#also she isn’t mean i swear there was just someone problematic in the room she wanted to talk about ahahahha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

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Hello babies and dear Anons 👋🏼🤗 I'm back with a new ‘Q&A’ post. Sorry, it took me longer than usual. I'll explain to you at the end of the post. For now, enjoy 🙃

I've already talked about it here, dear Anon, https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194553804881920/%C9%9F (first question) and then here https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648194746313031680/%C9%9F (fifth question).

And who said I think Camila is a lesbian, dear? 😏 Maybe you mistaken me for some other blog? Because, I've never said that, dear. I've never been asked about it 🤷🏻‍♀️

You must be new to my blog if you're asking me this question, dear Anon. Welcome 🤗 and my answer is no, dear. Neither of them has ever cheated on the other. They're both way too loyal for that shit.

No, dear Anon. And always keep in mind that this is just my opinion and that therefore I could be wrong.

Hello to you too, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 First of all, thank you 🥺🥰 Thank you very much for your words, dear, you're super nice and I really appreciated it very much 🤗

As for stuck, we didn't fight or anything like that. I guess we just drifted apart 🤷🏻‍♀‍ even before she entered the Marvel world, but I can't tell you why she never liked and re-blogged my posts, dear 🤷🏻‍♀️

Let's call it my flaw if you want, but I don't like any posts myself (not even my girlfriend's), but that doesn't mean I don't like many posts I see. It's just the way I am 😅 I leave comments every now and then though 😅 And neither does it mean I wouldn't like to interact with you guys if you ever want to contact me or tag me or get me involved in something. It may not seem like it maybe because I don't re-blog and put likes around, but trust me, it's not like that.

Going back to stuck, I really can't tell you why. I mean, I'm not her so I can't answer you. Maybe you should ask her directly, dear. @stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland

I hope you have a very nice day too, dear Anon. Thank you so much again, and please, be sure to take care of yourself too 😘

Hello to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and don't thank me, dear 🙈 It's really a pleasure for me to interact with you guys and help you in any way I can 😊

So. Yeah, I think what you think, dear. Mila was definitely the one to make the first move, but as far as putting aside pride and the decision to give it another try, it was something they both did because they each had their own reasons. Remember, dear, there are two people in a couple.

Hey dear sneaky little one 👋🏼😄 I'm good. How are you? It's a pleasure, dear, you don't have to thank me for that 😊

I'm not sharing them with you guys yet just because they're personal observations that not everyone can agree on and, as you may have noticed, I like to tell you guys what I think with real facts that I can prove. In this case, it would be like in this picture:

I hope that with this example you understand better what I mean, dear sneaky little one. Come back any time you want and take care of yourself too 🤗😘

Hey dear Anon, why are you so down? 😟 Don't be 🤗 I know it's hard to think positively about them, but think about everything we've endured so far. Think about how strong we are. Whatever's thrown at us, it won't change our minds because we know the truth. Now, come on, dear, smile 😁 Enjoy the small wins instead of having them ruined for you by the possible eventuality of them doing something. And remember, we're in this together 💪🏼

I swear to you that when I saw it, I was like 📢🔊 Your loving takes me higher 🎵 You set my heart on fire🎵 When you touch my body got me singing like Mariah!!!! 🎵🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Hello to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄

1) No, dear, you can't force something on someone who agreed to do things like this in the first place. I'll explain better. PRs are accepted by those directly involved, who then sign a contract. It's a commitment they're bound to respect from the moment they have accepted and signed the contract. If they don't respect it, they then have to pay the consequences (if you’re interested, I wrote a post about how PR relationships work here: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648193061847023616/pr-stunt-relationships-%C9%9F). I'll give you a silly example. Think of it as when one day you didn't want to go to school but you had to go anyway. It's pretty much the same dynamic because even if you didn't want to go that day, or several days, you knew you had to and you did. I hope it went well as an example 😆

2) Yes, but which of the two teams, well, that depends, dear. It depends on who's reaching whom and where. It depends on whether they're traveling together or not. And it depends on the purpose of that particular stunt, like if is some particular event or not.

3) No, dear, absolutely not, don't worry 🤣 Everyone has their own room. The rooms are very likely to be close together though, or at least on the same floor, that's for sure.

4) Yes, when possible, of course. The more people see the couple doing everything together, the more believable they seem.

Don't thank me, dear, it's really a pleasure 😊 Have a good day too ❤️

Not necessarily, dear Anon. Mila started work on her third album during the pandemic in her studio, so no one had to pay for her. Besides, when a contract expires and there's a re-sign, it doesn’t necessarily mean that an announcement will be made about it since the record label is still the same. Announcements are made if there's some kind of important addition, such as for example happened with 5H when they had to re-sign as a quartet for legal reasons with Syco/Epic, and it was only announced because of the addition of a contract with Sony Music as the sponsor for their last album.

Having said that: 1) Since her movie has been postponed again, I would say in 2022. 2) I really hope not because they would be really stupid to do it again. Plus, I don't think the PR will last until the released of her album. 3) I have to admit you made me giggle here, but no, dear 😂 don't worry. Producers, composers, songwriters, etc., work with a lot of different artists who have different styles. Mila’s nothing like Chimp, and she can’t do anything boring. It isn't in her blood. No pun intended at all there 😏🤣

Hi to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 and you got it right, buddy! We think the same way!

They had gotten to a really bad point in their relationship. A point where they were no longer themselves, either in the couple or individually. For me, what happens in the Havana music video is what happened in reality as well. It was obviously told in an artistic and funny way there. Like the scene of Juan literally ‘coming out of the closet for her’ because he thought it was the best thing for their relationship. In that scene, he gets down on his knees to ask her to marry him, but in reality, at least for me, it represents December. It represents the ‘begging’ in a disguised and artistic soap opera way. It represents Lauren's last attempt to make things work between them. Which is related to the “You love me”, “I do love you. But I love me more” scene in which Camila leaves everything behind. And if you think about it, we can also find this connection somewhere else: 🎶 “Nobody talks about walking away when there's still love” 🎶. Always Love by Laur. Luckily, at the end of the video, she really is ‘took back to her Havana’ as it also happened in reality.

It's all connected, dear. There's a connection and an explanation for everything they do artistically. Just pay attention and you'll be able to connect the dots like you did in this case too. Give me a virtual high-five! 🖐🏼 And have a good day too, dear Anon ❤️

Hello to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Thank you very much, dear, and don't worry, I've been never asked that. So. Before answering your questions, let's take a look at the facts, okay? Especially for the baby Camren shippers.

Leilani is Dinah's aunt by marriage. She has always interacted with fans and we saw her in several videos even with Dinah herself, but the first time she showed herself to us as problematic was on July 18, 2016. Leilani tweeted an attack on Taylor Swift and apologized the next day by saying of having been hacked:

Yeah, suuure, because hackers around the world were waiting for nothing but hacking her 🙄 But let's move on. September 8, 2016, was the day Laur cried several times during the concert in Phoenix, Arizona. The next day, on the 9th, before the concert in Irvine, California, Laur tweeted to thank the concerned fans, and Leilani replied to the tweet by exposing L because of the ‘her’:

On December 21st, 2016, she did a live where she talked about Camren after fans asked her about it: https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_qvandqF63c1ykfr3q.mp4 (I also put the sub in the video myself)

On January 8, 2017, she posted two Snapchat stories in which she spoke again about Camren with one of her nieces: https://va.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_qval74yFz61ykfr3q.mp4

On January 29, 2017, both Camila and Lauren blocked her on social media:

She continued to strike by attacking Camila months later. On July 13, 2017, the same day the 5H interview with Billboard came out, Leilani attacked her by basically calling her a whore. Tweet to which C replied with suspense dots and a Rihanna GIF:

On December 5, 2017, Camila posted the album cover and title by saying that the pre-order would've been possible from the 7th. Because of the album cover picture, Leilani attacked with the first tweet on December 5th, and continued on the 6th:

Then nothing else problematic.

Yes, of course she knew about Camren. All the people close to them know about Camren. Leilani has always been a person who likes attention. She has always liked to show off and be noisy and messy in doing so. It didn't matter how ridiculous she was or that her actions fell upon her niece. The fact that she seemed to be joking and that she was always so evasive and confusing on the subject, is because she herself knew she was going to pay the consequences. She could never have said “yes, they're real” and stick to it. Also because the one who would've paid the most consequences would've been Dinah. You know, being her aunt, it was like her responsibility. And I think D really paid the consequences for something she didn't do. At least, before the sharks took the reins and told her what to do (Leilani through Dinah). It’s happened to a lot of people close to them to get involved over the years. It has been noticed a lot more from 2015 onwards, but especially in 2017 to increase the story of the fake feud between the girls.

So basically, yeah, she was problematic and loud and messy and all of that, but for the most part, she was just following the script.

Hi to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 welcome and thank you very much 🙃 My answer to your question is yes, they've been for a long time by then. You'll find more details on all of that dynamic below in the next ask, dear.

Kinda? 🤣 Okay, let me explain, dear Anon. There was no cheating if this is what you thought with my first answer. But let's go in order. I'll shed some light on the story with Luis once and for all.

Luis Santos' first appearance for us was on January 13, 2013 when Laur posted this picture on IG:

One year later exactly, on January 13, 2014, L posted this picture:

Then we have the one on February 24th (when the girls arrived in Miami because they had three dates in Florida for The Neon Lights Tour) and those of February 25th, 2014 after the concert (posted the day after):

We have the one of April 13, 2014:

The prom ones of May 17, 2014, which were the last pictures with Luis that Laur posted:

And lastly, we have Laur’s birthday one posted by Luis:

The latter lets us understand that their story officially began on January 27, 2014. We don't know when it ended exactly (let's suppose at the beginning of July) because we only had confirmation of it in August thanks to the explanation that Clara gave for that fake scandal:

Now. This is the official story. The one we should’ve bought. But let me show you the behind the scenes. This is Melanie Mueller, Luis's ex:

Luis was in a relationship with Melanie from early August (unfortunately, Luis and Melanie's profiles are all private, but not Melanie's old Twitter) until, according to the narrative, late November 2013:

And this is where the juicy stuff begins. Luis stated that he and Mel were no longer together:

The date coincidentally matches the beginning of his relationship with Lauren on January 27, 2014, right? Right. So how do you explain the fact that Luis and Mel were on a romantic date exactly 13 days after he said they weren't together anymore?

As you can see from the date, it was February, and weren't Lauren and Luis already together since January 27th? 😏 The funny thing is that they kept interacting and taking pictures together:

And then there's the best part. The Camren shippers went wild that year in replacing Luis's face with Camila's twice. The first one with the prom picture 🤣:

And the second one with April picture. Sorry, I really tried but I couldn't find the original manip. But don't worry, I have two better things 😏:

Ohh, I think we know, Mel 😎

And how can we forget one of the many things that remained in the fandom's history and which coincidentally happened just in February a week before the picture of Luis and Melanie's romantic date:

Now that I've given you proofs, it's theory time. We know about the friendship with benefits, the Like Friends Do situation that Camren had, and we know that Lauren was in denial. Luis was a shield. Her shield, especially for the public. It wasn't a PR created by the labels, but by Lauren herself. Laur and Luis were friends, and I mean, they still have been for years. Laur simply asked him for a favor and he accepted. Laur stayed in Miami throughout the Christmas period until the first week of January 2014 before flying to L.A. with the girls. It was then, in that time spent at home that she asked him, and despite knowing the risks, despite knowing he would face fans' hatred, and despite having a girlfriend, Luis agreed to be the fake boyfriend just to help his friend in need. I don't think she told him the real reason behind it right away, but she definitely told him once she and Mila finally got together. Laur came out to her family in early 2015, but it doen't mean she didn't to her friends before. Especially once she and Mila became official in April 2014.

So, dear Anon, yes, in a way, Lauren was with Camila and Luis, but in reality, she was never with Luis.

Hi to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄 Thank you very much, dear, and that's okay. I don't mind helping when and if I can. It's not a problem at all for me 😊

So, as far as Lolo's situation is concerned, I honestly think Columbia has very little to do with her situation. I mean, Columbia is the biggest record label under Sony Music and has always had a lot of successful artists. From the great names that have made history to the most recent but still famous ones: Michael Jackson, Freddie Mercury, Aretha Franklin, Frank Sinatra, David Bowie, Bob Dylan, Celine Dion, Paul McCartney, Mariah Carey, Beyoncé, Jay Z, Adele, Alicia Keys, Ricky Martin, Pharrell Williams, Robbie Williams, Katy Perry, Shakira, Snoop Dogg, 50 Cent, Diplo, OneRepublic (Ryan Tedder), Miley Cyrus, Harry Styles, Zain Malik, Little Mix, Calvin Harris, BTS, Lil Nas X, Meghan Trainor, etc., etc., etc. Believe me, there are really, but really many names that I haven't put in this list.

The purpose of a record label is to make money. To do that, the label finds an artist. The label decides if it's worthwhile for them to sign the artist by investing and advancing the money on them, and if the label believes they can make money with their music, then they don't think twice before signing them. So they invest in the artist, develop them, promote them through the artist's team, and distributes their music in exchange for a percentage of the revenues. If things go smoothly and well, there's a gain, but if things go wrong, the label loses money. [If you want to know more about how the music world works and what the girls had to go through, I wrote a post about it here: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/648192055443619840/how-the-music-world-works]

Now, what did I mean by that? As I said before, Columbia is the number one, the biggest and most important umbrella music label under Sony Music Entertainment. So why on earth would a label as big as Columbia Records have signed Lauren and invested in her, but then thwart her and lose a lot of the money they invested themselves? It wouldn't make any sense because it would be like self sabotaging themselves! And what did I say is the purpose of a record label? To make money. Don't be fooled by anyone about it, dear.

I could have understood if this had been an isolated case; if Laur had been the only one among the girls (LAND) who hadn't released an album. But it's not like that. Something, and I'm 100% convinced it's something from their old contracts, has held all four of them up until now. We'll see, dear Anon. Sooner or later, the truth will come out because it always does. Even if it takes years.

Don't apologize, dear, really 😊 Hope things are great with you too and please, take care of yourself too 🤗

Hey to you, dear Anon 👋🏼😄

Nada is a song that is part of Tainy's EP called Neon16 Tape: The Kids That Grew Up on Reggaeton, and it's about how two people in an unofficial relationship want completely different things. The guy doesn't want anything serious unlike the girl.

Now. I understand why you're confused, dear. After reading the lyrics and thinking about Camren, you've surely wondered “Where the fuck is Camila in all of this? But does it have something to do with her, or not?”. Well the answer is no. You see, dear, we're used to hearing a lot more Mila's songs than Laur's. When Mila writes, she writes for herself. She writes from her point of view and according to her experiences. Same thing Laur does. But Mila, unlike Laur, can't write a song for other people. She can't detach herself from them when she's writing them. Take as examples all those songs she gave away after finishing them, like Anyone or Ain't Easy. When you listen to them, you can clearly hear Camila all over it even if the song is being sung by someone else, like in these two examples, Justin Bieber and Elijah Woods. But with Laur? Nah, because Lauren can completely detach herself from them.

Take More Than That as an example. Laur didn't write More Than That for herself; she just ‘decided’ to keep it (because it was okay for the narrative she had going on at the time). If she had really given it to someone else and then you had listened to it and knew she was the one who had written it, you would've thought “Really?” with a wtf expression as the first thing. Right? Because you recognize Laur in the song only because you know she's behind it. Am I wrong? And don't get me wrong, dear, this is not by all means a bad thing at all. I'm not saying this as an insult or anything. Quite the opposite actually. I think it's absolutely amazing. Think about it. It's basically the work of songwriters and ghostwriters who only work behind the scenes for other artists. Gosh, they're both so fucking talented 😍

Anyway. What was I getting at with this? To the fact that the same thing happened here with Nada. Nada was written by four songwriters and we have two different points of view to represent the couple in the story. The one of the girls, Laur and Cris Chil (she also worked and wrote with her for Lento), and the one of the boys, C. Tangana and Tainy (like Cris, he wrote with her and produced Lento). Now. I can't tell you who the real protagonist behind the story of the song is because none of them said it, but it's definitely not Lauren. Laur just went with the flow.

Before starting, I would like to also publicly thank my girl @romanticentropy for helping me with the translation (her first language is Spanish), so thank you again, my love 🥰 And I'm not talking about the literal translation. I'm talking about the real meaning behind it since the meaning of many sentences or words can change even based on a simple comma. Therefore, here below you'll find the real translation along with notes placed in parentheses with various explanations. I don't know if you speak Spanish, dear Anon, but we did this for all those people here who don't speak it so that everyone can understand the true meaning of the song.

That said, let's get started.

Verse 1:

“Como te arrimes sí te voy a dar

If you dare come close, I’ll give you [implied: my dick]

Me he puesto guapo pa' verte pasar (Yeah)

I got myself all dressed up to watch you go by (Yeah)

No me pregunte', no quiero pensar

Don't ask me, I don't want to think

No tengo tiempo, no me pue'o casar

I don't have time, I can't get married

Pero, puedo quererte de nuevo

But, I can love you again

Dejar todo el resto pa' luego

[implied because the two sentences go together: And] leave everything else for later

Quedarme pa' ti, que más quieres de mí

To stay for you, what else do you want from me

No odies al jugador odia al juego

Don't hate the player, hate the game

Yo no me he inventado na' (Qué va)

I didn't make anything up (Not at all / Of course not) [‘Qué va’ is an expression, particularly from Spain, that means something like ��How could you have thought that? Of course not’ said in a casual tone. So, ‘not at all’ is a possible interpretation because he's reassuring he really didn't make anything up]

Sobrevivo en la ciudad (¿Qué?)

I survive in the city (What?)

Me la busco pa' ganar, cien monedas pa' gastar

I'm looking to earn, a hundred dollars to spend [In this sentence, the comma is very important because in ‘me la busco pa' ganar’ read alone, it means that he's finding his ways to earn a living or a better life. When you add ‘cien monedas pa' gastar’, it extends to ‘he's finding his way to earn $100 to spend’, but the comma is important because it keeps alive the idea that he's not only working for the 100 dollars, but also for a better life (possibly a rich kind of life, but that's not necessarily implied)]

Una cama pa' dormir, y un yate pa' vacilar

A bed to sleep in, and a yacht to show off on”

What do we understand from this? That he's actually the one who doesn't want to have a serious relationship because his goal for the moment is to earn and live a good life, not to settle down and get married.

Pre-Chorus:

“Tú ya sabías to' lo que había

You already knew what to expect / You already knew what the situation was

No me hagas cambiar, vida mía

Don't make me change, my darling [He sings ‘vida mía’, which means ‘my life’. Calling someone ‘my life’ is not used in English because it makes no sense in the definition of the language itself. So, in this case, it's translated and used as a loving nickname. As you could call someone ‘my love’, ‘my heart’, ‘my baby’, or ‘my darling’]

Yo te doy hasta que se haga de día

I'll give you until it's daylight

Yo te doy hasta que se haga de día

I'll give you until it's daylight [‘Darle a alguien’, ‘to give to someone’ in Spanish has a sexual connotation. It means you're going to have sex with that person. It’s especially used from a male point of view; particularly this last line, he means he'd have sex with her all night until it's day again]”

He basically tells her: “You knew I'm an asshole. Don't try to change me because it's useless. The only thing I can give you is whole nights of sex”.

Chorus:

Sigue' dándome na', dándome nada

You keep giving me nothing, giving me nothing

Can't keep up with your vibe

'Cause you're up and you're down, 'round and you're 'round, babe

I can not read your mind

Conté lo' día' pa' volverte a ver

I counted the days to see you again

Y tú ni sabe' qué quiere' hacer

And you don't even know what you want to do

Cuando me vaya no voy a volver

When I leave I won’t come back

Sigue' dándome na', dándome nada

You keep giving me nothing, giving me nothing”

This is an ultimatum. “If you keep giving me nothing for much longer, I'll leave you without looking back”.

Verse 2:

“Yo no estoy para regalarte

I'm not here to please you [The literal translation of that is ‘I'm not here to give you’. The incomplete sentence opens an ambiguity where you don't know if she’s saying ‘I'm not here to give you anything’, or ‘I'm not here to give you things’, or ‘I'm not here to fulfill your wishes’, or ‘I'm not here to please you’, or things like that that make you understand that if he's not ready to pay attention to her right now and give her the love she needs, and he's clearly not because he's ‘giving her nothing’, she's not just going to wait there by begging for some love or collecting the crumbs that he leaves behind. She's saying “give me the love and the attention I need or I'll go away on my own”. So overall, ‘I'm not here to please you’ is a decent interpretation]

Ni tampoco para esperarte

Nor to wait for you

Ese dinero no te va a cuidar

That money won’t take care of you

No te pido matrimonio, yo sólo tu arte

I'm not asking you to marry me, just your love [That's the real meaning behind the sentence despite the literal translation being this: I'm not asking you to marry me, just your art]

Cuando no estoy ahí

When I'm not there

Sé que preguntas por mí

I know you ask about me

Sé por qué eres así

I know why you're like this

I know you're afraid of falling in too deep

We can pretend like we’ve only done this for the fun of it

Pero no te sorprendas si te enteras que así como tú hay mil

But don't be surprised to find out there are a thousand just like you around”

Basically: “I'm not asking you to marry me, just to have a real relationship. An exclusive relationship. We can continue to pretend that we just had fun, but I know there's something deeper. I know you're afraid of falling in love with me, but if you keep wanting this kind of relationship, then I'm gonna go find someone who wants the same things as me; also because there are a lot of guys out there and I'm starting to get tired of waiting”.

And that's all, dear Anon. Now that you know the real translation *thanks once again, mi amor 💖* , can you see anything that has to do with Mila? Because I don't. In fact, if I really have to find an association with Camren, the only thing that comes to my mind is that Lauren could have written some parts of her verse from Camila's point of view when they were still just fuckbuddies. You know? Since it was Laur who was initially in denial and was afraid, and not Camila. She was the one who was afraid of the idea of even liking Mila, let alone falling in too deep. But it's not like that. There's nothing of Camila here. There's no Camren here. For me, this song is the story of one of the three (Cris Chil, or C. Tangana, or Tainy) and Laur only contributed to it with her talent.

Of course I can, dear Anon 😉

So. Camila created In the Dark the day after going to the Grammys' after-party (February 12, 2017) with which she went with Ashlee as her date of hers. Mila said she got the idea for the song because of the encounter she had at that party with this unnamed famous guy. Yeah, sure, Jan. We know very well that this is not the case. Just as we know very well that that was the same night in which Tyren had their first public appearance as a fake couple. If you're interested, I've already explained all this also with proofs in my previous post: https://fa-by.tumblr.com/post/653296412485894144/romanticentropy-fa-by-hiiii-babies-and-dear (last question in my All These Years' interpretation).

If you don't mind, dear Anon, I'll start with the verses because they're the only parts of the song where Mila isn't addressing Lauren directly. In the verses, Camila just observes her by describing their surroundings.

Verse 1:

“Blank stares, faithless

Vampires at the same places

Shadows, traces”

Okay, let's talk about those types of parties for a moment. I bet that when you think about it, you picture a lot of celebrities having fun and dancing, glam, alcohol, drugs, music, and all those kinds of things, right? Well, that's just as true as it isn't. You see, there aren't just celebrities at those parties. There are one or more of they team members, there are A&R representatives of various labels, CEOs, publicists, producers, marketing representatives, radio and television presenters, reporters, designers, advertisers, etc., etc., etc. Those parties are the epicenter of business-talk. Very often, this is where ideas for collaborations, for PRs, for endorsements and sponsorships, for movie and TV appearances, etc., etc., happen. For those celebrities who have to be there for business reasons and not for actually having fun, those parties are pretty boring.

With those sentences, Mila describes all the people around her during that party. Those people who aren't having fun because they're surrounded by what she calls vampires. Before they marketed them by making them sparkle in the sun because of the crystals on their skin, or before they made them wear a gemstone in daylight rings, bracelets, and amulets to make them walk in the sun, you know? Before they become basically trendy, vampires were always the villains. But don't get me wrong with that. I saw the Twilight saga and I love love love The Vampire Diaries, but the fact remains that before all of that franchise, vampires have always been used in horror and scary genres because they're evil. Also because if you think about it, what do vampires do? They suck blood by basically feeding on the life force of creatures by draining them to survive and not decompose since they're undead. They need to take a life to keep living theirs, so yeah, they are the bad guys.

So Mila here describes both the bored people, the ones with blank stares who in those cases are the shadows of their true selves because they're pretending to be who they aren't, and those people of power as bloodsuckers, life-suckers: vampires. And I don't blame her at all because that's what they do. Vampires, or puppet masters, or parasites, or as you guys know I like to call them: sharks.

“I know that you feel me”

Now. Now, now, now, now, now, now. What does this sentence make us understand? Picture you're in a place full of people. Picture pretending that you're having fun because you can't show how much you actually want to be somewhere else. Picture smiling and forcibly laughing at the bullshit someone's saying. It's all about image. Now picture seeing someone you know amidst that sea of people. You and this person are far from each other, and at the moment, you both are busy talking to other people. Even though you turned around to keep having this oh so great conversation with those people, you can feel the person you know. You can feel their presence despite being on opposite sides. You can totally feel that they're still looking at you, and you have confirmation of that the moment you turn towards them again.

Apply all of this on Camren now. We know how they've always attracted each other. We know how they've always searched and checked each other when they were on opposite sides of a room. We know how they've always felt each other. So it's not that hard for me to picture how it went in this case. I understand what Mila means when she says she knows Laur could feel her despite the place and all the people around them. Because it's always been that way between them, and we've actually seen them do it many times.

Verse 2:

“Plus one, guest list

But you don't even know what her name is

Secrets, endless

I know that you feel me”

This is a repetition similar to the first verse. Mila here continues to describe the people around her and those around Laur. People who are there because they're on a list thanks to someone they don't even really know. People who in those events become totally fake because they all have secrets to hide, including the two of them. People who pretend to be friends with each other just for a matter of image without even knowing their real names, their real selves. People who are so used to wearing a mask that they've by now become that mask. And among all the sea of these people, Mila knows that Laur can feel her. Evidently as much as she can feel Laur.

Refrain:

“You’re runnin', runnin', runnin', runnin' (oh)

Making the rounds with all your fake friends”

As I said before, many celebrities wear a mask, this facade for protection. They do it to show themselves as unproblematic and to show themselves almost as perfect in the eyes of others. If you think about it, it's the same thing we see in many celebrities and even in Camren when they have to promote something. Neither of the two of them has problems showing themselves to us in a vulnerable, authentic way, without make-up ‘al natural’. But as soon as they have to promote something, bam! Dresses, nails done, make-up, and hair. It's quite normal on the one hand. I understand that. But the problem, as Mila herself said, is when this fake persona takes over your authentic self.

In this part, Mila explains how she was observing Lauren's behavior. This facade that she was wearing because they were in that kind of environment with those kinds of people and those fake friends (yes, including Tabloid). This mirage that allowed her to run and hide her true self from everyone, even from Camila herself.

“Runnin', runnin' away from it (away)”

Especially in this part, and despite having seen her fake act many times before, Mila lets us understand how Lauren was 'running' and suppressing/hiding her authentic self in front of everyone. [I remember that period. Lauren didn't act like Lauren for a while]

You can strip down without showing skin, now”

Okay, this? This sentence right here, it's magic. It's pure art. “It's okay to show the realistic side of yourself without exposing yourself and also having to show your secrets or what you want to keep to yourself. There's no need to act like a completely different person from who you are”. Camila leaves me more and more speechless with her way of writing and expressing such true and profound concepts.

