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suriel · 1 year

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The Story of Loki and Suriel

A long time ago, in a galaxy known as Southern California, a girl met a boy. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and it led to thousands of days of love and tears and adventure and music and laughter and sadness and dogs and cats and pain and Buggs and more love.

This is our story.

Look, I’d love to start with the good stuff, the festivals, the European jaunt, the outrageous parties and club nights and some mind-blowingly amazing things, but you need to know how it started.

For reasons too boring to go into, I didn’t go to college right out of high school, but instead, enrolled as a freshman at the ripe old age of 23. I felt ancient, ridiculous, out of place. Excruciatingly awkward. But I needed to do something with my life, and public colleges were unbelievably cheap in the long-ago time of 1990. And so there I was. I had only vague degree ideas, and so chose classes I’d like: photography, music appreciation, and a couple more classes to round things out. I wanted to take French, which I’d taken in high school & enjoyed, but the class was full SADFACE.

Happily, there existed the petition system, and it worked like this: If you didn’t show up to the first day of class, you were automatically dropped, and your place given to petitioners, in the order they signed the petition sheet. So I rocked up to French first thing, put my name down, and sure enough, by the end of class, there were several no-shows & I got in.

The class was full of teenagers, one much older woman, and some older students more my-age-ish. And in that group, a boy. Shock of California-white hair, nice arms, blue-blue-blue eyes, full lower lip. Definitely on the punk/goth/alternative spectrum, not quite polar opposite to my suburban-late-80s-tinged-with-metal look. Anyway. He looked interesting. And cute.

Our French class followed one that always ran over, so every day we queued in the hall. And one day, I found myself in the queue next to the boy, and as the result of a pep talk from my stepmonster of all people, I talked to the boy. Opened my mouth and said words, but because Awkward AF, what I said was, “I’m mugging you and taking your jacket.” (It was a fantastic grey blazer, of a type I’d been on the lookout for. How convenient that the boy had arrived with one!)

He blinked. “OK.” He probably shrugged, too, but class went in and that was the end of that. I basically writhed in an agony of embarrassment the entire class.

It was a long class, 3 hours, broken into 2 bits with a break in between, during which a loose group of us would get snacks in the quad. As we exited the room that day, I felt something on my shoulders. The boy had draped his jacket there. Confused and awkward, I took it off. “I can’t take this, you’d never see it again.”

Curse you, memory, that I can’t remember what he said or how he looked. Ageing fucking sucks, and chronic conditions that rob one of memories suck even worse.

I gave back the jacket, but we bantered the entire break, finally landing on natural disasters. I’m from Chicago, so I favor tornadoes, that you generally see coming. The boy preferred earthquakes - pure chaos, happening anywhen, anywhere, who knows! I’d lived in SoCal for 7 years and not felt a single one. Like I’d been in my car for the Northridge quake, and had to hear about it on the news.

So French was my last class of the day, and I rolled home with a neighbor friend who’d gone back to college with me. We stopped at 7-11 for cigarettes, probably, and while I was browsing the aisles for a snack, I started feeling really weird, dizzy and strange. Looking up, I watched the owner of the 7-11 leap his counter and run into the parking lot, along with half the store.

It was a fucking earthquake.

Well, at least this gave me something to talk to the boy about. Berate the boy about. Perhaps punch lightly in the upper arms about.

So I did.

And slowly, over the course of a Southern California spring, the boy and I became friends.

His name was Loki. He had been a jock whilst also being a punk. Was a musician. Loved physics. Had turned down the Navy’s nuclear program. He told me about Douglas Adams, Monty Python, entropy.

I can’t remember if I had anything good to share about anything other than books at that point. Personal anecdotes maybe. We’d traveled a good deal when I was growing up so maybe that? I can’t imagine it was earth-shattering, I was 23. And sheltered, and awkward af, and such a nerd.

Even with all that, we started hanging out outside of school. Met at the mall once, because SoCal in the 90s. Lunches, walks, browsing the little shops around the college. And then he asked me to go clubbing with him.

My friends, I have explained that I was into metal, but also listened to KROQ on the sly and was already slightly familiar with alternative in general and Lullaby in particular, but my first goth club was the very underground Helter Skelter.

Y’all. Y’ALL. I was entranced.

My goth cherry was well and truly popped and the flowering had begun. The first song I danced to was Big Hollow Man. I felt ridiculous dancing alone, but no one else was dancing with anyone else -- nor dancing like anyone else -- and I started to relax. A bit. About the club, not about anything else, like I was in some skeevy corner of Hollywood at a club that didn’t even open until 11, but I was there with Loki and that was ok. Squirmy but ok.

So I’d been living, since finishing high school, with my boyfriend/fiance and his mom, but things were meh, and that’s all you need to know about that relationship. I was honestly better friends with his mom -- like, to this very day -- but because I was living with them on the cheap, and didn’t have a lot of dollars because I wasn’t working, I felt a little stuck. Also this was my first long relationship & breakups are hard. So I sort of cheated. Emotionally I cheated like whoa. Physically less so but yeah. Oh, and his mom knew, had met Loki & liked him, so there I was.

And every time I went somewhere with Loki, I was an anxious mess. Worried about being seen with him, being caught, being found out. Stomach churning, hands shaking, sweaty palms levels of anxiety. His band played a show on Earth Day, and I went to see them, but a friend of my BF’s mom was there and I panicked and fled.

Despite that, there were some good moments. He took me on a picnic to Corona Del Mar, and we had our first kiss on the old lifeguard station that faces the harbor. (Fun fact: I’d taken a pic of that very stand on a whale watch cruise we did in high school just a few years before.)

I can’t remember any details, but as the end of term neared, things were coming to a head, and my dad provided my escape route: He offered to pay for me to attend university -- yay! But -- in the swamp -- boo! Except-- what better way to end my relationship with HS BF than to move a thousand miles away? Perfection! Except-- I’d have to leave Loki, too.

I told him the deal. We’d met at a mall near his house, and by the end, we were driving across the street to a travel agency, where he booked a flight to the swamp for August.

So my mom & brother rocked up with a U-Haul and a trailer for my CRX, and we drove through the desert southwest and into the swampy south in June in cars with no air conditioning. How did I survive? Bauhaus.

A few days before I was set to leave, I had one last lunch with Loki, a picnic (what else?) on his lunch break. He gave me his precious copy of 1979-1983 Side 2 on cassette, kissed me when I drove him back to work after.

So I rolled across the country learning the words to Kick in the Eye, appreciating the Hollow Hills of east Texas, singing along to She’s in Parties, Spirit, Crowds. It was my first goth tape and I fucking loved it. Soaked it in for a thousand miles.

(When we arrived in the swamp, my stepbrother and his girlfriend were there to welcome me and take me for food. I offered to drive, but said, “Hope you won’t mind my music.” “What is it?” Donna asked. “Bauhaus?” “LOVE ‘EM!” And so I met my Swamp Bestie.)

School was school. I was again alone and awkward as fuck and did not make friends at school, but that was ok because after dinner that first night, Donna had taken me to the bar where the cool kids hung out. I had gotten well hammered on one Flaming Dr Pepper and had had to be driven home by Peter, destined to be Loki’s best man at our wedding. Funny how things work out. Anyway, I met many of my future gang in that first 24 hours.

But this is about Loki and I, so let’s fast-forward to August. He flew into Baton Rouge, an hour away, and he spent the entire drive back touching my arm, nuzzling on my neck, staring at my profile lit by headlights on the highway. We got back to the house, up to my room, and suddenly Things Were Happening and I was Not Ready but we pressed on. This I remember. The dark room, inhaling the scent of him, the satin feel of his skin, the muscles in his back, that ass so help me gods. It did not go well. It was -- I was so awkward. I misunderstood a suggestion, blurted out a boundary in the most awkward possible phrasing -- like, it became a catchphrase -- and he laughed, but in a sweet way, and held me until I fell asleep. The first time I’d relaxed with his arms around me. It felt so fucking good.

One day during his visit, we went to Avery Island, the Jungle Gardens. We got out of the car at the only place you’re allowed to (because alligators), at the Buddha, and sat on his hill, leaning against his glass case, watching a storm roll in. We kissed in the rain, and he told me he loved me. I said it right back.

At the airport. Can’t see for tears. “Ask me to stay,” he said in a low voice. I was shocked, taken aback. “I can’t do that -- this is the swamp.” I couldn’t subject anyone to this. Heat. Humidity. Racism. Terrible roads. My stepmonster.

And so he left. Got in a plane and flew away, whilst I drove home sobbing.

After I moved away in June, he wrote to me literally every day. A physical letter. With a stamp and everything. Usually a dinosaur stamp, too, because dinosaur stamps are cooler than boring regular stamps. Every day. Sometimes there were packages full of little trinkets. Pretty stones. Small gadgets. Mysterious machines.

After his visit, the letters missed a day or two here or there. Maybe three. The packages stopped coming. We didn’t talk on the phone a lot because long distance charges (kids, ask your parents), but when we did talk, I asked him to come for winter break. He finally agreed. I bought his ticket with money I didn't really have.

This time he flew into New Orleans, two hours away. We drove home straight away again, but it wasn’t the same as August, not the same at all. We spent the first night in a sweaty tangle, but turns out that was because he had food poisoning from airplane food. He spent the first day hugging the toilet.

We ended his trip with a day in New Orleans before his flight. I showed him all my favorite places in the French Quarter. We ate bread pudding with bourbon sauce, and found a bar with Bauhaus on the jukebox, and had amazing shower sex, and did not talk at all about anything important. At the airport, he told me he’d met a girl, and I can’t remember anything after that, except that now I had twice the drive home & I still couldn’t see for tears.

Of course I was heartbroken, but I was also young and hot with a circle of young and hot friends and in a place where a party or a club or a festival is happening all the time. It’s like alcohol was the religion & I was running for High Priestess. I had no end of fun, while also pining heartbrokenly for Loki. Much terrible poetry was written.

I’ll have words about my sojourn in the swamp later, perhaps, because it was crammed full of adventures, but let’s fast forward two years.

It is the summer of 1992. Loki and his hag have moved to the desert, because that’s where she grew up & she wanted to go back. Also it’s cheaper than SoCal.

Meanwhile, I have dropped out of university and am now living with Peter (more stories!), and Hurricane Andrew is bearing down upon us. It is my first hurricane & it sounds like it’s gonna be bad. We gather supplies, tape the windows, fill the bathtubs and get hammered. I call Loki.

“Hurricane Andrew is coming. I’m probably going to die. I still love you.”

I pass out. I awaken in the morning to horrific destruction -- everywhere but Peter’s neighborhood. I lived!

Nothing more is said.

Until …

October.

Loki calls me. He is hammered.

“The Hag’s been fucking all her exes. I’ve kicked her out. Come live with me?”

Two weeks later I was in the desert.

#the Story of Loki and Suriel #The Beginning #it me #gnu my sweetie #christ I'm posting it #my heart rate monitor is LOSING ITS MIND

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jet-black-feeling · 2 years

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So I went to my first MCR gig on the 27.05.2022, and I don’t even know where to start describing how it felt. I don’t think I have enough words to properly say what this gig and this band means to me.

On the train full of emos, I met two nice people and we randomly started talking. It was so nice, they both felt so familiar, like we’ve known each other for ages. That only ever happens to me with MCR fans, it’s like we have this instant connection and I can trust them and know that they will probably relate to a lot of my life. After all, MCR literally saved tons of people’s lives.

The queue was so strange – in the middle of the park, surrounded by bushes, grass and trees, a line of emos looking like they’re camping out on a day trip or something. Of course, I fell into some bushes in the narrow path and I still have cuts from the thorns. Classic. This is probably the most nature that us emos have had for a long time. We go outside one time but only to go see MCR xD.

Then we sat in the back of the queue and talked about our catholic upbringing, coming out, pronouns, religion, trauma etc. It felt so strange to feel so close to someone I just met.

The venue was literally just a grass meadow in the park, and it was set up for the upcoming festival so it had lots of food stalls, multiple bars and merch stands, and a few theme park rides XD. It felt like a mini Coachella tbh. We immediately queued up for the merch and I got the Castle t-shirt. It was so awesome to see all these people, young and older, looking unapologetically like they wanted to, swarming this park in poor old Warrington (which is a total shithole just as expected). I reckon the residents have never seen anything like that XD.

The first support act were Crawlers, who I’d not heard of before but they were awesome. Then, quite a few people came up to me to say they liked my trans flag which I was wearing like a cape. I saw some other people having gay, pan and trans flags in the crowd and it made me feel so safe and seen. I knew that most of the crowd were allies or queer people and just this freedom to be myself was great.

The next act were Starcrawler, and tbh they wern’t my vibe but they were objectively good.

On the playlist in-between support acts they were playing emo classics like FOB and Panic but also Vengaboys and Holding Absence, which was weird and cool. At one point, we looked back behind us and realised the entire venue was full, there were people literally all the way to the back gate! Also, Gerardboard made a return.

Then Frank Turner came on and they were good and very interactive with the audience. After they finished, people started chanting ‘MCR’ and ‘Fuck the Tories’ XD. And then the audio came on for like 5 minutes, this weird, distorted buzz, and then MCR came on stage.

Everyone immediately sang The Foundations of Decay and I was just in disbelief of how good the band looked and sounded. Gee wasn’t wearing any crazy outfits, just a pair of jeans and a jacket, but he looked so good and happy. They all looked so damn happy!

