumbled. He felt his cheeks grow hot as she scoffed. “Like- Like I said, I didn’ see anythin scary, ‘er any’a the stuff you’n pa said to look out for.” No darkness. No laziness. No monsters. No traps or snares or brambles. Nothing like what they’d been drilling into him since he could crawl. Just someone having fun flipping around and making towers of golden smoke. Which, yeah, that was magic. He believed it. But why in Revaew’s wide world did their description of “magic” not line up? Not one thing they’d told him to sniff out magic had helped him in town. It wasn’t even remotely scary. What right did they have to drag him from a danger that wasn’t even there? A thought popped hastily into his head. It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Have y’all even seen magic for yerselves, anyway?” Theodore’s hand ached to swipe up and cover his mouth. He wanted those words back. He wanted them back now. It was a good question- the right question- but with the way his parents’ faces flickered from incredulous to outraged... Shit. He needed to watch himself. “Have we- have we ever- ever seen-” his mother sputtered. “Theodore, that’s not your place to ask,” his father said harshly. “We’d know magic when we see it. It looks like what we’ve told you. End of story.” “But- but that’s not what I saw!” Theodore blurted. He cursed himself again, but he needed the words out. “I saw somethin’ that was pretty ‘n careful ‘n delicate, nothin like lazy destruction or evil monsters! Y’all- y’all saw what they did too, magic isn’t like that!” “It is like that, and it is what happened in town,” his father insisted, scowl deepening. “You were there, Debora. You saw it yourself.” “I did,” she nodded, “and it was jus as nasty as I thought. The sorcerer musta done somethin to our eyes so it seemed different, that’s all.” Theodore’s train of thought hit a snag in the tracks. Wait. Their eyes? What? Where did that factor in? They were just doin’ smoky tower magic, nothin happened to our eyes. They didn’ even do magic in our direction. He opened his mouth to protest, but his mother cut him off. “Revaew, look at em- that daggum filthy wizard has- has bewitched our son,” she spat. She swept her hand in his direction, earning a flinch and a step back. “He ain’t seein any sense! What’re we gonna do with ‘em?!” “... give him time, Debora,” his father said. “Spells don’t last forever.” He hadn’t moved, arms still crossed and gaze still harsh. But there was a menacing glimmer in his eye. The second he saw it mirrored in his mother, he felt as if the room became an icebox. A beat of silence passed. Theodore swallowed down more words that bubbled up, watching as his parents exchanged a look. He stood stock still and quiet. If you asked him later, he’d say he could swear he felt frost climbing up his legs. “... y’all’re not ta speak of magic again,” his mother finally said. “Not so long as y’all live in this house.” “Not to your siblings, your friends, yourself, anyone,” his father added. “Magic- all magic- is a curse. If we see y’all spreadin around that sorcerer’s hex again, yer gonna be worse than grounded,” his mother said curtly. “Understood?” Though his mind churned and bucked, crying mutiny and injustice, Theodore forced himself to nod. “Ya swear it?” his mother pressed. “I… I-I swear it,” Theodore choked out. As the words left him, the tension in his father’s shoulders eased, and his mother’s brow smoothed. Approval at last. He tried to ignore the frozen bile in the back of his throat. “We gotta talk to yer siblings still, but yer free ta go,” his mother said. “Remember what we talked about, Theodore,” his father warned. “I... I will, pa. Don’ worry,” Theodore mumbled. He couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