Pre-Chorus:

“I can see you're scared of your emotions

I can see you're hoping, you're not hopeless

So why can't you show me?

Why can't you show me?

I can see you're looking for distractions

I can see you're tired of the acting

So why can't you show me?”

The pre-chorus explains itself quite well. Mila's saying “I know you. I see what you're doing. I see your fear. I see the way you want a way out. I see how tired you are of this farce. So why are you faking it? Why are you faking it in front of me? Why are you faking it with me? Show me the real Lauren. Not this industry puppet. Show me the Lauren I know”.

Chorus:

“Who are you in the dark? (I, I)

Show me the scary parts (I, I)

Who are you when it's 3AM and you're all alone

And L.A. doesn't feel like home? (I, I, I)

Who are you in the dark?”

Who are you in the dark? = Who are you when no one's watching. Who are you when no one can judge you. Who are you when you're alone and you can really lower that protective barrier you create around you. Show me that. Show me all of you.

Camila mentions 3AM because, as we well know thanks to their other songs, it was the nighttime hours when they were able to spend more time together freely. She also mentions L.A. to make a comparison with Miami since Los Angeles is the second city they spend the most time in due to their careers.

If in the pre-chorus Mila really asks her to show her her true self, here in the chorus she instead asks her a rhetorical question accompanied by the explanations themselves like the specific examples 3AM and L.A. to make/show her point even more. Basically the same explanation as the pre-chorus: “Who are you, because I know, I know you, so why don't you show me?”. And I really love this connection between pre-chorus and chorus.

Bridge:

“Darling, come on and let me in

Darling, all of the strangers are gone, they're gone

I said, darling, come on and let me see”

The difference between the pre-chorus & chorus and this, is the more affectionate way she addresses her. She's asking her in a cute way also thanks to the use of that classic old-school pet name, to open up and show herself. She's telling her that it's okay now that they're alone. And most importantly, she's reassuring her with this:

“Darling, I promise that I won't run”

After hurting each other, after the omissions and the secrets, after the fights, after the non-communication, after that toxicity, in short, after everything they'd been through in those years and the way things had ended between them almost two months prior, this is really serious. She's promising her that she'll stay. That's the first step, or at least what we know was the first step thanks to this song, towards a healthy relationship and towards a real positive change in their relationship.

And by the way, wooohh, this whole transition is amazing!

Outro:

“Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Who are you in the dark?

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Who are you in the dark?

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Who are you in the dark?

Ah-ah, ah-ah, ah-ah

Who are you in the dark?”

And that's all, dear Anon. I hope you liked my interpretation 🙃

P.S. When Sinu said “Number nine is my shit!” during that live, I felt that. Mama Sinu was right. Even after all this time, this song is still the shit 😎

🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍🤸🏻‍♀‍

Aaand I'm done 👩🏻‍💻 I hope I was helpful in this case too 😄 Thank you all for your asks and as usual, know that I'm available for those who have questions, so feel free to ask 😊

Before I go, I wanted to apologize for this huge delay. In addition to my job, it was due to the fact that I'm in the middle of a relocation. For about two months for 21 years, I always go to a place by the sea for the summer. I'll be there from today and I'll be back in September. Unfortunately there isn't much connection there, but there's a single wi-fi. I don't know if I'll continue to answer the asks all together with a post or individually. I'll see how to organize myself once I'm there. I apologize in advance if I'll take longer than usual to reply, but at least you know that it's because there's not much connection there (and you have to keep in mind that I’ll continue working normally because I’m not on holiday yet). Everything will be back to normal in September.

That being said, always remember to be kind, to others and to yourselves. Be a good example. Be patient. Be safe and take care of yourselves. Don't let our ship sink. Keep shipping them, but please respectfully 🙏🏼 Sending you virtual love and hugs 🤗🤗🤗 I love you, babies. Always with love, F ❤️

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suntrastar · 4 years

Text

sink or swim

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

summary: you first meet ransom when meg drags you along to a party. everything somehow spirals from there.

warnings: swearing, smut (but like very vague smut, nothing super explicit), ransom’s general assholery

word count: 9.3k

author’s note: i hate ransom drysdale! he is a shit character! if he existed irl i would whoop his ass with NO hesitation. but i still wrote this fic because ... a bitch gets thirsty okay?? okay. and ik this is very long BUT a lot of it is dialogue so it should flow pretty fast!!! likes and reblogs are always appreciated!!! ily now enjoy!!! you can also read this on ao3 :)

There’s something fun about being somewhere where no one wants you, and then something shameful.

Meg isn’t touching you, but as she drags you around her famous grandfather’s mansion in search of people to bother, it feels like she has you on an invisible leash, fastened tight over your neck. To keep you tethered to her- like a fucking dog.

The leash hurts like it is not made of plastic or metal but instead two hands squeezing tight, wringing you dry, choking you harder and harder and bruising you purple with no remorse.

Now, she’s debating political theory with her douchebag fuck of an uncle, who almost hits you once- almost hits you twice with his cane while waving it around as he quotes Fox News-

Their voices rise. You’re the only one that flinches.

Standing awkwardly on the edge, you wonder why you are the only guest at this terrible party that looks so lost. Meg gives you a covert this-is-total-bullshit glance, and a small, pained, rehearsed smile, both of which you have to return- that’s the real reason you’re here, after all- and her uncle rants on, wholly oblivious.

You look past them both, to where one man stands by himself.

He’s leaning against the far wall, and while Meg retaliates with some of her favorite words, including audacity and bigoted and problematic, you take a sudden, intense interest in the wallpaper pattern, sweeping your eyes over the span of it, looking over the man just once.

He is staring right back at you.

All it takes is his eyes- he’s just staring, but you’re absolutely embarrassed.

He looks rich, with too much product in his hair and a coat that looks like it cost more than your rent, with loafers that expose an uncomfortable amount of ankle and an expression that morphs into something wolfish as he starts towards you-

Before you can think, he’s joined your little circle- Meg prefers standing, so of course, everyone stands- and smiles when she glares at him.

He isn’t looking at you anymore.

“So,” he interrupts, and his voice is so dark, “what riveting political topic are we debating tonight?”

You should call an Uber. Why did you accept Meg’s offer of a ride?

“Ransom,” Meg says sweetly, “could you just, like, fucking not?”

This is supposed to be a Christmas party, but none of these people seem to be in the Christmas spirit. Including her uncle, with his stuffy sweater set and clunky-as-hell shoes. He sputters something about young people and their profanity, and then hastily leaves.

Without thinking, you breathe out a heavy sigh of relief.

The man smiles wider. Unfortunately, it makes him look very handsome.

”Ouch,” he says lightly, to Meg, and turns to you.

A shiver runs down your spine.

You hate him immediately.

“Who are you?” he asks.

For whatever reason, the question makes Meg scoff. She shakes her head at you- a warning. Her hair flounces with the movement.

Because she doesn’t want you to, you give him your name. And then add, because your name alone seems like a title too stripped down, “I’m Meg’s friend.”

It’s hard to convince yourself to be polite, when you don’t like how he’s been looking at you- with his eyes narrowed and brown furrowed and lips parted. He gives an insufferable nod.

“Right,” he says. “The one she’s been showing off all evening.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Ransom-” Meg starts, and suddenly you are so angry, at this man for confirming what you thought was all in your head, at Meg for suddenly swooping in to save you, like she’s been waiting for it-

“I guess,” you say, and smile a little, and regret everything.

“That’s pathetic,” he says, and looks at you kindly.

Apparently, Meg is the only one allowed to be self-righteous in her annoyance, or anger, or any other mildly passionate emotion. She doesn’t return your covert this-is-total-bullshit glance.

So you fend for yourself.

“Well, so is this fucking party, so-”

He interrupts you with a laugh.

It’s loud and arrogant and mirthless, and you’ll climb out of a window, find a way to walk through the walls, if it means that you’ll escape it.

“I’m just joking,” he says, pursing his lips, and the hands on your neck, ever-present, nearly crush the breath out of you. “Don’t get your panties all in a twist.”

“So funny I forgot to laugh,” you say, and instead of replying, he just looks at you.

He looks at you slowly, like he has nothing better to do, like he has time to waste. You can smell him- some cologne that’s spicy, and expensive, and Meg is staring at you in shock, like you’ve committed a crime.

But she’s quiet.

“I’m Ransom,” he says, and raises his hands to make little air quotes, which is weirdly adorable in a way that you hate, “Meg’s ‘asshole cousin’”

“Weird name,” you say.

You’ve changed your mind- you’re not even going to attempt to be nice.

For a second, he looks furious.

It’s attractive.

“Yeah,” he says. “Anyways, I’m about to ditch. Do you want a ride?”

How does he know you came here with Meg?

He was staring at you from the wall-

From his butterscotch-colored coat with its awful, ostensible lapels, he pulls out his car keys. The BMW logo flashes silver and blue, clashing against the gold of his pinky ring, clinking against the metal as he twirls the key ring around his finger-

For a second, you think that he’s about to toss the keys across the room and command you to fetch.

“Um,” you say, uncertainly, irritated with your own restraint, “Thanks, but Meg will-”

“Meg will what?”

He’s mocking you, and there is no one to come to your rescue.

Hesitantly, like she has to think twice about it, Meg opens her mouth to say something. What is her problem? What is your problem? Why are you treating her like she is your saving grace?

You talk before she gets the chance. “Okay, yeah. A ride would be great.”

***

Ransom offers because he likes your face.

You’re better-looking than the girls that Meg usually brings along to these parties, or maybe his standards have fallen- he isn't sure. Does it really matter? Even though he’s been looking at you all night, even though he’s positively thrilled to have you in his car, he’s not going to try anything.

There’s something desperate in your eyes that compels him against it.

You inhale sharply when he turns left.

“You forgot your turn signal,” you say, and he kind of likes how you chastise him, not angrily or even upset, but just exasperated-

How is someone like you friends with someone like Meg?

“Don’t worry about it,” he says lightly, and the tired glare you give him is enough to make his entire week.

Now that he thinks about it, his mother is always on his case about things like this- compassion and civility and basic human decency, and how he lacks it all, but what about now? He’s taking a miserable girl to her home, simply from the goodness of his own heart, with no strings attached.

This is such a good deed- this is like charity.

His mother is also always telling him that he’s severely, almost clinically narcissistic.

He definitely is, but again, does it matter?

“So, what do you think about my family?” he asks, making a big, dramatic show of using his turn signal before swerving right, feeling too pleased when you smile.

He steals a glance at your knees and somehow feels guilty.

He’ll have to do something about that.

“They’re pretty... lively,” you say hesitantly, and he’s suddenly hating the dark, this stupid fucking night- he’d like to see you better.

“Lively,” he repeats, and barks out a laugh. “They’re fucking crazy.”

You laugh, too, a real one- off-kilter, and too loud- none of that artificial shit he heard at the party. Nothing meant to please.

“I was definitely thinking that,” you say. He catches you looking at his hands, but boldly, you don’t look away. “I just didn’t want to be rude.”

“Now you’re worried about being rude?”

“I’m in a car with a strange guy I’ve never met before, so yeah.”

You’re smiling but look uncomfortable, and then afraid.

All bark and no bite- you’ve been talking all this talk, when really, he realizes, you’re so washed-out, so faint, like the bare sliver of moon out in the sky, the same weak moon he’s been cursing out. The same stars, too- you are just as scattered.

You look pretty.

“Are you scared?”

He keeps his eyes on the road because he thinks you’ll snap at him if he doesn’t. Not like anyone drives out here anyway- not like he can’t pay off a ticket or two or five-

“Should I be?”

There is something so delicious about this moment, with you starting to worry- he can’t look at the road anymore, not when he can watch your throat bob as you swallow instead, and it still feels so violating, but so good.

“Nope,” he says, and you startle when you hear him say it, and he has to bite his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “No need.”

“Great,” you say, and go quiet.

When he pulls up to your apartment complex, not too far from where he lives, he holds his mouth in check. He could say so many things right now, but for you, he restrains himself.

You have your bag in hand, seatbelt off. From the streetlight, the planes of your face look waxy yellow.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say.

Your hand is on the door handle, nails glittering. He can’t make out the color of the polish.

While looking at it, a sudden urge overcomes him.

And he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he wants to, so bad. It’s borderline frantic, the desire- it’s necessary and all-important and crucial, for him and his basic peace of mind, and maybe for you, too-

Who is he to deny himself?

“Wait,” he says, even though the door is open and you have half of yourself out the door.

The cold is slowly seeping in, bone-chilling.

You wait.

“Let me just,” he says, and can’t bring himself to say anything else.

He reaches out for your waxen face with one hand and presses it firmly against your cheek.

Under his touch, you shiver. He fans out his fingers to hold you better.

Your eyes are wide. He thinks you look a bit horrified- horrified with yourself for not resisting, maybe.

But he closes his eyes as he leans in, so it doesn’t matter.

He turns your head for you, a bit forcefully. You don’t protest.

He kisses your cheek.

When he pulls back and opens his eyes, you’re staring at him with your mouth in a perfect circle.

“Uh,” you say, and suddenly look away and out into the night, and it makes him angry, even though it should be flattering, “Merry Christmas.”

***

You don’t think about Ransom as much as he probably would have wanted- life picks up too fast.

In the last days of the year, Meg calls you and texts you and even goes so far as to send a few emails, but finally, you seem to have found the self-respect to not respond- consider that ridiculously wealthy bridge burned.

In January, your brother leaves to study for a semester abroad. All the walls in your small apartment are suddenly looming, standing high over you, standing empty. You try to shove off the loneliness by studying harder, by staying distracted.

In February, you have the same dream nearly every night- you’re sitting outside on a porch in the sun and for some reason there’s a bird on your head, and in your lap there’s a clock whose hands don’t work, and you’re wearing a heavy necklace made of gold links that jingle, and you’re so happy.

Does the bird count as company?

In early March, while you’re watering your plants, your phone rings with an unknown number.

You shouldn’t pick up unknown numbers.

You pick up.

“Hello?”

“Remember me?”

His voice nearly gives you whiplash.

It’s dark and harsh, faceless and yet as arrogant as ever.

“Hi, Ransom,” you say, and think of the night in the car for the first time since, think of how he gripped your face so hard that his ring left an imprint. “How the hell do you have my number?”

“Meg gave it to me,” he says smugly. “She says hi.”

You wonder what Meg thinks you did to her. It’s obviously something bad, something terrible, if she so willingly gave your number to this pretty-faced, pretty-voiced, ugly-coat-wearing asshole-

“Awesome,” you say plainly. You don’t want to talk about her. “Do you, like, need something, or-”

“I want to take you out,” he says.

You laugh and your grip on your pitcher slips, sloshing water over the edge.

“You’re joking.”

He is, right?

He takes an impatient breath that, for some reason, sounds inappropriate. “I’m serious.”

“Ransom,” you say, slowly, “I don’t even know you.”

“Then get to know me,” he says testily, and you can perfectly picture him, sitting in some colossal brownstone his parents bought him, while a butler daintily dabs the sweat from his brow with an embroidered handkerchief. “Tonight.”

You’ve overwatered your marigolds.

Has his voice really swept you this far away?

“No,” you say, and shake your head, even though he can’t see it. “No fucking way.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “You have anything better to do?”

You don’t, but you take a deep breath and prepare yourself to lie-

“I’ll treat you good,” he suddenly says, and his voice is low and sticky-sweet, dripping with honey. “I promise.”

He says it in a way that makes your knees weak.

You physically have to sit down- he knows how to get what he wants.

Could you actually do this?

Could you go out on a date with a crude, pretentious, trust-fund piece of trash, who probably thinks you’re easy, who’s only calling you because he’s bored, who has already subtly insulted you twice in this conversation alone-

-who got your number from his cousin that you both decidedly dislike, who kissed your cheek like you were pretty in the dark of the night, in his cold car?

“Fine,” you say. “Take me out.”

***

He doesn’t tell you that you look nice- he just stares.

There is something predatory in his eyes.

You’re out on a Wednesday night with a bad man, wasting your time, trying to get something out of nothing, smiling a fake smile when he orders you a drink you don’t like, already irritated with him, and trying too hard to stop looking at his face.

How are you actually interested?

You tell him that you’re in medical school.

“Really,” he says, like he doesn’t believe you. “You don’t strike me as that kind of girl.”

Underneath the table, you clench your hands for some sense of control, but still feel like you’re spinning. “What kind of girl?”

“Smart,” he says, and picks up his drink. The glass sweats beads of condensation, wetting the tips of his fingers. “I didn’t know you were smart.”

You shouldn’t dignify his flimsy insult with a response- he’s just trying to get a rise out of you, trying to make you roll your eyes or scowl or shiver. He wants you unsettled.

But the moral high ground is, unfortunately, too high.

“And I didn’t know that you’re such a terrible date.”

His teeth gleam white when he smiles. He knows.

He knows that he can say whatever the hell he wants, because he has money, and those eyes, and that insufferably nice rich-boy hair, and that sweater with its charmingly frayed hems, and that voice- he has everything, and then some, and he’s about to have you, too, if he keeps on looking at you like he already does.

“You’re so sweet,” he says.

“Fuck off.”

He winks and you could cry, you’re so fucking bothered-

You’re not usually this uptight, but he has you so drastically wound up that every little thing he does, even how he’s sitting- body sprawled, manspreading- is fire licking up on your skin, scorching-hot and ruining you with no remorse, like you have done something to deserve it.

When his eyes trail down, from your eyes to your mouth to your neck to below, you are so acutely aware of wanting him that you feel guilty. Like it’s a crime.

***

You don’t seem like the type of girl to fuck on the first date.

So, of course, Ransom tries to fuck on the first date.

As you stand outside the restaurant, in your dress and strappy sandals, you look so tense that he wants to laugh.

He can’t help it, because this whole thing you have going on- this weariness you approach everything with, this attitude- is so funny. Maybe, in any other situation, it would be irritating, but he’s been so bored lately that it’s stirring.

“Do you want to go back to my place?” he asks, quietly, taking a step closer to you so that at this very moment, under the waning sun, you should be able to just lean up and kiss him-

You blink slowly and keep your silence.

This is fucking tedious.

This should be so easy- all he has to do is settle his hands somewhere soft and let time pass, and then before he knows it you’re there and under and begging. But he can’t bring himself to touch you just yet, not when his head is calling you pathetic, and his heart calls you-

His heart just calls you.

You start to answer, and then hesitate. All five stages of grief flicker over your face at once- denial to acceptance in the same breath.

“Sure,” you say, unevenly, desperately-

When you step inside his house, your eyes go wide. As you take it in- the decor, the windows, the excess, he locks the door behind him and takes you in.

You step further inside, and he thinks of where it would be best, but then your eyes crease as you smile- it’s impossible to wait when your smile looks like that- and so he backs you right into the closest wall, cups your face with both of his hands and kisses you.

He kisses you and you curl your hands over his shoulders and immediately kiss back, and he is taken aback and delighted.

And he knew- the entire time at dinner when you were making eyes at him like you couldn’t believe that you were actually sitting there, present in that moment- he knew that secretly, you’re a freak. He knew it- he knows it.

He hopes it.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispers, right into your mouth, when your heart has been beating right into his for a while, “Let me fuck you right here.”

You bite his lip.

He takes a hand away from your face and reaches under your dress fast, rucking it all the way up your thighs, trailing up to touch you-

“Fuck,” you gasp, and arch your back up against the wall, and he grips you a little tighter-

He presses a finger into you- pushing aside your underwear and, good grief, you’re already wet- harshly, and pulls away from your mouth, so he can watch your face.

The lines creasing your forehead look like poetry.

He thinks he likes you. It’s a shame he had to meet you through Meg- it would be nice if he had met you somewhere else, on his own.

That way, he’d be able to waltz in one day, to another insipid family gathering, with you tucked under his arm. You, with your promise of a medical degree and your strappy sandals, and your iron grip on his shoulders and your drawn out breath of a moan-

The looks on their faces would be priceless.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and he’s a little irritated at how cracked his voice sounds, but it’s the right thing to say- you swear again and he picks up his pace, pressing hard on your clit. “If you’ll be good to me.”

“I’ll-” you say, and you’re actually stuttering, and breaking out into a lovely sweat, still forced back into the wall with his hand and body. He leans closer, so he can’t tell where you and him and the wall start and end. “I’ll be- fuck, Ransom-”

You still have your arms wrapped around him, like an embrace. He keeps one hand between your thighs, your dress pooling over his arm like water, and uses his other to work at his belt buckle.

This is also funny- you stay exactly how you are, even though at that moment, there is nothing holding you back.

***

The world is begging for you to consider your actions.

But you don’t. You know that when he offers, you’ll meet him again.

It should be too late. You’re exhausted, from a day full of lectures and an evening spent in a lab, working as a professor’s research assistant, and then studying for a few hours in the library- all you really want to do is sleep.

But then he calls.

The night is suddenly brimming with possibility, and you’ve never been more awake.

On a whim, Ransom suggests ice cream, and because you can’t bring yourself to deny him, you end up at a place that you would never go for- where everything is handmade and served in thick paper cups with multicolored plastic spoons, but he pays, because of his stupid ego or fragile masculinity or whatever the hell, so you don’t care.

He stands next to you as you order, and his shoulder keeps on brushing into yours. You can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. In the glass shield that the tubs of ice cream sit behind, you’re both reflected, your body warped and tall, his body warped and taller. In the glass, his eyes meet yours.

The tension is strong- it’s only a matter of time.

Your heart flutters.

When you sit, he bumps his knees against yours- you’re sure it’s on purpose, now, but you don’t say anything. What even is there to say?

That you like it?

When he digs into his ice cream, the plastic spoon- a green one- snaps in his hand.

And because you’re so caught up in your own ridiculous thoughts, before he can go back up to get another, you pull your own from your mouth- a pink one- and offer it to him.

The proposition makes him smile.

Why does he smile like that? Each movement, each twitch of muscle is so perfectly detached and coordinated- it’s violent.

But he still takes the spoon from you gently, with a soft hand.

He’s too pretty to be mean, you think, but against any type of judgement- not just the better kind- you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You let yourself laugh and he scowls.

“This place sucks,” he says, like he isn’t the one who chose it.

He adjusts the womens’ scarf he’s always wearing, carefully arranging it over himself so it looks like it was carelessly thrown on. The blue in the paisley print brings out his eyes- it makes him look so stupidly hot that you start to get angry.

You just shrug. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

He puts your spoon in his mouth and looks at you.

Again, the night ends at his place- this time on an actual bed, because you ask for it, and you think he likes how you look when you ask for things in the current state state you’re in-

He fucks you in the dark, and swears into your ear, and is not kind or soft in any way, but after he finishes, he takes the time to kiss the spot in between your breasts, and you think that maybe he isn’t entirely horrible. The bedsheets are cool against your skin, and his mouth is always hot.

You leave without a word.

***

He takes you out this time, in a real, urgent show of wealth- he picks you up in his fancy car, takes you to a fancy restaurant where the numbers next to the fancy menu items are all appalling, where he spends the whole time making these awful, unfunny innuendos that still manage to rile you up, because they’re coming from his mouth-

On the way back, while waiting at a stoplight, you take a deep breath and brace yourself before looking at him.

He really is gorgeous- all lazy grace and harsh angles. The light colors his face red, red in his eyes and in the plane of his cheekbone and in the slope of his mouth- like a beautiful warning sign. His hands are carelessly draped over the steering wheel and, despite the warning, you reach out and trace a finger over his knuckles.

His whole body jerks.

You quickly draw your hand back.

“What?” he asks sharply. He’s staring at you like you’re crazy.

You don’t know why this is suddenly so fucking embarrassing, all you did was touch him- but you suddenly feel terrible, and-

“Nothing,” you say, with the same tone, and whip your head away from him to the window, where you smolder in the dark and furiously stare at nothing.

The light turns green. He takes his foot off the break and all but slams it on the gas pedal, driving as atrociously as ever, looking over at you for a split second when you don’t protest. The blood rushing in your ears is too loud for you to think- you can’t form any words.

Once it subsides, marginally, you add, “Sorry.”

His jaw tenses.

You look back over at him, at his ring, and imagine it pressing into your neck.

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” he suddenly asks- suddenly demands, with a blazing authority that makes your stomach do flips.

You don’t know what answer he wants. “Um, one time I snuck out of-“

“Let’s do something crazier.”

On an abandoned road, he pulls over, and then you’re under him in the backseat- doing something crazier.

You might have some type of psychic tendencies, because his ring presses heavy into your neck as he pushes himself inside you, starting at a bruising pace, and then he says your name in the dark, and he looks so beautifully flushed, startling when you grab his hair, laughing when your hand accidentally skims his thigh, smiling when you come-

You wish you had the resolve to put an end to this.

You wish you could stay when it’s over.

***

You don’t like his house.

It’s not the brownstone you imagined, but rather a huge, minimalistic box, with too many windows and spotless paint and modern wood fixtures. Ransom has all of these customary rich-person things, including stately furniture and eclectic art pieces and tall shelves stuffed with books, but owning any actual personality has escaped him.

Standing in his house feels like standing in an empty room- it’s all so apathetic.

Still, you show up when he calls.

You haven’t done anything this bad before.

But there’s a first time for everything, right? First time for enjoying bruises and biting and an unwavering grip on your neck or hips or waist or thighs, first time leaving something so intense so awkwardly.

Each time is worse than the last, with the awkwardness spiraling, accruing beyond reason, and each time you struggle with what to say- even now, you just do your best to stay quiet as you start to get up, reaching for your clothes-

Ransom drapes a heavy arm over you before you have the chance.

“You can stay,” he says flippantly, and then shifts to pull you close to him, so that you are suddenly lying bare-backed against his chest, so that his sweat-slick body and heartbeat imprints itself on your skin.

Is he asking?

You crane your head over your shoulder to get a look at him.

He returns your stare like he’s been waiting for it.

His face is still flushed pink and a lock of hair hangs low over his forehead, and if you were any braver, you would comb a hand through it, gently, with no real intentions. He’s breathtaking. Even the new, foreign purple under his eyes is a sight- pretty like something you would want to kiss.

“You want me to stay?”

He rolls his eyes and tilts his head back. You would lick the sweat from the divots of his neck, if he asked you to.

“Or leave, if you want. I could care less.”

He cares

You know it because his grip is unwavering, because the terseness in his eyes is enough to make you look away.

Eventually, you settle a hand over his arm and try your best not to tremble. Ransom mumbles something under your breath- you can’t make any of it out, but you don’t ask him to repeat it, for the fear that it’ll upset this fragile bedroom balance you’ve so painstakingly built yourself into-

He wants you to stay.

“Are you okay?” you ask, because you don’t think he is.

He inhales. You feel his chest against you; it’s shaky. You wonder, for a second, about who he might actually be, underneath the arrogance and egotism and constant need to be an asshole- is he someone you could like without feeling bad about it?

“Yeah,” he says, and throws his other arm over you, so that he is holding you. “Why?”

There isn’t a genuine bone in this man’s body, but he genuinely sounds confused.

It’s possible that you’re the one who isn’t okay.

“Because,” you say, and take a great leap of faith- holding your bare heart in your hands, you turn to face him.

You’re fully exposed and subjected to his gaze- it’s nearly eviscerating. His eyes dip down to your chest and something like insecurity flares in your chest. It’s awful and terrible and you urgently want to kiss him on the lips.

He always kisses you first. You don’t know if you have it in you to kiss him yet.

You wouldn’t ever try, in case you don’t.

“You look kind of tired,” you say, and his eyes bore into you with a sinking weight, threatening to drown. One of his hands finds a blooming bruise on your skin and lightly presses. He doesn’t react when you wince. The action is still kind- almost tender.

He sighs, and it is such a delicate breath, fanning hot over your skin.

