#i also know that my friend’s house is haunted. i’ve heard banging in the walls and she’s sent me a video of a deflated balloon moving around

[fingertipsmp3]

I can’t explain it but I do feel like there’s ghosts and supernatural stuff going on. Obviously I have no proof but I 100% believe it

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

“No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

[headoverhiddles]

Wrapped In Plastic - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: The new kid at school intrigues you. He’s infatuated too, but beneath that scary exterior, you’ve got no idea what’s in store. 

Notes: Era: Spooky Kids! Requested by anon: “High school Brian having a crush on you.”

There he is, sitting in front of the principal again. Brian Warner. You're surprised he hasn't been expelled yet, frankly, even though he just moved here to South Florida recently.

You watch from afar, sitting with your friends. He's making that face. That expression... or lack of expression. He doesn't give a fuck what he got in trouble for, and you, he and the principal know it.

"Hey. (y/n)," your best friend says, "What the hell? Are you listening?"

"Yeah," you mutter, glancing back into the office. God, he would probably fuck like an animal, taking you in some old haunted forest somewhere while spanking you and telling you you're his dirty little slut...

Your friend scoffs when she sees where you're looking.

"That guy is dangerous, quit fantasizing. That isn’t your picture perfect bad boy-- that’s like dating the next Son of Sam killer.”

Your other friend chimes in. “My sister told me she saw him and his pack of weirdos out lighting an abandoned house on fire. My sister’s friend said she hears him jerking off in the washroom every lunch hour. The whole school knows about it. Also apparently in creative writing, he turned in this story about this guy fucking his sister's corpse or something. Seriously weird, probably evil. He's gonna end up in jail, mark my words." You ignore your friend, but turn back into the conversation.

Eventually, the principal gives up, dismissing him. You see Brian join his friends outside the office door, who have been waiting-- Jeordie and Stephen, you think you've heard them called in class. The one with the brown comb-over is called Pogo outside of class, because of his fascination with serial killers. You think it's funny. Those guys just do whatever they want. 

Your breath hitches. Brian tucks his long black hair behind his ear, looking up and grinning at his friends. He's describing what he did, and he looks like a gleeful child who just got away with murder as the other two bust out laughing and dig for details. How could anyone think he's evil? 

Cold chills run through your body as he meets your eyes. Oh, fuck. He smirks a little bit your way, but you quickly look away. His features harden, and he turns back to his friends. You turn back to yours.

You can't help watching after him as he walks down the hall to fourth period, though... his head nearly reaches the ceiling, and that metal Planet Of The Apes lunchbox makes you smile. You've heard him make a threat or two to beat someone's ass with it, and you believe he'd do it. For every bully who promised him he'd be nothing, there's something about him that promised so much more.

--

The bell goes, and Brian sits down at the desk. 

"She was looking at you." 

"Yeah, she was talking to her friends about me," Brian mutters back.

"She looked like she was wetting her panties over you," Jeordie grins, "She looks like she wanted to suck your dick right there in front of Mr. Ogilvie!"

"That'd be the day," Brian sighs. 

"Yeah, you'd have beat off material forever," Pogo laughs.

"But she wasn't," he said, "You guys are just fucking blind."

"I don't know, I got some blow job vibes from her,” Pogo says. 

“You get blow job vibes from everyone.” 

“I’ll blow you for lunch money,” Jeordie mentions. Pogo shrugs. 

“I might take you up on that.” His obnoxious laughter rings out as you walk by the door. You recognize it immediately, and look back. Brian’s sitting there, knees tucked under the desk like his legs won’t fit. Shit. In your experience, being this preoccupied with someone meant you were into them... or at least, wanted to see more of them. 

Brian looks up again, and sees you staring at him. This time, he frowns. You’re drawn away by your friend, who pulls you toward your next class. As you're walking, someone calls your name.

“Hey! (y/n), right?” 

You turn as your friend keeps walking ahead. You scoff slightly as he approaches. “Like you don’t know my name.” You pause, backtrack. “I- sorry. That was mean."

“That’s okay. I’ve been known to be a little mean too,” he smirks, and he flips his hair out if his face. “I guess when you hang around a bunch of catty bitches all the time, it rubs off on you.” His voice is so deep and calm. It throws you off whenever he speaks, but does other things to you as well.

"Hanging out with a pair of delinquents can do the same." Your eyes dart inside the classroom to his friends, who are carving something into a desk. He gives a small smile.

"Touché."

“Speaking of rubbing off,” you raise an eyebrow, “Did you want to talk to me?”

He blushes, then forces his embarrassment away. “That rumor’s not true.”

“No?”

“Nah. I did light that abandoned house on fire though.” He grins, and you do as well, hugging your books closer to your chest. 

“So. You’re a rebel, huh?”

“If not putting up with everybody’s bullshit counts as rebelling, then yeah. I guess so.”

“I can respect that,” you nod. “I feel the same way... but I’m not as fearless as you.”

“Are you saying you might commit arson with me, (y/n)?” 

“Maybe. How did the conversation progress to lighting things on fire with you?” 

He laughs, ducks his head nervously. “Well. Um, I saw you staring like a creep, and... I was wondering if you wanted to be creeps together. Y’know... hang out sometime? Come see my band, or...?”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah, I am.”

You smile, poking his black shirt that read Christianity is Unnatural, Abnormal, and Perverse. “You’ve got balls, Brian.” You look at the clock, and back to his class. “What do you say we fuck off for the rest of the day?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You wanna skip class today?”

“Sorry,” you walk your fingers up his chest. “I know I’m not quite at your level of rebellion yet, but it’s a start.” 

He laughs as he follows you to your locker. 

---

“So. Do you have a car?”

“No.” He scratches his head. “We can walk back to my house, though. My parents aren’t home.” 

Following that plan, you make it back to his house. For someone hailed as the Antichrist of the school, he's got a relatively normal looking home, white picket fence and everything. All that changes once you get to his room.

"Wow," you say, looking up at everything. He's got serial killer-like writing scrawled on the wall by his bed, lyrics that seem like they're straight out of a porno or a horror film, or both. There are pentagrams drawn on his bed posts, and posters of bands like Nine Inch Nails, Ozzy Osbourne, KISS on his walls.

"I know it's stupid, but I'd give anything to meet those guys," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's not stupid," you say, examining the edges of the posters, freyed from the move no doubt. "I actually think it's awesome. I love Ozzy."

"One day I'm gonna beat his record for most drugs consumed over a lifetime."

"Have you started practicing?" you tease.

"I... well, I haven't had the chance."

"Right. Let me know when you do." You smile, going over to sit on his bed. He looks down at you, seems to have a mini panic attack, then acts cool with it, playing with his lip ring and sitting beside you. You look around the messy floor. He's got a strange mix of stuff that oddly seems to perfectly fit his personality: leaking boxes of black hair dye, various lipsticks and nail polishes, a bag of weed, books on the rise of fascism and Carl Jung's red book, an antique-looking switchblade, a Willy Wonka hat, condoms with little angry faces drawn on them, an old deflated football with "FIGHT" written on it, and... "What's that?" you ask, leaning down. Brian coughs.

"Oh. Yearbook from last year."

You pick it up, looking at all the little drawings of candy, needles, Charles Manson and other doodles he's defaced the book with. "But you didn't go to this school last year."

"I traded my mom's diet pills for it."

"Huh. Hustling already. Must have been some good stuff." You hesitate. The page was open to the photos of you as the lead in the play last year. You smirk, pretending to squint. "Is that a cum stain I see on my face?"

"You wish," he huffs, but he's blushing, hair curtaining around his face. You give him a look, turning fully toward him.

"Why'd you really invite me over?"

"To tell you I hate you, knock you out, and bury you in my backyard." You laugh.

"I mean, if you think about it..."

"It's the perfect plan. Invite the girl you've got a crush on over, assume she's gonna make fun of you, lure her in, then get your revenge." You smile, laying back on his bed.

"You just admitted to having a crush on me."

"Wasn't it obvious?" he asks. "I only ever threaten to kill the people I really wanna fuck."

"And do you really wanna fuck me, Bri?" you ask coyly, crawling dangerously close to him. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his long, graceful throat. "You wanna fuck me right here, right now, while your parents aren't home, make me scream your name while you blare your favorite metal record and act like things'll never change?"

"That sounds good," he groans. His hands wander up your thigh, and you smile, bouncing on his leg. "...I also wanna share my music with you. Read a book over your shoulder. Maybe pop a few pills, key someone's car, grab a milkshake and look at the stars on Special K so we feel like we're floating, you know. Before I bang the shit out of you. Date stuff."

"Is this not our first date?" you ask. His tongue flicks up over his lip ring again. 

"I guess you could say it is."

"Good. Cause I never fuck on a first date," you say, "Or so I tell people." He clenches his jaw, and braces a skinny arm beside your head, leaning down to capture your lips. His lips taste sweet, like mint and those sugary rocket candies. He takes his shirt off, and you rub your hands down, feeling a few scars. He lets out a whimpered noise at your touch, shuddering a little. 

You make out and grind against one another for a few minutes, your hands pulling his hips closer by his black belt loops and his fingers tangling your hair. Your breath gets faster as he grinds harder, more desperately, and you reach a hand down to help him out, give him something to rut against.

"You feel so big," you moan, and he runs a hand through his hair, lips falling open.

"I'm gonna..." He makes another desperate noise, and you feel it right where you need him. But since all his condoms in here seem to be used or have faces drawn on them in scented marker, you opt for over the clothes stuff only.

"Use your fingers?" you breathe. He looks like he's about to cum, and you know it'll tip you over as well, what with all the times you had thought of him like this.

He reaches into your jeans, unzipping them, and messily finds your clit. For a teenage guy, he's not bad. He starts to rub, then reaches three fingers down to thrust them into you.

"Fuck, Bri! Three?!" you breathe. He looks into your eyes, not stopping.

"I thought girls were whores for that kind of thing!"

"It's..." you moan, "That's... oh... y-yeah... Jesus...” He really start to work them in, watching your reactions while rutting his clothed erection against your leg. "Fuck, Brian, grab my tits... yeah... this is just how I imagined it when I..."

He freezes for a second, and his whole body convulses. He gasps, and you see him reach down to cover his crotch, face going beet red. He doesn't stop, though. He keeps fingering you, and now that he's not worried about grinding, he can explore you in other ways. He attaches his lips to your neck, and sucks a hickie right below your ear. 

“Brian... Bri, make me c--” 

"Cum for me, you filthy little slut," he snarls, and you arch your back up, grinding down into his fingers as your orgasm hits. You rock through it, and he kisses you again, sloppy and hot. When he pulls away, he gives you your fingers to lick clean, which you do through a heated stare.

Things calm down into you laying back against his pillows with his stringy body tucked in a cramped position beside you. "I didn't know you were that..." you search for words. "Experienced?" 

"What, you thought I was a virgin?” 

You giggle. “I didn’t know what to think about you, to be honest. Kinky, inexperienced, I had no idea. Of course, I hoped that you were kinky.”

“I’ve been known to use restraints when asked,” he smirks.

“I’ve got that to look forward to. I thought you were cute too, though. I don’t care if you’re some devil worshipper who parents and teachers everywhere shiver at the thought of." He's quiet for a second.

"I thought you were scared of me." 

"That too, a little bit. But what scares me turns me on." He rolls over to face you, a vulnerable position for him, you can tell. 

"The way I dress is what I perceive to be beautiful. Looking like this, doing what I want to, it keeps the assholes who like to give my face their own version of plastic surgery away if they think I'm a Satanist who's gonna... cut off their mom's head or something if they fuck with me. Makes the hypocrites who call themselves teachers question their morals too, ‘teaching’ someone like me to be a good little boy and follow society’s rules. It’s all brainwashing, everything they feed us with their sugar and shit, and I’m the bad guy for standing up to it." 

You stroke hair out of his face, and he looks up at you, lips pursed. "There’s always gotta be a scapegoat. I guess you fit that role.” You look beyond him. “You think it would ruin your image if those bullies found your poetry books?” He smiles. 

“Nah. One day, I’m gonna grow up to be a big rock and roll star. I’ll use my own poetry and turn it into music, and I’ll look ten times more extreme than I do now. Then they can all say they knew me, and I’ll tell them to go to hell.” 

You snuggle into him. "Mmm. Speaking of extreme... we should pull a Sandy and Danny. I'll come to school dressed all goth and shit Monday. Throw my friends for a loop."

"Does that mean I have to dress like a cheerleader?" he asks.

"You've got the ass for it."

He grins. "Stop it, you're making it very hard for me not to wanna fuck you for real right now."

"Here's the deal," you say, "I'll show you where I live this weekend. You tell me what your favorite fruit is, because that's a soul searching question. At that point we'll know each other better... and I'll be fair game."

He bites his lip. "I feel like I've known you forever."

"Yeah. Me too."

Just then, there's a knock at the bedroom door. Startled, you sit up quickly, and who you can only assume to be Brian's mom pops her head in. "When the fuck did you two get home?!" Brian blurts.

"About five minutes ago, honey. Don't worry, we didn't hear anything. Jeordie called, said he 'left the smoke bomb under the urinals.' I hope you aren't getting up to trouble like the last school, your father had a heck of a time getting you into this one.”

“Mom.”

“He had to switch jobs too, and with his back, you know how difficult long drives can be. Oh, how rude of me-- hello sweetie, you can call me Barb."

"Mom--" 

"Brian, is this the sweet thing you had that dream about the other night?"

"MOM!"

“Hugh, Brian’s got a girlfriend over, we should turn the TV up to give them a little privacy.” 

“GIRLFRIEND?!” a voice calls up, “GOOD ON YA, SON. THAT’S MY BOY!” 

“Jesus fucking Christ...” Brian groans, burying his face in a pillow. You laugh so hard into his chest you nearly tumble off his bed. Most dangerous guy in school, your ass.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (2)

masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, sex, PTSD

I’m really proud of this chapter. It’s some of my best work, maybe ever. Also, in case you missed, this fic will be updated every Sunday, so check back in next weekend for chapter three! 

*****

“So,” Riley began as she dropped her arm-load of overflowing paper grocery bags on her slate gray granite kitchen counter. Mercifully, the feds hadn’t connected Riley to any of her aliases after her arrest, so her overpriced Santa Monica penthouse apartment was exactly as she left it. 

Well, not exactly the same. After Riley’s arrest, Nikki had thrown out all her food and hung up the laundry Riley had left in a pile on her bedroom floor. She’d also paid Riley’s bills, which led to a whole argument in the grocery store that Riley knew they’d be rehashing later. 

“If Leanna’s out, then we need a new member,” Riley said. “Otherwise we’ll have to rename the team ‘Four Eyes,’ and I’m not about to do that.” 

Nikki snickered, haphazardly unloading groceries into the fridge. “Why not? You’re a nerd. It’s fitting.” 

“Bold words for the only one of us who wears glasses.” 

“They’re blue light glasses, you asshole. My vision is just fine.” 

Riley gave her a shit-eating grin. Whatever you say. 

Putting the groceries away took forever; Riley bought way more food than any one person needed. She couldn’t wipe Nikki’s disapproving face from her mind—the one that accompanied comments about Riley being too skinny. Nikki was just looking out for her, she knew, but that didn’t make Riley hate the scrutiny any less. 

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, Riley asked, “Do you have anyone in mind?” To replace Leanna, she didn’t need to say. Nikki chewed her lower lip nervously. “Who is it, Nik?” 

“It’s a long shot, but this girl I work with. Jill Morgan.” 

Riley frowned. “We don’t need a third techie.” 

“She’s not that.” Riley raised an eyebrow. “I mean, she is, but Jill is nothing compared to you or me,” Nikki quickly corrected. “Before she got the IT job, Jill worked for LAPD as a forensic analyst.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“Apparently she is one of the best in all of SoCal, but LAPD fired her after someone caught her using evidence from a closed case to conduct research for the crime novel she’s writing. No police department would touch her after that, so she managed to swing the IT job in the most bullshit interview I’ve ever sat in on.” Nikki crossed her arms. “Jill obviously didn’t know how to do half the things she said she did, but she managed to convince our boss otherwise.” 

“And let me guess.” Riley leaned on the counter. “You were so impressed with her ability to lie that you took her under your wing and taught her everything you know.” 

Nikki grimaced. “Yeah.” 

Barely stifling a snort, Riley said, “You never could resist a liar.” A low blow, considering the fate of her most recent relationship, but Nikki laughed it off. 

“Want to meet her?” 

Riley wasn’t sure this Jill girl would fill Leanna’s shoes, but if Nikki thought she had potential, then Riley had to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least. 

“Sure. I just have something I need to do first.” 

*****

To his credit, the man standing before her wasn’t a coward, but Riley didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice or the way he flinched every time she moved. He was short—she had a couple inches on him in her high-heeled boots—and dressed like a Hollywood film industry wannabe. Judging by the film equipment stashed in the adjacent living room, he was one. 

“Remind me of your name again,” Riley purred, leaning against the kitchen counter. Cleaning non-existent dirt from under her nails with a butcher knife, she looked like a female James Bond villain, with her sleek high-ponytail and dressed in black leather leggings and a tight, black tank top. 

