#it’s hard pulling that out of your ass while the cost of bills goes up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanderecandystore · 3 years

Note

ok hear me out; the twins becoming infatuated with their postman. Like they’re only around once a week to deliver bills or personal letters but the twins r still head over heels for them nontheless. bonus points if the s/o is either oblivious or obviously doesn’t reciprocate

I loved this idea so much yet I was like: Oh no wait I have to write it, how do I write it?!?!

Thanks for requesting boo! I have to apologise for not only taking so long but for me procrastinating on answering you. I've been having a difficult time, that's all, thanks for your patience!

TW/Tags: pretty short // parents are just as crazy as their children, always remember that // I tried writing this so many times ;-; none of them ended on my liking // overprotective/helicopter parents // twins being spoiled children that don't know how to do jackshit- // errors here and there because again, this was kinda hard to come up with especially with bad internet connection and sicknesses-

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

The Package [Yandere!Bully OC x Reader - Headcanon]:

→ Adrien Coldwell:

Adrien is a mommy's boy, even if his sister is considered the popular one, he recognizes that his mother loves doing what he asks her. Of course, if he asks kindly enough-

And by that I mean he makes himself sound like a good kid despite the fact he is a grown ass man trying to get his mother to buy him stuff.

It's nothing much in his opinion, he just wanted to get a new shirt he found online from a YouTuber he likes. He may not be the most affectionate person out there yet he really wanted to support that guy, they're so cool to him…

Now, you might be wondering- How the fuck does rich people with their own careers ask money/gifts from their parents? Let me tell you how, they're grounded and won't be able to use their own money for at least a month or two (oh, the horror!? They can't waste money on stupid shit for a month-)

Both twins got themselves grounded for being childish and getting less than preferable grades, so neither of them could actually pay for their addiction to buy new things constantly.

And that's kinda where you fit on this story, dearest. You were accustomed to delivering mail around this rich neighborhood yet you never really interacted with the people around out of fear that maybe that one celebrity you find extremely sweet turns out to be a dick head. Not everyone that is rich or famous is bad, it's just that you don't want to risk it at all, yet you still wave and smile while going about your day.

It's really interesting how you never really interacted or seen a Coldwell in person. So many packages and mails to deliver them, yet every single time you looked around, you only found a couple of people that worked for them tending their garden, washing their cars, etc. This was the first time you actually saw one of them in person, you were kinda surprised to see the man in front of you.

You recognized him instantly, Adrien Coldwell, a male fashion model that is kinda popular with your friend group for some reason. I mean- You see the appeal, but, eh, you don't really care enough to actually see stuff about him, yet you do know some rumours of his generally antisocial behavior, which by the looks of it seems to be true.

He… Uhn, just stands there looking at you, like he is waiting for something or…. Or he doesn't know what to do. Although his expression is a literal straight face with wide eyes, you can see small glimpses of internalized panic written over his features. You waved at him to see if he would react by coming closer and picking the package from your hands.

However he got a little surprised by your waving, so he just waved back while coming closer awkwardly, as if he needed more clues from you so he could know what to do.

"- …. You seem really socially awkward." You ended up blurting out without thinking how embarrassed you could have made him feel.

"- I uhn-" He wasn't really sure what to say, he never really took the mail inside, normally he would wait for others to bring it in, yet his mother has only allowed him to buy something if he himself would be the one to actually sign it up, bring it inside and unpack it without someone else being payed to do so. Adrien bad-mouths people on a daily basis to their faces, yet he feels a little awkward whenever he is faced with taking responsibility for once and he feels embarrassed to come across as a child that was too overly protected to actually learn how to do certain things on their own.

You felt pity on him, thinking that maybe he was just socially anxious about interacting with people, so you taught him how the process goes and how simple it is. You were accustomed with teaching people this so you weren't really taken back by it.

While you were teaching him how easy the process was, he was thinking that you were just another peasant thinking too highly of themselves to be teaching him all this simple stuff he should be aware of by now. He felt ashamed of having to be taught by someone of his own age how to do something so trivial yet the way he decided to hide his embarrassment was by dismissing you as a commoner in his head. He didn't openly say that, but he did sign his name angrily, like a bratty child.

You said bye while you decided that you had spent way too much time on only one location, you needed to move quickly to your next delivery. He didn't say "bye" because while he was feeling overly emotional about such a common situation, he accidentally said "hi" instead.

You didn't hear what he said, yet he felt even more pathetic so he clutched his package and went back inside the mansion stomping his way in.

Even after that incident, he kept thinking about it over and over again. As if there was something about it that he needed to address so he could actually move on with his life. Yes, this is pure pettiness mixed with anxiety, but he would still justify it as "well, they're the ones that should know their place-".

Adrien decided that for that day onward he would keep pestering you whenever he could find you placing their bills inside their mailbox. It was surprisingly harder than he expected to know exactly when you come over to deliver the bills and packages, especially since your department insisted on substituting you with some random ass person from time to time.

You could say that, well…. The days where he was left waiting for you without you ever coming over were the worst ones. He did feel lonely in those days.

You never really reacted to his mean blunt comments, were you even aware of his intentions at all? Maybe you didn't want to react purposely, or maybe you only recognised that attitude as his way to communicate since you never stopped thinking he was really shy and awkward. You did hear rumours of him being pretty blunt and "too honest", so you treated it as a normal thing.

Your naivety was both alluring and repulsive. How can someone be so dumb and cute and wear THAT uniform-

Maybe… Maybe he is starting to catch a crush on you?? On YOU, the mailman. A commoner, a simpleton-

This is- Terrible! This is outrageous yet- I guess he simply can't help it, it feels right to have a crush on you, yet it feels so wrong to not know anything about you. But what can he do to know you more? Start working as a postman for the sake of having some time with you? Hah! Never-

But, hey… Maybe his parents could pull some strings, right? Maybe it would cost him a lot of effort, but something tells him that his mother would gladly help him find a way to bloom these feelings more appropriately.

→ Alexandra Coldwell:

Alexandra is a daddy's girl, even if she is considered the most popular of the two, she doesn't have that good of a relationship with her mother, but her father on the other hand will give her anything she asks if she makes a pouty pitiful face-

Her next big project involved getting sparkly rollerblades she found online. Yes, they were pretty tacky, but hey! Give her some slack! They were beautiful to her, okay??

Both twins got themselves grounded for being childish and getting less than preferable grades, so neither of them could actually pay for their addiction to buy new things constantly.

It's really interesting how you never really interacted or seen a Coldwell in person. So many packages and mails to deliver them, yet every single time you looked around, you only found a couple of people that worked for them tending their garden, washing their cars, etc. This was the first time you actually saw one of them, you were kinda surprised to see the woman in front of you.

You do know about the rumours surrounding the Coldwells about them being pretty outspoken and being extremely social people, yet you couldn't really confirm that fact since the woman standing in your presence hasn't even looked at you directly ever since you came closer to her home.

She did wave at you, although the smile she gave you was kinda fake. As if she was holding her laughter or something, you aren't so sure of what she could be laughing about though.

You instantly recognized her, miss Alexandra Coldwell, the female fashion model that you heard about because your friends are a bunch of simps- I mean, you do see why, but- I don't know, you're not here to drool over her, you're here to give her the package in your hands.

Alexandra kept tapping her foot and looking at each side as if she was waiting for someone while you stayed still, awkwardly waiting for her to catch the fact you're standing there.

It takes her some time to acknowledge your presence and remember exactly why she was standing there in the first place. She was kinda hoping someone else would pick her mail for her, so that's why she kept waiting for so long. Alexandra forgot her dad made her promise she would be the one to take it inside instead of calling a "servant" to pick it for her, oops.

"- Oh! Oh…." She suddenly realized that not only and her been waiting someone to instantly help her, but she was now being obligated to interact with you, a peasant-

"- Oh well…. Uhn, hi- How are you today?" She asked while trying her best to sound confident and not at all bothered by that ugly ass uniform your department gave you-

You interpreted that maybe she wasn't expecting you? Eh, either way you gave her the package after asking her to sign her name, and then went back to your usual day.

Although it was the most normal and simplest of interactions she ever had, Alexandra was dumbfounded by how simple it was, it's funny how a person as old as her still struggles with these common things due to either social anxiety or not the greatest parenting growling up.

Still, she felt kinda humiliated to be taught how to do such a simple task as taking the mail by someone wearing a ugly uniform-

Even after that incident, she kept thinking about it over and over again. As if there was something about it that she needed to address so she could actually move on with her life. Yes, this is pure pettiness mixed with anxiety, but she would still justify it as "well, they're the ones that should know their place-".

Alexandra decided that for that day onward she would keep pestering you whenever she could find you placing their bills inside their mailbox. It was surprisingly harder than she expected to know exactly when you come over to deliver the bills and packages, especially since your department insisted on substituting you with some random ass person from time to time.

You could say that, well…. The days where she was left waiting for you without you ever coming over were the worst ones. She did feel lonely in those days.

You've never really caught her spiteful tone, have you? You either ignored it or treated as Alexandra's way of joking with you, since you've heard she has a tendency to do that a lot.

Your naivety was both alluring and repulsive. How can someone be so dumb and cute and wear THAT uniform-

Maybe… Maybe she is starting to catch a crush on you?? On YOU, the mailman. A commoner, a simpleton-

This is- Terrible! This is outrageous yet- I guess she simply can't help it, it feels right to have a crush on you, yet it feels so wrong to not know anything about you. But what can she do to know you more? Start working as a postman for the sake of having some time with you? Hah! Never-

But, hey… Maybe her parents could pull some strings, right? Maybe it would cost her a lot of effort, but something tells her that her father would gladly help her find a way to bloom these feelings more appropriately.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere bully #yandere twins #yandere oc headcanon #yandere bully x reader #yandere oc x reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

75 notes · View notes

nblesbianbenhanscom · 3 years

Note

43+45 for kaspbroughzier or streddie

anon! hello! a million years later, and your fic is ready! are you even still here? i hope so ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

i had to go with the kasproughzier cause i love those goofs and also sonia is the perfect no, really you don’t want to meet my family.

the prompts were ‘trust me, you don’t want to meet my family’ + ‘you may technically be an adult, but you are still my child.’

***

read it on ao3

Little Dashes of Doom

“Eh-Eddie, your phone is r-ringing,” Bill says. It’s the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Just turn it off, Bill. I’m not going to answer it.” Eddie doesn’t look up from his computer.

“Buh-But it’s your ma.”

“I know, Bill. I already told her when I was coming home. She can chill.” He sounds tired, and Bill just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and make him relax between him and Richie. This semester had really kicked all of their asses.

Bill watches the phone as it stops ringing. It dings a moment later with a voicemail. Bill picks it up and turns it off. He kisses Eddie’s hair as he sits it on the table next to him.

“H-How’s the puh-aper coming?” Bill asks as he opens up the fridge. Bill himself had just finished his own last final just a few hours before.

“I hate fucking Shakespeare,” Eddie growls.

“Th-That good, eh?”

Eddie doesn't respond while Bill looks through the fridge. He finds a beer and heads to the couch where Richie is playing on their shared Switch. His legs are spread awkwardly, one up and over the back of the couch, the other hanging down by the floor. Bill sits in between his legs, pulling Richie’s leg into his lap.

“Hey, babycakes, you ok?” Richie asks without looking up.

“I’m ok.” Bill takes a sip of his beer. “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Shit! I just fucking died!” He sighs and lets the Switch fall to his chest. “What are we doing for food?”

“We have l-leftover p-pizza,” Bill says.

Groaning, Richie sits up and tugs himself closer to Bill with his legs. He leans close and kisses Bill’s neck.

“I am so tired of pizza.” Richie scrapes his teeth against Bill’s chin. “Maybe I’ll just have you for dinner. How does that sound?” They giggle and Eddie huffs from the kitchen.

“Ugh, rude of you to start without me,” Eddie grouses, but there’s no real heat to his words.

Bill and Richie giggle again.

“S-Sorry, E-Eddie!”

“We were just discussing dinner.” Richie kisses Bill’s neck again.

Giggling, Bill pushes him away. “Shhh… St-Stop.”

Richie just pulls him closer and they giggle again.

“If I fail my final, it will be all your faults!” Eddie yells.

“Wh-What d-do you want for d-dinner?” Bill asks.

Eddie is silent for a minute. “Surprise me.”

Bill turns and kisses Richie. “We’re guh–nna go p-pick up dinner.”

“We are?” Richie asks. Bill nods. He holds his hand out and Richie takes it. They go to the door, tug on their coats and boots. It’s cold outside, but Bill just holds tightly to Richie’s hand.

“Where to, Big B?” Richie asks after they’ve climbed in the car.

Bill shrugs. “I don’t care.” He thinks for a minute. “Wh-Where do you—”

“I already told you what I wanted.” Richie winks.

Leaning back against the passenger seat headrest, Bill smiles at him. “Ok, b-but like a-actual food, Richie.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Richie says. They talk for a few more minutes and end up going to the local diner. They get pancakes, fries, salad, and pie. Sometimes Eddie has trouble eating when he’s stressed, and they want to make sure to get him something he’ll eat.

When they get back, Eddie’s computer and his books are in a neat stack. The bathroom door is closed and they can hear him screaming at someone.

“I am working on my finals, mommy!” Eddie screams. Richie and Bill hesitate in the doorway. They look at each other but creep in. It’s been a while since Eddie had gone off like this. When they’d first met him a few years back, he’d yelled a lot more. Richie liked to tease that he was a feral chihuahua until Eddie’d absolutely lost it and tried to beat Richie up. It hadn’t gone well; Richie was so much taller than him and he had just pulled him into a hug, apologies sliding off his tongue. He promised to never do it again. After that, there were less and less explosions until there were none.

“No! No! You listen! I’m doing my work. I’ll be home in three days. Three! You have my–” Eddie pauses. “Please, would you just–”

Richie puts the food on the table and Bill clears away Eddie’s school work.

“God damnit, mom! They are not my roommates, they are my boyfriends. We have been over and over–” Another pause. “Well maybe I won’t come home then!” There’s another pause followed by a loud banging sound and then Eddie begins to sob.

Bill and Richie look at each other as they sit there listening to Eddie cry and yell at himself. Bill can’t quite make out everything he’s saying, but he knows it’s not good. He hears things like pussy, and coward, and little bitch. Things that he’d been told his whole life. Things Bill had thought he’d worked through.

Bill had apparently been wrong.

“I’m gonna go get him,” Richie says, and gets up. Bill catches his hand, and shakes his head. They sigh.

“Wuh–ne m-more m-minute.” He swallows hard. Richie sits back down slowly. Bill hates this just as much as Richie, but he doesn’t want to push Eddie too hard.

Slowly, Eddie’s sobs lessen. Bill wants to get up and go to him, but still he hesitates. Richie leans into his space and rests his head on Bill’s shoulder.

“Can we go get him now?” Richie asks.

Bill licks his lips. He’s about to say yes when they hear the bathroom door open, and Eddie sees them as soon as he looks up.

“Oh,” he says softly. His eyes are red and puffy. He swallows hard several times. “I-I–” And then tears fill his eyes, and his face crumbles, and Richie and Bill go to him, pull him close and let him cling to them as he cries.

“It’s ok, Eddie, we’ve got you,” Richie murmurs into his hair. “We’ve got you.”

“L-Let it out, b-baby,” Bill whispers.

Eddie’s fingers dig into Bill’s shirt as he sobs. His whole body is shaking and Bill wishes he could find Sonia Kaspbrak and give her a piece of his mind, but he tries to push these thoughts away as he kisses Eddie’s hair.

They sit on the couch, and it takes a long time for Eddie to calm down. Even after he’s stopped crying, he still clings to them. He whines when Richie pulls away.

“I’ll be back, my love, just going to get you some water,” Richie says as Eddie grips his shirt hem.

“But I–” Eddie’s hoarse, and Bill can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“I-It w-will help,” Bill says. He reaches out and pulls Eddie’s hand free. “It will help.” Slowly, Eddie lets go and lets Bill lace their fingers together. He leans back into Bill and closes his eyes.

After Eddie drinks his water, he looks around at them with heavy sad eyes. He’s cradled between them, both of them pushing into his space.

“I’m–I’m sorry,” Eddie says.

“What for, love?” Richie asks. He strokes Eddie’s hair, kisses his temple.

“Because I–Because I’m such a freaking mess,” Eddie whispers.

“Yo-You’re n-not a m-mess.” Bill kisses Eddie behind his ear and Eddie’s eyelashes flutter a little.

“Your mom is a fucking cunt,” Richie says.

Bill frowns at him. Eddie usually freaks whenever someone says something bad about his mom.

“Yeah, she is,” Eddie says.

Bill and Richie make shocked noises. Bill squeezes him.

“I’m just so tired of her. She’s...” His voice waivers and takes a deep breath. “I have to use the bathroom.” Eddie gives them each a kiss before he gets up.

Once the door is closed, Richie looks at Bill, scowling.

“What the fuck is that bitch’s problem?” Richie growls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.” Bill sighs. He scoots closer to Richie. “I h-hate her so much. It’s been s-such a l-long t-time si-since–”

“Yeah, he’s been doing so good.” Richie huffs. “I just wish I could meet that bitch just one time so I could–”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet my mom,” Eddie says. Richie and Bill jump, neither of them had heard the toilet flush. “C’mon. I’m hungry.”

Sharing glances, Richie and Bill get up and follow Eddie into the kitchen. He’s sitting at the table, pulling the food out of the bag and frowns at the fries.

“Aww, fuck, they’re cold.” Eddie’s lip trembles a little. “I’m sorry. I should have waited to call. I just finished my final and I–”

“N-No, b-baby. It’s ok. Th-The fries w–ill heat up,” Bill says.

“Yeah,” Richie agrees. “That’s why God invented microwaves, right?” He picks up the container and throws it in, pushing buttons quickly. “See? It’s fine.”

Sniffling, Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Nuked fries taste so gross.”

“I think we got some cheese and Ranch. That will help.” Richie goes to the fridge as Eddie looks at the rest of the food and looks up at Bill.

“You two are the best, do you know that?” Eddie asks. Richie kisses his hair as he wraps his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“N-No you,” Bill says.

Wrapping his fingers around Richie’s forearms, Eddie kisses his inner arm. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too.” Richie pulls away as the microwave beeps.

After they eat, they curl up on the couch to watch TV. They’re all crossed limbs and elbows in stomachs and pulled hair, but they don’t really care. Eddie just lets the others hold him close, pet his hair, kiss him.

“Are you doing better?” Richie asks after a bit. Eddie shrugs.

“Wh-What happened?” Bill asks.

Eddie shrugs again. “Just the usual. I finished my paper like right after you left, so I decided to call her before she called the police like she did that one time, and she said since I was done with my finals that I needed to come home right away. When I said I want to stay with you two, that my ticket is nonrefundable or exchangeable, she said she didn’t care about the cost, that she’d pay and…” He sighs. “She just wouldn’t listen. She kept saying, ‘You may be an adult, but you’re still my child.’” He huffs. “I’ve been financially independent from that old bag for over a year. She has no right to say shit like that to me any more.”

“N-No, she doesn’t,” Bill agrees.

“Honestly, she never should have talked to you that way, ever,” Richie says. Eddie leans a little closer to him. He plays with the strings on Bill’s hoodie.

“I know,” Eddie whispers.

Bill can hardly believe what he’s hearing. His heart fills with pride and he pulls Eddie’s legs into his lap and cups Eddie’s face in his hands before kissing him so, so gently. When they pull apart, Bill pushes his forehead into Eddie’s forehead.

“L-Love you,” Bill whispers. When he pulls back, Richie presses his own kiss into Eddie’s temple.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Richie says. “You can come home with us.”

“O-Or we c-could go wi-with you,” Bill says.

Eddie shakes his head. “It will be ok.”

Sighing, Richie shakes his head, no. “You shouldn’t have to deal with her alone. Let us come with you.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Y-You d–idn’t. We’re t-telling you. We’re coming wi–th you,” Bill says. Richie smiles at Bill.

“You really don’t–”

“Eds, you may as well give it up. We’re coming with you, and if your mom can’t deal, well, fuck her, and we’ll leave early.” Richie pauses. “In fact, plan on it. We’ll all have to change our tickets, call our families, but we’ll split up the break evenly. It will be fun.”

“We can’t afford that!” Eddie protests.

“Y-Yes we c-can! I just got p-paid for th–at piece I wrote a why-while back,” Bill says.

“No, Bill, you were going to use that for a new computer!” Eddie says.

“I’ll j-just st-steal yours.” Bill strokes his arm.

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie murmurs, but there’s a small smile on my face. He sighs and leans into Richie. “You guys are the best, do you know that?”

“N-No, you.” Bill laces their fingers together.

“Yeah, spaghetti, you’re the best.” Richie kisses his hair.

Eddie closes his eyes, and settles back.

“We d-don’t have to m-make any d-decisions tonight,” Bill says. “W-We can t-talk t-tomorrow.”

“Ok,” Eddie says. He sighs again and sits up. “You guys wanna do something?”

“Like what?” Richie asks.

“Play Mario Kart?”

“Only if you don't cry when I kick your butt!" Richie says as he pulls himself free and gets up to set up the Switch. Eddie scoots around and leans into Bill's side.

"Yeah, we'll see who cries, Tozier!" Eddie teases.

Bill knows it is a toss-up between the two; they are both really good. It's Bill that's going to be the loser, but he doesn't really care. He's terrible at video games, but he loves being with his boyfriends.

He sits there listening to them argue about who is the worst player and waits to be handed a controller. He loves listening to them bicker like this, and he knows Eddie bickering is a good sign. Licking his lips, Bill leans into Eddie, eyes closed for a moment.

"You ok, Bill?" Eddie asks as Richie's attention falters. He's fighting with the cords and cursing under his breath.

"Yeah, I'm good." Bill takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Love you so much."

Eddie squeezes his hand. "Love you."

"Got it!" Richie says triumphantly. He tosses a couple of controllers at them and sits near the TV. "You two losers ready?"

"Shut up, buttmunch," Eddie says. "Get ready to eat my dust!"

"Bring it!" Richie says.