“I’m not tired,” he says, almost childishly.

You might be overstepping. But you don’t even know where the lines have been drawn.

“Okay,” you say, and because you would not dare kiss his lips, you lean close and kiss his jaw instead.

He startles and then gives you a crooked, lazy smile. He is everything good, you think- for this one moment. Pretty and soft-handed and made of glass and honey and all other lovely things.

You tuck your head in the crook of his neck and wrap an arm over his, tight, so he knows you are there, and hope for the best.

***

In your spare moments, you’re always thinking.

Ransom knows this because of how you look when you do it- your brow furrows and your eyes go glassy, and you frown with an intensity that he has never seen on anyone else.

It happens when you finish a sentence, when you have no response for him, when he is still talking but you’ve stopped listening. When you think it’s quiet.

It never happens during sex- is it pathetic to take pride in that?

As he stands in your apartment for the first time ever, you look like you’re in near-despair, like your thoughts are wreaking havoc on your mind, destructive and distressing. You wear basketball shorts and a college sweatshirt and glasses.

He didn’t know you wore glasses, and that you looked like this in them- he’s been missing out.

“Hi,” you say, and stare at him with troubled eyes.

Your apartment is so small. He almost feels claustrophobic, standing in here. When was the last time he willingly stood somewhere so small?

The lengths he’ll go to, for…

For you, he supposes.

“Hi,” he says, and wonders, also for the first time ever, what it is that you’re always thinking. “Why do you have so many plants?”

On the windowsill, with even spacing in between, sits an entire row of glass jars housing plants- all singular flower stems, some budding, some in bloom. The petals of a marigold brush against the window, orange against the grey outside. It’s cute, he absently thinks, in a struggling, shabby type of way.

“It’s just something I do for fun,” you say, sounding irritated. “Like, a hobby.”

Infringing on the living room space is a small table, cluttered with textbooks and pens and an open laptop with its screen dark.

It still baffles him that you’re smart.

“So,” you start, and cross your arms over your chest. He feels kind of offended, because he’s just realized that he really only knows a handful of things about you, and even that handful is sparse, slipping through his fingers. “Why’d you want to see me?”

He called on impulse.

He’s just- he’s in what someone could call a mood, where he hates everything and has the intense desire to ruin something, and while he was thinking of how to fix it- beyond just getting wasted- he thought of you.

And when he called, you were sounding so tired and so he even said he could just meet you here, so you wouldn’t have to drive, so you could squeeze in a few more minutes of studying before he inevitably invades your mind-

Easily, he deflects. Nearby, there’s a hallway with two doors, one of which is tightly closed shut.

“What’s in there?” he asks, and points towards it.

You relax, slightly.

He wants to gather you up in his arms, but he doesn’t know for whose sake- his or yours?

“That’s my brother’s room,” you say, and your shoulders slump, and he resists the urge to pull you upright, and the urge to gawk. Brother? “He lives with me. But he’s studying abroad this semester.”

“Where?”

“Prague.”

He nods. This is a stiff, perfect, shocking distraction. “Nice city.”

You nod distantly and head back to the table to put your things away.

“Yeah,” you say, after too long of a pause, as you start to cap pens and set them aside. You look at him as you do it, and so you miss a few times, accidentally drawing dark lines of ink all over your fingers. “I’m glad he got to go. When we were kids, he was obsessed with wanting to travel- he had this entire map in our room, and he would draw stars over every country he wanted to visit, and there were, like, a hundred of them, and he could list every single one, in the exact order he wanted to visit, and he could even list the capitals- I’m sorry. You probably don’t care about any of this.”

He doesn’t.

Or, he shouldn’t, but your eyes are clearer, and as you neatly stack your textbooks in an order only known to you, he is almost intrigued.

He’s longing for you- when you are right there.

He feels like a person outside of himself, when you look at him and smile tiredly.

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

There’s a cheesy ‘90s horror movie you find after a few minutes of channel surfing, complete with terrible special effects and edited-out profanity. The days are longer, now, and to stop the sun from casting a glare over the screen, you close all the blinds. It adds to the atmosphere, you say lightly, fully phased out of whatever just possessed you, and his hands are so itchy- itching to do something.

He sits. Patience is a virtue, but he is not virtuous, and so when you sit next to him and bring your knees to your chest, making yourself small, he goes to-

Something in his stomach stops him.

It’s butterflies- is he actually nervous?

This is so fucking infuriating.

You’ve got him trapped in some type of pain-and-power-play, some type of unassuming purgatory, and all he can bring himself to do is lightly brush a hand against your shoulder. You smile at his touch and his heart fucking breaks.

As the second boy in the friend group gets murdered onscreen, you close your eyes and duck your head into your knees.

“Tell me when it’s over,” you say, voice muffled.

“Scaredy-cat,” he says, even though this is no time for jokes.

You crack one eye open, looking only at him, and give him the finger.

Come here, he almost demands. The butterflies protest- he holds his tongue.

The dance continues. When the sun sets, everything darkens, settling into a dim blue. You look like something out of a painting. Faintly sad, unusually serene. The skin around your eyes has smoothened- you’ve stopped thinking so hard and he can suddenly breathe easier because of it-

And then there’s a jumpscare, and he shouts, “Jesus!”

The murderer has broken down a door, and all of the remaining characters are screaming, and you burst out laughing.

He’s in the middle of a crisis, and you’re laughing.

You lean into him as you laugh, with your head turned away from the screen and your eyes open, looking at him so fondly that he suddenly feels violated, and you let your shoulder brush against his.

“Scaredy-cat” you tease, and it’s absolutely now or never-

You’re making him weak- it takes too much time and effort for him to draw an arm over you.

You don’t flinch, but he is sure that you can hear his heart beating dangerously fast, without abandon, like it's trying to break free of his ribcage. He almost gasps when you come even closer and lightly kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around him, and his head is just saying yes yes yes-

Your mouth goes over his ear, lips ghosting over skin. He waits, more scared than he’s ever been in his entire life, for what you have to say.

***

So this is Ransom’s deep, dark, ugly secret.

He likes to be cuddled.

If it were anyone else, you would laugh.

But it’s Ransom, and so you just take it in stride, as part of his extremely fucked-up psyche that is probably a result of a hundred things he’ll never tell you- childhood trauma and neglect and the consequences that come with having more money than you need or deserve.

He’s always talking, always talking shit, always talking over you and over everyone else, and you realize, one day, that he really only is treading water- he’s only focused on staying afloat, speaking whatever he wants, but never actually saying anything.

He’s responsible for his faults, of course. But still, when he smiles in low light or curls his hands over yours so viciously, you don’t know if you should leave, or if you should just stay and pity him quietly.

You’re starting to like him too much to even care.

He starts coming around more. And he actually stays, and starts leaving pieces of himself behind. He has a toothbrush next to yours and a phone charger on his side of the bed and imported, undoubtedly expensive snacks in the kitchen.

He leaves clothes, too- you wash them with yours and keep them, neatly folded, in your closet.

On a warm day in May, he meets you at a cafe.

He does most of the talking, like always. It’s been months, already, but you still find it difficult to start conversations.

You still have trouble telling him certain things without feeling like you have to defend yourself, and he still rarely deviates from being a total dick, even when you hold him or have his head in your lap, when you make him laugh or when you kiss him.

Or when you put your hands in the sleeves of his sweaters and rub your palms against his forearms, because he’s always running warm and your hands are always cold.

He always acts like it annoys him, jumps when your hands meet his skin- but you know he secretly likes it, because whenever you’re done he pulls the hems all the way over his hands and looks at you with something amazed in his eyes.

With the weather warming up, he’s ditched the sweaters and taken to wearing these awful fucking short-sleeved button-downs, all unnecessarily tight and showing way too much collarbone. He’s making you sweat.

“You’re staring,” he says, and smiles, self-satisfied.

You bring your straw to your lips and shake your head. “I’m not.”

He knows that you can’t help it- he is always so gorgeous. He’s infuriatingly pretty.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says, and nudges your foot under the table, voice suddenly low, and it’s like, holy shit-

You bring your drink down and lean over the table, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and kiss him quickly.

He tastes like bitter coffee.

You’re sad, all of a sudden.

When you settle back in your seat, you clear your throat like nothing happened. You want to lean in again and button up the rest of his shirt, and kiss him again. You want to come so close that your noses touch, and then yell at him, just for being him.

He looks appalled

“What was that for?”

It’s the first time you’ve ever done this.

“No reason,” you say. “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it,” he repeats, and it’s like the same reaction from the night at the stoplight, and you realize-

He’s dumbstruck.

Then, just as quickly as it came, it disappears. He sets his jaw like he’s about to get up and leave. You try not to scowl, even though you feel like you’re drifting, tide carrying you away, sand clean and smooth on where your body once was-

It gets to you.

“Can I not just kiss you?” you snap harshly, glaring at him with a ferocity you don’t think he’s ever seen.

It’s inevitable- the result of months of frustration. You can only suppress yourself for so long. Why, you want to ask, why are you not entitled to him the way he is to you and everything else? Can you not ask for him so wholly?

He flinches.

Ransom Drysdale, asshole extraordinaire, flinches.

It brings a small sliver of satisfaction with it. There’s some nerve you’ve struck, and the discontent on his face is steadily growing-

You pay it no mind, drinking the rest of your iced coffee in calm silence.

Outside, the day is vaguely summery, where the sun is out and strong, but still too cold in the shade. You stare past his head, towards the door. How quickly can you leave?

“You can,” he says quietly, when you’re rising to throw your cup in the trash. “Whenever you want.”

His eyelashes are so long- they command a moment of attention all on their own when he blinks- soft and slow and gazing at you from underneath them. You wonder if he is doing this for the same reason you are. If he’s lonely, too.

When was the last time you had the dream with the bird?

You smirk. “Whenever?”

He is forlorn.

You like him better in the spring.

“Whenever.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you say, and make your voice low, since two can play at that game.

He considerably perks up.

***

When you wake up, he’s still in your bed.

Lately, he’s been spending more time at your place than his. You think that all those windows are finally starting to get to him.

Ransom always holds you fiercely in his sleep. You break free as gently as you can and take him in for a brief moment- you like how he looks when he’s asleep. Unconcerned, chest rising slow with each breath, hair splayed over the pillow in nearly every direction. He almost looks innocent.

You get up quietly, even though there’s no chance he’ll stir- he sleeps like the dead.

Daylight filters through the blinds in white-yellow streams, dappling him golden.

You almost take a picture, but regretfully leave the room for other tasks- you stretch and water your plants and check your email, and then sit down at the table to Skype your brother.

He picks up fast.

“Hey!” you say, and at once feel so much relief, to see his grainy, smiling face on your laptop screen.

Europe has done him good- he’s grown out his hair, and his skin is glowing, and he looks so happy.

He tells you about what he’s been doing lately, studying architecture. It makes you so proud, this fact alone- that unlike you, he can do whatever he wants and doesn’t have the looming promises of debt and academic burnout and crushing, ever-present stress hovering over his shoulders. It is so good to see him, and you are so grateful that he can be who he wants to be, do what he wants to do-

“Holy shit, who is that?”

He’s looking past you. You turn around and almost jump-

Ransom stands in the kitchen, shirtless and rummaging through the cupboards. He waves at you.

You would think that someone like Ransom would exclusively sleep in, like, silk pajama sets, or something, but at least he’s in sweatpants- however low-rise they might be, however loosely knotted the drawstring is. It’s better than nothing, at least- what if he had walked out in nothing?

When you turn back to the screen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your camera feed- you look absolutely mortified.

You are absolutely mortified. This is the start of what can only be a nightmare.

“Are you dating that guy?” your brother asks incredulously. He’s still staring at Ransom with his jaw hanging loose. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No,” you say forcefully, without thinking. “That’s, um... “

Hopelessly, you gesture back towards him, trying to come up with the words. Nothing feels right in your mouth- every title you can come up with is too consequential, too heavy.

“...That’s Ransom.”

“Weird name,” your brother says, and grins.

You take a breath that feels more like a gasp. “I know.”

“Hey,” Ransom says, from the back, and continues to loudly open and close the cupboards- what the fuck is he even looking for? You don’t keep enough shit in there to warrant this much noise- he’s doing this for theatrics.

“I think I’m going to go,” you say loudly. “Love you.”

“Bye,” your brother says, and he’s grinning stupidly, like a madman.

You disconnect and feel like you might faint.

Not your boyfriend, right?

“Was that your brother?” Ransom asks, casually, finally finding what he was looking for- two mugs. There is no way that he didn’t come across them earlier.

“Yeah- yes,” you say shakily. It feels like someone has filled your brain with fizzy water.

There’s a few boys your brother has met over the years, but you’ve always been careful. Because an introduction is like making a statement- it’s like saying that this person you’re with is important enough to you that they’re going to overlap, exist in more than just one part of your life.

But Ransom is a catastrophe of a person- you can barely handle him as he is. How could you ever have him as anything more?

He goes through the cupboards, again, and finds a box of teabags. “The one studying abroad?”

“I only have one brother,” you snap.

“Okay,” he says, totally unbothered, surprising you. He’s not a morning person in the slightest- why is he being so cordial? “Where do you keep your kettle?”

“Second cupboard on the right,” you say, and bury your head in your hands.

He looks at you. He is so many things, but never kind, until now. His hair, in its adorable bedhead, flops over his eyes. Before, it was only almost, but now, you think, he looks completely innocent, like the type of guy you could give kisses without feeling nervous, the type of guy you wouldn’t deny as your boyfriend.

What is wrong with him?

What is wrong with you?

At the end of the day, he’s always there- you’re exclusive, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough to deserve a title?

He finds the kettle, and then sifts through the box. He sorts through different flavors with a gentle precision you’ve never seen before- is this really him? Is he the type of person that is gentle and precise?

The uneven smattering of blue-black bruises on your thighs say no.

You’re so confused that your head hurts.

“None of these flavors are any good,” Ransom says, and shakes his head. His hair shines in the morning light. “Earl Grey- who the hell drinks Earl Grey?”

“Don’t insult my tea like that,” you say, and he looks back at you and gives you a brilliant flash of a smile.

If he’s bothered at all by your denial, he never brings it up.

*** He’s too far gone.

He’s in freefall, feeling weak- he’s fucking succumbed.

To you. To your comebacks and the world-weary gaze you have of everything, to your nonsensical collection of plants and your painfully unattractive basketball shorts, to the way you laugh too loud and too little, to the way you say his name, where he can never tell if you’re happy with him or exasperated-

It’s wrong.

But, he thinks, so are all of these other things, like drugs and alcohol and blowing money on shit he doesn’t need- and you make him feel better than any of those things ever have, so why should anybody have a problem with it? A week goes by after you tell your brother that he isn’t your boyfriend- and it doesn’t bother him, because he’s never wanted that title in the first place, never has- but it obviously bothers you.

You’re disappointed in yourself, because you think you’re supposed to be better than him, because you’re so smart and he is so terrible.

He hopes that that’s not how you actually think. It hurts him to0 much to even consider it, and so he doesn’t, and so he thinks of how to keep his hold on you, and then he thinks of why he even wants to-

The truth is too apparent to deny.

After a week, he calls.

***

He’s very slow.

Not tired- just consumed with the sudden need to savor things. When you let yourself into his arms, Ransom treats you like you’re fragile.

“What’s up with you?” you ask, and as he stares, your voice reduces to something small. You go timid when his eyes are on yours, he realizes, and the thought sends a thrill through his body- he slowly rocks you, to calm himself.

Your shirt is off and you wear a bra with a small lace trim- not racy, but very cute- and he just keeps on staring.

Wow, he thinks. He fucked up good.

“Nothing,” he says, and moves one hand from your waist- he has you in his lap, straddling him- up to the top of your neck. He trails down and over to your collarbone, hooking a finger into your bra strap.

You laugh, breathy and indecent.

He lifts it, subtly, and you whine, and he bites back his own.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, and kisses your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Ransom,” you gasp, with your hands splayed over his back. He slowly skims his hand over, to your back, feeling every little thing, dip and contour and curve, everything- and then unhooks it, and you are bared to him and he is breathless.

He takes you by the shoulders and twists, to bring you down, to pin you against the bed. Your comforter is dark blue, like ocean water.

Your eyes are endless, like ocean water.

“Are you upset about something?”

Your chest rises and falls and he almost reaches for the waistband of your underwear, but stops himself. He presses a wet kiss to one of your breasts, and you arch into his mouth. He feels like you know every single secret of his, when he has told you none.

You know by accident that he’s ticklish. That’s it.

“I’m not,” he says. “I promise.”

He bends low to kiss down the length of your body, repositions his hands to hold your waist. He thinks that this is more intense- it is just his mouth and your skin and the sound of your breath hitching.

He still has it put together, remarkably well- unfathomably well.

“I feel like there’s something you’re- ah- not telling me, honey.”

That does it.

He grips your waist harder, in the way he knows you always like, so that tomorrow he will be able to retrace his steps, follow the blue-

“Say that again,” he says, and presses a soft kiss over you- even through your underwear, with its delicate lace trim, he can feel how wet and wanting and ready you are for him.

“Say- fuck- say what?”

Your hand flails, for a second, before you thread it through his hair, and yank. It hurts, pleasantly.

He hooks his fingers into your waistband and shimmies it down your thighs, and you instinctively spread your legs. He puts his mouth to your slit, slicker than he imagined, and the heady arousal rushing through his mind- and everywhere else- is nearly enough to make him forget what you even said-

He is quite possibly drunk off of you alone, and he wants to slap himself, and, like, press you so close into him that you forget your way out.

With the spare glow of one lamp, you look like you’re made of gold.

He breaks away from you for a terrible moment to strip, and with one hand he teases your clit, and with the other he pumps himself, hard, once, twice, three times in anticipation-

“Don’t make me ask again,” he says, and comes back up to cup your face once more, and slips his hand back down into you at the same time, with his cock hard against your thigh- this is all quite slippery- the game you’re playing at and the risk he’s trying to take-

“Honey,” you say, and you’re smiling deliriously, but shakily. “Honey honey honey.”

“You’re killing me,” he says, and his voice, in a moment of terrible, vulnerable, unspeakable betrayal, cracks.

“Good,” you say, but your voice is all wobbly as he lines himself up and roughly pushes into you, holding you a little tighter to keep you steady. “You deserve it.”

He kisses you openmouthed, with his teeth scraping- it’s rough and jarring, the way you always take it. Against his mouth, you swear incoherently, stringing together a litany of curses with his name thrown in between, and goddamn him- it makes him smile.

He wastes no time- he can’t be patient any longer, not when he has you under him like this, and so he goes fast, snapping into you at a bruising pace and keeping his mouth close, and rubbing at your clit, to overstimulate you and make everything faster, harsher, more immediate-

When you come you always say his name, thickly with gravel in your voice, and gasp like the breath has been stolen from your lungs. This time, when you are so far gone that he thinks you’re beyond the realms of sound, and sight, too, with your eyes tightly screwed shut, he says it, for the sake of himself.

“I think I love you-”

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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 3 years

Text

And now I’ve watched episode 3 of Walker because of reasons. (You guys asked, that’s reasons.) #2

If you guys haven’t seen part 1, go see it immediately. Because of reasons. This time, reasons is Slutty Glitter Cowboy Stripper. No, it’s not a joke.

Yeah, I’m not sure what’s happening either.

I can’t believe they’re airing cowboy strippers in Supernatural’s air slot and Dean Winchester isn’t there. I think this is why they had to kill Dean, because otherwise he would have ripped through the CW’s show layout and appeared in Walker sponteneously, instantly adopting Walker’s entire family and friends as his own and single-handedly implementing the depolicement of the state of Texas, with Castiel rolling his eyes at him in the background while he murders ICE agents at the US-Mexican border.

*slides the CW a twenty euro bill* so I have an idea for season 2 of Walker

Anyway, there’s this lady Walker and Ramirez are doing a stakeout on, a woman called Torreto who is presumably part of some criminal organization since they’re doing a stakeout on her, and who’s bisexual given she was being entertained by a lady and a guy at a strip club. Which is like, fine, not problematic at all, alright.

So the stripper straddles her and is like ~wanna come with me in the back, and she’s like ~maybe another time, and he’s like ~torreto i saw cops outside you probably wanna come to the back with me, and she’s like ~mmm yeah that sounds like a good idea. We were rooting for you, slutty glitter cowboy stripper! We were all rooting for you! Or not.

Meanwhile, Walker has horrible car manners.

Also, he asks her how her parents were to her growing up, which is a question you normally ask to people you’re not close to when you want to do some small talk. For some reason she brings up a friend she had some ~crazy teen years~ with, called Garrison, which doesn’t make me think of angels in Supernatural, no, I am a normal person.

But then people start coming out of the strip club, but not Torreto. So they go in.

Torreto is not there, so Walker just stops the first person he sees and he’s literally like ~excuse me, do you know if there’s someone in the back. The visual is hilarious

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen my brother from another show, I suspect he might be here”

Give me a spinoff about this strip club.

Anyway, the guys answers, “No, why, you two interested?” to which they immediately answer “no!” at the same time, and share a look which makes me think we’re supposed to be like ~~ooh, talking in unison moment! or something...?

Meanwhile their truck gets stolen, and Walker yells that his bobblehead is in there. Cue disgruntled Jared face.

Oh man. We are at the title card. It’s less than 6 minutes. This will never end.

It was night, now it’s day, and Stella and August are walking around Austin. He’s mimicking David Attenborough, describing the teenagers around them as though he was doing a documentary about animals.

Two girls approach them, bringing up a party that’s taking place tomorrow. She says it’s not the best idea with her court date approaching. The girls are like, your dad can figure something out, he’s an elite ranger or something and also owes you for disappearing for a year. She’s like, he’s being kind of cool, I don’t want to ruin this, and the girls “call BS” because this is like “the best party of the year”.

Ruby, the girl August has been hanging out with, appears and August goes from “nah the party is not my thing” to “I’ll totally be there” in like 0.02 seconds.

I cannot overstate how much I am not interested in high schooler drama.

Meanwhile, at the Walker Seniors’ place, Walker’s parents are preparing the table for a family dinner. From their banter we can infer someone’s who ~is like family although he isn’t “blood”~ is coming for dinner and Grandpa Walker doesn’t like him at all and actually expects the guy to steal their china and bourbon. “It’s been years, could you please give him a chance?” Grandma Walker says, and he accepts, although she grabs the fancy bourbon from behind his back.

Meanwhile, at the police station, all the cops are having a briefing about Torreto, the woman at the strip club. She apparently steals weapons all over Texas and sells them over the border at triple the cost. Remember that Torreto escaped from Walker and Ramirez because she stole their truck while they were inside the strip club. Ramirez is worried she’ll already become the laughingstock of the precinct.

Uh. James plays security camera footage from outside the strip club. Walker and Ramirez’ truck was stolen by Torreto and the cowboy stripper himself.

Obviously the other cops laugh when Ramirez admits it was her truck.

James tells them to find Torreto, find the truck, and find out who the naked cowboy is.

I have a bad feeling about this.

Then Walker drives home, and as soon as he gets out of his car, you know how in the Supernatural pilot Dean gets into Sam’s apartment and wrestles him before revealing it’s him to ~test if his fighting skills are rusty and laughs when Sam realizes it’s him? Alright, now think intensely and guess how Walker’s like-a-brother best friend is introduced. Think intensely! It’s really difficult to guess!

Something something about violence and male intimacy except this is too ridiculous to, you know, write something serious about it.

“Oh, man!” the guy laughs, lying on the ground where Walker threw him. “The look on your face!”

“You son of a-”

“Oh, c’mon man, don’t talk bad of a mother I never knew.”

I’m facepalming soooo hard. This is the first thing we learn about him (well, after the fact that he definitely stole something from the Walkers’ house in the past), that he never knew his mother!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT

GUYS

I AM SO SORRY

I am faceblind I didn’t realize

THE GUY IS THE STRIPPER

I REPEAT

THE “DEAN BUT IN JARED PADALECKI’S MIND” CHARACTER IS THE SLUTTY GLITTER COWBOY STRIPPER

THIS IS NOT A DRILL

I SWEAR MY HANDS ARE COLD AND CLAMMY

I AM EXPERIENCING EMOTIONS NO WORDS EXIST IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE TO DESCRIBE

Oh my god guys. I am so sorry.

“You did your touchdown victory dance before you stole my partner’s truck!” Walker exclaims. “I should arrest you right here and right now!”

The guy acts like he has no idea what Walker is talking about, and says he’s in town to see his best pal.

Walker keeps accusing him, but then his mother appears, super thrilled to see him, and Walker lets is go.

They’re at dinner (NotDean brought wagyu steaks, which obviously means he does crime for a living) and Walker’s mother tells him to say grace, which he does in a semi-serious, semi-mocking way. Obviously NotDean does not believe in god, but he’s grateful for the people around him.

Stella calls him uncle, in case you missed that this is supposed to be a friend whom Walker loves likeabrother.

He talks about jobs he did here and there, and Walker and his brother tease him asking if he’s been to some prisons around the country. Stella doesn’t get the joke and NotDean explains it to her, adding, “now, from what I hear, I’m not the only outlaw in this family”. Grandpa Walker leaves the room.

NotDean asks Stella if she’s going to the bonfire (the party they were talking about earlier) and tells her that her mother started the thing when they were young. She didn’t know that. This is supposed to be a Meaningful moment.

Meanwhile the stolen truck is found... at Walker’s ranch. Gasp! What a shocking turn of events.

NotDean gives Stella advice on how to act in court to get on the judge’s good graces, “which means acting”. “Please don’t get legal advice from a criminal” walker’s brother Liam says. Is the gay brother also a NotDean of sorts, to be fair? Well, CriminalNotDean tells her to dress her best and cry. ActualbrotherNotDean tells her to use the correct legal arguments. Walker just stops them, quoting something Ramirez said earlier in the episode, “nobody benefits from the easy route”. Stella is like, what does that mean, which, mood, but Grandma Walker interrupts bringing in a plate of different hot chilis. Apparently they have a tradition of a competition. Which we don’t even see. Boo.

Ramirez finds the truck... right outside the Walkers’ house. Grandpa Walker, who’d gone outside, points a rifle to her and she explains what she’s doing there. They introduce themselves and she is like, sir why is the man who stole my truck inside your house? “Wife invited him to dinner.”

She’s like, I need to arrest him. But he’s like, I bet there’s not enough evidence to arrest him, or my son would have done it. Join me for steak and burbon in the bunkhouse! As one does. So they have wagyu and bourbon together, and she asks him what’s the guy’s story.

So NotDean and Walker grew up together, NotDean had a rough life, “my wife has a soft spot for strays, she can’t give up on him”. But Grandpa Walker doesn’t feel the same. He tells her that she cannot arrest him tonight, but it’s only a matter of time before the guy gives her enough rope. He adds that Walker has a blind spot for faces from the past, and needs someone to fix that.

Meanwhile dinner’s over and NotDean calls a uber. He and Walker arrange to meet the next day and hang out like old times. Eventually, Walker tells him that if he is involved in this case, he will have to take him down. “Theoretically, if you catch me.” They do a manly hug with manly pats, and the guy leaves. “Theoretically, go to hell,” Walker says after he’s left.

The next day, NotDean brings Walker to a storage in the middle of nowhere... full of cursed objects, no wait, wrong show. What’s inside the storage is the red Mustang. Walker is shocked that he hasn’t lost it in some bet - which apparently is how he got the car from Walker in the first place. Now NotDean says that, after everything Walker’s been through, he deserves a chance to win it back.

Glowy flashback of Walker and his wife in the car, right after the scene in the beginning of the episode. They bet it during poker night, decision of Emily, because Walker is “starting to get attached to her”. Emily teases him for calling the car a she, and Walker decides to call the car Stella.