The man had been busy cooking dinner when she’d broken into the house, and Riley delighted in the way he cowered against the sink, brandishing a vegetable peeler as if he thought he could actually land a hit on her. 

The old Riley would’ve worried about the man trying to attack her in some shoddy attempt at self-defense. The new Riley simply gave him an icy, feline smile to remind him of his place. 

Maybe prison had been good for something after all. 

She kept toying with the man, knowing full well what his name was. “Brian?” she mused. “Boxer?” 

“Bozer,” the man said through gritted teeth. He had a white-knuckled grip on the sink’s edge, and Riley did her best not to sneer at the alcohol label stickers covering the stainless steel—perhaps the only decor choice trashier than the empty bottles lining the windowsill like a frat house. How Leanna could stand to date a man whose house looked like he majored in partying was beyond Riley. She certainly wouldn’t. 

“Right,” she said. 

Riley hadn’t expected Leanna to still live in LA after remaking her identity, and she was correct. According to her classified CIA file, Leanna had a nice apartment in Virginia, with a short twenty minute commute to Langley every day. Imagine Riley’s surprise when the file also disclosed Leanna had a long-distance boyfriend, right here in LA. 

What Riley still didn’t understand was how a millennial could afford a house in the Hollywood Hills, but that was beside the point. 

A little more digging through the CIA’s heavily encrypted files revealed orders sending Leanna to the City of Angels for two weeks to assist another agency. The orders failed to mention which one. 

So, Riley waited for her friend, terrifying her clueless boyfriend to pass the time. 

“What are you making?” 

Bozer glared at her, pressing his full lips together. He was attractive enough, although he wasn’t Riley’s type. He seemed a little too domestic for her taste. 

She chastised, “There’s no need to look at me like that, Bozer. I don’t bite.” 

“Says the woman holding a freshly-sharpened knife.” 

Riley examined the blade, gently brushing her thumb over it to confirm Bozer’s statement. “A sharp knife is a good thing, actually. Sharp knives make clean cuts.” Bozer’s throat bobbed under the intensity of her gaze. “It’s the dull ones you have to worry about.” 

Before she could torment him any more, Riley heard the unmistakable sound of tumblers rolling over and the front door opening. A familiar voice called out, “Baby, I’m home!” Riley set the knife down and turned to greet her friend. 

She noticed the physical changes immediately. Leanna’s hair was a lighter shade of brown than before. She had bangs now. Her posture was stiffer, more uptight, and Riley could just see hints of well-defined muscle beneath her friend’s navy pantsuit. 

Upon seeing Riley, Leanna stopped dead in her tracks, eyes blown wide in surprise. “What are you doing here?” It sounded more like a threat than a question. 

“No ‘Hi’? ‘How are you?’ ‘I missed you’?” Riley placed her hand on her chest in mock offense. 

“You—” Leanna started. Her eyes flicked to her boyfriend, then back to Riley. He doesn’t know anything, the look said. “Let’s talk outside.” Without another word, Leanna gripped Riley’s elbow and led her through the back door. 

The balmy night air smelled like jasmine and rotted oranges, and crickets harmonized above the distant hum of freeway traffic. Instead of having a backyard, a multi-level wooden deck spanned the entire backside of the house. Beyond the deck lay a wall of bushes and a sweeping view of downtown. Again, Riley thought there was no way a millennial could afford a house like this. Unless...was there more to Leanna’s boyfriend than met the eye? 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Leanna said, leaning on the railing. Riley tried to catch her gaze to no avail. Leanna’s eyes were firmly on the city lights to the south. “Bozer is a normal guy. Harmless. The house belongs to his roommate, and the mortgage was paid off long ago when his roommate’s grandpa lived in it.” 

The lingering hope that Leanna might not be as clean as Nikki suggested dwindled by the minute. Riley gave up on trying to meet her eye. 

“How long have you been out?” 

“Two days.” 

“That’s...good.” 

Riley hated how awkward this was. Once, Leanna had been her closest confidant. Now she couldn’t feel farther away. 

“Did you enjoy terrorizing my boyfriend?” Leanna asked, mercifully lightening the mood. A small smile curved Riley’s lips. 

“I started cleaning my nails with a knife so I’d look more intimidating, and he nearly shit his pants.” 

Genuine laughter bubbled from Leanna’s throat. It was infectious, and within seconds Riley giggled too. It was almost enough to make her forget why she was here in the first place. 

Almost. 

Riley decided to just bite the bullet and get it over with. She spoke in a low, tentative voice. “Why’d you leave, Leanna?” Riley watched Leanna’s chest expand and collapse as she sighed deeply. She waited, giving Leanna time to think through her answer. 

After a long pause, her friend finally said, “You, actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Watching that was one of the worst moments of my life.” Leanna kept her wording vague, in case her boyfriend was listening, but Riley didn’t need to ask what the ‘that’ referred to. That haunted Riley’s every waking moment for the last two years. “I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. Not when that was the cost.” 

Riley furrowed her brow, not quite believing. “And yet your current job is better?” 

Leanna laughed bitterly. “You got me there.” She ducked her head. “In all honesty though, it is different. I’m not close to my coworkers like I was to you.” 

Was. Past tense. Riley frowned at the implications of that. 

“You could come back, you know.” 

Leanna scoffed. “Let me guess, Nikki found someone to replace me because you cooked up a new job, and now you’re here to drag me back just so you don’t have to deal with a weak link. Sound about right?” Riley pressed her lips into a thin line, refusing to dignify that with a response. “I’m done with that part of my life, Riley. And you should be too.” 

“Agree to disagree.” Just like that, the last flickering bit of hope inside Riley was extinguished. “It was nice to see you again, Leanna,” she said softly. “I’ll show myself out.” 

She made it as far as the stairs leading down into the house when Leanna called out, “Where?” 

Riley offered her friend a sad smile. “Paris. Just like we always talked about.”

*****

The next day, Riley met Nikki and their new recruit for lunch at one of the sketchiest taco shops LA had to offer. They were already there when Riley arrived, standing in line to order and looking incredibly out of place in their nice business clothes. Nikki and the new girl were about the same height, and both wore their blonde hair in loose waves, but the new girl had wider hips and her shoulders caved in slightly, as if she were trying to make herself smaller. 

Riley silently walked up behind them, grinning. “How’s it going?” The new girl jumped, glasses sliding down her nose. Nikki smirked, unfazed. 

In fact, she didn’t even bother taking her eyes off the ridiculously extensive menu as she chastised, “Play nice, Riles.” 

Even though Nikki couldn’t see her, Riley rolled her eyes anyway. “You’re no fun.” 

The new girl watched Riley with apprehension. Jill. Her name was Jill. 

Riley extended a hand. “I’m Riley.” 

“Jill,” she squeaked. Her grip was feather-light as they shook hands. She’s shy, Riley noted. Shy wasn’t a good trait in a criminal. 

Neither was jumping to conclusions, however. Riley had promised to give Jill a fair shot, and that meant taking time to get to know her. 

Riley let the blondes go first before ordering a California burrito for herself. There were only two booths—every good taco place was the size of a broom closet, after all—and Nikki led them to the one further from the entrance. She and Jill sat on one side, while Riley slid into the other, her back to the door. Riley couldn’t remember a time she and Nikki didn’t do that—sitting on opposite sides of the table, one facing each exit, just in case. 

She doubted anyone would come after them in a dingy taco shop, but slipping into old habits brought a calming sense of normalcy Riley loathed to admit she needed. 

“So,” Riley addressed Jill directly. “Did Nikki fill you in on what we do?” 

“A bit, yes.” Jill’s eyes flicked around the room warily. Riley wished Leanna or Cage were there to psychoanalyze her. Jill was clearly nervous, but she didn’t seem afraid. Confidence Riley could teach. What Jill needed to prove was that she could hold her own against some of the biggest egos in the Western Hemisphere. 

Present company definitely included. 

“Good,” Riley said. “I want to be very clear on something. We are not Robin Hood. We do it for the adrenaline and the money.” Riley’s gaze flicked to the thousand-dollar watch on Nikki’s left wrist. “Although, none of us need the money anymore.” 

“Then why don’t you get your adrenaline fix somewhere else?” Jill questioned bravely. “Maybe pick up skydiving.” There it was—the spark Riley was looking for. 

“We all have our own deeper, more personal reasons. But me?” Riley leaned closer. “I do it just to see if I can.” 

“One day, you’re going to be caught. You know that right?” 

Riley’s stomach dropped. It seemed Nikki had left out some key information. Riley forced herself to grin as she said, “Maybe, but that day isn’t today.” The cashier called out their order number, and Riley retrieved their food before launching into her interrogation. “What I need to know now is what you can do for me.” She consumed her burrito in classless, ravenous bites, uncaring what Jill thought of her table manners. Each bite tasted like heaven. 

Jill’s eyebrow twitched, that spark flaring up again. “How would you like to never leave a fingerprint ever again?” She casually bit into her taco. 

“And how would I do that?” Riley probed. Nikki’s attention flicked between the two, observing, listening. 

Not even bothering to swallow her food first, Jill said, “I’ve met plenty of your type before—” Riley took note of her careful use of innuendo— “and I’m not dumb enough to give away that kind of information for free. If you want it that badly, you’ll pay me.” 

Riley pocketed that key detail for later. “Out of curiosity, what would you use the money for?” 

“Paying off my student loans.” 

Riley nodded. She’d never gone to college, but she had the utmost respect for anyone who drowned themselves in debt for the sake of an education. In addition to that, Jill was smart, not easily swindled, and responsible—all traits Riley was looking for. 

The bell tied to the restaurant door jingled when it opened, letting in a hot gust of summer air. Two men entered; one was about Riley’s age, with blonde surfer hair. The other was older—fifty maybe—and he scanned the room the same way she’d seen Desi do a million times, but it was the blonde one Riley focused on as he froze, eyes locking on the women. 

More specifically, on Nikki. 

“Time to go,” Nikki warned. She shoved Jill out of her seat and dragged her toward the back door. In their haste, Nikki and Jill left their remaining tacos on the table, but Riley clutched her half-eaten burrito as she ran after them. 

For the moment, Riley didn’t care who these men were. All she cared about was getting them off her tail. 

She paid no mind to the cook shouting as she hauled ass through the kitchen. Riley spied an apron hanging off a doorknob, and an idea clicked into place. She grabbed it, turned on the gas stove, and held the fabric in the flames until it ignited. The blonde man skidded around the corner. Riley threw the flaming apron, and her feet carried her away before it even hit him. 

Nikki and Jill were already out the back door and waiting in the alley when Riley caught up. 

“You two didn’t happen to drive here, did you?” Nikki and Jill shook their heads. 

Jill asked, “Did you?” 

Riley shot Nikki a glare that could’ve curdled milk. “I would’ve, if someone hadn’t put my car in storage and then been too lazy to get it back. But noooooooooo, I had to take an Uber.” 

“Shut up,” Nikki growled at the same time Jill questioned, “Storage?” 

Ignoring Jill’s glaring lack of information, Riley grimaced. “Then I guess we’re running.” She took off down the alley, Nikki and Jill at her heels. Over her shoulder, Riley said, “I really hope I’m wrong here, but was that who I think it was?” 

Nikki groaned. “Unfortunately.” 

“Is someone going to fill me in?” 

“My ex.” 

“Oh.” 

Before they even reached the main street, both Riley and Nikki had broken a sweat, but Jill kept pace alongside them like it was nothing—wearing stilettos, no less. 

Perhaps Riley had underestimated Jill. 

Shouting erupted behind them. The men were closing the distance between them, despite the blonde one being too busy fiddling with something in his hands to watch where he was going. The three women ran faster. 

“What the hell is he doing?” Riley hissed. 

“You know how we hack computers? He hacks everything else.” 

A bullet pinged off the alley wall. “Perfect.” 

The main street wasn’t as crowded as Riley had hoped. There was far too little coverage to hide from...whatever these men were. Nikki had some explaining to do when they got home. 

They ran one block before another alley divided the storefronts. First glancing over her shoulder to ensure the men hadn’t turned the corner on the main road yet, Riley pulled her companions into the alley. It was empty aside from a large, faded black dumpster. Riley’s stomach churned at what she was about to suggest, but now was not the time to be picky about solutions. 

“In the dumpster,” she ordered. “Now.” 

Nikki and Jill made pained faces, but neither argued. They tossed Jill in first, then Riley gave Nikki a boost. Yanking her phone from her back pocket, Riley quickly opened a FaceTime call with Nikki and hid her phone beneath the dumpster before climbing inside and closing the lid over their heads. 

The women waited in silence. 

The smell was nauseating, and trash bags squished under Riley’s combat boots. Her boots were going directly in the trash when she got home, favorite pair be damned. She might very well toss her cutoff jean shorts and tank top too. Any article of clothing that touched garbage fluid was not going on her body ever again. 

Nikki dutifully studied their makeshift security camera feed. The dumpster muffled outside sounds too much for Riley to listen for the heavy footsteps of their pursuers. Jill mercifully knew to refrain from making any sort of noise. At least she won’t get us killed, Riley thought. 

When Nikki finally signaled that the coast was clear, Riley breathed a deep sigh of relief she immediately regretted. Gagging, she desperately shoved the dumpster lid open and clawed her way to fresh air, doing her best not to vomit. She’d already sacrificed the uneaten half of her burrito to the dumpster. Riley wasn’t about to give up the half she’d already swallowed too. 

Nikki wasn’t so lucky. 

Jill held back her coworker’s hair, rubbing her back in smooth circles. She didn’t seem affected by the smell at all. When she noticed Riley starting, Jill explained, “I’ve dug through dumpsters filled with half-decomposed bodies. A plain old trash dumpster is nothing.” 

Riley could only nod and offer her a queasy half-smile. 

Retrieving her phone, she called Desi and begged the woman to pick them up, conveniently leaving out the part about the dumpster. When she was done, Riley turned to Jill. “I want you on my team. Take the rest of the day off from work and think about my offer. There’s a team meeting at my apartment tonight. If you’re in, have Nikki pick you up on her way. The choice is yours.”

[mochiyoonfi]

Our Utopia

Synopsis: Y/n is an Idol Trainee under the same company as her big brother- Kim Namjoon. But there’s more to her than her angelic voice.

Universe: idol!bts, idol!reader, reader is Namjoon's sister.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drug abuse/addiction, mentions of suicidal thoughts, depression, abuse, sexual assault, violence.

A/N: This is a request! Requested by @deereadeer​ Sorry this took so long!

~ (reader discretion is recommended) ~

Betraying the darkest parts of your heart to strangers was definitely something you wouldn’t recommend. Heart in your throat, you looked across at the judges. The founder of the company had his eyebrow raised, as if asking if you were going to do anything.

Taking a deep breath, you summoned every ounce of your courage and opened your mouth.

As you begin to sing, you feel everyone’s eyes fixed on you. You don’t pay attention to that, only to the thumping feeling of your racing heart.

You close your eyes, putting all the emotion you can manage without breaking down, into your voice.

Suddenly the room around you faded, you saw your darkest fears, the ones you could never talk to someone about. Your worst memories.

Walking through the lush park that you could no longer stomach to see, the gentle air playing with locks of your hair. The three men, strangers to you, who now haunted your nightmares regardless, had come out of nowhere, the darkness around them betraying the darkness of their hearts. And when it was over, they slunk back to nowhere.

You had only been two blocks away from your house.

You were almost home.

But you weren’t.

The frightful attack was just the start of your mentally declining slope. Drugs, alcohol. They became your only comforts. The only thing helping you cope. The shame surrounding your use of them was apparent to only you. No one else knew of your pain. Not even your best friends.

The real saving light to your turmoil came, maybe not when you desperately wanted it to, but it came nonetheless.

Your parents.

Of course you knew that your trusting, caring parents would have never imagined the spiral you had fallen into.

But they tried their best to comfort you regardless. You saw the shame in their eyes though, they couldn’t hide that. Their shame didn’t change the fact they loved you.

You knew that they loved you.

So when they told you to go to rehab, you went willingly. They had to know what was best for you. Because you sure as hell didn’t.

Your eyes slowly trailed up to the judges, resisting the urge to wipe your eyes, unsure of if there were even tears in them.

The judges all had straight faces. For a second your heart sunk.

Maybe you just weren’t good enough.

Was your best not good enough?

The female judge was the first to crack. She turned away and her shoulders began shaking, her hands shooting up to her face. Sobs were torn from her mouth, none too quietly.

The CEO, Bang Shi Hyuk or better known as PD Nim, wasn’t crying or staring almost blankly at you. He was smiling.

“Thank you for auditioning, we’ll get back to you if you’ve made it through.” He stated, voice a little quieter than normal. “You remind me of someone.”

You blinked.

He sighed, realising that you wanted to know who he meant. “You remind me of RM, from BTS. You both speak well and have heartfelt lyrics.”

It was your turn to smile, a sense of pride washing over you. “He’s my brother.”

The judges gasped quietly, the crying woman’s eyes widening. “Why didn’t you tell us beforehand? We would’ve marked you better!”