Bill struggles with his controller and gets settled. He knows the next couple of weeks are going to be hard. Eddie had agreed tonight that they would change their winter break plans, but that doesn't mean that it isn't going to be a struggle. He knows Eddie wants to break free, but Bill knows it isn’t easy; Sonia has a firm grip on her son.

Bill is not looking forward to the back and forth that is inevitably coming, but he decides there is no point in worrying about that now. Right now, Eddie is happy, Eddie is safe, and the three of them are going to have a good night. Tomorrow is future Bill’s problem, and tonight all he has to worry about is not driving the wrong way on the track. He knows everything will be ok.

#kaspbroughzier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it #it chapter 2 #i love these losers so much #i'm sorry it took so long #life got hectic #then i took a writing break #i hope you like it.#Anonymous

29 notes · View notes

tsukihotaru · 3 years

Text

Laser Tag

Summary: Ace and Sabo go to Laser Tag together with a few friends and Luffy. Things happen and needless to say Sabo is a little shit and Ace is a flustered mess.

Relationship: Sabo and Ace

Tags: make out/slightly heavy make out

Notes: While I was dealing with some medical issues, I asked @lovelybutnot-ablankcanvas to give me a prompt to write while I was waiting for some answers. And they send a prompt of

“Take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. Then shoot me and walk away.”

This was the result :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was actually Sabo’s idea to go to Laser Tag. Ace wasn’t against it, it seemed fun and honestly he’s always wanted to go. They invited a few others to tag along, Luffy was first since he was in the room with them when they made the plan. The others being Thatch, Izo, and Koala. Izo didn’t want to go at first but Thatch convinced him somehow. They did try to get Marco to come along, but he had work and wouldn’t be able to make it.

At the laser tag building, Sabo and Ace were waiting at the entrance for everyone to get there. Luffy had already went inside to play some of the arcade machines scattered around the place. Ace was on his phone, leaning against Sabo who had his arm resting around Ace’s shoulders.

“Just got a text from Thatch, they should be here soon since they got Koala a couple of minutes ago.” Ace explains and Sabo hums, gently rubbing the freckled mans shoulder.

“Sounds good. I bet Luffy’s going nuts in there waiting to run around in the arena.”

“I’m sure he’s ok. He has plenty of games to keep him company, I’m just worried about the mini food court. It ain’t gonna last long with us three in there.” Sabo couldn’t help but grin at his boyfriends comment. Knowing it’s so true.

“Better hope Thatch is bringing snacks. While me and you are bad, Luffy is a whole other problem.” Ace laughs at this, leaning closer into Sabo’s side.

“He’s the reason why we need a damn bank account dedicated to food cost.”

“And one for medical bills…” Ace just rolls his eyes at that.

“He’s such an accident hazard..” Sabo rubs his face at just thinking of the amount of times Luffy has ended up with a broken bone or needing stitches.

“Hey guys!!” Looking over they see Thatch, Izo, and Koala walking over to them, Thatch waving at them. Ace waves back, but doesn’t move out of his spot next to Sabo.

“You guys didn’t have to wait out here for us. Where’s Luffy??” Koala asks once they get over.

“Inside playing at the arcade, it was better than him sitting with us and risk him running off to do who knows what.” Ace explains and the others laugh. He pulls away from Sabo’s side, but takes his hand to replace the contact. The group starts to head inside and to the floor Laser Tag was on, having some small talk about things that have happened at work and such. Once inside Ace looks around for their brother, praying the boy didn’t do anything stupid when they were away. Luckily he was just sitting on top of the race car games. Letting go of Sabo’s hand, he heads over to Luffy.

“Go get our rounds set up while I get Luffy.” He calls out to Sabo, getting a ‘alright’ before getting close to Luffy.

“Yo Luffy, you ready for some Laser Tag?” Luffy instantly jumped up at this with a large grin.

“Hell yea let’s go!” Luffy jumps off the fake bike an grabs Ace by the arm, dragging him over to the others at the counter.

“Jeez Luffy relax! You haven’t been waiting that long!” Ace protests but goes nothing to pull his arm away from his little brother. Once at the counter Sabo looks over and chuckles at them.

“Excited Luffy?”

“Yea!! This is gonna be so fun, come on let’s go!” Luffy starts running for the entrance but both Sabo and Ace grab him before he can.

“Hold on Luffy, we still have to wait for our time.” Sabo explains, holding up some small papers in his hand.

“How long do we have to wait??” Luffy tilts his head with a pout. Sabo chuckles and ruffles his hair gently.

“We only have to wait a few more minutes, the next game is very soon you just have to wait a little longer ok?” Sabo hugs Luffy to calm him, but also to make sure he didn’t run off. Luffy, still pouting, returns the hugs regardless and cuddled against the blond. Ace just rolls his eyes but smiles at them, pulling his boyfriend and brother close for a group hug.

They wait a couple of minutes to be called and then are lead into a small room with a bunch of other people to play. The workers there explain how to play the game and how to put on the vests and how to work the guns. They explains how you can pick names for your vests and change the colors as well. Once everything was explained then the workers opened the door to the room with all the vests, letting everyone inside.

Sabo grabs a vest with a blue color to it, while Luffy grabbed a yellow one. Koala followed Sabo’s lead and grabbed a blue one. Thatch, Izo, and Ace all grabbed a red colored vest, thinking it would be fun to be on a team since Luffy wanted to be on yellow alone. They get in line to change their names, the others just used the normal names while the brothers used fun names. Ace went by “Fire Fist”, Luffy went by “Straw Hat”, and Sabo went by “Blue Dragon”. Once all the names were given they all rush inside and split up, going to different areas and corners of the arena.

Ace waits alone in a corner hidden away from everyone for the countdown to begin. He split up from Thatch and Izo cuz he wanted to go wild and run around without having to worry about losing them. He heard the countdown start and he grins, peeking around the corner from where he was to see if anyone was around. He heard others running up and down the slopes and halls, it was dark but still illuminated by the black lights around the arena. The moment the countdown stops, Ace smirks and runs out from his hiding place.

Running around the corner he sees a group with their back turned to him, they were colored orange and Ace instantly starts shooting at them. When one of the vests shuts down and beeps, the other two freak out and turn to shoot him, but he got them instantly before running off.

Ace runs around shooting everyone he sees that’s a different color. It might be his first time but he thinks he’s doing pretty good, and having a blast while at it. Suddenly the freckled man sees Luffy jumping OFF the second story platform to the first and he nearly heart attack.

“LUFFY DON’T FUCKING JUMP OFF TO THE FIRST FLOOR!” Ace yelled out to him, shooting him and making Luffy’s vest shut down for a little bit as payback for scaring him half to death. Luffy just laughs and keeps running off.

“SORRY ACE!~” He then turned a corner and was gone. Ace just huffed and went back to running and shooting people he saw. Thinking up ways to kick Luffy’s ass once they were home.

Running past a secluded hall with small but deep rooms imbedded into it, Ace wasn’t paying attention much since he didn’t hear anyone around him. But then his vest was grabbed and he let out a yell as he was pulled back into one of the rooms and slammed against the wall. He was about to shout and kick the person pinning him against the wall with the body, till he sees it was Sabo with a large smirk. Ace’s body relaxed and huffed.

“Fuckin hell Sabo why did you grab me like that?” Sabo just let out a soft laugh and wrapped an arm around Ace’s waist.

“Aw lighten up Ace.. come on you’ve been running around all this time.. and we still have about half an hour left so why don’t we take a few minutes and relax together..” Sabo gently places a kiss onto Ace’s lips with a grin. Ace gives Sabo a questioning look. Neither of them needed a break, they could go on for hours and barely break a sweat. But who was he to deny alone time with his boyfriend?

“Alright then Sabo.. What do you have in mind to ‘relax’ hm?” Despite it being very dark, lightly illuminated by the black light in the hall, Ace could see Sabo’s grin grow. He nudges Ace’s head to the side when he went and gently starts kissing at Ace’s neck. The ebony lets out a small sigh and relaxes against him, closing his eyes, as Sabo keeps kissing his neck.

The blond trails small kisses up his neck, lightly biting at it before placing soft kisses on his jaw and cheek. He pulls away slightly before presses a kiss to Ace’s lip again. Ace hums against his lips bringing his hands up and threading them through Sabo’s blond locks, tugging at them lightly.

The kiss gets heated fairly quickly once Sabo tugs at Ace’s lip lightly and Ace just opens his mouth for the other. Sabo pushes his leg in between Ace’s and grinds against him lightly, causing out to let out a small moan. Ace was glad no one was running down these halls all too often, he didn’t want to deal with the staff finding out about this. Not that they cared if they were found, it would just be annoying.

Pulling Sabo deeper into the kiss by tugging his hair a little harder, getting a small noise from Sabo clearly enjoyed it. It was going like that for a while that Ace was so focused on it and unaware about their surroundings.

Till he heard a gun go off and his vest make a loud beeping noise. Ace full on stops and snaps his eyes open, feeling Sabo’s lips slowly grow into a smirk. Sabo pulled away from the kiss with the biggest shit eating grin against his lips.

“Thanks for the points babe.. Maybe we can finish this later at home yea?~” Sabo ducked in quickly and bite Ace’s neck fairly hard in his sensitive spot, causing him to let out a small yelp. Then Sabo instantly ran out of the small room and down the hall.

Ace was in shock for a second, blushing brightly and a hand on his neck where Sabo bit him. That was, till rage took him over and he bolted right after Sabo, holding his gun as he ran.

“SABO I’M GOING TO KICK YOUR KICKING ASS!!”

The rest of the time everyone heard angry yelling and loud laughter.

After the game Ace was still chasing after Sabo all around the Laser Tags Arcade area. Sabo got first place but Ace somehow got dead last.

But Ace got his revenge later that night when the two were home alone. Needless to say Sabo had a hard time walking for a couple of days.

#tsu writing #tsu writes #SaboAce #Portgas D. Ace #revolutionary sabo #monkey d. luffy #One Piece Thatch #One Piece Izo #Sabo is a little shit #I love him though uwu #didn't bother beta reading this either so #this is gonna be fun lmao #will be posted on AO3 soonish

22 notes · View notes

anogete · 4 years

Text

In Between

Hi, folks. I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes. Things have been... ::sigh:: You know, I don’t know what things have been. Not good, not bad. Just... things. I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now. So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up. Well, the engine did. I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake. So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved. The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership. They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point. I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother. She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round. She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones. The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer. She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch. She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay. No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.” Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars. When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin. Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand. I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor. Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first. At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress. Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February. It looks like the time has come. I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad. He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000. So, that’s happening next week. I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke. Ugh.

4) The days are running together. I’m working from home. I can’t complain, though. I’ve got it better than most. I’m alone all day. I have a library with a desk. I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen. I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses. I can pretty much make my own hours. The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office. Their timeline for “normal” is months. I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that. Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements. And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home. So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th. It’s not difficult for me. On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am. On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early. Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients. I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup. Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk. This is nothing new. I’ve been shopping that way for years. Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party. I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown. I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office. They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking. They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit. I walked over and escorted them to our office building. They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done. The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway. Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago. Rose passed away two weeks ago. The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing. He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war. He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests. He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120. Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year. He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well. Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him. You know, they’re shorties, too. Five foot, nothing. Just like my grandma. Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh? Yeah. After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw. But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately. So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September. (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.) I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it. But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims. The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet. And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave. I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves. At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe. But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them. Still there, but manageable. Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass. My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic.. He’s... not so good with emotional shit. And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me. But some days... Some days it just overflows. So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people. You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills. The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants. The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal. I’ll die on this hill. I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays. I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else. I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories. I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now. I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young. He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase. I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me. The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO. I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more. I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story. Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch. Parts of it hit me hard. I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period. But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me. Just like Jules. Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings. And I have no friends in this city to go back to. Just friends at work.

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months. I’m starting to miss it. I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself. Did I ever look like that? I must have since here is photographic evidence. I look like shit now. I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower. Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again. Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine. Huh.

13) I hope you all are well. If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding. My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words. I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me. I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come. I haven’t written since last summer. It’s been almost a year. I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass. It’s about death, I suppose. Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely. It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass. If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.”

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

69 notes · View notes

johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

Coffee with Cream

Chapter 2: Dream of You

full masterlist

series masterlist

Pairings: Frank Castle x reader x Mad Sweeney

Word count: 2,693

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, street fight, men being men.

Summary: Two men, one diner and little old you. Working at a diner had never been your dream job but, fate had a funny way of bringing two contrasted men into your life.

a/n: hey guys! as you all know my obsession over frank castle and pablo schreiber had been exploding these past couple of months. and so, me and @nellblazer decided to write a good old threesome fic involving these two bulky men. hope you like it. enjoy!

You laid in your bed that night with a romance novel that you hadn't had the chance to pick up and finish in awhile due to the weariness of working double shifts. It's the same old pattern for the last few years; you'd get up early for your morning shift at the diner, rushed back home to take a little break, and possibly enjoy your catnaps before your second alarm rings for your night shift.

And then when the night was ending, you'd take another bus to get yourself home, take a shower and eat your takeout or heat up your frozen pizza, and went to bed. For years, life was merely a repetitive cycle of humdrum. You barely had time for yourself due to your relentless endeavour to stay afloat.

Living in Brooklyn when you come from a middle-class family means that you really had to fight tooth and nail to pay the bills and fill your fridge. You were raised to be an independent and hardworking person by your parents and that's why it wasn't much of a challenge for you to work double shifts at a diner when you could've taken one. You taught yourself to push through your boundaries in life, and you were aware that sometimes it's not always convenient but at least you were proud of your own effort.

That also means you didn't have time to swipe right and left on Tinder and find yourself a date. It was nearly impossible to find a decent guy in Brooklyn, let alone trusting a dating app that could possibly be utilized by creeps or murderers to find their next victim. Although your co-workers had suggested it many times to you, you refused to present yourself to the angels of death just simply you were desperate to get laid.

But tonight was different from the others. It was comical, really, how one, well, two, actually people could walk into your life, okay that was dramatic, walk into a diner and elevated the sour mood that you had grown used to in recent years, and made a difference. A good one.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a genuine smile on your face. You also couldn't remember when was the last time you felt butterflies in your stomach. And here you are, lying in bed, replaying the scenes that took place earlier. In the daylight when the bustle was in full swing and in the nighttime when the city was placid.

You barely knew anything about them and you had only met them in less than 24 hours, but, you could still remember the way Frank Castle made you feel when his brown eyes stared intensely into yours as he shook your hand. The quiet yet magnetic force that he exuded only compelled you to learn more about him. In the brief conversation that you had earlier, you knew that he was a wanderer of a man.

He'd been hoping from one place to another, but he was thinking of staying in Brooklyn for a while and you were hoping that nothing changes his mind about that. You were really hoping that you'd see him again real soon.

And then, your thoughts drifted to the second man that you encountered with earlier. His auburn hair burned the lights in the room, causing a small fire that you didn't light up. But his amorous words had left you starstruck in a way that you didn't know was possible. You weren't one to stumble on a brazenly flirtatious man but something about him was too tempting to be overlooked. And the fact that he had this eccentric thing for coins made you wonder... What else has he got up in his sleeve?

Sweeney hadn't been able to get you off his mind all night.

The grumpy server who'd taken over had definitely not been a patch on your sunny optimism or brimming curiosity. He couldn't remember the last time a girl was so interested in his stories. Usually he got brushed off as a leering drunk or just a plain old letch but you'd entertained him, asked questions and given him a form of fresh cream to boot, all for him. A form of worship as it was.

You hadn't realised it of course, nobody ever believes in gods these days unless they're the Big Three or the Norse pantheon. Little old Sweeney with his Celtic cohort was hardly going to register on anyone's radar. I mean, fuck, nobody could even say his actual name right, let alone believe he was a god.

Even so, he felt refreshed, more refreshed than he'd been in years and when he got absolutely blasted on whiskey, the feeling was not the same as it was. The crippling existentialism was gone to be replaced by joyfulness and he sang most of the way home, thoroughly amusing everyone on his way back with his rude songs. He even danced with an old lady like they used to do in the twenties which he thought had made her night as she blushed furiously and began saying it'd been a while since she'd danced with a young man in the street.

Sweeney was having the time of his life, precisely up until he got in the alleyway and his loud singing got him into trouble.

There was a group of thugs hanging around in the middle, trying to sort something out but Sweeney didn't care to venture too close to find out what precisely.

“-Well I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me, who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be!” he belts out, stumbling slightly in their direction and he sees the flash of irritation on their faces.

The next thing he knew he was getting dog piled on. Bodies seemed to leap on him from every corner and all he could think about was protecting his coin at all costs so he sent it in the Hoard, the magical hiding place for his treasure and once he'd taken a few harsh licks to the gut, he tried to pull himself together to fight back.

Drunken brawling was his speciality after all.

He wasn't expecting it when a couple of the gang members were yanked off of him. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet, delivering a haymaker to the nearest lad who's cheek splintered under his weighted punch. The kid dropped to the floor like a stone, howling about his face.

The next man behind him, he twisted and grabbed around the middle, running them backwards to the edge of a dumpster before letting go and watching his head clang noisily off the metal as they fell backwards.

Oh it had been a good long while since he'd had a fight. He missed the adrenalin, he missed the cracking of bones and the taste of blood. It spoke to his soul that was millennia old when the world was war, ale and feasting.

Sweeney finally looked up to see that another man was fighting with him, a shorter man, stockier and well built, a nose that'd been broken at least once and the buzzcut styling of an ex-military man. The newcomer shifted his position and Sweeney saw a painted skull on his chest. His first thought was that Baron Samedi was expanding his worshipper's network but it didn't make sense for the Baron to recruit a soldier when he preferred his company to be a little more love and less war.

Who the fucking hell was this guy?

“You okay?” the man asks gruffly as he sees Sweeney staring at him. “Get out. Run.”

“I ain't fuckin' runnin',” Sweeney wrinkles his face in offence. “Do I look like a pansy to you?”

“You look fuckin' drunk is what ya look,” Skull Man counters, elbowing an attacker in the mouth. “I'll handle it. Run home.”

“Callin' me a coward?” Sweeney squares up. “I don't run, boy-o.”

“Really?” Skull Man raises an eyebrow. “Ain't the time for pride, Big Red. Fight or don't fight then. I don't care. Just stay outta my way with that one.”

He points to the man who Sweeney had knocked out on the dumpster. His eyelids were fluttering as he started to regain consciousness.

“What's it worth to ya?” Sweeney shrugs.

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Skull Man storms over, coming up until he was chest to chest. “I save your ass and this is what I get?”

“Didn't ask to be saved, lad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, right back.”

Just at the point where Sweeney is curling his fingers into a fist, ready to give a good old right hook, he's hit hard in the head from behind and goes down onto his forearms, scuffing them with pebbles and dirt. He scrambles unsteadily to his feet, feeling a little trickle of blood oozing down the path of his hair and sees Skull Man beating the living shit out of the dumpster guy before finishing him off with his bare hands.

Sweeney, meanwhile, jumps back into the fist fight, taking down every other gang member who'd dared to get back up. They make a break for it, running desperately down into the other alleyways and out of sight.

“You'd better run!” Sweeney bellows after them. “You'd all be fucked if I still had my spear. I WAS A FUCKING KING ONCE, YOU CUNTS!”

“I've heard some drunk talk in my time but you...” Skull Man shakes his head. “You're crazy, huh?”

“I'm a god, mate,” Sweeney holds out his arms proudly, swaying on the spot.

“Sure ya are.”

“And what the fuck are you, murderer?”

“Nobody you need to know about. You ain't seen me. I don't exist. I'm just taking out the trash of this city.”

“Oh aye? Are ya? And what did he do?”

“Shot up a playground.”

“Oh...” Sweeney tails off, looking at the dead man on the floor. “Well....good then. Good work. Bastard deserved it.”

He holds out his hand and Skull Man shakes it warily. Sweeney got the sense the guy didn't interact with people much because the handshake was stilted, unsure.

“Got a name?” Sweeney asks. “Or are ya hellbent on being mysterious?”

“It's Frank,” the guy replies after a pause. “But I was-

“-Never here, I got that,” Sweeney snorts. “I'm Sweeney.”

“Sweeney the God. A'ight, go on home then. I got clean up to do.”

“Nice fightin', by the way,” Sweeney calls over his shoulder. “See ya around, Frank.”

“I fuckin' hope not,” comes the quiet response.

Sweeney didn't care though. He was too elated to care. Good booze, a good fight and the promise of going back to that sweet little diner where you were.

He'd have to come in earlier just to spend more time around you. He wanted to know everything about you and more than anything, he wanted to see your smile again.

A god he may be but your smile was absolutely magical.

He sang the whole rest of the way home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

#mad sweeney fanfic #mad sweeney x reader #mad sweeney x y/n #mad sweeney imagine #mad sweeney fic #mad sweeney series #frank castle x reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle imagine #frank castle series #frank castle fanfic #frank castle fic #mad sweeney #frank castle #american gods #the punisher #pablo schreiber #jon bernthal

53 notes · View notes

writinginthedarkwood · 5 years

Text

Tengu! Kaminari Denki x Reader

Your father owns the pub in town, you love working as a waitress until you find out that the pub isn’t doing so hot anymore. A new wealthy clan offers to buy your father out of his debt in return for one thing…

Halloween time! I love monster boys, this is in the same universe as Kitsune Todoroki, you can find that here > https://writinginthedarkwood.tumblr.com/post/188178949954/kitsune-todoroki-a-mischievous-encounter

Warnings: lemon content. Also, this is kind of long lol

“Can you get another round for that table over there Y/N?” Father called from the kitchen, it’s the dinner rush and the pub is full. People were laughing and talking loudly over each other, drinking and eating there bellies full. I looked to see where father was pointing too, the corner table by the window wasn’t eating, just having a few pints. Their glasses were getting empty, I took my notepad over with a smile. “Thank you so much for coming out today, can I get you boys another round?” I flashed them my most flirty smile, they have nicer clothes on then I’ve seen anyone else in this town wear, they could be big tippers. The shortest man in the group sat on the end with a flushed face, he laughed with a bit of drool hanging out of his mouth.