They gave their daughter the name of a car they lost at poker.

Oh. She tells him she’s pregnant.

So, apparently, they had their first daughter when they were broke, to the point they had to try and get money at poker for a bigger place and baby things. That’s... kind of irresponsible.

Meamwhile, Ramirez goes to James to tell him about the thing, but James already figured NotDean was involved, because apparently stealing things and returning them is just something he does. “Why are you so calm about this?” she asks. He says because they cannot pin anything on him. Questioning him could scare the big crime lady. So he tells her to just keep an eye on him. “Walker, Torreto or Hoyt [NotDean]” she asks. “Yes” he answers.

Blah blah. I apologize, I’m being too detailed. I’m just bored by this. Ah, a butcher’s truck was stolen right after the strip club thing, guess where NotDean got the wagyu steaks.

Walker and NotDean go to the bar with the bartender who’s their friend, and NotDean flirts with her. They start playing poker, when Ramirez arrives, and has some banter with NotDean and spills some glitter on him that she found in the truck. He buys her a drink and she arrests him for trying to bribe a police officer. Walker is shocked.

At the precinct, he says they cannot prove he’s working with big crime lady. But she brings up he stole the wagyu steaks.

She calls him out for trying to be everyone’s friend even if they do something wrong, also with Stella.

She says she can hold NotDean for 24 hours, long enough to figure out the big crime lady’s plans. Common trope in cop shows. Arrest someone without proof, you have to release them after 24 hours, but the cop finds proof and bam, forgiven for arresting someone without proof.

I know you’re bored, I’m bored too.

Actually, nope, it goes differently and kind of worse. In the interrogation room, Ramirez offers NotDean a deal: he tells her where the big crime lady’s weapon deal is happening, and walks free. He points the location on a map and he compliments her. Walker is watching from the cameras and is shook.

Meanwhile the bonfire is happening, and Stella is there with her girl friends. So is August, breakdancing to impress girls. We don’t care.

Meanwhile, a lot of cops in serious cop gear surround the location NotDean pointed at. Nobody’s there, though.

What is there, is the red Mustang with the creepy bobblehead in it and a letter from NotDean that says he gives him the car back because it was always his wife’s.

Walker figures out where the deal is actually happening - the storage where the red Mustang was before.

Meanwhile, at the bonfire, August is drunk on booze he stole from Grandpa Walker and brought to the party. He asks Stella if she’s trying to drive their father away, breaking the law and all, he asks if she wants him to leave again. Then he throws up. She calls Walker but he obviously doesn’t answer. So she calls her uncle, who’s doing shopping with his partner or something. They’re buying cake? Doing cake testing for their wedding? Maybe.

Meanwhile, NotDean calls Grandma Walker to tell her he cannot go mushroom hunting with her tomorrow but needs to leave town, and he’s sorry to let her down again. She tells him that just because his family’s bad, doesn’t mean he is too. “You saved my boy, and I’ll never forget that” she says. Oooh, that’s so intriguing!, nobody says. They share a cute moment and then he hangs up, while the weapon deal goes down around him.

Uncle Liam and his partner pick up the kids, and Stella asks him if he’ll be in court with her tomorrow. He says he can’t, because it’s her father’s decision to make.

August turns up music and they all sing in the car. It’s funny how everyone’s got better chemistry with everyone else except with Walker. I know it’s, like, on purpose for plot reasons, but still, Walker’s interactions with everyone feel so stilted compared to anyone else. And it’s not the other characters are that compelling.

The police arrives at the location of the weapon deal, and NotDean gets arrested trying to steal the truck again. Ramirez gives a speech how that’s hard but it’s the right thing to do. Walker makes a comment about tough love, implying Stella needs to get that too.

The next day, they leave for Stella’s court thing on the red Mustang. It took Walker three episodes, but now they also have a cool classic car to show off! Yay! *eyeroll*

Meanwhile, Grandma Walker and Grandpa Walker have a conversation about their failing marriage or something.

Ramirez goes to the bar to apologize to the bartender for arresting NotDean. They have a drink together and if lesbians were watching this they’d start shipping them, but no lesbians are watching this. They’re wiser than me.

Stella got like a gazillion hours of community service and her license suspended. She’s upset, but since she has her license for one more day he teaches her how to drive the Mustang.

Wait. Americans don’t learn to drive normal cars when they get their license?? They only learn to drive cars with automatic gear?? What the hell??

They drive while August runs after the car to get over his hangover or something.

Would be a cute moment if the entire thing wasn’t so cheesy and weird.

Well. We know NotDean is a recurring role so we’ll see more of him. (Well, I’m not sure I will be there to watch, because this is boring af.)

This episode used all its interest coins in the strip club scene and then became dreadfully boring. I don’t even have some witty line to close this post.

This was a rollercoaster that went my brain go through a blender in the first six minutes or so and then killed the remaining braincells through boredom.

That’s it guys. What can I say. This is the CW’s Walker. Yee.

#marghe watches walker for some darned reason #cw's jared: legit texan

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desidarling123 · 3 years

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FATWS Episode 4: A Definitive* Rank Ordering of Most Interesting Character Arcs, from Yours Truly

(*And by definitive I mean completely subjective, but yanno.)

IF YOU HAVEN'T FIGURED IT OUT BY NOW: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR FATWS. SCROLL AWAY NOW IF YOU DON'T WANT EM.

Now let's get into it:

1. John Walker

Let me start by saying -- the near-universal John Walker hate from fandom has always been largely undeserved, and that's a hill I'll die on. It comes out of, I think, a visceral sort of need to slot him into an easily understood black-or-white binary when, truthfully, he is neither, and I think this episode was the BEST example of that. The sheer range he exhibits in such a short time -- a handful of character moments and action sequences in the larger fifty minute episode -- serve to humanize him in a way that's messy and intense and very, very real.

Because MAN. Whether you were already sympathetic to John's plight or not, the death of his partner, Lemar Hoskins, is viscerally disturbing. There's no other way to put it. FATWS has not shied away from some pretty crazy onscreen kills, but this one was arguably the worst in how brutally mundane it was. Lemar was in the wrong place at the wrong time -- a man fighting amongst a whole room of super soldiers. He never stood a chance -- and yet, he still jumped in harm's way to save his best friend, a man in whom he saw indisputable goodness, even when the man could not see it himself. There's an obvious Steve/Bucky parallel here, but with a much darker and more realistic twist -- not all of us, after all, can be lucky enough to receive super strength that could save our lives. Lemar was always a regular mortal -- and for that transgression, he pays the ultimate price.

And then. What happens after. Oh. My. God. I felt Walker's rage and hopelessness through the screen. The death of that Flag Smasher -- at the hands of Captain America, no less, a man he'd admitted to admiring as a child not ten minutes earlier -- was brilliantly executed.

With the final shot of the townspeople recording the brutal murder it becomes overwhelmingly clear -- we are witnessing the tragic fall of a man who was, for all his previous missteps, trying to be a hero. But John's moral compass just died a meaningless, horrible death -- and without him by his side, Walker has become a man unhinged.

2. Bucky Barnes and Ayo

I debated putting this one at number two because I'd argue there were some weird elements to the writing choices made (more on that in a sec), but, nevertheless. Bucky and Ayo get slot #2.

That flashback to Wakanda got me excited, but I didn't expect my heart to get shattered almost right away. Oh. My. God. His interactions with Ayo BROKE ME. There's so much nuance in a scene that’s incredibly well-acted by both Sebastian and Florence — you see both of them in a moment that is incredibly pivotal for the former’s character, and we see the latter reacting with sympathy, strength, and enormous grace. I had expected a scene like this to be with Shuri (given that we last saw her with Bucky in the post credits of Black Panther) but, given the context of what was being performed (a final test of the trigger words) having Ayo there made a lot of sense. She could take him down if need be — but as the scene so wonderfully shows, thankfully, she doesn’t have to. Instead, she’s there to let him know that for the first time in almost a century, he’s free again.

Now, let’s get into some of the unevenness. I had hoped, at the end of the last episode, that Bucky had at least informed the Dora Milaje of his liaison with Zemo — that, perhaps, it had been Bucky’s intent to hand him over all along. Alas, that was not the case — Bucky, it seems, had broken Zemo out with little thought to — or perhaps simply silent acceptance of — the consequences that would come with it.

This is the part, again, where the writing felt a bit weak. We know from the opening shots of the episode that Bucky cares enormously for Ayo — they’re not simply soldiers in arms, but they’ve shared a moment of immense vulnerability together. We ALSO know that he cares enormously for T’Challa, for Shuri, and for Wakanda as a country (see Infinity War, where he says “I love this place” in reference to his new home).

So that begs the question — why? Why did he betray them in that way, besides sheer desperation for a lead? And it’s not one, I’d argue, that we are given a satisfying answer to. Bucky has been reckless to an alarming degree in the last few episodes, but not informing Wakanda of his intention to liaise with the man who killed their king feels like a MAJOR tactical oversight. Is he willing to burn everything down to win this battle against the Flag Smashers? Are these his self destructive tendencies kicking in? OR, is he just truly so blinded by his emotions surrounding his past that he’s willing to throw away what could very well be his future? Only time will tell. But I hope he’ll do right by Ayo and Wakanda, as he clearly has a LOT to make up for.

3. Baron Helmut Zemo

God. I love Zemo’s psychotic, problematic ass. Say what you want, but the man is the most efficient of them all and he isn't a super soldier or an Avenger. Over and over, he shows that he's truly smarter than them and always has been.

He doesn't get personal. He doesn’t get distracted. He knows exactly what his goal is, and he executes on it. Mans didn’t hesitate to unload several bullets into Karli, and as soon as he figured out what the vials were, he destroyed all except one. Like I said, the most efficient person on the team. Has arguably done more to forward the cause against the Flag Smashers/continued existence of super soldiers than anyone else and it’s only been a few days. Between that, his god-awful dancing skills and him shooting the eugenicist scientist without so much as a blink of an eye, I think he's a man after my own heart. I’m almost sad to see him get what’s coming for him come next episode. (Because y’all, he did still kill King T’Chaka, and there’s no way the Dora leave here without taking him out on a silver platter and an apple stuffed in his mouth). But again, let’s see how that pans out.

4. Sam Wilson

WHAT are the writers doing to Sam, I swear to God? We didn't get too much introspection into where his head's at during this episode, and when we did the treatment felt uneven at best. I think, in trying to have him create a rapport with Karli, the writers have created some areas of commonality that didn’t always translate as they’d like. It was also weird to see Sam swinging from the well-earned cynicism of the previous two episodes to the sort of wide-eyed optimism Steve used to portray. Perhaps that was simply to try and show Karli an alternative, but as the episode showed, she clearly wasn't buying (though, in Sam’s defense, he came pretty close).

Something about Sam’s characterization in this episode didn’t really do it for me — I would argue episode one and two were both stronger in that regard. Nevertheless, I’m hopeful that they’ll correct it in the next one.

5. Karli Morgenthau

Her treatment is arguably the worst of them all. She is young, yeah, but she oscillates at an alarming rate between spouting class discourse that, by this episode, feels largely derivative (like someone scrolled on Twitter and put a bunch of keywords together in hopes of evoking an emotional audience response) and homicidal tendencies that show a brutal yet fundamentally messy underpinning. Unlike Zemo, she is still too easily confounded, and that will come to bite her in the ass sooner rather than later. (See: The Power Broker)

Perhaps I'm meant to be rooting for her on some degree but I really can't -- she's cruel and sloppy, which I cannot forgive.

Oh, and she killed Lemar Hoskins and threatened Sarah Wilson. Yikes.

Overall Episode Takeaway: A lot of shocking moments and great acting beats for everyone involved (arguably some of the best of the series thus far), but the weakness of the writing does crop up in parts. Whether they'll be corrected for going forward is to be determined...

UP NEXT: Meta pieces for Sam, Bucky, John, and Zemo all in the works!

#fatws #tfatws #sam wilson #bucky barnes #john walker #fatws spoilers #tfatws spoilers #tfatws meta #karli morgenthau

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hottie0 · 3 years

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k so i had an idea for a chameron ao3 series of all the fics being conan gray songs but i got lazy and only wrote 1.5 stories for it so because i’m not acc gonna do it imma share the ideas i had cuz someone might find them useful so (btw these will be copied directly from notes the first time i wrote them, they can also be used for other ships if u want but i made them for chameron):

grow: a year after hs cam and charlie run into eachother in vermont and then u see a bunch of flashbacks of old nights and things at welton. they exchange numbers at the end or smth. (i did this one)

idle town: charlie can’t sleep at his new school. he reminisces and whatever. a little more focused on cam. he looks over at the other side of the room but cam isn’t there anymore. instead it’s his new roommate who he doesn’t even know the last name of. end it somehow.

generation why: pre-canon cam and charlie just talking on the roof. banter. romantics ensue on cams behalf. charlie doesn’t feel the same way. that’s why charlie treats him the way he does.

crush culture: charlie pining after cam. a bunch of little things cam does to push charlie over the edge. charlie talks to neil and neil says cam likes him too. he doesn’t. charlie kisses cam one night while studying and cam rejects him and they argue. this is the night of neils death. that’s why cam didn’t find out through charlie and everything hurt a little bit more than it should’ve.

greek god: cameron’s being made fun of all the time by charlie and he knows charlie likes him and idk tbh this one got deleted and idk what i had written

lookalike: pre-neils death cam and charlie dated in their time at welton then broke up which caused tension going into senior year. the dead poets knew. when the dps started charlie got a gf and wouldn’t stop talking about her. her name was elaine. he brought her to a meeting and she looks just like cam. damn.

the other side: falling out of love. the process.

the king: cameron accidentally reads a poem charlie had written for/about him. he stresses all day and acts weird. everyone else is like ??? at night cam decides f it and confronts him. it ends cute

comfort crowd: night time. tomorrow morning charlie was meant to leave welton so all his stuff was packed up. hed already punched cam so it was tense. to say the least. cam randomly gets up out of bed and charlie is like wtf?? cam fuddles around then he’s like “u coming” they go to the cave and have a meaningful talk and if they end up cuddling then that’s their business

wish you were sober: charlie and cameron get drunk in their dorm. cam can’t hold his alcohol well so he gets wayy more drunk. he tells charlie some personal shit. some of which includes the fact that he used to have feelings for charlie. charlie has feelings for cam. he’s sad and sends cam to bed.

maniac: short one. they’re at the same bar a few years later. not with eachother but cam knows charlie’s there. charlie is talking shit abt cam and calling him weird and blah blah. but just that night, charlie had called cam desperate after years. cam thinks abt everything. he gets up and leaves but doesn’t leave w/o saying a big ol’ f u to charlie. this ones so mean to charlie. sucks. anyways.

online love): they’re doing long distance because charlie got expelled. they break up over the phone. aw. make it depressing. maybe by them being interrupted before rly saying goodbye and shii.

checkmate: they’re playing chess idk i couldn’t think of anything better. just cute and fluffy cuz i say so.

the cut that always bleeds: cameron is in a problematic relationship w a girl he met at uni. they just went through one of their fight episodes. cam went back to his room but he needed company. he decides to go to charlie’s dorm for comfort. but they haven’t spoke since that evening years ago. charlie says “i thought i’d never see you again” yadda yadda cam tells charlie everything and they just hold eachother. the gf is like “plz take me back” so cam does and he never sees charlie ever again. cry abt it.

fight or flight: charlie has a gf but little does he know she’s cheating on him. he ends up catching her with her side piece in their apartment. it’s cameron. there’s a whole wtf moment and the gf is like “u two know eachother???”. cams like “i swear i didn’t know” the girl leaves but cam stays. they argue or whatever or just talk not sure yet. then they kiss and charlie says something dumb and it ends. also cameron is hot as shit in this btw.

affluenza: probs short. when charlie is getting ready to leave cam is like “so money can’t buy happiness” and charlie’s like tf did u say to me. they talk abt where charlie’s going and whatnot and money. “i can’t do the things you do charlie, don’t you get anything” charlie leaves feeling a bit more guilty.

(can we be friends?): cam and charlie’s life growing up together. cute moments of them falling for the other. “now charlie knows why he and cameron could never be friends.”

heather: charlie and knox are together. cameron likes charlie. one night charlie is drunk and it’s just cam and him in the dorm. charlie ends up kissing cameron as a joke and cameron doesn’t know. there’s a fic like this. after the kiss it’s never the same. knox doesn’t know what happened. cameron has to watch them be all buddy buddy and shit- even if they’re not out to the rest of the group, cam knows. cameron knows not to interfere with their relationship no matter how much he wants to. he chooses to sit and watch and keep all his feelings inside.

little league: charlie stops by a cafe one night because he has nothing else to do. it turns out it’s open mic night. someone gets up to read. that someone is cameron. cameron performs a poem called little league. charlie remembers things. he leaves before the poem is over. /OR/ Cameron is an adult, he's a doctor or smth bouj, he has a family, a house, the embodiment of the american middle aged straight white man dream life. But sometimes, in secret, he takes Welton's Yearbook out of the shelf, and he traces Charlie face, and he remembers.

the story: cameron and charlie are late-night swimming in the lake together. they’re fantasizing abt whatever and charlie says “we should run away” they continue the convo like they did the others. a few days later charlie brings it up again, seriously this time. “what? dalton are you on something?” no. they get into an argument and shit. about a week later cameron wakes up to charlie sneaking out, but this isn’t sneaking out like dps meeting sneaking out, he’s running away. cam: “charlie? what are you doing up?” charlie: “this is your last chance. you coming?” cam: *thinks* no.

fake: ratting on keating and more angsty mess

overdrive: first kiss moment. they’re meant to be studying but they got distracted and are just talking instead. charlie’s like “cam have u ever kissed sum1” cam: “i think u know the answer to that dalton” charlie: “do you want to” cam: “ha! that’s a laugh! who can i find within a mile of here that i could kiss” charlie: me. whole carpe diem whatever- “charlie are you kidding do you know what would happen if someone found out!?” “so i won’t let them” but they kiss and it’s cute

astronomy: au: cam never ratted out keating but neil still died but just that whole thing never happened. ok. ever since neil died both cam and char were different. their relationship was tense. before it had been perf and everyone was envious of them but after neil everything changed. cameron was more agressive and easily irritable. charlie was more reserved and quiet. they tried to fix it but they decided it would be best to split. they still saw eachother in hallways and stuff, but were no longer roommates. after a couple months, they were strangers.

people watching: a view on the cameron/charlie relationship from other people. they’re opposites obv. when ppl were first informed they were taken aback to say the least. but when they see how they are together they get it yk? yeah u do.

ur welcome for my genius guys u need it.

#chameron #dead poets society #dps boys #charlie dalton #richard cameron

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haikyuuwaifu · 4 years

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Miss Independent

Genre: Crack, Humor, Drama, NSFW Content, Mild Angst

MASTERLIST

BONUS MASTERLIST

a/n: I know this isn’t how it goes in the show so pretend or imagine it went this way instead.

*Post-Daichi Break-up*

U19 TRAINING CAMP FUCKERY Pt. 1

“Y/N! Why does Tsukishima get to go to that camp at Shiratorizawa and I don’t!” Shoyo huffed, pouting and crossing his arms. “Bakageyama gets to go to that fancy camp, and I’m stuck here!” he pouted snuggling into Y/N’s side. Y/N turned toward Coach Ukai who merely shook his head. “You know how old man Washajio is.” he mumbled scratching the back of his neck. Y/N huffed a sigh as she turned toward Takeda-sensei her palm flat. “Let me talk to him, and I’ll sort this out.” she murmured grabbing the phone he handed her and turning towards the gym exit. Since the break-up she had treated Daichi like he didn’t exist. She wouldn’t give up taking care of her crows just because he was a total dumbass.

20 minutes later found Y/N screaming into the phone at the old coach of Shiratorizawa. “I swear to god, if you don’t let him participate I will end your entire career you decrepit fuck!” she snarled into the receiver. “I don’t care if he’s short! Last time I checked, you were the shortest member on your team too old man!” she screamed stomping her foot. “Listen here mother fucker...you’re going to take Shoyo in and that’s final or I swear on all that is holy that Ushijima WILL NOT go pro... don’t fucking try me, he’ll do anything I say...That’s what I thought.” she huffed smirking at the phone in her hand. “And you better be nice to him, i’ll know if you aren’t and then you can say bye bye to the pride of Shiratorizawa.” she grinned before hanging up. Walking back into the gym Y/N gave Ukai a thumbs up and laughed when Shoyo launched himself at her. “You’re the best mama Y/N!” “I’d like to go to the U19 camp with Kageyama, I’m not to keen on sticking around here for the break.” she mumbled side eyeing the gym doors. Ukai nodded in agreeance before waving her off. “Go home for the day brat, you earned an early day off.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

A few days later found Y/N arriving in Tokyo with Kageyama latched to her side. They had made it to the U19 camp and he had been a little intimidated by the amount of people that had shown up. “I thought this was just supposed to be players.” he mumbled softly as she tugged him along with her. “Usually yes, but this year they wanted to see how well you could all work together against other teams; so the U19 players are going to be playing against Nekoma, Inarizaki, Fukurodani, and a few other top schools.” she mumbled making their way to the registration table. “Now, go get yourself checked in while I go talk to some of the coach-” “Kitty Cat!” Before Y/N could finish her sentence she found herself hauled off her feet and in the arms of the scheming Nekoma captain. “Hello assclown, put me down!” she screamed smacking his shoulders. “I’m just happy to see y-” “HEY! HEY! HEY!” Bokuto screeched pulling the two of them into an even bigger bear hug. The next hour consisted of Y/N being bear hugged or bothered by everyone she knew in the volleyball circles. In all honesty the girl just wanted a break.

She managed to catch her break in the form of Sakusa Kiyoomi tugging her back and into one of the empty kitchens. She giggled softly as the taller man bent slighty to snuggle his larger frame into her soft small one. “You’ve only been here for a few hours Omi, it can’t be that bad.” she mumbled stroking his hair softly. “Says you, I’ve been dealing with Atsumu Miya for the last number of hours and his whole team is here. Kita-san is about to snap someone's neck.” he mumbled softly. “Don’t act like you haven’t been crushing on this Atsumu person for the last two years, it’s not nice to lie you know.” she laughed as he scrunched his nose in disgust. “Just because I find him nice looking doesn’t mean anything. Especially when he ruins it by opening his mouth.”

As the two friends caught up, the lobby was filled with complete chaos in the form of Atsumu, Bokuto, and Kuroo attempting to do a three way chicken fight. Akaashi was trying his best to contain the situation, but he and Daishou couldn’t get their respective idiots to settle down. Poor Kita was ready to throw in the towel, when a door slammed shut. Y/N and Sakusa had moved back into the lobby, when she was greeted by the sight of three practically grown men standing in a circle attempting to play chicken. With a snarl on her face Y/N made her way towards the boys when Kuroo felt a cold shiver down his spine. Turning his head he screeched slightly attempting to hide behind Bokuto. Bokuto, turned and yelped at the sight of Y/N stomping her way towards them. Atsumu completely unaware raised his hands in victory; when he felt a hard slap to the back of his head. With a loud swear he turned to face his attacker when he found himself face down in the carpet. Kuroo and Bokuto scrambled to get away, but they couldn’t move fast enough.

Y/N stood on top of a flat Atsumu and grabbed Kuroo and Bokuto by an ear each and hauled both tall men down to her height and snarled loudly. “What the fuck do the three of you think you’re doing, playing stupid games in the middle of the lobby! You should be settling in and getting ready for tomorrow not dicking around!” she yelled twisting their ears harshly. Underneath her Atsumu made to speak when she shoved her foot deeper into his cheek. “You’re new here Miya-san, but you’ll learn quickly that the coaches don’t run this place...I do, and if you don’t do what I say you’ll find yourself having a very miserable time.” she murmured grinning menacingly. “This goes for everyone here! If you don’t toe the fucking line, you’ll find your ass out of the fucking training camp.” she snarled releasing their ears and shoving them away. “Now get your fucking shit in your rooms and get washed up for dinner.” she barked finding satisfaction in the way everyone seemed to scatter. Turning around she came face to face with an awe struck Kita.

“Are you an angel?” he asked, voice cracking at the sight of another person who knew the struggles of parenting an entire volleyball team of idiots. Y/N chuckled and opened her arms, “Come on Shinsuke-san, I think you need to be introduced to the PSG” she stated wrapping her arms around the shaking captain. “I have so much to learn” he mumbled listening as she explained the ins and outs of dealing with her problematic friends.

-During this time Osamu had just dumped Yumi, and Suna was with Yui. Kenma was being a fuckboy, but as previously stated; they all run in the same circles so its possible they’ve heard OF each other. They just don’t MEET each other :)

-Also don’t fuck with Y/N.

@dabilove27 @amberisnotcrazy @elianetsantana @exosehun-94 @deaththekidwantsyou @sempiternal-amour @dinablossom @yafriendlyfangirl @mint-mai @amarillyis @sunflwrsandprettyskies @sunflowerirl @woohoney @taeyongsupremecy @bakuhoetoedoroki @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @cosmicmermaid25 @cataxtrophic @wineandionysus @kit-kat428 @crybabbicus @ouijaeater15 @lia-faerie-queen

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Photo

badboy!yeosang

word count: 18k

angst, fluff, smut

to this day, no one exactly knows what sparked the rivalry between the north side high school and south side high school. it seemed as if something that was just always present in the small town, with your parents and their parents and maybe even their parent's parents dealing with the tension had the two buildings been around back then.

whether it was between students personally, sports teams winning streaks, or academic scores, the two schools, centered in the same town only a few blocks away from one another, were always neck and neck. and it made socializing somewhat troublesome, always running into enemies and rivals you didn't even have a solid reason for disliking.

it was even more troublesome when brave students looked passed the silly, unknown rivalry, merging friend groups from north and south into one cohesive friend group. this isn't something you had ever done personally, sticking with the north side boys and girls you had known since elementary school.

but then one friday night party held at a friendly 'northerns' house changed everything, you and your friends walking in to see lots of unfamiliar faces.

"don't tell me she invited those scumbags," you friend bites harshly, immediately eyeing anyone and everyone she didn't recognize.

"of course she did, she's like best friend's with all of them," your other friend scoffs, eyes roaming for the host so she can ask her what the hell she was thinking inviting this many people.

"why does it even matter?" you ask quietly. because while you've never set out to make friends with people from the other school, you also wouldn't be opposed. because until someone gives you a reason to dislike them, you're not gonna base your opinion off a group of people on some nonsensical history of hate.

"you're joking, right?" you hear your friend's high pitched voice whine, "they're literal scum. they come to our parties and try to fight everyone! they trash their school and talk back to the teachers! they're delinquents! do you know how many people get kicked out of that school a year?"

you eye the entire bottle of vodka in her hand, knowing all too well she also has a stash of weed she stole from her sister in her backpack. "delinquents, huh?"

her eyes narrow at your sarcasm, pushing your arm lightly. "okay, sorry we're all not goody too shoes like you mrs. i would never drink or smoke," she says mockingly.

you can't help the smirk that crosses your face at her bitter, snappy tone until it quickly falls when you catch a familiar pair of eyes across the room.