You shuffled on your feet, fingers playing with each other. “Well…I guess… I..”

“I think Kim Y/n means that she didn’t want to use her brother to make it through the auditions.” Bang Shi Hyuk said, smiling kindly at you.

You nodded vigorously. “Yeah. I want to do it for myself. Not cheat my way through…”

The woman stood up, face contorted somewhere between disbelief and anger. “What if you don’t make it through? Wouldn’t that be worse on your reputation? It wouldn’t even be cheating, it would just be an advantage!”

“I want to do this myself. I’m sure I can.”

Bang Shi Hyuk nodded. “We have your details and contact information. The period of call backs is one to two weeks. Thank you. Goodbye.”

-✥-

“Namjoon’s really good at rapping.”

You were lying on the floor of the practice room at Big Hit Entertainment with five other girls. Not just any girls. These girls were insanely talented— and also the only female idol trainees signed under the same company as the Kpop sensation, BTS, the band your brother was in. You six girls were kind of special in that sense.

“Yeah I know.” You replied, not trying to hide the pride in your voice.

“How come you aren’t good at rapping then?” Aiko asked, her dark eyes fixated on the tv mounted on the wall. You rolled your eyes when you saw that her eyes were solely on your brother. You still weren’t used to the whole ‘worldwide famous brother’ thing.

“Just because my brother is a good rapper doesn’t mean I am too.”

Heeyoung laughed. “Yeah but how can you not even drop a beat?”

Heeyoung was the main rapper in the group, so you weren’t surprised to hear this from her.

“I’m a singer, not a rapper.” You replied.

Ji-Eun smiled softly. Her smile was a welcoming thing to you. She normally was quiet, didn’t smile much and wasn’t very opinionated— a real peacekeeper. When she spoke, she spoke with pure honesty. You had never seen her lie before, at least, not successfully.

“You’re the best singer I’ve ever heard. Better than all those professional singers out there.”

You went red. “J-Ji! You can’t say that!”

Aiko shook her head. “No, she’s right. You’re a real natural talent. Probably even better than Jungkook.”

Your eyes widened. “J-Jungkook? He’s a senior to us! You can’t insult him like that!”

“Y/n, it’s a compliment to you.” Aiko scoffed, no malice in her voice.

“B-but-!”

A tinkling laugh filled the room and you turned to the source. The lead dancer of your group was grinning up from her phone. “Y/n, you really can’t accept compliments can you?”

“I can accept compliments just fine Luna.” You pouted.

Luna shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe just not in front of us.”

“Baram has no problem accepting compliments. I guess she should do our acceptance speeches.” Aiko stated.

Baram looked up from her phones. Baram smirked instantly. “No, that won’t work. Our modest leader shall accept everything.”

“Accept what?” Luna laughed. “We haven’t even debuted yet!”

Aiko jumped up, thrusting her fist into the air. “Yeah, but I know we’ll do well! Just like BTS! Just like TXT!”

“Yeah but BTS is mainly vocalists. We have two vocals.”

Everyone’s eyes drifted to Baram. She was a known overthinker. Ji-Eun quickly came to the rescue though. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got some of the best dancers I’ve ever known! We’ll rock the industry to their core.”

You grinned. If anyone could energise your group, it was definitely Ji-Eun. “On three! UT-Opia!”

“UT-Opia!”

-✥-

You sat down in your dormitory, ignoring the fact that Aiko was sleeping, quite loudly, in your own bed. You rolled your eyes, throwing a blanket over her and turning on your camera.

You smiled warmly into the camera. “Welcome back, Blisses! I’m Y/n, the leader and main singer of UT-Opia! Today I’ll be talking about the song writing process! First I think of what the song will be about. Normally two themes: Love or sadness. I’m feeling pretty happy right now, so I’ll write about love.”

You talked for maybe five minutes before signing off and turning off the camera. You sighed in relief. Now all you had to do was your afternoon workout, and you would be done for the day.

Aiko stirred from under the blanket. “Oh. Hey Y/n.”

Walking over to her, you smiled lovingly. As much as you loved all the girls equally, you had a soft spot for the maknae, Aiko.

“Hey Aiko.”

She looked over at where your camera was set up, sheets of music and note paper discarded messily. Her brow creased. “Were you filming a daily vlog?”

You nodded.

“Don’t overwork yourself.” She warned.

You laughed unintentionally at this. Here she was, so exhausted from her daily life that she had collapsed into your bed, and slept for who knows how long. And she was telling you to take a break.

“I’m fine Aiko. You, however, look tired. Please sleep well. I’ll wake you when we need to practice.”

Her head immediately fell into the blanket again. “Thanks Y/n.”

You shared a room with Ji-Eun, which you never used. Really, it was more a gesture than anything useful.

You carefully pried open the front door to your actual dorm, being as silent as possible.

“Y/n! You’re back!”

Your brother greeted you with a hug and you couldn’t help but fall into his warm embrace. He smiled at you.

“Where were you? I hope you weren’t practicing all day..”

You grinned and pulled him into another quick hug. “No more than I need to.”

Namjoon sighed. He rustled his short blue hair and eyed your own dyed hair. “Honestly, at this point do we even look like siblings?”

“The price of fame.” You quipped. He laughed slightly.

“The price of keeping your fans happy.”

You turned to him, setting down the cup of coffee you had just begun to make. You studied him with care, studying him for any of his normal nervous habits. But no, he was standing calm and still.

“Don’t you enjoy making your fans happy anymore?”

He looked up from his own cup. He shook his head. “I do. I love making them happy. In fact, they make me happy.”

“I wonder if I’ll be as happy.”

The words came out without any intention to. Your thoughts had somehow managed to scramble themselves and now your older brother was looking at you, bright eyes unable to mask their sympathy.

“I’m sure you’ll be just as successful—if not more. And I’ll always make sure you’re happy.”

You sucked in a breath. “Always?”

“When have I ever not been here for you?”

You didn’t answer his question, knowing if you lied he may be able to tell, somehow. Instead you just nodded, smiled slightly awkwardly.

A gush of breeze raced past you, so fast you couldn’t even see what it was. Well, not really. As sneaky as Taehyung thought himself, the young man from your brother's group was actually not very good at unnoticed movements. In fact it had only taken two days of living with him to know his lying habits, exactly how fake his smile was, and what he did when he was tired. A lot of the time, it was the latter. He never seemed to get a full night's sleep. Often he would knock on your door and you would get out of bed and follow him out onto the deck. Together you would sit in silence, just gazing at the stars.

“Y/n! You hard worker! I’m glad you’re back!”

You smiled at the younger man and brought him in to you for a brief hug. “Ah, I should be saying that to you guys. Promoting a new album is making your schedules busy, eh?”

Namjoon sighed loudly. “It’s hard.” He saw your slightly disappointed face and hurried to correct himself. “It’s always worth it though.”

“Mm. I’ll wait until I see the worth.”

You breath hitched. Min Yoongi, the second oldest in your brothers group, had entered the room. He scratched his neck slowly, eyes trailing to each person's present face. He looked away before he got to you though.

“Oh Yoongi give her some hope.” Taehyung complained.

Yoongi shrugged. “It’s true. I’m just tired right now. Where’s the cereal?”

“Grandpa, it’s 10 at night.” Namjoon groaned.

Yoongi’s upper lip curled downwards in something that resembled disgust. “What’s wrong with cereal at night?” His frown deepened. “And don’t call me grandpa.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “Whatever. How’s your practice going anyway?”

Realising this was directed at you, you looked up into your brothers strong eyes. “I think we’re pretty good! Almost as good as you guys!” You teased.

Namjoon laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You girls are very talented. All we have really is years of work and a massive fan base backing our every move.”

Your eyebrows fell. “We haven’t even debuted yet. Of course we aren’t that successful.”

“You guys still do daily vlogs right?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah Y/n did one this morning.”

Turning to Yoongi, your heart caught slightly. “D-did you watch it?”

He nodded. “It was good. I like the way you write your music. It’s very deep.”

Your heart began pounding, not because of the butterflies catching at the fact that he had been watching you, but now because he had seen you so invested in your music. It almost felt as if you were ripping out pages of a diary you had kept for years and giving it to him to read through.

“Too bad you didn’t do any singing though.”

“I haven’t heard you sing— really sing, I’m so long Y/n.” Namjoon jumped in. “Do you think you could sing for me at some point.”

“Me too!” Taehyung jumped in, reminding you that he was still there.

“Maybe later?” You squeaked.

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s fine. I think you should go to bed.”

You sighed. Of course Namjoon had noticed the sleep bags under your eyes. He was too perceptible for his own good sometimes.

“I will. I just need to talk with Jungkook first.”

The three boys nodded. It had become a regular thing, you talking to each of the boys in private every few days. They just assumed that it was for some type of mentoring purposes, as the things you asked about were always vague. But your conversations always turned to a more emotional route.

Because you weren’t there only for their tutoring and mentoring.

-✥-

“Jungkook sunbae?”

“Come in.”

You slowly opened his door, walking in quietly. He was slouched on the floor against his wall, phone in hand. He looked up at you and grinned.

“Hey Y/n. Nice to see you. And for the hundredth time, just call me Jungkook. You’re older than me for goodness sake.”

You laughed, sliding down next to him. “But you have so much more experience than me. It doesn’t feel right addressing you so casually.”

“You’ve been living here for two whole years now. I think we’re pretty good friends at this point.”

“You guys have really blown up over two years.”

He turned off his phone, throwing it and landing it perfectly onto his bed. “And you guys have gotten a lot better at dancing— which to be honest, is astounding seeing how good you were to start with.”

“And your mental health has gotten so much better.”

“It’s only thanks to you.”

You smiled. “I’m glad I can do anything to help you. You didn’t need much helping really, just a gentle push in the right direction. You’ve been strong since I’ve known you.”

“You as well.” Jungkook responded earnestly. “You were really reluctant to move in with us at first.”

A laugh filled the room. “Well you should expect that— A 23 year old moving in with a bunch of men.”

Jungkook shrugged. “I moved in with a bunch of teenagers and young men when I was only young. I guess I had very different experiences to other people.” He looked down at the tattoos running all along the skin of his hands. The word ‘ARMY’ spelt out of his group members' names. “I guess some of those experiences were good though.”

A warm smile washed over your face, lighting up your eyes.

Jungkook was right.

Some experiences were different— and they weren’t all enjoyable.

But some of them were good.

“I’m really glad I came here. Even if I didn’t really want to at first. I’ve learnt so much from you guys. I think I’ve grown a lot more too.”

Jungkook chuckled, ready to poke fun at you after your shared emotional moment. “I hope you don’t mean in height, because that certainly isn’t true.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him slightly as you got up.

He looked slightly crestfallen as you began to exit his room. “Wait I didn’t mean to offend you!”

You giggled. “And you didn’t. I just need to go to bed. I’m tired, Kook.”

A bright grin washed over his face, white teeth popping out in a bunny like expression. “You called me Kook!”

You paused in his doorway. “No..”

Bolting towards, and before you could react he had his arms wrapped around you tightly.

This felt sickeningly similar.

The feeling of being deprived of air.

The world turned to pure black.

“Y/n?”

You blinked.

Right. That was just your memories. This was the present.

And there was no reason for you to be afraid.

Grabbing at Jungkook’s back you found your chin resting on his shoulder. He fidgeted, clearly surprised that you had returned his gesture.

“Yeah I called you Kook. Goodnight, Jungkook. Sleep well.”

He pulled back, even though you were his noona, a few years older than him even, he still stood a large majority taller than yourself. He leant down to press a light kiss onto your forehead. A brotherly action.

You pulled him into another hug quickly before running out of his room, trying in vain to hide your beaming face.

-✥-

“They’re coming over here? Them!” Aiko squealed, not even trying to conceal her inner fangirl.

“Yeah. And one of ‘them’ is my older brother.” You eyed up Aiko’s bouncy stage. “Don’t make it weird.”

Aiko huffed, placing her hands onto her hips, staring at you with a sassy pout. “I've never made things weird.”

Luna jumped up, feeding off Aiko’s overexcited energy. “We can introduce ourselves as a group right? That’ll be so cool! Using our stage names too!”

“You don’t even have a stage name.” Heeyoung pointed out.

Luna thrust a hand at herself dramatically. “My name is so beautiful I need no stage name.”

“Girls! Get ready, they’ve just arrived.” Your manager said offhandedly, obviously not grasping the weight of the rest of your group getting to perform in front of the most famous band in the world.

You all jumped up, standing in a line in front of the door, a few metres back so as to not scare the poor boys.

The door clicked open and a bodyguard stepped inside. He looked around, then stepping forwards and aside, he cleared the way for the tall man behind him to enter.

Your brother smiled softly at you as the rest of the group filed inside slowly. You could hear Aiko practically buzzing when Jimin stepped inside.

“2! 3! Bangtan. Hello, we’re BTS!”

“We know.” Ji-Eun muttered and you had to bite your tongue to suppress a laugh.

You stepped forward, taking in a breath. “Hello! We are UT-Opia!”

At the end for UT-Opia, the other girls joined in so it came out as a chorus.

Your manager waved his hand as if this wasn’t necessary at all. It probably wasn’t, but it made you feel professional.

“Introduce yourselves girls. I’m sure the boys don’t need to.”

Ji-Eun raised her hand. “Manager, I’m sure I’ve told you, I don’t know BTS well at all.”

You giggled. Ji-Eun was ever blunt and honest. Your manager didn’t see this as a virtue though, and hung his face in his hands.

“It’s fine. Hi! I’m RM, rapper and leader of BTS.”

The following six members introduced themselves, to which Ji-Eun noticeably didn’t pay much attention to. Realising it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, mustering your fleeting courage.

“I’m Y/n of UT-Opia. I'm the main vocalist and the leader.”

“I’m K.” Ji-Eun tried dismally to put any emotion into saying her stage name. “I'm the lead rapper and the oldest.”

“Hey! I’m Luna, lead dancer!” Luna accentuated the words ‘lead dancer’ with a flip of her dyed blonde hair.

“I’m Gem and I’m a main dancer.” Baram looked almost starstruck to be talking to BTS. She was normally overly confident and self certain, but right now she looked quite awed.

“I’m Cinnamon, it’s a stage name do not worry, and I’m a main dancer but I prefer the title of-”

Manager tapped his watch. Heeyoung smiled sympathetically at him, but regardless continued her speech. “I’m main dancer but I prefer the title of main rapper.” She looked down at her purple button up shirt and dark tracksuits that somehow looked fashionable. “I’m not as good at dancing as I am at styling.”

You could’ve sworn you heard Manager groan at her final wordings.

“I’m Aiko. I’m the youngest and I’m a sub vocal and also a dancer and sub rapper!”

Manager breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness that’s over. Girls do you have a song you could perform, you know, to show what you can do? The boys can give some pointers or something.”

He looked down hurriedly at his watch. “I’m late to a meeting. Thank you BTS for coming. Please take care of them.”

As soon as the uptight man rushed from the room, Yoongi dropped onto the ground along with Jimin, and on the other end of the room, Heeyoung.

“Let’s get rid of the formalities, alright?” Yoongi asked.

You nodded. “Ji-Eun, their names are Namjoon, Seokjin, Hoseok, Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook, alright?”

She frowned. “I would’ve addressed them by their hair colours if I didn’t know.”

“But unnie-” You began.

Hoseok cut you off with a laugh. “Sorry Y/n for interrupting. Just K has such a lack of care. It’s quite honestly refreshing when everyone treats you like kings of some kind.”

“My name isn’t actually K.” Ji-Eun pointed out. “It’s Ji-Eun. Call me Ji.”

“I’m Baram.” Gem added.

You noticed the boy's eyes trail to Heeyoung. She didn’t comply.

“I’m just Cinnamon. It’s my birth name.”

“Her name is Heeyoung.” You said, grinning at her.

She rolled her eyes. “And the air of mystery is gone.”

“So what are you guys gonna perform?” Yoongi asked, eager to hear you sing.

You fiddled with your fingers. “We’re a mainly dance focused group, should we dance?”

“I want to hear you sing though.” Yoongi replied, not enforcing, but softly so he sounded as if he were reassuring you.

“Well.. I-” You begun.

Heeyoung leapt to her feet. “Well? Cmon! Let’s do that song!”

“Heeyoung and Aiko dragged you to your feet. “It’s a good song too!”

“I dunno.” You whispered.

Ji-Eun looked deep into your eyes. “There’s no harm in trying.”

And with that, you were in the middle of the room, a microphone in hand and the rest of your group spread around you.

Aiko pressed the player, turning on a quiet piano track you could remember sitting down and playing to record. It had been emotional by yourself, how would it be with people with you?

You took a deep breath.

No harm in trying.

Focusing on your voice instead of their reactions, you closed your eyes. As the words to your song left your lips, your mind wasn’t in the practice room. You were racing through all your bad memories.

And there was a light at the end of the foggy tunnel of pain.

A way out.

The last time Namjoon had heard you sing was before he went to audition for Bighit Entertainment. A long time ago. You had been just goofing around with him, he was rapping to the song and you were singing. He had showered you with compliments over your voice after that.

