#i hate hate HATE nicotine after watching my parents smoke when i grew up

[sunfoxfic]

We were so close to smoking not being cool anymore. We were so close. Then they flavored it mango and now it's taboo to criticize it anymore. People don't ask if they're allowed to vape indoors, they aren't considerate of people who may have health problems that are triggered by the chemicals or if it just bothers them, people don't care that they're supporting an industry built on corruption and greed, they can't see it draining their pockets and much less their health. We were so close to smoking not being cool anymore.

#i hate hate HATE nicotine after watching my parents smoke when i grew up #its gross and bad for your money and bad for your health #and i get it. theres SO MANY socioeconomic factors that make it a complicated issue. #you CANT blame smokers. #but it feels like people are just accepting the institution for what it is bc now it tastes good #bitch just chew gum jfc #it doesn't matter if its an industry issue. we have seen in the past that making it “uncool” hurts the industry #make nicotine uncool again PLEASE #grumbles

[medicifm]

*  not  me  actually  writing  an  intro  the  night  before  like  i  always  mean  to  😳  hennyway  hey  biddies  ,  i'm  chloe  ,  im  in  the  snowy  part  of  pst  ,  &  i  use  she / her  pns  .  i’ve  been  . . . . . . .  scouring  the  tags  for  an  rp  like  this  so  im  so  excited  to  bring  this  newish  muse  of  mine  here  !   im  here to  do  the  honours  of  introducing  my  himbo - on - the outside , manipulative - shit - on - the - inside  . . .  oscar  🤡

(  twenty  three , cis  man , he / him  ) ✉ ― hey  babes , have  you  met  OSCAR  MEDICI ?  they’re  working  here  as  THE  HEAD  CHEF  AT  LORENZO’S ,  a  few  villas  down  from  where  you’re  staying  .  you  might  hear  them  singing  ALRIGHTY  APHRODITE  BY  PEACH  PIT  playing  from  their  villa  ,  it’s  their  favourite  song  .  yes  ,  they  hear  that  they  look  like  JACK  GILINSKY  a  lot  ,  actually  -  it’s  really  uncanny  .  their  friends  back  home  in  SYDNEY , AUSTRALIA  say  that  if  they  were  on  a  tv  show  ,  their  trope  would  be  THE  WOLF  IN  SHEEP’S  CLOTHING  ,  how  funny  is  that  ? ✎ chloe , 22 , she/her , pst

𝐢  .

pinterest  |  wanted  plots  |  

𝐢𝐢  .

name  :  oscar  gabriel  medici

age  :  twenty  three

dob  /  sign  :  december  4th  ,  1997  /  sagittarius  sun  ,  leo  moon  ,  libra  rising 

pob  :  sydney , australia

gender / pronouns  :  cis  man  &  he / him / his

career :  head  chef  at  lorenzo’s  ,  full - time  heathen  ,  professional  disappointment  for  mothers  everywhere  .

drinking / drugs / smoking :  yes / more  often  than  he’d  admit / never .  

religion  :  jewish  background  ,  currently  non - practicing .

physical  :  jack  gilinsky  fc ,  dark  brown / black  longish  curls  (  reference  )  ,  dark  brown  eyes  ,  canon  jack  g’s  tattoos  ,  no  piercings  ,  6′2″  ,  175  lbs  ,  lean  but  strong  .  tattoos  a  la  canon!jack  ,  pearly  white  smile  that  he  may  . . .  or  may  not  . . .   use  crest  3D  white  strips  weekly  to  maintain  .  lots  of  burns  &  scars  from  kitchen  mishaps  on  his  hands  &  arms  .

traits  :  hard - working  ,  flighty  ,  intelligent  ,  hedonistic  ,  charismatic  ,  intense  ,  volatile  ,  

other  :  speaks  weird  french  (  aussie  accent  tings  )  ,  tans  easily  but  wears  sunscreen  nonetheless  ,  works  hard  parties  harder  ,  can’t  read  a  lick  of  french  but  spends  a  lot  of  his  free  time  with  a  coffee  &  a  new  paperback  ,  has  a  bit  of  an  internal  vendetta  against  rich  people  (  for  no  real  reason  ,  he  just  doesn’t  like  most  of  them  )  ,  has  ins  with  a  bunch  the  local  farmers  &  visits  them  weekly  ,  pretends  he  isn’t  lowkey  addicted  to  nicotine  administered  via  a  puff  bar  ,  liquor  of  preference  is  tequila  or  red  wine  ,  drives  a  lil  vespa  around  town  for  the  gag  of  it  (  loves  seeing  it  haphazardly  parked  amongst  a  bunch  of  luxury  cars  )  ,  

character  inspo  :  jess  mariano  (  gilmore  girls  )  , gordon  ramsey  🤡 ,  patrick verona ( 10 things i hate about you ) , ferris bueller ( ferris bueller’s day off ) , han solo ( star wars ) .

𝐢𝐢𝐢  .

oscar’s  arrival  was  as  unwanted  to  his  parents  as  could  be  :  a  father  whose  tendencies  leaned  towards  alcoholism  &  abusing  whoever  was  in  arms  reach  ,  a  mother  whose  life  was  more  or  less  spent  at  the  nursing  home  she  worked  as  a  nurse  at  ,  evading  home  .  he  became  a  self - inflicted  loner  ,  preferring  to  do  literally  the  exact  opposite  of  what  was  expected  or  wanted  from  him  .  he  had  a  few  friends  he  ran  with  ,  but  watching  them  all  go  off  &  study  or  prepare  for  university  solidified  in  oscar’s  mind  that  the  non - traditional  route  was  for  him  .  growing  up  by  the  water  ,  oscar  always  felt  more  drawn  to  skip  school  &  head  to  the  beach  than  he  did  obeying  his  parents  wishes  .   

one  of  his  solaces  was  his  grandfather  ,  gabriel  ,  who  owned  an  italian  restaurant  in  a  beach  town  north  of  sydney  .  whenever  the  weather  was bad  &  oscar  felt  like  ditching  class  ,  he’d  head  over  to  his  nono’s  restaurant  where  his  ass  would  be  put  to  work  as  soon  as  he  set  eyes  on  the  restaurant  .  it  was  tough  work  ,  but  challenging  in  a  way  that  fanned  the  flames  in  oscar’s  heart  ,  rather  than  dimming  them  .  by  the  time  he was  a  teenager  he  was  working  in  the  restaurant  everyday  after  school  , an  agreement  between  him  &  his  grandfather  framed  on  the  back  wall  that  stated  that  as  long  as  oscar  kept  from  flunking  out  ,  he  was  allowed  to  spend  as  little  or  as  much  time  in  the  kitchen  as  he  pleased .  

his  absolute  defiance  of  anything  traditional  &  following  the  rules  made  him  unpopular  with  adults  ,  but  lowkey  cool  with  the  girls  .  by  the  time  he  was  sixteen  ,  he  was  losing  his  focus  on  the  restaurant  &  his  grades  &  spending  more  &  more  time  chasing  after  girls  .  his  nono  tried  to  get oscar  to  come  back  &  focus  ,  but  as  always  ,  anything  he’s  asked  to  do  quickly  becomes  the  thing  he’s  running  from  the  most  .

tw  :  death  ,  cancer  .  around  his  eighteenth  birthday  ,  his  grandfather  suddenly  fell  ill  with  a  rare  form  of  cancer  that  took  his  life  six  weeks  after  diagnosis  ,  which  rocked  oscar’s  world  .  he  felt  overwhelming  guilt  that  he  hadn’t  spent  more  time  with  his  grandfather  ,  which  manifested  itself  as  oscar  dropping  out  of  school  a  year  shy  of  graduation  to  commit  himself  fully  to  perfecting  his  grandfather’s  techniques  ,  learning  all  of  his  recipes  (  read  :  pouring  over  dozens  of  handwritten  cookbooks )  in  some  failed  attempt  to  get  back  some  time  with  him  .  oscar  hadn’t  been  close  with  his  parents  in  years  ,  more  or  less  seeing  them  as  wardens  of  a  prison  he  wanted  nothing  to  do  with  .  his  grandfather’s  will  left  him  the  deed  to  the  restaurant  ,  with  an  ask  that  oscar  would  promise  to  act  on  whatever  he  felt  called  towards  ,  rather  than  doing  what  others  expected  of  him  .  to  be  candid  ,  this  whole  situation  crushed  him  .

eventually  ,  he  decided  he’d  had  enough  of  the  stifling  community  he’d  grown  up  in  .  he  sold  the  restaurant  to  one  of  the  regulars  ,  a  wealthy  man  who  he’d  come  to  acknowledge  as  somewhat  of  an  uncle  ;  a  safe  pair  of  hands  who  would  treat  his grandfather’s  legacy  with  as  much  passion  &  respect  as  oscar  himself  would  .  so  he  packed  a  bag  ,  texted  his  mom  that  he  was  going  traveling  ,  &  got  on  a  flight  that  evening  .  he  traveled  all  around  -  first  through  central  america  ,  then  through  europe  ,  throughout  asia  &  africa  ,  &  spent  a  few  months  driving  a  van  across  the  continental  united  states  &  canada  for  fun  . 

eventually  ,  he  started  getting  low - ish  on  money  ,  &  decided  to  settle  in  one  of  his  favourite  places  he’d  visited  :  southern  france  .  he  arrived  in  early  2018  ,  taking  on  whatever  menial  tasks  he  could  while  learning  french  until  he  got  a  position  as  a  line  cook  in  an  italian  restaurant  .  a  few  years  later  ,  he’s  made  his  way  up  to  filling  the  head  chef  position  ,  an  honour  he  takes  with  pride  .  he’s  implemented  many  of  his  own  recipes  while  using  flavours  he’s  learned  from  his  travels  ,  with  ingredients  straight  from  local  farmers  .  he’s  earned  the  restaurant  a  two michelin  star  rating  ,  &  is  constantly  striving  for  more  to  get  that  last  star  (  both  for  his  own  ego  as  well  as  a  secret  debt  to  his  grandfather  )  .