Gee kept calling us Manchester, before the crowd chanted Warrington and he was like ‘Who even knows about Warrington, Manchester is right there! I even wrote it on the drum…’ and he did, he wrote I <3 MCR on the kick drum.

Then they played NaNaNa and the crowd went crazy, it was great. A few songs later they played ‘The only hope for me is you’ and that’s where I cried for the first time. Before this song, I was just screaming and laughing, but then this one hit me because I had this friend who listened to this song with me and now we don’t speak anymore. It just felt so strange, I felt happy but like someone or something was missing.

Gee looked so happy though, he was smiling all the time, he even got a hug from Ray which was so cute, and he went on these little rambles about having a mic with a cable, or that they went shopping for clothes XD. Gee said he remembers that their first headlining gig in the UK was in the Day and Night café in Manchester, which still exists now and is great. He said that only a few people in the States ‘got them’ as a band, but in the UK people just got them and that he owes a lot to the UK. As an ‘adoptive’ Mancunian this made me so happy. He also said that this tour is the first one where they genuinely just have fun, and each concert is better than the last one, and it was just so cute.

On WTTBP everyone sang so loudly and beautifully, I felt like I was part of something so special and bigger than any of us alone. 25 thousand kids singing out these words from the heart, sending them to the universe, connected like one heartbeat. It was so majestic. Then Teenagers came on and Gee said he dedicated it to Bandit whose 13th birthday it was. At some point during the set, the black curtain in the back fell down revealing a set that looked like a dilapidated city, with a broken car and also balloons on either side.

I cried again during Summertime, again because of missing my friend and my high school years. I was just thinking about how much everything has changed and how far I’ve got in life since I was 18.

Helena and Mama were so epic, everyone sang and it felt so special. Then S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W came on and I cried again. I looked up at the sky: the sun setting, the clouds dispersing and planes flying high, and I thought of my childhood and teenage years and all the people I’ve lost along the way. It felt so surreal: on one hand I was seeing my favourite band after all these years, but on the other I still felt lonely, like nothing has changed, even though I’ve managed to escape my shitty hometown. I was just crying out of the pure shock and nostalgia combined.

The gig was all that I could have hoped for, but nothing that I imagined. I can’t explain it. Part of me will still miss the old NJ vibe back when they were just some local band playing in shady small bars, even though I never got to experience it. Somehow, I just have this close connection to that time. On the other hand, though, seeing them so happy, just vibing like a few friends on stage, and still sounding so great – this is honestly more than I could ever wish for, so maybe it makes sense that I’m only seeing them now, maybe it was meant to be this way.

Before Famous Last Words, Gee did a speech about how they’re so happy to be a band again, and that for the first time ever they are just happy to play on stage, they don’t have to worry about impressing people or sounding perfect. He also said that before, he used to hate hotels, he would sit in the dark cold hotel room and miss his family and be miserable but not on this tour, and he actually opened the blinds to let the sun in. He said ‘and the fucking shades will open and the sunlight will come in’ and it stuck with me.

They played Cancer and I was just stood there in awe of Gerard who looked so angelic. The last song was I’m Not Okay and people went crazy again, singing at the top of their lungs.

After the gig, we all headed out of the park and it looked like an actual Black Parade: tonnes of emos walking down a dual carriageway at night, it looked like a movie sequence. The trains were shitshow, just as expected from a small town. I got home about 1.30am: my ears were ringing and my heart was pounding and I didn’t want the night to end.

On Saturday, I looked at the t-shirt I got: the old Castle design saying ‘My Chemical Romance, Newark, NJ, est 2002’ and I started sobbing. The fact that this band from New Jersey, a place I've never been to, who started out in some shitty bars, and got ridiculed by the media, feels so close to me, like I've somehow lived that story. In a way, I did. Maybe it’s the fact that they, like me, started out in a shitty town and escaped.

The gig was honestly all that I could have hoped for, but nothing that I imagined. I can’t explain it. Part of me will still miss the old NJ vibe back when they were just some local band playing in shady small bars, even though I never got to experience it. Somehow, I just have this close connection to that time. On the other hand, though, seeing them so happy, just vibing as a few friends on stage, and still sounding so great – this is honestly more than I could ever wish for, so maybe it makes sense that I’m only seeing them now, maybe it was meant to be this way.

It's been so great lately to be active on twitter again and have a community. It’s so much better than seeing the transphobia or horrible world news. I feel like a teenager again, re-living the experiences I should have had when I was young.

But I’m also scared. The post-concert depression kicked in super fast. It felt like a religious, life-changing experience, and it was. But now what? I keep thinking that I’m only holding on to the next show in Warsaw, but after that: what do I hold on to? What do I dream of? How am I supposed to live now that my biggest dream has come true? I thought I’d somehow feel different, happier, but the afterglow of the show gave way to heart-wrenching longing. I miss them so fucking much already, and I feel like nothing will ever make me feel this way.

It feels strange now to just go back to the mundane, to work and all the other stuff, how am I supposed to live after such an experience? I feel like I could probably just ditch anything and follow this band anywhere if I had the chance.

#my chemical romance #mcr #mcrwarrington #mcr warrington #personal #sorry i had to get it out of my system

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memwazz · 10 months

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SEVEN Backstories - Cat and Aloïs :

The Marshall Effect

"I had chatted with this man for less than a quarter of an hour, but it felt like I'd just been blown by a hurricane. 'Guess it was the Marshall Effect. "

Here's another flashback for my story SEVEN : Division United, but it's written and not drawn this time !

The story is from Cat's viewpoint and tells how she met her future boyfriend Aloïs when she was still working as a cashier in a small grocery store.

"Nothing interesting had happened in my life for the last two years and it wasn’t quite surprising. I mean, what could happen to an average girl working at a quiet little grocery store to pay off her student loan? This place was about to close permanently because it barely worked anyway.

The evening shifts especially, were the most boring times of the week. My manager usually left at eight, then no customer would ever come and I was doomed to wait at the checkout for an hour, if not more.

It was until he appeared from nowhere. Never saw him before – or trust me, I would have remembered. On a rainy Thursday evening a tall, well-mannered man in a suit walked in, exactly twenty minutes before the closure. Nothing unusual at the beginning, yet I kept my eyes on him because I had nothing else to do.

Then he started zigzagging between the shelves, walking past the same ones again and again. He was probably lost since it seemed to be his first time here.

I glanced at the nonexistent queue and stood up to leave the desk. Helping that guy would keep me busy for the next five minutes and it was exactly what I was looking for.

“Hello. Can I help you?” I asked when I reached him.

He startled like he hadn’t heard me coming and turned around with a confused look.

“Hi, uh, what do you mean ?”

“You look a bit lost, I was wondering if you were looking for anything specific.”

He shook his head.

“I’m not lost,” he replied in a distant tone. “I just have… patterns.”

“Oh, fine then, I’m sorry I bothered you.”

He politely nodded and started shopping again, then I got back to my desk.

The man finally returned while I was eagerly staring at the clock. Right after the cashing and when he was about to leave, there were only two minutes left before we closed.

“Just in time,” I smiled. “Guess you’re lucky.”

“It’s no chance,” he said, “I calculated. Good evening.”

After he was gone and during the whole closing, I kept thinking of how special this encounter was.

But as busy as I was, I quickly forgot about it. Until the very next Thursday, when the same man came again… exactly twenty minutes before the close. “No chance,” I immediately thought, “just calculations.”

When he came up to me, he was queuing alone again, standing without a word. The silence quickly embarrassed me for an unknown reason so I took a deep breath and thought about something to say. He was the only person I could even talk to anyway.

“So, uh,” I awkwardly asked, “did you just move nearby? I’ve only seen you twice.”

“Not at all,” he answered, “I’ve been in Departown for years. I just…” he paused, looked away and scratched his neck, almost troubled. “Not that I like changing my habits but I had to. The shop I used to go to stopped selling Worcestershire sauce. It felt like a treason so I decided I would never come back.”

I blinked and kept quiet for a second, then laughed openly thinking it was a joke. Who would ever feel betrayed by a grocery store ?

But the man stared at me with a straight face and I immediately felt stupid. Was it for real? If so, my laugh had probably sounded like a mockery. I blushed and apologized but my customer stood silent and kept looking away. What a fucking faux pas.

While scanning his items, I wondered what I should do. Shut the fuck up for the next three minutes or just keep chatting like nothing happened?

I decided to fight my talkative temper and focused on these carefully aligned articles. But my extreme concentration quickly got troubled by a strange feeling of déjà-vu. Like the cashing was occurring the exact same way as the previous week. Was it by chance or… calculations?

A sentence suddenly came back to my mind: “I have patterns”. It was probably the key so I attentively stared at my screen looking for the said pattern. And it hit me like a flash.

“Is that…”

“Alphabetic order?” the man guessed. “Yes.”

Surprised to see my intuition confirmed, I quickly checked the screen again. The last articles from the list were indeed vanilla, wheat bread, – an indecent quantity of – white vinegar and… of course, Worcestershire. I couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Wow. Impressive.”

Despite his face being inexpressive, he looked kind of satisfied when I pronounced this word. I smiled again, he politely greeted me, walked away and disappeared behind the automatic doors. Two minutes before the closing.

Never in my boring life had I ever met such a singular customer. Not that it was unpleasant, on the contrary: not only had he saved me from my monotonous Thursday evenings, but I also liked our unique interactions.

No need to say this man was in my mind every shift I worked. My stupid brain even started nicknaming him. From then on, he would be Mr. Worcestershire and I was looking forward to seeing him again.

To my disappointment, he didn’t come back the next week and my Thursday shift was longer than ever. I didn’t even know why I was that upset: what was I expecting from a man I had only met twice ? Not everyone goes shopping every week anyway. Still, it felt like something was missing.

Fortunately, he quickly showed up again: same day, same time. Seeing him at my desk brightened my evening and I greeted him thoughtlessly:

“Mr. Worcestershire! Long time no see!”

Crap. I felt stupid again. What was I thinking, calling him by that dumb nickname out loud? I blushed in shame, expecting him to be offended; but he just raised an eyebrow, half-surprised, half-embarrassed, hundred percent serious.

“It must be a mistake," he told me. “My name’s Aloïs Marshall.”

I hushed for almost a minute, taking the time to swallow my shame and the fact that he had totally missed the point. Maybe it was for the better.

“Catherine Harris,” I bounced back. “But Cat’s more than enough!”

“Nice to meet you, Cat.”

What I read as a slight smile surprised and pleased me at the same time. Maybe he liked our interactions too.

The next few weeks seemed to prove my point. Aloïs stopped coming twenty minutes early, but twenty-five then thirty so we would have more time to chat. I learnt he had just passed the bar and was planning to become a lawyer. He liked clocks, played piano, had a brother and a kitten.

It wasn’t much information – to be honest, it was most of the time just me sharing my day and him quietly listening – but I was grateful to know them. This man looked distant, secretive and obviously wasn’t a talker: seeing him gradually open up had something soothing. After our weekly small talks became an established routine, my impression of bothering him and talking too much completely faded away.

Then came this Thursday when something obviously looked wrong. I was waiting for my only, faithful eight pm customer and as time went, I honestly thought he would not show up. But he did, twenty minutes late.

Late? I would have never thought Aloïs was physically able to be late. He was in a rush, almost running in the alleys, looking completely lost although he was supposed to know the store like the back of his hand. When he reached the checkout, I noticed his shirt collar was unusually loose, his hair tousled and his skin pallid.

“A-are you okay?” I asked, worried.

“Yes,” Aloïs’ tone was tense, almost cold.

His shaking voice troubled me even more but I did not dare insist. He turned his eyes away from me, said no more words, we didn’t chat and he left in a hurry.

After his hasty departure, it took me almost a minute to be able to move again. Something serious was going on but I didn’t know what nor how to help.

I inhaled and shook my head. For the moment, the priority was to close the shop. Despite my trouble, I think I managed to complete the work without forgetting anything. But as I was on my way to leave and lock the store, a loud noise surprised me. A smashing sound coming from the parking lot.

I scurried outside to find a car had just hit a pole full force and I ran into its direction. Just as I feared, Aloïs was behind the wheel and looked completely distressed. He lowered the window as soon as our eyes met.

“Are you hurt?” I yelled in panic.

“No. Just a big scare," he sighed and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

“I’d never have thought you were that bad as a driver,” I joked to relax the atmosphere.

“I’m not,” Aloïs defended himself. “This is just not my day.”

I looked him in the eye. Here we were. First, that troubled attitude. Next, a car accident.

“What happened?”

He didn’t reply right away and simply lowered his head. He was close to tears and his exhausted expression broke my heart. His shoulders stiffened and he shivered.

“You can talk to me,” I insisted.

“My brother’s in the hospital,” he said abruptly, all of a sudden.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. “Is his life at risk?”

“Not anymore, I think. But I’m not allowed to see him yet.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

I raised an eyebrow, wondering how he could’ve taken this at face value. But it was not the question.

“Anyway, I have to go,” Aloïs concluded before he put a hand on the parking brake.

“Wait. No, no, no,” I objected. “You’re not driving. Not in that state.”

“I can do it. Leave me alone,” his voice cooled down.

“You can’t! I assure you that if you start this car again, the next thing you hit won’t be a simple parking pole.”

Aloïs gritted his teeth and looked straight in my eye. Deep inside, he knew I was right and it angered him.

“I can drive you home,” I offered. “I just want to make sure you’re alri–”

‘’No.”

I was surprised by his expeditive tone and by the following sigh. He stayed silent a few seconds then started again:

“First, I don’t like to bring people near my house. Second, I don’t want to come home tonight.”