Would he still like your voice?

Your eyelids fluttered open. Ji-Eun, Heeyoung, Aiko and Baram were all moving rhythmically around you, moving with the music. Luna was dancing beside you in a smooth flowing form of actions. It wasn’t the normal hip hop or pop dancing she normally did. This was a more sorrow filled format. Her movements were lucid. She noticed you watching and made her way over to you. Her palm drew across your face, sliding your eyelids shut.

Only when you felt the moisture on her palm slide across your face did you realise you were crying. So much emotion was being poured into your voice that you hadn’t kept a tight enough lid on how you were acting physically.

You didn’t make the motion to wipe off your tears though.

The tears, the pain— they were part of your song.

Part of your life.

As the song drew to a close, your eyes opened again to see the astounded faces of the members of BTS. Yoongi’s eyes were wide and it seemed as if there was a slight sheen to them, a small amount of moisture. Hoseok, Jimin and Jin all looked amazed, and slightly guilty that you were crying. Jungkook and Taehyung were both blinking back tears. They had needed you a lot more than the others in your years of helping them with their mental health and hated seeing you upset.

The boys all had the same look of adoration and amazement plastered onto their faces. They were blown away by your voice, your emotion. By you.

Your brother was astounded though. A wave of emotions seemed to be rippling through his expressions all at once. It was a relief to hear your sweet voice once again, lifting and filling up the room as you sing your heart out. Pride overwhelmed him.

He was proud of you, of your voice. Of your emotions.

You fetched some drink bottles and took the chance to dry your eyes, handing a bottle to each member of your group.

“That was a really good song.” Yoongi noted. “The piano was superb as well. The lyrics.. they were really deep and heartfelt.

Aiko smiled. “That’s our Y/n writing and playing that song!”

Namjoon blinked slowly. “You wrote that song?”

“Y-yeah.” You gulped. Maybe he didn’t like it after all. “It’s not very good but-“

“Are you kidding me?” Namjoon yelped. “It was so good! The lyrics were so deep as Yoongi said! I can’t believe you’re such a good writer!”

You flushed a shade of crimson. “I-I-I thank you.”

“What is…” Yoongi’s voice trailed off. He peered at the moisture still in your reddened eyes. “Never mind.”

You flashed an okay-then smile at him and turned back to listen to how Hoseok and Jimin were critiquing their dancing— even though they would be the first to admit there was hardly anything to criticize. Jungkook began talking to you about some singing tips and you immersed yourself back into real life again. Pulling your mind out of your over active imagination.

-✥-

A nock came on your door when it was already late at night. In fact, if you stuck to your schedule you would already be in bed. But you found yourself sitting in your room, writing out lyrics to a song that you didn’t even need to write. You slowly opened the door, shutting off your light first so it looked as if you were about to go to bed, and not ignoring your schedule.

“Sorry Y/n. I know it’s a bit late.”

Yoongi stood in the hallway, shifting awkwardly, his eyes in contrast shon with a determination.

You felt your stomach fill with butterflies and you tried to quench the feeling. “No, it’s fine. What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. I just...I wanted to ask a question.”

“Fire away.”

He shook his head slightly. “Well it’s not just a casual question. And I want to make sure I’m not invading your privacy. But it’s about the song you sung earlier.”

You felt your heart drop, blood running cold while simultaneously goosebumps spiked onto your skin.

“You seemed very emotional.. not even seemed. You cried and I really want to know why. I just feel that if I wait any longer to ask you, it’ll be too late. Now feels like the right time.”

Sighing, you knew he was right. You couldn’t hide your demons forever. Even though you had talked to your therapist a bit about the incident, you had never gone into depth about it with your parents. You had never even told Namjoon. Your brother had no idea that it had happened.

And it was time that he knew.

“Can you go get Namjoon? I’m not ready to tell the others yet.”

You were really close to Yoongi, the time that you had spent in their housing really grew you close to him. He had picked up on your main reason for being there almost the third time you had talked to him. He didn't mind that you were partially there just to help their mental health.

When you first moved in he hadn’t been at his best, stressed over the band’s popularity and success. His OCD was worse than ever.

More upset than the others, you were eager to help him get back on his feet. At first however, Yoongi was cold to you. He didn’t think he needed your help. He could fix it himself.

And he thought you were stuck up and arrogant to think that you could help him. After all, you were only 25 years old. Who were you to help him?

But slowly and surely with your help, he managed to get a hand on his health. He accepted that you could help him. It came to a time when he was happy to talk to you, and looked forward to it even.

Telling them was hard, but it felt freeing. Like a weight you had been carrying for the past eight years was lifted. As if you had been chained to your trauma and couldn’t get free, and now the locks were opened.

“You were attacked?” Namjoon almost yelled. You shushed him, nodding. Even though Yoongi had told the other boys not to enter the recording studio, you didn’t want to run any risks of them hearing regardless.

“The place is sound proofed Y/n, don’t worry.” Namjoon looked apologetic, as if by yelling he had upset you somehow. “But you were attacked? When was this?!”

“When I was seventeen…”

He immediately let out a cry. “You never told me? I could’ve helped you! Did the person ever get caught? Held accountable?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t a person… it was three men.”

Namjoon swore loudly. “Multiple people? Attacking a fucking teenager? Who the fuck do they think they are? Who are they Y/n?”

You felt someone’s warm hand slip into yours, giving your own a tight reassuring squeeze. You noticed you were trembling slightly. It wasn’t from Namjoon raising his voice. It was from realising the weight of what had happened to you, that had suddenly come crashing down onto your mind.

You kept your gaze focused on Yoongi’s hand grasping yours, trying not to look at your astonished brother's face.

“I… I don’t know. They.. weren’t found.”

Namjoon let out a loud growl. “So the authorities can’t even do their job and find these degenerates? Fuck them.”

“N-Namjoon they’re trying their best! It’s not their fault…”

A wave of sympathy and guilt washed over his face. “It’s not your fault either Y/n! It’s those stupid bastards fault!”

You held your free hand up to quiet him. “Namjoon, I know it’s not my fault.”

His eyes narrowed, staring deep beyond your skin. “You’re so different Y/n… I shouldn’t have left you. You’ve changed so much from the little girl I left in Ilsan.”

You shook your head. “I changed at first after the attack. When I miscarried my child,”

You heard the boys intake of breath when they heard miscarriage. Namjoon didn’t know that you had been pregnant. YOUR PARENTS DIDN'T KNOW. How could you talk about this without crying? Without breaking down?

It was so hard to think about let alone talk to someone else about. But it was your brother. He had a right to know. And you wanted him to know.

“I-it really changed me. I thought.. maybe I was to blame for my child’s death. After all, I was the mother.. I was meant to take care of my baby. And I didn’t.”

“Y-your child..?” Namjoon whispered.

The present had faded into a fog. It was if you were standing in the dark, pure silence enveloping you. All you could hear was your thoughts, booming louder than you could control.

Your child.

Yoongi softly touched your arm. “Y/n? You were.. pregnant when you were attacked?”

You shook your head slowly. “The attack.. I got pregnant after..”

The words clicked inside Yoongi and Namjoon’s minds, sudden rage boiling through them.

The child you had carried inside you. The innocent victim of ruthless men, who you were just as bad as. It wasn’t the child’s fault. You had decided to keep it after you were found to be pregnant, hoping that you would be able to provide the child a life better than it’s conception.

You found out only months later that due to complications of your physical and mental health sustained after the attack— the poor infant had died before even reaching half term.

You had failed them.

“Y/n.. it’s not your fault.” Yoongi murmured. “You couldn’t stop them from attacking you, you weren’t to know… it’s in no way your fault. It’s so brave that you kept the baby...”

You shook your head, hands coming up to wipe tears from your eyes. “I was the mother! How could I fail my baby? It wasn’t their fault that their father was a c-criminal! It wasn’t their fault that they were conceived from an assault! They were innocent! T-There’s always a way to save someone!”

Namjoon grabbed your hands in his. “Y/n, it isn’t your fault. I’m really sorry you had to go through that, that you still feel guilt. You were so brave to try and give them a life anyway, even if it hurt you. You shouldn’t feel any guilt. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t blame yourself. I love you, Y/n. And I’m here for you.”

You sniffled softly, glad for your brother's presence.

He was right.

You knew that.

You had known that for years. But it took someone else saying that for you to finally realise it was true.

It wasn’t your fault.

“Do you feel alright to continue, Y/n?” Yoongi murmured, an empathetic expression washing over his face. “We can take a break if you want…”

“No.” You smiled slightly, Yoongi’s caring side more than enough to reassure that you were safe. “I’m alright.”

Taking a deep breath, you continued your story. “I-I got addicted to drugs. I was completely off the rails, trying my best to cope with something I couldn’t handle. It was destroying me from the inside out. Eating away at my physical health as well as my mental state. My-... our parents, found out a little while after. I didn’t last that long before they discovered what happened.”

“They knew?” Namjoon cried, his choice cracking. “Why did no one tell me? I should’ve known! I would’ve helped you!”

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes. “You don’t understand Namjoon! If I would’ve told you you would’ve left BTS! You would’ve come back home!”

“Well yes! Of course!” Namjoon replied.

“I couldn't let you give up your dreams for me! I couldn’t be responsible for ruining my brother's life! Not when our parents were already so shocked and upset to hear the news! Mum was always so supportive to both of us! She tried her best to make me happy and comfortable! But it got to the point where they couldn’t handle it anymore.. they sent me to rehab.”

“Rehab?” Yoongi asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded. “It really helped me. The people there were so kind. It took me a while, but I finally recovered.”

Namjoon’s heart had been thumping in his chest for the past ten minutes. He couldn’t bear the thought that anyone had dared to hurt his little sister. By all accounts, to him she was perfect. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hurt her.

“I should’ve been there for you! I’m your older brother and I didn’t even get to support you! I didn’t get the chance.”

You felt your heart shaking within you. “N-Namjoon? I have to tell you something else too.”

Namjoon and Yoongi looked at you, nervous for whatever you were going to say. You took a deep, shaky breath.

“You know the people you were in a rap group with back at Ilsan?”

Namjoon’s heart stopped.

“T-they were the ones who attacked me.”

Anger flared inside Namjoon’s eyes. “My former friends?! Attacked you?”

You nodded reluctantly.

His head fell into his hands. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’ll kill them.”

You both turned to Yoongi, whose jaw was set in determination. “I’ll kill them.” He repeated, his eyes focused solely on you.

Namjoon quickly jumped in. “Me too. Those sick bastards think they can get away with hurting my sister? I-I-”

“No.” You whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Namjoon snapped. “I never knew that you were this hurt! How could you be fine?”

“Rehab really cleared my head.. I finally got a chance to step back and for the first time in possibly years, think about what I wanted.”

“Y/n…”

Yoongi’s soft eyes were focused solely on you, in a way that would normally cause your heart to do somersaults. But not right now. The tension in the room was thick, the atmosphere that of a depressing one.

“You’re a fighter.”

You hadn't expected this response. You had expected some form of criticism, for him to tell you on for subbumcing so easily to the quick way to no pain.

You get your heart squeezing. You had never talked in depth about your feelings to your parents, but right now you would be willing to open your heart to Yoongi.

“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. Sure, when you first got here I thought you were a snob, someone stuck up and ready to have the world handed to them simply for Namjoon’s achievements.”

Namjoon’s brow creased. “Watch how you talk about my sister hyung-”

“It’s alright.” You reassured him. “I trust his words mean no harm.”

Yoongi nodded instantly. “My views on you quickly changed. You cared for each of us, even if initially it was solely as a favour to Hitman Bang. And we began to care deeply for you. Because no matter what you’ve been through, no matter what tears you’ve shed and for what reasons, you always will mean so much to us. So much more than you can imagine.”

Yoongi wiped a tear from forming on the corner of his eye. He smiled sadly at you, regardless of the simplicity of the gesture, a wave of emotions spread through the one smile, rejuvenating and replenishing your drive, your focus.

“You deserve your happiness.”

You turned to the small voice.

He had spoken so much quieter than you had ever heard him speak before, the raw feelings in his voice transparent. “You deserve to be happy. You’ve been working so hard. You can’t just sacrifice your happiness for the benefit of others. I remember when we were growing up, you used to always make sure that I was okay if anything happened. Y/n, I’m your older brother. It’s okay to rely on me for support sometimes. You need me just as much as I need you. And that’s not a bad thing.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You threw yourself against Namjoon’s chest, grabbing his back tightly, clasping him as if you could never let go.

“Y/n…”

You tried in vain to wipe your tears from your eyes, looking up at his strong face.

“It’s okay to cry. You don’t always have to smile. You’re still strong. And I’ll still love you anyway. You’re still my sister.”

You buried your face into his toned chest again. “N-Namjoon..I-I-I love you too.” You sniffled.

He gripped you tightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

“It’s not your fault, Namjoon. It’s only their fault. Please don’t feel guilty.”

Pulling away from you, he wiped the tears off your moist cheeks. “Okay Y/n. For you, anything.”

A small cough was interjected into the comfortable silence of the room, reminding you that Yoongi was still there. Both you and your brother turned to him. His eyes were soft and empathetic, as if he didn’t want to spoil the moment, but couldn't wait any longer.

“C-can I please talk to Y/n alone?”

Namjoon considered his hyung. While he didn’t really want to leave his sisters side, he knew that Yoongi wouldn’t ask it he wouldn’t take care of her. Namjoon knew he could trust him.

“Okay.” He relented. “Y/n, I love you. Just say if you need anything.”

On his way out he grabbed Yoongi’s shoulder bringing the older man against him.

“Make sure she’s okay. Don’t you dare hurt her.”

Yoongi nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I was in a dark place once. I wasn’t happy. It felt like the world was against me.”

Now that you were alone with Yoongi, he seemed a lot less cold, and a lot more caring. The off putting gaze he had on accident given you multiple times was replaced with soft eyes that seemed to drip honey.

“I got through it. And I’m heaps weaker than you. I don’t have the mental endurance that you have, nor the fighting spirit. If anyone can overcome this situation— it’s you.”

You wiped your eyes with your hands. It was so reassuring to have someone believe in you. To have someone who was backing you up.

“You know, I can’t believe how strong you are. To be able to recover from that in just years? And with only really your own strength? I really admire it. It’s amazing.”

You blushed slightly. “I didn’t really have much choice.”

He sighed, eyes scanning the door as if someone might burst in any second.

“Y/n… I shouldn’t be saying this. But I can’t hold onto my feelings any longer. I really like you.”

Your heart began racing and you could feel your skin begin to heat up.

Could Yoongi see how nervous you were?

You hoped he couldn’t.

“I-I-”

He grabbed your hand tightly, making your face flush.

“Y/n, you don’t have to answer me right now. I can wait as long as you need. I would wait forever for you.”

“Y-Yoongi I really like you too. I know I’m not always perfect but I-”

Yoongi’s body fell against yours, his arms wrapping around your frame. He stroked your hair slowly, burying his face in your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be perfect. Your flaws make you humans.” He pulled back slightly, playing with your hair as he looked right through you. “I believe you can overcome your flaws. They don’t make you a bad person. They make you you.”

You giggled slightly. It was weird to hear Yoongi so sweet. Normally he stayed away, his face in a resting serious face. You were so happy to see him smile.

“I’m so glad you like me back. I was so worried.”

“Me too…”

He pulled away one last time, his face weighted with a burden that hadn’t been obvious before. Or had you just not noticed.

“Y/n.. I know your past. So I think it’s time you found out mine.”

Your mouth opened slightly, eyes widening.

“Really? You trust me that much?”

He nodded, grinning. Then he frowned again. “Not all of it will be pretty. I-it might shock you a bit.”

You squeezed his hand that was still in yours. He blushed.

“I’m ready.”

[me-and-your-husband]

halloween scare || r. drysdale

Summary: Ransom takes you to a ‘Haunted House’ on Halloween night. 

Warnings: mentions of sex, dirty talk, and a lot of swearing, but a lot of fluff too.

Word Count: 1.2k

I used two Halloween prompts for this fic;

“There’s a reason why sensible people don’t go into haunted houses, this is it.”

“You’re about as scary as a kitten, kitten.”

I did not make up these prompts!

A/N: here’s a lil something to make up for my inactivity these past weeks, and also because Halloween is my favourite time of the year.

            Walking down the sidewalk that stretched out the distance between mine and Ransom’s house to whoever’s house we had just left, Ransom swung our hands back and forth as they interlaced. His other hand was stuffed in his lab coat. He was dressed as a doctor for Halloween, and I a nurse. Not the typical nurse costume, it was way more modest, just a pair of scrubs and a stethoscope. We were talking about all the sticky drunk people making out in every corner of every room, eliciting laughs and groans of disgust from each other.

“Yuck. I don’t understand why people need to showcase their tongues down other peoples’ throats. It’s doing nothing beneficial for anyone else, unless they get off on that shit,” he ranted. A soft chuckle escaped from my lips, and my hand left his so both could come up to wrap them around myself. I should have thought ahead and brought a jacket; the chilly late October breeze was unrelenting.