He had strange hair, it looked like some type of purple jelly substance sitting on his head. “I’ll tell you what I’d like to have a round of…” He exclaimed loudly to his friend sitting beside him. His friend laughed, also intoxicated. He was wearing a large jacket that puffed out on his elbows. “Aw come on don’t give the pretty lady a hard time!” The man said with a wide toothed smile. He put a hand on his bangs, they were black and flattened on his forehead. The shorter man turned his attention back to me and let out a sick giggle. “I’ll take another beer, and slice of that ass.” He pinched the air with his fingers like he was about to touch me. I recoiled, but tried to keep my composure. This isn’t the first time I’ve had someone make advances toward me while working but something about his skeevey eyes made my stomach churn. “Hey now!” A firm hand grabbed my shoulder and moved me out of the pathway the little man was following to reach my body. His touch left a light tingle on my collar bone. He stood between us, tall and confident. “There’s no need to be rude Minetta. We’re guests in this establishment.” He flashed me a beautiful smile. He looked different than anyone I’d ever seen travel through this area before, was he from out of town? My cheeks blushed slightly. He had yellow hair, with a black streak in it, he was unbelievably handsome, but boyish somehow at the same time. He took a seat across from the other two, next to a girl who had been quiet mostly. She was fuming, her eyebrows furrowed. “We can’t take that rat with us anywhere.” She said to me. “Everything is alright!” I said cheerily, trying to build the mood back up. “What were you all drinking tonight, I have one beer down. What else?” The yellow hair young man stared at me with a slight upturned grin. He lifted his half full mug and took another drink. “How about you bring us a pitcher of that fine ale, and we’ll pour our own drinks. That okay doll?” He tilted his head, studying my face. I tried to hide my excitement that he called me doll, what the hell Y/N get it together! I just smiled and turned to get them their drinks. My heart thudded in my chest, and I took a deep breath with my back turned to the table still. Just pour the beer with out spilling it Y/N… I filled the pitcher and went back to the table and set it down carefully. “I’ll come check on you in a little bit, if you need anything go ahead and just let me know.”

“You’ve been great, thank you sweet heart.” The blonde smiled.

I felt his eyes on me the entire rest of the night, they were the last table to stick around. My father flipped the chairs onto the tables while I wiped down the bar counter. The kitchen closed an hour ago, and the last of the beer is about dried up. Father leaned over the counter and whispered to me. “I’m worried they’re going to split on the bill…” He nodded his head towards the strange group. “Have you been keeping track of their tab?” Sweat gathered on his brow, we can’t afford to have them disappear. Father doesn’t talk often about it, but we owe a lot of money to a lot of people. Some, more scary than the others. “Yeah they’ve drank enough to pay rent this month alone.”

“Shit, why don’t you go let them know we’re closing soon.” I nodded my head and straightened out my apron. I pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear and looked at my reflection, ugh I look so messy. I know I shouldn’t care but… I approached the table with the calculated cost of their tab. “It looks like you all had a really nice night.” I said without making eye contact with the man staring holes into dress. They had enough beer to knock the best drinkers in town out cold three times, but they seemed pretty composed still. “Is it closing time already? I still want beer!” The black haired man with the big jacket whined. “We have some more to drink back home Sero, we don’t want to keep this lady up all night.” The girl spoke matter casually, but a hint of demand in her voice. She had a very cute face, and short hair in a style I’ve never seen before. She had strange earrings hanging down and touching her shoulder. “Is that the tab bar maiden?” I swallowed, my admirer stood and took the tab from my hands, his fingers gently brushing mine. The hair on my arms stood up, a light shock hit my knuckles and I squeaked, pulling my hand away. He chuckled at me. “Well would you look at that, there’s so much electricity between us.” He didn’t even flinch reading the extremely high number. He handed it back to me and pulled out a leather pouch from his pocket. He handed the entire bag to me, it jingled with coins. I gasped looking inside, it was filled to the brim with gold pieces. “You’re not from around here, are you mister?” I said completely floored. He smiled at me, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. “We’re from the east, we decided we wanted to see what these beautiful lowlands were all about.” He said a little coy, like that wasn’t the entire truth but would make the most sense to say. “Well, welcome to town.” I tried to turn quickly, my hands shaking. I’ve never seen so much gold at one time. “Could I get your name, maiden?” He asked. My heart fluttered, the way he called me maiden was so alluring, his voice dripping with charm. “Oh… I’m Y/N… my father owns this place.” He gently took my hand and planted a kiss on my fingers. “Please, called me Denki.” I nodded my head, hardly able to speak. “Ye- yes sir.” I stammered out. He smiled, liking the way he made me nervous.

The group gathered themselves and left, my father locking the door behind him. We sat behind the counter together counting today’s gold and silver. “Wow I should go to the market tomorrow and get us some fresh vegetables.” I beamed, excited. “I can make a big pot of soup for the special tomorrow.” Father ran his hand through his hair and I noticed something strange come over his face. Tears gathered in his eyes but they didn’t spill. “It’s not enough, honey.” He said choked up. “What do you mean? This is more than enough! We made so much tonight.” He shook his head no, my lungs felt tight. Please don’t tell me…

“We owe them more money.” He said sadly. “A lot more money.”

The town can be really peaceful, as long as everyone pays their debt to the “collections agents”. People have up and gone missing before, but we don’t dare say anything about it. “How is this possible? We almost had them paid off.” I felt a sob gathering in my throat. “You said that we were almost free-” He cut me off. “I know what I said!” He shouted and I took a step away from him. He never raises his voice to me. He quieted down. “I lied.” He said almost in a whisper.

A knock came at the door. My father swept the gold quickly into our lock box and hid it under the counter. “Go upstairs and don’t come down unless I tell you.” I planted my feet on the ground firmly and crossed my arms. “I’m not leaving you.” I said, a tear streaming down my face. “I said now Y/N!” He slammed a fist on the counter. Devastated I ran upstairs and threw myself on my bed like a child, and broke into cries. How could he jeopardize our lives like this? I would have gotten another job, or helped him budget in the very least!

It was very quiet downstairs. I wiped my face off, and removed my apron. I changed out of my work clothes and put on my sleep wear. A simple cotton dress that goes right to the top of my knee. I tried to freshen myself up, everything should be fine. That gold will at least hold them off for another month maybe.

Father called upstairs for me to come see him in the bar. I stepped down the stairs and didn’t hear much talking. A man in a suit sat at the bar leaning on one elbow. He didn’t smile when he saw me. “Ah, I can see why Kaminari would put this offer on the table now.” He said plainly. My father had tears streaming down his face. He looked down at the counter in shame. “What’s going on?” I asked timidly. The man looked at my father out of the corner of his eye. “Wanna tell her, or should I?” Father didn’t speak up. “Okay I will then.” He waved his hand in the air, aloof. “A good friend of our agency…” He started. “Has offered to buy this sink hole out of debt for you.” A sly grin spread across his face.

“What? Really? That’s amazing!” I cheered, clapping my hands with joy. I looked at father, he didn’t move his look away from the counter, tears welling in a little puddle under him. “What…” I thought for a moment. “What’s the catch?” I asked, my happiness dying down. “Well that’s where you come in.” He looked me up and down. “You get to decide whether you care about your family or not, right here and right now.”

I shook my head, not understanding. “Of course I love my family, what do you mean?” My stomach twisted in a knot. His sick grin grew wider. “He offered to buy your bar out of debt, under the condition you marry him. How romantic.” My jaw dropped and my face turned red in anger. “How dare you insult me like this! What kind of perv would-”

“Ah, well if you feel so strongly about this that’s no issue.” The man interrupted me. “Boy’s come on in, it’s a no go.” He shouted over his shoulder. The collections agency thugs slammed open the door. Men in large suits poured into the bar, holding various weapons. “Wait! Wait don’t…!” They grabbed father by the arm, he didn’t resist. “Who is it?” I shouted over the commotion. The man snapped his fingers and the thugs dropped father. “He’s new in town. Moved here with his family, a big group of people from out east.” My heart pounded so loud I could hear my blood pumping through my ear. “His name is Kaminari Denki. Strange fellow, ridiculously rich.” He peered at me through thin framed glasses. “They bought that mansion past the lilac fields. Built a giant ass fence around the whole thing.”

“I’ll do it.” I spit out. The man chuckled. “That was fast, alright men. Load her up!” He snapped his fingers again and the thugs grabbed me in their arms. “Wait right now?” I shouted at the man while looking at my father. “We don’t want you to try and run off, you’re worth a lot of money right now.” The men dragged me out of the bar and threw me into a buggy. I slammed my fist on the window, screaming for father. He stood in the door way biting his nails while the man in the suit held his shoulder firmly.

I sat in silence during the ride their. It felt like hours to reach the edge of town and get to the fields. It wasn’t, but time was slow. How did I get here? I was hoping to see Mister Denki again, but I never imagined it would be like this. Maybe I fell asleep after the bar closed, and this is a dream. I pinched myself and it stung a little, maybe its a dream that I can feel things? No, I know its true. I can see the iron gate closing off the road ahead, a thick mist hung low to the ground. The buggy stopped at the gate, the woman from the bar was standing behind it. She unlocked the big chain holding the gate shut and we passed through. The gate closed behind us and the door to the buggy opened. She stood there with a stoic face, she stuck out her hand to help me and I took it. I was shaking, the night air felt freezing, flowing right through the thin fabric of my night dress. She took off a fur coat and put it on my shoulders. “Come on, its not a far walk up this path.” She waved the buggy away and we stepped up the hill. “Hey.” She said after a few moments of quiet. I looked at her, she had a gentle smile on her face. “This isn’t what you think.”

“It’s not?” I said, my voice shaky coming through chattering teeth.

“No, I was going to let Denki explain everything, but we really wanted to help you.” She had taken my arm, helping me walk over rocks. I was only wearing slippers, they threatened to fall off. “Something about you really stuck out to our leader, the thought about something bad happening to you…” She hesitated, thinking about her choice of words carefully. “Let’s just say he really didn’t want something bad to happen to you.”

“Really?” I asked and she nodded her head yes.

We walked in silence a little longer before I noticed we were at the mansions front courtyard, it was like the building appeared out of nowhere. I gasped, it’s the biggest home I’ve ever seen. A large bird launched itself off of the roof, in the dark it looked too large. Almost like the size of a man. The door opened suddenly and that short man named Minetta called out. “Oh Kyoka it isn’t fair! Denki get’s all of the babes and now, the most beautiful wife ev-” Something jutted out from her hair and stabbed him in the gut. A long strand, connected to a sharp end recoiled back towards her. What kind of weapon is that? The little man held his stomach and groaned. “P-please. Come in…” He said through gritted teeth.

The furniture was all from the east, a pile of shoes sat by the door. It seemed very homey, something smelled good in here. I realized I hadn’t eaten all day, and my stomach growled. Kyoka and Minetta lead me to a dining room and sat down on the floor. The table is low, and filled with food. Kyoka made me a plate and encouraged me to eat. I’d never had food made in a traditional style from the east. I ate some of the rice, my stomach thanking me even though I feel to nervous to eat anything else. “Denki should be coming back soon, he had to stay in town on… some business.” Kyoka said. Minetta chimed in. “Yeah, how the hell did your dads bar run up such a big tab?”

Tears welled in my eyes, poor father. He never meant to borrow money, after mother died he borrowed just a bit to pay for a proper funeral. It was all downhill after that. Kyoka slapped him on the back of the head. “That’s rude, Minetta.” A voice called from behind us. The black haired man stood in the doorway, his arms were no longer hidden by a jacket. There was something bulky on his elbows, his skin bulged in a circle shape. I raised an eyebrow, trying not to stare at him too much. “Denki’s upstairs in his room. He said to send her up there to talk!” He sat down beside Kyoka. “Should I walk her up there?” She asked, setting her bowl of food down. She stood up without him answering and took my hand. She walked me down the hallway to the base of some stairs. “Just walk up here and turn down the hallway.”

I walked barefoot up the stairs slowly, my breath shaky. I can’t stop thinking about his smile, why couldn’t they have at least let me change? I feel so exposed in my dress. The door at the end of the hall was open slightly, I felt a chill of the cold night air rush across the floor and cause chills over my whole body. I held my skirt down and pushed the door open further.

The room is dark, the moon coming in through the open balcony being the only light. He was standing there in the night air, the white curtains billowing in the wind. He was shirtless, leaning against the balcony railing facing me in the doorway. The door shut behind me and I jumped. I stepped closer, something was jutting out from his back. I moved the white curtains and gasped. He had beautiful black wings, large and taking up all the space behind him. I tried to step away but froze. He yawned and stretched lazily, his wings folding behind him. “Hello Y/N, I’m glad you made it here okay.” He said sweetly. I covered my mouth with my hands. What is he? An angel? He took my hand and pulled me close to him. His chest pressing against mine, I couldn’t speak. “I know you probably have a million questions, but I have to ask you properly.” He knelt down and held my hand between us. “Please, Y/N. Be my wife, you and I were meant to be together, I just know it.” He said enthusiastically. I tried to wipe a bit of a smile off of my face, but it crept onto my cheeks anyway. “I don’t know what to say.” I mustered out. He smiled and slipped a golden band on my finger. “Then just say yes.” He smiled at me and kissed over the band. “I… yes. I’ll marry you.” My answer fell out of my mouth, surprising the both of us. He stood up and pulled me against him, wrapping his strong arms around me and kissing the top of my head. I couldn’t help but curl into him, he smelled like expensive cologne. “Well this is great!” He said breaking the silence. “Now that we’re married, I can do this.” He pulled me inside his room and spun me around. I twirled and giggled, falling into his arms. “You misspoke, we’re not married yet. We’re just engaged!” I said, my anxieties dying down. Something about him making my worries melt away for a moment. He looked at me puzzled. “Oh I guess you’re right.” He chuckled letting me out of his arms for just a second. Something wicked flashed over his face. He grabbed both of my arms and shoved me to the wall, a gasp of surprise falling out my lips, the air in my lungs rushing out as I hit the wall. He pinned both of my hands above my head and looked down at me with a sinful smile. “We have to make things official before you’re truly my wife.” He purred in my ear, giving my jaw a peck. “What are you doing?” I asked, flustered. He used his free hand to stroke my cheek and I shivered. “What does it look like I’m doing silly girl?” He pressed his hips against me, I felt his member grow hard against my naval. “I’m claiming my wife.” He whispered in my ear, sparks of electricity escaped from his lips and jolted my body. “How do you keep doing that?” I said, breathless. “I can do a lot of crazy things Y/N.” He kissed my neck, sucking gently on my skin. A breathy moan fell out of my mouth and I clamped my lips shut. He chuckled darkly. “Just let it all out love, I want to know how I can make you feel good.” He kept kissing my neck as his hand crept up my thigh, I squirmed underneath him and pressed down harder, holding me still while he explored. “Relax, I want to feel every part of your tight little body.” He pulled me off of the wall and laid me down on a thin mat on the ground. He kissed my lips for awhile, just taking his time using his tongue to explore every corner of my mouth. He smoothly slipped my night gown off of me, showing him my body. “Oh fuck, how are you so beautiful?” He slammed his mouth back onto mine and ran his fingers through my hair, pulling down harshly at the strands near the nape of my neck. I cried out and he let go. “Sorry love, I can’t help but be a little excited.” He kissed my lips softly and pulled his pants down, his staff trying to burst out of his underwear. A wet spot glimmered where the tip was, his excitement dripping out of him. My eyes widened, this was really happening. I gripped at the mat and he took the final piece of clothing off that was keeping him from being completely naked. “This might hurt a little, I’ll try and be gentle.” He said, his arousal making his voice a bit more raspy. He placed his tip on my entrance and felt around, finding the best place to insert himself. I closed my eyes and cringed. “Hey now, don’t clench up like that. You need to breathe.” He palmed a now swollen part of my body, my clit throbbed as he applied more pressure, not even toying with me. Just pressing down on on my clit with his palm and slowly moving it around. “I can make you feel really good, but you have to loosen up some.” I felt myself getting wetter, his touch not giving too much stimulation. I relaxed my shoulders onto the mat and let out a sigh. “Yeah, like that.” He rubbed himself against me, letting some of my moisture cover him. “Ah shit…” He groaned and slid himself between my lips, having to shove himself to fit. I sat up and my eyes shot open. “Denki!” I cried out, tears welling up in my eyes from the shot of pain. His breathing heaved and he pressed his chest against mine, guiding me to lie back down. “See? It’s not so bad.” He teased, nibbling on my ear lobe. He moved his hips slowly, rocking himself back and forth while we adjusted. I gripped onto his shoulders, my nails scratching him. The pain died down quickly, I started to savor the new sensations. I felt his girth grind against my walls, his pace picking up. The sound of his skin slamming against mine filled my ears and I felt my core heat up, a fire building low in my belly. I whined his name, and he moaned in my ear. “That’s it baby, moan my name.” He kissed me with heated passion, his hips still bucking into me. I gasped for air, my body releasing the built up tension in a shaking orgasm. I cried out his name again, louder than before not even worried if anyone down stairs could hear me. He bit down on the skin over my collar bone and I winced. My discomfort riling him up even more. He grinned wolfishly and grabbed both sides of my cheeks with one hand, pinching me face to look up at him. “Stare into my eyes while I cum inside you.” He slammed his hips into me a few more times as he squirted his seed. I felt him pulse as the warm liquid filled me up. He smirked after one final groan and shook his head. “Here I thought you were a dignified lady. Not a little cum slut.” He said in a mocking tone. “This was your idea!” I tried to shove him off of me and he just laughed and slammed another kiss onto me. “You’ll have to grow a bit thicker skin Y/N, sometimes I like to be rough.” He pulled himself out of me and helped me sit up.

“Come on, let’s go get us a drink to celebrate!”

Hey my requests are open! It can be Halloween related or something else!!

#kaminari denki #tengu #kaminari denki x reader #denki x reader #bnha smut #lemon bnha #monster bnha #kinktober #exophilia #denki smut #inthewoods yokai

554 notes · View notes

beyondflashpoint · 4 years

Text

Prologue 2: Homeward Bound :

“I don’t understand the detour, Todd. We could have made port directly in Gotham bay and gone directly to father. Your palaver with the addict in Steel city cost us days. Hours at best.”

Jason rolled his eyes. He could sense the kid’s unease even without glancing at him in the rearview. A slight vocalization from the passenger seat indicated that Cassie agreed with the kid.

“First, the ‘addict’ has a name. Roy is an old friend. Second, that pal-whatever got us this car, so we aren’t walking. Third, the League would be expecting us to make landfall in Gotham, and I feel like an extended ninja fight would waste more time than my plan and also draw a lot more unwanted attention. Relax Damian. We’ll have you playing catch with daddy-dearest soon enough.”

“Smart.” Cassie said from beside him, her voice low and gravely from underuse. He couldn’t be sure, but Jason thought she sounded surprised. At least she was talking now, even if it was only one or two words every few days. The constant charades made his head hurt.

Damian clicked his tongue in that annoying way he did and prepared to retort, but Jason nipped that in the bud.

“Bruce has a bunker in Blüdhaven where we can swipe some equipment and feel out the situation in Gotham. According to Roy, Lady Shiva has been spotted in G-town, and there haven’t been any killings that fit her m.o., so it’s safe to assume the League dispatched her to catch us. So caution is the word.”

Cassie shifted uncomfortably at her mother’s name. They had never been close, but they had left things especially messy, as in duel to the death, excommunication messy. Shiva would kill Cassie on sight, and Jason probably not long after. Returning Damian al’Ghul to the Demon’s side was priority one. If he had to guess, Shiva would have deployed with a full attachment, foot soldiers and four other heavy hitters. A full Demon’s Fist, as the League called it. That could be very bad for G-town. Jason was by no means eager to put on tights again, but Bruce’s uniforms offered much better protection than swiped tourist threads, and he needed all the extra time he could get to figure out exactly how this reunion was going to go.

‘Hi Bruce, I’m not dead anymore. Ras dunked me in the Lazarus Pit. Also, I kinda kidnapped your son from Talia because Ras was planning on having him kill you. Also, you have a son. In case you didn’t know. Also this is Lady Shiva’s daughter, but she’s cool. She kicks ass and has decided to leave the League. Also the League is after us.’

Bruce would have a stroke. Maybe he should lead with the son thing.

Jason merged as they approached the exit he wanted.

Come to think of it, there were probably a few of his old friends running the streets of his old stomping grounds. Probably most of them were dead or incarcerated, but one or two of them had to be out and about. He could use eyes on the streets, and slum kids saw things that even the big bad bat didn’t. He’d look into it.

Five years changed things. Roy was a big indication of that. Before Jason’s temporary vacation from the mortal coil, Roy Harper had been a Titan, and Jason’s top guy in the team. Finding out that he’d dropped the mask game had been shocking enough, but the fact that he had been hooked on H AND working out rehab really opened his eyes. Roy had stayed in touch with Dick, as an unofficial sponsor, but he’d completely cut off Olly and the rest of the Star City crew. And now he was running a garage, just a few hours out of the Haven. Jason shuddered to think how the Batfam had changed. And now that he thought about it, five years may as well be fifty on the streets, especially in the Haven.

When Bruce had taken him in, the Red Hood gang had mostly run the Haven, and the less formal Hoodz had sprung up to replace the smaller crews and cliques that permeated Blüdhaven. Time served with the Hoodz could lead to an opportunity at the big leagues with the real Red Hood Gang. That had been Jason’s plan, which had put him in the alley where the batmobile had been parked, which had made him hungry enough for the cred that would come from boosting the tires from the Bat’s whip, which had led him to getting caught by the big bad bat, yadda-yadda, Robin, mother, Clown, crowbar.

But the Hoodz had already been on their way out even back then, with the Black Mask Gang snatching turf on the outskirts. Jason couldn’t begin to imagine who was running the Haven now.

They rode in silence until Jason finally parked in the alley. The sharpness and clarity of memory had to be a result of his dip in the pit. He’d only been to this bunker once, and it had been in the frantic haze of searching for his mother, the first stop on his way out of Gotham for the last time in his old life. Now it was his last stop on his way back to Gotham for the first time in his new life. Ka is a wheel, to quote Mr Stephen King.

He shook these thoughts off as he scanned the street, making sure their entry would go unnoticed, then opened the secret panel and typed the old code into the hidden keypad. The section of wall slid back, and opened to a flight of stairs and the blessed buzz of ac.