“Why?”

“I…” his voice shattered.

He probably felt embarrassed by the heartbroken compassion in my eyes because he instantly looked away.

“It’s nothing,” he pretended. “It’s just… Home feels empty without him. And I will lose my mind if I see that bathtub again. I haven't cleaned it up yet."

I didn’t understand which bathtub he was referring to and what it even meant, but of course home felt empty. How hadn’t I thought about it before? Aloïs was left alone and absolutely not in the mental condition to be.

“Just come to my place then,” I said without thinking further.

“What?” his eyes opened wide like he wasn’t taking me seriously.

“I mean, there isn’t much space,” I added, “but I have pizza. And Netflix.”

He laughed nervously and remained silent for a few never-ending seconds. He seemed to hesitate, carefully considering the suggestion.

"It's no use. I don't want to bother."

"You won't. And you need company."

He paused to look at me with a baffled expression, like he would never have expected me to care.

"Alright," he finally surrendered.

"Okay, " I sighed in relief, "just park that car while I check the store one last time. We'll use mine."

Once finished, I turned the car on and we left in silence. Aloïs didn't utter a single word during the whole ride; I understood and respected that choice.

When I opened my door, I suddenly remembered I hadn't taken the time to tidy the room before leaving.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, "it's a bit messy…"

But Aloïs wasn't listening and didn't even notice. His eyes were fixed on the wall.

"Nice clock," he commented.

I just smiled and invited him to settle down. He nearly collapsed on the couch and our first fifteen minutes were just him breathing in silence, eyes closed, trying to pull himself together.

“Pizza?” I offered when he finally seemed able to think clearly.

“Please,” he answered in a bashful voice after a way too long hesitation.

From then on, I think we kind of had a good time. Aloïs talked less than usual but looked a bit more relaxed, wrapped up in my softest blanket. The TV was on but mostly to serve as background noise since we were not really watching. A documentary on marine life was broadcasted.

“Whales scared me when I was a child,” I recalled. “I thought they were big enough to swallow all the water and we would die of thirst. It's ridiculous,” I giggled.

“Oh, not that much. I get the logic. Honestly,” he added, “you’d probably laugh if I told you what scared me as a child.

“What? Tell me! I want to know!” I fidgeted on my seat, excited by curiosity.

Aloïs turned around, looked straight at me and replied in a very serious voice:

“Cashiers.”

I almost choked. He was making fun of me, wasn’t he?

“Is there an innuendo or something?” I smiled.

“Absolutely not. And it makes the situation kind of ironic.”

“I-indeed. And why did they scare you ?”

“That’s a stupid story,” he whispered and pressed his knees onto his chest. “I was eight when my mother sent me shopping on my own for the first time. It made me anxious: big noises, lots of people. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to say at the checkout so my mother wrote me a note and I learnt it by heart. They may ask you if you want a bag and you’ll say ‘No, thank you.’ Then you’ll say goodbye and wish them a good day.

But things didn’t go as planned. The cashier forgot about the bag and just went, like, ‘Have a good day’, to which I instantly replied ‘No, thank you’. Then I froze and stood still for almost a minute.”

I couldn’t stop smiling. The fact Aloïs was telling this story in a perfectly neutral tone and sounded like a fucking voice-over made it even funnier.

“And then? What did you do?”

“I cried.”

“Oh my, oh my,” I exclaimed, “what a pure soul!”

“No need to say our mom sent my brother instead the next time. I never wanted to come back again.”

“It was hilarious,” I laughed out loud.

“Don’t laugh. It’s been seventeen years and I still feel ashamed.”

He sounded a little more light-hearted and it felt nice. Perhaps inviting him was the best thing to do after all.

“Do you think I’m scary?” I teased him, thinking about his jolt the first time we talked.

“I’ve seen worse.”

Aloïs’ eyes shut and silence slowly came back. In no time he had fallen asleep on the couch, still in his suit, his cheek squashed on the armrest. It wasn’t even half past ten yet; but his last concerns probably had been exhausting so I left him alone and went to bed as well.

The next morning, I got up early to attend school and found him awake, standing in a corner. His hair and shirt were arranged and he was probably waiting for me before leaving.

After a brief exchange of courtesies, I led him to the door. He was staring at me with his usual seriousness.

“Thanks for the invite,” he said. “I’d never have thought I’d have a good time, but I did.”

I opened then closed my mouth within two seconds, not knowing what to answer. What kind of a compliment was that? It had at least the advantage of being honest.

“How can I thank you?”

I shook my head.

“You don’t have to. Just take care of yourself. And of your brother, of course.”

Aloïs nodded, waved me goodbye then walked away without a word.

Despite an extremely busy week, I still had him in mind the whole time. Not only because of our pleasant evening, but also out of concern. I had no way to know if his brother was alright and how he was dealing with the situation. Waiting was my only option.

When our daily meeting finally came, I was reassured to see him on time, perfectly arranged and back to his routine. I almost pounced on him when he greeted me:

"How's your brother?"

"Better," he replied with less emotion than expected. He left this morning. Thanks for caring."

"Great!" I shouted in relief.

Aloïs kept quiet, looking ahead. He appeared a bit nervous but not the anxious way. Kind of… embarrassed? I secretly hoped I hadn’t offended him in any way that night, but I didn’t dare ask what was wrong.

Once the groceries stowed in his backpack, he turned around and expeditiously placed a huge paper bag on the desk.

“‘re you go,” he muttered, “good evening.”

And he did not leave the store this time: he practically escaped, scampering in a hasty and awkward way. I hadn’t had the time to stop him nor to get a single word.

I was completely stunned and blinked in misunderstanding, until that mysterious bag finally intrigued me. If Aloïs had left it here, it was probably for me to open so I didn’t think any further and just went on.

What I found inside was the last thing I would have expected. A cuckoo clock. Why the hell would this man leave his fucking clock on my desk? Confused, it took me quite a bit of time to notice the note left on the bottom of the bag.

I made this for you. Thanks for the evening. See you soon.

My eyes opened wide and I instantly blushed. Wow. Wow. He’d made this? For real? For me? Taking a closer look at the clock, I found out it was hand-carved and had hundreds of precise little details. It was astonishing to think Aloïs had crafted such a piece in less than a week, and the efforts it probably had taken touched me as much as the attention. I didn’t even know he had any skills in watchmaking, and it was incredibly sweet despite the note being so distant it sounded like a telegram.

Just as my amazement was about to dissipate, nine pm rang and the clock struck. When the trap door opened I was expecting a bird to appear but it was not. It was a Cat.

I laughed out loud, out of amusement but also because of a heartwarming joy. I had never received such a singular yet magnificent gift. I absolutely loved it and it was, to be honest, the first time a guy ever thanked me for pizza night with a timepiece.

When I went home I hung the clock on the wall, right above the couch Aloïs had slept on the week before. It looked perfect and I couldn’t wait to see him again so I could express my gratitude.

But before we met again, in the middle of the week, something distracted me. Or should I say someone. Weird Customer Number Two.

Late in the evening again, a man entered the desert grocery store. I couldn’t have not seen him: partly because there was no one else around here, but mostly because of his looks. His aquamarine sidecut was curled like he’d just got out of bed and he was floating in exceedingly oversized clothes, so colorful it looked like a whole family of parrots was grieving.

He wandered in the alleys for a few minutes emitting a strange, conflicting aura. Like a ghost who'd have been in agony for centuries but in an extremely cheerful way.

His shopping didn’t take long and he quickly came up to me.

“Hi. Do you sell cigarettes?” he asked while putting his articles on the conveyor belt.

I thought it was a joke at first so I just chuckled, but when the man gazed at me in silence for a few seconds, I understood he was serious.

“Sir, this is a grocery store.”

“Oh, true. I forgot it wasn’t food.”

I raised an eyebrow. What had I just heard?

“You’re not supposed to eat cigarettes, I think.”

“Did I just say that out loud?” he moaned in a low, troubled voice. “Forget about it, you didn’t hear anything.”

I nodded and acted like nothing had happened. We were both embarrassed now. I tried to keep my eyes away so he wouldn’t feel judged, but an iterative feeling pushed me to look at him again and again.

His face was oddly familiar. It was just like I had known this guy for a while but it was impossible. I would have remembered a person that… eccentric. Maybe an old classmate with a whole new appearance?

“Excuse me,” I timidly asked, “have I seen you before?”

“Probably on the news,” he answered without hesitation. “I’m a serial killer.”

I burst out laughing when a large smile spread across his emaciated face. Okay, good one.

“Seriously,” he resumed, “you must mistake me for my twin brother. He comes here every Thursday.”

“Aloïs!” I screamed like it was evidence.

Of course. Of course it was Aloïs he reminded me of. How could I have been so stupid? Behind his round pink tinted glasses, the man had the exact same odd-coloured eyes and identical facial features. But to be honest, everything else was different.

“You know his name?” he exclaimed.

“Sure. We’ve been chatting for months, he came to my place once and he gifted me a clock last week!”

“Dear Lord, it’s a fucking miracle.”

He faked a dramatic, exaggerated faint then slammed his fist on the conveyor.

“This idiot has a friend and he never told me!”

“We-we’re friends?” my face turned red.

If Aloïs and I were starting to get a bit closer, he had never referred to me as a friend and I had no idea if he counted me as such or not.

“Come on!” his brother rolled his eyes. “Do you think someone like Al' would trust you enough to stay at your house if you were not his friend? And would he build a clock just for you?”

“You’re right,” I smiled.

This simple statement was so sweet it brightened my day. Aloïs’ brother on the contrary, seemed quite upset that he'd never ever mentioned me. Was it that surprising?

“Don’t hold it against him,” I begged. “He’s not very talkative.”

“Wow, you're good with euphemisms!" he clapped his hands with a sarcastic grin.

We both laughed and when the guy negligently leaned on the cash desk, I realized his manners were the opposite of Aloïs’. It was probably the reason I hadn’t recalled why he looked so familiar. This, and the long aqua hair.

“So you two are twins? I would have never guessed!”

"People rarely do," he shrugged. I'm the Evil One, by the way. Name's Ezra."

"I'm Cat!"

We exchanged a warm smile. Without even knowing why, I already liked this guy.

"How come both of you always do groceries that late?" I suddenly wondered. "Is that in your genes or…?"

"Aloïs likes quiet places and we both hate people."

"Legit."

I proceeded to the checkout and Ezra just carried all his items in his arms, an approximate and careless way. Seeing how disorganized he was, it was hard to believe he had Marshall blood.

"I'm glad I finally met you," I admitted when he was about to leave. "Aloïs mentioned you at least twice."

"What a record!" he laughed. "Buuuuut…"

Ezra paused to stare at his rainbow painted nails in a sassy way.

"You want to make him talk?" he asked with an evil smirk.

"Why did you say that like an anime villain?"

"Because I'm a serial killer."

"Oh, of course," I giggled. "And yes, I'd like him to talk a bit more."

"Just ask him how an eighteenth century watch works then," Ezra revealed. "But never do that just before you close. It'd take hours and you may want to have a seat."

I thanked him. Noted. It would probably help, yet an issue remained.

"When could I ask him then?" I complained in disappointment. "I only see him after half past eight after all."

"Oh! True," Ezra realized. "Well, he'd kill me if I shared his contact without asking, but I can give him yours if you want."

My eyes brightened. "You'd do that?!"

"Of course. I love chaos."

"Oh my God, thanks a lot!" I shouted before giving my phone number.

He wrote it down and blinked at me.

"One last piece of advice: if you like his company, just tell him."

"What?" I scratched my cheek in confusion. "Is that necessary? I thought it was obvious…"

"Trust me, nothing's ever obvious enough for this guy."

With a cynical smile, Ezra glanced at the clock, took his articles back and waved me goodbye.

"This idiot better tell me everything tonight or Cain is back to town," I heard him mumble when he passed the door.

If I hadn't had an urgent task to complete, I wouldn't have moved for at least three minutes. I had chatted with this man for less than a quarter of an hour, but it felt like I'd just been blown by a hurricane. 'Guess it was the Marshall Effect.

What a pair, I told myself. What a fucking pair.

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reticen · 1 year

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I’ve been told that grief isn’t linear.

Music used to ring differently. Don’t you remember?

The vibrations are different now.

And the fucking Earth is about to burn down all around us.

[You met me at a very strange time in my life.] …Queue the Music

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jwj212 · 1 year

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cataloguing of major events in my life that effected me to be turned into a large series of posts made occasionally

One thing that truly effected me as a person was definitely Counter-Strike: Source. This game gave me experiences that changed me in so many ways and I plan to write about them here.

Counter-Strike: Source, or CSS for short, is a game that was released by Valve Software in 2004. The game was just meant to show off the Source Engine and bring Counter-Strike into the new generation: but it was not accepted by all. Many thought that CSS was too different from its predecessor and can behave strangely at times compared to the old engine. While many switched over, some found it too arcade like to consider playing so they held off until the release of Counter-Strike: Global Offensive in 2012.

My story with Counter-Strike starts much later on than that, however. My story begins around 2016, when I had first truly started exploring the Steam Store. One vibrant summer day I was inside my house on the family computer, browsing. It was at some point that I noticed the Valve Complete Pack on sale for eight dollars. I mean, hell I loved Portal 2 and Team Fortress 2 so why not get all of their games. I continued to sit on this pile of games until I got into another game, Counter-Strike: Global Offensive. This game got me into the gameplay loop of Counter-Strike and helped me get a feel for the games. Eventually after enough CSGO I decided to try out CSS. This game I found, with its superior bhopping movement was very enjoyable compared to CSGO.