Ransom had noticed my chilled state, and without even a second of hesitation, removed his lab coat and opened it behind me so I could put my arms through. I thanked him, so which he returned by planting chaste kiss to my forehead, returning his hand to mine.

Occasionally, we passed kids, usually the older ones, who were still trick-or-treating.

“You know, I never went trick-or-treating as a kid,” Ransom stated abruptly, his stare kept on the ground. I turned my head to face him. “What do you mean?” I questioned gently. He drew in a sharp breath, huffing it out, creating a cloud in the air.

“My parents never had time to take me, and by the time I was old enough to go by myself I was already in a billion different clubs, classes and extra-curriculars to even care about Halloween.” He gave me a sad smile. “It’s something I’ve wanted since I was old enough to feel unloved; to have kids of my own one day, to have them know their loved and not have to question it.” He was looking back at the ground now. I stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face him. I pulled him back by the had to face me.

“When we have kids, we’ll take them trick-or-treating together every Halloween. We’ll carve insanely horrible jack-o-lanterns, and then stuff ourselves with candy corn while the kids are asleep. But as for tonight, I’ve got other plans.” I said, bringing him in to a slow kiss, my hands pulling gently on his hair. I pulled away, and without shame, whispered the most dirty, sinful things into his ear, biting his earlobe softly.

“Mmm, that sounds nice…” he said back, in a soothing tone. “But I’ve got a surprise for you first.”

He grabbed my hand and led me through twists and turns, the streets slowly turned into ones I didn’t recognize. His pace quickened as we neared our destination, and he abruptly stopped when we were standing in front of an old house, the only one on the street.

It was fully dark, and the house was surrounded by trees leading into the forest behind the house. The shudders on the windows were broken and mangled, the brown siding falling off. Thick fog surrounded the steps, and a mangy looking cat walked across the porch railing. The full moon cast a glow on Ransom’s sharp features, and I gave him a blank look. The grin on his face spread into a devilish smirk, inferencing the mischief to come.

“Ransom, what-“

“Shhh, pretty girl,” he said, pressing a finger against my lips. He grabbed my hands and led me towards the door of the house. I watched as the door slowly creaked open, then shut abruptly with a slam. More fog poured out of the house.

“There’s a reason why sensible people don’t go into haunted houses, and this is it,” I argued, trying to tug his hand, but it was no use. He just let out a laugh and continued on up the steps. When we reached the door, he cautiously grabbed then door knocker and banged it against the oak four times. Holding my breath, I squeezed Ransom’s hand.

“Relax, pretty girl, there’s no such thing as monsters-“

Four hands with long, slender fingers suddenly reached out of the door. Three grabbed Ransom, and one covered his mouth. He was pulled into the house, and the door shut again. A blood-curdling scream left my throat, but it died in my throat when I whipped around, to see a man dressed in all black, aside from the Jason mask, walking towards me while dragging a baseball bat on the ground. I was caught between running or hiding, and my body took over and I started pounding my fists on the door.

“Let me in! Please help me!” I bellowed.

The door swung open, and I fell forwards as my weight was leaning on it. I crawled backwards, and the door shut in front of the man with a bat, just as he was going to come inside. I was left in total darkness. I scrambled to my feet, wiping my hands on my scrubs. My heavy breathing was all I could hear.

I grabbed my phone out of my back pocket, and pressed the on button continuously, but it was dead. Great, just my luck.

“Fuck me,” I whispered, my breath still heavy in my chest. I squinted my eyes to try to see something, anything, but it did nothing for my current visual impairment. Suddenly, a warm breath fell to the back of my neck, and rough hands crept up my sides. I was frozen, I couldn’t even tremble.

“Gladly,” said a voice I could have known, but it hadn’t registered in the fear of it all. My mouth opened to scream, but a hand left my side and covered my mouth. The lights abruptly turned on, and I opened my eyes.

I heard boisterous, wheezing laughter to the left of me, and looked over. There, Meg and Marta stood clutching their stomachs with grisly gloves on their hands. Directly behind me, Ransom was laughing into my shoulder, uncontained. I spun around and punched him hard in the arm. He winced and rubbed his shoulder.

“You asshole! What the actual fuck!” I yelled out profanities, walking forward, backing him up against a wall.

“You know I scare easily! What in the hell was that for? And you even got them in on it!” I said pointing to the pair, still hunched over with tears in their eyes.

“Baby, baby I’m sorry! It was just so funny and-“He rubbed his other arm after I punched it.

“You better be fucking ready, because I’m going to torture the shit out of you, until you’re screaming for me to stop instead of screaming for me to keep going,” I said, just above a whisper so Meg and Marta couldn’t hear.

He smirked at me. The bastard smirked. “You’re about as scary as a kitten, kitten.”

He’s an asshole, but he’s totally “whipped” for me, as our friends say, and I love him.

  PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@kyrarose16​

[stilestilikeslydia]

Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy: Part Two

so I’m almost never on tumblr anymore, but in case any of you remember my old fics, I wanted to come back to let you know that I FINALLY finished the second part to this fic that I wrote for the Stydia Big Bang almost four years ago haha

there’s also some excellent art for it that @wellsjahasghost and @sydrianssage made for it way back in 2017 that you can check out here and here if you would like :)

enjoy!

(Rated M)

“I can't believe I've been a ghost for ten years, and nobody thought to tell me about the new Star Wars trilogy until today. ”

“Stiles, nobody even knew you existed until last month.”

Kira slapped Malia’s knee—lightly, because Kira was still incapable of giving an actual reprimand. “Well, we’ve told you about it now,” she said, offering him her brightest smile. “What did you think?”

“I think… I miss my blissful ignorance from eight hours ago, when I didn’t know that George Lucas greenlit this absolute garbage fire,” Stiles whined. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, The Force Awakens started out with a lot of potential, and the cast is full of extremely hot and talented people, but what the fuck?! My only regret is that my death tree wasn’t transformed into a desk in the writers’ room for these movies, or I could have haunted those dipshits until they figured out how to write a plot that actually made sense.”

“Your only regret, huh?” Lydia asked, keeping her tone dry and incredulous.

“No, you're right,” Stiles said, his expression instantly transforming into the biggest shit-eating grin Lydia had seen since before he'd died. “I also regret not inventing ectoplasmic grocery stores before my death. It’s unfair that I cook for all of you and don't get to eat any of it.”

“Not our fault you actually enjoy cooking,” Malia pointed out. “And depleting Lydia's bank account.”

“I am going to strangle you,” Lydia said. “Werecoyote strength or not.”

“But then who’s going to sit next to you in bars and make fun of everybody we see?”

“Yeah, you need her for that,” Kira added. “I’m terrible at judging people, and so is Scott.”

Scott toasted her with a grin, looking relaxed and comfortable against the armrest of the oversized couch he was currently sharing with a ghost and a realtor. Stiles took one look at him and snorted.

“Scott’s a terrible judge of many things,” he agreed. “People… the distance between a car bumper and the curb… movies…”

“Movies?”

“Yes, Scott!” Stiles crowed, now fully recovered from his initial disappointment. “This trilogy may have been a mess, but in order to watch it, you must have seen the other two trilogies too, and that means you have to know how great they are! Admit it, Star Wars is amazing, you were wrong, and I was right! Not watching it with me earlier was the biggest mistake of your life!”

“Maybe not the biggest,” Scott said, the grin on his face slipping a little. Lydia’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. “Anyway, I already knew the Star Wars movies were good. I watched them junior year.”

“Junior year?! ” Stiles squawked, so surprised that he started sinking into the couch. “And you never told me?! What the hell, man, all those times you pretended not to get my references and you—”

“Of college,” Scott clarified, and the room went silent.

Lydia set her wine glass down on the coffee table with trembling fingers. The tapping of glass on wood sounded like a gunshot, a bullet to the lungs. There was a crescent moon outside. For one heart-shattering moment, Lydia swore she could smell wolfsbane.

“I’m going to go get a glass of water,” she said, voice too harsh to her own ears, bouncing off the walls and clanging in her skull. Another bullet to the lungs.

The next thing she became aware of was the press of a cabinet knob against her back, the solidity of a hardwood floor underneath her body. She was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes level with the cabinet that Stiles had poked open over and over again to entertain Brooke all those weeks ago. Tonight, though, when she opened it herself, there was nothing inside.

Lydia clung to the knob anyway and tried not to cry.

It wasn’t Stiles who came to check on her after a few minutes, or Scott, or even Kira. Instead, Malia was the one who tugged the cabinet door out of Lydia’s hand and dropped to the floor, flinging her legs out to one side and meeting Lydia’s eyes without flinching.

“Kira started talking about BB-8 again,” she said. “Scott looked like he wanted to change the subject.”

Lydia pressed her lips together, looked away, and settled her hands on her knees with careful precision. “That was nice of her. I’m sure he did.”

“He told me, you know,” Malia continued without missing a beat. “About what you told him. About Stiles wanting you to sell the house.”

Lydia’s fingers clenched around the hem of her dress. “Yes.”

Malia narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to?”

“I have to,” Lydia said, “or Yvenne will just find another realtor.”

“Okay, maybe,” Malia said. “But who are you going to sell it to ?”

Lydia froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I know you’ve been considering it. You’ve been eyeing the curtains in the living room like you can’t wait to change them all night.”

“Maybe I just can’t believe Yvenne expects me to find a buyer for this house when it’s been decorated so poorly.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m more observant than you think, and I’m not Scott or Stiles. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

Slowly, precisely, Lydia tilted her head and met Malia’s piercing gaze. “You know what you’re saying, right? Scott and Stiles would try to stop me.”

“Yeah,” Malia said. “And that matters, because Lydia Martin always does what people tell her to do. And I had a normal childhood. And math was my favorite subject in high school.”

After a long moment, Lydia stood. Malia mimicked the movement. “I just think we’ve already lost enough people,” Lydia admitted. “I don’t want to lose him twice.”

“Like I said. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

For a while, Lydia told herself that she hadn’t made up her mind. She let Stiles cook her every meal and listened to him relive memories from high school and the two years of college he’d gotten to enjoy, doing his best to help her appreciate the times they’d shared together without losing herself in them. She fell asleep on the couch with him while they watched movies together and pretended that she didn’t know he’d been playing with her hair when she woke up. She allowed him to teach her how to cook and change the oil in her car, life skills that she’d always expected him to handle in their relationship, life skills he wanted her to master before he moved onto wherever he expected to go once he stopped being a ghost, but—

But then, on a Thursday afternoon a week before Yvenne’s deadline, Lydia’s phone rang.

They were in the middle of making stir fry, but Stiles nudged her with the spatula he was using—one loophole he’d found for their inability to make physical contact—and told her to answer it “just in case.” “It could be important, Lyds.”

That was precisely why she didn’t want to answer it, but with a long-suffering sigh and a pointed glare, Lydia wiped her hands off on a paper towel and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Lydia Martin? This is Shea O’Malley.”

Predictably and irksomely, Lydia’s heart rate increased. “What can I do for you, Shea?” she asked, smoothing on her realtor’s smile even though Shea couldn’t see. Between the way Stiles’s eyebrows were raised and the way his head was tilted so he could hear Shea’s half of the conversation, Lydia needed the extra armor.

“Well, Ben and Piper and I have been shopping around the neighborhoods near that lovely red house you showed us, but we simply haven’t found a place that compares. After a long discussion, Ben and I have decided that there’s no use searching any longer. We would like to place an offer on that red house.”

Lydia’s head was all white noise and bloodstains and terror. She tried to picture saying goodbye to Stiles and watching him dissolve into whatever dimension the rest of their dead loved ones had ended up in. She tried to imagine handing the keys over to the O’Malleys and leaving the red house for good. She tried to convince herself that it was possible for her to move on.

But like the O’Malleys, Lydia discovered that it was no use.

Once upon a time, it might have been possible for her to move on. But now Lydia’s heart was inextricably entwined with this red house.

The only difference was that Lydia had the ability to hold onto it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the white noise fading to a treacherous whisper. (So, basically nothing. Treacherous whispers were old friends in Lydia’s mind.) “You’re too late. The red house has already been sold.”

Stiles froze. Lydia froze, judging his reaction. Over the phone line, Lydia heard Shea’s breath catch, and then she sighed. “Are you certain there’s no chance of the buyer changing their mind? I mean, if we could place a counteroffer—”

“I’m afraid that there’s no amount of money you could offer that this particular buyer wouldn’t match,” Lydia said with as much gentleness as she could muster. The O’Malleys really were a nice family. “They’re quite dedicated, have a substantial savings account, and are at least as attached to the house as you are.”

Shea’s second sigh was only slightly less audible than the first. “Well, that’s it, then,” she said tiredly. “Thank you for all of your help, Lydia. We all thoroughly enjoyed meeting you the other day.”

“If you still haven’t found a different house in the next few weeks, let me know and I’ll help you keep looking. Free of charge,” Lydia blurted, because she was going to keep the house and Stiles and therefore she could afford to offer a little kindness to the family whose dream home she had just poached.

“Why, that’s very kind of you,” Shea said, oblivious to Lydia’s silent betrayal. “We may just take you up on that offer. Thank you again.”

And after the exchange of a few more pleasantries, she hung up.

“What the fuck?” Stiles said into the resulting silence. “A buyer made an offer on this house, and you didn’t tell me about it?”

Lydia set her phone on the counter. “You don’t really want me to leave.”

Stiles dropped his spatula. “What?”

“Come on, Stiles,” Lydia said. “Who do you think you’re talking to? If you really wanted me to move on, you never would have opened your mouth. I would have walked into this house on that first day, sold it, and walked right back out without ever knowing that you were here.”

“I—” Stiles spluttered. “I was surprised, and I just—”

“Maybe,” Lydia replied. “But that could have been it. I told you not to make it difficult for me to sell this house, and instead you scared off buyer after buyer until I figured out who you were. You say you want me to move on, but you’re here, Stiles. You’re standing right in front of me, and I’m never going to move on when I could have this instead!”

“What do you want me to say?” Stiles demanded. “Do you want an apology? Because I know you deserve one. I—I—I’m sorry for talking to you, I’m sorry for cooking you dinner, I’m sorry for being here! I didn’t mean to make this harder for you, and I’m sorry that I did! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“NO!”

It wasn’t a banshee scream, but it left Lydia hoarse and aching all the same.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she whispered. “I just want you to want me to stay.”

“Well, I am sorry, Lyds. And I can’t give that to you.”

“Stiles—”

“Pick up the phone, Lydia. Call the O’Malleys. Tell them the buyer changed their mind.”

Lydia took a deep breath and looked at the man who was the love of both her life and whatever came after that. “No.”

“Lydia.”

“No, Stiles! I’m not going to do that! These last few weeks have been the happiest weeks of the past ten years. You can’t honestly stand there and expect me to give that up.”

“That’s the thing, though,” he said. “I’m not actually standing here.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“But it should.” Stiles reached out, brushed his fingers through a loose strand of her hair, and then stepped away. “I might not be able to stop you from buying this house, but that doesn’t mean I have to give you a reason to live here.”

There was a whoosh, as if he was opening up that interdimensional doorway again, and then he disappeared.

On the stove, the stir fry began to burn.

(read the rest on ao3)

[insidetheacademy]

Say You Love Me || v

pairings: peter parker x reader (both are 18+!)

summary: y/n settles down in paris and met a new friend! also peter has a surprise

warnings: wet dREAAAMS

gif credits: tomholandd

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

-

the flight to Paris was okay except for a baby that was crying super loud. jeez, babies shouldnt be allow to travel you thought to yourself. after you had arrived, you went straight to this beautiful cottage that was apparently the company’s property. you said goodbye and thank you to the taxi driver and took a good look at the house infront of you. this is it, you’re gonna have to spend your time in this house for God knows how long.

you dragged your suitcase in and set it aside. you explored the interior of the house before going to the backyard. it was beautiful. there was a visible river and someone who used to lived here definitely took a good care of it since theres flowers and everything that you had seen in a fairytale. you werent gonna lie, you do feel like you’re a pauper. you took out your phone and captured the photo to upload to your Instagram. you captioned it “la vie en rose”, cliché but you had planned about taking photos and making your captions in french since you got on the airplane.

you head inside to take out all of your paintings essential. you felt inspired just by looking at the view there. you took one of the chair from the garden and sit down and started painting on your easel. you startled when you felt someone tapped your shoulder, you turned around and saw a tall pale man. he looks like he’s from around here.