“Alright gang, to the bat-bunker.”

He started in without waiting for a reply. Lights buzzed to life as the trio descended the steps and were deposited into the armory. According to Roy, Dick had lived here until he’d gotten on his feet after splitting from Bruce. He still used it as a backup base/crash pad, and Jason could tell from the ratty couch and scattering of clothes. But Grayson was running with Titans 3.0 at the moment, looking into the evil tech dealer called H.I.V.E. so they would have the run of the place for now.

True to fashion, though Dick’s personal possessions were a mess, the armory itself was perfectly organized and orderly. Jason could barely suppress a scoff at the tube containing one of Barbara’s spare batsuits. Vintage black and yellow. He always suspected the two were hooking up. He and Dick didn’t agree on much, but both were of one mind when it came to red heads in tights. It was a shame Roy had let himself go recently. Before he could get too lost in that thought, he realized Damian and Cassandra were both staring at him expectantly.

“Right. We have a few hours of daylight left. I don’t want to move on Gotham till nightfall. Till then, I want you two taking inventory of the gear we have available to us. While you do that, I’ll grab us some food, and scope out the situation street side.”

“If I never have to eat any more of that greasy slop you call fast food, it will be too soon.” Damian said as he made close study of a wall of weapons Grayson had no doubt thought were cool as hell.

“Now you listen here, boy. Big Belly Burger is a staple of American fine dining, and I will not have you blaspheme against it like that in my presence. Besides, you and Cassie order and eat twice as much as I do every time we stop there.”

“TT.”

Cassandra grabbed his shoulder and shared a look that said her next words would be of the utmost importance.

“Milkshake. Strawberry.” She managed without any of the usual false starts.

“Actually, since we’re in the Haven, I thought I’d treat you two to the height of fine dining. Bibbo’s Diner is only a few blocks from here, and you haven’t lived until you’ve had his chicken and waffles.”

Alarm flashed in Cassandra’s eyes, but before it could settle, Jason reassured her.

“And Bibbo’s happens to be the home of the world famous Robin shake. Strawberry, chocolate and banana. It’ll be right up your alley Cassie. And their homemade peach cobbler is out of this world.”

She looked as if she was about to argue, then considered, and acquiesced, lulled into acceptance by the promise of a new sweet treat. The poor girl had been practically made to starve as part of her training. Combined with the laundry list of other abuses she’d faced, Jason had no problem shelling out the extra cash to keep her quickly developing sweet tooth satisfied. Besides, it wasn’t really his money.

It had been quite the adventure so far, and while Bruce would halve balked at Jason’s decision to loot scumbags they’d encountered along the six month journey from Nanda Parbat, Damian and Cassandra saw the necessity of it. Jason had found his people.

“Pull that suit on under your clothes Cass, it’s Kevlar microfiber woven over a layer of high density impact gel. Might not look like it, but it can stop a bullet. There might be an old Robin suit around here somewhere. You’ll know it if you see it. That might fit Damian. Gear up, stretch out, and be ready to move as soon as I get back. If something goes down while I’m gone, find the tallest building in town and wait for me on the roof.” As he talked, he scooped up a spare utility belt from the shelves and clipped it on his waist. A cursory search rewarded him with a tank top sporting the blue bird Dick used as a logo these days (because of corse Dick fucking Grayson bought his own merch), a flannel Jason could tie around his hips to hide the belt, a Gotham Knights cap, and a wad of cash Dick no doubt kept for emergencies.

This qualified, Jason rationalized as he stuffed the bills into a pouch on his belt. Satisfied with his civilian disguise, Jason returned his focus to the duo studying the tools laid out before them. Damian had slipped a samurai sword into his belt at some point and was now testing the weight of the stylized throwing stars (Wingdings?) laid out on the shelves. Cassandra was running through forms with a pair of batons, and was mildly startled by the arc of electricity that cracked between them when she happened upon the triggers. Shock turned to awe, turned to a pleased smirk. They’d be fine for a few hours. Probably.

He tried not to think too hard about the many ways they could kill, explode, or otherwise maim each other in his absence.

They’d be fine.

It took him an hour of scoping the usual hangs to get anything useful. The Row kids had relocated to an orphanage in G-town. The Brown girl and the kid that followed her like a lost puppy were m.i.a., Rome was in Blackgate, Garcia was dead, Diego dead, Carter dead, Crock m.i.a., Philippe jail, Jessie jail, dead, jail, jail, jail, dead, dead, Morales was working the youth center after a stint in Blackgate, which was good to hear. Finally he happened upon a decent lead, almost by accident.

One of his old crew from the Hoodz days was still out and about, and running a little cluster of the Hoodz.

Jason entered the ratty apartment Sasha shared with her father Nico though the fire escape. It was just as messy as he remembered. On the table beside the couch was a glass bowl, packed but untouched. It was tempting, but Jason hadn’t gotten high since his Robin days. The siren song of the crumpled pack of full flavored cigarettes, however, was irresistible. He plucked one free and lit it as he dropped into the tattered leather recliner across from the couch where Sasha snoozed. That first draw was harsh, and started him coughing. Five years had robbed him of his experienced smoker status.

Sasha groaned groggily, stirred by his hacking and sat up slowly, blindly groping for a cig herself.

“Told you to stop snatching my smokes if you can’t handle ‘em old man.” She chastised drowsily.

“Just out of practice Sash. Haven’t had one since the last time we talked.”

It took a moment for the strange voice to register, but when it did, her hand flew under her pillow. Before it came back out, Jason freed a birdarang (wingding?) and sent the glock flying.

“Fuck!”

“Shit, Sash, you pack now? I must’a missed a lot.”

Her eyes darted from her hand, which would be bruised for the next few days, and Jason, who chanced a longer drag from the stolen cigarette and pulled off his hat. This one went down smoothly.

“Jay-bird?” She stuttered as the pieces came together. Even without the shoot of white hair and the scars crisscrossing his face, five years was a lot of growing room.

“Nah. Nah, man. You died.” He leaned over the table, plucked another cig from the pack and offered it to her. She took it and let him light it.

“Didn’t take.”

“Dude, you definitely died. Me and the crew crashed the funeral, had to cause daddy Warbucks wouldn’t let no street rats in. News said you bought it in a skiing accident in the Alps or some shit.”

“I ain’t here for that Sash. I just want some info.”

She dropped the cigarette half smoked into an open beer can, opting to wake-and-bake instead. Jason couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t often you woke up to a ghost chilling in your living room. She took a few hits and offered him the pipe and lighter.

“Another time Sash. I got shit to do.”

“Right, and you need little Sasha to tell you what’s what. But little Sasha wants some info too, Jay-bird. Like where you been for five, and why you look like rough road.”

“I got blown up, and ninja’s in the Middle East brought me back to life and taught me ninja shit. My turn. Anyone strange running jobs in the Haven, or is it all Loco shit?”

“Hold up, ninjas? The fuck man?”

“Sash.” She hesitated, then took another hit from the bowl.

“Okay. Since you been gone, the Hoodz and the Black Masks called a truce to push out the Riddler gang. Falcone’s kid made a comeback, and is trying to take the whole Haven. Masks and Hoodz are gonna push him out too. His boys mostly run the Narrows. Then there’s this new guy my dad is running supplies for. Very strange. Outsider type. Fuckin spooky. He wears a pig mask and steals kids. The Masks are scared he’s gonna bring the Bat down on us. I’m not gonna lie, I kinda hope the Bat does come for him. I only seen him once and he freaked me out. Lucky you dropped in when you did. Dad’s talking about splitting soon. He don’t like Pig-face either.”

Jason listened intently. By the time she’d finished talking, he’d finished his cigarette. Paying attention was hard in that woozy high that came from the sudden influx of nicotine, but he’d gathered what he needed. The League wasn’t moving in Blüdhaven.

“You filled out good Jay-bird. I’d almost believe you were hanging with ninjas.”

Jarred from his thoughts, Jason stood, swiping another cigarette from the pack.

“I’d get out of town if I were you Sash. And out of gang-life.” He paused and scooped up the stylized ski-mask that marked members of the Hoodz. “I’d rather not have to crash your funeral.” She watched him make his way to the window, but said nothing.

With daylight to burn, Jason began his trek back to the bunker, taking a detour by Bibbo’s to acquire the promised delicacies.

He was not prepared for what his triumphant return to the bunker brought him.

Silence hung eerily over the now dark headquarters. The space had been tidied thoroughly, Dick’s discarded clothing organized, folded, and neatly stacked. Pinned to the chair in front of the large Bat Computer doppelgänger with a batarang (wingding?) was a note written in neat, curling scrawl which Jason instantly recognized as belonging to Damian.

“Todd,

In your absence I have determined that your course of action is actually strategically sound. After overcoming the computer’s laughable attempt at security, I have ascertained that there is a criminal element operating in this city which might draw,” the word father was struck through with two neat lines, “Batman, and potentially ruin any attempt at stealth. I believe we must handle the meeting between ourselves and Batman delicately, and on our own terms. Because of this I have determined the best course of action is to deal with this so-called ‘Professor Pyg’ with haste.

Should you return before we have settled matters, and wish to join us on this mission, you may find all the relevant information pertaining to Pyg (alias to one Lazlo Valentin) by pressing the large rectangular key which reads enter. I’m sure Cain and I would benefit from your expertises in these matters.”

Jason hadn’t believed it was possible to convey sarcasm through the written word. Until today.

“Ps. If you are determined to acquire sustenance before returning, I still do not like ketchup. Mushrooms are okay. Cain requests extra fries.

Pps. In keeping with the traditions laid out in your tales of the Batman’s adventures, Cain and I have decided to wear masks. If you do decide to join us, you might not recognize us, but we have agreed not to harm you.

Sincerely,

Damian al’Ghul, Grandson of the Demon, Heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Jason crumpled the note. The Batgirl uniform was gone, as well as a reasonable chunk of the armory. He’d have to move quickly.

The decision to pursue and subdue Valentin had been mostly motivated by three things. The first he had laid out in his letter to Todd. The second he had shared with Cain, boredom. The third he would reveal to no one, on pain of death. In the years since he had regained his memory, Todd had recounted every story he knew pertaining to Batman. Those stories had motivated him to come to Gotham and meet his father, leaving behind his mother and grandfather, possibly abandoning his great destiny. Those stories had told him more about his father as a man than his mother or grandfather ever had. They painted Bruce Wayne as a titan among men, a pillar of strength and will, and a paragon of virtue and honor. In all honesty, Damian was intimidated by that man. But he was also inspired. The third reason he had decided to pursue and subdue Valentin was to feel connected with his father.

Locating “Pyg” was a simple enough matter. First he plotted out all of the kidnappings that matched Pyg’s M.O. it would seem that Batman had been keeping an eye on Pyg, because he was the chief suspect in the manufacture and distribution of a drug gangs were using to pacify prostitutes. But he’d overlooked the kidnappings. By mapping those, cross referencing places that stored or manufactured components for the drug, Damian was able to triangulate possible hideouts this Pyg could be using. Of the three possibilities, only one was currently unused, an so Damian had settled on the abandoned theme park, ignoring how horribly cliched it was.

Cain had followed Todd’s instructions and donned the Batgirl uniform, but had decided against layering civilian clothes over it. He couldn’t blame her, with the summer heat stifling as it was. Damian had opted for the League’s stealth uniform which he’d carried across half the world. Then the two had gone at the veritable armory like children in a candy shop. Few of Todd’s stories included Grayson, and those that did made him out to be asinine and annoying. But his selection of toys was impressive by all accounts. Smoke bombs, flash-bangs, teargas, plastic explosives, acetylene torches, inferred flashlights, air powered line launchers, and many of the oddly shaped throwing stars Todd had called “batarangs.” The belts which Damian had crisscrossed his chest like bandoliers were jam packed with more of these tools than Damian had imagined was possible, as well as a first-aid kit and handcuffs.

Once they were outfitted and armed, Damian led them to the car Todd had conned out of the addict. The drive to their location was in silence, both mentally preparing for whatever they might encounter along the way. They passed the location several times, marking potential hiding places, paths of retreat and places that could host an ambush.

Once Damian was satisfied he parked the car a block away and they took to the rooftops to preform reconnaissance from above. The park was dilapidated, derelict, and most likely overflowing with vermin. But for the most part it seemed structurally sound. After brief deliberation, the duo decided they were adequately prepared for whatever they may encounter, and thus began their assault.

There is an old proverb that Damian would often think back on when remembering this first act of vigilantism.

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

He thought he was ready for anything, but he was wrong.

Dick Grayson had apparently undergone a biker phase, which was good for Jason, because Roy’s car was gone. The modified superbike flew through the streets and cut between traffic like a dream. Jason had intended to return everything he’d stolen from Dick, but with every hairpin turn he grew more and more inclined to keep the bike. And maybe the jacket too. It matched the mask he’d swiped from Sash. And it was way too badass for Richard John Grayson.

He’d rushed out of the bunker with a stomach full of rage and fear, blended poorly so an acrid burn stung at the back of his throat. He imagined this was how Bruce must have felt every time he did something reckless. The dynamic dumbasses hadn’t even taken communicators with them.

He briefly wished he’d inventoried his belt before stepping out, but Dick had always been anal about his gear. So had he, now that he though about it. Bruce had drilled him on it relentlessly, having him empty and refill his belt over and over for hours until Jason knew exactly how much of what was in each pouch, and could find anything blindfolded or in the heat of battle. Thinking about it brought back the sharpened calm that came with patrols and missions. It was like the emotions were compressed and pushed back into a compartment on his brain’s utility belt. Not gone, just stored away. He twisted the throttle as far as it would go.

Once upon a time, he’d have cased the joint before getting close. Once upon a time, he’d have come from above, all stealth and shadows, and only dropped in once he had a clear vision of what was happening inside. Today he barreled through a hole in the fence at almost two hundred miles per hour with the engine screaming and fishtailed to a stop as close to the park’s rotting funhouse as he could without transforming himself into a pancake.

Kickstand dropped, and feet pounded against dry rotted wood. Jason had almost made it to the door before his ears registered the sounds of a struggle from within. He cursed his favorite curse as he filled his hand with smoke pellets and prepared to join the fray. With his free hand he pulled the line-launcher and took aim. He was topside in a heartbeat, and could practically hear the cape flutter that would have accompanied the motion in his Robin days. With practiced proficiency he located a skylight and paused to survey the scene from above.

Damian and Cass were surrounded. As if that wasn’t bad enough, their attackers were the aforementioned legion of League foot soldiers Jason had been eager to avoid. They seemed to be holding their own well enough for now, but outside their field of view Shiva was preparing to join the battle. Also moving in were the rest of the Demon’s Fist. Bronze Tiger, Cheshire, Ubu, and Mara al’Ghul. Things were well on their way to getting messy. Jason cursed again. Ubu was the meanest and the ugliest. Also the closest.

“Fuck it. Prison rules.”

He tossed the fistful I’d smoke pellets and dropped in as the cloud spread over the crowd.

Ubu was a hulking brute, and made a piss poor cushion, but he was a big enough target that Jason had no fear of missing. The sound the giant’s head made when Jason’s knee made contact with it was something like a watermelon falling off a truck at fifty, and was nostalgically comedic combined with the guttural grunt he released before flopping onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. But Jason couldn’t say if he laughed or not. All of his attention was on hurling wingdings (wingdings) into the smoke at the predicted positions of his foes. There were more than a few grunts, and a couple of clatters as weapons were dropped from struck hands. But not nearly enough, and the disorientation didn’t last long. This was League tactics, after all, and only slightly modified by Batman. Cass and Damian also got back to business, and everything was chaos once more.

Jason registered a shift in the cloud with barely enough time to dodge, and one of Shiva’s twin swords cut through the haze only millimeters from his chin. It was quickly followed by the other, this time arching towards his chest. Robin loosed a volley of wingdings in rapid succession, but the clash of metal on metal told him how effective that tactic was. Gripping one of the larger tools like a set of knuckle dusters, he advanced.

In his day the birdarangs had focused more on reducing weight than on durability, and it seemed that was still the case. Robin had only redirected a few glancing blows, and he could already feel the thing cracking. The smoke was fading quickly, and he could mostly see Shiva now. Which meant she could see him too. After blocking yet another strike which came way to close to opening his throat Robin stepped back and loosed one of the explosive discs that had been his favorites. Shiva was an expert, and had her swords prepared to swat it aside when it detonated, and the small explosion sent her blades flying.

Pressing the advantage Robin moved in. Hand-to-hand odds not in his favor either. Better than unarmed against swords. No cape to distract or disorient. Fight dirty.

Dodge high, block low. Opening when she kicks high, knock her off her feet.

It was alarming how quickly he fell back into his training. Batman had taught him a lot, and years of street fights had taught him more. Then there was his time playing amnesiac with the League. Jason winning.

Shiva was on her feet again before anything more than her shoulders touched the ground, and at some point she’d regained her swords, but Jason was ready, and before she realized what was happening, he clapped her ears. The pressure of the strike would have been disorienting on its own, but coupled with the detonation of the micro-flash-bangs cupped in Jason’s hands, Shiva crumpled like a rag doll.

The cloud had completely dissolved now, and Jason easily dodged the sai Cheshire flung at him. Of course this put him in excellent position to catch Bronze Tiger’s shin with his whole stomach. Breathless and airborne, he could do nothing about the pinwheel kick Cheshire dropped on his rib cage. The familiar crunch told him that two were cracked before the pain started up.

Jason landed hard, and Cheshire straddled his waist the second he had. Her other sai raised in both hands, prepared to fall into his throat.

“Enough.”

Silence fell in place of the killing blow. Cheshire looks to her left and Jason followed suit.

The few League grunts that remained standing parted as Talia al’Ghul strode across the battle field to Damian, who still held his blade in a ready position with eyes glued to his cousin. She hadn’t lowered her weapons either. The two had been bitter rivals from the day they’d met.

“Mother.” Damian said with all the tenderness of a freezer burned pork chop.

Without another word she dropped to her knees and embraced him.

After a brief awkward silence, she turned his face towards hers.“What is the reason for this foolishness, son?”

Damian freed himself from her grip. “Is it foolish for a boy to seek his father?”

Talia clicked her tongue in the same fashion that Damian was so fond of, and rose to her feet.

“I would have taken you to meet him in time, Damian. When I decided you were ready.”

“Taken me to kill him. Todd told me everything.” Talia turned her gaze to Jason, who waved awkwardly.

“Let him up, Cheshire.” The masked assassin complied quickly, and even gave Jason a hand standing.

“So this was your doing Ibn al Xu’ffasch?”

‘Son of the Bat.’ The name they had given him at the dawn of his second life. Jason pulled off the mask which was apparently doing him no good, and shrugged.

“Tt” Talia turned her attention to Cassandra, who had frozen in place with her baton less than an inch from a grunt’s nose. There was a circle of (probably) unconscious goons at her feet.

“I’d suspected you’d finally had your fill of your mother’s poor treatment and taken the boys hostage.” She turned back to Jason. “When did you regain your memory?”

“Midway through my second year with you all.” Talia nodded as if she’d expected as much, then turned back to Damian.

“I assume that you are serious about meeting your father, yes? Even if I were to drag you back, you’d simply escape again, isn’t that right?”

“Yes mother.” Talia nodded again. Then produced a sealed envelope from within her jumpsuit.

“I expected as much you are at that age where you think you know everything. This letter will explain everything. Deliver it directly to your father, and no one else. Understand?” Damian took the envelope cautiously, as if expecting it to bite him. Once he had it in hand she knelt again, placing her hands on his shoulders tenderly. “I would never send you to kill your father. Nor you Ibn al Xu’ffasch. My father would do no such thing either.”

“But Todd said-“

“Do not misunderstand me, I do not claim Ibn al Xu’ffasch lied. There are those within the League that believe Ras al’Ghul has been too long the Demon’s Head. There are whispers of a coupe. I do not doubt such plans involve removing my beloved from play. I intended to see you in his care soon enough.” She turned to look over the assassins. “We return to Nanda Parbat. None shall further impede these three, by my word, or face my wrath. My will is the Demon’s will.”

The assassins snapped as one into a bow, and set about gathering the wounded. She moved through the crowd to stand in front of Jason and cupped his face, smiling gently.

“Father swore to make no move on Gotham for as long as my beloved draws breath. He made this oath before the whole of the League of Assassins, and forbade any of them to move on Gotham in his name, on pain of death. This was his penance for your death. His sole intent was to return the son he’d taken from my beloved.”

“Uh, okay?”

“I have enjoyed having you in my home Ibn al Xu’ffasch. You have been as a brother to my son, and a son to me. Look after him, Ibn, for he is too much like his father for his own good.”

“If he’s anything like Bruce, I won’t have to.” Talia chuckled, pat his shoulder, and turned to Cassandra, who seemed to materialize at Jason’s side.

“Cassandra, you are welcome to return with us. You have my word that you will have no trouble.” Cass shook her head.

“They die without me.” She said, patting Jason’s shoulder. His jaw dropped, he’d never heard Cass say so much at one time. Talia had never heard her speak period, but to her credit she only cocked an eyebrow.

“Quite.” She said then returned to Damian.

“When all is well once more, I will send for you, my son. Learn what you can from your father. He is a great man.” Damian nodded, and Talia only lingered for a moment before following the last of the assassins out of the building.

The trio stood in silence for a time, until Jason realized they were waiting for him to tell them what to do next.

“Well. That was fun. Who wants soggy chicken and waffles?” Damian narrowed his eyes, but Cass’s hand shot up. “What? So I picked up food. I wasn’t expecting you two to run off for some daring-do and stumble into an obvious trap.” Damian’s eyes narrowed further. “Okay, after we eat we’ll go straight to the Batcave, no detours, no shenanigans, scouts honor.”

Damian rolled his eyes and started for the exit. “I’ll drive.” He stated as Jason and Cass fell in behind him.

“My turn.” Cass retorted.

“Do you even know how?” Damian probed, eyeing her doubtfully.

“You’re mighty talkative today Cass.” Jason quipped. Cassandra replied by sticking her tongue out. He understood her good mood. Their six month misadventure was almost over. As they stepped out into the summer night Jason looked to the sky, and pulled the pair to a stop. From this side of Blüdhaven you could see it clearly enough. For the first time in five years Jason looked up at the Bat-Signal, and pointed it out to the others.