Nilo, Tyler, and Elise all stood against the wall in the hallway. Though their faces begged for reassurance, he couldn’t meet their eyes. He just let his feet carry him through the house, gaze glued to the floor. When he opened the door, it was glued to the grass. Then the dirt path. Then the floor of the barn. Though his body shook with barely acknowledged fear, he clambered up the ladder and back into the loft. It was only when he tucked himself into a dark, high corner that he finally let himself think. Questions swirled and lashed in his head, each more pointed than the last. Why couldn’t he tell people about what he saw? Why didn’t the magic look like they said? Why did they insist his eyes were wrong? Why had his mother called him bewitched when he tried to say they were wrong? Did they even know magic at all? Were they trying to hide things? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. He didn’t have answers, and the more he thought, the more frustrated he got. By the time he felt tears trickling down his cheeks, he knew he had to make some kind of decision. Even if the idea scared him. Taking a shaky breath, Theodore scrubbed the tears from his face. He unfolded himself from the corner he’d crammed himself in. Dropping lightly to the hay, he strode over to his hidden nook. The floorboards creaked under his hands as he reached for his journal. The beat up cover looked ready to fall apart. But it’d persevered this long. It still held so much precious knowledge. It could still hold more. Just like him. Theodore sat down in the middle of the loft, scribbling away once again. Though this time, an air of purpose surrounded him. A flame of determination lit his thoughts, illuminating the words on the page. If his parents weren’t gonna tell him the truth about magic, he’d find it out himself. ‘Anyone can use magic, kid,’ the stranger’s words echoed. ‘Even you. You just gotta dig for it.’ Dig is just what I’ll do, Theodore thought. I had a bad landin. Not so much on my feet. But I can learn. I will learn. And I’m gonna hit the ground running.

#afw #a familiar world #afw chapter #my story #arty writes #journal sherman drapht #woooooo #i keep having too much fun writing scenes slkdjfs #for the record i think it comes across well! #i jus... get excited LKSDJDFK #n e way #poor journ has a mixed bag of a time here :') #we do get the first mention of his nickname tho! so! progress :D #lsdkjfskl hope y'all enjoy-

[jerepars]

Throwing Copper Extended Chapter Notes

2 / 5 The Queen of Lower Chelsea

Hyperlinks appear in blue (underlined on mobile). The story is posted here. Direct link to this chapter is here.

“You should think about getting the hell out of Dodge,” James said boldly. “What was it you said that night, before Devon called you for dinner at the winery? You wanted to get big enough so no one could hurt you. Don’t you think you’re well past that now? Do you really need every last little light in New York City? You should go with George, to whatever island he found in the Caribbean.”

Well, let’s get right to it, I guess. This chapter is named after “The Queen of Lower Chelsea” by The Gaslight Anthem. One way or another I was going to find a way to get a reference to this because there’s mention of a queen, New Orleans, and New York in the lyrics. James’ dialogue here borrows from the line: American girls, they want the whole world, they want every last little light in New York City.

“How did we get here?” she wondered. “With you being the one trying to pull me back from the ledge and asking where my respectable convictions went?“

The opening lyrics to The Get Up Kids’ “Holiday” are questions: What became of everyone I used to know? Where did our respectable convictions go?

I am of the opinion that the album this song is from, Something to Write Home About, is perfect from beginning to end. Any time I can refer to it, I do. Sometimes I have a bunch of random dialogue in mind before I start writing a chapter and I knew right away Teresa was going to say this. I think it’s fitting. I’d like for Teresa to have self awareness and recognition of what she’s gotten away from, whether that be good or bad.

It didn’t seem like it’d been so long ago when she was voicing her distaste and disapproval for the way James lived, for the things he’d had to do, so deeply ingrained in a world of criminal activity that was new to her. Teresa remembered how hollow his voice had been when he’d said that’s the wrong answer after he’d asked her what they should do about Lopez’s guy who tried to short them on payment and she’d said, with worry, to let him go. It was only the second time she’d worked with James, and she’d been naïve then. She’d been naïve still, months later when she told James he was a good person and that’s not who you are about cartel operations that ended with casualties—though she believed she was right about those things. But as she moved up, and in her quest for expansion, she’d burned bridges and done wrong, setting aside her inconvenient convictions. Teresa always told herself it was for survival, for the good of everyone around her. But there was a seduction to vengeance, and sometimes it was without guilt that the flames licked at her face and she chose wrath.

To look back at 1x03, it can really be seen how both James and Teresa have changed over time working with each other. First of all, the way he says “that’s the wrong answer” (0:56) is...somehow really appealing. Lol. And then you look at their body language and facial expressions throughout this scene, so different from the way they are as the series progresses.

To me, it seems they go through a role reversal of sorts, over time, because James gets softer and Teresa goes scorched earth.

“When I was summoned to Bolivia by El Santo, Pote gave me that card with the psalm on it. It was important to him, symbolic, because if I had it on me, it meant I’d be protected, and I’d be back,” Teresa explained. “So give me something. Something that matters. I’ll give it back.”