“hey! y/n right?” he asked smiling wide, you took out your earphone “yeah? and who are you?” you asked confusingly, “Jules? we’re supposed to be working together?” he said trying to refresh your brain but you were still confused. “did they not tell you about me?” Jules asked, you shook your head and said a small sorry. you must have slipped over the email when they said that. you feel so stupid right now,

Jules explained everything and apparently he’s your new roommate. he was supposed to help you do a big painting for Claude Monet. you invited him inside to make a cup of tea for the both of you. “so, where are you from, Jules?” you cusped your teacup, “I live 30 minutes away from here. they wanted me to be here all the time to complete the painting as fast as possible and I couldnt say no,” Jules said.

after an hour and a half of talking with Jules, you really feel right at home with him. you two just met but you really feel a connection between him. you also found out that during his free time, he’s a guitarist and does gigs here and there to make extra pocket money. he said he’s in a band thats called “The Rejects Club” you laughed hard when he told you that because it sounded so high school-ish. but in his defence, he did say that the band formed when they were still in high school.

it was close to dinnertime, you didnt want to eat as you already eat a croissant that you quickly grabbed from the airport but Jules insisted to make cook for the both of you, you couldnt say no when his voice sounded so velvety and is like a warm cup of coffee with marshmallows on top. you were sitting on the couch with the both of your legs on top of the coffee table scrolling through instagram when Peter replied to your story, “how’s Paris so far?” he asked, “it was tiring but tomorrow’s gonna be more tiring,” you said.

whatever Jules was cooking definitely made your stomach growl with anticipation. you werent hungry but whatever he was making definitely made you hungry. you stood up from the couch to look at what Jules was cooking and it was pasta. to be accurate; an aglio olio. it smelled so delicious. you wanted to help so you took out the plates from the cupboard and set it down on the table.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“you know I love you right?” Peter said his lips nearing yours, you looked into his eyes and nodded. the kissed turned into a passionate and fiery kiss. he had your body against the wall, he was cusping your jaw with his left hand and the other underneath your shirt, you let out a moan and he squeezed tits.

“jump,” he said through the kiss and you obeyed not wanting to destroy the moment that you were having, he sets you down on the silk bed and continues to take of your clothes, he kissed from your collarbones to the place that you needed him the most, “y/n!” someone said, but you were so lost you thought it was Peter that was calling you but the familiar new voice kept coming closer and closer as you woke up.

you woke up with sweat forming on your forehead and your alarm ringing so goddamn loud, “jesus, are you okay?” Jules asked, “what time is it?” you looked around frantically trying to look for the clock, “its 10:30am! we were supposed to leave the house 15 minutes ago, y/n!” your eyes went wide and picked a floral strap dress and a cream coloured turtleneck. you went to the shower without having second thoughts.

you put your clothes on and quickly grabbed your shoes along with a pair of socks and your handbag. you locked the door and ran to Jules’ car. you were breathing heavily as you strapped your seatbelt on. “I can’t believe we’re late!” you said flabbergastedly, “yeah, I know! what time did you even go to bed?” Jules was clearly annoyed. seems like he’s the type of person to arrive right on time.

“I slept right after we had dinner! I don’t know why I couldn’t hear the alarm. God, I feel so stupid” You put your socks on and your shoes. You took out your lipstick and put them on. “Who is Peter, anyway?” Jules asked absentmindedly, you looked at him trying to find out how he knew that name and in hopes that he’s just fucking around but he’s not.

you closed your compact mirror, “he’s a friend of mine,” “a friend, huh?” Jules scoffed, “I didn’t know a friend moans another friend name in their sleep,” your face flushed with red as he said those words. “what the hell, Jules?! I could’ve went days without knowing that you heard me having wet dreams about my friend!” you cover your face in shame. you couldnt believe that he had hear you moaning Peter’s name

“Oh my gosh, I feel like I could just bury myself right here,” you said, “Relax, I’m not going to tell anyone,” Jules said taking your hands into his, giving you a warm smile.

you two had arrived at this building that was filled with paintings but not by those famous painters just paintings by painters that were starting out. “Ah darlings!” you heard a middle aged woman walking towards you with both of her hands wide open, obviously ready to hug the both of us to death.

“you must be Ms y/n!” she cupped your face and kissed your cheeks, what a weird way to greet somebody but thats how it is, “and you must be Jules!” she took a step back and took a good look of you and Jules’ faces. she introduced herself as Mrs. Autry. she walked the both of you around the office and explained about how everything works.

“I am so excited for the two of you to work with us,” she smiles warmly, “let me know if you need anything sweethearts!” she bid her goodbye and went to another direction. you and Jules walked to the nearest café and sat down there. you ordered a frappacino whilst Jules ordered a latte.

every now and then you somehow were reminded of how you dreamed of Peter. not only dreamed of him but in such an inappropriate way. you don’t like him anymore, you just don’t know why he’s haunting you this badly. should you stop being friends with him? it feels so awkward now that you dreamed of him banging you. “so what should we do?” Jules voice brought you back down to earth, you stuttered trying to come up with something.

he could tell by the look in your eyes that theres something wrong, “you know you can tell me anything right, y/n?” Jules said, he’s definitely good in reading someone’s body language. “i wont judge, y/n,” he reassures you, you took a deep breath and let everything out.

everytime you talked he would listen, he’s there for you, always looking into your eyes to keep the conversation going, you also mentioned about how Peter was a dick when he found out you were coming here, Jules said “what a dick, do you want me to punch him if he ever comes here?” Jules offered you then laughed at his attempt trying to make you feel better.

you both went home and went straight to each other’s room because you were so tired. you didnt realised how much walking there was gonna be today. you took out your phone and saw MJ messaged you, “hey!!! I have great news! I’m coming to Paris next month!” you smiled to yourself, woah, did MJ missed you that much already?

you typed back “I know you miss me but you don’t have to, you know?” “Haha, very funny, y/l/n,” you chuckled and asked her “why are you coming here?” a three dots appeared and her response was “I just wanted to go there and experienced a real trip. not like when we get to go there and it was cancelled,” you still remember when the school trip cancelled going to Paris because apparently they got “upgraded” to go to Prague.

you smiled when you remembered thats how you found out Peter was Spider-man. “well, you’re going to love Paris,” you replied to MJ. you also gave her your current home address in Paris so she can visit you! she thought it was a lovely idea.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

“can’t you please to do this for me, MJ?” Peter begged MJ, basically down on his knees. “fine! but if everything went wrong do not blame me!” MJ gave in. Peter was planning to meet you in Paris but he wants it to be a surprise. something you’re going to remember till you’re dead.

Peter have missed you so much and he swore he could go crazy if he couldn’t see your face for another month. Peter was so excited that you gave a thumbs up and that you even gave MJ your address in Paris. he wonders to himself what could go wrong?

“there, I’ve done it, now can you please leave?” MJ crosses her arms, pissed that Peter hadwoken her up in the middle of the night because he couldnt keep it in his pants about his “love” for you. atleast thats what MJ teased him about. he never quite really admit it but MJ could see it and told him that he’s not fooling anybody with those goo goo eyes.

“thank you, MJ. i’ll find a way to repay you. i promise.” Peter said while crouching on her window, “you better, Parker, or you wont see the light of day ever again.” MJ threatens jokingly at Peter. he laughs and there he goes, he shot his webs to another building.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

a/n: hi sorry i know this is short and boring but i have so much on my plate right now but to make it up, I’ll try to post the next chapter tonight or tomorrow! again so SORRY its boring skdjsks but please do leave your thoughts!

say you love me taglist:

@imawkwardandhereweare @canyonmoonspidey @thebadassbitchqueen @thequeenreaders @averyfosterthoughts @a--1--1--3

[letshaikyuu]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “When the FBI busted down my door, the last thing I was expecting to see was a hot, young agent. But then, our two worlds collided and I couldn’t let him leave my side.”

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: A FBI!Kuroo Tetsurou x Writer!Akaashi Keiji short fic

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of blood, crime scenes and any other material needed for mystery novels

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: This story is just me being inspired from a prompt that I have seen on Tumblr and decided that this pairing suited it the best.

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞  - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕

It is not surprising that at whatever Akaashi strived to do, he was always the best. When he was seven, he picked up drawing and happened to win a competition just a few months later. When he was fourteen, history was a subject he found intriguing and competed in for the rest of his school days. Pictures are plastered on his family's wall where he is holding up 'First place' trophies. So when he decided to pursue a Literature and Creative Writing degree, his family was more than welcome to support him with his dreams. He published a best-seller during his second year and his teacher assigned him as one of the assistants, offering him a spot as a professor when he finishes his Master's.

Akaashi was not interested in teaching. Even during university, he felt the stuffy air of the classroom and bustling voices of the other students to be very irritating and too much of a hassle for him. His parents paid extra to accommodate him in a single-bed dorm so he would have the most peace any university student would want. That dorm was the same place Akaashi wrote his second novel: 'The Lost Case of Neverland', a mystery novel he found very peculiar and interesting to write. That was when he decided to focus his talent on writing solely mystery novels.

There was no doubt that he was a very mysterious person himself. Even now, at 27 years of age and standing in an empty living room with boxes around him, Akaashi was still an enigma to many. He moved, rather out of the blue, to this little town called 'Brightwood'. Population 600, Brightwood was the perfect place for Akaashi to settle down and pursue further writing escapades. Finding a house that was affordable and isolated from the rest of the houses on the only street in town, he bid farewell to his parents and a handful of friends before moving.

Someone who had the needed amount of money to happily live in a big city has now moved to a run-down, closed-off town that hardly has anything going for it? It wasn't even located on the map. His parents were nervously awaiting for him to call and let them know that he had finally arrived at his new home, but what shocked them immensely was a text message from Keiji that was sent right before he entered the town:

'There is no signal in this town. You won't be able to reach me while I'm here.'

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

A few days have passed since the boxes have been neatly placed in the corner and minimal furniture found it's way into the house. The state of the house was not something to be proud of. House n.66 was the cheapest house in town. Once owned by an old couple that passed away from old age in said house, the state was awful. Floorboards that were creaking, the roof that was leaking and there was always a spider a day crawling its way out into the open. But, this was exactly what Akaashi was looking for.

'A mystery novel isn't a mystery novel until the writer puts himself in the character's shoes,' Akaashi would say to people who asked him how was he so good at writing mystery novels. All of his novels had this eerie feeling. It was not fit for a nightly read because they were terrifying, but they also never let you leave their content because of how engrossing they were. He couldn't count the number of times someone would ask him if he was possessed by a demon or if there's a ghost haunting his home. Akaashi would always say maybe.

His good looks were pleasuring for the eyes as well. A lot of women came up to Akaashi during book signing events and asked for an autograph on the weirdest of places. He was never able to hide his annoyance, but they always seemed to decipher that as something sexual and not the complete opposite. It usually took Akaashi getting dozens of numbers and sexual compliments to snap and ask that the book signing ends early. Even though his temper was unappealing to some, no one decided to leave his works because they were that amazing.

When the campaign for Akaashi's upcoming novel 'If I Were A Killer' started, people could hardly contain the excitement at the thought of another phenomenal novel in their hands. Rather unwillingly, Akaashi gave a short interview regarding the upcoming release and stated that if everything goes as planned, the novel should be published in a few months. He also added that he will be completely unavailable to the public eye for the time being so that he can finish his novel in peace. That interview was the last time Akaashi was seen in the public eye.

Now, with a cup of black tea in his hand and the fireplace quietly crackling in the background, Akaashi was ready to work on the final chapters of the novel. It was a novel that challenged him greatly as an author because it differed from his other work quite greatly. His editor was not too keen on this novel, it was too heavy to read and felt as if the storyline would be too difficult to understand:

'Akaashi-san, I don't think such a novel would be greatly appreciated in the public. It seems like it will be very hard to read-'

'I've already made my decision and the plot has already been developed. I do not plan on changing anything Furudate-san.'

'But Akaashi, isn't it extremely difficult to write someone who's a serial killer?'

He only smirked at the words of his editor and continued drinking his already cold tea. 'You don't know Furudate-san,' Akaashi glanced at his editor, something mysterious glinting in his eyes,' just how much that topic interests me.'

His editor didn't want to admit how the obvious coffee stain on his suit appeared. 'My hands were just shaking,' he said to the dry-cleaners, but the evil-like gaze he got from Akaashi was something he would never forget.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

It was proven to be a very easy task for Akaashi. Before moving to Brightwood, he spent hours researching everything there was to know about serial killers and their ways of work. From what triggered them to how they dispose of bodies. Akaashi had everything written down in his documents. One of the main reasons he moved to Brightwood is that his novel was set right in this little town. You could say that he was invested in this novel, paying attention to every single detail and writing it with such ease. So, when he found out about such a small town, he figured it was the perfect setting for his novel. What doesn't interest people more than a serial killer wreaking havoc in a small town like Brightwood, where everyone seems to 'know' their neighbors that well?

'When shit happens, everyone is everyone's enemy. Nobody is safe from the obvious hate and mistrust. Who was once drinking coffee in your backyard is now suspected of murder? Who was once dropping newspapers on the street is now sentenced to life in prison? Can you trust the people living with you? How can we be so sure of what's going on in another person's mind? Life wouldn't be this interesting if we knew everything, would it?'

The night was very calm, the perfect fit for Akaashi to add something new to his ever-growing novel. The complete silence would be nerve-wracking for most, but it suited Akaashi perfectly. He enjoyed not hearing the bustling noise he couldn't get rid of in his dorm or continuous shuttering of cameras during promotion periods. He was alone with his thoughts. Perfect for writing mystery novels with serial killers. Once he finished writing the predicted part for today, Akaashi closed his laptop and went to drop off his dirty dishes in the sink. He was crossing the hallway with his empty mug in hand when he heard a commotion on the street. 'There must be some kind of party going on out there,' Akaashi shook his head at the thought, thinking back to the day he first moved to this town. The neighbors were quick to welcome him and offer any kind of needed help. They were also preparing a welcoming party for the newcomer, but once Akaashi found out about it, he immediately shut it down and said he wasn't the type for parties.

'Maybe that's why nobody has visited me these past few days.'

While he was thinking back to his neighbors, the commotion outside was becoming clearer and louder. It started to feel like they were right outside his door, banging up a storm. To Akaashi, the constant noise reminded him of pencil tapping on the desks in his university classes, just much more boosted. He could feel his brain pulsating in his head, any kind of loud noise irritates him greatly and his annoyance starts to show. Trying to calm himself down as much as possible, he took a deep breath and continued his way to the kitchen. Not even a step further, his front door was suddenly on his floor. The entrance was completely bare. It should be showing the clear night sky, but all Akaashi saw were dozens of people dressed in black, equipped with heavy machinery. Unceremoniously, the empty mug was shuttered on the ground and Akaashi was down on his knees with unknown people surrounding him.

'FBI! DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW AND HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!'

The last thing Akaashi saw before his head and body were forcefully pinned to the ground was the shattered mug on the floor and a mop of messy black hair. He looked too hot in Akaashi's eyes and it wasn't fair that he got to wear that smug smirk on his face while Akaashi was here mopping the floor with his body. Akaashi isn't a puppet. He was always the puppeteer.

══════════════════

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @mysticrainpain​ @kawaiibaka96​ @kashika​ @brokutoforever​ @shangyinn-ig​ @miyulovestowrite​ @heccingdead​ @kellyyween​ @death-waves-to-me​ @bareeganbaree​ @caxsthetic​ 

[delaneytveit]

Satellites part 4

Lol so apparently I never uploaded ch 4 and 5 on here. (5 &6 on ao3) MY BAD GUYS, THAT AS ON ME. but um, here is Satellites ch 4! Hop you like it!

Also classes have been going on for like 2???3??? weeks and I'm already behind. which, like what else is new. But my birthday is on Tuesday so I've got that going for me. Anyways, back to our poorly scheduled program.... *  ( part 3) (Satellites Master Post) (Part 5)

Lance awoke again, chained to a bed in the all too familiar lab. Knowing all too well where he was.

He knew what he would see if he were to allow his eyes to follow where the IV in his arm led to. He knew the exact layout of the lab he was in. Knew which tools were out and which ones they would likely use. Knew the feeling of his limbs. heavy with whatever drugs they were pumping him with, being strapped down just in case. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fight back, they knew it too. But if these experiments they had been doing taught them anything, it was that these so called scientists knew absolutely nothing about human biology.

They didn’t think he would fight back at all, or maybe they did. He didn’t really know. He knew he didn’t look like he would, he had always been a person of words rather than actions, talking himself out of or through situations. Situations in which his words were all that was left. But here, words meant death.

Not for him, no, he wasn’t afraid of death. Not anymore. This was war, he was fighting in a war. And people die in war. He’d seen it. More importantly, for many, he had caused it. And he refused to be the cause of the deaths of his friends.

He didn’t like to dwell on that, he’d just spiral again, but he had to acknowledge the fact that he had done some royally fucked up things. Things he’d rather no one, not even his team know. Coran knew.  He'd been the one to fully recruit Lance, side missions that in some cases were more important than the battles themselves. Allura knew the political half, the diplomatic half of the missions, but Coran and Lance took care of the less desirable half. The half that left whoever was in the way of the Coalition with a bullet between their eyes.

He remembered all of them. Every single mission, every shot, every confirmed kill. They were etched into his mind with such vivid horror that they haunted his dreams every night. God, if his mamá knew what he was doing up here. If his mamá knew that he was currently strapped to a table, drugged out of his mind, bruised and beaten and bloody. Experimented on and tortured for information.

Before he could think anymore, the door opened. He had quelled his hope long ago that his friends would be the ones on the other side, that they would be the ones storming in to save him. Instead, like every other time, a druid made their way into the room.