𝐢𝐯  .

ok  but  that  vid  where  gordon  puts  two  pieces  of  bread  on  someone’s  head  &  calls  them  an  idiot  sandwich  ?  that’s  oscar  .  intense  as  fuck  in  the  kitchen  ,  &  best  nobody  catch  an  attitude  about  it  bc  he  will  not  hesitate  to  hand  them  their  ass  on  a  silver  platter  .

another  gordon  reference  :  you  know  how  he’s  the  spawn  of  satan with  adults  ,  but  the  sweetest  ,  most  helpul  guy  with  children  ?  that’s  oscar  with  his  staff  vs  people  he  wants  something  from  .  whether  its  to  sleep  with  them  (  usually  his  first  instinct  to  be  fair  )  ,  their  money  or  clout  ,  or  to  get  into  some  wild  adventure  some  random  resort  staff  wouldn’t  dream  of  getting  into  ,  he  can  turn  on  the  charm  whenever  needed  .

can  go  from  absolutely  demoralizing  someone  in  the  kitchen  to  stepping  out  into  the  lounge  to  schmooze  with  his  friends  or  cougars  who  leave  phat  tips  in  0.2  seconds  .  the  speed  at  which  his  mood  can  completely  180  is  one  of  the  seven  world  wonders  (  last  i  checked  )  .

his  love  language  is  absolutely  acts  of  service  .  catch  him  actually  falling  in  love  once  in  a  blue  moon  &  making  it  his  mission  to  cook  her  extravagant  meals  everyday  .  

the  wolf  in  sheep’s  clothing  label  epitomizes  his  nice  ,  helpful  ,  charismatic  exterior  ,  while  ulterior  motives  &  disdain  for  those  who  grew  up  with  more  money  than  he  did  lurk  beneath  the  surface  . 

he  can  be  MEAN  when  someone  fucks  him  over  or  pushes  him  farther  than  he  wants  -  isn’t  afraid  to  go  for  the  low  blows  or  send  someone  home  with  an  identity  crisis  if  it  protects  himself  .

lowkey  alcoholic  but  he’s  not  ready  for  that  conversation  yet  .  he  sees  it  more  as  perks  of  the  location  &  atmosphere  he’s  found  himself  in  .

also  lowkey  falls  in  love  HARD  ,  like  this  man  is  a  closeted  romantic  but  self - sabotages  all  potential  relationships  before  they  can  get  to  that  point  out  of  fear  he’ll  be  unable  to  live  life  of  his  own  volition  (  takes  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  to  know  a  flaky  philophobic  sagittarius  🤡  )  .  has  probably  only  had  a  few  real  relationships  besides  flings  bc  he’s  afraid  .

𝐯  .

check  out  my  wanted  plots  tag  listed  here  ,  as  well  as  my  pinterest  wanted  plots  board  here  .  here   are  some  other  suggestions  hehe  :

best  friend  /  ride  or  die  :  someone  who  knows  about  his  past  ,  keeps  him  grounded  when  he’s  lk  spiraling  &  wants  to  drop  everything  &  flee  to  some  far  flung  corner  of  the  earth  .

actual  relationship  :  it  was  fast - burn  with  deep  feelings  (  not  them  thinking  they’re  soulmates  after  dating  for  a  month  . . .  pete  &  ariana  type  beat  )  but  completely  unrealistic  .  they  have  their  own  life  ,  he’s  pretty  much  tied  to  the  restaurant  ,  not  to  mention  his  lack  of  sharing  anything  about  his  childhood / life  back  home  .  they  loved  &  cared  for  each  other  ,  but  crashed  &  burned  fairly  quickly  because  of  how  idealistic  it  was  .  they  can  either  be  on  bad  or  good  terms  now  .

hateship  with  sexual  tension  😈

summer  flings  !!

fake  boyfriend  :  he  shows  up  on  her  arm  to  her  family’s  events  where  she’s  expected  to  have  a  partner  .  it’s  not  a  real  relationship  ,  but  her  parents  don’t  need  to  know  that  .  he  plays  the  part  &  satisfies  her  parents  beyond  the  bare  minimum  ,  &  in  return  she  invites  him  to  parties  ,  takes  him  out  on  her  family’s  yacht  ,  etc  etc  .  we  luv  some  symbiosis  

i  can  always  use  more  fwbs  hehehe

squad  :  a  group  of  people  who  do  everything  together  ,  have  a  chaotic  group  chat  ,  have  nicknames  for  one  another  ,  are  utd  on  each  other’s  sex  lives  ,  party  all  night  then  show  up  to  brunch  hungover  together  .  

cat  &  mouse  :  someone  he’s  pursuing  who  isn’t  quite  giving  in  ,  &  vice  versa  .  maybe  it’s  been  going  on  a  few  years  ,  everytime  they’re  in  st  tropez  they  have  this  weird  lil  flirtationship  thing  goin  on  until  she  leaves  ,  they  forget  about  one  another  ,  then  pick  it  right  back  up  when  she  returns  .

confidant  :  preferably  someone  from  a  working  class  background  who  understands  his  plight  of  being  a  worker  amongst  people  who  expect  to  be  waited  on  .

enemies  :  they  don’t  like  his  attitude  ,  &  he  doesn’t  like  them  in  return  .  lots  of  eye  rolls  ,  shit  talking  ,  &  tension  between  their  mutual  friends  .

we’re  sleeping  together  but  we  shouldn’t  be  but  that’s  half  the  fun :  for  whatever  reason  they  became  friends  ,  starting  hooking  up  despite  it  not  being  a  good  idea  (  read  :  he’s  exes  with  one  of  her  friends  ,  her  parents  want  her  focused  on  career  ,  they’re  part  of  the  same  friend  group  ,  etc )  . . . but  now  they  can’t  stop  .  lots  of  stolen  glances  across  rooms  ,  squeezing  past  one  another  in  a  crowded  club  just  close  enough  for  a  quick  touch  to  the  back  ,  quietly  leaving  one  another’s  places  the  morning  after  &  playing  dumb  to  anyone  who  asks  . 

#villasintro #eeeek im hyped !!

[tessalouise]

Addiction in Disordered Eating

    My eating disorder was an addiction.

    My self-harming behaviors were an addiction.

    It was about the food, yes. It was about losing massive amounts of weight by whatever means necessary to achieve what I believed at that time to be a perfect body. It was about hurting a body I hated. It was about control.

    At the same time, it was all wildly addictive.

    I used nicotine for roughly three years and when I quit, I quit with hardly any thought of it afterward. I haven’t vaped, haven’t smoked a cigarette since making the decision. This is a whole different bear.

    Truthfully, in recovery, I am still extremely uncomfortable in my body. Just because I am quitting these self-harm practices doesn’t mean the urges disappear. Disordered eating is addictive. Starving is addictive. Cutting is addictive. Hitting yourself with ferocity until your skin numbs and turns blue is, apparently, addictive. These practices can trigger the release of endorphins, which temporarily relieve pain.

    For a long time, I justified self-harming as pain to ease pain. Self-harm does give you a second of relief. A white-hot, split-second. And then there’s the after.

    The after, crumpled up on the kitchen floor with head-shaped dents in the cabinets, legs you can hardly touch because you just spent an unknown amount of time thrashing and punching at them and your skin is swelling and turning purple and you ache. The after, tending to open cuts with hydrogen peroxide and pressure, desperately trying to get the bleeding under control and panicking because you may have gone a little too deep this time. The after, the morning after, waking in your bed to the devastation of what you did to yourself in the night. The after, after the period of restriction, after fainting, when you can hardly keep your eyes open and even you know you must choke something down, and you feel like you just spent xx days empty and starving for nothing. The after, with the brittle nails and the layered t-shirts and three pairs of leggings on, because it’s seventy degrees in your house, but it feels like thirty.

    The feeling the after brews in you is one of the shittiest feelings I’ve ever felt.

    Shame, to the billionth power.

    And still, like addicts crave the high, I crave hunger. I crave self-harm.

  Quitting the eating disorder is extraordinarily complicated, because unlike other addictions, it is impossible to totally remove yourself from food, and it is impossible to totally remove yourself from hunger. I cannot separate myself from it in the way alcoholics can avoid liquor. Hunger is our body’s way of asking for food, and I will naturally become hungry throughout the day – only now, I have the responsibility to satiate it. I can only take this soured relationship I have with food and with hunger and nurture it. I can only get up each day and advocate for myself. I can only work to understand and identify the motley of whys and hows of these behaviors and their manifestation. It is so important to examine why we do the things we do.