"oh, fuck my life..."

your older brother (but barely, you're less than a year apart for gods sake) catches your gaze and nods his head at you. you can't help but laugh internally at the irony of your friend calling the south side students delinquents when that boy right there attends your school.

because you had never met a more problematic person, always ready to pick a fight or start drama for no other reason than he just loves the thrill of it. loves the repartee back and forth before an abrupt, chaotic brawl of fists and kicks sends people into a panic.

he even loved it when you were kids, always pulling your hair and littering you in bruises that left your skin covered purple and blue more often than not; but it only got worse as he got older - luckily he had learned to spare you and other females.

it had gotten to the point where your parents almost insist you now go to every party and outing he's at, hoping that he'll curb his behavior in front of his little sister.

but no such luck because only an hour into it and you see him eyeing a group of south side boys, making his way up to them causing all of their stances to immediately stiffen. everyone has shifted into slight defense, narrowed eyes and snarled lips and a part of you watches in hopes that it'll die down.

but then you see two boys push their way forward, standing toe to toe with your brother and his friend before you stomp over.

"changbin," you growl lowly, arms folded over your chest in an attempt to look threatening. but it only causes him to laugh slightly, the boys behind you falling silent at your arrival.

"what do you want, y/n?"

"don't talk to me like that," you snap. because he's notorious for being extra snippy with you in front of his friends, like he's cool for being mean to you when you're almost always there to babysit him.

"yeah, don't talk to her like that," one of the south side boys says mockingly. you don't even bother turning around to shoot him a dirty look, grabbing changbin roughly by the arm and over to the less crowded corner.

"what is your problem?" the boy laughs out, knocking into you playfully.

"what do you think my problem is?" you ask him dully. "i know you're trying to start shit with them."

"me? start shit?" he quips sarcastically, "never."

you roll your eyes, not at all amused by him. because it's a miracle you haven't gotten hit or punched yourself from the amount of times you've broken up one of his many fights. and he doesn't even see that that's an issue.

"changbin, i'm serious!" you tell him adamently, "if i have to split up another fight-"

"okay, well, who the hell said you have to do that in the first place?" he asks, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

"mom and dad will get mad at both of us," you spit, "especially dad. and i don't need that." because afterall, changbin's anger and love of fighting didn't just fall out of the sky.

"whatever," he says, "just stay out of it. i'll tell them you tried, how 'bout that? so they don't get mad at their perfect little daughter."

you narrow your eyes at him, swallowing down the desire to tell him to fuck off before he cockily saunters back over to his friends. you stand there and watch him for a few seconds, the boy who mocked you peering over at you. your eyes linger on each other for a few seconds, his curious gaze roaming your face and body before a smirk plays at his lips. you rip your eyes away, escaping the loud voices and tension-filled stares in the safety of the bathroom.

you don't even know why you come to these parties anymore. you never really had fun at them, being surrounded by your drunken classmates who make out right in front of you after swearing they'd never do it again. and anytime your brother was in attendance, it added a whole new level of irritation.

because why should you watch him and keep him from being an idiot? put yourself in danger to stop his stupid, childish outbursts? you grip the sink in frustration, peering at our own reflection and wanting to laugh at how unhinged you look.

you take a few deep breaths, flushing the toilet and letting the faucet run so it at least seemed as if you were using the bathroom and not on the verge of a mental breakdown.

and thank god you did because you take three steps before you're cornered by the mysterious mocking boy with curious eyes. he blocks your path with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest as his gaze pierces down at you.

you look up at him and raise your eyebrow when he doesn't speak, just stands there and holds your eye contact.

"can i help you?" you ask, not being able to hold back the irritation that drips in your tone.

"your boyfriend's a bit of a dick, huh?"

a look of confusion crosses your face causing his head to turn ever so slightly. you haven't had a boyfriend a day in your life but you're as hell not about the to tell this strange boy that. "what are you talking about?"

his neck cranes back and nods toward changbin who you see thankfully has gone back over to his corner before looking back at you. "changbin. i think that's what you said his name was?"

a gag leaves your mouth as you shake your head frantically. "oh god, no! that's- that's my brother."

"ah, your brother," he hums, like he's genuinely fascinated by that revelation. "so what, you hang around and make sure he doesn't get in trouble?"

the condescending way in which poses the question causes your eyes to narrow, now matching his stance with folded arms and an overall cold demeanor.

"yeah because trouble always seems to start when you people come around." and even though you hadn't believed it an hour ago, there's something about this boy that's making you incredibly defensive and annoyed.

a breathy chuckle leaves his mouth as he takes a step closer to you, your eyes widening slightly when your back hits the wall. he stares down at you with a dark look in his eye, the teasing glint the only thing not making you feel nervous.

"us people?" he hums lowly, "and what kind of people is that?"

"i don't know, i hear you guys start a lot of shit," you say boldly despite being trapped, "deliquents, was the word used. and i see there might be some truth to that."

"that's funny, babe, because your brother was the one who approached us," he says calmly.

you purse your lips to the side, breaking the incessant eye contact to search for your friends. but of course, both of them are already lip-locked with their newest prospects of the night and not at all concerned about your whereabouts; which they shouldn't be, you suppose, but you could really use some assistance right now.

his throat clearing above causes you to look up at him again, pushing yourself further back into the wall.

"well, if he starts something," you say, voice changing into something unnaturally soft and sweet, "can you guys just ignore him? please?"

an amused look crosses his face, a sarcastic smile on his pretty, red lips. "oh? please?" he hums, "so you're gonna be nice, now?"

an annoyed huff leaves your mouth, reluctantly bringing your hands to this stranger's chest and pushing him back. "no, i'll be leaving you now," you say and leave you do, not once turning around to look at him as you make your way over to the other side of the room.

he watches you take a bottle of water out of the cooler before plopping down on the couch, phone in hand as you tap the screen. it lights up your face in the dimly lit room and he hates to admit that you really are pretty, a girl he'd typically seek out at a party like this and hope to end up making out with. he hums curiously before making his way back to his friends, seonghwa's eyes catching his.

"who were you talking to?"

"that loser's sister," he says quietly which causes hongjoong's head to perk up. "sister?" him and seonghwa both say at the same time; they had all really assumed you were his girlfriend.

"yup," he says, looking up to see you haven't changed positions. "she's...feisty."

"yeosang..." seonghwa says warningly, knowing all too well how the boy uses his smoldering looks and unique charm to reel girl's in.

"what," he chuckles out, meeting his friend's gaze. "i didn't do anything."

"that doesn't mean you won't," seonghwa mumbles, shaking his head at the boy.

"you know me too well, hwa," he says, patting his arm roughly before he meets changbin's glare. "you know me too well."

tense gazes and snarls only heightened throughout the night, the north side boys shouting from across the room while the south side boys just stood around quietly, plotting and preparing for a phyical fight if it was going to come down to it.

and of course, it did. you had watched it all unfold, watched your brother's friends make the first move when they got wind that a south side boy by the name of jongho started talking to one of the girls.

she was there one minute, flirting and talking friendly before the boy slightly pushed her out of the way upon seeing them charge forward, screams of profanities in one another's faces that were far too dramatic for the circumstances.

it was all just a pissing contest really, each side of boys trying to prove who was tougher and cooler when really they both just looked like fools. but you suppose you were the biggest fool, watching changbin barrel his way through the crowd and getting in the face of the black-haired boy.

"so you're the little bitch, huh?" you hear his voice bite, shooting up from your spot on the couch immediately. "i really think you guys are forgetting-"

"changbin, stop," you say lowly, going up behind him to grab the back of his shirt. but it's like you're a ghost, he doesn't even feel your presence or touch, just continues to talk shit to the boy until he draws his arm back and punches him square in the face.

"changbin!" you shout over the crowd of oohs and ahhs, onlookers with their phones out and only a few other people trying to split it up. he gets in three more punches, loud cracks while his friend's fight off the other boys and try to help you in getting your brother away from him.

"get the fuck away from me, y/n," he growls, drawing his arm back to push you backwards. his hand meets your stomach probably a bit harsher than he intended, your body stumbling back causing you to nearly fall onto the glass table.

you watch in a daze as the boy you talked to before stomps his way over to changbin, gripping him by collar and picking him off his bloody friend.

"don't touch my friend or your sister like that," he growls, tightening his hold on the boy's shirt before pushing him away from them.

"how 'bout you don't tell me what-"

"stop!" you screech, grabbing him roughly by the arm and making your way toward the front door. "just stop already, changbin!"

you throw him down in the front seat of your car before promptly locking him in, telling him you're going to get your stuff and that he better not leave the car. you run back in to the chaos, the group of south side boys huddled around the injured boy you've gathered is jongho.

you grab your bag before making your way over, kneeling down to see the boy's blooded face.

"i'm so sorry about him," you tell him quietly, wincing as you see the blood trickle down to his mouth.

"just get away from us," one of them says.

"wooyoung, she didn't-"

"no, san, this is their fault," he growls, helping jongho to his feet and dapping at his face. you can only sigh, offering one last quiet apology before making your way back outside.

"i can't believe them, that crazy asshole," jongho snaps, eyeing himself in the mirror of hongjoong's basement apartment.

his parents had made the space for him when he started high school, first just to get him out of their hair and allow them a good night's rest away from his long nights of playing guitar or typing on his computer. but then it quickly transformed into basically housing the seven other boys, beds littered in the ample amount of rooms down there so the group of eight best friends could live together almost 24/7.

"we'll get them back," wooyoung says from the couch, leg still bouncing from the adrenaline. "they can't get away with this."

"his sister tried to apologize," san points out softly, bringing over band-aids and alcohol.

"that was just to save face," yeosang says near the open window, his lit cigarette hanging outside, "she was quick to call us out for being quote-unquote 'delinquents.'"

"oh jesus christ," hongjoong grumbles, "i mean seriously, what is their problem? we're all the same."

"he started it in the first place," mingi snaps before yunho adds, "exactly. and apparently, that kid fights everyone."

jongho hisses when seonghwa accidentally grazes the bruise on his face, all the boys heads snapping toward him with sympathy in their eyes. "well he's a little psycho who needs to be humbled," the bruised, bloody boy says.

yeosang listens to his friends conversation silently as he inhales the smoke, holding it and letting it burn as he tries to concoct a plan. because it'd be easy to get revenge on changbin himself, jump him at the next party with their fists and stomping feet the way they always do to people who deserve it.

but where's the fun in that when he has a feisty little sister who's already peeked his interest?

yeosang exhales, the smoke swirling out of the window before he puts the cigarette out in the dirt. "i have an idea," he says, the seven other boys turning their attention to the smirking boy with an all too familiar look in his eye.

ironically enough, your part-time job at a small bakery is where you find the most solace. there's no stress from annoying teachers or piles of schoolwork like at school or fighting parents and an obnoxious brother at home.

instead, it's just the fresh smell of pastries and bread, the occasional ding of the bell welcoming in customers and the soft hum of 50s music playing through the speakers. your boss is also the owner, a tiny but incredibly sweet woman who has yet to tell you her age but you have to assume is in her early 70s.

"thank you for coming!" you chirp happily, eyeing the little girl who you slipped in an extra chocolate chip cookie for, "enjoy!"

the mother and daughter walk out, your eyes following them as the little girl eagerly clings to her mom for the dessert. you smile softly before sighing, going over to wipe off the few tables by the front window.

you hum along to elvis presley's version of hound dog, bobbing your head side to side as you wipe down tables and push in chairs. your hips begin to wiggle slightly as the guitar solo starts and unbeknownst to you, someone had been watching you from the window; you hear the familiar ding of the door opening a few seconds later.

"i'll be with you in a second," you call out, wiping down the last table before turning around; your friendly, customer-service smile falls immediately upon seeing a familiar pair of teasing, brown eyes.

"hello again," he says, looking over your uniform that is a pastel pink apron with smiling cupcakes plastered over it. "how cute."

"what- what are you doing here?" you stutter out, standing a few feet away from him. he smirks upon hearing your nervousness, taking three steps closer to you so he can properly look at you.

"isn't it obvious? i'm looking for something... sweet," he says, the smirk crossing his face as he looks at you causing your eyes to roll. this guy can not be serious.

you ignore his stupid words, pushing passed him and behind the register to take his order. "then what can i get you?"

"hmm, well i don't know," his deep voice hums, looking over the glass counter before meeting your gaze. "what do you recommend?"

you bite your tongue, figuring a yelp review of 'the girl behind the register suggested a foot up the ass' would be bad for business; so you smile through gritted teeth as you tell him the chocolate mousse cake is a customer favorite.

"but what do you like?" he asks, propping his elbow on the counter and smiling cockily at you. because he really couldn't believe his luck, that he just happened to pass your workplace the day after the party. he figured it was gonna take time, having to wait to see you next weekend or ask around at school.

"i don't like sweets," is all you say. because it's not a lie. and if you did, you certainly wouldn't work at a bakery.

"not at all?" he asks.

"not at all."

"well then what would you recommend to someone healing from a fight?" he asks, "because, you know, my friend got pretty messed up last night."

your face falls upon the mention of the boy, your heart tugging a bit because you always feel bad for the people you have to pull your brother away from. and last night wasn't the first time someone has gotten mad at you for it.

"is he okay?" you ask quietly, the soft concerned way in which you ask almost making him think you're genuine.

"he'll be fine," is all he says before that flirty, conniving look is back on his face. "so c'mon, babe, help a guy out here."

you sharply inhale so you don't start yelling at him, thinking to yourself before picking up a small white box and tray. yeosang watches you move around the bakery with ease, opening the small blue fridge before turning on a chocolate fountain.

a few minutes later, you bring him a box with six chocolate-covered strawberries. "how's this?" you ask him, the sweet sarcasm dripping in your tone. he looks down at the fresh strawberries drizzled carefully in warm chocolate.

"now that is nice," he hums lowly.

"yeah, they're really good," you tell him, trying to act like he's any normal customer and not the boy from last night.

"oh?" he says, fumbling with the back of his jeans to grab his wallet. "i thought you didn't like sweets?"

"i don't but i like chocolate covered fruit," you mumble before telling him the price. he hands you a ten dollar bill, winking to keep the change before he turns to leave.

you almost let out a sigh of relief when he turns back around. "i don't think i ever got your name."

"that's because i didn't tell you," you snap sassily, his boyish chuckle filling the empty space.

"well, i'm yeosang," he says, walking back over to the register with his hand outstretched. you look down at it, ignoring the protruding veins and black rings adorned on his fingers, before your eyes meet again.

"that's nice."

his lips turn into a handsome smirk, licking his lips in a way that has your eyes quickly falling behind him to the people entering the store. "well, have a nice day, i hope you enjoy your-" you try to say when you meet his gaze again but he shakes his head.

"what's your name?"

"i have other customers," you mumble lowly, looking at him with wide eyes and a hot, fire growing in them.

"then i guess i'm just gonna have to call you babe," he says before his voice raises an octave. "it was nice seeing you again, babe! i hope to see you again ba-

"y/n," you snap, "my name's y/n."

"y/n," he repeats in his deep voice, letting it flow off his tongue. "that's pretty."

you narrow your eyes at him, eyeing the people behind him before he finally gets the hint. "i'll see you soon, y/n."

your eyes follow him out the door and catch his when he passes the window, smirking at you through the glass and throwing you a wink. he misses the sneer that crosses your face, letting out a sigh of relief when he's finally out of sight. you really hoping you won't be seeing him anytime soon.

much to your dismay, yeosang came in the next three saturdays. walking in with that stupid smirk on his face, clad in a leather jacket and boots making you shake your head at him.

"what are you doing here?" you asked again, similiar to the last week you had seen him. he had smiled slyly at you, insisting that the chocolate covered strawberries were so good, he couldn't help but get another batch.

"but this time, can i have ten?" you eye him wordlessly before drizzling ten strawberries, wrapping them nicely in a box for him.

"oh no, to stay," he says, "i was hoping you could help me eat them."

"excuse me?" you mutter. because he's more absurd than you thought if you really thinks you're gonna entertain his company and-

"eat them with me."

you looked at the boy in shock, shaking your head at his commanding tone as a scoff leaves your mouth.

"i'm working."

"you don't get a break?" he asks lowly.

"had it already," you respond, bending down to arrange the desserts you've fiddled with a hundred times already today.

"then eat with me later tonight."

your head nearly smacks into the display case in shock, eyebrows furrowed together before you jump up to see him with a serious expression.

"what?"

"go on a date with me."

a strangled laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you shake your head at him in bewilderment.

"and why on earth would i do that?" you ask him, "you don't even know me."

"but i want to," he says quietly, eyes roaming over your face in a way that makes you feel incredibly nervous. "and that's typically how people do it, right?"

you can only stare at him blankly, brain racing because where the hell did this come from? you barely know the kid, quite frankly find him rather irritating, and now he's here asking you on a date?

"i-i...why?"

"you....intrigue me," he says, "you follow around your asshole brother but you're actually a nice girl. you care about people even though you pretend to be all...feisty and jaded."

"wow, you got all that in our two meetings? impressive," you quip sarcastically, feeling far too exposed at his analysis. "and it probably isn't the best idea to call someone jaded when you're trying to ask them out on a date."

his laugh echoes through the pastel bakery, his eyes peering into yours with an unreadable expression. "see," he says, "and you make me laugh. i definitely wanna go on a date with you."

your eyes search his face for any hint of mockery or joking, very wary of this boy and the way he talks to you. because parts of you are screaming to go for it, that there's obviously something pulling you towards the boy just a little bit. that he gets you worked up and sometimes unable to meet his you gaze.

but you also barely know him and see behind his handsome smirk and piercing eyes that he's someone who could easily have you under his control.

so you're about to utter a no when a loud group of kids and adults come through the door, ripping you from his gaze and causing you to swallow the nervous lump in your throat.

"leave," you whisper to him before plastering on a smile, welcoming the new customers without a second glance back at yeosang who maybe finally got the hint when he retreats to the door.

but no such luck. because the saturday after that, he came in and ordered another ten strawberries to stay.

"i'm not gonna eat them with you," you mumble before the door behind you flies open, your little boss barely visible over the counter.

"y/n have you seen the- oh, hi, young man," she says to yeosang, a small smile on her face. he waves at her, a polite smile on his face that transforms him into a boy who looks like he belongs in church or on a school's debate team.

"hello. are you y/n's boss?" you hear him ask, causing your eyes to widen.

"why yes i am," she quips with a smile, patting you on the shoulder lovingly before she looks back at him. "why? she giving you trouble?"

"not at all, she's great," he says with a chuckle. "she even recommended the chocolate covered strawberries and they're delicious. but...i was kind of hoping to share them with her."

your eyes narrow at him, silently mouthing 'stop it' when a humming leaves the little old lady's mouth. "oh really? well, i don't believe she's taken her break yet. y/n, why don't you join him?"

"i took it before," you lie, keeping your cold gaze on yeosang so you miss the way the woman next to you is already trapped under his spell. the dejected smile on his face is what does her over, insisting you take a 20-minute break and share the delicious treats with him.

"i couldn't, mrs.-"

"you can and you will," she says before bringing her mouth to your ear. "or i will and i don't think he or my husband wants that."

you press yours lips together to surpress the laugh from bubbling out of your mouth, side eyeing her with an unsure expression as she quickly takes the apron off you. "go, go," she says, "i'll be on the register."

and so that's how you end up sitting across the table from yeosang, a box of strawberries between you both as you sit there with your arms crossed.

"are you happy now?" you ask him lowly, rolling your eyes as you watch him bite into the chocolate.

"very," he says, smirking when he sees you roll your eyes. "you know, i don't think i've given you a reason to dislike me so much."

you raise your eyebrow as your lips purse to the side, swallowing down the need to become defensive.

"oh no? this is the third saturday you've harassed me at work," you say, thinking about when he came in last week asking for samples, so many samples you ran out of spoons, before he just decided on the very dessert he's chowing down on now.

"visited," he gently corrects, biting his lip to hide his smile when an exasperated look crosses your face.

"okay, then what's it gonna take you for you to stop 'visiting' me? is this all you wanted?" you ask, gesturing between you both.

"no," he says, "i still want to go on a date with you."

you put your head in your hands frustratedly, rubbing over your eyes before looking right into his. and you can just tell from that, that he's not gonna be the type to let up. that he'll keep coming in every single saturday and spending $10 on fruit and chocolate until you agree.

so it's why you let out a sigh, pluck a strawberry from the box and bite into it before you grunt out "fine."

his eyebrows raise in surprise, tongue peeking out to lick over his lip. "really?"

"yes. one date," you say with finality, "and then you stop visiting me."

"deal," he says with a smirk before his eyes fall to your mouth. you swallow nervously at his gaze, watching his hand reach out before his thumb brushes over the corner of your lip.

he looks back at you, smirk still planted on his face when he sees the look on your face. "chocolate," he mumbles, "you work friday?"

you can only find it in yourself to nod your head, "till 8," you squeak out.

he smiles at you before standing up, pushing the box toward you before winking. "see you then," he says, waving goodbye to your boss who's been trying (but failing) to not make her staring too obvious.

you really, really hate to admit it but you were having fun. and that's saying a lot considering yeosang (and fine, maybe you too) just promptly got you guys kicked out of your date location. he had been outside your work place at 7:55, the loud tremble of his motorcycle whipping down the small street and alerting you of his arrival.

he walked in looking like the stereotypical bad boy, clad in usual leather but the singular pink rose in his hand a sharp contrast. your mouth dropped open in surprise, an awkwad giggle leaving your mouth because you hadn't expected that at all; in fact, you were half expecting him to forget all about it.

but you were really happy he didn't. you guys had a late dinner at a resturant a few blocks away, walking side-by-side in the cool night as you tell him about your shift and how long you've been working there.

he tells you that he lives with his seven friends in one of their basements, his boyish chuckle ringing in your ears over and over as he talks about them. he broke down your cold, slightly guarded exterior within the first hour and a half, now the both of you at an arcade as you try to beat each other at skee ball.

because you had been unbeatable at air hockey. at first, you both surely thought it was beginners luck but after four games, it really seemed as if it was you had a truly remarkable talent. one that he seems to have at skee ball.

"you're a cheater!" you squeal, hitting him in the arm playfully watching his ball swoop into the 10,000 points slot for the sixth time in a row.

"i'm not," he laughs out, looking down and smiling at the determination on your face as you stand in front of the board. you side-eye him before taking the ball in your hand, swinging your arm back and attempting to line it up directly with the top right side.

but just like every other time, it tips off the slot and clatters down to showcase a measly 1,000 points on the screen proudly. an annoyed groan leaves your mouth, the boy's chuckle next to you only making you look up in frustration.

"stop it," you whine. the pout on your face causes him to pop his neck nervously, a thought rushing to his mind to distract him before he quickly moves his eyes around the room.

"what're you doing?" you ask, watching his eyes roam suspiciously around the room.

"shh," he says, putting a finger to his lips before it twists into a smile. his arm wraps around your waist suddenly, causing a surprised squeal to leave your mouth when you feel your feet lift off the ground and onto the runway of the skee ball machine.

"yeosang!" you whisper-yell, like your figure standing tall in the machine isn't obvious enough.

"sh," he laughs out, placing a ball in your hand before tapping your hip. "go."

you look at him with wide eyes before they scan the room quickly, turning around and scurrying up the platform to throw the ball directly into the 10,000 point slot.

you run back with a smile, clapping your hands like you aren't the biggest cheater in this place and giggling when he plops you back down on the ground by your hips.

"there, we're even now," he says, looking at you with amusement in his light, brown eyes.

"so you were cheating!" you yelp, poking his chest lightly and feeling your heart stutter when his hand grabs it.

"no," he mumbles, "but i guess anything to keep you-"

"i saw that," a grouchy old worker tells you, her hair gray and thinning a sure sign this is the last place she wants to work. "do that again and you're out."

"sorry," you wince while yeosang begins to justify your actions. but you quickly elbow him, smiling politely at the lady before dragging him away from the skee ball machines.

"you weren't seriously gonna fight that lady," you say, voice laced with teasing and amusement.

"she interupted our date," he says lowly causing your eyes to roll as you lead him back toward the air hockey table. "it's annoying when people interrupt you when you're busy, huh? like at work, per se."

"oh shut up," he mumbles, squeezing his hand in yours that you had completely forgotten about. "because it doesn't seem like you'd mind now, hm?"

you rip your hand away quickly, mumbling "shut up" as heat rises to your cheeks. he grabs you again by the waist before you can leave, turning you in his hold to get a good look at the shy, flustered look on your face.

"look how pink you are," he says, hand grazing your cheek with a smile.

"stop it and let me go!" you squeak out, even more embarrassed as you wriggle in his hold.

"what if i don't want to?" he mumbles, words whispered as he brings his mouth to your ear. "what if i like seeing you a little flustered and blushing for me?"

you swallow down the lump that's quickly formed in your throat, giving yourself a few seconds to calm down and forget about his breath fanning over your skin before you push him away.

"then that's unfortunate for you," you snap, "now let's play."

his loud cackle booms through the noisy arcade, shaking his head before he confesses he let you win the whole time. you let out a scoff, the two of you arguing back and forth as you play which is what, you're convinced, led you to lose.

so you play four more games, all of them neck and neck until he easily scores the winning shot every single time. but the last game had really gotten to you, causing you in a fit of competetive rage to throw yourself on the table with a yelp of "no!"

he watches in amusement as your arm stretches to grab his puck, teasingly moving it back and forth in his hand as all of your internal organs slowly get crushed. you grumble pleas to "stop" and "give it to you" to which he smirks and promises he will one day.

and who comes around the corner at that moment other than the old lady from thirty minutes ago, narrowing her eyes at you guys before stomping over.

"i warned you," she spit, arms folded as she taps her foot at the both of you. "now get out."

you quickly scurry off the table and give her a small, apologetic smile. "i'm sorry, ma'am! i got too competitive! i promise it won't happen-"

"no. i said get out," she says roughly.

"but-"

"out!" she yells, her loud tone causing you to naturally jump back. you hit yeosang's hard body, his hand moving to squeeze your waist reassuringly.

"god, you're a bitch," he mumbles causing your eyes to widen.

"yeosang," you whisper.

her face twists into one of absolute rage, stomping over to you and going off about his lack of respect and asking if that's how his parents raised him.

"they told me to respect people who deserve it, not to respect people just because they're an old hag," he says, gripping your hand tightly and pulling you next to him. "you screaming in her face doesn't warrant shit."

he turns around when she starts to yell again, the both of you charging out of the arcade with a horrified look on your face.

"yeosang! i- you just called that woman an old hag! to her face!"

"and?" he says, interlacing your fingers as you scurry through the parking lot.

"that is....that was.... that was so mean!" you finally get out, covering your mouth with your hand as a shameful laugh bubbles out of it.

"oh yeah?" he quips, teasing in his tone as you stand in front of his motorcycle. "because you're laughing right now."

"stop, i can't help it," you giggle, biting your lip so a huge smile doesn't cross your face. "i guess that makes me as bad as you, right?"

his eyes roam your face, eyes full of a light and a giant smile that almost had him forgetting why he asked you out in the first place. why he has to keep up his acts of bringing you flowers and holding your hand and whispering in your ear.

why he's gently tucking your hair behind your ear, looking at you with the softest expression he can muster on his face.