After I began to play CSS I joined many servers, from a gungame server populated only by bots, or a hectic server on inferno. There would always be something to play in those early days. The main draw for me though, was most certainly the bhopping. To simply explain, bhopping is when you strafe back and forth in the air while consistently jumping to gain speed. Many different levels were created with this movement in mind, allowing you to navigate wondrous terrain, or challenge others times on the leaderboard.

This first era leads us to the point that I met Frozen. Frozen was a character, to say the least. He was twenty-three when I met him and living by himself. We met on a KawaiiClan bhop server and began talking from there. Over the next 2 days I did not sleep and I stayed in a call with Frozen. While getting to know him, Frozen revealed to me that he had recently gone through a breakup and might lose his job due to his bad mental state. He never directly stated anything about ending his life but after we logged off he deleted his accounts and completely disappeared two days later. This interaction was my first major completely online "friendship" and it set the stage for me being able to befriend people on the internet.

The second era comes a few years later, I had played intermittently throughout the summers off of school but was not as nearly invested as I was prior to then. That was when, while playing CSGO, planning to play all of the maps in the competitive pool, I met someone on our first match. At the start of the night me and my friend had just loaded into a map named cs_office. This map was disliked by many, but loved by some, mostly those who also play CSS. I was one of the ones who loved the map and my friend I was queuing with was a hater. But that day the map would present us one of the greatest rewards ever, a friendship. In that game we met another very talkative player who also happened to be incredibly good, even though we were in low rank lobbies. He explained to us that he was playing Counter-Strike for years, even as a young child. He went on to tell us how he had just picked up competitive matches again. Once we reached the end of the game, he agreed to queue with us. After that night had finished we formed a new joke team for CSGO named the Cum Strikers.

While this may have nothing to do with CSS yet, Sam, or as we knew him at the time, wowloop, is an integral piece in the story about CSS. In any case, continuing on, eventually as we played and wowloop continued to improve he eventually ended up in the player cheater review due to his absurd skill for his ranking. Eventually a real person watched his replays and decided that he was cheating, thus he was banned permanently. Once we realized that we could no longer enjoy CSGO we moved on to CSS.

Being around Christmas time I introduce Sam to a server I had played on in previous years, from the depths of CSS. Its name changed frequently depending on the time of year, but every time I would play it would be set to full winter mode. Throughout our time playing on the Christmas themed maps we grew a deep connection as I was force trained like a Pokemon against one of the greatest Counter-Strike players of all time. Eventually that time faded and it was the year where both me and Sam's schools were gone for COVID. This led us to all be in a server voice channel talking about school for entire days. Every single weekday we would log on at 8 AM and talk all day. This single interaction spawned many different things that too effected me. The people that were friends with Sam in real life were fucking insane.

Continuing on through 2020 and the whole COVID-19 shabang we began to play CSS more in the absence of proper school. As we began our fully virtual years we would often convene to game together and play plenty of CSS. In this time I began to heavily play on AWPClan servers, particularly the 24/7 Office Map Server. I would spend whole nights on that server, eventually I used clipping software to make a video of one of these nights.

youtube

This is that first Counter-Strike video. This single video spawned a whole series of clips of me and Sam playing CSS. By talking to him and learning how to play the game I formed a nearly real bond with some random internet demon. There were many other major things that just talking to Sam changed about me, but the increased Source gameplay is the one that matters today.

Eventually Sam came across a server, marking the beginning of the third major era. The AWP Bhop Era. The new server was insane to us, we had never seen anything like it. It was AWP fighting maps that usually consisted of side strafes and a middle fort now had full power rocket auto bunny hopping and no recoil or spread on guns. Every shot had a tracer, and best of all, everyone was just a giant fucking error sign. A red error sign was a terrorist and a blue error sign was a counter-terrorist. AWP Bhop became our complete obsession for the next few months before the creating of the first AWP Bhop which sparked an entire series.

youtube

Our AWP Bhop gameplay advanced to the point of insanity over the next few months, but was stalled later on due to a short visit to the Christmas Server once again. This server was a classic that had to be played every winter, and it was the perfect time as me and Sam were both off of school for a week. Every single morning and 7 AM I would wake up and get on CSS until I went to sleep during that break. We completely changed how we played and new videos were later made due to my increase in skill.

after returning to AWP Bhop we ended up entering a war for points on the server with another faction. This caused the birth of the new clan, (0.0km/h). This was a reference to the speed counters at the end of each AWP Bhop round. We fought for points every day for months until the other clan was defeated and we were victorious. After this turbulent period of warfare the server died off a little. A few months later, disaster would strike.

AWP Bhop was completely closed down. This new development marked the end of the third major era and the beginning of the fourth, current era. The Post AWP Bhop Era. After AWP Bhop closed we lost direction in our gameplay. Every now and again we would play, or make a new video but it was becoming rarer by the day. We had simply moved on after so much time on the game. This was, and still is not the end for CSS in my life. The cycle will continue as we play the game in short bursts for events like the summer or winter where we can freely game. Although those days may be escaping us soon.

In the end, Counter-Strike: Source has been an integral part of my life story. I have conversed with many people over this game, namely Sam. He helped me grow as a person most definitely and made me who I am today, in one way. The early days of playing in my room helped me develop a further aptitude to internet communication after the foundation had been built on Jwsurvival. And this all leads to today, where just a few minutes ago I was playing Counter-Strike: Source with Sam once again.

#rambling #who asked #im high as shit #Youtube

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mychemicalbromide · 4 years

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- I’ll leave you alone forever now - Thanks

Scott Pilgrim vs The World (2010)

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fish-fearme · 2 years

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anyway since i left i got diagnosed with depression that comes to me in waves much like the ocean, so now im taking lithium. whats up with you gays? i heard through the little muskrats blue website that the supernatural guy came out as bisexual in the spanish dub

#gabs.txt #also can anyone tell me why i keep seeing tags i used obsessively in 2014 every time i go to add tags? wasnt this app smarter than this?#‘queue met me at a very strange time in my life’? i killed the last person who said that to me (myself)

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divinegrey · 2 years

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𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 / 𝚟𝚒 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

happy sunday! this is totally inspired by steph gingrich aka my other wife bc life is strange true colors is a fucking fantastic game and you should go play it.

arcane masterlist

prompt: hi! is it possible for u to write abt vi working in a music shop/record shop? she flirts w girls by giving them music recommendations :’) [requested by anon]

words: 970

warnings: vi being hot and flirty

The music shop isn’t really interesting in itself. Sure, you can get any vinyl you want (and you always do, considering you’re a bit of a collector), scope out the radio booth, or look at the range of instruments available for sale. It’s the town's number one stop for anything music-related, but you, a person who can’t play any instrument to save your life, probably go there more often than anyone else does.

Probably because of the worker who runs the place.

Vi. That’s her name. You’ve said it to yourself dozens of times after the first time you met her. She cracked a joke when you pointed out the tattoo under her eye, and even though it was one of the stupidest things you’d ever heard, you couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

So here you are now, pushing open the door to the record shop to peruse at the new stocks they have. It’s relatively quiet— and by that, you mean you’re the only person inside when the bell over the door chimes to announce your arrival. The red light over the booth tells you one thing; Vi’s working the booth with her tunes. You walk over to go look, just out of curiosity.

“So if you want some of the best ice cream in town, ski right over to the doors of Avalanche Ice Cream. It’s winter, so brain freeze is guaranteed,” Vi says into the microphone, headphones over her ears as she recites the ad on the spot. “Up next, we’ve got one of my favorite tunes to educate you young punks about what real indie is.”

A random song starts playing. You smile at Vi when she glances over to see you. She presses mute on her soundboard and hangs up her headphones. A second later, she’s out of the booth and grinning that classic, cocky grin of hers.

“Back for more already? Spending sixty bucks on a collector’s edition vinyl yesterday wasn’t enough for you?” Vi puts her hands on her hips, her clunky docs landing on the floorboards with heavy thumps. You snort.

“You ever think I’m here for something other than vinyls, Vi?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest and raising a brow.

“Oh?” Vi spares a glance behind her back at the booth. “Here for some exclusives? Lucky I like you, Y/N. Come on.”

She takes your arm and drags you into the booth behind her. You stay quiet when she holds her finger up to you, sliding the headphones over her head.

“Alright, hope you all enjoyed that song. I got another one coming right up, some of you might already know this. It’s MAMMAMIA by Maneskin,” Vi says, putting the song on the queue. You hear the high-tempo music play through the speakers. You’re a little impressed, but not really, because you did order the vinyl for this album last week on back-order.

Vi comes over to you, shoulders shifting to the beat of the music. She starts mouthing the words to you, offering her hand. With an eye roll, you placate her by letting her spin you around.

“You wanna handle me, but I'm a bit too much,” Vi sings to the music, a wink tossed your way before she twirls you. “I'll burn all the place down, 'cause I'm too fucking hot!”

Before you realize it, the song’s over and your face might be a little red. You blame it on the impromptu dancing, but really, it might be connected to Vi singing a song about fucking straight to your face. She’s brazen like that, you’ve learned. You listen to her radio station whenever you can and she’s about as flirty as one can get while being a radio host. People dig it. Specifically, the ladies dig it.

“So, you play that song for any girl whose pants you wanna get into, or?” You ask, doing your best to pretend that you aren’t flustered (you are). Vi’s hot. She knows it. She’s confident about it. Probably one of the best things you like about her in the time you’ve come to know her as one of the folks in your little secluded town in buttfuck nowhere.

“Only the ones I like,” Vi replies, pressing a random button to queue another song. She turns to you. “So? Did it work?”

“Technique was rusty,” you retort.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Vi replies, tossing her hair to the side. Some strands fall out of the messy bun she must’ve thrown it in this morning.

“I’m not easy to please, Vi,” you reply. Vi huffs.

“Not a problem for me. I can take my time,” Vi says, accented by a wink. The silver of her nose ring glints in the low lighting of the radio booth. She raises her arm and puts it over your head against the wall. “How about it, cutie?”

“Take me out to dinner, then we’ll see,” you say. Vi’s mouth curls up in a grin, and despite all of her bravado, you know this one is genuine. The wrinkles by her eyes speak volumes. You lean up and give her a kiss on the cheek before patting it. “Get back to work, slacker. Meet me at the bar tonight, seven o’clock.”

“The one on the end of Main street?”

“You know it. See you then, Vi. Don’t be late,” you say, pushing her off of you. You step out of the radio booth.

Vi puts on her headphones. “This one goes out to all the pretty girls but for me, one in particular. Here’s Beauty, by LOVE SUPREME.”