    I believe my eating disorder and tendency to self-harm stem from both my genetics and a deeper lack of control over my life. Eating disorders run maternally on my mother’s side and occurred in my father’s sister before her passing. I was predisposed to these behaviors, and a chaotic, incredibly confusing eggshell walk of an upbringing caused me to grasp at straws for whatever form of control I could find. I found anorexia in my preteens. I found self-harm earlier.

    Understanding the root of addiction is essential. In my new, rational recovery brain, I can see the big picture. I can see the family history; I can see my genetic makeup and the brain chemistry. I can see my female ancestors starving themselves thin to take up the least amount of space possible. I can see the curly five-year old, I can see her cupping tiny hands over her ears, on her pink bedroom carpet buzzing with reverb from the newly divorced, screaming parents in the other room. I can feel her nervous tummy and the sensory overload, and I understand why she didn’t even want to eat. I can see the seven-year old waiting in line at the food bank, at a parent’s hip, thankful to know where her next meal is coming from and developing starvation trauma all the same. I can see the seven-year old at home, transforming the one gallon of milk into two with the magic of tap water.

    Children should not have to learn to ration and stretch and hack their food. Children should not bear the enormous stress of finances and hunger. As a kid, I shouldn’t have known that expired doesn’t mean inedible, I shouldn’t have known the names of every volunteer at the food bank that quite literally sustained us, I shouldn’t have known how to stay warm in a home without heat, but I did. Life happens – parents are humans, too, and humans make mistakes, and with mistakes there are repercussions. Looking back, I am not angry, I am not bitter. The way I grew up expanded my capacity to Love. It has instilled in me the strongest desire to someday raise my own children and teach them gratitude in a household of abundance, a household in which food is simply available and accessible – food will not be an enemy, nor a luxury. In my own household, marital and financial stresses will be kept quiet, private, and entirely away from little ears. Childhood is confusing enough on its own and it is imperative for parents to preserve innocence.

    I can see where wounds were created.

    I can see why I chose destructive behaviors to distract from the deep hurt.

    I can see why I became addicted and dependent on those behaviors to numb out.

    So, here I am. I have this new, rational recovery brain, and though I am still uncomfortable in my body and in this new phase of my life, I am letting go of the idea that I need to be restricting or harming myself to be in control. I am safe and secure. Provided for. Those behaviors helped me a survive a tumultuous time, but they are no longer necessary, and they have always been destructive.

    This new person I am is someone I am unfamiliar with. Clear-headedness is something I am unfamiliar with. But I feel present. I am no longer watching my life happen without me. It feels good to be this person.

#recovery #eating disorder recovery #ed recovery #addiction #sh recovery #childhood

[nuka-nuke]

Love Letters

Ilya learns something new about Mike. 

@life-is-no-sugarlicking comes up with a lot of great headcanons for Ilya and Mike’s relationship, but this one inspired me to actually try to write it! So here ya go, my first ever fic. Starring her character Mike, which if you don’t know him, what are you doing with your life? 

The air hung heavily in the penthouse of Fizztop Grille. It was fairly early into the summer months, and already the humidity of Massachusetts was bringing on a familiar haze to the theme park. Mike drew his cigarette up to his lips and inhaled slowly, allowing the nicotine to fill his lungs, and eventually letting the plume of smoke add to the stagnant atmosphere with a deep sigh. He laid lazily upon the bed on the raised wooden platform in the corner of the room with half-lidded eyes staring upwards towards that weird painting of some kind of pre-war sunset that hung above the headboard, unable to find the motivation to finally get himself up off that ancient mattress.

It had been hours since he woke up in the unbearable heat to find the Boss had already left his side. In the past couple of weeks since he had been spending more time here than in the arcade he normally resided, he had learned that it was normal for her to rise before him since she had such issues with the weather, but a glance around indicated that she had headed out for the day. Most likely with that suck up piece-of-shit he added to the thought with a visible sneer. He despised when she’d leave with him alone. Gage may still be her right-hand man, but that did not change the fact that he had an unfortunate amount of familiar knowledge of their mutual boss. Even though she insisted those ties had been cut, and even though he knew it was childish, he still fumed at the thought anytime it arose in his mind.

Not that it matters or anything, he bitterly crushed the cigarette out right onto her nightstand, It’s not like she ‘n I’ve anything different.

But the interrupting sound of the elevator creaking its way up the side of the building made him perk up, and with a mechanical whirl he swung his prosthetic leg onto the floor to finally rise up off the bed.

“Hey there, Snowflake,” Mike grinned at the sight of his boss as the elevator reached its final stop.

Her normally carefully styled silver hair looked disheveled with loose strands of curls falling out of her ponytail and off into the air, and her automatic rifle, painted obnoxiously with the style of the Pack, was slung haphazardly over her shoulder along with a clutch of documents she held in her hands. Even her make-up was smeared across her right cheek with the struggle of a long day’s work.

Ilya wordlessly dropped her weapon to the side with a resounding clatter as soon as the elevator drew to a stop. Her footsteps over the threshold seemed drawn and exhausted, but in his vision, she was still like a corporeal work of art, coming to life to free him from this boring day. Like a magnet, her arms immediately draped themselves around him and he scooped her up from the ground into a grateful embrace.

She dusted the scarred cheek she was presented with with several kisses before simply resting her head onto his bare shoulder. “Baby… Am I ever glad to see you,” her voice was quiet and wistful, unusual for his normally confident Overboss.

Mike couldn’t help but smirk at the compliment, whether she meant it as one or not didn’t really matter, and swung her down to the antique sofa beside the entrance. He sat with a metallic creak of protest from his artificial limb and placed her onto his lap. She made no effort to change the direction in which he carried her and seemed quite content just to nestle into the chest of the man who greeted her.

“Yeah? Rough day out there, huh?” he answered, his voice hoarse with the cigarettes and whiskey he’d occupied his day so far with. He shifted her slightly until he could properly press a kiss to those lips that graced his mangled cheek.

Ilya rose to meet the affection and hummed with a pleased sigh. “Well, do you know what a Gatorclaw is?” she began, those icy blue eyes finally flicking up from under long lashes to meet his gaze.

Mike visibly flinched when she did, but tried to play it off with a casual maneuver to brush the bangs off her forehead. He’d never outright admit it to her, but those eyes of hers were seriously terrifying; like nothing he’d ever seen before in all the radioactive wastelands he’d traversed. While they could viciously strike fear into the souls of many of the men and women here in Nuka World, he had learned to find that healthy fear of her almost arousing during all this time they’d spent together.  She could still be pretty scary when she wanted to be, though.

“Ehh, can’t say I do,” again, he punctuated the sentence with a resolute kiss.

“Then you’re lucky,” Ilya grumbled, finally shifting out of his embrace to stand and toss the documents which remained in her grasp onto the coffee table beside them.

Mike glanced down towards the papers with a disinterested sigh. He had been more enthused by the Boss making herself comfortable on his lap and was disappointed that that was already over.  “What’s all this?” he said in a tone which obviously hinted that he actually didn’t care, and instead focused on watching her walk away.

“Hmm. Just… Some things from Gage,” she hesitated without looking back, and he could feel his stomach sink. Just the mention of that name killed the mood he’d been trying to create. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her flippant disregard of something that clearly would annoy him just annoyed him even more. “Well, what is it?” he tried to play it off like it really didn’t matter, but he could tell by the way she immediately looked over her shoulder with those piercing eyes that he didn’t fool her one bit.

“Why don’t you just fucking read it if it bothers you?” Ilya responded coolly.

For a brief second his expression faltered, as if she had slung a harsh insult at him instead of a simple suggestion. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Over the years in her life before all this, she had worked hard to make herself astute to the needs of others. She could tell what someone wanted, and especially what they wanted to hear, before even they knew. “She could sell ice to an eskimo” as her father always put it, and it was a skill she benefitted from greatly while in this new wasteland. And in this moment, she paused to choose her words carefully.

“Mike,” she slowly started, in a much softer tone, “ … do you not know how to read?”

“W-what?” He let out a short scoff and quickly stood up, waving a hand towards the papers nonchalantly. “Of course I can fuckin’ read, you think I’m an idiot? Man, you’re crazy,”

She stared at him silently. The feeling of her analyzing him was palpable and it made his face burn.

“I just, y’know, really don’t give a shit what kinda love letters you’re sharing behind my back with your ex-man, yeah? Like, he’s probably… probably just jealous that you’re with me now, fuckin’ obviously. Who wouldn’t be?” Mike shrugged with an over the top flourish and turned away from her. Her lips had curved into a hurt looking frown and he couldn’t stand to see it, especially with knowing he had caused it. He knew he was overreacting too much for her to actually believe him, but he couldn’t stop; for some reason just her finding out this one simple thing about him seemed to send him spiraling into a panic.

If she knew this, she knew some way she was better than him. She knew a weakness... And showing weakness only ever leads to getting himself hurt again.