"no," he mumbles into the cold air, "you're much better than me, y/n."

there's something about the way he says it that has your eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing to the side before you open your mouth to speak. but he's quick to place his black helmet on your head, snapping the buckle under your chin before revving up his motorcycle.

you sit on the back, your arms tightly wrapped around his abdomen as the wind whips past you and thoughts swarm in your head that maybe, if given the opportunity, you wouldn't mind going on a second date with him.

and lucky for you, many more opportunities came.

the next three weekends consist of dates with yeosang, fridays either going to new dinner spots or (disastrously) trying out rollerblading while on saturdays he came in to order his ten chocolate covered strawberries and waited around for the break you now save for his arrival.

tonight's date was at the movie theater, planning to see a horror movie despite your pleas to watch literally anything else. but yeosang was quick to snag you guys a seat in the back, guiding you in by the small of your back as he held the biggest tub of popcorn you'd ever seen.

the date started out normal, the two of you quietly chatting and laughing through the previews as your slightly greasy hands collided ever so often; he earned a small piece of popcorn being thrown at him when he commented on your butter fingers.

it was when the movie was about forty minutes in, proving to be as boring and slow as most horror movies were nowadays, that things took a turn. at first you thought nothing of it, his elbow hitting yours as he rested his arm on your armrest.

you tried to focus, keep your eyes on the screen and not turn to look at the boy you've really grown to like over this past month.

because while he was still a bit obnoxious and out of line sometimes, there was sometimes a glimmer in his soft eyes and smile that made your heart jump in your chest. and then towards the end of your days together, something else took over. a deeper, darker look that made your stomach tighten and palms sweat, his whispered words ghosting over your ear or the feel of his strong hands on your waist.

your focus wavers when you feel his hand fall to the top of your thigh, his pointer finger reaching down to graze your exposed skin ever so slightly. because you typically don't wear skirts but on your last dinner date, you had noticed yeosang's lingering gaze on your legs and you'd be lying if you said it didn't make feel happy and excited. (but, of course, if he had called you out on it, you'd insist you wore it because it was pretty and new).

you look down at it and bite your lip, turning to squint your eyes at him. but his are trained on the screen, an unreadable expression on his face like he can't feel your gaze penetrating his face.

you look back and swallow nervously, trying to ignore the feeling of his finger itching its way up your thigh slowly, almost painfully, like his skin is burning yours. he continues this for the next few minutes, dragging his finger up and down your thigh lightly before he suddenly palms it, squeezing lightly and causing you to harshly inhale.

"what-what are you doing?" you whisper to him lowly, his fingers resting on your inner thigh.

"nothing," he mumbles, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. "what are you doing?"

"i'm trying to watch this movie but you're-"

the distinct sound of someone shushing you from a few rows down causes you to stop talking, side-eyeing him but making no move to take his hand off your leg. and maybe that's cause every week, the desire's been creeping up on you. and now sitting here with him, in the dark, surrounded by a bunch of unsuspecting people, isn't exactly helping that feeling.

because would someone really notice if he-

you feel his fingers trail closer to the innermost part of your thigh, feeling a familiar searing sensation rip through your core causing you to grab his palm. at first he thinks he's fucked up, made you incredibly uncomfortable and drew a line that not even he would pass. but then he sees your heated gaze, your teeth sunken into your lip as your feet press into the floor.

"yeosang," you say warningly.

"y/n."

"what are you doing?" you repeat through your choked whisper.

"i'm bored, y/n," he whispers lowly before leaning closer to your ear. "and i've been wanting to play with this pretty pussy of yours for weeks now."

your mouth drops open at his words, a strangled laugh threatening to leave at his absurdity if the desire and clenching between your legs didn't completely overwhelm your entire being. so instead, a shaky exhale leaves your mouth as you squirm in your seat at the feel of wetness pooling.

"and you thought now would be the appropriate time?" you get out, voice strangled and clearly bothered but still with that underlying attitude it always seem to hold with him.

his breathy laugh fans over your ear, warm breath ghosting over your burning skin. "yeah," his deep voice mumbles out, "it's dark. and we're pretty spaced out." there were only a few other couples and groups in the movie theater, all of them near the front or middle.

"do you not want me to?" he asks, moving his hand out of your grasp to continue its assault on your inner thigh. "say the word and i'll take my hand away right now."

you meet his penetrative gaze, seduction and teasing in his brown eyes as a knowing smirk spreads over his lips.

it makes you absolutely hate that you can't say it, that your body is screaming to keep your mouth shut and not rob it of recieving any sort of relief. you only stare up into his cocky, teasy gaze, his tongue coming out to lick his lips when he sees the tightness in your glossy eyes.

"now let's see just how wet you are for me," he mumbles, your teeth digging into your own lip now so a tiny whine doesn't leave your mouth.

you attempt to control your ragged breathing when you feel his hand slip under your skirt, rubbing you slowly through your wet thong that causes quiet, synchronized curses to leave your mouths. him because he loves feeling just how much his touches effect you and you because his hands are finally on you.

"that's good, baby," he mumbles lowly, "you're doing really good for me. but i'm gonna need you to stay quiet, okay?"

your head lolls to the side, looking up at him and nodding before your eyes roll back when his hand moves your underwear to the side and his finger grazes over your clit. you whisper his name but it only causes his other hand to cover your mouth, slowly moving over you faster causing you to wriggle in the seat. your quiet moan is muffled by his hand and he smiles into the darkness, speeding up his finger's pace.

"you like this, pretty girl? does that feel good?"

too embarrassed to speak, your eyes shut as you welcome the pleasure his fingers are giving you. but then, like in some sick form of punishment for not acknowledging him, he pushes his finger into your dripping opening.

his eyes immediately widen when he feels just how tight you are around it, the tiny grimace on your face at the foreign feeling causing him to rip his hand out of your skirt.

"wait-are you a virgin?" he asks, his voice one of disbelief; he hadn't even considered that.

your eyes pop open as you nod your head, your lips turned into a pout at the feeling of being empty and wet. "why-why did you do that?"

the whine in your voice causes him to smirk, looking down at your legs where your skirt is rumpled at your thighs. "i thought i hurt you," he hums, "but you still want more?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you nod your head, feeling like every bit of pride and dignity you had was momentarily stripped from you. but the sensation between your legs and dripping down your thighs is almost too much to handle.

"do you want my fingers in you?" he asks lowly, bringing the hand that was just inside you to your lips, his thumb threatening to slip between them. "or how 'bout my mouth? something tells me you probably taste-"

a jump scare in the movie seems to bring both of you back to your surroundings, remembering you're very much still in public and surrounded by people. so when your glossy eyes meet, your own full of arousal as his remain dark and teasing, he takes your hand and out the door to his motorcycle.

you both slip into his bedroom fifteen minutes later, your hand still in his as he slams the door shut and locks it. the ache between your legs hasn't even subsided a little; if anything, it only grew more with your body straddled over his motorcyle as you clung on to his hard stomach.

so you just about die when he pushes you back on the bed and falls to his knees, exposing your wet core when he drags your underwear down your quivering legs. you crane your neck up to see him already looking at you, a sinister smile on his face just as his hand disappers under your skirt again.

"you're still wet for me, right?" he asks, his tone almost condescending but proving to make your arousal grow stronger.

you nod your head, a strangled plea to touch you falling from your lips. you feel the breath from his laugh fan onto you, your eyes shutting as his finger barely grazes over you.

"just a few more seconds, baby," he teases, "you can wait, can't you?" and even though he's getting off on the fact that you're desperate for him, face pinched into one of frustration and arousal as you wriggle underneath him, he feels himself grow hard looking at your wet pussy.

"yeosang," you whine, bucking your hips up in hopes that it'll give you some relief. any relief. just something other than the borderline painful throbbing shooting through you. because it's bad enough that you're stripped here, half naked for a boy you couldn't stand but are begging to get you off.

and he must take pity on you because of that, his small chuckle followed by the sound of your loud, abrupt moan when his tongue swipes over your slit. your head falls back onto the mattress when he licks up to your clit, lapping over it skillfully as your hands start gripping the sheets.

you hadn't felt anything like this before, his tongue licking and sucking every part of you as his own content hums and moans vibrate against you. he hears your breathing turn ragged as you choke on moans, trying to surpress the urge to scream out when he slowly slips a finger in you.

"moan for me, baby, it's okay," he assures in his deep voice, "let me hear you."

and hear you he does, high-pitched moans and a mantra of his name over and over again as he drills his two fingers into your wetnes and eats you out like a man starved. you feel yourself on the brink of coming when he suddenly stops like some sort of sadist, your head shooting up to see him taking off his own jeans and underwear. and that's when you realize just how hard he is, his veiny cock springing from his boxers as he pants pool at his feet.

"i'm sorry, baby, it was about to fall off," he laughs out, the sounds of your moans and the taste of you getting to him. "you're gonna come on my tongue, don't worry."

but before he dives back in, you place your hand on his forehead and move back on the bed, guiding him up with your hand.

"what?" he asks, eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out what you want. but being this forward causes your cheeks to warm, suddenly consumed by an unsure feeling. because you've never done anything like this before. you have no idea what you're doing and here you are-

"hey, what happened?" he asks, noticing your slight change in demeanor. his hand rests on your cheek as he slips into that soft voice that makes your heart flutter.

"i just...don't you wanna come too?" you ask quietly, eyes nervously filtering around the room.

he smiles down at you, moving his thumb over your skin as he shakes his head. "i mean, of course i do," he laughs out, "but this was about you. i wasn't gonna...expect anything from you."

but then the unanimous decision that 69 would be best case scenario won, your warnings that you've never done this before and might be awful calmed by his assurance that as long as your pussy is in his mouth and your lips are wrapped around his cock, nothing could be that awful.

you take your time learning by listening to his reactions, licking around his tip and feeling him groan against you before you take him in your mouth. you bob your head up and down, spitting down him like he suggested and then finding a motion that only seemed to spur him on above.

his tongue dove into your opening with an eagerness that had you moaning against his cock, planting yourself harder on his face as he lapped up your wetness and played with your clit.

you came with a loud moan around his cock soon after, the vibrations causing him to buck his hips further into your mouth and making you to gag. he was quick to pull you off him and lay you down, placing a kiss on your sweaty head before taking his own dick in his hand and jerking off until he released onto your stomach.

you'd probably be a little disgusted by the sight of his semen if you weren't so blissed out, eyes heavy and heart racing as you lay there in a post orgasm daze. after cleaning you and himself up, he lays down beside you and smiles seeing you in your tired state.

"how was that, baby?" he hums lowly. already exposed and vulnerable, you roll over to rest your head on his chest, mumbling something that sounds like a mix of "so good" and "amazing" into his skin.

he chuckles before pulling the blanket up and around you both, his hand running through your sweaty, slighty-knotted hair until he hears your steady, even breaths of sleep. he lays there for a few moments and allows himself this bliss. the bliss he absolutely doesn't deserve. somewhere deep inside his chest reminding him, screaming at him in guilt and horror.

he rips himself away from you and pulls on a pair of sweatpants before quietly leaving the room, being met with the disappointed faces of san and hongjoong who were mindlessly watching tv.

"hey," he says quietly, padding his way over and plopping down on the couch. it's no secret they had gotten a good idea of what just happened, hearing the muffled moans and calls of yeosang's name.

it's a few minutes of tense, slightly awkward silence until san breaks it.

"you went too far, yeosang," his friend says, shaking his head as he looks at the bedroom door.

"what're you talking about?" he asks, the sinking feeling in his heart and stomach proving he knows exactly what the boy's talking about.

yeosang watches the smoke swirl out of the window as he puts his cigarette out in the dirt. "i have an idea," he says, the seven other boys turning their attention to the smirking boy with an all too familiar look in his eye.

"oh god, i know that look," san says cautiously, "what sadistic shit did your brain just conjure up?"

"not sadistic," yeosang assures, placing his arm on the back of the couch. "rather juvenile. but i think it'd work a lot better than the alternative."

jongho's eyebrow raises, dapping at his face with antiseptic cream as he looks in the mirror. "what're you going on about?"

"i figured we have two options," he explains, going over his plan that, of course, they could go after changbin. punch and kick and fight him until his face looks ten times worse than jongho's.

but why not target someone he loves? someone that he finds himself responsible for, no matter how poorly he may treat them. someone that peeked his interest just enough for him to devise this sort of twisted plan: get to know you, date you, 'fall in love' with you just for him to end things in the name of changbin and his hatred toward him and his friends.

"you're not honestly considering this," san says to yeosang when he's done talking, "you can't play with someone's heart like that! that's fucked up, even for you."

"it's perfect!" wooyoung says, ignoring san's words as he claps his hands together. "jevenile, you're right. but perfect. nothing like using someone's sister for revenge. ooooh do you know how pissed he'll be too when he finds out his own sister is dating you, of all people?"

the boys look at each other warily, parts of them thinking it'll be harmless fun while others are thinking this could quite possibly be their friend's worst idea yet.

"i'm with san, i don't like it either," hongjoong says, "she was nice to us and apologized. i dont't think she deserves to be dragged into this."

"she dragged herself in when she inserted herself into her brother's fights," wooyoung says, not being able to get passed his anger and bitterness at watching jongho getting injured. "she also probably thinks of us the same way he does."

the boys bicker back and forth about the plan, yeosang remaining silent as he toys with the cigarette in his pocket. but hongjoong can see the boy has already made up his mind, that he's narrowed himself in on you and plans to carry out whatever else he's concocted in that brain of his.

"he's gonna do whatever he wants, guys," hongjoong says, halting the boy's voices as he looks at yeosang. "whatever we say isn't even gonna matter, is it?"

"probably not," he says with a smirk because his friend really does know him well. "besides, she was a fiesty little thing. she might end up being more trouble than she's worth."

"you said date her, not bring her to the house and fuck her," san spits angrily, not at all liking how this little plan of his is playing out.

"i didn't fuck her, she's a- she hasn't done that before."

hongjoong and san's eyes widen, the latter boy running a hand through his hair in frustration; that makes everything worse.

"yeosang..." hongjoong says warningly.

"i know what i'm doing," he snaps, "jeez, it's not that big of a deal."

"not that big of a deal?" san says, voice raising as he shakes his head. "you're using her to get back at her asshole of a brother! how is that not-"

"shut the fuck up, san," yeosang growls lowly, shooting up from the couch and over to his friend, "she's sleeping."

"maybe i should wake her up then," san says, standing up and going over to the boy, "let her know what an asshole you're being right now and tell her the truth."

"like you being a little bitch is any better," yeosang spits, "you don't even know the whole truth so stop rubbing your mouth." hongjoong sees the exact moment san considers punching him in the face, his small fists bawled before he jumps up and throws his body between the two boys.

"stop. both of you."

and because hongjoong's word is final, the two boys stare at one another before yeosang scoffs. he makes it a point to bump into san's shoulder roughly, pretending that the angry brewing in him is aimed at the boy and not himself.

a feeling of deja vu hits you when you walk into your classmate's house and your eyes collide with yeosang, a small smile on your face as he nods his head at you.

you guys have been seeing each other for a little over two months now, texting when you can during the week and spending every friday and saturday together. it was concerning how fast you let your guard down with him and it only proved to deepen your feelings, both your emotional nd physical bond getting stronger and stronger everyday.

it's why you guys can barely keep your eyes off each other, gazes meeting and smiles spreading across your face before you nervously look away or get called out by your friend.

"why does he keep smiling at you?" your friend asks.

"yeah," the other girl goes, "you keep looking at him too! do you guys know each other?"

you can only nod your head, informing them that he sometimes comes into your bakery since it's technically not a lie, afterall. they look at him with a grimace before rolling their eyes, dragging you away so you're out of his view. "we can't have you associating with him," they said.

so you could only imagine how surprised they were when an hour later, you waltzed right up to yeosang and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"finally," he mumbles in your ear, resting his hand on your hip and squeezing it lightly. "i've been waiting for you."

"they kept ushering me away," you tell him over the blaring music, "didn't want me around a bunch of deliquents."

you suddenly hear a loud deep voice booming the words to the song, turning around to see yeosang's two large friends dropping their asses to the floor.

"a elle le gusta la gasolina!" the red-haired one sings, beer in the air shortly followed by the other's "dame mas gasolina!"

you can't help but burst out laughing, snapping your head to yeosang who watches them with a blank expression. "yeah, cause that's what are. deliquents," he says dryly.

you hadn't really gotten to know his friends very well, just exchanged polite hi's and bye's when you happen to see them when you visit their house. they all seemed nice enough, though you did find it strange that none of them could really look you in the eye. you figured it was because of changbin's antics, who you made sure to apologize again for when you saw jongho.

"they're good," you comment, giggling when the one yeosang introduced as yunho winks playfully at you.

he drags you in front of him by your hip, pushing your body back into his crotch and causing your eyes to widen. what the hell is he- "but i'm sure you're better," he hums in your ear, moving his body against yours ever so slightly and causing you to snort.

"stop it," you giggle, pushing yourself back into him harshly. "i went my whole high school career not grinding at a sleazy party and i'd like to keep it that way."

he turns you in his hold so your chests are flush against one another, his arms wrapped around your waist as you splay your fingers across his chest.

"i thought that was because you never had anyone to grind with," he mumbles in your ear, smiling into your hair when he hears you scoff.

"not technically, no.... but i probably could've if i wanted to," you whine, cheeks warming as he calls out your lack of experience.

"but you didn't," he says, voice dropped the way it always is when you're behind his closed bedroom door. "and now you have me."

you crane your neck back to look at him, eyes wide and curious as you bite your lip to hide your smile. because you suppose this is the closest you two have come to putting an official title on whatever you two have been doing. going on dates and holding hands and fumbling under his warm comforter while you swallow each other's moans.

"oh...really?" you squeak and your voice sounds so hopeful and happy that it makes his heart tug for more than one reason. but he smiles through it, pecks a kiss right onto your lips in front of everyone.

"of course, baby," he chuckles out, "what'd you think we were doing?"

"i don't know," you blush again, a shy smile making it's way on your face. "i don't know the proper procedure."

"proper procedure?" he asks, raising an eyebrow teasingly causing you to giggle into your palm and smack his chest lightly.

"stop making fun of me!"

"i'm sorry, you're just so cute," he says, reaching his hand up to pinch your cheek causing your nose to scrunch in distaste. but then his voice drops again, eyes falling to the lips as a sinister, teasing smirk crosses his face. "even when you're gagging on my cock, you're still so-"

"what. the. fuck," you hear a familiar voice behind you, jumping around with flushed cheeks and wide eyes to see changbin staring at the both of you with fire in his eyes. at yeosang's hands on your hips and your bodies pressed flush against each other.

you can only stare blankly, eyes wide and mouth agape because how the hell could you have forgotten your brother was here? and now he's so angry looking at the both of you comfortably pressed up against one another, the familiar twinge of anxiety and nervousness creeping it's way into your bones when you're around a pissed off changbin ready to fight.

"changbin, if you would just-"

"get your hands off her. now," your brother demands, jaw clenched and body advancing forward like he's about to snatch you out of yeosang's arms. but the boy's quick to turn you around, angle your body to the side to ensure no one's taking you away from him.

"i don't think i will," yeosang says cooly, evenly, like an eerie calmness before a storm.

"you're really out of your fucking mi-"

"she's my girl and brother or not, you won't tell me what to do," yeosang snaps, watching his jaw tick and face turn to one of absolute rage. "especially when you're so angry."

"your gir- y/n, you're dating him? what the fuck is wrong with you!" he screams, the people around you falling silent as they side-eye you.

"don't yell at me, changbin, it's none of your business," you snap, trying to get yourself out of yeosang's hold.

"how do you figure, little sister," he spits sarcastically, "you're making us look so stupid, don't you know that? you look like the biggest idiot."

"i suggest you shut your fucking mouth," yeosang growls, watching as changbin's harsh gaze turns from you to him.

"what, you're too big a pussy to go after me so you target my sister?" he asks. you feel yeosang's hold let go out of you and advance toward your brother who's collar is quickly grabbed again.

"what gave you the impression i'm a pussy?" he asks, tightening his hold on his shirt and turning his neck to the side. "like i won't fuck you up right now."

"then do it and see what happens, see how fast my sister leaves you," changbin snaps before smikring, "not like you really give a shit about her anyway, right?"

one of yeosang's friends, sporting soft brown eyes and a dimply smiles tries to guide you away from them when he sees you watching them in a panic. but you're quick to jump in the middle of them, pull yeosang back by the shirt who immediately releases your brother when he feels your touch.

and because you know your brother, you're quick to jump around to the middle and drag him out the door into the cold, outside air.

"what is your problem?!" you ask, voice raising and threatning to wobble. "why do you always have to start shit?"

"you can't be serious, y/n. you really can't be that fucking stupid!"

your face drops when as he yells harshly in your face, pressing your lips into one another so you don't scream or cry. but it doesn't stop your brother from shaking his head and continuing to give you a reality check. because he's a boy, a mean one at that, and it's abundantly clear to him what yeosang is doing.

"he's using you to get back at me, y/n. for punching his little coconut head friend," he says, your eyes narrowing at his petty insult. "how do you not see that?"

"you're so full of yourself, changbin," you spit, in disbelief that someone could actually have an ego this inflated. because it's bad enough your own parents make you surround your weekend with his nonsense but now he really has the balls to think he's able to have that effect on other people as well? that the only reason a boy would talk and interact and show an interest in you was because of him?

"maybe he just likes me for me. would that be so hard to believe?"

but he only rolls his eyes at your dramatics, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head at you. "whatever, y/n. just don't come crying to me when you discover i was right." he pushes passed you and disappears back into the house, the door slamming behind him and causing you to exhale shakily.

you plop down on the steps and put your head in your hands, frustrated and hurt and annoyed at him; changbin's never been there for you ever. you can't think of a time he was ever nice to you or stuck up for you, not when people used to bully you at school or when your parents on the daily yell at you for nonsense.

and now the one time you finally get a boy that likes you, he can't even do the big brother thing and be happy for you. he has to assume the worse case scenario and make everything about him.

you sit there in the cold for a few minutes, rubbing over your pounding temples and shivering when a cold breeze tickles your skin. you hear the door open behind you, moving down a step with a small apology until yeosang is crouched down below you. a small smile appears on his face upon seeing your red, cold cheeks.

"it's cold out here, babe," he mumbles, placing his warm hands on your cheeks causing your eyes to drop into your lap.

"i-i don't wanna go back in there," you tell him quietly, for some reason feeling embarrassed that changbin made those accusations about him. "i just can't believe him," you mumble, "he's such an asshole. how could he say that-"

"it's okay," he grunts out, voice tight and strained and you imagine it's because another harsh whip of wind hits you both in the face. "he doesn't matter."

you look up at him, heart and stomach fluttering when you see something twinged in his brown eyes that you've never seen before. it's an emotion you can't quite pinpoint, his eyes roaming your face as his thumbs gently start to stroke your cheeks.

"how 'bout we just go?" he says softly, "we can go back to my room and just hang out. or i can bring you home." but you're quick to shake your head, a small shy smile when you tell him you wanna stay with him.

so he pecks your cheek, interlaces your fingers and drags you over to his motorcycle. he plops his helmet on your head the way he always does, snapping it under your chin before bringing your arms around his waist.

you spend the night in his bed, feet tangled as you talk and giggle and kiss until he slips his fingers between your legs and moans ring throughout his room.

the knot in yeosang's stomach only grew over the past two weeks, changbin's words and the way he couldn't even assure you that they weren't true eating him alive. because he'll admit it started that way, he didn't have any intention of actually coming to have feelings for you. but ever since that night, he can't stop wracking his brain over how wrong he's been. how stupid and mean and childish the idea was in the first place and that now maybe he deserves all the guilt and anxiety ridding his body.

because it didn't take him long to realize he geninely loves your company, loves the way you smile at him and laugh and chastise him when he gets a little too out of line. and if all of that didn't make it clear to him that you were the real deal for him, seeing you with tears in your eyes outside of the bakery surely did the trick.

he had come to pick you up for your friday night date when he saw you and an older man talking animately to each other, both your faces pinched in anger though yours hold the slightest hint of fear and frustration.

"because i have plans with my friend, dad!" you screech, resisting the urge to stomp your foot. and to anyone else walking by, it would look like you were a bratty teenage girl disobeying your father. "why should i have to go and babysit him? he's a 17-year-old boy!"

"really, y/n," he spats, his eyes burning into yours and you know it's taking everything in him to not put his fist through the glass window. "i give you everything you could possibly need and you can't do this one thing for me?"

you resist the urge to roll your eyes because that's always his line. throwing it in your face that he provides you with food and shelter and clothing when really, that's what he signed up for when he decided to have kids. because you work this job for your own money, never asking him for a cent and even offering to pay for your own phone bill.

"because it's not fair," you whine, "i should be able to do my own things without having to follow my older brother around. i don't understand why you even enable this be-"

"who do you think you're talking to!" he shouts, your body retracting at the sound as a squeal leaves your mouth. "you should just do the things i tell you to do."

"well why can't changbin do things you tell him! like not to get into fights like a child."

yeosang listens from across the street, his legs itching to go over and help you but thinking it might do more harm than good. but once he sees the familiar twitch of your dad's hand moving up, more shouts leaving his mouth, he's quick to rev his motorcycle.

your head snaps to the side, looking at the boy's figure covered by his black helmet and tears spring to your eyes because you just wanna be with him, far away from your dad and brother and family who do nothing but harass you.

"i don't know what's gotten into you but-"

"i left my sweatshirt inside," you suddenly snap, "and my friend's gonna be here soon. i'm not going, dad. i'm done watching over your grown son."

and with that, shoulders flinching up to your ears because there's a 50% chance you're about to get smacked, you pull open the door to the bakery and wait behind the register until you see your father stomp towards his car. you shakily exhale, grasping the counter to reign yourself in. you're happy you were able to stand up for yourself, finally tell your father just how absurd it is that he's been making you enable changbin's behavior; but that doesn't mean it had been easy.

because that was only half the battle, now you'll have to deal with more backlash from him and your mom and maybe even changbin himself if he ever decides to talk to you again.

and the thought of having to do that sends you into a nervous panic, not wanting to deal with the hostile environment and the fighting and the-

the ding of the bell rips you from your frazzled, panicked thoughts, your mouth opening to stutter out an apology that you're closed until your glossy eyes meet yeosang's. a small smile rests on his face as he makes his way up to the counter, tucking your hair behind your ear gently.

"am i still able to get chocolate-covered strawberries?" he asks, his eyes and tone teasing, "i know you're closing but have a date tonight and i really think she'd like them."

a small, half-hearted giggle leaves your mouth as you nod your head getting ready to grab a box and tray before his arm reaches out and grabs your wrist. "hey, i was kidding," he says softly with warm, brown eyes to match.

"oh," you squeak, your cheeks warming at the way he's looking at you. "sorry."

his eyes narrow at you, tongue poking out to swipe across his lip contemplatively. "c'mere," he suddenly mumbles, fingers moving in a curved motion. you raise your eyebrow but obey nonetheless, walking out from around the counter before his arms reach out and wrap around you in a hug.

you close your eyes the second your head hits his chest, letting out a sigh of relief you didn't realize you needed when his arms close around your body and he hums lowly in your ear. "what happened?"

tears prick your eyes as you think back to the encounter with your dad, swallowing the lump in your throat and basking in the familiar scent of cigarettes and cologne. his hand toys with the end strands of your hair, patiently waiting for you to answer until he hears your breathing start to labor.

"y/n?" he mumbles, pulling back to take your face in his hands. you watch his expression fall as his eyes roam over your face, the concern laced in them causing your lip to tremble.

"please don't cry," he begs, his stomach plummeting when he reaches up to wipe a stray tear that's escaped your eye.

"i'm sorry," you say, voice breaking as you shake your head. "i'm just so... frustrated."

"was that your dad?"

"yes," you grunt out, sadness and frustration quickly being replaced by anger at the mere mention of him. "he wanted me to go out with changbin and got mad when i said i had other plans. why-why should i have to do that, yeosang?" you yelp, tears still gathering but voice getting louder and more exasperated. "he's a grown man! they completely enable the behavior and then they yell at me like i'm the asshole here."