You listen to the song as you walk out of the shop, a broad smile on your face with the promise of a date with the hottest woman in town. How’s that for scoring the bag?

~~~~~

A/N: i miss steph gingrich

#vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #vi x you #arcane vi #vi #arcane vi imagines #arcane netflix #arcane imagines #arcane

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mountswhore · 3 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 — jack grealish

summary: jack meets his celebrity crush at a festival, having no idea you felt the same about him.

notes: requests are open, just ask <3

for @stephspurs

It was no secret that you were his celebrity crush. It was the topic of almost every interview he had.

“So, you’re not shy when posting about Y/N Y/L/N, are you?” The interviewer would ask, Jack letting out a cackle as he reshaped his hair.

“No,” he laughed again, feeling the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose go warm, “no, she’s gorgeous. She’s been my celebrity crush for years. It’s annoying because a lot of the England boys have met her before I have.”

“Well she definitely knows who you are,” the interviewer replies, watching Jack get all flustered at that statement, “she had her ‘Grealish’ England shirt on when we interviewed her on tour.”

You’d been a huge fan of football for years — it being a family tradition to watch the national games together. But with your busy musician schedule, you could only watch backstage before a performance, or on your way to sound check. You’d seen some interviews of some of the England squad, stumbling upon a Jack Grealish one. It was well-known in your close friend group that you had the hots for him, he was gorgeous. And they’d gifted you a Grealish shirt to take on tour with you.

“The way Mount goes on about her, I’d think they have a thing.” Jack admitted to the interviewer, laughing off his statement.

“She said during her interview that she hoped to see some of the squad during Wireless this summer.” Jack’s heart almost stopped, an opportunity to finally meet you had arose.

“I’ll have to book some tickets then.”

And here he was. In London, staying in a hotel room with a few of the England boys in time for Wireless this weekend. Three days of music, having fun, and trying to meet you.

“Jack, mate, you’re sweating.” Jesse observed, grabbing a can of deodorant from the bathroom counter. “Are you really that nervous about this festival?”

“No, he’s nervous about running into Y/N Y/L/N,” Mason poked at Jack’s arm, all the boys collectively laughing at Jack’s rare shyness. Mason, Jesse, Declan and Marcus had all met you before, so Jack was the only one of the group who was yet to meet you.

“He fancies her big time.” Marcus joked, although he was completely telling the truth. Any man with half a brain could figure that one out. “Let’s go. We’re gonna be late.”

“Do you think I should try messaging her? Do you think she’ll see it?” Jesse wondered, reaching for his phone from his crossbody bag.

“She’s probably getting ready, so no.”

Jesse, who didn’t listen to Marcus as he spoke, still tried dm’ing you.

Can’t wait to see your set today. Got the boys with me.

The festival wasn’t a far walk from their hotel, and soon enough they were in. Walking around and getting familiar with the place, the group had made their way to your stage. You wouldn’t be performing until the next hour, and Jack was clearly antsy. He’d been in the company of pretty girls before, but you were different.

That’s so sweet, come to the celeb area after my set and I’ll hang out with you guys, Jesse read the message aloud, the boys patting him on the back and cheering.

“Guess you’ll be meeting your boo thang after all.” Jesse joked, throwing an arm around Jack and bringing him closer to the front of the stage.

The group watched you perform, the crowd jumping along with you. You definitely knew how to entertain a crowd. But once your set was done, the boys were headed to the celebrity area as planned. You’d taken a while to come out, your friends coming out beforehand to greet them and say you were just cooling down.

And there you were. You looked like the physical embodiment of magic. You smiled at the boys, embracing them all and finally getting to Jack. Your friends were taunting you all day about your footballer crush who was going to be watching, and embracing him felt perfect. Like a task was now complete.

“Did you guys watch my set?” You asked, sitting on the couches and grabbing a drink from the table opposite you. The four boys were squashed onto a couch opposite you, engaging in conversation with you and your friends.

“We were in the front row.” Mason laughed, making you all the more nervous.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I tend not to look at the closer crowd, it makes me so nervous.” You admitted, playing with your various rings.

The boys had been laughing and joking with your friends for a while, and it was so strange to see Jack up close. Good, but strange.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Jack stood up, stretching his legs and giving you a glance.

“I’ll join you.” You mentioned, standing up and following him out to the main crowd.

You both walked towards one of the vendors, selling all sorts of food and drinks, waiting in the stupidly long queue. Jack was so much taller than you, it was intimidating. But he’d often look down and you and smile cheekily. “You’re a lot taller in real life.”

“And you’re a lot smaller,” Jack commented, the pair of you laughing, “it’s so weird to meet you in person. I’ve been following you on Instagram for like two years. The boys keep teasing me about it.”

“Why do they tease you?”

“I may have a massive crush on you.” Jack suggested, looking up at the oddly shaped clouds as you processed what you’d heard.

“I may have a massive crush on you, too. My friends even bought me a Grealish England shirt.” You confessed, reddened as you covered your face with your hands. All you heard was Jack’s laughter and his arm on your shoulders.

“That’s adorable,” he conceded, retracting his arm back to his side. All the sheepishness had dissolved, and now confident Jack was back. You made him feel so comfortable and he loved it.

Once you’d retrieved your drinks and made your way back to the celebrity area, you stopped in your tracks. Jack had turned to face you, a look of concern on his face. “What’s up?”

“This is gonna sound bold. And you can totally say no, but do you wanna go for a proper drink tomorrow? Or some food? I’m tired of American food.” Jack grinned at your proposal, nodding vigorously.

“Sounds good.”

#jack grealish x reader #jack grealish smut #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish blurb #jack grealish #jackgrealishblurb #jackgrealishfluff #grealish imagine #grealishblurb #grealishfluff

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allegra-writes · 3 years

Text

"Upside Down Soy Iced Caramel Macchiato"

Aleksander Morozova x Reader

Coffee shop AU

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff.

I usually steer clear from physical descriptions, but this is a special little something for the Decaf Coven, @amayatheowl @cocoamoonmalfoy @seolaseoul and @chaoticpete @bleh-bleh-blehs just this once, this is a brown eyed, brunette!Reader. If you prefer, you can read the Darklina version on AO3

MY MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

"Here, Ivan? Really??" Aleks raised an eyebrow, judgement clear in his voice as he glanced at the sign above their heads announcing the "Brewed Awakening" cafe, a new age, yoga friendly, law of attraction or some other hippie bullshit better suited for sunny, spiritual, hip Shu Han than for gloomy, cold, cynical, spartan Os Alta. And definitely not suited for the coldest and most cynical of Os Alta Business men, Aleksander Morozova.

Ivan shrugged, his stoic face carefully blank, as always.

"Fedya likes it. And they make a mean cold americano"

Aleksander let out an sceptical scoff, but followed his friend inside, there was no time for arguing and no time to look for another coffee shop, their next deposition beginning in less than twenty minutes, so he would have to, as Fedyor would say, suck it up. He was under no delusions about the quality of the coffee offered at this place, in his experience, these kind of venues were far more concerned with decorations and ambience than with the grounds they used.

Sure enough, the interior of the cafe looked like something out of a magazine, mismatched wooden chairs and tables artfully combined, royal blue couches on top of white plush rugs creating little cozy conversation spaces, empty cages hanging from the ceiling, candles in every available surface…

There was a small queue in front of the mahogany counter.

"Maybe we should leave, we'll be late"

"Non sense" Ivan replied, "if we have to sip our coffee on the way back, it will still be worth it, trust me"

Aleksander was about to protest, but the words died in his throat when a costumer stepped aside, and he saw her: Dark hair piled on a messy bun atop her head, warm coffee eyes and a smile that seemed lit up the entire shop, if not the entire city.

His mother had told him legends when he was a little kid, fairy tales about the Grisha, seductive creatures of supernatural beauty that could control the elements at will, often leading men to their downfall with their bewitching wiles. As he watched her, shinning brighter than the golden Firebirds painted on the wall behind her, there was no doubt in Aleksander's mind that this girl was one of them, a sun witch, like Sankta Alina, who had bravely walked into the shadow fold and faced the Black Heretic, breaking the spell and turning him back into a man with a true love's kiss.

The girl turned away from them to start making the drink for the guy in front of them.

"Sorry!" She called back, "The other barista bailed on us, so it's just me today. If you can give me five minutes, I'll be right with you"

Ivan made a face, opening his mouth to politely decline, but Aleksander beated him to it.

"No problem, take your time. We're not in a hurry"

Ivan frowned, but Aleksander was technically his superior, so he didn't say anything.

"Really? Thank you-" The girls eyes' met Aleksander's over the pastry display case, and froze, doe eyes making her look pretty much like a deer in the headlights. Aleks' heart skipped a beat.

The girl shook herself,

"Right. What- um… what would you like to order?"

"Just an espresso for me, and an iced americano for my friend" Aleksander announced.

"Zoya wants a soy latte" Ivan reminded him.

"And a soy latte" Aleks repeated, obediently.

"Perfect. I mean, sure, right away. Just let me finish this Macchiato here and I'll… make them. For you."

Aleksander felt bad for the obviously overwhelmed girl, but he would be lying if he said her flushed cheeks and nervous fumbling wasn't the cutest thing he had ever seen.

The time seemed to fly as he watched her, dainty little hands dexterously turning nobs and levers and pressing buttons, until she finally stepped forward, presenting them with two drinks on the counter, but Aleksander only had eyes for her, and the way a single, rebel curl escaped her bun right under his attentive watch. His hand twitched with the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. And maybe, just maybe, cup her face on the way back, stroke those adorable pink cheeks, bring her closer to him, lean in and-

"What is this?" Ivan's stern voice tore him out of his daydream.

"Um, an americano and an upside down iced soy caramel macchiato…" The girl replied, "That- that was your order, right?"

Aleksander's heart twisted inside his chest at the uncertainty in her voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what we ordered" He reassured her quickly, closing his mouth around the straw of his designated cup for good measure. The girl gasped, eyes zeroing on his lips, making the butterflies inside his stomach take flight.

"Delicious" he declared, blindly handing her a bill that the girl distractedly took and stuffed into the register, eyes never leaving his.

Ivan wondered if either of them had realized his boss had just handed her a fifty. Gruffly, he grabbed his drink,

"Well, we should get going now. There's an important meeting and we're already late"

Taking his boss' elbow, he practically dragged him away as the barista girl waved them goodbye.

"See you soon" It sounded like a question. Aleksander threw her a smile over his shoulder,

"Very" he promised. Ivan was starting to think he had made a terrible mistake showing him this place…

…

There was a tall, handsome dark skinned boy next to his barista when he walked into the cafe the next day, poking her in the ribs and telling her something apparently very witty if the way she threw her head back laughing was anything to go by. Aleksander felt the strange impulse to bite his hand off.

However, his unexpected desire for violence left as suddenly as it had arrived, when the sunshine girl spotted him, her face breaking into an impossibly bigger and brighter smile.

"Upside down iced soy caramel macchiato guy!"

Aleksander beamed: she remembered him.

Well, kind of. She still had his order wrong, but to be honest, Aleksander was too happy to care.

"That's me" He laughed, "or, you know, Aleksander, for short"

"Aleksander" She repeated, and he could have died right there and then. His name was probably the most common name in the entire Ravka, but it sounded different from her lips. It sounded special. "I'm Y/N" she offered him her hand to shake. He took it, and swore he could feel sunlight fill his veins where his skin met hers.

"Y/N" he tried it, loving the sweet taste it left in his mouth. Sweeter than yesterday's macchiato. A throat cleared somewhere beside them.

"Right" She seemed to wake from the spell first, "Same as yesterday?"

Aleksander nodded,

"Of course! That was the best iced macchiato I've ever had"

Y/N smiled again, positively glowing as she made her way to the espresso machine.

Yeah, Aleksander could drink overly sweet coffee drinks until he got diabetes, as long as he could see that smile every day for the rest of his life…

#aleksander morovoza #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling #the darkling x reader #fluff #coffee shop au

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thehaitanis · 3 years

Text

𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥: 𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔲𝔶𝔞 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔦 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔶𝔲𝔤𝔲𝔧𝔦 𝔨𝔢𝔫

❮★❯ summary: how will mitsuya takashi and ryuguji ken (draken) act around their crush?

❮★❯ warnings: none, maybe bad writing.

❮★❯ disclaimer: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes. yes i did cry with the war flashbacks in the draken one.

as i said before, mitsuya is one if not the most mature guys in toman. he had to grow up really fast so it is expected that he would be hyper aware of everything that happens in his surroundings so yes, he definitely knows he has a crush on you. he knew of his affections for you the moment he caught himself thinking about you outside school, in every moment he spend alone and even in his own club. the thought of hearing your voice calling his name and seeing your cute face smile because of him got mitsuya all soft inside.

unfortunately, his crush is obvious only to him. he doesn’t want to be too forward simply because he’s afraid he’s going to scare you, besides, he’s terrified of the idea of getting to intense with his actions so he prefers to keep a low profile until he feel it’s safe to show you just how much he likes you.

mitsuya would begin to show his interest the moment you give him signals that you might like him too. that would be his queue to act and the little things that he would do for you at the beginning would make you definitely like him for real. he’s a gentleman, so it’s not weird to see him offering to walk you home, give you a ride or even asking you to be his model for the things he’s making. anything is a good excuse to spend time beside you.

with all the effort he puts into making you feel special only around him it’s obvious that you would guess what’s going on. mitsuya is someone who tends to keep a neutral stance on everything, he doesn’t go out of his way to talk to anyone with who he’s not friends with and would of course ignore everything that’s not important and might get him in trouble but, with you he doesn’t care about that. he doesn’t care that he met you a few months ago because you’re already so special to him that he’s willing to fight for you if you need him to, so please be sure that all his actions come from a genuine interest.

if you do show signs of liking him after all the things he does for you, he would totally confess to you. it wouldn’t be anything too extra because he himself hates that kind of thing, it would be something small but very intimate, something that can show you just how much he already likes you.

draken is completely aware of his crush on you but will he act upon it? no, he won’t. however, that doesn’t mean he’s going to ignore it, he knows he likes you and even if he pretends he doesn’t when he’s in front of you, he always ends up worrying about you and your safety whenever the situation gets out of hand. this refusal comes mostly from the fact that he feels like you deserve something better, someone who’s not in a gang and someone who actually cares for a future that won’t be as dangerous as his. he’s loyal to toman and mikey but that might get in the way if he actually decides to listen to his impulses, his more normal impulses.