“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” her tone remained the same, melodic and soothing, despite the fact that his seemed to unintentionally be rising in volume. “It’s just, not something I expected. That’s pretty uncommon, even in this world,” Ilya took a few tentative steps closer until she could see his face again, identifying from the way he stood avoiding her eyes that she was probably the first person to figure this out about him on their own and clearly he wasn’t equipped to deal with this kind of embarrassment.

“… So what now, you’re pitying me?” Mike cringed, just wishing he could have backtracked and reigned in his petty jealousy to avoid all this. “I don’t need your pity, Boss. You don’t…” he stopped himself, finally turning to look down with his mutilated vision onto the face of the woman standing so closely at his side. She was observing him thoughtfully with those translucent blue eyes, like maybe she actually genuinely had feelings, or at the very least some kind of compassion for him, but he told himself that he had learned better over the years than to fall for that. Everyone in this Wasteland was only looking after themselves, including himself, and she’d find some way she could use this against him. But his own thoughts sent a pang through his heart.

One of her ghostly hands extended to rest upon his back, the gentle contact against his skin sending an electric pulse through his whole body that knocked him out of the hypnotic effect of her gaze.  He whipped around to face her fully, shoving that tiny hand away in the process. “You can’t know what my life was like, okay, Ilya? You think I had time for shit like that? I mean, fuck—“ his voice wavered and he hated it, one hand furiously rubbing into his blind eye. “I worked since I could walk. I grew up on a shitty farm out here, and I worked, just like everyone else. We all did. Me, my parents, my sist—“

Mike groaned to interrupt himself, having said too much again. Every time he opened his mouth, it was like a tidal wave of words he really didn’t ever want to say, but couldn’t hold them back. She didn’t even need to say anything and he was pouring out his fucking guts to her, what the fuck was wrong with him?

These were things he never wanted to talk about, things no one knew about as far as he was aware. He hated seeming like a weak wastelander like all the rest out there and kept up his confident visage at all times, at all cost. But despite himself, here he was, for some reason laying out to her his actual emotions plain as day. He just felt an inherent need to make her understand; he couldn’t let her walk away and think less of him, and the strain of attachment he suddenly felt for the Overboss seemed to facilitate his desire to explain himself. How did she manage to have this kind of hold over him?

It’s not like me and her have anything deeper than she had with Gage, the thought again bitterly resurfaced, but at this point he even found himself reluctant to believe it.

He was deeply considering at the moment how effective it would be to just shoot himself in his good leg with her rifle there on the ground to get out of this conversation when he was drawn out of his mind by those tiny arms extending up to loop around his neck. Ilya was significantly shorter than him and needed to stand on the toes of her boots to reach, but still strong enough to yank him down to her height and reconnect their lips in a forceful kiss, silencing all his grumbling once and for all. He could feel his stomach twist into knots for reasons he really didn’t want to delve too far into and the panic seemed to come to an abrupt pause. Unsure of how to respond from here, he just stood there, dumbly bent in half into his lover with his arms hanging at his sides.  

After a few minutes, she leaned out of the kiss, but did not allow him any opportunity to storm off again; her right hand tangled itself into his messy blonde hair to redirect his head to rest face down into her chest. The motion was so gentle and careful that despite his instinctive reaction, he couldn’t even find the ability to force himself to remain on guard against her. His own arms slowly lifted, enveloping her small frame in a returning embrace with only a moderate amount of remaining caution. “You don’t need to be so worried,” Ilya began, and with his face buried in her breasts he couldn’t see but felt another small peck be placed against his temple. ”I care about you... And you can trust me,” she spoke softly, her voice now down so low he could barely hear it, as if this was a secret which only he was allowed to know.

This comfort was so unusual than anything he’d experienced before that it threw him off. She wasn’t judging him or mocking him. She didn’t even seem effected at all about any of the frantic rambling he just poured out onto her. Nothing that he expected to come did. Instead she just whispered kindly with that indiscernible accent she had, holding him tightly until he sighed the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been keeping.

In that moment, he even found himself actually believing her.

“Besides, of course Gage is jealous I’m with you now. I mean, why wouldn’t he be?” Mike let out a muffled laugh and finally she could feel the tension release from his shoulders.

Both arms abruptly squeezed her tighter and then he tilted his head away from her chest so he could glance back into her eyes. “Ah, what’s that? Sorry mate, I was distracted by these tits. Fantastic.” He grinned, relieved the conversation had successfully shifted tones when he heard her bright sarcastic laugh as a response.

She swiftly stepped backwards until they were reacquainted with her ragged old couch again, never letting her hold on him slack. She dragged him along with her the whole way back, causing him to trip over his own feet to remain attached to the much tinier person in the way she demanded from him. Finally they were face to face once more, one mechanical leg pressed into the sagging cushions beside her hips, where she could adequately reunite their lips once again. In the middle of the kiss, she practically purred her response, answering his joke with a very serious, “Oh, you can believe I will give you something to be distracted by.”

#ilya valle #mike williams #my oc #friend's oc #fallout fanfiction #nuketext #lots of nuketext #i am really nervous to actually post anything i write ever. buuuuut here we go then #only because dino said she loved it #oc x oc #flirty trashbags #my writing

[goddammitlance]

KLangst Week is here!!! I’m so excited. Today was Unrequited love/unrequited pining. I am a sucker for pining Keith, so here we are. @klangst-week

Rating: T+ for mild swearing

WC: 1,331

AU: Modern, wherein Keith pines over his best friend and is guilty for it

         It was windy. So windy that Keith wondered how Lance stood upright as he did.

    Well, okay, disclaimer. It’s pretty typical of Oklahoma to be windy, and as someone who grew up in the area, Lance was a bit experienced in high winds, Keith supposed. It was crazy, downright insane weather and winds so powerful that Keith wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it was enough to pull brick buildings up off of their foundations.

    In all honestly, Keith was a little afraid that that might just be the case, and Lance’s parent’s house would be blown clean away.

    When Lance roped Keith into watching his parent’s house with him, Keith thought that it would be a fun time; it would just be Keith and his best friend, hanging out in Lance’s childhood home. There were plenty of snacks, the bed Lance put him up in was pure heaven, and the flatscreen they used frequently was fantastic. It was going to be a good time. Hell, it was going to be great!

Well, that’s what Keith tried to trick himself into believing.

    In reality (because that’s what this was, not some fairy tail where Keith’s bad boy charm, or whatever, would finally cause Lance to fall for him) Keith was using this opportunity to get over Lance. There would be “bro bonding time,” where they would simply watch the house and play video games with each other. There was nothing to spur Keith’s crush on, no cute moments to cause Keith to fall further into the dark depths of one-sided pining.

    Mm, mm, mm, guess what. Keith had two problems. First off, Keith was pining, therefore very, very weak. He tried to find some way to find Lance un cute. Like, ugly-fy him or something. Apparently, due to Keith’s very extensive research, that was fucking impossible. Because Every Single Fucking Thing Lance did made a thousand butterflies burst out into Keith’s chest, wreaking havoc on Keith’s very normal heart beat.

    For the love of God, their second day at the house, Lance went to eat a chip and Keith nearly had a heart attack. A chip. No big deal right? Except that the chip was covered in nacho cheese - and whenever Lance made to put the accursed chip in his mouth, he got cheese on his upper lip.

    The surprised, wide blue eyes and the adorable sound Lance made haunted Keith’s gay-ass pining dreams.

    The next day was The Trial by Pond. Lance had taken Keith out in the ATV, the Mule, as Lance called it. He took Keith a couple of acres past the pastures, where there was a lovely little pond. There was shirtless swimming and endless internal screaming. So yes, Keith was weak. The weakest.

    The second problem was this: Lance was Keith’s best friend.

    There were so many problems with how Keith was feeling. There was a certain betrayal Keith was committing to every time he looked at Lance, watching the curves of his body, or the lines of his muscles. It felt so wrong, because he was betraying every ounce of trust Lance had him, because he wanted to kiss him. He wanted to do things with Lance that were so impure, the guilt that came along with those thoughts rested on his shoulders for days.

    It was at night that he had the biggest problems, because Lance had given Keith his own bedroom to sleep in. The sheets, the air, the pillowcases all smelled like Lance. It was comforting, but Keith hated himself for indulging himself in it as he did. He would flop onto his back and try to resist pushing his face back into the pillow, to inhale that bit of scent that he loved so.

    It made Keith sick as he thought of this side of things, so much so that he often lost his appetite.

    It was like taking a drag from a cigarette, he supposed. The first drag was startling and you don’t know how anyone could ever like that sort of thing. That is, until you took another breath. You get used to the smoke; you start to crave the nicotine. You get addicted. You don’t know how to function without your regular cigarette. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth and there’s this lingering thought in the back of your mind, the what ifs. The possibility of the long terms side effects is all too real. Your smile, once so white and pretty could turn sour, your teeth yellow. Something a bit more serious, like cancer could wait just around the corner.

But you crave your cigarette.

    Keith recognizes that he needs to quit, but he doesn’t know how. How do you unlove someone? How do you force yourself to unsee someone like that - like you’re pining after them with all of your being, just wanting them to love you in such a way you know they never will?

    He didn’t know.

    He wished that he could hurry and find out. Or that this goddamned Oklahoman wind would blow him away into the dark night.

    Keith swallowed thickly, trying to put away his musings in a little box in the corner of his mind and focus on what Lance was saying.