"i know," he says softly, rubbing his hand over your hair soothingly. "it's really not fa-"

"you're right, it's not fair!" you interupt in your heat of passion and venting, "because then i feel bad and now when i go back home, the house is gonna be tense and awkward and oh, my god i'm gonna-"

his lips on yours stop the words from leaving your mouth, his arm tightning around your waist as he pushes you back into the counter. you meet his kiss with fevor, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to slip in your mouth. you moan at the intrusion, bringing your hands to the back of his head and pulling on the honey blonde strands of his hair.

your mouths break apart as he rests his forehead on yours, looking into your wide, glossy eyes. "i'm sorry," he mumbles, "but you needed to-"

"shut up," you say, jumping up on the counter and pulling him back down to your lips. he chuckles into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your neck as he pulls you closer to him. desire builds between your legs the more you kiss, his tongue slipping easily into your mouth and groaning when your own meets his.

he lets it slide the first time, knowing you're in a pissed off state but when you do it three more times, he's quick to pull away. his hand follows to your throat, wrapping around it and causing your eyes to widen.

"careful, baby," he mumbles lowly, his thumb rubbing over your rapid pulse point. "i know you're troubled but remember who's in charge here, hm?"

and at that point, you're almost sure you're gonna let him fuck you on the counter you work at every weekend. but the small part of your brain not completely absorbed by desire and lust screams at you about how unsanitary that is, how you can't allow your little boss's business to succumb to a place you lose your virginity.

"can we- can we go back to your place?"

he pulls back to look at you, hand still wrapped around your neck as he sees the growing desire and fire in your eyes that match his. but he had every intention of bringing you out on a real date, to dinner and maybe another movie that wouldn't end with his hand under your skirt.

"i thought maybe we'd go to dinner or-"

"no," you whine, shaking your head as you feel your thighs clench together. "i wanna go to your house."

his eyebrow raises, trying to calm down the excitement brewing in his lower half. because after everything that's happened, he thinks this might be the worst possible thing to do.

but he's aware of his geuine feelings for you, knows since the first date ended that his stupid little plan was never gonna be a thing and that what he feels for you is real.

so that's why he does what you ask and brings you to his house, locking the door to his room and stripping you down before licking up the arousal between your legs and planting his mouth on your clit. he slides two fingers in with ease, curling them up and relishing in the way you scream out his name.

"more," you begged, hands pulling and twisting and tugging at his hair so hard he's almost sure it's about to fall out.

"you want a third?" he mumbles from between your legs, "can your tight little pussy take that?"

"no, your cock," you say and the words falling from your mouth cause his already aching dick to grow harder. because you've always been so compliant, only moans of yes or his name echoing through his room.

"baby..." he says warningly. because no matter how hard he is, he knows it's your first time. and a part of him feels like it isn't right, given the day you've had.

"yeosang, please," you beg, on the verge of tears again by how wrecked and aroused you feel. "i'm-i'm ready."

he abandons his spot between your legs to lean over you, his face over your flushed one as he stares straight into your glossy eyes. "baby, i want too. believe me, i do," he says, bringing his hand into you hair again. "but i think after everything, maybe we shouldn't- i don't wanna-"

in a lust-induced daze, you take his hand and put it between your legs letting him feel just how wet and ready you are for him. "i'm ready and i need you," you whine, moving your hips so your pussy drags against his hand. "i need you to fuck me."

he swallows down the lump in his throat, never once feeling his cock ache the way it did upon hearing you say that. his takes your jaw between his hand, squeezing ever so slightly so your faces are nearly pressed together.

"you sure?" he asks, watching your face as he slips a finger back into you. you moan out at the feeling, your legs shaking as you spread them further.

"yes," you say, repeating the words over and over until he silences you with his lips. he kisses you as he aligns himself between your legs, rubbing his tip against your slit teasingly and chuckling when you pull your lips away to whine his name.

"alright, baby, it might sting, okay?"

but you're pleasantly surprised when you don't feel much pain at all. he's slow and inches his way in further and further until your walls adjust around his length, only the first two thrusts rather uncomfortable until the third smacks you with a feeling of finally.

your moans ring out over and over, his hard length moving in and out of you causing your eyes to roll back. yeosang has to control himself from not busting right away, your tight clenching and fucked out expression nearly bringing him over the edge everytime he looked at you.

"how's that feel, baby?" he grunts out, voice deep and guttural. but you can only moan in response, moving your hips to meet his steady thrusts. "do you know how happy it makes me to know i'm the only one who's fucked you?"

his hand comes down to toy with your clit, rubbing and tweaking it gently as he continues to pound into you. "you're mine and this pussy's mine now. you know that?"

you chest heaves up and down as your breathing picks up, his words and thrusts and fingers causing the familiar tightening in your stomach to be the most intense you've ever felt. "yeosang, holyshit, holy fuck, i'm gonna-"

loud, squeaky moans leave your mouth when your first orgasm hits, followed by longer deeper ones when his thrusts becomes more sporadic, movements sloppy as he chases after his own high. his brain reminds him to pull out just before he comes, releasing on your stomach with low, deep groans.

you lay there with your eyes closed, feeling boneless as he wipes your stomach and legs before placing a kiss on your forehead. you hear him move around the room before crawling back in next to you, gently moving you until you're both under his comforter. you turn your head to look at him, eyes lazily opening as a shy, satisfied smile crosses your face.

"are you good?" he asks, "you feel okay?"

"i feel like...i wanna do that again in ten minutes," you say honestly, a blush creeping up on your face when he bursts out laughing and pulls you into him.

"i think i'll be able to make that happen, love," he says, pecking your cheek with multiple, loud kisses before trailing his lips down your neck.

it takes you a few seconds to remember where you are when your eyes pop open the next morning, looking around at the walls and comforter before realizing you're in yeosang's bed. the very same bed you spent hours in last night, exploring every surface of each other's bodies with your mouths and hands.

you sit up and stretch your arms up with a tiny groan, feeling a bit of soreness between your legs when you start to move around the room for a pair of pants. but as you put on the t-shirt and sweatpants he left on his dresser, you know every bit of it was worth it. because he truly is a talented man, you think any of his personality faults could be made up with by the sheer power and skill his fingers have.

except, maybe, when you open the door to his bedroom and hear him and his friend seonghwa talking in the kitchen area.

"you have to tell her," seonghwa says quietly. "tell her that your feelings changed and that you regret ever even thinking like that."

" but what if- i can't even think about-"

"she has to know, yeosang," the boy says adamantly, "it wouldn't be right if you kept it from her."

your stomach drops as you listen to the boy's words, hearing yeosang sigh heavily.

"i know. but what the fuck," he says, the frustration and fear in his tone obvious. "how do i tell her something like that? i can't just be like hey, y/n, your brother was actually right, i was just using you to get back at him but now i'm-"

you can't even stop the broken "what?" from escaping your mouth as your chest caves in.

yeosang and seonghwa's heads immediately snap up to you, both of their faces falling before the blonde boy charges to you. "y/n, wait..."

your eyes sting and chest burns as you go back in the room, slamming his own door shut as you frantically start looking for your clothes.

because how fucking stupid could you have been. how could you not have seen that he'd been faking everything? was he that good of an actor? or were you really just an absolute idiot blinded by a hot guy in a leather jacket?

yeosang comes barreling in the room less than a second later, face frantic and panicked.

"y/n, you have to listen to me."

a maniac laugh falls from your lips as you shake your head frantically, taking his shirt off as you back yourself into the opposite side of his room.

"fuck you."

"baby, i know that sounded bad but you have-"

"don't call me that!" you screech, throwing his shirt across the room as you quickly slip on yours. "you're disgusting, you're so fucking disgusting, oh my god."

"y/n, i said that stupid shit the first night i met you because we were all pissed at what changbin did and i-"

"stop!" you screech, fumbling to take off his pants as you slip on your jeans, "stop talking. i-i don't wanna hear anything you have to say."

"i regret even saying that after our first date because i could tell i was really gonna like you, that i wanted-"

"shut up," you snap, getting your bag from his dresser and making your way to his bedroom door. he grabs you gently by the arm and brings you into him, disgust making its way up your throat as he holds you in his arms.

"baby, please," he begs, voice wavering and fearful, "just give me five minutes to-"

"i said don't fucking call me that!" you yell, placing your hands on his chest and forcefully pushing him back. your eyes meet his and you feel the humiliation and embarassment flood through you. because you're still so stupid and blinded, thinking there's actual hurt swirling in his eyes as he looks at you on the verge of a breakdown.

"we had sex," you blurt out, tears swarming in your eyes that start to leak down your cheeks. "i-i gave you my-" you can't even get the words out before a humorless laugh slips out of your mouth. "you fucking lied about everything, yeosang. you lied straight to my face and took me on dates and had fucking sex with me."

"i didn't lie, i never lied," he says, making his way over to you as he holds out his hands . "i like you, y/n, i like you so fucking much and i regretted saying that stupid shit the second i-"

"i never wanna see you again, do you understand me?" you say, voice breaking as you look in his eyes one last time. "don't ever talk to me again."

"y/n, please-" but you quickly turn around and make your way out the door with your head hung low, scurrying past the seven boys on the couch who are trying to act like they hadn't just heard everything.

yeosang runs out of his room the second the upstairs door slams shut, the seven pairs of eyes going from the staircase to the dishevled, broken boy standing in the doorway.

"yeosang," hongjoong says tentatively, unable to gauge if the boy's about to cry or punch a hole in the wall. but he himself isn't too sure what he's gonna do, walking over to the couch and sinking into it as his head falls into his hands.

"i fucked up," he grumbles, voice wet and wobbling, "i fucked up so bad."

"i told you," san's voice says sadly after a few moments of silence, the other boys looking at him with wide eyes because now is so not the time for i told you so. but yeosang can only look at him, watery eyes on the boy as he nods his head.

"i know you did," he says and the whole room can hear how devastated he is. how his mind is already screaming at him, fearful that it just ruined one of the best things he's ever had.

the car ride back to your house is silent, changbin's grip on the wheel tight as he listens to you cry into your hands. he knows you both have your issues, that you fight and dislike each other more often than not, but seeing you cry is something he'll always consider to be one of his least favorite things.

"are you gonna tell me what happened, y/n?" he asks, tone surprisingly calm and even.

"no changbin," you spit, "i already told you 500 times that i don't wanna talk about it."

the car stops a few minutes later and you figure you're at a red light until you feel him put it in park. your teary eyes shoot up to look at him, lips pursing together so a loud sob doesn't leave them.

"if you don't tell me, i'm turning around and asking him myself."

and that's when you break down even further, lips trembling as ugly, horrific sobs start to leave you. he can only stare blankly for a few moments before awkwardly reaching his hand out to place it on your shoulder, shock quickly replacing his face when you harshly knock it off.

"don't touch me!" you scream, "this is your fault in the first place!"

his eyebrows furrow together at your outburst, turning his head to look at you. "what? what are you talking about?"

"you were right, okay," you say, voice considerably more weak and saddended from just seconds ago. "he-he was using me. because of what you did to his friend. and i was so fucking stupid and didn't see it and you were right all along and-"

"okay, wait, wait, slow down," he says, "what happened? how did you find this out?"

"why the hell does that matter," you squeak, "all that matters is he fucking lied to me and i never wanna see him again!"

changbin's eye remain narrowed as his brain wracks itself over a conversation, his mouth opening to speak before you beat him to it.

"can we just go home, please," you beg, "i just wanna go to sleep."

he looks over to see your face wet and eyes puffy, body and soul completely drained and in need of sleep. so he spares you for now, driving you home where you end up not leaving your room for three straight days.

by the fourth day of you missing school, telling your parents your stomach still doesn't feel right and you're gonna vomit, he's had enough.

changbin charges into your room before he leaves for school, plopping down on your bed and smacking your head with one of your many decor pillows.

"leave me alone, changbin," you whine, moving your head to bury it in your sheets.

"no," he says, crawling over your legs to sit on the other side. "you've wallowed enough. now you have to sit up so i can tell you something."

"i don't care," you dramatically whine, "i don't wanna hear anything you have to tell me."

"what if i tell you yeosang told me himself that he was using you?"

your head snaps up immediately, unwashed knotty hair a mess as you stare at him with wide eyes and an empty feeling in your chest.

"what?"

"maybe he just likes me for me. would that be so hard to believe?"

changbin can only roll his eyes at your dramatics, letting out a scoff as he shakes his head at you. "whatever, y/n. just don't come crying to me when you discover i was right." he pushes passed you and into the house, bumping into the shoulder of a familiar leather jacket.

"oops, sor-" the deep male voice says until his head snaps up. "oh."

changbin's head snaps up, eyes narrowing at the boy and resisting the urge to punch him int he face.

"yeah, oh," he says sarcastically, pushing the boy back roughly. "stay the hell away from my sister."

"what part of she's my girl didn't you understand?" the boy says back daringly, looking at him with such determination and sureness he'd respect him if they were in any other circumstances.

"you're fucking nuts, you know that?" changbin laughs out, pushing him again until he hits the back of the wall. "our issues are with each other. so why go after her, huh? are you that scared of me?"

"i'm not scared of you at all actually," yeosang snaps back, "if i was, would i straight up be telling you that was initially my plan?"

it takes a second for changbin to register what the boy actually just told him, his eyebrows furrowed together. because there was no way he just admitted to his face that he was going to-

"i was gonna do that at first, use her to get even and have you pissed off," he says, "but that plan went to shit right after our first date when i realized i would end up having feelings for her."

"wow, how romantic," changbin bites sarcastically, "is that supposed to earn you my approval, you twisted fuck?"

"no, because i'm not asking for your approval. i just want you to know my feelings for her are genuine."

changbin's eyebrow raises at his comment, the intensity in his eyes and tone telling him the kid is telling the truth.

"you know, you give her a lot of unnecessary stress with your petty bullshit and fighting. she cares about you a lot and you take advantage of that."

changbin's neck tenses up and he pops it to the side, taking a step closer to the boy as his voice drops threateningly. "you don't know anything so i suggest you-”

"i'm not trying to start shit with you," yeosang says, rolling his eyes and pushing him back slightly because this idiot totally missed the point. "but if you can't stop being an asshole for yourself, then at least do it for her. because she feels obligated to you and your parents even though she shouldn't."

and with that, changbin watches him walk past him and open the front door. he sees your figure hunched over, head in your hands as you sit out in the cold and something about that image mixed with yeosang's words causes his stomach to sink.

you remain speechless after changbin tells you about his and yeosang's conversation, teeth digging into your lip as you mull over the this new information. because parts of it make you feel a little bit better, that he was honest to you about the timeline and did truly have feelings for you.

but he still lied to you. still based your relationship off lies and negativity and made you feel so incredibly humiliate during those first few moments of finding out.

"i'm not saying what he did was right and i still don't particularly like him," changbin says, "but i think any malicious intent he had lasted for about three seconds. you seem to have the guy pretty whipped."

a humorless laugh leaves your mouth as you shake your head, pursing your lips to the side in thought. "but he still lied to me," you say quietly, "he started our whole relationship off on a lie to get stupid revenge on you."

changbin's hand comes up to pat your head like you're a little lap dop, your nose scrunching up at him in distaste before a small smile crosses his face. "it's obviously gonna be your decision, y/n, i was just saying my thoughts."

and with that, he gets up and heads toward your door. you watch him turn in the doorway, looking at you cuddled up in bed and looking so much like the little sister he used to torment. "i'm also gonna tell dad to lay off you about being my babysitter," he says teasingly, "i'm getting kind of old, right?"

"kind of?" you quip sarcastically, a smile tugging at your lips when he throws his middle finger up at you and slams your door shut. your first laugh in days bubbles out of your mouth before you roll over in bed, staring at the ceiling as you mule over everything in your head.

the next time you see yeosang, it's the first time you ever get drunk. another party with only 'northerners' left it without incident, changbin not only friendly and cordial but also sober to keep a watchful eye on you.

which by the end of the night, was absolutely needed. because four shots and two beers would've been a decent amount for any high school girl but especially one who hadn't drank before.

and with a week to think over your situation with yeosang, it was clear drunk you had finally come to a consensus as you dial up his number; he had respected your wishes and hadn't once contacted you, a sinking feeling in you that maybe it's actually because he didn't care enough to try.

but then he answered one the first ring, a frantic "hello?" spoken into the phone that was met with your drunk, girlish giggle.

"i-i've missed your voice, wow," you stutter, the deep, gruffness something all too desirable. "what are youuu doing."

"are you drunk?" he asks, the sound of him moving in the background getting lost in your ringing ears.

"are- are you drunk?" you gasp, "oh no, how are-are you gonna get me on your coooool motorcycle bad boy yeosang."

he'd laugh at you in other circumstance but right now, he has no idea where you are or if you're in a safe space or if you're about to remember what he did and hang up on him.

"where are you? is changbin with you?"

"changbin?" you squeak, the boy snapping his head to look at you. "he's right next to me! he-he told me you guys talked, ya know. k-kind of saved your ass, if i'm being honest."

"can i talk to him?"

you hand the phone to changbin as you tiredly lean against the wall, shutting your eyes as your body starts to feel boneless and warm. you hear the sound of changbin's voice and even a strangled chuckle before he hangs up the phone, guiding you toward the corner of your room where your bag is.

"where-where are we going?"

"yeosang's gonna come pick you up. is that okay?" changbin asks softly.

"he is?" you squeal happily, "tha-that's okay. i've missed him. i-i want to see him."

"okay, good," changbin says, "because he's coming. let's go wait for him."

he guides you up the stairs and out the door carefully, holding on to your arm and trying not to laugh when you almost face-plant several times. your eyes stay trained on the street looking for a familiar black motorcycle that you miss the white car pulling up completely, yeosang getting out and walking around the hood as he races toward the house.

"hi changbin," he says, looking at the boy who gives him a nod before his eyes land on your glassy ones. "hey, you."

"oh-oh, my god, he forgot my name already," you whisper to changbin, "what an asshole!"

"i don't think he forgot your name," he assures with a smile, yeosang biting his lip to hide his own.

"i could never forget your name, y/n," he says teasingly, holding his hand out for you to grab.

you look at it with a smile before quickly taking it, intertwining your fingers and feeling your heart warm at the familiar sensation of his hand in yours. the whole time to his house, you complain that you really expected his arrival on the motorcycle.

"th-this car is fine, i guess," you say, "but a motorcycle is like sexy, you know. even though you're only a teenager. hey, are you-are you even old enough to ride a motorcycle? di-did you break the rules just so you can have a bad boy agenda?"

he snorts when he pulls up to his house, assuring you he had all the proper training and licensing to ride a motorcycle before guiding you carefully into his house. the seven boys are sprawled out on the couch, looking at your stumbling figure with a wary look but a smile nonetheless.

"i-i'm not stupid, i promise, you guys," you tell them, causing them to fall silent. "i-i think he actually likes me." only a few beats of silence pass before they burst out laughing, yeosang's cheeks warming because if anyone knows how much he likes you, it's them.

"i think you're right," mingi says, thinking back to how sulky and miserable the boy's been all week. "actually, i know you're right."

"really!" you squeal, clapping your hands together before you recongize his bright red hair. "hey! you're the one who was dancing to gasol-"

"okay, let's go, c'mon," yeosang says, ushering you into his room quickly because he knows just how fast a grind line could start if that song comes on in the presence of his friends.

he lays out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for you before he leaves to get you water, your eyes lighting up the second you see comfortable clothes and his bed. he comes back in a few minutes later to see your clothes in a ball, your body sprawled out on his bed.

"sooo comfy..." you hum, shutting your tired eyes and letting yourself melt into the warm comforter.

"y/n..." he says, placing the glass on his bedside table before sitting next to you. "i need to tell you how fucking sorry-"

"sh," you say, bringing your finger to his lips and pulling him down next to you. "we'll talk tomorrow, mmkay? i just want to sleep with you right now."

he roams over your sleepy face softly, your eyes shut and face relaxed as your head nods off side to side. you feel him place a kiss on your forehead, letting his lips linger before he pulls you under the covers and guides your head to his chest.

you're about to fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat when you hear his deep voice mutter, "i missed you, baby. i'm sorry."

the second your eyes open, there's a pain pounding in your head so severe you think you're about to die. you slowly sit up, wincing at the seering sensation that shoots through your temple before a hand carefully guides your back to sit up.

you jump at the feeling, turning your head frantically to the side before your face drops when you see yeosang. it takes a few seconds for the hazy memories to come back, all the meanwhile he's staring at you with such fear and sadness in his eyes.

because he thinks you're regretting all of this: calling him and coming home with him in the first place, giving him a second chance he probably doesn't deserve but is gonna make sure he proves worthy of. he knows that the next words you speak could potentially shatter him, make him cry and beg on the spot and completely show you just how whipped you really made him in three months.

but instead, you quietly get out "hi," and he thinks that's probably an okay start.

"how you feeling?" he asks, running his fingers through your hair.

"horrible," you blunty speak causing a small laugh to bubble out of his chest.

"you'll feel better after you eat. i'll make you something, okay?" he says gently, his hand moving from your hair to your cheek. "there's water right there."

you nod your head, gulping down the cold liquid before laying back down as he pads out of the bedroom. you don't know how long you fall back asleep for until yeosang comes back into his room, placing the plate on the bed before he gently stirs you awake.

"food, love," he mumbles lowly, causing your eyes to pop open. you let him feed you small bites of an omlette and gulp down another glass of water before you feel slightly human, curling back up into his bed in fetal position.

he rests his back on the headboard as he looks down at you, looking over your figure with such a soft, gentle look it causes your eyes to narrow. "what?"

he swallows the lump in his throat, his adams apple bobbing as he tries to gather himself.

"i'm sorry, y/n," he rushes out, "i-i've felt so shitty this past week and i don't deserve to have you hear me out but i swear to you, i swear i only had that stupid idea in my head for a second and then after our-"

"first date," you finish with closed eyes, "changbin told me about your conversation."

he's shocked and a little thrown off by the calmness in your tone, thinking and knowing he deserves to have his ass handed to him. "oh."

"i'm still mad at you," you tell him, "and you're gonna have a lot of making up to do."

"i know," he says, "believe me, i know, and i'm ready. more than ready."

"and we have to be honest from here on out about everything. like we always should've been."

he nods his head quickly, "i know, yes. i agree. i completely agree."

"okay," you say simply, wanting so bad to smile at the shocked look on his face. "then...i'll forgive you."

the look on his face causes your heart to soar, his lips pressing into one another as his eyes gloss over.

"unless you cry," you say, the teasing in your tone causing him to smile. "you're supposed to be a bad boy and bad boys don't cry."

his deep chuckle booms through his room as he shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him. "there's that bad boy, talk, again," he says, "do you remember calling me out on my, what was the phrase, bad boy agenda?"

you giggle against his chest as you nod your head, shutting your eyes contently as you snuggle against his warm chest. he tightens his hold around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head when you suddenly blurt out, "some bad boy you are, liking me after the first date," you tease playfully, "i didn't even like you until after the third."

#why did i make yungi dance to gasolina you ask?#i simply do not have an answer #yeosang #yeosang angst #yeosang fluff #yeosang smut #ateez #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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clockworkgraystairs · 4 years

Text

Christmas Dinner || Jurdan X-mas in July

AHHHH there is more Christmas!Jurdan!!!!!!!!! 🎄🎄

Rating: T

Summary: The Duarte's are hosting their Christmas dinner and Vivi sets a trap for Jude to bring his boyfriend and introduce him to the family.

I guess this can be considered a little prequel to You got me trippin?

This is also my first time posting somethin in 1st person sooo...let’s see how it goes lmao

Tags: @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003

[if you wish to be tagged/untagged or if I forgot to tag you pls let me know!]

A massive thank you to Becca @sweetlyvillainous for betaing this for me!! Love u 🧡

Masterlist Read on AO3

This is a terrible, terrible idea I keep repeating myself.

If I’d shown a little more steadiness with my sister I wouldn’t be in this situation. I knew she was nervous about presenting her girlfriend to the family, specially to our father. And because she is extra as hell, she couldn’t choose another date that wasn’t on Christmas Eve. For weeks now she’d been texting me, grumbling about how was she going to be able to pull it off. I told her to relax and just go with it.

What I didn’t expect though, was for Vivi to arrive out of nowhere to the school where I work, talking nonsense about me bringing a fake date to dinner with hopes of taking the attention away from her.

After spending 15 minutes trying to convince her it is not necessary for me to do that, her insistence is such I end up babbling how bad that idea is since I already have a boyfriend, and fake dating someone else would certainly create problems.

Big mistake.

Looking at me with something like betrayal in her eyes, now she starts questioning me about that boyfriend who I’d never talked about before. I bite my lip. When it comes to personal stuff I prefer to keep it private, even with my own family. I have my reasons.

And just because luck is not on my side today, in the middle of her inquiries I hear a faint “Hey, babe!” behind me. I groan. Of course. Of course he had to arrive in that moment.

We both turn to look at him. Cardan approaches us wearing that mischievous grin reserved only for me, so different from the polite smile he uses with his students. His hair is tied up in a bun as he also wears it for work, few curls escaping it in the most adorable way.

With a pang of panic, I notice Vivi noticing how dumbfounded I’m looking at him. Her eyes light up in a way that I know means nothing good. I frown at her.

“I was looking for you on the cafeteria, one of your students told me you were here.” He pauses. “I- didn’t notice you were busy though, sorry.”

“Not at all!” Vivi says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m Jude’s older sister, Vivi! You must be her lovely boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah I am. Nice to meet you!” If I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t notice the slight blush on his cheeks or the way he looks at me in contained alarm.

It’s too late by the time I put the pieces together. When I realize what is about to happen, my sister is already handing Cardan a rolled piece of paper.

“I came to make sure Jude invites you to our family Christmas dinner! She’s so absentminded sometimes isn’t she?”

I’m going to kill her. Slowly.

Horrified, I stand there and see Cardan take the invitation, grinning. His polite, charming smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” He says. “Thank you so much Vivi.”

My sister turns to me and whatever look it’s on my face makes her hesitate. Although, not enough. She claps her hands once and makes an excited squeal. “Well I must go now! But I’m so excited you’re coming to join us Cardan, see you there. Ciao!”

With that she turns and leaves.

So here we are. My boyfriend driving by my side, as we are about to arrive to my parent’s house.

My knee bounces without control as I twist my scarf between my fingers. At any moment now, I’m sure my heart is going to bolt out of my chest.

“Jude dear, is everything ok?” He asks. I notice I’ve been quiet almost the entire road.

I turn to look at him. He looks dashing, even if it’s not a strictly formal dinner he always finds a way to dress as it was. Black ensemble and green scarf that stands out his pale skin, though his nose and cheeks have a touch of color because of the cold weather.

“Yeah it’s just... My family is a little,” I pause. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

We are not the type of family that introduces romantic partners, ever. My twin sister tried to do it some years ago with a terrible and embarrassing outcome. At some point in the middle of breakfast, she’d asked her daddy to pass the salt. Both our father and Locke moved to grab it at the same time. What came next, well… if that Locke dude had restrained himself to make a sarcastic and really tacky comment about it, maybe he would still be welcome in the house. Alas, he is not.

Ever since that day, every time someone brings a guest to the house my father gets in a mood that is pretty uncomfortable for everyone. Sooner or later he makes everyone run. Not exactly the first impression I want Cardan to have.

We’ve been together for some time now, about eleven months. But the topic of introducing our families has never been on the table so far. I know he comes from a problematic family even if he doesn’t talk much about them. As for me, I have to admit I’ve grown so attached to him that I’m terrified of Madoc, or any other of my relatives, scaring him away.

He takes my hand in his, warming it, and smiles softly. “It’ll be ok. Breathe.”

I sigh, hoping he’s right and grip his hand tighter.

The inside of the house looks as if Santa’s bag had exploded. There are lights and ornaments everywhere. Even the tree is bigger than previous years. A delicious smell of food fills the place. As I stare in awe I hear voices coming from the living room.

“Jude? Is that you?” Hurried steps sound in the wooden floor and a few seconds later my little brother appears wearing an absurd red and white onesie. He crashes against me and I laugh, hugging him back.