He couldn’t hold back the smile brought on by the wonder he saw in his companion’s faces.

Homeward bound.

-END

Author’s Notes: this chapter is long, and maybe a bit rambling, but mostly because there’s room for two whole multichapter fics in here. Seriously, I was half tempted to start writing a Damian Cass and Jason cross country road trip full of shenanigans and hilarity. For those wondering, this takes place five years after prologue 1. It took me longer than I thought it would to edit, between baking cheesecake, doing some bag work, and feeling out crafting with worbla. That being said, the next prologue will take even longer (unfortunately(?)) because I want to make sure my events make sense and everything is lined up perfectly and ready for the series proper to begin immediately after.

Feel free to comment, complain, keysmash, or just like and reblog. I THRIVE on your reactions.

Till next time!

38 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Level Up, Chapter Two (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to while all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

AN: Hello hello hello Christine, thank you all SO much for all the kind words about the first chapter. I’m so happy that you guys like it so far. Chapter two time, hope you enjoy.

Thank you times a million to writ for both betaing and being the best support system ever, I love you <3

“The bills-”

“Don’t say it-”

“The bills for the month are here.”

Brooke groans when Kameron hands her the envelopes, monthly reminders of the fact that the costs never end, that they’re scraping to keep the gym afloat. Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, the pipes aren’t supposed to fall apart and the windows aren’t supposed to need replacement and Brooke needs to keep the place alive.

Kameron lifts herself up onto the counter, giving Brooke the look that she always does when she wants to talk. “I know you don’t want to, but it may not be a bad idea to-”

“No.” Brooke doesn’t need Kameron to finish her sentence to know what she’s about to suggest. But she can’t do it.

“Imagine not just the money, but the publicity for the gym-”

“Absolutely not.” Brooke’s voice is flat, and it feels as if it’s reflecting the way she feels inside, the sudden blankness that never fails to overtake her when it comes to thinking about these scenarios. “I’m never competing again. You know that.”

“D’you really think he’d want that for you?” Kameron’s question makes Brooke wince because it’s a low blow, one she doesn’t really want to think about.

“Fuck off, Kam. Don’t you have a class to teach?”

Kameron raises an eyebrow. “It isn’t for another forty five minutes. You ever pay attention to the schedule?”

“I’m not one of the instructors.”

“Which is a shame, y’know. You’d be good at it.” Kameron hops off the counter, resting her face against her palm, and Brooke hums noncommittally, shrugging.

“Managing the administrative piece is enough for me.”

It’s strange, to Brooke, the way that her relationship with boxing has shifted. How one small little event has changed the course of her trajectory, of what she’d been planning on doing with her life. But taking a backseat, solely running the gym, is safe. It’s less of a reminder of what had happened even if she’s in this building every day, even if she’s reminded of her dad by every picture on the wall, each trophy on the shelves.

Kameron’s words replay in her brain as she sits at her desk, figures out the payroll. She could easily hire someone and go back to fighting, to competitions - Kameron’s not wrong about the fact that it’ll bring in more money, more publicity, that the mere presence of her last name alone will be enough to boost talk about her. Maybe then she’d be able to give some badly needed upgrades to the gym, replace the broken mirror on the far wall or maybe get some new punching bags that don’t hold thirty years of practice and sweat. She wouldn’t have to worry about finances every month, about keeping the doors of the gym open-

But Brooke can’t.

She can’t.

She sighs, rubbing her eyes before glancing up at the clock on the wall. The giant poster of her dad that hangs underneath it stares right back at her, and it’s hard, really, to try and ignore his influence when he’s quite literally imposing it on her the same way he did when he had been alive.

What would her dad do, in a situation like this?

The answer comes easily to Brooke. He’d go back to fighting - in fact, he’d never leave, he’d participate in more and more matches the way he always would and then-

Well, Brooke knows the rest well enough. She’s not going to let that happen to her.

Besides, the gym’s going to survive solely because her dad’s eventually going to come back as a ghost and keep the doors from ever closing. Brooke wouldn’t be surprised by it in the least.

She closes the open tabs one by one once she’s done her work, shutting the computer monitor off and leaning back in her chair with a sigh. Her brain feels like a jumble of numbers that she knows she’s going to have to go over at a later time, to make sure she hasn’t missed any mistakes. The ache in her neck and upper back from sitting at the desk the entire day doesn’t fade as she reaches back to massage her shoulders and roll out her neck. She’s not one for being sedentary all day, no matter how much she tries to convince herself of the fact to get through the workload.

But one good part of owning a gym? She can peel herself out of her desk chair and leave her office, shaking off the cobwebs that are surely beginning to weave themselves onto her shoulders. And since Brooke has no qualms about coming to work in athleisure, she can get herself moving and sweating before she even has time to think about it.

It gives her the chance to clear her head, take one of the bags hanging in the back of the gym and just turn her brain off. Practicing her old drills against the heavy punching bag, getting the chance to relish in the recoil as it swings against the chains suspending it from the ceiling checks off an imaginary tick box in her brain, gives her a sense of satisfaction that not much else can. It allows her to give into the muscle memory that’s deeply rooted into her brain and almost feels like an instinct, an ingrained habit.

She doesn’t have to worry about money, or about how she’s going to keep the gym going, or about how her mom really thinks ‘you should try talking to someone, honey,’ or the fact that she still needs to get her car’s oil changed. None of it matters anymore, not when the adrenaline in her system is stronger than the impact of her knuckles against the bag, and the feeling of sweat dripping down her back.

If Brooke punches hard enough, it all goes away. If she hits a combination the way she’s supposed to, she can almost hear her dad on the other side of the punching bag telling her to do it again. She can go back to being in his shadow, still growing, still learning in anticipation of what’s to come. She doesn’t have to carry all of the responsibilities anymore.

But then comes the part when Brooke pulls off her gloves and wipes the sweat that’s dripping from her forehead, unraveling the wraps around her hands to reveal her calloused knuckles. The adrenaline coursing through her body that keeps her from feeling any pain starts to fade as she takes a few breaths, catches herself, only to feel less stable than before.

It’s hard, trying to soothe over a wound with the very instrument that caused it in the first place. It hasn’t worked for Brooke yet, though it doesn’t stop her from trying.

“Rob! Stop smacking lips with Alexis and come outside already! You said you’d practice with me!”

“Vanj, I’m gonna lock you outta this apartment if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

Alexis’ growl isn’t enough to deter Vanessa, not when Rob’s at their place to practice drills with her and not to make out with his girlfriend, despite Alexis trying her best to distract him enough to do so.

Vanessa snickers when Alexis and Rob reluctantly detach from one another. “This is your fault, Al, y’know. If you and Rob didn’t force me to take boxing classes I woulda never gotten into it and never wanted to get better and practice more-”

Alexis rolls her eyes. “And now you’re Rocky Balboa, we get it. If you get to take Rob outside will you shut up now?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Rob’s grinning as the two of them make their way down to the alleyway beside the apartment complex, an area that has proven to be an ample practice space over the last few weeks. “Now tell me. How much of this is you actually wanting to practice drills, and how much of it is you wanting to annoy the shit out of your sister?”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Rob before swiping at his gloves, ducking when he swipes back. “Guilty. Though it’s a shit ton of fun, and I wanna get better for real. How else will I whoop the asses of everyone else in the class?”

“Is that your motivation for everything in life?” Rob grunts when Vanessa puts a little bit more power into her jabs, watching as he recoils back slightly. “Is it because you’re the shortest and have something to prove-ow!”

Vanessa scowls before landing another combination against Rob’s gloves. “You deserved that one.”

But Rob’s right - maybe Vanessa does have something to prove. Not necessarily to the other girls in the class, but more to herself. She’s found something that she enjoys, something that she wants to work on. Something that’s made her punches at least 30 percent more effective. Boxing has made her want to go straight to the gym after work, rather than spend all her money at the bar while fruitlessly scrolling through tinder and feeling her twenties slip away from her in a haze of mediocrity.

Maybe the sensation of becoming quicker on her feet, of being able to execute combinations that she’s never been able to do before, is making her drive grow more and more. Vanessa feels like she’s climbing more than she’s able to do in her job, experiencing a sense of growth that’s bigger than the tiny apartment that her and Alexis share so that they can afford the rent. It’s the feeling of accomplishment when everything else in her life feels like it’s at a standstill.

Well, a feeling of accomplishment in everything except one area of boxing.

“These stupid fucking wraps…” Vanessa grumbles to herself when the fabric unravels on her hand just as she’s about to pin it down, letting out a sigh before wrapping the cloth again.

It’s been almost a month of boxing, and Vanessa still can never get the wraps to sit properly on her hands. They always shift and loosen underneath her gloves, feeling like more of a nuisance than any sort of protection. She needs to get Monet or Monique to show her exactly how to wrap them one of these days, before she does something stupid like throwing them out.

“They make ones with velcro, y’know.”

Vanessa snaps her head up and Brooke is sitting down across from her, leaning against the wall of lockers while looking like more of a model than anyone has the right to when all sweaty. Brooke raises an eyebrow, gestures to Vanessa’s failed attempt at her wrap. “Let me.”

“I can do it myself.” Vanessa doesn’t need help; sure she’s a beginner, but she can do it-

“I know.”

Brooke’s pulling Vanessa’s hands onto her lap and Vanessa’s brain doesn’t have any protests left anymore, not when Brooke’s deftly wrapping the fabric around her hands with a touch that’s firm but gentle. Brooke’s fingers glide over the fabric as she presses it down, smoothing it to Vanessa’s skin to protect her knuckles and palms from the impact that they’ll take once she’s out of the change room.

Brooke’s face is calm as she works, a slight furrow in her brow as she pins the edge of the wrap on one hand to keep it steady. She grabs Vanessa’s other hand and repeats the process, until both of Vanessa’s hands are snug and protected and she’s not quite sure if she wants Brooke to let go of them anymore.

“There. Done.”

Vanessa can feel the way her breath hitches in her chest, even through the normal action of trying to bring air into her lungs. Brooke gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and Vanessa brings them back onto her own lap while trying to maintain an air of suaveness that she’s not sure is truly believable.

“Thanks.”

It comes out more sheepish than Vanessa intends it to, but it’s hard to come up with words when Brooke’s looking at her like that, the knowing half smile on her face that somehow knows too much even though Vanessa’s barely said anything.

Brooke grins. “Anytime. Now, don’t you have a class to get to?”

It’s enough to break the imaginary ice because Vanessa rolls her eyes when Brooke cracks up, and suddenly it’s not hard to feel at ease with someone who laughs at her own jokes. She doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s eyes linger on her when she reaches the locker room door, turning back one last time.

“If I’m late, I’m telling Kameron it’s your fault.”

Brooke swings out of her office when Kameron gets her class started on their practice drills. The administration work can wait, because it’s more fun to watch the way the students attempt to bonk each other with the gloves that still are an unfamiliar armour around their fists.

“Monique and Monet haven’t argued yet about who throws a better punch, so I’m considering it a win.” Kameron points to the two girls in the back, and Brooke leans against the wall beside her, tilts her head as she watches.

“These guys a good group?”

“Good as any beginner class.” Kameron shrugs. “They’ve all paid their registration fees and that alone makes them gold.”

Brooke ignores Kameron’s words, the ones that keep reminding her of the way the gym is teetering on a financial cliff that she doesn’t quite want to think about. “Tell me about her.”

Brooke knows that Kameron doesn’t even have to follow Brooke’s gaze to see that she’s talking about Vanessa. Really, how could she not, when Vanessa’s holding her gloves up to her face like it’s her job, just a tad too close but enough for Brooke to see that she’s been paying attention and practicing in class? Vanessa’s eyes are laser focused, narrowed as she hits up against her partner’s gloves and there’s just something about her that Brooke can’t pull away from, a magnetic force that she doesn’t quite understand just yet.

But it’s no matter. Brooke just likes how spunky, how unapologetic she is - someone refreshing enough not to walk on eggshells around her, to not be intimidated by her. Sure, maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t know her history or that of the gym but it’s…nice. To meet someone who volleys comebacks at her like it’s second nature.

Vanessa throws a punch at the girl she’s partnered with, who lifts her gloves a second too late and ends up taking the hit. Vanessa lets out a woo , both hands up in the air, before going close to the girl, putting a glove on her shoulder (‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you okay?’).

“Hello? Did you listen to anything I just said?” Kameron’s waving her hand in front of Brooke’s face and it makes her jump, pulling her attention away from Vanessa.

“What?” Brooke blinks, running a hand through her hair and trying not to let her gaze shift back to the way Vanessa’s already sparring again. “Repeat that.”

Kameron snorts. “You’re already smitten, aren’t you? She is your type, after all.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. She doesn’t have a type. Not that she dates much, anyway. “What’s my type?”

“Girls who make you this googly eyed, that’s what. A rare find.” Kameron snickers, nudging her shoulder.

“Shut up.” Brooke rolls her eyes. “She’s just fun to watch.”

“And that’s not a creepy thing to say at all.”

Brooke sticks her tongue out at Kameron, who looks a little too proud of herself. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class right now?”

“See, I would be, if there wasn’t someone distracting me with conversation right at this very moment.” Kameron gives Brooke a little wave before going back to the class, already yelling about the next drills she wants them to practice.

Vanessa’s mimicking the moves Kameron does as she demonstrates for the class, as if trying to commit them to memory, and Brooke has to hold back a smile. The sight reminds Brooke of when she was younger, so eager and willing to learn and just wanting to be better. And honestly, after all the gym has been through, and as weary Brooke has gotten over the years? It’s refreshing.

Kameron yells at the class to try the drills out on their own and Vanessa’s already bouncing in place, ready to go. Brooke watches as her eyes flit around before landing on hers, and doesn’t miss the way Vanessa pauses, a hitch in her step. Vanessa doesn’t pull her eyes away, tilts her head slightly as if in question, and Brooke can’t help but wink back. Especially when it makes Vanessa nearly miss the jab that her drill partner throws in her direction.

Oops.

Brooke heads back to her office, because she really does need to call the electrician to fix the thermostats and she has to organize the schedule for next month’s classes, even though watching the beginner group get used to their boxing gloves is more entertaining than she wants to admit. The administrative part of owning a gym is menial - tasks that turn her brain off, ones that she could probably hire someone to do, but…she doesn’t mind them. It’s nice, having control over the little aspects of the gym. Making sure everything is running as it should be.

She’s absorbed in the excel spreadsheet in front of her and doesn’t even notice Vanessa in the doorway until there’s a knock on her desk that makes her jump. Vanessa sits down across from her, gloves slung across her shoulder but knuckles still wrapped, 5he light beads of sweat along her forehead and cheekbones and the way she’s still out of breath betraying the fact that the class has just ended. Vanessa slouches in the chair, lifting her leg onto her seat and Brooke can’t help but lean forward.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to check out your digs.” Vanessa’s eyes trail along the pictures on the wall, the awards that line the shelves and she whistles. “Damn. You win all these?”

Brooke snorts. “No. Some of them. Definitely not all of them.”

Truth is, Brooke hasn’t known what to do with her dad’s old trophies and newspaper clippings and memorabilia. She can’t just throw it all away, because it would be wrong somehow and her dad would probably turn over in his grave and as much as it hurts to see…it wouldn’t be right to let it go. But having it all around her isn’t much better, she knows that. It’s become a mosaic of reminders of events that she wants to forget, banish from her mind even though it would feel sacrilegious to do so.

So she just ignores all of it, pretending that it isn’t there. Even though it’s hard to do when Vanessa’s craning her neck up, pointing at the pictures that decorate the surfaces like wallpaper.

“No way. Is that you? Six year old you had abs? What the fuck?” Vanessa’s out of her seat, squinting to read the caption on a picture from a newspaper article.

Brooke remembers when the picture had been taken. She had been competing in a tournament, one that her dad had coached her in and when she’d won, the reporters had wanted a picture of the two of them together. To show off the family legacy, as one would. Her dad had hoisted her on his shoulders and Brooke remembers the way she had felt a million feet tall. Unstoppable. Like all the matches she would ever have would be hers to win, and that she never ever wanted to stop fighting, not when the feeling of winning was so satisfying.

She wonders what six year old Brooke would think of her now.

“You were cute as fuck.” Vanessa makes a little pouting face and Brooke can’t help but grin, roll her eyes.

“Was, huh?”

“Don’t you go fishing for compliments, I see you.” Vanessa wiggles a finger at her and sits back down, leaning her elbows on Brooke’s desk. “Now what you up to here in this little office dungeon of yours?”

“It’s not a dungeon. It has plenty of natural light. Sort of.” Brooke can’t help but try to defend the place, even though Vanessa is right. It is a little bit bleak. “Working on administrative stuff. Not quite that exciting.”

“You’re telling me this stuff is more fun than being out there, beating up a punching bag or two?” Vanessa makes a face as she looks at her, and Brooke shrugs.

“Nah. But I have to do it. So I do.”

Vanessa blinks. “Man, my ADHD ass is hella jealous that you can just do things. You ain’t gotta argue with your brain for an hour about it first?”

“Sometimes, when it comes to the financial stuff. The math always gets me.” Thank goodness they hire an accountant when it comes to taxes.

“Amen to that.”

Vanessa leans back in her chair and Brooke closes the window on her computer, gathers all the papers on her desk because she’s not going to get much done anyway, not with Vanessa here. Instead, she turns her attention back to the girl in front of her. “So, how’s that beginner class treating you? Is boxing everything you thought it would be?”

The way Vanessa’s face lights up is almost cute, as is the way she sits up in her seat. “It’s fun as hell. How’d I not know y’all were hiding this gym from me until recently?”

“Hiding, huh?”

“Anyway,” Vanessa airily waves a hand, “I like it. I wanna take more but there’s only two beginner classes a week. How am I supposed to get better with just two?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. Vanessa wants to take more? She’s already seen her around when they have open gym nights, and it’s true, Vanessa hasn’t really missed a beginner class since she’s started. Huh.

“Why are you sticking to beginner classes? Don’t think you can handle an intermediate one?”

Vanessa’s reaction is exactly what Brooke anticipates it to be. “Can’t handle-bitch, I’ll show you handling.” Vanessa lets out a grumble as she crosses her arms, and Brooke has to hold back a laugh.

“Try one. I think you’ll be able to hold your own.”

Vanessa can’t stop herself from following Brooke’s advice. She starts attending the intermediate classes, spars with girls who have been taking boxing for years and yes, sometimes she gets her ass kicked when they catch her off guard or are too fast, but-

There’s times where she doesn’t. Times where she’s able to execute a combination perfectly, times where she’s able to get a win or two or three and the feeling is absolutely addictive. Winning. Having Kameron look at her with an impressed expression and having her opponents give her reluctant nods.

She notices the way her arms and legs get firmer to the touch, the way the faintest hint of abs begin to peek underneath the soft layer of her shirt. The way braiding her hair back takes less than thirty seconds now, because the faster she’s able to do so, the faster she can get out on the floor.

Silky and A’keria notice one early morning, when they’re in front of the floor to ceiling mirrors at a shoot that’s going to be paying them well. Vanessa’s trying to focus, she really is, on the strange combination of purple and green that she’s supposed to follow for the model’s makeup, despite the fact that it’s a little too reminiscent of Barney. She rolls her neck once she finishes the model’s cut crease, stretching her arms up to loosen the way her muscles have tensed.

Silky makes eye contact with her as she does, letting out a little whistle. “Damn, Vanj. Since when are you ripped as fuck?”

“What?” Vanessa’s brows furrow until Silky points at her shirt, which has slightly risen up from stretching her arms. She tugs it back down, her cheeks reddening, and busies herself with blending her model’s shadow and hoping she hasn’t noticed.

“It’s cause you always be at that gym.” A’keria tuts, waving her mascara wand. “You ain’t even coming out with us these days.”

“Hey! I came out last Friday.” Vanessa protests, because it’s true. She did. So maybe she went home by 10:30 so that she could get enough sleep before going to open gym hours the next morning, but that’s beside the point. “You guys should try it. You’d like boxing, too. I feel so good these days.”

Vanessa really does. Like Yoda, or some shit. All that she wants to do is go to the gym and train and maybe it’s a bit of a shift from how she’d been about six or so months ago, but it’s fun. Maybe A’keria and Silky would enjoy it, too.”

Except Silky just gives her a look. “You think my ass would ever willingly go in there? What I enjoy personally is going to my couch and watching 90 Day Fiance. ‘Cause I have taste.”

“I prefer my yoga, sorry Vanj.” A’keria shrugs. “That being said, your ass is definitely calmer. You haven’t lost your shit at anyone in ages.”

Vanessa pauses. While A’keria’s statement isn’t exactly true, since she’d gotten into an argument with Alexis this morning about their shared conditioner in the shower, the fact that her ass hasn’t had to be bailed out from the local station in a while is…nice. Even if Rob’s usually the one that books her after one too many bar fights.

“Does boxing teach you to talk about your feelings?” Silky snickers as she sprays setting spray across her client’s face, and Vanessa scowls.

“Want me to break my streak, Silk?”

“Geez, relax.” Silky sticks her tongue out at her. “Big Silk is proud of you for it, y’know.”

“Hmph.” Vanessa tries not to smile as she turns her attention back to her model. “Whatever.”

It’s something that sticks in Vanessa’s mind as her workday ends though, as she grabs her gym bag and heads out for the evening. It’s not that she doesn’t feel as strongly as she used to, because she definitely does. Sometimes things get so overwhelming that all she wants to do is snap and let out the extra energy that feels like it’s building and building and building but…she can’t do it when she fights in the gym. She has to hold back, only throw a punch when necessary and be strategic about it for the strongest impact. And it feels like that strategy has shifted over to other parts of her life, too.

It isn’t her first instinct anymore just to go off on someone. She’s better at holding back, at waiting even when she wants to burst, and she supposes that it isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Maybe Alexis had been onto something all those months ago.

The change room is rowdy when Vanessa finally reaches the gym, changing into her sports bra and leggings like it’s second nature. Monet and Monique are spread out on the ground, lying across from one another and attempting to arm wrestle, and Vanessa shoots a questioning look to Asia, who only shrugs.