like mitsuya, his crush is not exactly obvious but this is because he chooses to deal with it in silence. he can’t seem to show you his affections but he’s still there if you need him, always watching over you and protecting you from anything and anyone that might want to harm you. draken is not used to feel that way so he would probably distance himself from you every now and then in hopes for his feelings to go away. they never go, but he likes to pretend as if they do.

when he is around you everything seems to be more fun. he’s always teasing you in some way. he always surprises himself by smiling at whatever you do. it’s impossible to pretend he doesn’t care about you when you look at him with those eyes and, so far, only mikey’s been able to notice his strange behaviour, meaning that he’s lost because there’s little time until his friend connects the dots.

you won’t find out until he finally gets fed up with everything and decides to tell you. he probably realized that you could be gone any moment now and because he doesn’t want to have any regrets in his life he’s willing to risk it all just to let you know how he feels about you. yes, he will be very harsh about it, yelling out of frustration with himself for taking so damn long but please be sure he’s not mad at you, he’s just an idiot who doesn’t know how to handle emotions.

after he confesses it is probable that he distances himself because he’s afraid he might have fucked that up. he wanted to let you know in a more special way but his feelings got the best of him and well, now it’s your turn to reassure him if you do feel the same as him. but be gentle, he’s on edge and well, he’s still a dumb guy after all.

❮★❯ requests are: closed!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #mitsuya takashi #ryuguji ken #draken

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morganaspendragonss · 2 years

Text

with heart and head you take the edge away (5/?)

yes, two fics today!

this one is for @exesof911week day 1: amicable closure + “regret you? nah. at one point you were exactly what I needed.”

ao3 | 1k | fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, married tarlos, closure

TK had always known this would be a possibility, but he’s still surprised when a familiar voice greets him in Central Park.

“TK?”

TK looks up, shocked, his eyebrows climbing into his hairline at the sight of Alex before him. He looks good, happy, but there’s more than a hint of nervousness in his posture, his hands shoved into his pockets and his weight constantly shifting from one foot to the other. It’s strange, seeing him again after all these years; he seems so different to the Alex TK had once known, yet exactly the same.

TK blinks back his surprise and smiles, standing and holding out his hand. “Alex, hey,” he says. He’d wondered what it would feel like to meet his ex again, but, as their hands connect, TK realises that there was nothing to really wonder about. It’s like remeeting an old friend or acquaintance—pleasant, but beyond that…uneventful.

Still, Alex is lingering, smiling expectantly, so TK spares a glance over to where Carlos and Isaac are still stuck in the ice cream queue, then waves at the bench he was sitting on.

“Have a minute?”

Alex grins and his entire body seems to relax as he nods. “Definitely.”

The silence between them is only semi-awkward as they sit side-by-side, not quite touching. But it’s enough to set TK’s anxiety tingling, so he casts about desperately for something to talk about.

“How have—”

“So, what’s—”

They laugh, Alex running a hand over his face. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head. He hesitates a moment then, when TK nods for him to go first, continues, “I just wanted to ask how you’ve been. Austin, right?”

TK nods. “Ever since I left, yeah. I love it there. It’s home.”

“So you’re happy?”

“More than,” he responds, gaze drifting over to Carlos again. “I hated it at first, but I think moving there was the best thing that could have happened to me. I love my crew, I love my job—oh, yeah! I’m a paramedic now, switched about a year after we moved.”

Now it’s Alex’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “But you loved being a firefighter.”

He chuckles lightly. “What I loved was my dad,” TK corrects. “I loved having him in my life for once. But the job… Firefighting was never my choice, not really, but being a paramedic was. It’s what I was meant to do.”

“I’m glad,” Alex says, and he sounds truly sincere. “And, uh…” He pauses and laughs nervously, then nods to TK’s left hand. “Not to be that guy, but you met someone?”

It’s phrased as a question, but the answer is obvious. TK can’t help but grin as he looks between his wedding ring and Carlos, his heart doing that funny little flip, even after all this time.

“Yeah,” he says softly, gaze still fixed on his husband. “His name’s Carlos. We met pretty much right after Dad and I got to Austin, but it was a few months before I pulled my head out of my ass enough to realise I’d be an idiot to turn him down. We married two years ago.”

Alex must follow TK’s line of sight, because, “He’s handsome,” he remarks, then jerks in his seat. “And you have a kid?”

The misunderstanding is common enough that it doesn’t surprise TK, but he laughs anyway, broken out of his lovesick trance and drawn back to Alex. “No, that’s Isaac,” he says. “My brother.”

Alex’s expression turns comical, his eyes going wide and his mouth dropping open. “You… Your brother?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Okay.”

TK sniggers some more, then interrupts Alex’s confused splutters by knocking their shoulders together. “What about you, anyway?” he asks, gesturing towards Alex’s own ring hand. “You’re clearly…”

He waits, and Alex quickly catches on. “Engaged.”

“Ah.” TK nods and quirks an eyebrow. “Mitchell?” he asks, and he’s proud that there’s not even a hint of jealousy or anger in the word.

Alex laughs dryly. “Nah, we didn’t work out. Don’t get me wrong, he was amazing and I loved him, but after everything that happened with you, I just… I guess I felt guilty? And it messed things up with him—he kept thinking I was still hung up on you or that I would leave him or something—so we broke up. Talk about karma, huh?”

“That sucks.”

“I deserved it.”

The conviction in Alex’s voice takes TK aback and he frowns, reaching over to lay a hand on his knee. “No one deserves that, Alex.”

Alex looks up at him, wide-eyed, then clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I know,” TK says. “I hope this guy treats you better.”

“He does,” Alex says, smile returning. “And, you know. Likewise. Speaking of, looks like your husband will be coming back soon, so I should probably leave before then.”

A glance at the ice cream truck confirms Alex’s statement; Carlos and Isaac have reached the front and are placing their orders. Still.

“You don’t have to,” TK tells him. “You can meet him if you want.”

Alex grimaces. “Better not. Besides, I have to meet my mother soon, and you remember what she’s like.”

“Oh, yeah, then you’d better go.” TK laughs; Silvia Morison is not a woman to be messed with.

“Yeah,” Alex chuckles, but he makes no moves to stand up. “Listen, before I go, can I just ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Did you… Did you ever regret us? Regret me?”

“No.” TK’s answer is instantaneous and without hesitation—maybe he had regretted Alex once, but he knows now that that time was too caught up in heartbreak to see the truth. “I regret some of the choices I made. I regret what I did after we broke up. But regret you?” He shakes his head and smiles. “Nah. At one point you were exactly what I needed. We weren’t right for each other in the end, but it was good while it lasted, right?”

Alex nods and grins back. “Right.” He looks past TK, then stands suddenly. “And that’s my cue. Nice seeing you again, TK.”

And he walks away, and it feels like closure.

“Who was that, babe?” Carlos asks, handing TK his ice cream.

TK smiles up at his husband and reaches out to ruffle Isaac’s hair. “An old friend,” he answers. “Nothing else.”

#exesof911week #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

Hi!

I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

- Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

- The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

- Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

- Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

- The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #leo knut #bookstore/coffee shop au #bewitched body and soul #cw: food #cw: drink

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grasshopperjay · 3 years

Text

lost in your current

evermore series | track 1: willow

wait for the signal and i’ll meet you after dark. show me the places where the others gave you scars.

pairing: jay halstead x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, little bit of angst, mentions of guns, mentions of violence, jay whump, bruises, little bit of steam

Six months ago you never would have thought yourself in this position.

You’re watching Jay walk out of Molly’s, mischief all over that grin of his. People try to pull him back, but he’s resisting, trying to say his farewells as quick as possible.

He’s getting strange glances as he finally makes it out the exit, and you can’t help but smile.

“What’s got him out of here so fast?” Kim questions, and you just shrug, pretending to be clueless, but really, you’re far from it. Your phone is clutched tightly in your hand, all you’re waiting for is his text so you can follow suit.

You fake a yawn and lie about how you’re starting to get tired, swirling the little bit of vodka cran you have left in your glass. Kim rolls her eyes but you just laugh, butterflies starting to erupt in your stomach in anticipation.

When you feel your phone vibrate you down what’s left of your drink and stand. Kim is first to protest and all you can do is laugh, shrugging while you grab your things. You’re wondering how no one has noticed, the two of you haven’t really been all that careful.

Kim puts up minimal fight, rolling her eyes and whacking your bum as you pass on the way out. You poke her hip in return, unable to keep your smile from growing as you step out of Molly’s.

You walk the block over and then finally Jay’s truck is in sight. He’s leaning against the passenger side door, grinning as you get closer.

“Hey stranger,” You say. Jay doesn’t even respond, he just latches on, hands grabbing onto your waist the second you’re in reach.

You chuckle lightly, your palms sliding up and around his neck to return his hug. He releases a content sigh in response and all you can do is laugh more as he squeezes you even tighter.

“You smell nice,” He whispers, and you try to lean back but he leans forward to close the space almost instinctively, like he’s starved for touch.

“What’s gotten into you?” You grin, and one of your hands comes up to rest at the nape of his neck, as if to hold him there so you can get a look at his face. Jay could insist nothing is wrong all he wanted, but you know, he knows, his face can’t hide anything from you. “Tough day?” You ask, concern overpowering the humor in your tone now.

His eyebrows furrow a little but he stills shakes his head, trying to deny it, and that’s the giveaway.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You murmur, and once again he shakes his head.

You wish he wasn’t so dismissive with his feelings sometimes, but you know you can’t fault him for it. It was taught, carved into him like a brand. That stoic nature, the instinct to push away every emotion, it’s a soldier thing.

You know you can’t push him though, as much as you want to. It’ll come out soon enough, so you just nod, trusting that he’ll work it out on his own.

“I just want you.” He whispers, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. His hands slide down to your hips, ghosting around to the back and you almost feel the smirk growing on his face.

“Detective...” You start, “I’m not sure this pat down is necessary. What are the grounds?”

He chokes back a laugh, giving your bum a squeeze before he kisses you.

He opens the back door of his truck, and you give him a look, which he returns with a wink. “You’re not even gonna take me home first, Halstead?”

“Round one here, cause I can’t wait,” He starts, lifting you into the backseat. “And round two, three, four and five at home.”

“Ambitious,” You return, pushing yourself further back into his truck. He follows, barely shutting the door before he’s pulling you onto his lap.

He kisses you hard, his grip on your waist tight as he tugs you further into his body, trying to get you as close and possible. Your hands wander down, pressing firmly against his torso to feel the ridges of his abs under your palm, but when he freezes, and sucks in a breath against your lips, you pull back immediately.

He winces, queueing a curious look from you. Jay gives you a look you’ve seen all too many times, one that says, ‘it’s nothing’, but you shake your head. Despite his reluctance to actually tell you, he lets you lift his shirt over his head.

When you finally see what he’s hiding, you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your gasp. His torso is basically one big bruise, leading to a dense purple spot right below his left pec.

You place a hand timidly over the area, eyes wide with shock and fear, although you can’t decide which is more prominent.

“Did you-,” You’re unable to finish your sentence, even the thought of what you’re pretty sure happened scaring you beyond words.

He was shot.

“It didn’t go through,” He reassures you. “It didn’t go through. I had my vest.” He takes your hand, raising it to his mouth where he places a kiss on your palm. “I’m okay.”

Lie.

“That’s so close to your heart. That could have killed you Jay.”

“But it didn’t.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better though.

“Neither did this one.” Now he places your palm over his left shoulder, where there’s a clear scar from where he was shot before.

You didn’t know him then, and thank god because you’re already this tousled over a shot to the vest, a real hit would be immeasurably painful for not just him. You had met Jay shortly after it happened, and it took maybe a half hour for you to fall head over heals for him. He was way too charming, and sweet, and he was pretty much everything you’d been looking for.

Or so you thought.

It was well into your secret relationship that you saw the effects of his tours, and even his job now. There was obviously some psychological damage, but he refused to talk about it, and you never felt like you were enough of a constant in his life to push.

You’ve kept everything a secret for so long, that even now in this moment you’re not sure if you have the right to push, but you don’t care. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” You demand. “You have to let it out, Jay.”

“I need to digest it first.” He argues, and you can see the pain behind his eyes, you’re pretty sure it mirrors your own. You’re being pushed away again. You start to try and move off of him, but he grabs your forearms, holding you still while he tries to meet your gaze. “But when I’m ready, you’re the only person I wanna talk to, okay?” You nod with a sigh, and he kisses your cheek. “I just need a day or two.”

You press your forehead to his, accepting his answer because it’s further than you’ve ever gotten before. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted but it’s progress.

Your eyes ghost over the scar on his shoulder, and you run your fingers over it, feeling the slight ridge in the skin. “Who did this to you?”

When he chuckles, you lift your head, no hint of a smile on your face. “I’m serious. I’ll hurt them.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” You respond, trying to sound tougher than you actually are, and Jay just grins, his hands rubbing up and down on your thighs. “Gotta protect my man,”

The smile that he gives you in return quite literally melts your insides. He pulls you in for another kiss, and your gravest suspicions are confirmed.

This is an open shut case.

You’re completely in love with Jay Halstead.

But you can tell him that later, right now you’re all in on the way his hands are ghosting up your sides, slowly taking your tank top with them. Your hands drift to his belt, and then you’re stopped in your tracks by 3 loud bangs on the window.

Adam is jumping all over the sidewalk, laughing hysterically as Kevin cups his hands over his eyes to get a good look in the truck. You can hear Kim howling as she says, “I knew it!”

....

taglist: @lorenakaspersen @jayxuptons @toomuchtv95 @halstudandruz @halsteadsway @hart-kinsella @astrosmayhem @life-treatments @dreamingmanip @jayhlstead @sofferderynnp @caromichaela

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jesse lee soffer imagine #jesse lee soffer x reader #jesse lee soffer #chicago pd #chicago pd imagine

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chocolate-teapots · 2 years

Text

Consigliere: Jeon Jungkook

●╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮╭╮●

You’re left to pick up the pieces of a criminal world you

know little about and Jungkook is there to pick up you.

●╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯╰╯●

Warnings: mafia, organised crime, graphic descriptions of murder, altered perceptions of criminal life, mentions of suicide, extreme guilty conscience, guns, shooting, car explosions, gunshot wounds, bodily harm, discussion of religion, corruption, smoking, unfairly hot half Italian Jungkook.