    “-I’m glad we pulled all of those plants in the garage, otherwise they’d be fucking toast,” Lance said. He swirled his bar spoon in his glass. It clinked against the sides and the glass. The noise was quiet against the howling wind.

    Keith nodded. He took a drink of his tea, looking out over the hills. “Yeah, but the cherry blossoms are all but toast.” He squinted against the wind coming behind the rims of his glasses. He looked over the horizon, to the bright oil rigs dotting the land in the distance, to the blinking red dots of light telling airplanes of the windmills reaching towards the sky.

    It funny, how Keith could barely see anything in the yard, or in the pastures beyond, but the distance was brightly lit, with all of the rigs around.

    “Ugh, you’re right,” Lance granted. “But I still hope we get at least something.” He hugged one arm around himself, trying to rub warmth into his arms.

    He had been at the whole crunching-in-on-himself-to-conserve-warmth thing for the past half an hour they’ve been out here on the porch. They watched the sunset, subjecting themselves to the chill for the beauty of the whole thing. Keith didn’t know why neither of them went inside after that, even though they were both obviously very cold, even in the June air.

    Keith sighed. “If you’re cold go inside,” he muttered into the rim of his mug. “You’re making me cold with your shivering and teeth chattering..”

    Lance snorted. “It’s the wind making you cold, trust me. It’s not my chattering. And I’m not cold.”

    Keith looked over, doubt in the way his eyebrows were lowered. Lance raised his hands in defeat.

    Alright, fine. I’m cold.” He shuffled in place. “And I think I will go inside. Maybe make some popcorn and get a movie going.” He made it across the patio. Keith kept his eyes solidly on the oil rig directly in his line of sight. Lance’s flip flops made a little sound on the concrete as he spun on his heel to face Keith. “Are you coming?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

    Keith bit at the inside of his cheek. “No,” he croaked. “I’m gonna stay out here for a while, look at stars and stuff.”

    Lance laughed. “If you get too cold, come in, Don’t freeze yourself being stupid.” That was the comment he left Keith with before he went inside, letting the back door slam behind him.

    Keith let out a breath, slumping and leaning against one of the four brick pillars on the patio. He wished the cold would cut into him and make him numb to the pain biting into him.

#klangstweek2017 #klangst week #klance #keith #lance #ollie writes things #ho boy i hope i can keep up with this #Voltron #I wrote half of this at my grandma's not even gonna lie #i love this and rlly hope i can finish the week #angst

[seoulmate-fics]

Promises - Rap Monster (BTS)

Prompt: Rap Monster, your childhood friend finally meets with you after many years. But after seeing you once again, feelings start to change and memories start to become something you’d never expect.

genre: angst

word count: 2957

“You’re addictive, just like nicotine.”

Seven years.

Seven years of watching the love of your life feel more and more distant from you with every step.

84 months of being by your side no matter what, even when everything turned into turmoil.

2,555 days of barely seeing them smile no matter what you did or how much you loved them, despite not having the same feelings back.

That’s how it felt for Kim Namjoon. The boy who grew up into the genius of a man that you know today. He loved you like no other, took care of you like no one else could.

When your grandmother passed away due to illness, it seemed like there was nobody else there next to you. Your parents were divorced at the time. Your mom? Always working. Your dad? Always gambling and drinking, always seen with other women. But you? You were an only child who relied on only yourself up until the day you met Namjoon. You had never opened up to anybody. On rare occasions you would vent about something small to him but nothing major. He knew about your living situation and the way that only your grandmother took care of you. But he never felt like he was in the right place whenever he saw you crying. He never felt up to that level. That is.. Until he finally saw you again.

You were now 21 years old. You were in your third year of college, trying to major in communications. Like every other typical student in university, you were stressed out of your mind. Sleepless nights, constant deprivation of coffee and vitamins; it seemed like nothing would fix your situation. You were already taking medication for the anxiety and depression you’ve been dealing with for the past couple of years. Midterm season was your biggest enemy. Of course, you still vent to Namjoon, despite taking different career paths. He too had to deal with sleepless nights. Constant bickering with the members of BTS when it came to practices and some fans interrogating him here and there.

After a few lonely years, you two were able to have a decent conversation on the phone that didn't involve distractions from the world around. You called him within the brief hour of midnight, right after you finished studying and after he finished working in the studio. He saw your familiar name and picked up after three impatient rings.

“Hello?” he tried to not sound too excited to finally hear your voice after so long.

“Hey Namjoon, I know it's been a while but I've been meaning to call you. I know I've been lagging on it but.. hey.”

At first, it felt awkward since you two were only about sending texts every now and then. But he missed the gentle sound and tone of your voice.

You could hear his soft chuckle under his breath, “what's up Y/N? How ya been?”

“Oh you know later, typical college kid stuff. How's being an idol?”

“It has its moments. Have you been doing okay?”

And you knew what he meant by that.

“I'm fine. Just dealing with it. But uh.. I wanted to call you to ask you about something.”

His heart pounded, “yeah what's up?”

“Well, my birthday is coming up soon so I planned on having a little party to celebrate. Plus it's the end of my midterms so that's another reason.”

Of course he would never forget your birthday. He was more than ecstatic to be able to see you again.

“Sure, when and where?”

“It'll be at my place. Next Saturday at around 8? No one is going to be there that early but you know.”

You didn't expect him to give you a sure answer. He probably had a show or a performance or anything important to his career that he had to deal with.

“But if you're too tired it's alright.”

“I'll try to make it. I miss you I haven't seen you in forever.”

You smiled, “I miss you too! I can't wait to see the day where we can meet again.”

“Same with you.”

You heard his manager through the call, “Namjoon, we have to be in Gwangju for a rehearsal tomorrow morning. Get some rest.

He sighed, “Well that's my cue. I'm sure we both need to sleep. It was nice talking to you Y/N. Your voice is still as dorky as before.”

You tensed up, “hey! You're one to talk! I've seen your videos! You're the dork here!”

He smiled, “Sure sure. I'll talk to you later. Goodnight and sweet dreams Y/N.”

You smiled on your end, “goodnight Namjoon! Sweet dreams!”

Neither of you wanted to hang up the phone but you were both exhausted. You fell asleep with your phone by your side and your heart feeling a little at peace even with all the cracks in it.

Next Saturday 11:46 PM

You were having the time of your life. You were finally 22 and the end of midterms had come. Your vacation was arriving soon and you were ready to relax. But as of the moment, you definitely not relaxed. Shots of vodka were poured down your throat as your friends cheered you on from all around you. With the music blasting loud and everyone enjoying their time, you couldn't feel any sort of disappointment. Until, there was this fellow who suddenly came up to you. He was also quite intoxicated and wanted to get a little more out of this party then just to drink. You weren't really friends with him, he was just a friend of your roommate but you didn't know him too well. He threw his arm around you and pulled you in close.

“Wow Y/N I didn't know you were such a lightweight!.”

You were always busy with either work or school, it's not like you even had time to drink.

“Oh hey Hyun~ how are you feeling about the party? Having fun?” you slurred.

He chuckled, “it seems like you sure are.”

“Well yeah! It's my party why wouldn't I?”

He gave you these seductive eyes, biting his lip at how attractive you looked.

“You know Y/N.. I've always thought were a pretty cute. Especially right now..”

He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, “you know, I can give you a special birthday present if you want it.”

You didn't know what to say and just brushed him off with a giggle.

Then you heard someone call your name from behind the counter.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

Your face lit up from half hooded eyes and a dumb smile to an expression of excitement and nostalgia as you saw your long time friend Namjoon after so many years.

“KIM NAMJOON IS THAT YOU?”

Rap monster wasn't too popular in Korea since they were a hip hop based group but he caught the eyes of a few guests. You ran over to him, stumbled and nearly tripped, then gave him a big, tight hug. The warmth of his body was desperately needed after such a long wait to finally meet each other.

You pulled back with your hands on his shoulders, “I can't believe it's you! You made it! You're actually here!”

He couldn't help it but smile, “yeah luckily the show ended early so I was able to make it to your birthday.”

“You've had a long day! How about a shot? You HAVE to take one with me!”

Namjoon wasn't much of a drinker but there's almost nothing he wouldn't do for you.

“Okay just one. I can only stay for a little more than an hour.”

“Yay ~” you cheered happily as you poured him a drink of his choice.

He didn't take it too well. The burn of the alcohol was just one of the reasons why he doesn't drink.

“Come on Namjoon! Let's go dance!”

You pulled him away from the alcohol, getting a death glare from the boy who tried to take you away.

His body and yours were pressed against each other; as you waved your lower body against his, you could feel the heat emerge from his hands to your waist. Yes, we all knew that Rap Monster wasn't a dancer but you didn't mind it at all. You loved every little moment with him, even the crazy ones like these.

“Hey let me show you something!”

You dragged him to your room, shutting and locking the door behind you. He felt nervous, never had he been in your room alone before, you two were always out and about. You made your way to the window and opened it with a bit of a struggle but luckily it cracked open. You exhaled loudly, “wow! I can't believe we just did that! I've missed you soooo much ~”

He agreed with a laugh, “yeah, that's one way to greet each other.”

He watched as the wind blew your hair out of your face, the soft caress of the breeze against your skin made his heart stop. Even now, he still saw you as the same girl who stole his heart years ago.