“What can I even say at this point?” Asia grabs her water bottle, heads out the door. “See you out there, Vanj.”

Vanessa braids her hair to the sounds of Monet and Monique arguing about arm wrestling techniques and she’s glad, really, that her friends have moved up to take the intermediate classes, too. It makes it fun, and even more so satisfying when she beats one of them while sparring.

It’s nice. Vanessa’s steadily gaining a community around her, and it’s one that she doesn’t want to lose anytime soon.

Kameron’s face is excited when the class comes to an end, when gloves are coming off and water bottles are being picked up for some much needed swigs. Vanessa watches as she grabs a flyer, holding it up for the class to see like a flag.

“You guys think you can hold your own against a bunch of bitches who aren’t from this gym?” Kameron cocks her head, her eyes trailing across the group.

Vanessa can’t help the way she stands on her tiptoes, trying her best to take a peek at the flyer. She’s a bit too far back and is about to poke Monet’s side to ask her to read it out loud, but there’s no need, because Kameron’s voice echoes across the gym before she even has to.

“We’re joining a tournament. Or rather, you guys are. Not much at stake except the entire reputation of our gym and it’s extensive legacy. That’s all.” Kameron snickers, before shaking her head. “I’m playing. But signup sheets are going to be posted on the change room doors for a week, so think about it if you’re interested.”

Vanessa tries her best not to fidget much until the class is over and they’re given the okay to head for the change rooms, and then she can’t hold herself back anymore from wrapping her arms around Monet and Monique’s shoulders.

“So are you guys gonna do it?” Vanessa undoes her wraps, wiggles her fingers, and even though she’s just sparred for an hour and a half, she feels more energetic than ever.

A tournament. Not just sparring in class with her friends, but a real boxing tournament.

“What, the competition?” Asia hums noncommittally, shrugging. “Thinking about it.”

“Come on! It sounds so fun.” Monique sits down beside Vanessa, sticks her leg out to trip Monet as she walks by, and the resulting explosion of swear words from Monet makes Vanessa crack up.

“I’m saying!” Vanessa nods. “We could go and fuck some shit up with people from other gyms.”

“What makes you think that it’s going to be your ass doing the beating, and not getting beat?” Monet snickers, and Vanessa gives her a look.

“Are you forgetting I just won a match against you twenty minutes ago? That memory of yours really has turned to shit with that many hits to the head.” Vanessa volleys back, and Asia and Monique let out twin cackles.

Vanessa’s mind is made up as she catches the subway home, the ache in her muscles from the class not nearly strong enough to dull the possibilities and excitement already beginning to grow in her brain. Sure, she’s never boxed in a competition setting, but why not?

Maybe Brooke will be there to watch the tournament, too.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #lesbian au #boxing au #level up #holtzmanns

12 notes · View notes

technicolordeams · 4 years

Text

So some things happened this past week since I wrote my last entry and I'm rethinking my stance on leaving or not. I was able to talk to the one girl who is befriending me and my pastor had a long talk about what makes me me and what I struggle with. I followed what my therapist told me to be which was to be more assertive. I felt very awkward and scared to do it but if I didn't, I'd end up right back where I was feeling anger and abandonment. So for now, I'm still on hold on what to choose to do.

But a couple other things popped up. Not too big but unsettling. My mind just blanked on one of them so I'll just type about the one that's stuck out the most to me right now since it happened literally within the past hour.

So obviously I have problems eating enough to keep my weight stable, let alone gain any without a LOT of work. I've been struggling with it since my gallbladder decided to take a shit on me and demand to be removed which happened on my birthday. During that time I started getting suicidal again and I hadn't dealt with those intense emotions regarding it in several years. But since December it decided to rear it's ugly head and bite into me as hard as it could ever since. It's been 8 months now with very little improvement. And during that time span my health has tanked. I developed breathing problems after my surgery which was horrific enough as it was (imagine not being fully awake but aware that you are out of control of your body and unable to utilize your coping techniques. Just like having a massive panic attack like seizure feeling but you are barely able to be aware of anything besides the viceral fear and blackness because I couldn't wake up. Just... Out of control. And you have no idea how long you were in that state before the nurse could sort of pull you out of it and even communicate more than like two words and slowly peek my eyes open a fraction. Yeah, that's what happened. I had major fear over that for at least a month. Sleeping was hard enough from the surgery and adding in that... Yeah no.) Anyways, since that started up and obviously after surgery it's hard to eat and stuff like that normally. But after the surgery I was (am) having breathing problems. I would have endless coughing fits that would even hit me and make me unable to take a full breath without coughing horribly whatever air I could get right back out. It also made me almost throw up several times (which is my biggest phobia that triggered my eating disorder to go out of control and send me into hospital stays and feeding tube hell). So at least I lost 10lbs since the surgery or even before that. I creep closer to 15lbs though most likely. I haven't been keeping track of it very much because of how much distress I've been dealing with. And I've been dealing with A LOT. Things I wonder if I will be able to get up from without more intense medical help that I probably can't get because of covid.

I've gone through several tests to see why I'm having coughing fits and every answer is that they don't see anything wrong. Well, the ENT appointment I went to the day before I went to see the pulmonary doctor really screwed me over tbh. The ENT doctor gave me steroids that day that I took that same night and told me that the pulls wouldn't affect the asthma test they were going to perform next day. It did. So I had to wait like two months before I could go back and be re-tested. But then covid hit and those practices have been closed ever since. So I can't get an accurate reading on what's going on. They did spot that I had some breathing abnormalities but because of the steroids, they couldn't say for sure. Mind you I had to literally book these doctor appointments and tell my dad you have to take me to these because he didn't think it was that important. Which has pretty much been like everything doctor related that has come up this past year. Just had to put my foot down and tell him I NEED to go to these and I'll be going whether you agree with me or not. Which adds to the distressed feeling and like I'm overreacting and being too paranoid or some shit. Also because I couldn't get actually tested for asthma properly, my regular doctor had to prescribe me with an inhaler but insurance won't help because I have not been diagnosed with it. So I had to cough up (almost literally) over a $100 for medicine that we don't know is right for me or not or whatever.. so that's like $60 every two months? Idk. Which is a lot considering I have a bunch of other bills to pay which includes when I got my wisdom teeth removed (ALL FIVEEE because I'm that extra) which cost $3,000. I have to pay my mom back for another at least year? I don't even know anymore at this point.

I've also been dealing with vision blackouts recently where I almost pass out when I get up here and there. My blood pressure tanked and went to like 70/52 and pulse all over the place. That's better now at least. Chronic fatigue, dehydration, can't sleep very well... Etc. Vitamin D and B12 are on the lower side of the normal range and my body isn't producing enough carbon dioxide.

Now along with all of this bag of shit, I have lost every friend I thought I had and the feeling that I can call anyone friend anymore. I am terrified of calling anyone a friend now because I am afraid that if I let someone in, I will be taken advantage of and lied to like I have in almost every type of relationship I've had since I was little. I am afraid of speaking because I am afraid what I say will offend or upset or whatever someone when all I do is mean well (usually unless you're an asshat). It has made me regress back to my childhood where I couldn't trust anyone and I had nobody except for a penpal on the east coast to keep me company through msn messenger, emails, or rarely phone calls. She was the only one I could call my best friend for a long time and the only one I could open up to about things and the only one who tried to consistently cheer me up when I was hospitalized at 16 by spamming me with emails. I will forever love her and no matter how far we've drifted apart over the years, I will still love her and respond to her as quickly as possible if she ever needed me again. But if we never talk again I'm okay with it. We were there for each other during really bad times in out lives and I like to think we kept each other somewhat sane. She has done more for me than I could ever ask anyone and I'll always be grateful to have "met" her.

But since all of the shit happened with my ex friends... I don't feel safe to get very close to anyone or open up to anyone. Even the girl who defended me and stuff when I was being bullied and manipulated hardly speaks to me now. I wouldn't want to talk to me very much either if all I had to talk about were extremely negative and talk about dying. I can hardly go to my parents about things. I am home alone with just my puppy that likes to get into mischief about 80% of the day. Hardly interact with people online. Usually I just now watch YouTube videos about what's going on with people. I find very little satisfaction playing video games or anything honestly. I have lost art, something that I loved dearly and way too much. I cannot go out most often due to my health. I am stuck at home. I can hardly go outside too. It's too hot (sometimes heat can trigger flashbacks), I found out I'm allergic to grass, and last week I broke out in hives from God knows what so I can't go outside even more. I was put on steroids again for 6 days which causes your immune system to weaken so it won't produce histamines that causes the INSANE itch because every topical and oral medicine OTC would barely help at all. All I do each day is very basic hygiene, sleep when I can, eat as much as I can, and try and relax while taking care of my puppy.

Only two good things has come from all of this: one, I can finally work with a trauma therapist. Hopefully she can help me. Two... Ah I forgot what the second one was actually. Maybe being able to talk to my psychiatrist more frequently? Not sure. I'm very tired right now again lol.

All I know is that I feel very much alone and there's nothing I can do about it. The world outside is extremely dangerous and I am trapped inside my mind too frequently. And there is no extra help I can get.

So all of this led up to my main grievance for today- so far at least lol long ass story to tell just to explain what I'm upset about. My mom earlier asked me if she could give me advice. I told her it depends on what it's about. But she said it anyways. Told me to check my weight each week. She knows I'm not in the most stable state of mind and she knows that me checking my weight constantly can cause a panic attack of it goes down. (thankfully it hasn't really in a month. Only reason why I know is because I had to go to my doctor's twice the past month) I told my dad what she said and he just told me to say okay and leave it at that.

I know I don't want to go back to the state I was in in 2017. I don't want to go through that hell again. Even if I did want to, there'd be way more restrictions with the threat of covid ravaging our place and infecting everyone there. When I pass the eating disorder clinic that I was forced in when I was 16, there is literally nobody there. Maybe a couple cars but they obviously are not treating kids right now. I may be wrong but it would be very dangerous. I know over at the ERC I went to in 2017 is extremely limiting any visitors from coming. The apartments when you graduate to living in temporarily while you go to just a day program only allow maybe two people to stay there at a time and instead of walking to the van pickup spot, they pick you up at your apartment. Psychiatric wards here, or at least one of them that my therapist and I talked about going to, is still slightly operational, but it's over Zoom. So you literally can't get very good support. If you fall off the deep end while at a meeting nothing can be done to help you right there and then if you run away from the meeting.

My psychiatrist told me that if I do feel that I'm in grave danger (I think the trauma therapist I met also said the same) was to go to the ER. But I am afraid to go to the ER and then be turned away quickly and also take a chance that I might catch Covid while there, not to mention the price... And since my parents are essential workers, any one of us could come down with it at any time or be a carrier without knowing. So I'm isolated from people in real life and I don't feel safe talking to anyone online as well. Even if I had someone who wanted to talk to me to begin with that isn't some creepy horny guy wanting pixel sex... I can't think of anyone who I could potentially talk to about anything in my life... I'm just so lost and afraid of both the virtual and real world... Who can I turn to besides my therapist, psychiatrist, or maybe parents depending on what is bothering me, and of course God? I'm told I need a support system. But I can only talk to the doctors so much and my parents aren't very good at being compassionate... I have no one.

I also think about how badly I want to be hospitalized for a little while just so I can get fluids and rest and proper care but that most likely will only happen unless suicide was a big risk.

I am utterly alone...

If anyone reads this long post to the end, you're a crazy human being. xD Going to stop rambling now and put the dishes away and put the pup away for his nap and try and get one in myself.

6 notes · View notes

daily-best-jokes · 4 years

Text

A man walks into a bar with a donkey and an ostrich.

He sits down at the counter and asks for a beer.

“That will be 5.98$, sir.”, the bartender says.

The man, puts his hand into his pocket and pulls out 5 dollars and 98 cents in exact change.

“How much will it cost to buy everyone here a round of drinks?”, the man asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“That would cost 257.54$, sir.”, the bartender says, looking at the register.

“Let everyone have a round of drinks on me.”, the man replied, pulling out exactly 257 dollars and 54 cents out of his pocket. “And while you’re at it, get a bowl of water for my donkey and ostrich.”

Everyone in the bar is cheering as they get a free drink.

Looking at their reaction, the man goes “Eh, fuck it. What is the total tab of all these people in the bar?”

“3325.79$, sir.”, the bartender asks after adding up all active tabs in the bar.

The man puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a huge stack of bills and some coins and hands it over without even counting them.

After counting it, the bartender finds that the man handed over exactly 3325.79$.

Now curious, he asks the man “How is it that you are able to pull out the exact amount of money needed every time? Are you some magician?”

“I’ll tell you if you can keep it a secret.” the stranger replies.

“Of course”, the bartender says.

“Well, this happened around a year ago, I was walking by the street next to my house and tripped over something. I looked back to see what had nearly made me fall and saw that it was a lamp, all shiny and golden.”

“Suddenly, a puff of smoke clouded my vision, when I could see again, there was a genie there!”

“He said ‘Now that you have made me free I shall grant you wishes three.’ Now, the most important thing in the world right now is money, and I thought to just ask for a large sum of money. I thought about it a little, I realised that just asking for a large sum of money straight up is kind of stupid, it would be hard to manage and it would look very suspicious in my bank account.”

“I thought about it a little more and decided to ask that whenever I put my hand in my pocket, I will always have the exact amount of money I need for that situation in it. This way, I have seemingly infinite money without the hassles of carrying it around and risking it being stolen.”

The bartender, now impressed at his way of thinking, says “Wow, you seem really smart, I never would have thought of that. You found a creative way to get the benefits of infinite money without any of the dangers.”

“If your first wish was so ingenious, you surely must have asked for something equally clever for your other two wishes. So what did you ask for using your last two wishes?”, the bartender asks.

The man replies, “A chick with long legs and a big ass.”

submitted by /u/303x [link] [comments]

#jokes #fun #humor #joke #funny jokes #funny #lol #texts #funny texts #haha

6 notes · View notes

slasherscream · 5 years

Note

hey, i was wondering if you could do a tatum x reader x sidney head canon but in a platonic way? i love these ladies but i daydreaming constantly about how amazing it would be to be besfriends with them, love it if you could do it with black fem!reader also love your blog, you’re such a lovely person ❤️

A/N: *insert me too?? the fuck. gif* you are the most valid person on earth-

sidney prescott x black!reader x tatum rileyft. platonic best friends ! platonic best friends !

——————–

There’s a certain point of popularity that you reach where you no longer actively look for new friends because people are typically just trying to get close to you for some hot gossip or a boost on the social ladder. Tatum and Sidney have long since reached this point of popularity.

Even if they hadn’t who needs a ton of friends when you have friends of quality? They’re best friends for life. Really and truly, and not just in name.

There’s an exception to every rule of course and their exception happened to be you. You came along and changed everything.

A few hang-outs a week and sitting together at lunch become running up phone bills and dragging you along everywhere they go no matter what they’re about to get up to.

Going to all of Tatum’s soccer games and cheering for her louder than anyone else. For a really important game you painted your face the team’s colors. It’s that serious.

Tatum laughed till she cried when she saw you but no one’s ever taken her playing sports that seriously before (she’s a girl playing on girl teams against other girl teams, isn’t she? what’s to take serious about that?). She keeps a picture of you two on her dresser of that first time. You, with your pretty brown face painted blue and yellow, her team’s colors; and her, sweaty but triumphant and with an arm wrapped proudly around your shoulders. It’s one of her favorite pictures.

Sidney loves having deep conversations or long, understanding silences. Both of which she can’t always get from Tatum. Whenever you provide her with either you can see the effect your company has on her. Her face goes soft with released tension and her smiles come easily the rest of the day.

Shopping with them is an ordeal. It’s super fun but it takes forever because they (mostly Tatum) never want to stop. You and Sidney can coax her away from a sale only with the promise of a cinnamon bun from the food-court.

If Tatum picks something out for you it will look good. She knows what colors your skin pops in? Knows what brings out all your best features? Knows your size by heart and can figure out what that translates to in every brand known to man (why don’t women’s clothes have sizes that make sense? we’ll never know!)

Sidney picks her outfits without fanfare (or help “thanks but no thanks, tatum”) but is perfectly happy to hype the two of you up for the fashion show Tatum makes you put on. You’ve all shared many laughter and fashion filled afternoons.

Watching movies together and coming up with some ridiculous thing you’d do for an actor/actress you think is cute. tatum: to kiss winona ryder i’d drink …. the hottest lava on earth you: and with what lips would you kiss her with post lava? sidney: and since when has there been cold lava? tatum: fuck you both-

Tatum carries around a foundation that’s your exact shade for any make-up emergencies you might have. A make-up emergency is serious business and for her to do this is the equivalent of carrying around an epipen for someone with severe allergies. That’s love bitch!

Sidney is a hugger but she didn’t know how much of her physical affection quota she got from her Mom until her Mom was gone. She didn’t realize she kept physical contact to a select (trusted) few until then because she got all the affection she needed at home.

You give her a long hug after a rough day of reporters and gossips and she bursts into tears. Now whenever she looks on edge you come up behind her and just wrap your arms around her. She always melts into it. She’s literally this post.

It’s such a little thing but it means the world to her that you know she needs it and you always give it to her without her ever asking. When you have sleepovers she curls up close to you long before you two actually intend to sleep.

She asked you the first time if you minded how close she was but when you only pulled her closer and commented on the room being kinda chilly she grinned at you. Whenever either of you is feeling extra cuddly all you have to say is “I’m a little chilly.” and the other will drape themselves around you like a cloak.

You three look out for each other viciously at parties. One time a boy you didn’t know came up to you with a drink and Tatum gave him a look that could have melted the skin from his bones. Sidney had to tell him to beat it before Tatum beat him.

One time you guys turned on one of those bridezilla shows because you were bored and it caused Tatum to ask the brilliant question of “who’s gonna be who’s maid of honor?”……dear god-

If the answer from either of you isn’t her she will lose her mind and have a bitch fit!

“You want to be the maid of honor at both our weddings?” “Uhm —- yeah. Duh.” “Y/N, will you be my maid of honor just because of this?” “Sid I would be honored. Would you do me the honor of being mine?” “You joke now but you’ll see who’s laughing when neither of you lame-asses knows where to get a stripper-”

Tatum learned how to braid your hair because she didn’t think it was fair that you’d always help her get ready like a pro but she could never do much for you. Her favorite thing to do is two long french braids. She started just braiding your hair in general when she learned how much it cost to get it done. That’s money you could be spending on shopping trips with her???

The girl’s soccer team got underfunded one year and you and Sidney got together and did bake sales, car washes — anything you could think of to help. You got the whole school behind you two because you were so passionate. With everyone pitching in and helping the girl’s team wound up with better funding than the boys that year.

You three wind up at the same college together and you get a cheap little apartment you can all afford and live together for the longest time.

Heartbreaks and finals. Surviving on ramen until Sidney picks up a coupon hunting hobby so you don’t all die from malnutrition. Tatum flirting with the neighbors so they’ll carry your things for you while you try not to laugh when it works every time. Studying hard with Sidney and being grateful and exasperated when Tatum makes the two of you party even harder.

All the holidays spent together because you can’t make it back to Woodsboro in time but you start new traditions with one another that mean more than you can say.

You’re away from home but rarely get home sick. It makes sense, really. You guys brought the most important parts of home with you: each other.

——————–

#sidney prescott x reader #sidney prescott x reader x tatum riley #tatum riley x reader #Sidney Prescott imagine #tatum riley imagine #final girl x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #can you IMAGINE having best friends like they??? ....bro....anon you are so valid

194 notes · View notes

diveronarpg · 4 years

Photo

Congratulations, DIANA! You’ve been accepted for the role of DIANA. Admin Rosey: There is a freshness and charm that Daphne brings to everything - her interviews, her conversations, her reasoning. This decision was not at all an easy one because both applications highlighted different aspects of her that we love and adore. But ultimately it was this voice, this distinctly Daphne voice that brought the decision to a close. She makes you fall in love with her that much more. I can't to see what she does when you bring her to life on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Diana

Age | 21

Preferred Pronouns | she/her/hers

Activity Level | y’all know, but I’m about to graduate college + be unemployed for a bit, so I’ll have writing time.

Timezone | PST

How did you find the rp? | Div Stanning since 2017.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Castora’s account.

IN CHARACTER

Character | Daphne Adèle Allard / Diana

What drew you to this character? | Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Daphne knows this, even if the crown she wears is a halo of thornless roses – and she fucking loves that halo, no matter what the cost is. What draws me to Daphne is that even though she’s an impeccable pickpocket, even though she loves power, and even though she’s got plenty of vices despite her cherubic features, Daphne loves. She knows what it’s like to suffer (even if it’s not like what others have gone through) and she wants to do something. She wants to help, but how much of that is her ego and how much of that is genuine is ambiguous. There’s that line between a good person and someone who does good deeds that’s very blurred when it comes to Daphne, and that fascinates me. She looks like someone who would get chewed up and spit out by the mafia, but her light shines brighter. In some ways, she’s like an anti-Marie Antoinette; she’s got that aesthetic, but she’s too bright to do a “Let them eat cake” moment (even though I know she didn’t actually say that) or play peasantry at a fancy cottage. She’s privileged and beloved and smart enough to know how to combine the two. I also find it fascinating that she almost wishes that she was that princess in an ivory tower – so everyone could be safe – and that while she embodies a little of that trope, she’s this really interesting reversal, where she’s both the princess and the dragon. There’s this interplay between the corruption of power and the trope that the people who don’t want power are the ones best suited for it; Daphne is not as angelic as she looks. She wants to save. She wants to be a heroine. She is hesitant of the power she wants to wield because she knows herself too well. But at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with wanting power. Power and goodness is a zero-sum game, especially in Verona. There’s also something relatable about Daphne that I really like, as her experience with getting bullied is reminiscent of my own. She’s incredibly beautiful, incredibly rich, incredibly powerful, and incredibly adored, but she’s still relatable, or at least, knows how to manage her image so that she comes across as aspirational and human, as well. Also, I adore that she’s 31. She’s got some naivete, but she’s a grown-ass woman with her own ambitions. In addition, her mob name is my name, and I’m shallow.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | (1) A CROWN FOR YOUR PRINCESS – Daphne doesn’t look like it, but she’s got ambition. Right now, she has not let the fact that’s sees a member of organized crime taint her. She is deified, but there is yet to be blood on her hands. I think it would be interesting for Daphne’s mask of heroism to be pushed when she has to do something truly horrible, truly unforgivable in the name of the Capulet’s. Her desire to do good with her desire to get (and keep) her power at war with one another is interesting to me, and I think pushing her to define her moral compass (or lack thereof) and figuring out where she wants to go in the mob power structures could be interesting to play out. (2) A HEART FULL OF LOVE? - Daphne is a lover. She wants love. She wants it to be real. But she��s also engaged to a man that she doesn’t love and is fascinated by Renzo to the point that he’s described as her Achilles’ Heel. Beau can help her get everything she wants – on the paper, they are a fairytale couple – but he doesn’t inspire passion in her yet; at the same time, she would be upset if he were to step out on her. I think it could be interesting to see Daphne’s own feelings for Beau become more real and have to deal with the implications of real love. Because Daphne wants power. She wants to be a heroine. She wants to be adored. But all she’s let the world see is a mask, a symbol. Not a real woman. And it’s impossible to love a symbol; you can be cherished and adored, but never truly, heartbreakingly loved in the way that she wants to be. (3) O, DEATH – Something about Daphne’s bio that fascinated me is that it describes Beau as an Apollo figure whom Daphne sees more like Hades – a man of death, of isolation, and of riches. She’s darkness where there is light. But Daphne is more of the same – she is Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, but she has her own affair with the darkness inside of her. She is a Persephone and her own Hades. She knows she’s capable of great horrors, and that she could destroy Verona if she wants to. It would be interesting to see Daphne be pushed to that darker place where she wants the city that she adores to burn. People want to destroy beautiful things. Daphne and Verona are both beautiful, and ripe for rot.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | (Devastatingly) yes.