"Comare Romano, benvenuto al potere."

The faces I grew up with flocked into the office, queueing with pride to pay their respects. It was strange having them kiss my hand now, usually, a woman would extend her hand first but I wasn't just a woman anymore.

"Tuo padre sarebbe orgoglioso."

This should be the best moment of my life. No amount of kisses on the cheek or congratulations could change the fact that my family was dead and I was a criminal.

"Grazie, Marcello."

The Comare was the female equivalent of a Don and literally translates as the Godmother. It made sense, the men I was currently surrounded by were all my chosen family, chosen just like you would the godparents of your child.

And the Godmother protects.

It's what we do. It's all about protection, protection for the people who can't go to the police. It wasn't even about the money, if the life was free we wouldn't charge or make business but we gotta all eat somehow.

We just want crime off our streets and...

They were our streets.

"To new beginnings."

They all raise a glass, exchanging glances and a million words but none could quite sum this up. I didn't feel present, I didn't even see who poured me a drink, who put it in my hand or even what we were toasting. But I faked a determined grin and raised my whiskey.

"To new beginnings."

I quickly learnt from a young age that this life wasn't like the movies. In reality, the mafia is your doctor, your lawyer, your teacher, the guy who fixed your car and the guy who sold it to you. It's the everyday people that make it scarier.

Then I was left alone in this room for the first time. It didn't feel mine, didn't feel real. It felt uncomfortably juvenile like putting on your mother's heels when you were a kid. Underneath the sharp clothes and intimidating nonchalance, I was just a girl who missed her father and her brother.

I almost wished that my father was murdered in some dramatic rival assassination just so I'd have someone to blame, somewhere to put all this hate but when he had a stroke the only thing I could do was yell at some poor innocent doctor and punch a few holes in the hospital wall.

My brother Tony, that was fresh. They died within just five days of each other. Suicide. Tony was the perfect heir apparent to the empire, he was rude, arrogant, charming and ruthless. But, it turns out he didn't want it either, didn't feel up to the job.

Why couldn't he have just taken a car and run away? Why did he have to die?

But at least Tony got out when he could. We'd only just buried him and I was already replacing him.

A faint knock at the door makes me straighten in my chair. I can picture the intricate tattoos on his knuckles as he does it.

"Jungkook."

I know it's him since he doesn't bother to wait for an answer, knowing I wouldn't want to see anyone for a long while. He steps in anyway, frame solid and impressive even in the darkness of this room, hair parted and pointed in a way that makes his eyes look even sharper even more dangerous.

"You wanted me?"

I met Jungkook 5 years ago when he was hired by my father and eventually assigned him to guard me specifically since I was so young at the time just like him and related to the most dangerous man in New York. He was a living action man, too strong and capable for his own good. Jungkook would do anything for anyone.

But eventually, he grew to be more than just someone who would throw themselves in front of a gun for me, he was someone who could see through me like I was cellophane.

"We're meeting Jimmy Walker in half, we're helping his mayor campaign. Get the car ready."

Jungkook was quiet, he knew what this meant but still chose to say nothing in case he was wrong. I find it difficult to show affection so I can't say it outright. I have to boss him around until he gets the idea.

"And, keep tabs of Marcello and the rest, I know he won't handle being demoted well. If so much as the first letter of my name comes out of their mouth I wanna know about it."

I carried on, lifting an eyebrow when he still hadn't answered me. He just stood there as solid as a brick wall, hands folded behind his back like a soldier and gaze completely fixed on the space between my eyebrows.

At first, I thought he stood that way because he wasn't comfortable around me but I eventually found out his father used to make him walk around with a mop behind his back and between his elbows, beating him if he started to slouch.

"Y/N, only the Consigliere does the political stuff. I'm just the guy with the gun," he declares more than explains waving his black pistol in the air, wide-eyed at the possibility that maybe he was-

No, he couldn't be.

"I know it's the Consigliere's job that's why I'm asking you to get your coat and get in the car sweetheart."

He wasn't protesting, he was making sure.

"But I'm only half Italian."

"That's true but the fact of the matter is that a Consigliere is the person that I'm meant to trust the most. You think I trust anyone here more than you?" I ask softly and sincerely, standing and pulling out my hair from my coat as if gets tucked inside. He deserved this more than anyone. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him.

Jungkook is a man of very little emotions but even he couldn't fight the grin tickling the corners of his pink lips. It's infectious, makes my chest contract.

It wasn't an unknown thing in my mind that I was in love with him, I admit it to myself every day. This love was the perfect amount of agony and this agony was the only consistent thing in my life so I'd take what I could get. I wasn't sure if he felt the same or if his comforting presence was just out of obligation to my father. Either way, he could never know.

The last boyfriend I had that my family knew about at least I had found 2 weeks after introducing him to them at dinner dead on my kitchen floor, brain blown to pieces and blood stained the entire kitchen floor. I had to get new tiles.

"It would be an honour being by your side."

It's a controversial move but there was no one else I would rather be with than him.

"Good. I wouldn't have taken no for answer anyway."

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█

Jimmy Walker was another sleaze bag politician who was willing to risk his life for his reputation. He was greedy and it was a common rumour that he was taking money from big businesses to switch some health and safety policies around if he ever became mayor.

"Comare Romano, I know how you guys work I just- I don't want this to fall back on me you know?"

Jimmy's nervous, sweating through his cheap beige suit on the other side of his desk. There were pictures on the walls of him and some D list celebrities, they weren't even signed.

When he's done talking Jungkook looks at me and then I know the feeling of disrespect wasn't just 'first day on the job paranoia.'

"It upsets me Jimmy that you make me haul my ass 30 miles over here a couple days after burying my brother, making me listen to your shoddy demands to fix your fucking mess and now you're telling me how to do my job? That you're unsure?"

I didn't think it was possible for a guy to be chilled to the bone and sweating profusely at the same time. Walker is stunned, unable to do anything but try and talk himself out of the grave he had dug himself into.

"Comare, I meant no disrespect to you or your family. I'm just nervous I really want this campaign under my belt and if people find out I turned to you for help, well I might as well resign now."

One of the most important things I learnt from my father was that you had to let the guy finish talking, even if he was disrespecting your mother, so he hears how stupid he sounds by the end of his speech.

And, it didn't take a genius to tell that Jimmy Walker was one stupid asshole.

"Jimmy, they're not gonna find out and even if they do they won't say shit because they know who we are and how to respect us, something you have made no effort to do since I walked into this room," I calmly scold him from my chair and he shrinks under Jungkook's deadly glare.

"I'm doing you a favour here, you're not giving me anything in return. If you think that you running for mayor makes you special and untouchable you're in for a big fucking surprise. I've got guys like you all over waiting to take that stand and all I've got to do is snap my fingers and you're out of the running without a trace."

He swallows.

"Comprendre?"

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█

Anyone else would've killed him but I was a firm believer that you could talk your way out of almost anything, that's what I thought about during the ride home. I sighed, rubbing my pounding forehead in my palm as I look at the window, my eyebrows feeling as though they were quite visually pulsating.

"You know you don't have to put it on in front of me right?"

I look to Jungkook to my left, not realising he'd been staring for a while then at the driver who put up the privacy screen under my watch.

"We need to send Jimmy a message, in case I wasn't clear enough don't you think?"

He hums in thought, pretty big eyes fixed on my knees.

"I don't think you would've left that room if you still thought he didn't get the message."

Jungkook is still careful with what he says which is exactly what I was afraid of. He knew deep down that even though he was talking to me, things were different now and I didn't like that. Maybe he was just tiptoeing for now with this unfamiliar territory. So I push him over the edge.

"You think he spoke to me like that because I'm a woman?"

"I think it's irrelevant," he blurts before he can stop himself. Check.

"I don't kill people. You don't think I should overcompensate?"

I don't kill but I also don't think that makes me above anyone here. Just being related, knowing the things I know and doing absolutely nothing to stop it makes me just as much of a killer as any of these guys.

But, Jungkook killed people every week with his own hands. You could imagine my surprise when he still managed to understand what I was feeling. That's how I know he's the one.

"You don't have to. If you do this right nobody has to die."

No pressure. I looked into his glistening eyes and as usual, found nothing but sincerity and that sharp way he looked at me that I couldn't exactly describe.

"Plus that's why you have me. I get my hands dirty so you don't have to ruin your nails," he jokes, grinning boyishly in the way that makes him 10 times younger and 25 times more attractive.

It was contagious as I also looked down to my lap with a smile, shaking my head at his ability to make me laugh no matter the circumstances. But at the same time, I knew he was right. Jungkook always works alone because he always gets the job done. He was the only reliable and consistent thing about this.

Then I feel his hand over mine on the seat as I look out of the window and I struggle to not look back. He turns my palm over, squeezing it reassuringly with his surprisingly soft fingers and I have to settle for imagining how the black ink looks intertwined with my fingers.

"You can do this Y/N. You can do anything."

It's bittersweet and that perfect agony.

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█

Two weeks go by and I manage to keep my hands relatively clean. People come they ask for things and they go and I had to do very little so far to give that a push. But, I also knew it was only a matter of time, that I'd been very lucky and that this wasn't permanent. This wasn't even half the life and I couldn't get used to it.

The pot began to boil on a late Tuesday dinner with Jimmy Walker, his administrator (aka. his very own consigliere) Johnny Paige, Jungkook and my underboss and my father's best friend Marcello Rossi.

Carpaccio had a sweet little Italian joint around the corner from us and my father did a lot of business there, we had a little money invested in the place too and Carpaccio paid us back in dinner and warm service. I always made sure to leave a little wedge in the pocket of his apron whenever we came in here just like my father did and his father before him.

The guy was family.

"Have you heard Anthony whats-his-name, Aileen's son, Tony Russo that's the guy, he's been asking around for you," Jimmy grins as we engage in casual conversation. At the end of the day, you had to butter up and season the chicken before you cook it.

I'm staring at Jimmy and watching him squirm and pretend as if he doesn't notice it. I'm looking at him like he's my worst enemy, coming into my house going through my fridge and sitting on my couch watching my tv without asking.

"What's that grease ball want now?" Jungkook laughs under his breath his large shoulders shaking, fork digging into his steaming hot Rigatoni by my side. My head always snaps to him when he smiles, like magnetic energy even if it was just a smirk.

"Nobody's hiring him to sing except for weddings."

Between the scraping of forks and spoons against plates, wine sipping, pouring and the quiet ambience of the chattering around us, the laughter of the table could be heard. We were just finishing what I considered a very successful meal but dessert was yet to come.

"Good, it's the closest the guy'll ever get to getting married. Humour him a little," I mumble casually with an unlit cigarette in between my painted lips flicking around.

The table laughed again, louder this time and Jungkook flicked out his lighter and lit my cigarette for me before lighting his own, his jaw sharp enough to cut the bread.

I didn't know if they were laughing so loud because it was funny or because they felt like they had to. Either way, I was distracted by Jungkook's cheekbones every time he inhaled and how plush his lips looked with a cigarette balanced between them.

"Tell him to expect a call from Tucci, I'll get him a slot at Ronnie's as long as he doesn't turn up drunk, again," I say wrapping it all up by putting out my cigarette and getting up on my feet shaking the hands of all the disgusting strangers at the table "Gentlemen, I'm glad we've finally found some middle ground. Best of luck in the election."

I wink at the joke. There was no luck when we were involved.

"Grazie, Comare."

We're walking out, standing in a line and watching the two men getting into their big black town car with smug grins as if they've conquered the world. I light another cigarette watching the car drive away into the late evening musk, the smoke heating up my body more than the thick coat on my shoulders.

The streets were starting to empty as people had long left their work and it was too soon for them to start drinking in the bars. The car reaches the first set of lights before it is engulfed in flames.

My heart jumps but my body is still, fully aware that I was standing close in between two men to whom I had something to prove.

Cars swerve in opposite directions, pulling up at either side of the sidewalk and some even try to approach the car but another sudden cloud of flames makes them think otherwise. The explosions don't stop as if nature isn't quite finished with the two jackasses in the car, not until they're dust.

This was a long time coming but recent events had pushed this plan into furious motion. Jimmy Walker's sorry face was the front page spread of every newspaper in the city in relation to a woman who was murdered shortly after coming forward about bribing in the police since he too had received these same payments. If even a dollar from that cash could be traced back to us we were near finished.

Jimmy Walker was a terrible excuse for a man, that was my reason and I felt like he deserved what he got. I know the others agreed mainly because he was half Irish.

I take a long drag, watching the flames part to reveal the skeleton of the car enjoying how it didn't look as arrogant or tasteless anymore. There were no screams, no blood, you couldn't even see the assholes inside being burned into fatty liquid on the soft leather.

The only thing I can say is:

"Asshole didn't even tip."

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█

I was getting braver, seizing every opportunity I could to prove myself to the rest. It was only a matter of time before this started getting to my head. Ronnie's bar was trashed in a shootout with a couple of amateurs on the outskirts of the city and our own inside. We had to retaliate since it was half-owned by us and Ronnie was a very good friend who paid for protection.

It took less than 30 minutes to find the assholes and it got personal once we found out they were two of Jimmy Walker's old henchmen coming back for one last piece of pie. They sat in the middle of the bar, tied to chairs and gagged while we stood trying to figure out what to do with them.

But, I'd already made up my mind.

Jungkook stepped forward to the task but not even his brows sweetly furrowed or his shape in the tight-fitting clothing he wore could simmer the boiling inside of me. I was being cooked by my fury, it was the disrespect, the audacity that someone has to think they can mess with us.

"Ok, here's the pla-"

Two gunshots.

It was clean and so quick no one even registered what happened until they saw the gun pointed at the slumped bodies and followed it to see me standing unblinking on the other end.

It was quiet again, judgement and unsaid words floating through the air like an overwhelming stench as I put the gun down and walk out. I took care of it like it was nothing.

Because it was.

Jungkook wasn't exactly the biggest supporter of my newfound courage as I had finally ridden myself of my training wheels and decided to go biking on my own. I found him watching me intently, studying my actions as if the way I rubbed my eyes was incredibly meaningful.