James was glad Teresa had that fire in her, that determination to get through anything. He was glad, too, that she could acknowledge she might be about to walk into the belly of the beast. But the cynic that he was, James thought they had a narrow shot at playing the meeting right without everything blowing up in their faces, and he didn’t think symbolism was going to change the outcome.

“Superstition isn’t going to save your life, Teresa,” James said.

This section indirectly calls back to “Throwing Copper” by Touché Amoré, the song the story is named after. It’s the last bit of the song: But if superstitions can give someone faith, then I’m throwing my wallet and begging for change.

James’ constant observation of flickering light in Teresa’s eyes can’t be the only call back to the title, right?

One of the first things James ever said to her was I’m not religious, whoever they stole this car from is after Teresa made a snide comment about the rosary hanging from the rearview mirror, as he’d raced against time to the airport. She remembered everything about her early interactions with James. She remembered his longer hair that was a little too perfectly messy—tousled. She remembered he spoke to her coldly and never smiled, even though his eyes were warm. She remembered when he’d covered for her, something he’d decided to do of his own volition, more than once, and how it helped her understand who he really was. She remembered seeing the chain against the skin of his neck, the necklace usually tucked under his shirt. She hadn’t seen the pendant until the night when Eric’s men followed them to the cemetery to retrieve Camila’s reserve money, and Charger had to pull a bullet out of James’ shoulder after the car they were in was shot up.

One of my first ideas for this story was Teresa asking for something valuable, to be returned, to “protect” her and make sure she was going to get out of the meeting okay. So I went back to something from the first season, something that the show’s wardrobe department has probably long forgotten about or lost in a box.

James’ necklace is actually visible in the very first shot he’s in ever, in 1x02, around 6:30 of the episode. It’s not tucked into his shirt. But then, in later scenes, still in the warehouse, it...disappears. He’s still wearing it though, because you can see the chain a little bit (2:29) while he’s waiting to go through the metal detector at the airport.

It’s visible again in 1x07, when he’s all bloody and has to get the bullet removed from his shoulder (0:20), and in 1x11 when he’s talking to Camila on the phone in the trailer (0:29).

And then we never see it again! It’s just absent in every other season. I don’t know why this bothers me so much, but it does. I guess I consider the accessories that characters have to be part of the world building and continuity.

So I wrote it in, gave it a backstory, gave it purpose. Yes, this is really the kind of thing that goes through my mind. 

“Yes.” Teresa nodded. “Nothing comes cheap. Not even me.“

In this whole back and forth between Teresa and Devon, I like that it starts with him saying she doesn’t have a bargaining chip but she manages to turn it around on him. I imagine that canon Teresa would be able to do the same thing, too (after all, she makes the smart move to send Lil’ T to his mother in 3x05).

Anyway, this piece of dialogue is inspired by the bridge in “The Queen of Lower Chelsea”:

Well they say these days Nothing comes cheap And everything has a price Everyone has a price Nothing is free Not even me

In 2x01, Teresa says “everything in life has a price” when she and James are at Rolando’s memorial (a moment that’s also mentioned in the chapter) as she’d devastated about Brenda. Earlier in the chapter, regarding Oksana’s death, it’s mentioned that everything has a cost. So it’s all connected.

After a while, James closed the distance and touched her face. Teresa held her breath when he wiped under her eyes with the pad of his thumb. Then he held her jaw, his fingers at the back of her neck.

”You’re gonna be fine,” James said.

There’s this moment in 1x08, when James is talking to one of the hotel maids (0:56) for information. And she’s freaking out because the cartel is in her house. James wipes at her tears with his thumb. I find it to be a confusing moment because it’s like...is he doing it to calm her down? Is he doing it threateningly (the whole scene is pretty threatening anyway)? 

But me, I’m like, yo, when do we get to see him do that to Teresa?

She was apologizing not only for pressing on his wound but for everything, preemptively, for the tough spots she put him in and for what she’d done that he didn’t know about yet. She really did know how to do a number on him, she thought, inflicting pain like a flame that burned him to let him know they were both still alive.

The last line is a reference to Bayside’s “Duality”: you’re the flame that burns me so I know that I’m still alive.

#je repars notes