IN DEPTH

Please choose between the interview or the para sample (or both, if you like!)

In-Character Interview: The following questions must be answered in-character, and in para form (quotations, actions written out if applicable, etc). There is no minimum or maximum limit for your response - simply answer as you would if you were playing the character.

What is your favorite place in Verona? She smooths down her hair, subconsciously rearranging the artful brown curls. Daphne doesn’t need to double or triple check in the mirror whether her lipstick is perfect or her eyeliner is crisp. She knows her angles. She knows herself. And she agreed to this interview. Not to talk about her love life, but to talk about the shelter she had just joined the board of. “I’m a Verona girl through and through,” Daphne laughs. “You’re a Verona native, too – right, Signora? You know that this city can be a lot, putting it mildly. And you know I’m just not being facetious when I say that it’s hard to pick a favorite spot. Hmm…but if I had to pick, I’d pick the Castelvecchio Bridge. For so long, it was a symbol of unity in our divided city. My parents used to take me on long walks around the city when I was little, and I remember stopping and looking out over the river. I just have fond memories of Verona at that bridge. And it’s so horrible what happened – the explosion. To have that bright for the city get taken away, it’s just horrible. I’ve been working with the Verona’s Children Relief Fund to help civilian parents who’ve lost their jobs due to the explosion. They’ve been working with families hurt by Verona’s mob war for over a decade, and really, they’re work is incredible. For example, Carlotta Alberti. She’s a single mother living in Borgo Roma with the cutest 12-year-old ever. Give me a sec –” Daphne pulls out her phone and shows the interviewer a picture of her posing with Carlotta and her son, Leo. “The warehouse Carlotta worked in was damaged during the explosion and it hasn’t been rebuilt. She’s got bills to pay. She’s got a kid to provide a future for. Through the Relief Fund, we’ve managed to set Carlotta up with an entry-level position at Falco & Company that has full benefits and room for her to grow.”

What has been your biggest mistake thus far?

Daphne grits her teeth. She knows the interviewer means no harm with this question. It’s a chance to show that she’s vulnerable and that even though she’s been blessed to the Heavens with fortune, good looks and renown, Daphne Adèle Allard still has it in her to be a woman of the people. And a woman of the people is good, and kind, and loving, and doesn’t think badly of others. Still, the first thought that pops into her head is Beau. Arrogant, useless, cold-hearted man, Daphne thinks, careful not to let her absolute frustration with her husband-to-be show on her face. “That’s a hard question to answer,” Daphne starts. “Not because I haven’t made mistakes. God knows that I have.” Her heart thunders. Daphne Allard could never escape the feeling that she was on the precipice of destruction – not of herself, but of destroying others. “It’s just that I’m a perfectionist, you know? When I do something, I need to do it right because people are counting on me. A mistake is a ripple that can turn into a tsunami.” The interviewer nods, seemingly embarrassed at having to draw attention to the fact that Daphne avoided her previous question. “But if you had to say?”

Daphne only smiles. “Not coming back to Verona sooner. I love France with all my heart, but Verona is my home. I was away for quite a while. There’s this French saying – Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. Little by little, the bird makes its nest. And I really want to make my nest here.”

The lady nods. “So, are you excited for marriage then?” “You have no idea.” You really don’t.

“Have you talked about kids, yet?” “We’ve discussed it,” Daphne responds coyly.

What has been the most difficult task asked of you? When in doubt, pivot to the wedding – Daphne had learned this at a young age. Everyone adores a blushing bride. “This is a ‘I need to check my privilege’ moment, but can I say planning a wedding? There’s so much that goes into it. Finding a good venue, good security. Finding a dress when you’ve got curves is not as easy as Say Yes to the Dress makes it look. Beau and I are trying our best to plan a sustainable wedding. We haven’t announced the list of charities yet, but we intend to do a no-gift policy. Instead, we’d like to ask our friends and family to donate to an organization on the yet-to-be announced list.” Beau and Daphne had discussed no such thing….at least, not in earnest, but no one needed to do that. “Okay, but in all seriousness – one of the hardest things I’ve been asked to do is forgive. I was bullied a lot as a child because I dared to be fat. I looked different from the other girls at school, and they let me know it. I remember every taunt, every oink made behind my back, every time someone tried to put me on a crash diet. It took a toll on my self-esteem. Every insecurity I have got magnified. And I really hated those girls. And hate really hurts you; generally speaking, it hurts you more than the other people. Since my engagement, a few people who were not the nicest to me reached out to see how I was filling out my bridal party.” “Seriously?” She asks. “Seriously. For them, the past didn’t matter. But for me, it did. I couldn’t look in a mirror for a year, and even though I’ve moved on, and I love myself and I love my life and I found someone who loves me for me –” Oh, how she wishes that were true. “ – There was still this resentment in my heart that I struggled to let go of. Forgiving those small deep cuts when there’s no apology, no remorse, nothing, was difficult. But I had to do it for myself. Those girls – maybe they’ve changed; I’m an optimist who thinks people are capable of that. Perhaps I’m a bit old-fashioned? Regardless of who they are, I don’t have to go back to being that sad, lonely little girl because they messaged me.” She pauses and adds, “I’m lucky, you know, that these are the extent of my problems.”

What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? Everyone and their mother wants to know the answer to this. Daphne has been answering this question for years. The Allard family had long ties to the Capulets, but Daphne was not going to go about advertising that or her own role in the mob. “The rivalry has been going on for years. There’s a lot of wounds on both sides,” Daphne starts. “I want peace for the people of Verona who’ve been caught in the cross-fire.” That’s why I am an emissary for the Capulets. To help, she thinks. I am a relatively high-ranking Capulet emissary because I want to be. She thrived in the darkness, in the cold, just as much as she thrived in the light. A lie. She shone in the darkness, but she craved the light. How badly Daphne Allard wanted to be bright, and shining, and good. “I’m just thinking about the Festival of Love,” Daphne starts, subtly pointing fingers at the Montagues. “So much chaos that didn’t need to happen.”

Extras: If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here! This is OPTIONAL.

Her favorite movie is Amelie

Daphne patronizes numerous charities, but has no set one up in her own name yet. She wants to set up something that could help with homelessness in the city.

She is a Virgo (born August 29th)

Daphne is an ENFJ

She enjoys watching Bon Appetit videos

PLAYLIST (as in, a playlist Daphne would have on her Spotify account)

La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Pavane for a Dead Princess by Maurice Ravel

Primadonna by Marina & the Diamonds

Petite Suite by Claude Debussy

Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles

Spring (Four Seasons) by Antonio Vivaldi

Waking Up Slow by Gabrielle Aplin

Elegie by Gabriel Faure

Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley

Mother Goose Suite by Maurice Ravel

Non je ne regrette rien by Edith Piaf

#accepted: diana #accepted

4 notes · View notes

ramblingqueenfangirl · 4 years

Text

Ok I’ve started seeing the “Jim Hutton was a gold digger”idoits coming out after a rest of the evil soul. Let me now educate these idiots why this makes absolutely zero sense. Below are multiple reasons why that is absolutely impossible to prove. Proving a lie is impossible but proving the truth is very very easy. See below.

-Jim didn’t know who Freddie really was until Live Aid. To him it was a sexy guy from a bar who sang.

-Jim saw Garden Lodge it wasn’t a secret how much money Freddie had. So a gold digger would move right on in.

-He kept an apartment of his own for months while they were dating and if Freddie got up to his tricks as he had with other lovers, Jim had it to go back to. A gold digger wouldn’t keep an apartment if he wasn’t being treated well, he would ignore the behavior and continue sucking money.

-Jim kept his job as a hairdresser when the man he’d been dating seriously for several months could easily afford to “keep” him. A gold digger would stop working and live off his lover much like a lot Freddie’s past lovers did.

-Freddie asked him to move in and Jim hesitated. A true gold digger would jump at the chance. He would also have started flaking off at work staying with his wealthy boyfriend in Germany instead of being at a job. And have zero guilt or need to think about it. A true gold digger would be in that house in record time.

-Jim turned Freddie down cold the first time he asked and didn’t call him after their “one night stand”. After he saw all the nice things Freddie had and the influence he had over people that first night and a gold digger would be calling like crazy and trying to get the rich person’s attention, doesn’t sound to me like he was chomping at the bit to get his hands on Freddie and his money.

-Freddie to the best of his knowledge and ours was well for almost two years when he was seeing Jim. Freddie was a very good judge of character and knew when people used him though as long as he got something out of it he wouldn’t mind for a while. Does anyone really think that Jim an Irish hairdresser from a tiny town could pull the wool over the eyes of one of the worlds biggest rockstars. He’d have to be an Oscar-worthy actor or an amazing con man. Which let’s face it. That’s just fucking stupid. If you are saying that, you are calling Freddie gullible which he never was; not ever.

-when he did move into Garden Lodge he worked religiously in the garden. It wasn’t called Garden Lodge because there were a few leaves to rake it is one of the biggest pieces of land and garden in London that’s residential. Peter Freestone says repeatedly that Jim worked very hard. As does everyone else in Freddie’s life.

-Peter Freestone knew Jim before he ever knew Freddie and was happy to see Freddie with an honest kind man. Doesn’t sound much like a gold digger to me.

-Every friend or ex of Jim Hutton repeatedly defended him to other people when they would gossip or talk bad about him, so that goes to show his character was of a kind person who didn’t breed much resentment in anyone who knew him.

-All of Freddie’s friends have said that Jim was a good guy. Including Terry Giddings Freddie’s driver, Peter Freestone and the NY daughters. Freddie is dead. Jim is dead. Not one of The people that knew Freddie even up until present day have recanted their good words about Jim. They have no reason to keep up a “lie”

-Jim wasn’t interested in the house he was interested in how he was being treated. From the reaction of all the GL residents they had no clue about the money Freddie would leave them until the Will was read after Freddie died. If they did expect something I know it wasn’t as much as they actually got. Especially Jim who was constantly witnessed begging Freddie to stop buying him expensive things. Yeah, that screams gold digger. Pfft!

-Joe Fanelli did not mess around he didn’t care about hurting people’s feelings especially when it came to Freddie. If Jim had been the leech all these people say, then you can bet your ass he would have said something to him especially when Freddie was too weak or ill to defend himself.

-Jim when he did leave GL took the things Freddie had wanted him to have and he wanted a cat! I mean come on a cat doesn’t come with a trust fund ffs. The stuff he did end up with he gave to be sold to raise funds for the MPT such as the Yellow Wembley jacket. Never in his lifetime did you ever see the original lyrics to BoRhap on the auction block. Their whereabouts are still unknown I think. So they weren’t auctioned off for millions.

-Jim submitted an application for a mortgage for the land in Ireland in his own name and didn’t even use Freddie as a reference in the application. Then when he had to ask for the money, Freddie gave him way more than he had asked for. The land was small plot near his mom. A gold digger would’ve bought a farm that was worth a fortune in England. Not a house next to his mom in nowhere Ireland.

-At the bar Jim frequented while he lived with Freddie he had barely mentioned he was dating Freddie and not many believed him until after he died. Freddie was never paraded around to impress anyone or anything that Freddie bought him flaunted.

-He invited his ex boyfriend, who actually DID know who Freddie was, to a party and the fight they had was because of the cold shoulder Freddie gave Jim’s friend. Not because he didn’t buy him anything or refuse to pay attention to him.

-After a vase went missing Jim didn’t tell Freddie that it didn’t matter because he could afford it. He let the fight continue for several weeks as Jim turned the house upside down looking for it. Then finally frustrated had to wait until FREDDIE let it go.

-Jim didn’t seek any media attention and never once complained when he was replaced with Mary at events. A gold digger would want to show off and flaunt their money and their source of money.

-Phoebe was a huge protector of Freddie’s and had said he was not a fan of Paul Prenter due to the way he betrayed Freddie and how he’d seen it coming. Why then would you think that almost a decade after Jim died would he hesitate to tell people that Jim was after Freddie’s money if this was even remotely true?

-Even the other members of Queen recognized how uninterested Jim was in fame and fortune. They also liked Jim and as history has proven if someone was horrible to Freddie they wouldn’t be friends with them or if forced simply polite. They hated Paul Prenter. They really didn’t know much about Winnie and the absolutely hated Bill Reid, yet they were friends with someone who was using Freddie for his money? That doesn’t seem right. Hmm

-Jim lived with his “husband” in that house for almost seven years. It was a home that they made together and all the contributions Jim made were made by him and not bought on Freddie’s dime.

-Jim did not parade around in the expensive cars Freddie owned and when he did get his license he got a VOLVO. Not a Ferrari or Aston Martin which Freddie easily could have afforded.

-Jim was there when Freddie gave him an easy out. I mean if you know that your boyfriend had given you a deadly disease the gold digger would turn and run and ask for money to leave. Including extorting the rich person for money with the threat of the biggest secret Freddie didn’t want anyone to know getting out. Jim stayed when an gold digger would have run! Trust me that is not greed.

-If you have ever cared for anyone who was dying from a very deadly disease you will know it’s basically one of the hardest things that anyone whether they love the ill person or not, could do and it’s very hard on the caregivers. Jim was a huge help to Peter and Joe sacrificing his own comfort many times to be with him.

-Jim could have run when things got hard and asked Freddie for money which Freddie would have given. Instead, Jim watched the man he loved and lived with slowly suffer and wither from being the flamboyant sexy and unbelievably vibrant man he had fallen for, into a shell of himself. AIDS in particular is one of the worst diseases to witness anyone die of including strangers. There’s no way any amount money can make you do that to the very end.

-When Freddie died he wasn’t even that rich (in rich people terms at least) nowhere near what he would be later, and Jim obviously knew nothing about property value in London or how much things cost other than reasonable or expensive. A man out for money driven by greed would know those things. And would have mentioned being left the house n a daily basis for the entire relationship. There is not one mention of Jim ever doing that.

-Jim had just lost the person he saw everyday for seven years and less than a week after the love of his life died before he knew about any money, that he wouldn’t even have access to for a while. Will’s are extremely tricky and nothing is immediate including any money received from the Will. It has to go through a system of court proceedings. He was also devastated at losing the one person he had loved more than anything and he had lived with for almost 7 years. Every inch of that house dripped with memories and those can be either comforting or completely hard to relive. There’s are stages of grief and they take time. One week is not nearly enough to even let the death sink in. Staying and remembering is often the only comfort in those times.

-Mary let them live in the guest house one to which all except Phoebe had never lived in before and were exactly what they are, “guest”quarters. Jim was not a “guest” in Freddie’s life. Also, Guards were posted in the house with explicit instructions to let no one in to any part of the house without either being scheduled or having been granted permission. Including the garden Jim had worked so hard to maintain. What the hell could he have stolen in the garden? Have you ever gardened it’s a LOT of work in heat and snow and takes a lot of physical toil. Jim didn’t care he did the job when instead he could have just lounged around the house being waited on hand and foot. A place you live with someone you love has a lot of importance in the grieving process and it takes they say about half the amount of time that you lived there with the person for you to start to move forward. Half of seven years is 3 and a half YEARS not 1 week or 3 months. You become a widow or widower and report back if I’m wrong.

-when Freddie just died, after the shock and grief of his fans had waned a bit, about a year later, a lot of Queen was only a memory and wasn’t as beloved as they are now. They kind of went dormant. Unless you were a lifelong, die hard fan people were at least a little bit less grieving than they had when Freddie died. So the timing of this gold digger’s book is really odd.

-Jim wrote the book in 1993. Made in Heaven hadn’t come out yet and the Queen renaissance hadn’t even started gaining momentum yet. In its first printing the book didn’t even sell that well. Jim shared all profits with the publisher and Tim Whapshott as well so it wasn’t exactly a cash cow at least not in England. He went on tv for about 10 minutes promoting it and on shows in countries that had a lot more going on than finding things out about a recently dead rockstar, such as civil war in Czechoslovakia for example, so I highly doubt it was selling out in bookstores.

-Until much later close to the end of Jim’s life Freddie’s Legend status hadn’t been cemented quite yet. The band was popular but nowhere close to what they are today. Jim left all profits of the book to the hospital where he was treated for cancer. That doesn’t sound much like the actions of a gold digger.

-When George Michael died he left his boyfriend at the time very little compared to what he actually was worth but way way more than Freddie left Jim. George’s boyfriend published a tell all novel with explicit details of their love life and not one thing was held back and he did it super soon after George’s death even saying George would pay for not leaving him money. Which happened! and for a while the reputation of George Michael was poison for anyone to touch. Things have changed now but that book was as written out of spite. Jim’s was written to cope with grief.

-Jim talked about a few details of his love life with Freddie, but has everyone forgotten that Freddie himself was way more descriptive of sexual things than anything Jim even talked about. Ffs he told the press he had an insatiable sexual appetite and certainly didn’t hide the fact he had “a lot of sex” from the public.

-Yes, it’s horrible to read about the horrible affect that disease had on Freddie’s body and Jim recounted what was truly important not anything super embarrassing. So he wet the bed and he changed his shorts, big deal. That says nothing bad about Freddie! It just proves how awful and horrible the way AIDS kills and in the most painful way. That way anyone who had any doubt that it was horrible didn’t after Jim’s book. Awareness was still a hard topic to get into people’s heads in 1993. It had just started becoming a widely known disease since Magic Johnson announced his positive status in 1992.

-Jim was still upset with the situation and when that book was published, yes admittedly, he sounds a bit bitter in the end because what happened after he lost the love of his life was still a new wound.

-If Jim wanted to make “real” money he could have gone to another more well-known source to write the book and he could have gone into very explicit detail as to how Freddie Mercury was as a lover. But he treated it as respectfully as he could. Leaving it out would have left out a huge part of their relationship. That book wasn’t a enormous money maker until recently. Some of Freddie’s friends have described things about Freddie’s life in much more detail than Jim did. Also, Jim never had anything bad to say about him in any public appearances, he did for documentaries, or any time he was asked for a quote about Freddie. It would be very easy for a gold digger to divulge details that would disparage the legend of Freddie but Jim loved him and he didn’t become a multimillionaire at any point in his life so how exactly is he a gold digger?

-yes he wrote in his book about the house and how he felt it was partly his etc... but you didn’t see him hiring lawyers to take Mary to court or even consulting with one, about that. He took the knocks and tried to move on. A gold digger would fight tooth and nail to get any money they could. There are countless examples of these things

-My last point is kind of a repeat of the beginning of this long ass essay. Jim Hutton died almost a decade ago, Freddie has been gone for almost 30 years. Any gag orders or promises to keep secrets has long since expired. If Jim was truly a gold digging leech someone who knew the both of them first hand would have SAID SOMETHING! The only people who say these things are fans. Anyone who was a friend of Freddie’s has never said anything like that against Jim and all loyalties would have been lost by now. People would have cashed in on the Jim Hutton the digger story, by now. But no one has. There’s only one explanation for the reason it hasn’t happened.

IT WASN’T TRUE!

If the above arguments don’t sway you from your thoughts I have tons more but my fingers are about to fall off typing this. Not to mention if you aren’t a little bit more convinced that theirs was a beautiful love story and not a gold digger taking advantage of a sick man then you are too stupid for me to waste my time. I have first hand witness accounts of all of the points I made above. It takes less evidence to sentence someone to the death penalty than I have to prove Jim Hutton was just a good guy who wasn’t after Freddie’s money! So to quote another person who addresses this exact issue well. “Fuck off!” and go learn how to read. You obviously haven’t yet or you would have found out these exact things for yourself.

#freddiemercury #queen #johndeacon #rogertaylor #brianmay #jimhutton #gardenlodge #peterfreestone #joefanelli #please give this some attention and reblog it. took forever and the next person who says anything about Jim mooching direct them to this!

15 notes · View notes

laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Pandemonium VI

Words; 5.1k

“And where would I be? Feeling lonely...separated from my one and only. So please, don’t take my love away. Let my baby stay.” - Mac Demarco

“I mean...it is rather nice of him to do that.”

You shrugged at Kat, still on the fence on whether or not to have a positive or negative reaction to the anecdote.

You had just informed her on the call you had received just a couple of hours ago, the one concerning a certain artist paying off your mom’s medical bills.

Even you (a very stubborn person) had to admit that having that expense paid was a giant weight off you and your families’ shoulders.

But at what cost?

You recalled his cunning and sly smiles, further proof that his intentions may not be all that innocent. All you needed to find out was his motive for doing this. That would connect this puzzle and ease your mind of the enigma that was Taehyung. But the more you thought about it, the more puzzled you became. He was flirtatious but just you thought someone was cute, doesn’t mean it will justify paying off their injured mothers’ medical bill (that was at least a couple grand).