It made me angry because of how uneasy it was knowing that the person you trusted the most no longer trusted you.

But importantly, Jungkook had forgotten what his job was and though he was entitled to question my decisions he could in no way shape or form stop them.

Cleaning up the mess of Ronnies was easy. Instead of forking out to repair the place we just pulled an old trick out of the magician's hat and lit the place up and split the insurance. Our cut was currently sitting pretty in the middle of our poker table, blurring in the cloud of smoke that came from all the seats around it.

I was on fire. It was like everyone and everything was on my side as every card I touched brought home the cash despite the fact I was the one who needed it the least. That's not to say I didn't want it. Momentum was fierce and I was just dealing them all in when in walks- no stomps a very angry Jeon Jungkook.

I noticed him walk in as I always do taking a second to look at his arms and chest in his tight black top, a tiny smirk playing on my lips as I look down pretending as if I hadn't seen him at all.

"Y/N."

Oh, he was mad.

"Jeon! We're just starting another round, want me to deal you in?" I call, still dealing the cards and voice slightly unclear with a cigarette in between my lips once more.

"Can I have a word?" his knuckles are white and cut up, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he balls up his fists. I make a point of noticing them as if asking him if he really was thinking about punching me too.

"I'm wiping the floor with these guys, what do you want?"

Jungkook takes another step, heavy boots almost splitting the creaky floorboards.

"Why the fuck was Torelli on the torching job with me?" he yells, voice way over the socially acceptable volume when talking respectfully to a Comare.

So the table goes quiet, the men stop drinking and smoking, their eyes fixed on the rude kid standing before them.

"That sounds an awful lot like a Consigliere questioning the Comare," I warn, one eyebrow-raising as I stop dealing.

"Why? Answer me goddamn it!" he continues to press, anger taking over his every sense.

"Take it easy, kid," Al Vittorio kindly tries to knock some sense into Jungkook but he wasn't having it.

Jungkook always was a stubborn little shit.

"Fuck you Al this doesn't concern you!" he explodes, tattooed finger pointed right at the older man in the comical glasses making the table erupt in muttering scolding madness "Why did you tell him to come along?"

"I thought you could use an extra pair of hands since your fingers are busy stuck in every pie there is around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't be stupid, you know what it means," I pick up my cards and the rest follow as we resume the game showing I have absolutely no desire to address this right now or ever.

"Can we talk?"

I sigh, dramatically slamming my cards face down onto the table before muttering to the group smirking "Gotta go babysit, sorry to ruin my winning streak gentlemen maybe now you actually have a chance."

They all snicker with their heads low in their cards at the black-haired man, mocking him as I made intense glorious eye contact with him. I knew and took great pleasure in the fact that Jungkook hated being made fun of.

I place my hand around the back of his shoulder guiding him away

"Come on we'll talk it out, let's sort this out," I soothe him, pretending that I cared about his stupid problems when really all I wanted to do was play cards.

He almost falls for it until the office door shuts behind him and he's being pushed forcefully into an armchair. He lands with a winded grunt, my sudden strength taking him off guard and he's eyeing my every move as I take the chair opposite him with absolutely nothing between us to stop him from launching at me.

But even through the dark lighting, the dimming sunlight through the blinds lighting up just his electric eyes, you could see traces of fear and apprehension. He knew what I could do to him and he also knew I was no longer myself anymore.

It felt good.

"Who the fuck do you think you are to be talking to me like that? I pay your bills and put food on your table, show me some fucking respect."

Like a kid being scolded he realises his mistakes and like a kid who realises his mistakes he stays silent rather than apologises.

"You never spoke to my father like this so what's gotten into you?"

"Huh?" I raise my voice and I notice him jump at the sudden change.

"First he's staring at me, then he's trying to change the whole fucking plan, then he's mouthing my ear off so we almost don't drive away before the smoke starts pouring out and then I find out you personally asked him to be there and annoy the shit out of me," Jungkook rants, solid chest rising and falling rapidly as he's overcome with the memory of his annoying coworker.

"So what are you doing y/n?"

"Jungkook when you enter the mafia you have two choices in life: the first one is jail and the second is death. When you are a leader and you die, it will always be your best friend on the other side of that gun. I'm just making sure that isn't happening too soon."

He shakes his head at my distrust, my paranoia as if I was spitting out drug-induced nonsense. He doesn't linger on the fact that I just called him my best friend.

"This isn't you, you're being reckless, heartless, arrogant. And, I'm sorry but it's not you."

"I grew up. I suggest you do the some before it's too late," I hiss at Jungkook as he starts to stand, ready to leave the room and I'm watching his broad back contract. "And I haven't given you permission to leave so sit the fuck down!"

Jungkook, as the most childish grown man you know, stomps back over to the seat huffing in defeat and sits down dramatically, mocking your every order. But he still sits pressed right against the back of the chair, like there was a belt around it slowly tightening.

"You know what I can do and don't think for one second that I wouldn't do it to you because that's bullshit," you coldly begin eyes narrowed and suddenly emotionless at the man who used to mean everything to you "I could come into your room at night, fuck you up so hard they'd have to stitch you back together just so your mother wouldn't faint at the funeral and not lose a minute of sleep."

Jungkook's glare disappears, eyes settling into a state of despair as he's genuinely hurt. At that moment, I was too overcome with the horrible feeling of being challenged and disrespected that I realise that I was slowly losing him and myself along the way.

And, it just wasn't worth it.

"What would Tony say if he were here?" he asks thickly, not trying to get through to me but trying to make sense of his heartbreak.

He knew I couldn't talk about Tony, I couldn't even think about him because of my own guilt. Tony came to me a few nights a week hysterical about the inevitability of it all and I told him he didn't have a choice, that this was his life. I told him there was no escape for him so he found a way.

I could've helped him.

But I let him die.

"Well, Tony isn't here you know why? Because he didn't have the balls. He couldn't fucking do it so he chose to drag us all down to hell with him."

I usually knew how to read Jungkook but at this moment, I didn't know what he was thinking. He was strangely unpredictable right now.

"You know what?"

I straighten.

"I would rather die than know I failed your father. The day he died I promised that I would do everything I could to take care of you and make sure you succeeded. And, when I make a promise I don't back out so... go ahead," he pulls his gun out of his holster and slides it across the small table to me, relaxing back in his chair as he watches me eye it.

"Shoot me."

He waits smugly, not expecting me to pick it up and point it at his temple. Though my hands are shaking an awful feeling was making my finger tighten on the trigger. Of course, I didn't want to shoot him but he had hurt me.

Jungkook just confirmed that my father knew I couldn't do this alone, that I needed Jungkook or else I'd fail. I really thought Jungkook believed in me and wanted to be around me for the sake of being around me.

Himself, Jungkook wasn't sure. You could actually kill him and that scared him more than the thought of death itself. He looked like a rabbit in the woods, staring its hunter dead in the eye all wide-eyed and innocent.

But my hand shook for a reason, my body had a physical reaction to the possibility of a life without him so I put down the gun. I can't look at him, I can't look at him just in case his face shows shock that I didn't shoot him.

"Close the door on your way out."

Who had I become?

"Fucking asshole."

█▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█ ◈ █▒▒▒▒▒▒▒█

It was always ironic to me that we believed in God when all he did was make life as hard for us as possible. It was also ironic how the entire family sat in our pews right at the front, declaring peace to men of goodwill in our prayers when I had just organised a hit on this kid who assaulted a friend's daughter.

But I did say peace to men of goodwill.

Every Sunday, as Catholics and normal civilians, we go to church and we make our peace begging for mercy for the things we have done in the name of sacrifice. Something's gotta give after all.

Marcello was walking me out, arm in arm as we whispered and mumbled something and everything.

"What's happening with you and the kid?" He asks as if he doesn't know, it's all anyone can talk or think about. Firstly, it's because the Comare and the Consigliere are not in contact, secondly, it's because it's me and Jungkook. Everyone thought we were going to get married.

"He's not fitting the job description too well, sticking his nose in where it's not wanted."

"You should give the kid a break Y/N," Marcello taps my gloved hand, holding it gently. I shouldn't have replaced him, he knew what he was doing. "I get it, when you get the job you've gotta step it up but maybe Jeon wasn't quite ready to see you change so much."

I sigh, shaking my head at the predicament.

"Did Ronnie get his cut?" I change the subject, not liking it so much when I'm talking anything but business with Marcello or the others. Marcello was the first to hold me when I was a baby when my father brought me home. Who knew one day I'd be ordering him around, asking him to kill and replacing him with just some guy I was in love with.

"Safe and sound. Jungkook delivered it yesterday."

"I thought I told you he's not the errand boy anymore?"

As much as I wanted to shoot him yesterday, I still respected him. They used to treat Jungkook like shit because he was only half Italian. They said racist things, ordered him around, made him refill their drinks, held guns on him while he did it, 'accidentally' dropped cigarettes on him. As soon as I found out I was barging in on a serious meeting, listening to my father chew me out for interrupting but I still remember the look in his eyes after I said:

"Jungkook isn't a bell boy. You hired him, you get him a proper job where he's not being burnt or bossed around. If you don't fix this, I will. And, it won't be pretty."

That was the day my father started respecting me when he started actually listening to what I said.

"He volunteered, said he needed to get out or something."

I look down remembering the conversation prior -if you could call it that- with anything but fondness.

"Comare!"

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Marcello mumbled, giving me a playful wink and tapping my hand one more for support knowing that this conversation would need it.

I turn just before I could get into the car, my body physically wincing at the sound of his voice. Seeing him run, his perfect hair bouncing and muscles carrying him wasn't the perfect agony anymore. It was just agony.

The church bell rings, people are still flocking out, mothers and son, daughters and their husbands, kids everyone. I leant against the car door, trying to get comfortable.

"Consigliere."

"I just wanted to let you know that Ronnie receive-"

He was breathtaking in a suit, a black one that fitted him so well because I was there pinching every seam for the tailor so he looked how I wanted him to look. I also took advantage of the opportunity to run my hands over his broad shoulders 'dusting it.' When he frowned he was even more breathtaking, he was always his prettiest when he looked a little scary.

"-and the cops got the car and found Jimmy, couldn't identify Paige straight away though but-"

I felt reckless, more than the numbness I'd feel when I made a decision. I was practically vibrating, drooling and my eyes were heavy with hunger. I couldn't stop my fingers from gripping his jacket and pulling him right into me so that we could've fallen through the window if he pushed back.

He puffs as he stumbles reaching out to grasp the roof of the car to steady himself against me. The shadow he cast, the way he looked down at me from this angle as if I was nothing and everything did nothing to help my leaping heart.

I kiss him before he can even think about pulling away or flinching and I could taste his hesitation.

I kept pulling him in trapping him against me just indulging myself for now and not caring that he wasn't determined to kiss me back or show any emotion. Kissing him was better than any of the times I'd imagined it over the past 5 years although this situation wasn't nearly as fake or elaborate as they were in my day, afternoon, morning and night dreams.

But a gust of air like he unscrewed some valve changed everything.

Jungkook sighs in relief.

And, then he responds.

Jungkook's hands trap me in place by squeezing my waist letting out a deep muffled groan at the feeling, pushing me so far into the car I was almost lying on top of it. We had completely taken over each other and it was fucking fantastic.

I almost forget we're in public until I open my eyes, intending to double-check if he was truly there if this was really a reality where I got to kiss Jeon Jungkook and have him kiss me back.

But what I saw was the reality I deserved.

There wasn't enough time to explain so I palm his chest, his heart jumping around like a golden retriever under it and push him so hard he fell right on the ground.

I wanted to tell him that I wasn't pushing him away and that I would've carried on forever but when there's a gun pointed right at your head so many yards away in the middle of a chatting crowd, no thoughts can process until after.

His swollen lovely lips are the last red thing I see that isn't blood.

And, I was fine with that because it meant he was alive.

There were two shots and they waited until they had a clear shot of just me to get me a third time. Shooting Jungkook would've been a waste of time. I slid down the car door holding my waist, leaving one long strip of red down the side of it like a racing stripe. There's another in my left shoulder but the adrenaline keeps away the pain temporarily so I pull out my gun and shoot that asshole right between his shitty eyes.

Less than 2 seconds later Jungkook was squeezing my jaw to keep my consciousness and it hurt like a bitch and scared the shit out of me to watch all of my insides leave my body and stain his gorgeous suit.

But, Jungkook's eyes were pumping out tears like he was giving them away, hands shaking not knowing what to do despite his lengthy training as I cursed through the pain.

"You're so fucking stupid, so fucking stupid," he mumbled pretending he wasn't crying by wiping them away before I could see. He took off his jacket and started ripping the thick material with his bare hands and started to wrap up the pumping holes in my body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he kept whispering as I dug a hole into the ground with my head, the pain was unbearable so much so that it was hard to react at all since every ounce of energy I had was being spent trying to keep my eyes open. "Your dad's gonna kill me when I die."

"Don't you dare fucking close your eyes you hear me?" he yelled in my face through the fear, hand grabbing my chin again but his thumb lingers sweetly on my bottom lip. "Why the fuck did you do that? It's not your job to get shot for your men."

He kept calling me stupid, kept wrapping me up like a Christmas present all out of guilt.

"But it is for the people you love," I swallow, trying hard to get out my words before it's too late. I

didn't want to hurt him anymore but at least it would give a super cool reason, an extra line to say at my funeral that would make it a little more special. That I was capable of love.

Jungkook stops his actions, looks away and buries his face in his hands harshly as I'm gripping onto my vision and awareness of my surroundings.

But when he looks back there's determination like I've never seen before.

"You're not dying on me, you're not fucking leaving me so help me God," he spits to the universe tightening the bandages before starting to lift me off the ground "You hate your father and your brother for leaving you and I'm not letting you do the same to me! You hear?"

I don't remember much about the ambulance ride just how I took my gun out of my trousers and placed it on my lap when they wouldn't let Jungkook in with me despite his loud protests and the feeling of his lips permanently fixed to the back of my hand unwilling to let me go.

#btsimagine #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jjk #jungkook imagine #bts mafia au #jkmafia

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