And yet, just as he was about to sit next to you, he saw you pull a cigarette and lighter from underneath a pillow. A shaky breath of air left his lungs while you inhaled tobacco into yours.

“Y/N.. what are you doing?” He asked with his voice full of worry.

“Oh..” You chuckled half-heartedly, “it's a cigarette.. you want a hit?”

He walked over to you with distraught in his steps. “Y/N.. why are you smoking?”

You scoffed, “well... I've been smoking for a few months now.. ever since the stress started piling up more and more I just needed something to keep me sane for once.”

He could tell in your tone that you were sobering up from the nicotine.

“You know.. you can always tell me whatever you need to let out.. anything.”

You knew that smoking was never a good option to try to relieve all the pains that you've been keeping in. And you hated to have your best friend see this side of you.

“I'm sorry Namjoon, maybe you should've have come. That way you wouldn't have to deal with me right now.”

His heart sank into his chest, “Y/N.. please don't say that. I've missed you so much and I don't care how you are, I'll always want to see you.”

There was a silence in the room. You took another hit.

“Oh yeah? The girl you had to take care of so much is now wasted and smoking cigarettes. She can't afford to pay rent and gas but she can still spend a $5 on a measly pack of cigarettes. She's failing two of her six classes and she's about to get fired from her job. Definitely worth seeing.”

Namjoon sighed deeply.

“Namjoon, I understand if you don't want to stay. I know you need to leave and go be an idol. You don't have time to take care of someone like me.”

Hearing all of those words come out of your mouth made him restless. He was happy that you were venting to him like you used to but he was so scared to see how you'd react. But he didn't even know why seeing you in pain was something he feared.

“Look Y/N-”

“No Namjoon. Look I'm sorry for making you come all this way just to see me like this even though I should be happy..” You let out a trembling sigh as tears started to form. Your voice began to break, “this.. it's my birthday and yet I still feel as broken as ever. I still feel like the same little girl who always cried whenever she came home because her grandmother was no longer there to make her smile. Her parents were no longer together. And she was suddenly losing everyone she held close.”

“You still have me Y/N.”

“Okay and then what? You're going to forget me just like everyone else. You're going to leave and be a big idol. We'll talk less and less and soon I'll just be another fan while you become more and more successful with every breath you take.”

“Y/N I'm not going to forget you-”

“And how can you promise that Namjoon?!”

His eyes grew big in fear. You have never raised your voice at him like this. Your tears were falling harder and harder.

“It's because.. “ He sighed hesitantly.

“Because what? Because you don't think I'll remember any of the promises we made?”

His heart struck with pain and heartbreak every time you grew more upset.

He looked away from you and you felt ashamed of yourself.

“I know.. that you probably won't remember this because you're either too intoxicated or maybe you don't even want to hear it but..”

You felt your skin crawling with anxiety as you were suddenly overthinking the situation, scared of what he was going to say.

He looked up and gazed into your eyes, “Y/N.. I have always been in love with you ever since you first smiled at me. I've been wanting to keep that smile on your face ever since then. That's why I was too scared to ask what was wrong. I was too scared to throwing away our friendship if I said one wrong thing. But now that I see you like this.. I've never been so scared to lose you in my entire life.”

You felt and ache in your chest, a deepening in the cracks of your heart.

“You are the most amazing person in the world. Even through all of the pain and suffering I still see you try your hardest. You're brave Y/N. You're not weak. You've never been weak. I told you a long time ago that I would protect you no matter what happens.. and I'm definitely not stopping now.”

You couldn't believe the words that came from his heart and mind. He was always there for you but you never realize how much of him was there. You hated so much of yourself and yet he loved every scar, every mistake that you had because he knew that there's never going to be another person like you.

You put out the cigarette and felt your body weaken and shake. Namjoon couldn't bear to see you in this state and pulled you close to him, allowing you to rest on his chest. His shirt began to get wet from your tears but he didn't mind it at all. In fact, he loved it, because you were now opening up to him. Once again, the heat migrated from his body to yours. You wanted to keep him close.

You started brushing your lips against the skin of his collarbones and made your way up to his neck.

“Y/N what are you doing?”

“I've really missed you Namjoon. I've missed everything about you. Your voice, your skin, your touch.”

A twisted knot formed in his chest as he felt both lust and shame.

“No we can't do this. You're drunk.”

“It'll be fine I promise~” you moaned into his ear.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back his moan as you gently bit the skin on his neck.

“What's wrong Joonie? Cat got your tongue?” You teased.

He wanted to touch you, to kiss you but he knew that it wasn't the right to do. If you two were to ever make love, this wasn't the right way to start it. He held you back and saw the tears still running down your face. His eyes widened as his thumbs softly caressed your face, wiping the tears away.

“Y/N.. I want to have our first time in a better situation. I don't want you to cry, I don't want you to be intoxicated by anything. I just want you to be you. But right now you're someone else. And I know you don't want this right now.”

You couldn't deny that he was right.

“Here, “ he lifted you onto the bed and laid you down, “a lot of people have already left the party and you need to get a lot of rest.”

He grabbed some water and handed it to you, “trust me you're going to need it.”

You smiled at this side of him that you've missed so much.

“I'm going to go clean up okay? I'll be back in a bit.”

“Namjoon wait-” You pulled on his shirt.

He looked back at you with concern.

“Please.. please don't leave me.”

He smiled and sat down next to you. He brushed the hairs out of your face and wiped away another tear from your eyes.

“I promise.. that I'll always be there for you no matter what. You're my best friend and I love every little thing about you.”

Your lips formed a soft smile as Namjoon caressed your hair.

“Why didn’t I ever notice this side of you?”

“Well..” he smiled, “hopefully you’ll notice it when you’re sober. Now just relax. I’ll come back.”

“Are you sure?”

He gazed into your eyes; slowly he leaned over and you felt a heavy beating from your heart. His lips were so close to yours, you just wanted to kiss him so bad. But he left a sweet peck on your forehead. He interlocked his pinky with yours, “I promise.”

You felt this sudden change in the atmosphere. Everything felt so sane, so calm. Your mind felt so at peace with itself. And at that moment you had realized,

“Never have I felt so safe in my life until you came along.”

#rap monster scenario #bts scenario #kpop scenario #bts rap monster scenario #kim namjoon scenario #bts kim namjoon scenario

[infinityhype]

Staying Gold (3/6)

Bee I finally got around to writing this next installment I didn’t forget it just...took forever to come up with something, oops. 

Part of the “Five Times” meme requested by @dezemberzwolf of “Daniel Law being happy and smiling” 

May I Buy You a Drink?

Daniel Law did not usually go drinking alone because it was, for lack of a better term, reckless.

However, his day had been so awful he decided the benefits outweighed the risks. Someone mugging him in a back alley would only make his day slightly worse at this point.

Hell, it would probably make it better to be perfectly honest. At least he would have a good reason to beat the shit out of someone.

Daniel tried not to drink when he’d had a bad day. It wasn’t a good coping mechanism, but he could only smoke so many packs a day before Kemper started leaving nicotine gum and pamphlets with titles like “Quit Smoking in a Month!” all over his desk.

He was on his first drink when a man sat down next to him (on his right, where he could see the guy), offered Daniel a pleasant smile, and ordered a drink for himself. Interest and caution prickled at the back of Daniel’s mind.

Daniel finished off his drink and asked for another. The man next to him handed the bartender a credit card and asked for a tab.

“And pick his up too,” he said, motioning to Daniel.

So he is interested, Daniel thought as he raised his second glass to the man and drained the contents. He turned so he was facing the guy and leaned on the bar. A little flirting might perk up Daniel’s ego, or ruin his night completely.

Either way, it couldn’t make the day he’d had any worse.

Well, much worse.

“If you’re gonna pick up my tab I should at least know your name,” Daniel said.

“It’s Evgeny Abrakov,” the man replied.

Evgeny  wore a gray suit with a blue vest and a yellow tie. He was roughly the same size as Daniel, give or take a couple of inches and pounds, with black hair and brown eyes. Defined cheekbones, perfectly coiffed hair, a nice voice...

Worse people had bought him drinks.

“Daniel Law. Nice to meet you.” They shook hands and nursed their drinks in silence for a while. Daniel lit up a cigarette and thought about how to proceed. He’d been so busy with work the past few months it hadn’t left him much free time, and his skills in the art of romance were passable at best.

“So what do you do, Evgeny?”

“I’m an accountant for a firm in Manhattan. I specialize in helping small businesses. I don’t do corporate tax law, because fuck--” He seemed alarmed the word slipped out of his mouth.

“You can finish your sentence,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I’m not offended.”

“--corporate loopholes, they’re terrible.” Evgeny picked up his drink in an attempt to look cool. “What do you do, Daniel?”

“I’m a detective. Organized crime, so you don’t get your hopes up for gristly Homicide stories.”

“Detective Law, then,” Evgeny said.

“Just Daniel,” he replied. “You are buying me drinks after all.”

“Well then, Daniel. I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not a homicide detective. To be honest I’m not interested in the gory details of humanity’s dark side. I can’t even watch the evening news most of the time. I want to be informed, but it’s just depressing.” Evgeny placed his right elbow on the bar and leaned on it, mirroring Daniel.