But, this was a rich kid you were talking about.

Money was as familiar to him as water was to fish.

He spent thousands like you spent monopoly money. Little to no care of real life consequences.

“I just wish for some context. Like what the fuck?” You asked your friend. Kat just nodded as she walked beside you, half listening to you but half paying close attention to the shops you guys passed.

“Yeah, it is very odd. You did say this was Jimin’s younger brother, right? Perhaps he heard about Jimin snapping and coming to our dorm so he figured he should apologise on Jimin’s behalf.” At the mention of Jimin’s name, your face went stony and expressionless.

You didn’t want to tell Kat about your day, about how Jimin went so far as to show up outside your class, clearly looking for you. You didn’t want to bring up his name ever again, especially in front of Kat. The last thing you wanted was for her to be reminded of your crazed sugar daddy and how he dared assault her. Hell, you didn’t want to think about your craptastic day.

You just sighed and agreed to let the topic drop, for now at least.

“I guess that makes sense. You’re very smart, Kat.”

She just laughed, used to you complimenting her IQ when you were just being over-dramatic and lacked the use of yours. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks which caused you to do so as well. Her elfish face looked up and grinned up at the sign of a certain small shop.

“We’re here.”

The overwhelming floral scent hit your nostrils, causing you to scrunch up your nose in slight disgust. You never got why people hyped up the smell of flowers...the citrus and perfumey smell gave you a slight headache when given to you in heavy doses.

“Kat, I really don’t think this is needed.” You murmured to you friend. She waved you off and guided you to the short line.

“This place is the most well-known florist shop in our city, (Y/n). Trust me, your aunt and mom will love this. And it’s always proper etiquette to send something when a family member is in the hospital.”

You rolled your eyes, “Sis, I literally spent days with her at the hospital. I’m pretty sure I’m in the clear as far as etiquette goes.”

Kat wasn’t hearing it. “Maybe after seeing our nice ass flowers, your aunt will get off your dick.” She laughed while rubbing her hands together.

“Okay I’m gonna act like you’re not just using my mom’s accident as an excuse to look at some flowers.”

If Kat heard you, she ignored it as she began to list off the different kinds of flowers that would be good in this situation. She really was a tumblr bitch whom was addicted to these types of things. You fondly smiled, you rather her be like this than the way you saw her yesterday. Shaken and afraid.

The line moved as one more customer was served. At this moment, Kat’s phone rung and her cheerful face slid into a more somber expression.

“I need to take this, it’s Cynthia.” You let her go, knowing just how thin and frail the foundation of their relationship currently was. Now you stood alone in the line, waiting for your turn.

With nothing to do, you couldn’t help but overhear the guy who was in front of you and talking to the worker.

“I don’t know much about flowers but I just need something to send to my friend, he just got married last week and I couldn’t make the wedding..” His voice was velvet smooth and neither high-pitched nor low.

All you could see was the backside of this man. He was tall and rather lean. Shoulders were wide, but they had a delicate droop downwards, giving his posture a relaxed but consecutive posture. His neck was long (at least the back of it was) and sat on top of his head was a perfectly brushed mop of black hair.

The worker just nodded and began to work on getting an order together for him. You supposed that they got that all the time, people just coming in and asking for flowers without knowing what is called for.

“I can take the next person in line!”

You moved up to the area beside the other worker and that mystery guy as an older lady waved you over to her work station. “What can I do for you, sweets?”

Words were caught in your throat. Fuck, it was Kat who was supposed to be doing all of this. You decided to follow that other guys’ lead and just tell her the situation so she can come up with the appropriate set up.

“Yeah, I need flowers delivered to my mother’s house. She got into a car accident and I can’t be with her as much as I’d like.” the older lady gave you a sympathetic look as she began to lay down some paper to wrap the the flowers in.

“Do you have a particular color in mind?” She asked, sensing your lack of knowledge. You shrugged.

“I don’t know.. My friend mentioned doing something multi-colored?” You trailed off, trying to recall bits of Kat’s rambling.

“Well, we just got some lilies in. They come in white, pink, red, orange and yellow.”

“Can we do white and pink?” She nodded and smiled.

“Did you mention this will be getting delivered? “ You nodded and she handed you a paper that needed to be filled out before heading towards the back to get the flowers.

While putting down the address and zip code of your moms’ house, you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being watched.

You looked over and it was the guy who was in front of you just moments before, instead this time he was facing you head on.

His face was long and slender, just like his body. Chin was in a perfect V-shape, lips were wide and pink while currently being pulled back in a chesire grin. His teeth were tall and pure white. His nose was high rised, but had a smooth and perfect arch. It was long without being too big and was weirdly the best nose you’ve ever seen. Although his face was slim, his cheeks held a good amount of flesh on them, and they caused his eyes to crinkled while smiling. His eyes were ink-black, but deep set and held a glossy look over them that made them appear slightly watery. They were slightly swollen as well, giving them the appearance of cuteness and surrounded by dense eyelashes. Sort of like an anime character. The man was currently wearing a denim jacket, white shirt and black jeans.

You made eye contact and he just continued to stare at you.

You huffed.

Why the fuck were men addicted to staring?

“Can I help you?” You called out.

He nodded, smiling even wider if possible.

“What’s your name?”

You rolled your eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“I’ll pay for your order if you just give me your name.”

Instinctively, before you can process it, you had said, “(Y/n).”

He took a step towards you, now peering down at you. “Hello (Y/n), I’m Hoseok.”

You nodded but ignored his words and pushed the clipboard to him. “So like right here is where the card information comes in. Don’t forget to tip the delivery person too!” You shoved the paper in his face, making sure he won’t go back on his promise.

He laughed cheerfully, the sound like bells chiming as his eyes scrunched up to the point where you doubt he even could see through them, mouth widely ajar as more laughter escaped it.

“Your very funny, (Y/n).” He commented, looking at you up and down while still chuckling,

You nodded but couldn’t help but notice that he had yet to fulfill his side of the deal. You fake laughed but grabbed his hand and forcefully shoved him to the table along with the clipboard.

“HAhahA, yeah so the order should come out to like 30 or something and I don’t know about shipping costs but like here’s the pen and if you can just sign here and there, that’d be great.”

He laughed but did it nonetheless, signing off on paying for the order. Apparently, your pushiness was very humorous to him.

You gave hit back a pat on the back and said, “Thanks dude, but I gotta blast.”

He called out from behind you but you sprinted out of the shop, not wanting to give him the chance to regret paying for your flowers. Kat was outside still on the phone, you just dragged her along with you down the street, promising to explain later.

As a wise woman once said; men ain’t shit but walking dick with wallets.

“Is that really what you thought of me?” He laughed hard, bunny smile evident and and rounded teeth poking out.

“Listen sis, I just know a fuckboy when I see one and all my alarms were going off when I spotted your steroids headass.”

“For the last time, I’m not on steroids.”

“Yeah, you prob just snort protein powder like it’s crack. “

Jungkook laughed harder at that, hunching over in his seat.

At the moment, both of you were at the campus library. You had agreed to meet up for the project, not willing to risk your grade being compromised just because your partner was someone less than ideal. Also, he proved himself to be somewhat decent when he helped you sneak out when Jimin showed up. Quickly, you started to feel bad for assuming that he was trash. Throughout the study date, it became apparent that he was stuck in a fuckboy body, what laid under that was actually an easily flustered dork.

“(Y/n), you’re hilarious.” He giggled. You shrugged at this. You honestly weren’t that funny, people just didn’t expect girls to be able to crack decent jokes.

You two were sat at a table, side by side with papers and books spread out between you two. The library had large bookshelves that surrounded you, so tall that they almost reached the high ceilings and successfully blocked anyone from being able to see you and Jungkook unless they were at one of the other tables in the section. However, the place was very empty with the core inhabitants being the librarians themselves, plus Jungkook and you.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, we got to find a way not to fail this class.” You told him, trying to turn the attention back to the work.

You had been there for roughly 20 minutes, but still nothing had been accomplished yet. Jungkook had wanted to know why you were at first so cold to him, and you honestly told him that he just had that stupid frat boy vibe and you were already in a grouchy mood in the mornings. He spent the next few minutes trying to convince you that he was actually a lame nerd. He listed off the things he did in hopes that your previous assumption of him would melt away. You had to admit, it worked rather well. The iron man obsession, the video game marathons, the IU posters and the hobby of photography and videography weren’t what you first pictured when you saw him. You thought of axe body spray, “nudes?”, stupid gym pictures of him flexing and party going along with all those other things that came along with being a fuckboy. You guess you were wrong.

“Basically, he just wants us to answer those questions onto a google presentation that we have to share with him.” Jungkook explained, also looking at the work now. You groaned.

“How am I supposed to be able to answer those questions when I wasn’t even here for that lesson?” You thunked your head against the table. “Jungkook you should consider curb stopping this professor. Like, your so big for no reason? You should take one for the team…”

“Is that all I am to you? A fucking right-hand man to send to handle your enemies?” Jungkook fake pouted, placing a hand onto his chest.

“Shit, kook. If I have a body builder for a friend, am I expected not to use him?” Jungkook sighed, bunny face relaxing into a lazy grin. He took out a few more things from his folder and handed it over to you.

“Here, I have the answers and notes from that lesson. Just copy it down so you can look it over whenever you need.” You nodded in thanks and began to copy his work over to your own blank sheets. It was quiet for a moment as Jungkook just fondly watched you do this, taking in your

side profile and adorable face expressions of concentration. He wanted to drink you in blissfully, not with a care in the world for anything but this moment. But something was preventing him from doing that. Something that bothered him.

“(Y/n)?” he asked gingerly.

“What?” You responded, not looking up from the scribblings of fast note-taking.

“Do I know that guy who you had to sneak past?”

This question caught you off guard. You looked up. “No. He doesn’t go here and he’s a bit older.”

“If he ever gives you any problems, you know you can call on me right?” This made you snort.

“Kook, you wouldn’t even hurt a fly.”

He stared into you, eyes so dark and voice so bleak when he stated, “I can under the right circumstances.”

“KAT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE MY QUALITIES?!” You yelled from across the dorm from your spot on the loveseat.

“FUCK IF I KNOW!” She hollered right back from the bedroom. You grumbled and pondered a bit more.

‘Good team player, headstrong, analytical and grand ability to laugh at oneself.’ You typed this down while chuckling at how lame it sounded.

The next question popped up on the screen.

“KAT! WHY AM I A GOOD CANDIDATE FOR THIS POSITION?!” You screamed.

“SIS YOU’RE NOT!”

You ignored this while typing down, ‘In desperate need of experience and said position offers such qualifications.’

The job application was complete and sent.

Ever since you had cut off Jimin, you sworn off sugar daddies all together. But, this didn’t mean that income wasn’t needed. You decided to do things the old fashioned way instead of chilling with older and richer men for cash, and chose to start filling out job applications.

To be honest, you didn’t know how you were going to manage to take classes full time as well as work but you figured that you should at least try to talk to some employers about working. You sent applications everywhere. To fast food places, to clothing stores, to even personal assistant positions.

If you didn’t at least get one call back, you were going to shoot yourself.

Luckily, in a matter of two hours a call did come.

You had an interview tomorrow afternoon.

A skirt, a dressy top and heels is what you were currently wearing. You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror and honestly couldn’t recognize yourself.

You looked like such a corprate drone…

The business building was very nice as well as the bathroom that you were currently hiding in. You were one of the few people from the waiting room that were all interviewing for the position. It was to be a personal assistant of some business director.

The description mentioned that it would be all very easy work. Just managing the schedule and meetings he would have, getting coffee, and maybe picking up some dry cleaning here and there. Apparently this guy was a big deal because one letter of recommendation from him will almost guarantee a number of jobs.

But here you were, freaking out in the bathroom.

The other females in the waiting room all appeared to be very much determined to work for this guy. They looked more qualified and more comfortable with the setting that you just felt like a fool for even showing up. You would definitely be wasting the interviewer’s time. The other girls in there wore stilettos and carried fucking mini briefcases!

You took a deep breath and tried to cool off by spraying some cold water on your face, not enough to ruin your minimalist makeup. However, it would take a bit more to calm you down

You decided to make a quick call to Kat. You dialed her up and right away she picked up.

“So I’m having a panic attack in the bathroom before my interview….” You trailed off.

“Naturally.”

“Listen! I know I’m the queen of over reactions but I can’t help but feel like something really shitty is about to happen!”

At this moment, a woman who was way more prettier and confident than you’ll ever be in such a place, walked in to the bathroom during your little rant. She gave you a dirty look before disappearing in a bathroom stall. Embarrassment colored your cheeks.

“(Y/n), what the fuck can happen at an interview at a well respected business? Don’t freak yourself out and get back out there. Let’s get this bread.” Kat attempted to encourage you.

You just nodded and hung up given you were no longer alone in the bathroom and would feel more awkward to continue your meltdown.

‘Let’s get this bread indeed’ you thought with fake confidence, before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as you stepped back into the waiting room, a voice called out,

“(Y/n) (l/n)? Mr. Kim will see you now.” You halted in you steps before taking a deep breath and making your way up to the desk, heart pounding.

The secretary smiled at you sweetly and motioned for you to follow her.

You allowed yourself to be led to a conference room where she told you to just knock and wait for a response before going in.

You knocked on the large black door, lightly. Listening closely for your cue.

“Come in!” A light voice called out.

You opened the door and stepped inside.

It was a big room that had glass walls and a breathtaking view of the city’s skyline. There was a long table with about 10 seats sourrounding it smack dab center of the room. You guessed that this is where meetings were held.

A man was seated on one side of the table and began motioning for you to sit on the one right in front of him.

Currently, he was looking down at his laptop and typing away, glasses on and cup of coffee beside him. He still had yet to look up at you.

You supposed he did this one too many times today. The guilt of wasting his time hit you once again now that you had a face to put to the poor interviewer. And what a handsome face it was...

He had really wide and buff shoulders that was covered by a suit. His skin was extremely pale and free of any imperfections. Not so much as a single blemish tainted his face. A walking advertisement for any skin-care product he uses. His face was oval shaped and held a very sharp jaw. Chin prominent and square-ish to balance the slenderness of his cheeks. The lips were very pouty and dark, berry pink. His nose was straight and had a cute, fleshy bulbous at the end. At each side of his nose were one of his small and black eyes that were currently downcast. His eyes held slightly curled and coal black eyelashes, that matched his black hair that was charmingly tousled on top on his head. He looked like he was a high-class actor. It was almost hard to believe that someone could achieve such physical perfection without the help of plastic surgery. Not one feature about him was off-putting. You supposed someone as physically blessed as him must get used to the stares of women.

“(Y/n), is it?” His voice was high and soprano with a enchanting twinkle.

“Yes.” You simply answered.

He looked up for a brief glance to look back down at your resume, only to look back up at neck-break speed.

His eyes bulged a tad bit as they met yours once again.

A crooked smile spread across his face after a moment of just observing you.

“I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m the one who is looking for the assistant.” Your eyes widened a bit at this development.

Fuck, this whole ordeal just became a bit more intimidating.

“Well Ms. (Y/n), I’d love to get to know a bit more about the type of person you are.” He said while leaning forward against the table, placing his enthralling face on top of his propped hands.

You were a bit taken aback at how focused he was, and wondered if everyone got such treatment during their interviews.

“Umm...I-”

You were interrupted when the door opened and someone stepped inside. A husky voice asked,

“Jin, when is the meeting going to start? We all got shit to do you know and you’re taking up the whole conference room.”

Jin’s face dropped to a look of annoyance as he glared up at this unsaid person. “Yoongi, I’ll be done in a bit. I’m in the middle of a interview.” he looked back a you. “It will most likely be the last one for today. Miss. (Y/n) looks to be a very promising candidate…” He winked at you, confusing the hell out of you. You barely said anything about yourself and you knew damn well the info he had on you wasn’t exactly groundbreaking.

“Whatever, I’ll just tell the rest th-Wait.” The voice cut itself off. You heard footsteps get closer. “(Y/n)?”

You turned around.

And there stood that fucker from the bus.

“Yoongi?” You asked. He smiled, gummy and sweet.

Today he was wearing an armani suit (nothing like the hoodie you first saw him in) however his tie was still loosened which made you smile. Even in this type of environment, he still managed to be laidback and chill.

“What are you doing here, doll? Don’t tell me you’re trying to be Jin’s new assistant.” He droned, face bored but soft smile still present.

You nodded, nerves slowly melting away now that you saw a familiar face. You joked, “Do you mind putting a good word in for me, man?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Sorry babe but I don’t hate you enough to try to put you onto this job. Jin’s probably gonna have you position his hair dryer just right for him more than doing actual work.”

“Hey! Is that a way to talk about your older brother!” The handsome man seated in front of you yelled, facing turning slightly red.

Your jaw dropped at ‘brother’.

Before you can say anything, another voice added to the conversation, this time it came from right outside the now open door.

“What’s the hold up, guys? We promised dad to get the expense reports done today and I’m not working overtime.”

You looked over at the voice and almost shat yourself.

God wasn’t gonna let you outrun this for too long.

You ran from him originally but somehow you managed to run towards him without your knowing.

There stood Park Jimin.

“(Y/n)!” He exclaimed. He thrusted himself into the room and onto his knees before you, taking your hands into his. His eyes (that already were rather swollen and red) teared up as his cherub face glazed up at you.

“B-babygirl, I’m so happy to see that your okay! When you told me about your mom and the car accident I just felt so awful.” His voice broke as he hiccupped some more. “W-what can I do to help, (Y/n)? Please! Just tell me! I’ll do anything to earn a spot back into your life!”

He was full on sobbing at this point. Chubby and small face covered with tears as he pushed himself further onto your lap and closer to your face.

“You have the right to be upset with me, b-but you can’t just kick me out of your life! I’ll accept any punishment but that!”

Due to the commotion, you hear murmuring sounds come from outside the room. You couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes from Jimin and his usually joyful face that was now crumpled up with misery. A proud man who had everything was currently on his knees in front of you, begging just for some sort of contact with you and reassurance of your well-being. His unique and raspy voice sounded so raw and broken when crying out for you.

You patted his head, trying to get him to calm down to any extent.

He leaned into the action, reminding you of a kicked puppy who just craved affection from his owner.

You heard multiple footsteps enter the room, without a doubt here to witness the scene of businessman Jimin and his sudden breakdown. You decided to ignore the other personas in the room and try to reason with your former sugar daddy.

“Jimin, you attacked my roomate. I can’t forgive that.”

He jumped up at this, grasping at your waist and pulling you closer to him, apparently not caring if he wrinkled his fancy suit. “It’s a misunderstanding, I swear! Let me explain!”

You heard a harsh gasp that pierced the room so vividly that you just had to look up and see who it was.

There stood four men, watching the scene.

And you knew all of them.

Each and every single one.

“i have 6 brothers.” Jimin had told you this on the night of your first outing.

And like that, it connected.

All of it….. connected.

Like a puzzle you didn’t even knew existed until all the pieces were face to face with you, mocking your inability to solve it.

7 men who were all young, handsome and heirs to a multi-million dollar company ran by their father.

Like a Shakespearian drama, hell unleashed itself in the confined space of the conference room.

“You’re the crazy ex (Y/n) was talking about?!” Jungkook yelled, glaring at Jimin with his doe eyes know filled with pent-up aggression now that he knew whom was responsible for your fear.

“How the hell do you know her?” Hoseok demanded of Jungkook. This made the youngest of the bunch scoff.

“What do you mean how do I know her? We’re classmates! The question is how do you old, senile fucks know her?!” He hollered, addressing all of the other men in the room.

Jimin ignored this and tugged your face back to him. He just needed you to forgive him, he didn’t bother with his siblings at the moment. He had tunnel vision whenever you were in a room. Now more than ever, as your forgiveness was top priority.

“I didn’t attack Kat! (Y/N), you have to believe me! And why are you even interviewing for this job, baby? You know that as your sugar daddy that I’ll provide for you.” Jimin was holding you so close to him, afraid that something might just snatch you up if he wasn’t looking. Which was somewhat true given the particular scene…

“Sugar daddy?!” Seokjin gaped, shocked at the revelation.

“So she’s basically only with you for money…” Yoongi smirked, monotone voice expressionless as always. He was pleased because this meant your relationship with Jimin was very easily replaceable and not built off of true feelings on your side. He’d just offer you more money and tada! You were going to be his.

“Was. She was with him.” Jungkook corrected, crossing his arms.

Jimin snapped at this term, brain not willing to comprehend that it was over. Couldn’t they see that this was just a bump in the road for him and (Y/n)? He wanted them to shut up before they gave you ideas of keeping him away from you.

“Shut your fucking mouths! This is our relationship and our business. Not you nosy motherfuckers!” He growled at them, stunning you.

Your mind was so preoccupied at the moment. Even amongst this chaos.

How did you manage to run into all of them at once? In an office setting, nonetheless.

You’ve been to Jimin’s workplace before and it was a building that was on the other side of town. So, how the fuck are they all here?

“I thought the building on the West side of town was your guys’ family business.” You mumbled, dazed and confused. This was like a venus fly trap that you stumbled upon. You usually had more wit than this to willingingly walk into a messy situation.

“We have 3 different locations in the city, baby.” Namjoon said this while studying your concentrated face fondly. It was so cute when you thought so hard.

You eyes looked up to meet the one brother who had yet to speak.

He was the only one who looked unbothered with the whole ordeal, just watching it with aloofness and moderate entertainment at the digs they gave each other.

“Why did you pay off my mom’s bills?” You couldn’t help but ask him, not knowing if you’d ever get this chance again.

He smiled down at you, and even the other brothers stopped to study Taehyung, alarmed at your question.

He shrugged and asked, “Is it wrong to want to take care of my future mother-in-law?”

Author’s note: ALL MEMBERS ARE HERE NOW SO ALL ASKS ARE OPEN!! Also thank you all sooooo much for the support and esp the asks, I love doing them. Pls let me know what you think of this chapter and also you guys should feel free to send any questions you may have for me or just to say whatever you want. I love it.

1K notes · View notes