“Awake now, are we?” they asked, he could hear the snarl in their voice. How he wanted to tell them off, to just keep talking until he had run out of words, he needed to. But talking meant death for his friends, he could slip up, and any information was still information. No matter how minuscule it could seem, it could still be used to bring down his friends. So he kept his mouth shut.

They laughed at that as they moved along the room, picking up different tools. It was all an act, Lance knew that much. He knew that whoever this was, they would have had their preferred method already decided before they even walked through the door. He just hoped he would black out soon.

+

It took almost no time getting onto the ship, and by the sound of the comms, it seemed that Keith and Hunk were doing just fine distracting the ship. So good in fact, that it was eerily empty when Shiro and Pidge made their way on board.

Pidge pulled out her tablet and after a few seconds of typing looked up to Shiro. “I’ve got him!”

They followed the map on the tablet, down countless hallways, winding and turning, they were sure that without the DNA tracker, they would have gotten lost hallways ago.

They were just about to round the last corner when something caught Shiro’s eye, and he quickly pulled the small girl back before she would walk any farther.

“Shiro, what the h-” He cut her off by covering her mouth with his palm. He motioned with his other hand to stay quiet, and only removed his hand when she nodded in acknowledgement.

There at the door to what Shiro guessed was Lance’s cell, stood two Galran guards, alert and ready. The more he looked at where they stood, and the hallway around him the more he had doubts about where they actually were.

“Pidge, where are we on the map?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

The small paladin looked up at him in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Lance is a prisoner, meaning he’d be held in a cell right?” he asked, earning a nod from the green paladin. He took one more survey of where they stood before shaking his head. “This doesn’t look like a prison.”

“Shiro, any luck? We’re kind of not doing so hot out here!” Hunk boomed over the coms, startling Pidge so much that she jumped, banging her elbow on the metal wall she was standing against.

The sound reverberated through the hallway, earning the attention of the Galran guards.

“Who’s there?” one of them bellowed, walking towards where the sound came from.

“I hope you have a plan,” Pidge whispered to Shiro as he pushed her behind him, simultaneously taking step forward, leaning his back on the wall.

“Always. Whether it will work or not is a different matter.” He waited until the Galra ran to the corner he was hiding behind before shooting his hand out to grab the guard by the neck, slamming him into the wall. The first guard went down quickly, it was the second one that he had trouble with, as he began shooting the moment he turned the corner. Pidge used her bayard to loosen his hold on the gun before Shiro was able to knock the guy out with one punch.

“Well, now that that part is done…” Hurriedly they ran over to the room, now no longer protected. Using Shiro’s Galra arm on the pad, they easily opened the door.

“We’re in guys!” Pidge informed over the comms.

“Get him and get out, they’re calling reinforcements in too quickly!” Keith called, out of breath as more shots were heard over the com.

Shiro stepped into the room first, taking quick note that he was in fact right. This was no holding cell. The table in front of him housing restraints for each appendage, the cart that held bloodied devices that only made his stomach want to rise up his throat. This room was definitely not a holding cell. It was a torture chamber. And by the mass of dark red blood on the ground, it was used quite often.

“He’s not here.” Pidge whispered in horror as Shiro continued to scan the room for any signs of their missing paladin.

“The fuck do you mean he’s not there? I thought you said you were tracking him. Look harder.” Keith yelled, making Pidge flinch in response.

“Cool it Keith, she’s right. He’s not here. Pidge, you got anything?”

The Green Paladin shook her head, studying the holographic map on her wrist. “The DNA tracker says that he’s here. He should be here.”

Shiro turned his head to look at the puddle of drying blood on the floor. He was here, Lance had been there, and the amount of blood he had lost was enough for the scanner to consider it his person.

In that moment, Shiro had never been more terrified. Because if Lance had lost that much blood, was there any way he could have survived? He didn’t know how much blood loss was too much, but he had a sinking feeling that it was much less than what was spilled on the floor.

“Shiro? What’s the plan?”

[mystrangerfics]

Please Stay With Me

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader 

Description: @hargrovesprincess - Requested prompts 10. “I’m right here, okay?” 27. “Please stay with me.” 31. “Can I kiss you?” ? 

Word Count: 5364

Complete Story Warnings: Language, Violence, Blood 

__ __ 

You and Billy had broken up unceremoniously at the end of the school year. You were going off to college and he had explained rather bluntly that he had no intention of waiting for your return. You had understood, having been with Billy for almost a year, you knew who he was but you still had been unable to deny the stinging sensation in your eyes and the aching in your chest when you had gotten out of his Camaro. You still had the summer before heading off for college, which was why you were so surprised Billy had already ended your relationship. You did your best to avoid him, which meant never going to the Hawkins pool and barely hitting the Starcourt Mall at night. It seemed he was everywhere and even though you had tried your hardest not to grow attached, you had without even knowing. You missed the late night car rides, making out in the back of his car and the small smile he would give you when looking into your eyes. Billy had drawn you in and now you were left alone. You just kept telling yourself that you knew this was going to happen and that you needed to just get over it. 

“I could tell you a million times that you knew what you were getting yourself into but I know that doesn’t help,” Steve mumbled as he sat across from you. You sighed and looked around the diner, it was mostly empty as it was close to closing time. “I’m surprised he broke it off this early but maybe he figured it would be easier,” Steve suggested before he finished his fries and you fiddled with a straw, gently tearing off one end of the wrapper. 

You looked to him with his hair disheveled, you had always been close to Steve, having grown up together as neighbors and being born only a few weeks apart, he was the closest thing you had to a sibling. 

“I’m going to have to watch you closer when we go to college,” he mumbled playfully, making you blow the straw wrapper at him. He smiled at you for a moment before it looked more sentimental and concerned. “I’m sorry about all this.” 

“It’s my own fault,” you admitted but kept on a small smile. “Like Billy Hargrove was going to have feelings for me or something,” you joked with a small laugh and Steve only smiled slightly at you. “So, where have you been anyway? If I don’t see you here for our Monday dinners you’re never around,” you looked at Steve suspiciously. 

“I’ve uh-,” Steve looked away from you and scratched the back of his head, seeming to buy time. “Just been hanging with Dustin.” 

“You’re a horrible liar,” you admitted after a moment but shrugged. You knew Steve would never keep anything major from you, he usually shared everything with you that mattered.  You tossed the straw at your empty plate and sighed, glancing out the window. 

“(Y/N), listen,” Steve began, drawing your attention back from the window but you were suddenly cast into darkness. You looked up at the fluorescent bulbs that no longer glowed and then looked out the window again. Everything was dark, all the buildings and street lights were out. 

“What the fuck is happening?” You asked as you slid out of the booth and took a few steps towards the exit of the diner. You listened to the nearly dead quiet world outside as it seemed like everyone else listened too. 

Time seemed frozen before a loud scream pierced through the silence, then more and suddenly there was chaos. “Steve!” You paused before hearing another scream. “Steve!” You turned quickly and saw your friend rush over to you.

“Get to my car!” Steve hollered as you both rushed out the door. The sound of chittering and screeching filled your ears when you exited the diner, along with a loud blaring sound. 

There was a pause in the car as Steve quickly drove through town. People were running from their homes, driving like mad down the streets and it seemed like everyone in Hawkins had lost their minds. Fear sunk into your throat and you reached over into the drivers seat for Steve’s hand. “What in the world is happening?” You whispered so quietly before panic surged into your chest as you saw a body lying on a lawn, the persons shirt soaked in blood. “Steve, what the fuck is happening?!” 

 “I have to take you home and go check on the kids!” Steve said as he quickly pulled onto your street and brought you to your house.

“You’re going to leave me here?!” You asked, bewildered. “Take me with you!” You said, looking at your dark house, it now seemed haunting. “My parents aren’t home and I don’t want to be alone with all this going on!” You tried but Steve only shook his head frantically.

“You’ll just be another person I’ll have to look out for!” He tried and you took slight offense to that and glared a little. “(Y/N), come on! I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve tried as you got out of his car and slammed the door. He called your name again as you walked towards your house but you unlocked the door and went in, slamming it. He debated going in to try and talk to you but the radio in his glove compartment crackled to life with Dustin’s voice and he knew he had to go. 

“Asshole,” you muttered to yourself as you sat down your bag by the door. You turned and quickly locked the bolt lock and double checked the handle was locked as well. You were interrupted by the sound of something smashing down the hall and scuttering. “Mom?” You paused. “Dad?” The sound of movement instantly stopped upon your words being spoken. “Fuck,” you whispered to yourself and looked around quickly before you stumbled into the living room and grabbed up a fire poker. You gripped it tightly and swallowed, trying to wet your throat. “If someone's in here you better show yourself!” You tried to sound brave but your hands were shaking as they held onto the wrought iron rod. 

You slowly walked towards the stairs, stepping up onto the landing that had another set of steps that went down into your kitchen. You leaned over, trying to hear anything when a shadow appeared on the floor at the bottom. You refrained from letting out the scared noise that jumped up into your throat. The shadow came closer and soon enough an odd creature faced you and opened its mouthful of teeth, roaring, you screamed. 

__ __ 

Billy drove quickly through the streets, the radio was telling everyone to stay indoors and not to go outside. Saying there was an incident where a pack of animals were attacking people, rabid wolves or something. Billy couldn’t really follow the story that he already knew to be some sort of lie. He had seen one of the creatures they were trying to call wolves and it was no animal Billy had ever heard of. He didn’t know what had come over him but after killing the animal with his crowbar he had jumped into his vehicle and sped off to your house. 

Billy slammed into your driveway before parking his car and jumping out as soon as he shut off his Camaro. “(Y/N)?!” Billy hollered as he ran at full speed up your walkway and into your door. He banged his hands against the door and hollered your name again. He quickly looked around before seeing the line of rocks along your mothers flower bed. He picked up the first one he got to and threw it through one of the small windows by your doorway. He punched his hand carelessly through the broken glass and hissed at the nicks as he unlocked your door. “(Y/N)? Where are you?” He asked as he quickly walked into your living room, he stopped when he saw blood on the carpet and looked around the room. A dead creature laid on the platform of your stairs and a trail of blood leading up the steps. Billy called your name as he quickly followed the trail.

Billy reached the top of the stairs and looked down the hall to your bedroom door, being more than familiar with where it was. “Billy?” He heard your weak voice and looked down, seeing you leaned back against the wall, your hand resting against your stomach, caked in blood. A fire poker was gripped in your weak fist beside you, covered in blood and the slimy substance from the creature on the platform below. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Billy quickly dropped to his knees and rested his hand on yours, looking at your panicked expression. He knew he needed to calm you down but he also felt himself beginning to panic as well. He took in how bloody your shirt was and the dark crimson spot on the rug beside where you were leaning on the wall. You also looked pale and your eyes seemed unfocused. “I’m right here, okay?”

You nodded but looked at him confused. “What are you doing here?” You asked as he slowly pulled your hand away from your stomach. You saw his expression grew even more concerned and he quickly got up and ran into your bathroom. You heard things banging around and clattering to the floor as he desperately searched the room. He came back quickly and kneeled beside you again with a towel and alcohol. 

“I’m just going to clean you up a little and then we’re going to the hospital,” Billy stuttered out nervously as his hands shook.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you mumbled and nervously eyed the bottle. “Billy, please don’t?” You whimpered as he took off the cover. 

“It’s going to help,” he said before he removed your hand from your stomach. He felt you grip his hand tightly before he poured it over your stomach. He felt you grip his fingers painfully tight before you screamed and whined. “I know, I know,” Billy said before his eyes watered a little. “It’s okay. Baby, it’s okay,” he whispered and brushed your hair back from your face. Your eyes opened but only a little and you wouldn’t look into Billy’s. “Baby, come on, look at me!” Billy whined and gently took your face into his hands, holding your head up. “Please stay with me,” Billy begged as he looked at your fading eyes. 

Billy wrapped the towel around your middle and put pressure onto your stomach. “Baby, come on,” he tried as his eyes poured over. “I’ve missed you so much. Don’t do this,” he begged as he cradled your face between his palms. He saw you finally look at him with your eyes nearly closed and leaned in, pressing a gentle peck to your lips. “You’re going to be okay,” he told you before he picked you up. He held you tightly in his arms as he brought you out to his car and quickly took off towards the hospital. 

__ __ 

Your eyes slowly opened and you felt groggy. It took you sometime to be fully aware of your surroundings but once you were you felt a warmth beside you that drew your attention. You slowly shifted your head to the side to be faced with a head full of blonde curls. You vaguely remembered Billy showing up at your house and saw his boots and jeans. His signature jean jacket was draped over your arms as he lay beside you, his face pressed gently into the side of your arm. You admired his resting face for a moment and was reminded of how much you truly had adored him. 

You could only enjoy the moment for a few seconds as Billy shifted in his sleep and his eyes blinked open. He gently shifted against you with a yawn before glancing up to your face. "You're awake," he said quickly and sat up to get a better look at you. 

"What happened?" You asked, your mind a bit hazy as you tried to remember the events that put you in the hospital bed. "What was that weird creature?" 

"Uh," Billy said before palming the back of his neck, stretching a little. "The news and doctors are saying they're some sort of mutated animals but they don't know where they came from. Most of them seem to be gone now," Billy explained with a small shrug. 

You shook your head a little and blinked hard as your mind recalled the strange creature. "Hey," you heard Billy's quiet voice and opened your eyes, looking at him. "It's going to be okay," he assured and gently took your hand in his. 

"I was surprised to see you," you admitted quietly before shifting your eyes down from his gaze. 

"I just-," Billy started before stopping. He looked away a little before looking down at his hand that was holding yours. "You were the first thing that came to my mind when it started. It was like I was possessed. I knew something was wrong and I had to get to you. I don't know what happened," he mumbled. 

There was a pause in the room as neither of  you spoke. You didn't know what to say to Billy. He hadn't really admitted much to tell you he still had feelings, you knew he could deny it if you mentioned that he might. 

"Well, thank you," you said quietly after a few more moments. Your eyes glanced up to his face but he was still looking at your hand in his. 

"I should have never ended us," Billy nearly whispered and you felt like you had swallowed your own tongue as your throat tightened up. "I should have been with you, protected you," he rambled as he still kept his gaze down. "I would have never let this happen," he added. 

"Billy, you didn't know this was going to happen," you whispered, unable to find your voice. 

"That doesn't change anything," Billy said bitterly but it seemed directed more at himself than you. "You always did that. You always defended my actions." He said with a sigh. 

"Because you're too hard on yourself sometimes," you argued back with a small frown. Billy finally lifted his eyes and looked into yours a little. "Billy, you saved me and you didn't have to. How are you going to sit there and talk bad about yourself?" 

"Because if I had stayed with you, I would have been there. I could have stopped this from happening," he explained, motioning to your stomach. 

"Billy, you didn't want to. Don't blame yourself for not staying with someone you no longer cared about," you retorted. 

"But I did care and I do care. It's just-," he cut off and seemed to raise his shoulders in discomfort, his face scrunching up in unison. "You're leaving. You're going to college. You're leaving Hawkins and you're leaving me," he said, his eyes focused back on your hand in his. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, shocked at his words. "I wasn't leaving you, Billy," you quietly said. "I wanted to stay," you tried. 

"You're not giving up college for me," he quickly said and shook his head. "You need to go. I'm not letting you throw that away." 

"Billy I-,” you wanted to tell him that you could go to college and come back, that it could work, that you could be together but the door banged open to your room, cutting you short. You looked over to see Steve walking in. You frowned seeing stitches running up his arm and near his hairline. He was banged up and had bruises littering his skin. 

“The nurse just told me,” was all Steve said as he came over to you and carefully pulled you into a hug. Billy's jacket fell from where it had been draped over your arms as you wrapped them around Steve. “I’m so sorry that I left you alone,” Steve nearly whimpered as he hugged you tightly. 

“It’s okay, Steve,” you said quietly and closed your eyes for a moment,  appreciating that your best friend was still with you. You felt the bed shift as Billy stood from it, walking over towards the window. “What happened to you? Are the kids alright?” 

“They’re all okay for the most part. Few stitches here and there but nothing major,” Steve said as he let you go and finally leaned back a little, sitting on the bed. 

“What the hell is wrong with this town?” Billy muttered bitterly as he glared at Steve a bit. You knew Billy was mad that Steve had interrupted and the two had never been close by any means. “Every year there’s something weird going on and it’s like you and those kids are always in the middle of it.” 

“I don’t know what you mean. I just went to make sure they were alright,” Steve said and once again you could tell your best friend was lying but you didn’t push it. If Steve wasn’t telling you something, it was for a good reason. 

“Steve’s unlucky,” you muttered to Billy before shrugging a little. “Plus the kids are all close to Will who went missing and was really sick last year. There’s just a lot happening with them,” you said, trying to push the conversation back a little. 

“I’ve gotta make sure the kids are alright. Some of their parents haven’t made it yet. I’ll come back to see you,” Steve said before he pulled your hand up and kissed it softly. You nodded and gave him a small smile, trying to make him feel a little better. “Love you,” Steve whispered. 

“I love you too,” you whispered back and wrapped your arms around his shoulders once more when he gently held your sides. He seemed to reluctantly get up from the bed before leaving the room. 