Daniel exhaled a cloud of smoke. He noticed a series of small cuts on Evgeny’s knuckles and wondered what he could have done to get those.

“The job’s absolute shit sometimes. Most of the time. But I keep going because there’s a lot of good people worth protecting out there. I dunno. I just hate to see people get hurt. I was the kid who always fought the playground bullies even if it meant getting my ass kicked. It probably helps my brother was kind of a wimp.”

Evgeny laughed. That was a sound Daniel could get used to. “Is it just you and your brother?”

“Oh no. I have—” Daniel did a quick count on his fingers. “Six siblings. One older sister, a twin brother, one younger brother, and three younger sisters.”

Evgeny’s eyebrows shot up. It was a common enough reaction Daniel didn’t even notice it most of the time. “That’s a lot of siblings!”

“Yeah. Everyone told me New York was loud and crowded. But with the house I grew up in, it doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m just glad to have my own apartment where I don’t have to fight anyone to shower in the morning. You got any siblings?”

Evgeny shook his head. “Nah. My parents adopted me and decided one was enough. I guess I was a bit of a handful when I was a kid. What’s it like, being a twin? I’m sorry, I’m sure you get asked that a lot.”

Daniel shrugged. He was starting to feel the effects of the whiskey. “It’s fine. My brother’s name is Marcus. He’s the better looking of the two of us. Nicer too. I’m the funny one. And older. That’s pretty much all I have going for me in terms of comparison.”  

“I can’t compare you two because he’s not here, but statistically a lot of people think less of their abilities when compared to others, especially a sibling close to them in age, so I’m sure you balance each other out instead of him being better than you—” Evgeny came to a hard stop in the conversation and blinked. “Sorry, once I get on something I talk a lot, especially if I’ve been drinking, and definitely when I’m trying to impress someone I think is cute.”

“You gesture a lot too,” Daniel said, making a motion with his hands. Evgeny folded them and put them in his lap. “I don’t say that to make you stop, it’s just you’re very…animated. And I like it. I like you.”

The words slipped out before Daniel could catch them. Was that all it took to disarm him? A couple of drinks and some conversation?

At this point, did he really care?

“Thanks,” Evgeny said with a smile. “I like you too.”

—

They closed the bar down that night, and Daniel didn't drink as much as he thought he would. If anything, he was pleasantly buzzed, his shitty day at work stored in the back of his mind. The cool, crisp air nipped at him, and he shoved his hands in the pocket of his coat.

“Where do you live? I’ll walk you home,” he said. He moved in front of Evgeny, so they were facing each other, and stopped.

Evgeny laughed, and Daniel tried not to think too much about the flash of white teeth and the flush on Evgeny’s cheeks.

“I live in Brighton Beach. I just come here because I like the atmosphere and no one I know from work hangs around here. Subway station’s a few blocks away. I can make it home.”

“Well I...I live about a block away. You can stay the night, if you want. I’d feel a lot better if you did.”

Evgeny threw his hands up. “Oh I couldn’t impose on you like that. I already talked your ear off for hours at the bar--”

“It’s not an imposition. It’s two in the morning, and it’s not safe for you to go back alone. So just.” Daniel grabbed Evgeny’s hand and began to lead him down the street.

“Oh I...okay.” Evgeny said. He caught up and laced his fingers between Daniel’s.  

“Just make sure I don’t run into a pole or something, okay? I can’t see out of my left eye anymore.”

---

Evgeny didn’t quite expect Daniel’s apartment to look the way it did. The place was a bit unkempt, with the desk and couch half buried in paperwork, but was otherwise spotless. Pictures were hung on the wall perfectly straight. A shadow box of Army medals caught his eye. He failed to mention he’s a war hero, Evgeny thought.  

“I’d offer you the bed but I haven’t washed my sheets in a while. I hope the couch works.”

Evgeny pulled himself away from his thoughts and nodded. “I can sleep wherever. It’s not a big deal.”

“All right.” Daniel disappeared into his room and came back with a stack of items. A pillow, a blanket, a well worn NYPD shirt, and a pair of sleep pants.

“Wouldn’t want your suit to get all rumpled.”

“Thanks.” Evgeny started the long process of getting undressed, and set everything on the back of a kitchen chair. Daniel started to walk away when he caught a glimpse of Evgeny’s back.

“Something the matter?” Evgeny asked.

“What? No, sorry. I shouldn’t stare.” Daniel berated himself, and at the same time thought what kind of accountant has a physique like that?

“I’m a boxer,” Evgeny said, almost as if he could read Daniel’s expression. “I won the championship my junior year. I still keep up with it because I like it.”

“It must get you a lot of ladies,” Daniel said.

God, this had been a bad idea. He started stacking files and putting them behind the couch, trying not to think about how long it had been since he’d had an extended conversation with someone other than his subordinates or the upper brass, much less—

“Plenty of guys who appreciate it too,” Evgeny said as he pulled the NYPD shirt on. He slipped out of his loafers and Daniel made sure to turn away while he changed pants.

Focusing on the task at hand, Daniel thought, and soon the couch was cleaned off and ready to go.

When he turned, Evgeny was a few feet away from him. Head tilted to the left, dressed in Daniel’s borrowed clothes.

“I uh…I don’t…want to do anything if you don’t want to, and I might be misreading the situation but would it…” Evgeny faltered. Daniel leaned in and kissed him.

“I went to all that effort of loaning you clothes, and you went to all that effort of putting them on, but I would really like it if you took them off and got in bed with me,” Daniel said.

“I’d be happy to oblige,” Evgeny replied.

——

Daniel reached over Evgeny’s sleeping form and grabbed his crumpled pack of cigarettes. The lighter took a little more effort because it was just out of Daniel’s grasp and he didn’t want to wake up his bedmate, but he eventually managed to catch it with his fingertips and pull it into his hand.

He lit up and leaned back against the headboard, breathing out smoke. He could see sunlight begin to stream through the window on the opposite wall. The smoke danced in eddies and whirls, like ink in water.

I should get up and make breakfast, Daniel thought before he remembered he hadn’t gone to the grocery store in a couple of weeks. The contents of the fridge were condiments, some leftovers from three days ago, and dubious milk. The pantry wasn’t much better.

He could make coffee. Coffee was breakfast for him on those days when everything went to shit and he had to get down to the precinct before his boss threatened to put him back on Patrol for twenty minutes.

“Hey Ev.”

“Mmmhmm?” The covers shifted and revealed Evgeny in all of his bed headed glory.

“I don’t have anything to eat around here so we’re gonna have to go out. That okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” he said, rolling up in the covers.

“Ev, you’ll have to get out of the bed first. And give me back my blankets, you have literally all of them right now except the flat sheet.”

“But your bed is so comfy,” Evgeny replied. “And my nickname is Zhenya. I’m not French.”  

“Oh yes, you’re Rrrrussian,” Daniel said with an accent. Evgeny wrinkled his nose.

“Please tell me you’re not serious. That’s the worst impression I’ve ever heard.”

“If you have a problem with it, come over here and stop me,” Daniel said.

Evgeny frowned, tossed the blankets aside, and pinned Daniel’s wrists to the bed. Daniel grinned. He did not mind this view one bit.

“Is this where I read you your Miranda Rights?”

“You don’t read people their rights when you arrest them,” Daniel replied. “Just when you’re about to question them. While Law and Order makes for compelling television it’s not accurate at all.”

“All right then. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…something about an attorney…okay, what the hell was that accent?”

Daniel laughed.

Evgeny Abrakov was officially number one in the “Daniel Law’s Best Tipsy Decisions” category, right above…well, every other person he’d ever gone home with or brought home with him.  

“Should we get up and around?” Daniel asked.

“…I could stay in bed for a few more minutes, if you’re up for it,” Evgeny replied.

Daniel didn’t object in the least.

—

When they left Daniel’s apartment, it was close to noon. They found their way to a diner that served breakfast all day and had a booth in the back corner open.

When they got their drinks (black coffee for Daniel, tea for Evgeny) Evgeny slid into the booth beside Daniel.

“Not that I mind, but are we already at that weird “couple who sits on the same side of the table” portion of our relationship?”

Evgeny shrugged. “ I just figured three eyes were better than one when it comes to watching the exits.”

Daniel nearly choked on his coffee.

—

#mads writes #daniel law #whoops I did it again #pairing an OC with a canon character #dezemberzwolf

[artificialqueens]

: Sinning Never Felt So Good : Chapter One : katyasbingowings

AN: a religious Matt and defiantly not religious Jason, mainly Pearlet with some cute lil Biadore and Trixya moments, hope you enjoy! :)

Matt would marry Jesus, if he had not been a male of course, or dead. Basically, Matt was your classic bible-loving, goody-two-shoes - one of the few students who attended St.Annes voluntarily, instead of being sent here to solve his delinquency. When he waved off his loving mother, Eve, and priest of a father, Adam (don’t ask), he giddily scanned his surroundings. Now, what Matt was expecting was equally thrilled peers, all ecstatic to be in such a religious and wonderful environment, cross necklaces, knee length skirts, the whole sha-bang. What Matt wasn’t expecting was an aura of pure misery, disgruntled goodbyes from both conflicted parents and children alike, at least four fellow students breathing out tar and nicotine, and defiantly not a brooding, long-haired figure examining him from afar - he could practically sense the dark-eyed gaze pierce his skin.