“You do realize that’s for little kids don’t you?” I ask. “It looks good on you, though.”

Oak scoffs and pulls back. “Well of course it does. I look good on everything.”

Cardan chuckles next to me and for the first time my brother notices him. His eyes and mouth open widely, blinking at him and then turning back at me. Once. Twice.

“Jude,” He murmurs. It cracks me up how shy he can get around new people. “Who’s this?”

Ah, here we go. I take a deep breath and grab Cardan’s hand again.

“Don’t be rude,” I warn him. “His name is Cardan. Cardan, this is my brother Oak.”

Cardan greets him, extending his hand to him. Oak shakes it, visibly puzzled. “And Cardan is…?”

“My boyfriend.”

A slow, mocking and devilish smile spreads on his face. I swear to god that kid was taken out from the movie Cheaper by the Dozen. All the shyness is suddenly gone.

“You and Vivi are really trying to give dad a heart attack today aren’t you?” He turns to Cardan and adopts a serious expression I almost believe. “Please tell me Jude doesn’t call you daddy.”

“OAK!” I hiss. I look at Cardan and he gazes back with amusement, I notice he’s biting back a laugh.

“WHAT? I need to know earlier if I need to take my phone out, last time I didn’t have time to record when dad…” He motions with his hand. Yeah, I remember.

“She doesn’t.” Cardan affirms. Mimicking my brother’s mischievous smile he asks. “Is there a story there I need to know?”

Oak hesitates, even though I’m sure he’s dying to spill it out.

“Taryn would kill you.” I remind him.

“She’s not coming. For what I’ve heard, either it’s Locke’s turn to visit his family or something about dad running him under the car if he dared appearing. I’m not sure.”

Great.

“What if I beat you at Mario Kart?” Cardan asks, pointing at the console resting next to the tv.

Oak squints at him. “Are you challenging me?”

“It’s not a challenge when I know I’m going to win.”

Turning to me, my brother grins. “I like him.”

I know this is the first time I’ve brought someone home, but still I don’t know if I should be offended at my parent’s surprised faces. Oak had to tell my mother twice that Cardan is my boyfriend before she nods in understanding.

On his side, Cardan is being the full gentleman. To be fair he always is, but I notice the extra effort he’s doing today. It warms my heart. The only sign of nervousness I notice in him are occasional deep breaths he takes when he thinks no one is watching.

We get to meet Heather too, who is adorable and I honestly don’t know how on earth she fell in love with my lunatic sister. In a matter of minutes Cardan is already friends with her which helps with her evident tension. Vivi seems to relax as well.

Christmas music plays on the background as we eat. This is probably my favorite part of the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I love gatherings with my family but food calls me on a spiritual level. Cardan knows it too, chuckling at my excitement while I’m serving us mashed potatoes.

“So, Cardan.” My father starts, serving the wine. My heart leaps in my chest, oh no. “You met my daughter at work?”

He nods. “Yes sir, I arrived there about two years ago. I teach preschool and first grade.” Winking at me he adds. “Jude used to hate me.”

Madoc turns to me, frowning. “What happened?” I roll my eyes, classical worried dad.

I take a long drink from my wine and shrug. “Nothing, he stole the ‘best teacher award’ from me, on his first six months. I’m pretty sure he bribed the students that year.”

To my surprise, my father barks a laugh. We all stare at him wide-eyed.

“Keep repeating that to yourself, love.” Cardan teases. “It was a clean triumph.”

“You’ve always been competitive Jude, that’s no secret.” Vivi adds. “It’s nice to finally meet someone who can pull up with that.”

I turn to glare at her. You and I are going to talk later. She sticks out her tongue at me.

“Do you guys have sex?”

“Oak!” My mother shouts as my father and I both choke on our wine.

When Cardan parks the car outside my apartment it’s already past midnight.

Surprisingly, this turned out to be one of the best Christmas celebrations I’ve ever had. My boyfriend somehow managed to not only avoid any uncomfortable moments around my family but also to wrap them up around his little finger. With jokes and tales about us the night had passed incredibly fast.

Toasts were made, hugs and gifts were given. By the end, we were sprawled on the floor wearing silly sweaters and watching the merciless Mario Kart match between Oak and Cardan. It ended up in a tie. Rematch was already set for New Year’s Eve.

It was everything I never thought it would be.

“Well, did Vivi’s plan work?” Cardan asks.

I turn to find him already looking at me with a knowing smile on his face. Still, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“C’me on, you weren’t really planning on inviting me to your family’s dinner. Something was surely going on the day she gave me the invitation.”

Sighing I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He knows me too well, more than I even know myself sometimes.

“Don’t be, it’s not a topic we usually discuss.” He shrugs, reaching my hand with his. His thumb makes slow circles on my skin “Still, I should’ve asked if it was ok with you. Forgive me if I crossed a line.”

“You didn’t. I just wasn’t planning for you to meet my family yet.” I regret those words the moment they leave my mouth, knowing how they sound. Cardan doesn’t let go of my hand but he stops his ministrations. “Wait, that wasn’t…”

“Jude, it’s ok.” He says, turning to the windshield. I know him well enough too, and notice the touch of sadness behind his words.

“No it’s not. Please listen.” I insist, my heart is beating fast now. That look on his eyes is exactly what I tried to avoid the whole night. “The reason why I wasn’t thinking to introduce you to my family is that they’re ridiculously hard and annoying with every new person that visits. And this is the first time I took someone home and…I don’t know, I-”

“You thought I’d leave?” He turns his gaze back to me, warily.

At the beginning of the day I did. But I don’t find the words to admit it, so I don’t answer.

After a moment of silence he asks “Do you want to know why I agreed to go?”

I swallow and nod. Cardan inhales deeply..

“We’ve been together for some time now. And you know, you must know, I’m not playing around Jude.” I start to say something but he silences me with a soft finger against my lips. “I love you. If I agreed to whatever scheme your sister had in mind it was because I wanted to show you that I’m not going away. No matter what.”

“My family…”

“They love you. It’s only natural for them to ask what my intentions are… and maybe tease us about it too. I’m willing to admit your dad is a little scary. But not enough to make me run away.” He winks, cupping my face.“There is nothing on earth that would make me want to run away, Jude. That’s how much I love you.”

Feeling my eyes sting I blink. “I love you too.”

We’ve said those words before. But I find that they acquire a different meaning, somehow deeper. My chest is suddenly too small to hold everything I feel for this man. He’s not going anywhere. He loves me. I’m grinning like an idiot and I’m proud of it.

I lean to rest my forehead against his. “Since it’s our first Christmas together… and you already met my family.” His smile widens at that. “Would you like to stay the night?”

“There’s nothing I would like more.” Cardan angles his head to give me a kiss that I accept gladly, coiling my arms around his neck. “I usually spend Christmas alone, I guess it’s time for new traditions.”

We remain entwined for some minutes, it fastly turns into something hotter and desperate. I’m already straddling his hips when I pull back a few inches. I bet my lips are as swollen as his. He is looking at me with hunger… and love.

“How about a tradition in which we spend Christmas night undressed and watching some crappy Netflix movies?” I suggest.

My toes curl when he leans to bite my lobe and purrs. “Yes, please.”

#a very jurdan christmas in july #jurdannet christmas in july #jurdannet #jurdan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #holly black #tcp #twk #tqon #qon #judecardan #jude x cardan #the cruel prince #jurdan human au #vivi duarte #madoc #tess writes

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a-gorgeous-george · 3 years

Photo

Basic Questions

First name? Georgette

Surname? Foxworth

Middle names? Luciana

Nicknames? Gigi (by her mother)

Date of birth? August 7th

Age? 22

Physical / Appearance

Type of clothes?

Georgette’s style is all about femineity and luxury. She wears a lot of dresses, a lot of skirts, but even her workout clothes are designer. She swears “cheap” clothes give her a rash – and who would want to mar her perfect skin like that.

How do they wear their clothes? Tight and tailored.

What are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc)

Georgette is rarely seen without heels on, and thanks to regular pedicures and lack of abuse, her feet are soft and pretty always.

Race / Ethnicity? Spanish and Indonesian

Are they in good health? Oh yes, she has a strict workout schedule and diet she sticks to… well, actually, perhaps not, because alongside that she also lives a life of high stress and nicotine.

Personality

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

It really depends on the source of power in a situation. If it is something she has control over, she is optimistic, can’t see how something would ever not work out, but if someone else is in control, her view changes considerably and she is usually fairly certain it will fail.

Do they ever put on airs?

When is she not putting on airs?

What bad habits do they have? She has a serious nicotine problem.

What makes them laugh out loud?

She isn’t really a laugh out loud type of person. She might chuckle or smile in amusement, but laughing out loud indicates a level of ease that she just does not feel around people. Also Al.

How do they display affection?

She is very physically affectionate… I think. She has never been in a position where she felt comfortable being affectionate with a person in that way. Besides that, she shares her wealth in ways that benefit that people she cares about, shares her privilege with them. She is happy to be her friends’ sugar mama.

How do they want to be seen by others? Beautiful and in control.

How do they see themselves?

She very much sees herself as a lone wolf. She knows she’s beautiful, smart, capable, hardworking, but she’s alone and absolutely terrified someone will recognize it. She is also very much aware of her inner rage.

· How are they seen by others?

Because of her past with her family and the lack of ties it provided her, Georgette was left defending herself. Her arrogance and obsessive need to believe in her own importance is directly tied to the lack of importance anyone else gave her.

Strongest character trait?

For all her bravado and arrogance, Georgette is 100% unafraid of hard work. From her work on her blog and marketing it, her history as a beauty queen, her strict adherence to her diet and exercise routine, every aspect of her life, she has no issue knuckling down and putting in the time and effort to succeed.

Weakest character trait?

She is incapable of asking for help, as if it somehow undermines her own achievements if someone else must assist her.

How competitive are they?

Extremely. If you want to manipulate Georgette into doing something, make it a contest. She’ll probably even know what you’re doing and still be unable to resist.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?

Snap judgements all the way, baby!!

How do they react to praise?

Smug agreement.

How do they react to criticism?

Strong commitment to your character’s delusion that she is anything other than amazing.

What is their greatest fear?

Dying without ever achieving anything of substance.

What are their biggest secrets?

Georgette is crushingly lonely. Her whole life has been spent pushing people away, trying to protect herself and prove herself, full of anger, and it has left her without anyone she can be close to.

What will they stand up for?

Once her blog is up and running and successful, once the magazine starts to take off, she will have real issues with people saying she’s self-made. She is fully aware that even without her father’s money, her name alone carries a certain currency most people do not have. She is well aware of her own privilege in that area and will stand up against anyone who compares her achievements against someone who didn’t have that head start.

Who do they quote?

She’s a closet book nerd and might not quote directly but will frequently make allusions to literature.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? Indoorsy.

What is their sinful little habit? Cigarettes.

What sense do they most rely on?

Sight – how someone/something looks dictates more of her life than it should.

How do they treat people better than them?

What people better than them?

How do they treat people worse than them?

That seems like an unfair question when everyone is worse than them.

What quality do they most value in a friend? She wouldn’t know.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? Niceness.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

She would have people who cared about her.

What is their obsession? Herself?

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of?

Her mother and stepfather, father and stepmother, Jenny and Oliver (Yes, she considers Oliver as part of her family)

What is their perception of family?

When she was barely cognizant of life, her father had an affair, had a baby, split up her family, quickly destroying the idea in her head. It is an outdated concept made to make people feel like belong to a group, no loyalty or love.

Describe their best friend.

………. Let me get her just a friend first.

Ideal best friend?

Someone who understands her hustle. Someone she can see the inherent importance in. Someone that can still pull her out of her head and get her to have fun.

Describe their acquaintances.

She is jealous of the closeness of Dodger’s gang, watching as an outsider and wishing desperately to be a part of it all.

Do they have any pets?

She is a massive dog person! (Get it?) But yes, she has a little doggo, Valentina.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?

Awful? Spoiled? She was raised spoiled, but after her father’s betrayal, she sought to teach him a lesson. Even as a child, she would blackmail and torture him, threatening to reveal his dirty secret to the world. She was worse to Jenny even, more easily able to take out her anger over the affair and her birth on the younger girl than the truly guilty adults.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?

Neglected – but that is partly her own fault. She is as much at fault due to her reaction and actively hurting her family and her father. She lashed out and did truly awful things and crushed what bond there might have possibly been.

What is the most offensive thing they ever said?

Oh, I don’t know… in my head, I feel like she can be a very problematic person. Add that in with her natural meanness, I am sure she has said some awful stuff.

What was their first kiss like?

It was awful. Some other 7th grader when she was in 7th grade. Too wet. Thought he was trying to drown her.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?

Repeatedly blackmailing her father for her own benefit.

What are their ambitions?

She wants to outshine her father, claim their last name as her own and not the sullied version her father left in the wake of his controversy. That is why her blog and future magazine is named after her.

What advice would they give their younger self? It’s not Jenny’s fault.

What smells remind them of their childhood? Perfume and peppermints.

What was their childhood ambition?

Growing up, her mind stayed on the pageant world. Her ambitions usually stayed just one pageant ahead of her.

What is their best childhood memory?

She doesn’t know if it’s real or not, just this soft memory of her father grinning and spinning around the living room with her, dressed in his coat and tails.

What is their worst childhood memory?

Listening in from the hall as his father confessed everything to her mother, hearing her mother sobbing as he threw clothes into a suitcase.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?

The last one? She still hasn’t got over her first one.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?

She only barely believes in love in any form.

· How do they behave in a relationship?

Georgette really doesn’t do relationships, thanks to that whole “love isn’t real” thing. They usually last a month or so, but she gets bored and has no issue telling him to get lost after that point.

When did you character last have sex? Perhaps a couple weeks ago.

What sort of sex do they have?

She is looking for something hot, passionate, and with someone she doesn’t have to worry about calling back.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?

Georgette doesn’t back down from a threat, though her means for fighting usually involves $$$ instead of doing any sort of fighting herself.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? Tongue.

What is your character’s kryptonite? Point out her lack of backup.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? Say it with me… diamonds.

How do they perceive strangers?

Her trust or lack of trust in them is based solely on how they look.

What do they love to hate? Oh, that is way too long a list to put here.

What are their phobias? Bugs of any sort.

What is their choice of weapon? Poison.

What living person do they most despise? Her father.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? That would not go well for that person.

Where do they go when they’re angry? Home, to seethe and plot.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? Blogger.

What do they think about their current job?

She has dreams of something bigger, more substantial, but she’s thankful for the success the gossip blog has had and excited to grow it.

What are their hobbies? Painting, reading, dancing.

Educational background? Some college.

Intelligence level?

I believe she is fairly smart, but her work ethic covers a lot of distance for her.

Favorites

What is their favorite animal? Doggies.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? Her face in the mirror.

What is their favorite song? Ego by Beyonce

Music, art, reading preferred? Ooooooh… probably reading

What is their favorite color? Gold

What is their password?

Honestly it is probably a secure combination of letters put together by a professional.

Favorite food: Lasagna

What is their favorite work of art? Judith and the Head of Holofornes

Who is their favorite artist? Gustav Klimt

What is their favorite day of the week? Saturday

Possessions

What is in their fridge? A lot of water, veggies, meal prepped chicken

What is on their bedside table? The current book she is reading, a bouquet of pink and white roses, a gold lamp, a rose gold silk eye mask

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel?

If she has a guardian angel, she would really like a word with it.

Do they believe in the afterlife? I mean, she now knows Hades, so yeah

What are their religious views?

Once you meet a god, you kinda realize which system of beliefs is the right one

· How would they like to die? Painless and pretty

What is their zodiac sign? Leo

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? Abandonment

What is their view of ‘freedom’?

Able to make your way through life on your own two feet without having to rely on anyone else to support you.

When did they last lie? Probably an hour ago

What’s their view of lying? It definitely can make things easier.

When did they last make a promise?

She doesn’t really bother. You either do things or you don’t. The rest is just extra words.

Daily life

What are their eating habits? Healthy food prepared by a chef.

Describe their home.

Luxurious home in a gated community bought by her father.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? Minimalist.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? Drink a glass of cold water.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?

She can be found putting the finishing touches on her blog post for the week.

What do they do on a Friday night?

She can just as easily be found out dancing as home alone working.

What is the soft drink of choice? She doesn’t drink soda.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? Merlot.

Miscellaneous

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? Anything sexy.

Are they comfortable with technology? She can do basic things.

If they could save one person, who would it be? Jenny.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? Over her dead body.

What is their greatest extravagance? Jewelry

What is their perception of redemption? She hopes it’s real.

What would they do if they won the lottery? It would change her life 0%.

What is their favourite fairytale?

She isn’t really big on fairytales, but definitely prefers the darker original versions. So much more realistic than that happily ever after in love bullshit.

Do they believe in happy endings?

She believes in the ability of a person to make their own damn happy ending.

What is their idea of perfect happiness?

Surrounded by a family that loves her

If your character could travel through time, where would they go?

She has it on good authority that life gets more uncivilized the farther back you go, so she’s good, thanks.

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose?

Full on mind control. She’ll make you do what she wants and feel no guilt.

#watasks #{beauty for the beholder}

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saber-of-dreams · 4 years

Text

Dead as a Dodo (Birds of a Feather pt. 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

“Welcome home, Daughter.”

The heat washed over her first. And then the acrid, sulfuric smell. Raven didn’t bother to say anything. They’d played this exchange out many many times, and she was too tired to humor him. Besides, his over-pleasant tone told her everything she needed to know. Trigon was still imprisoned, and still trying to wheedle his way out.

Sometimes she thought she was being paranoid, for coming back to hell every single day. But then she looked up at the demon that had sired her and realized she probably wasn’t being cautious enough. Hadn’t Azerath been lesson enough for her? Weren’t her visions of that other life proof enough?

Raven opened another portal and returned to Earth.

The daughter of a demon seeking refuge in a church was the creme de la creme of ironies, in her book. But she had no where else to go. She’d considered trying to join the Titans, but she feared what would happen to them when the inevitable happened and her demonic father broke free.

She shouldn’t have approached Damian, either. But of all the memories she’d seen of that other life, it was the memories of him that had come with such powerful emotions. Respect on a level that was almost frightening. Trust so strong she was convinced even the literal end of the world couldn’t shatter it. And...love. Although, she had to admit to herself that the last one might just be her own wishful thinking. Probably her own unrequited feelings for him.

But she was an empath, and much as emotion for her were like trying to juggle chainsaws on a tightrope, she’d also spent the last who-even-knew-how-long in hell. She was emotionally starved. So when she’d sensed Damian’s familiar presence...he was the flame. She the moth.

Though, she had to admit even to herself, Damian’s brief flair of embarrassment and pure joy right after he’d offered her his hand was a positive sign. She sensed that he was probably just as drawn to her as she was to him. Perhaps they were both moths, then. Problematically, that made Trigon something like a metaphorical bug zapper. His coming would be the death of everything she’d ever cared about, and if her father learned that she had feelings for someone... She shied away from that thought.

If they could defeat her father though...she sighed.

Like Damian, she too had gaps in her memory. She remembered meeting him. Healing him after he’d provoked Blue Beetle in a stupid fight. But her last clear memory was of an encounter not long after that where he’d (sort of) thanked her for healing him, and then he’d mentioned seeing into her mind too, and the man he’d seen. Just recalling the memory made Raven shiver. Everything after that was a jumbled mixture of disconnected images and a riot of feelings that she had no context for.

Right now her sole hope was that she’d gained these memories early enough to prevent the end of the world. Surely now that she knew (mostly) what was coming she would be better able to stop it.

That night her dreams were fire and destruction and death. She woke in a cold sweat, to find she wasn’t alone.

“When I said I’d see you at 6, I meant pm.” She muttered.

Damian looked up from the copy of the bible he’d been scanning. “Oh I know. I had questions about why you ended up...here.” His eyes flickered over the bare room, the empty pews surrounding her.

“How did you know I was here?” She demanded groggily.

“I put a tracker on you, of course.”

Raven groaned and sat up. It was wwwayyy too early to be dealing with interruptions. She hadn’t even had...

Damian held out a plastic coffee cup. She wrinkled her nose, a refusal on her lips. Damian beat her to it. “It’s tea.”

“Oh.” She said.

“I remembered you wouldn’t drink much else. Hopefully it’s steeped long enough.”

She took the cup and took a tentative sip. It was a bit over-brewed, but she much preferred that problem to the opposite.

“So. How come you’re not living with the Titans. I noticed you dodged my question last night.” He kept his posture casual, his eyes on the page in front of him, but his interest in her answer rolled off of him in a wave.

She took a long, fortifying drink. Then she gave him the truth. “You know my father...what he is. I believe in that...other life...he escaped his prison, and that the destruction that he wrought is what brought the world to its knees. I think it will happen again. And when it does...I don’t want others to die fighting my battle.”

Damian scoffed. “Ridiculous.” He didn’t look at her. His eyes didn’t leave the page.

“What is?” She demanded.

“If you couldn’t defeat him with the help of the Titans and I would assume by extension the Justice League...you have no chance in hell on your own.” Damian snapped the book shut. “Besides. That isn’t the truth, is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“You aren’t staying away from them just because you fear for their safety. If that was the truth, you wouldn’t have even come to this world. But you are here, and you’re the one who reached out to me - “

“I shouldn’t have done that.” She admitted.

“Which means” he continued, ignoring her, “that you didn’t go to them because you were afraid of something else. I would guess you were afraid that they will remember more of this other life and that they’ll blame you for it.”

Raven looked away.

“Which,” Damian concluded, “as I said earlier, is ridiculous.”

Raven opened her mouth, but suddenly found herself incapable of forming words.

“No one can blame you for your parentage, Raven.”

“But they can blame me for the destruction of everything they hold dear. You don’t understand, Damian. This has been my destiny from the moment I was conceived.”

“Raven, the only person you’re destined to become is the person you decide to be.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Emerson? I had you pegged as a Thoreau kind of guy.”

Damian shrugged. “I like variety. Now stop deflecting. I know you’re afraid, but I swear I will be there every step of the way. And we can’t do this without the Titans.”

Raven looked at the stained glass windows on the opposite side of the church. The light that spilled onto the aisle was appropriately red. “I close my eyes and all I see is death. People I loved and innocents who were slaughtered for no damn reason at all. I caused the extinction of life on Azerath, Damian. I don’t think I can bear it here too.”

“Then we’ll just have to stop it.” He carefully placed the bible back into the holder in front of him and stood. “But before that, we’re going to go get breakfast, and then I’m going to see about getting you a room at my hotel.”

Raven stood up. “I can’t let you -”

“Do you honestly expect me to just let you live like this?” He asked, gesturing around them. “Really, Raven?”

She flushed. “It’s not your problem.”

“Your comfort and happiness is most certainly my problem. Now, let’s go. I saw a bakery a couple of blocks over with fresh-baked croissants.” He walked up the aisle, stopping about halfway to the door when he noticed she hadn’t followed.

Raven groaned, knowing a lost battle when she saw one.

To his credit, the croissants were delicious. And the tea was divine. But then he’d gone on to try to book her a suite the size of his own. She’d put her foot down, insisting that all she needed was a simple room with a single bed and a small bathroom in it. He’d equally insisted that she would be more comfortable in something with more amenities and space. Eventually the helpful (though bewildered) desk clerk had helped them find a compromise in a much smaller room with a large king-size bed and a massive bathroom.

He gave her a few blessed hours to take a scalding hot bath and rest in the comfort of her new room, saying he had other business to attend to. He knocked on her door at a few minutes to 6 pm.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Not particularly.” She muttered, shutting the door behind her.

She took him to an arcade that she remembered Garfield and Jaime being fond of. Damian looked around at all the flashing lights and loud noise and sighed. They knew that it was unlikely they’d find the Titans on their first go, so they knew that would probably have to come back a few days in a row. They played a few uninspired video games and then Damian demanded they go somewhere else.

The next place Raven remembered was a cafe that she knew Starfire liked to frequent for dinner dates with Dick Grayson. This was where she’d learned that Nightwing and Batman had been out of town. Starfire had come to pick up a to-go order. The clerk had asked her where her boyfriend was because he hadn’t seen him around for a while, and Starfire mentioned that he was on a business trip with his father for a few weeks. Raven translated that pretty easily.

But they struck out there too.

But fortune was with them, because as they were getting ready to call it quits for the night, they heard screams and loud explosions a few blocks over.

They exchanged a look and bolted for the source of the commotion. They ran opposite to the crowd, up a few blocks to the busiest part of the city. She was so focused on reaching her goal that she almost missed the ice. The entire city block was a sheet of it.

Raven gasped as she went sliding, grabbing onto a streetlamp to steady herself.

“Ugh.” She groaned. Farther up the street, Captain Cold was having a megalomaniac moment, covering every visible surface in sheets of ice.

She’d lost sight of Damian in the crowd, but she knew he was careful and could take care of himself. Right now her priority was to stop Cold.

Overhead a familiar green bird swooped into view, closely followed by a flying Beetle and Starfire. As they swooped in to neutralize Captain Cold, three other members of the criminal family appeared, engaging them.

Raven watched as Damian swept in, engaging Mr. Freeze while Beast Boy took on Killer Frost, Blue Beetle battled Icicle and Starfire went after Captain Cold. Raven joined her, teleporting just in time to throw up a shield and block a streak of Ice headed for Starfire’s head.

Starfire’s eyes widened when she saw her, but the alien princess’ attention was quickly claimed by their opponent. But between the two of them, they managed to subdue the ice villain. Behind her, Damian had already knocked Mr. Freeze out and Jaime had tied up Icicle. Beast Boy was wearing Killer Frost out. It wasn’t long before she too was subdued.

“Raven?” Starfire said.

Raven turned. “Hi, Starfire. Do you...do you remember me?”

Starfire smiled. “Yes. Yes...I thought it had all been dreams...”

“I think a lot of us are experiencing that lately.” She admitted.

A Tiger’s roar and Damian’s snarled curses shattered her brief moment of happiness. “Wait!” She cried, seeing Beast Boy and Blue Beetle starting to attack Damian.

“Stop!” Starfire commanded.

Reluctantly, the three teen boys looked up.

“He’s a member of the League of Assassins!” Beast Boy protested, pointing to Damian’s garb.

“Damian. Take off your hood.” Raven called.

Slowly, Damian did as she asked. Raven watched as the confusion and partial recognition distorted Beast Boy’s face as he tried to place the other. Jaime had clasped his head and fallen to his knees, groaning similiarly to how Damian had the day before.

“Damian...” Starfire said. She sounded relieved. Damian looked up, surprised. “You remember me?” He asked.

“Yes.” Starfire said, simply. “Though, I expected to see you dressed as Robin, not...as a member of the League of Assassins.”

“Who is Robin?” Damian asked.

“He...uh...doesn’t remember everything.” Raven explained. “We both have some pretty big gaps in our memories.”

“Yes, I feel holes in my own memories as well. Perhaps we should...compare notes?”

“That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Raven agreed.

Damian sheathed his sword, but watched Jaime and Garth warily.

“I suppose some things never change?” Starfire remarked, following her gaze. The animosity between the three was like a charged battery ready to explode. Raven doubted they’d do anything, but she was still frustrated by the machismo. She’d hoped that they’d be past the grandstanding at least.

“I guess not.” Raven said with a resigned sigh.

#damirae #demonbirds #damian x raven #raven #rachel roth #damian wayne #robin #dcau #dc #jld: apokolips war #jldarkapokolipswar

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 3 years

Text

Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26

Ask or comment to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or series. Full list is in my bio.

Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

#good omens #good omens headcanon #good omens fic #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #Aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #Ineffable Husbands

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