The skittish boy quickly focused his attention on the pebbled ground beneath him, now extremely self-aware of his actions and embarrassed that he was being watched - he could already tell that the boy was trouble (to be honest, Matt didn’t trust anyone who wore ripped jeans in the cold, it was simply illogical) and didn’t want their eye contact to be an invitation for interaction. When he glanced back up, the boy was gone, and Matt sighed in relief.

“Good arvo everyone! I’m Sister Courtney, follow me you bunch of you scamps and we’ll get you sorted out in no time!” Matt couldn’t help but giggle at the Australian slang that left everybody momentarily baffled, hearing some try to imitate - and completely butcher - the strong accent, before everyone eventually filled into the impressively large main hall. He was handed his timetable, a list of rules, and a key to his dorm. ‘BLOCK C - ROOM 4’: his new home.

Accompanied by a smile that hadn’t left Matt’s face since he arrived, the brunette practically skipped along to his new quarters, unlocking the door and bursting through with an overwhelming amount of enthusiasm. The first thing he noticed was the two single beds, quickly realising that he would be sharing the bedroom with a complete stranger, the idea somewhat worried the young one, but as a good Christian Matt would welcome his new friend with open arms. Beginning to unpack, the naive boy prayed he would be paired with someone nice, they’d say grace together each morning and night, share bread, and do whatever other religious nonsense running though the poor boy’s mind.

***

Jason wanted three things in life: a carton of cigarettes, designer clothes and a free pass at life. With a personality perfectly fit for reality TV, and a face for it too (as he would tell you), him and St.Annes didn’t seem like the ideal match. For one, he was far from religious, convinced he’d begin frothing at the mouth if he even stepped within fifty feet of a church. He wasn’t frothing yet, so at least that’s a positive. ‘Out of all the boarding schools they could have sent me to, why did it have to be one that bust a nut over the Old Testament’, Jason sighed at his thoughts and examined the endless list of rules that he was not planning on biding by.

While Matt had paid zero attention to the rule list, having already researched all the guidelines weeks in advance (his nightmare would be disrespecting the school on his first day after all), Jason viewed them in disgust:

1. No smoking
 2. No drugs or other illegal substances 
3. No alcohol 
4. No visible piercings 
5. No leaving dorms after curfew
 6. No sexual activity 
7. No leaving the school grounds 
8. No chewing gum
 9. Uniform must be worn at all times during school hours
 10. No excessive makeup

Before he even finished the figurative novel of restrictions in front of him, a swamp-green haired female voiced his own thoughts, “this is bullshit.” Pretty much summed it all up.

“I second that,” Jason agreed, now fully examining the oddity beside him. She was tall, easily towering above him, the black knee-high heels probably helped that fact, but Jason knew he’d still be looking up at her even with them off. The mermaid-esque creature was also doused in various shades of glitter, as if she bathed in the shiny flakes before leaving the house. She was basically a mix between a cartoon character and doll, which both intrigued and amused Jason.

She turned towards his voice, smiling widely, joyed to discover a fellow punk-rock, party-lover who was ready to throw these rules aside and actually make their time in this shithole an enjoyable one. “I’m Adore!”

“Adore? We’re your parents high when naming you or did they just hate you?” Jason cackled, blatantly demonstrating his lack of filter, luckily Adore was too high (on life and life alone) to care about Jason’s rude demeanour.

“Well my parents named me Danny, but I thought Adore was a more suited for a mythical beauty from another world like myself,” she adjusted her shorts that had began to ride up, somehow higher than they already were, and continued bantering with her new friend. Jason introduced himself also, and the two quickly realised they had both been banished to St.Annes under the same reasoning: smoking, partying and sucking dick. The twosome were shedding tears of laughter after this realisation, earning strange looks from a silver-haired boy clutching onto a leather- bound bible with dear life, and a disgruntled demand to shush from Sister Courtney.

After a solid ten minutes the pair had calmed down, Adore pulled a cigarette from her bra, gestured to the door as an invitation, though Jason just shook his head. “I’m gonna check out my roomie, make sure he’s not a psycho bible-basher,” the dark-haired boy explained, “and to check if he’s cute,” he added with a wink. Adore dismissed him by merely stating ‘party’ and strolling off.

***

Matt was a stickler for rules, and they were specifically instructed to find their rooms and get unpacked immediately, so when his roomie was still vacant after a generous half an hour, Matt knew the pairing were not going to be compatible. He, however, had already changed into the uniform provided, reread the rules twice - just to make sure, and secured his own personal cross above his bed.

Dinner was in an hour, and just as Matt’s frustration over a lack of company grew, the door opened. Opened was a loose term, thrown would probably suit the action better, as the door slammed into the wall with such a force that Matt’s treasured cross was knocked onto the soft comforter below. Matt released an almost comical gasp, immediately rushing over to fix it back in its rightful place, all while Jason stared at the boy.

At that moment, Jason went through a spiral of emotions. His venture began with amusement, what could he say, this vulnerable religious boy cooing over a mere cross was considerably amusing. Then annoyance, realising that he was forced to room with a stuck-up freak whose kink was the bible - he brought his own cross from home, who brings more crosses to a bloody religious school, it’s not like they needed anymore. Though Jason could just about put up with all of that, as that boy was unbelievably attractive and Jason was easily won over (that’s a nicer way of phrasing that Matt’s face alone made him undeniably ‘excited’).

‘God I haven’t talked to you, like at all, maybe that one time when I broke my leg and thought I was going to die, but that’s beside the point. I want to send my most grateful thanks for creating that boy’s face, that is all. A-to-the-fuckin-men.’

Matt immediately recognised his new roommate as the boy who had stared him down earlier, the one who must have cold knees from the impractical rips in his trousers, and to be honest, the milky-skinned creature observing him again made him undeniably agitated. Though the bible preached finding the positive aspects in everybody you encounter, so he had no choice but to give the obvious delinquent the benefit of the doubt. “Hello there, I’m Matt! I guess we’ll be roommates for a while, so we best get used to each other!”

To Jason, this was a higher dose of enthusiasm than he could handle, so he merely muttered ‘Jason’ and threw himself onto the leftover, unclaimed mattress. Every time Matt’s peppy voice piped up, Jason merely grunted in reply, and eventually fell asleep to a truly fascinating tale about a pregnant choir singer.

“And so she was in the middle of the chorus, and her water broke, right there in the middle of church, and -”

***

Jason was disgusted by what this church considered food, so with a plate stacked with cross shaped tator-tots, he searched for somebody who wasn’t going to rant about Satan (or whatever religious people spent their free time discussing). He soon recognised Adore sat next to scrawny blonde woman, and joined the pair.

“Hey baby girl!” Adore welcomed as he sat opposite the other-worldly individual, “I was gonna order pizza cause the foods tastes like actual arse, but the nearest place apparently got yelled at by Courtney the last time they brought pizza here or some shit, and now they’re too scared to come back.”

“But that is not the even best part, Adoor, you offered to eat his pepperoni do you not remember,” Jason cackled along with the tale, and immediately clocked the thick Russian accent the woman sported, “I go by the name of Katya in this American land my friend, and you?”

“Jason. Are you from Russia?” He asked, pushing the so called 'food’ around his plate, pizza honestly sounded so good right now.

“No Shit Sherlock,” Adore drawled sarcastically, causing Jason to playfully kick her beneath the table, before turning his attention back to his new acquaintance.

“No, no, Adoor this is a sensible question, I could have been from many a place. But yes I am from Russia, though I much prefer the Americas, it’s not as cold so I do not have to wear so much fur of the dead animal!”

The conversation continued along that nature, Jason soon learning that Katya and Adore ended up being roommates, and Jason venting about his extremely attractive yet bible-worshipping roomie, until the one and only topic of conversation strolled past. Matt’s eyes were frantically darting around, trying to find an empty table to perch at to avoid awkward conversations with strangers, he was having no luck in the matter.

“Thats him,” Jason pointed out, and he kid you not, Adore and Katya were the least subtle people to ever walk the halls of St.Annes, case in point:

“That one?” Katya asked, arm stretched and pointed directly at the brunette, Matt and all those around him turning to towards her, curious to what spectacle was occurring in the previously lifeless dining hall.

“Jason you were right that man right there is bomb.com.org.co.uk,” Adore voiced, which - again - everyone overheard. Even the neighbouring table agreed, muttering various compliments under their breaths towards the baffled Matt.

“His bum bum is very cute,” Katya just had to add. Adore hummed in approval. And who’s kidding, Jason also hummed in approval.

Matt was completely frazzled by half the hall of students gazing his way, all apparently appreciating his arse and gawking at his physical appearance. Matt looked for the source of commotion, and of course, he made eye contact with a smirking Jason seated at a nearby table, partnered by two fairly unconventional looking women. Be a good Christsin Matt, be nice, smile, and be on your way. As he was about to saunter off as far away from the scene as he could, Jason gestured for him to take a seat. Matt swallowed, hard.

’Weird company is better than no company I guess.’ Matt thought, quietly sitting down beside his new roommate.

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