“So you and Harrington a thing now?” Billy muttered, drawing your attention back to him.

“No!” You said, nearly wanting to laugh at the statement. 

“Tommy told me you both are going to the same college and all,” he admitted before he sat in the chair next to your bed, slouching down into it. “That your father made sure of it.” 

“My father loves Steve. He’s family,” you explained with a shrug. “We’ve been together since we were in diapers. He knows Steve will keep an eye on me.”

“Oh, so he's your babysitter,” Billy said, a joking, sarcastic tone coated his voice. 

“I’m not above acting like I don’t do stupid stuff sometimes, especially when drinking,” you said truthfully. “I’m glad he’s going. I’ll have someone I know there,” you admitted. 

“Stupid stuff when drinking?” Billy muttered. “Are you hinting back to when we got together?” He had this face that said he was amused with your attempt to hurt his feelings but he also looked bitter. You both had met at a party and after too many beers and once he noticed Harrington wasn’t hanging around you, Billy had made his move and got to take you home. 

“No!” You said before sighing and rubbing at your eyes. “Billy, I just meant that I’m glad I’ll have someone there with me that I know will look out for me,” you tried to explain further. 

“Yeah because he does such a great job,” Billy muttered as he looked to you laying in the hospital bed. He moved his gaze away from you and sighed. “He doesn’t do good enough. Some guy could kick his ass in a fight. I know, it’s easy.” 

“I think Steve is aware that he could have his ass kicked in a fight but you know what?” You said, growing a little bitter with Billy’s attitude towards Steve. “The fact that he would still fight someone for me, knowing it wouldn’t end well for him, means more,” you reasoned. 

“So why don’t you just go fuck him!?” Billy shouted and motioned wildly with his arms and your eyes widened at his sudden outburst. 

“Billy, are you seriously jealous of Steve?! Steve Harrington!?” You said as you sat yourself up in bed, he tried to make you lay back but you pushed his hand away. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?! That’s what it all was! You found out that I was going off to college with Steve and you thought I would leave you for him!” 

Billy remained quiet and stared down at his boots. “Billy,” you said sympathetically and with a frown. You had never seen Billy look so pained in all your time together and it was nearly breaking your heart. 

“I don’t pretend to think I’m better for you than he is,” Billy quietly said after a moment. “I thought I could just let you go but I can’t,” he admitted and surprised you by looking up at you, staring into your eyes. “I kept seeing you in town,” he said and sat down on the bed beside you again. “It was like, for a split second I would smile, thinking you were mine before I’d remember, you aren’t anymore.” 

You frowned before slowly reaching forward and grabbing Billy’s hand in yours. “I never wanted to be anyone else's.” 

“I’m not right for you,” Billy quietly said but he rested his other hand on top of yours that held his. “You’re amazing and smart and kind and funny,” he mumbled. “I’m none of those things.” 

You frowned and felt a painful jab in your chest when Billy said his last sentence. “Billy, you are all of those things,” you whispered. “I wouldn’t have even passed geography or biology if it wasn’t for you!” You admitted to him. Billy had always managed to play the part of someone that didn’t care about school but he was brilliant and when you had seen him get multiple high marks in the classes you were suffering in you had begged him to help you. “You have a good heart. It’s just hidden under a lot of pain,” you whispered. 

You swore you saw a watering in Billy’s eyes as he still looked down. “Can I kiss you?” He asked finally, looking up into your face and leaving you slightly shocked. 

You wanted to scream with all your might that he could but your mind flashed through every kiss you had ever shared with Billy along with every sad moment you had been through without him. Billy had managed to take over your feelings slowly when you both had been together. It was like he had made you love him before you even knew what was happening. You had just been laying in the back seat of his car in your shorts and bra when you’d looked up to him sitting in the driver's seat. He had been nodding his head to the music and smoking his cigarette lazily while he looked at your painted toenails on his center console. When he had reached for your foot you had waited for him to tell you to respect his car and sit up right but he didn’t. He gently took your foot in his hand and rubbed it a little as he continued to admire the nailpolish you had perfectly painted with a soft smile on his face. That was the moment you realized Billy Hargrove actually had a heart and he had stolen yours as well. 

Your eyes watered up as you looked to him and you shook your head a little. “No,” you whimpered. “Because if you do I’ll never want you to stop again.” You admitted this to Billy before hanging your head, feeling pathetic for telling him how weak he made you. You couldn’t just have one kiss, you wanted every kiss, you wanted all of Billy. 

Billy slowly shifted himself closer to you and his hand came up, holding your chin softly. He raised your face to look at him and you did, letting him see how destroyed you felt. “Who said anything about stopping?” He asked in a low voice that neared a whisper and his warm breath touched your face, making you close your eyes for a moment. You reveled in the closeness of Billy’s body with yours and his warm breath touching your face like it had many times before. “I want to be the one that gets to kiss you, everyday, for the rest of our lives,” he said, making your eyes water even more. 

“Billy,” you quietly whispered, the skin on your lips nearly brushed against his and in that moment, any argument you had, had drifted from your mind. You tipped your head and closed your eyes, just waiting for the unmistakable pressure of his lips. 

Billy’s hand left your chin only for his fingertips to ghost up your jaw before he rested his palm against your cheek. You felt his slightly calloused thumb wipe away a tear under your eye before the gentle warmth of his lips greeted yours. Your arms slowly came up and wrapped around his neck, holding him close to you, like he may slip away at any second and leave you with nothing but a dream. 

The kiss was soft and slow, perfect for your aching heart. Billy pulled away after a moment and looked into your eyes in a way he never had before and it left you breathless. He gently reached his hand up and brushed back a piece of your hair, continuing to look at you. 

"You better not forget me at college," he whispered with a slightly worried expression. 

"I'm pretty sure I could never forget you," you admitted with a soft smile. 

"Good," Billy said with his own little smile. He gently laid back next to you and carefully pulled you into his arms. You sighed contently as you were back to where you wanted to be, close to Billy and in his arms. 

__ __ 

"So you've got everything? Your favorite denim shorts? Your Walkman? That perfume I like?" Billy asked you as he carried your bag out to Steve's car that was parked on the road between your house and Steve's. You were both leaving today and Billy hadn't left your side since last night when he got to your house. 

"Yes," you said with playful annoyance in your tone. "Oh but wait," you said before you opened a zipper on the bag he was carrying. You pulled your perfume from the bag and sprayed a little onto yourself as Billy put the bag in the trunk, having zipped up the pocket. He seemed to readjust some stuff in the car when you heard a pop and a whirring sound. You raised an eyebrow but Billy didn't seem to hear it and just put his hand in his pocket.

You hugged onto him when he turned around and he breathed you in, letting your smell and the perfume fill his senses. It nearly made his eyes water but he held it in, not ever liking to cry in front of anyone. 

"I'm really going to miss you," he said quietly into your hair before he tilted back a little to place a kiss on your neck. He sniffled the tiniest bit and your heart warmed even more towards him. 

"I'm going to miss you too," you said before pulling back and kissing him sweetly, holding it for a moment. Your eyes watered a little and you wiped at them as you pulled away, Billy subtly brought his hand to his face, wiping under his own eyes. "Keep this," you told him as you held out the little bottle of perfume. 

Billy smiled a bit and took the bottle from you. "So I can have your smell all the time," he said with a little smirk before putting it in his jacket pocket. He then slipped the ring from his middle finger and placed it onto your thumb. "This will help you think of me." 

You smiled sweetly at him and was honestly surprised by the gesture, Billy had never taken that ring off as long as you'd known him. "I don't think I'll need any help but I'll be happy to have a piece of you with me." You wrapped your arms around Billy's shoulders one more time and he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, nearly lifting you from the ground. "I'll be back at Christmas," you assured but weren't sure if it was for him or you.

"Be safe and call me every chance you get," Billy mumbled and you smiled a bit. You knew this was Billy's own way of telling you he loved you and you took it by placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Alright, love birds! Break it up!" You heard Steve call as he came over with his backpack over his shoulder. 

You slowly pulled away from Billy to stand beside him and face Steve. You felt Billy instantly grab your hand and hold it in his between you both and smiled a little. "What could you possibly have in that bag?! You packed more than me!" 

"Snacks, tunage, drinks and," Steve said, pausing to unzip the front and pull out a paper pamphlet. "A map! You're navigating," he said and pointed at you as he went around to get in the car. 

"I thought I was driving!?" You retorted with a playfully mad face. 

"You know my ass can't follow a map!" Steve said before he got into the car. 

"Maybe less drum solos on the dash and actually following the map?" You said before he closed the door. You smiled when you saw his hand come up to flip you off. 

"I've gotta go," you said with a little pout at Billy who finally let go of your hand. "I'll call you when we get there to let you know we made it," you told him. 

Billy seemed to want to say something but he held it in and settled for pulling you into one last kiss. "Bye, baby," he said after pulling back and letting you go. 

"Bye," you said as you went around the car. You gave him a little wave and smile before getting in. Steve started the car and rolled the windows down.

"Don't worry, Hargrove. I'll keep an eye on her," Steve assured as he looked up to Billy standing by the car. 

"Thanks, Harrington," Billy said with a small smile at Steve. You were surprised to see Billy thank Steve but knew he'd been trying hard to get along with him. 

"See you at Christmas," Steve said before shooting a small wave and taking off. 

You turned in your seat to see Billy still standing on the curb, watching the car go down the road. You sent him a wave and smiled at him, almost saddened. He returned it and you continued to watch him until you turned a corner and he was out of sight. 

"I love you," Billy said quietly as the back of the car disappeared from view and he could no longer see you. He swayed a little in his spot before he grabbed his keys from his pocket and trudged over to his car. He started his Camaro and reached into his other pocket, pulling out your bottle of perfume and the Polaroid he had snuck of you when he was in the back of Steve's car. He looked at it now that it had developed and smiled at it. You stood looking down the road with the sun in your face and a content gaze. He reached forward and stuck the photo into a crevice on his dash so it wouldn't blow away and looked at it. 

Billy nodded to himself as he placed your perfume safely into the glovebox and shifted his car into reverse. He backed out of your driveway and took off towards home. He found that for the first time in a long time, he was excited for Christmas. 

__ __

Tag List: @jasonscotttrash @shieldmaiden25 @buckysjuicyplums

[saintheartwing]

Invader Zim: The Pigshit Troll, Part One

Dib didn't like Zim's creative writing stories, and he made that clear to everyone. Now everyone is sure he's the troll going around blasting other people's work and writing horrible, awful things. With his reputation cratered and people despising him...what's to be done? 

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Creative writing! One of the best, easiest ways to express yourself in the school setting. It would be a nice and simple way to boost one's grade point average, too.

But it also told people a lot about the sort of person you were, and that was as clear as could be when it came to the "student" called Zim. Dib was very well aware of that. He scowled a bit as he looked through some of the stories Zim had written, all of them were made available on the school's website just like his was or Zita or Sara or his own sister Gaz's, and there were distinct personalities shining through. Dib had spent a long time reading them in his room, his black, scythe-like hair slicked back a little, adjusting his glasses, wearing his usual black jacket as he looked the stories over.

Gretchen had a lot in common with him. She too liked to write mysteries or science fiction tales. Stories of the fantastic. One particular story had a distinct "Carrie" esque influence, a rather homely-looking girl finding out she had psychic powers and was trying to learn "how to blow shit up with my MIND" as she kept saying to her friends and family around her. It actually ended up working, a Poop cola can shaking about on the table to a pineapple and a watermelon getting blown apart to, at long last, the principal's car going up in a glorious bang right before his eyes, thereby ensuring that she would never, ever again get sent to detention or his office for anything.

Sara's stories showed her strict Catholic upbringing, there was much emphasis on guilt, forgiveness, redemption and religion. She had, however, also shown a clear talent in action schlock, FUN action schlock. Dib was surprised to find himself enjoying her tales of the Saints that she'd adapted into stories for others to read, Saint Sebastian taking more arrows than Boromir in Lord of the Rings, Peter racing for his life to escape a hostile city that wanted to kill him, ducking down every grimy alley he could find, and, of course, her magnum opus was on Saint George, the famous "dragon slayer". Not only did she detail a fantastic fight, but George's refusal to renounce his faith, terrible torture sessions, being sliced and diced on a wheel of swords that STILL didn't kill him before finally being decapitated on a city wall. Sara had clear talent for gripping your attention.

Gaz however, loooooved to write horror stories. One particular story stood out. He was in it. Investigating a haunted house, Gaz had written that Dib had heard a grandfather clock chime when the house had been abandoned for over a hundred years, and the clock couldn't still be working. All of the parts were long since rusted and broken down. Then, he was chased by an axe wielding ghost, cracking through the floor, down into a big dungeon…where even more axe wielding ghosts laid in wait! The ending was a horrible twist one too. He woke up in his bed, all of it had clearly been a dream…until you saw the "OR HAD IT?" at the end, with a special illustration she'd made of Dib holding his own severed head up above his body.

But then it came time to Zim's stories. And were he not wearing that black fake hair and fake contacts, Dib knew the little alien invader would be grinning his zipper-toothed grin with a dark, smug light in his ruby/maroon eyes. That little green-skinned piece of crap.

Zim's stories had serious grammatical errors. Zim's stories had him winning all the time. Zim's stories had him doing disgusting, horrible things to humans and especially to Dib, and to his family. Zim seemed to relish in getting to write all of this down and he LOOOOVED seeing the look on Dib's face when Dib was looking at his smartphone, because he knew, he could tell when Dib was reading one of HIS tales. Dib had a unique mixture of disgust, anger, irritation and revulsion that blended together like a bad smoothie, and Zim was drinking it aaaaaaall in…and loving every second of it.

"This doesn't even begin to make sense!" Dib proclaimed, reading the latest story Zim had written. "Why would I ever, EVER help you…YOU…conquer the galaxy? I've spent my whole life trying to keep you from conquering Earth! Literally, years of my life! You expect me to just do a personality 180 and be like "Irken tyranny is fine"!?" He remarked aloud at Zim, giving him a dark glower. "Oh, and then there's this one, this one here…" He pointed at his smartphone screen. "This one just comes off like a torture porn. How did the teacher let you get away with it? It's just you torturing me for no good reason and rubbing your face in winning. And THIS one expects me to be HAPPY that you're conquering the universe using demonic artifacts so the Irken empire reigns supreme! And then you...kidnap my sister? And you murder people in front of her yet expect us to overlook all that awful stuff because you had a sad past? My childhood has sucked, I didn't grow up to be a megalomaniacal sociopath like you!"

"Bully for you." Gaz remarked with a grunt. "Dib, it's just some fanfics and stories, it ain't a big deal."

"Yeah well maybe not, but it's still gross to me, okay? And if he wants to write about it, I get to complain about it. That's my freedom of speech." He grunted back as Zim smirked and stuck his tongue out at Dib. He had a nice, easy way to get under the human's skin and there wasn't anything he could do.

Nobody had any idea how bad it was going to get.

The next day, their English teacher Nick called the students to pay attention at the front of his class as he walked in, his expression solemn, quiet and disturbed. "I found some…very insulting, horrible reviews put up on the school website, reviewing the stories. I would like whoever wrote them to come forward." He intoned, the rather hairy-armed and hairy-chested young man sighing as he folded his arms over his green t-shirt, Dib looking from him to Zim, then to the rest of the class as they immediately took out their phones to check.

Sure enough, the reviews were astoundingly cruel. They weren't even competently put together.

"THIS STORY IS PIG SHIT! THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"PIGSHIT FUCK YOUR PIGSHIT NARDS YOU DERPIN PAN!"

"THIS STORY IS PIGSHIT!"

"REVIEW MY STORIEZ! u/3211346 REVIEW MY STORIES OR I WILL FIND YOU IN REAL LIFE AND FORCE YOU!"

"Sheesh." Dib frowned. What the heck was all this? It was all in caps. And it had been left not only on stories done by his classmates, but on other classes too. It was odd…nothing linked them at all. After all, the classmates in the grade older than him were super focused on that silly show "Moon Sailor". And Gaz's class, except for her, had all written tales about "Nakuro the Ninja", they were reeeeaaally into anime and manga lately.

"I don't want to believe anyone in my class wrote these reviews but all of the English teachers are asking their students. So…whomever may be behind these? Step forward."

And that's when some of the kids looked right at Dib, murmuring and muttering amongst themselves as Dib glanced back.

"Why are you all looking at me?" He wanted to know, frowning.

"Your stories didn't get that many bad reviews." Sara remarked.

"I still got some, though!" Dib protested. "Besides, that's not a good enough reason to think I did it!"

"But you're always complaining about ZIM'S stories really furiously and being all pissy." Said Zita.

"Why would I leave an anonymous review complaining about his stories when I've always been open about the fact I hate him?" Dib inquired. "I'm gonna all of a sudden decide after years of complaining about him to hide my complaining behind a mask because…why?" He wanted to know. "Furthermore, all of the "pig shit" reviews are advertising someone ELSE'S stories, not mine! That's not my account he linked! And I'm not even interested at all in those ninja stories or those silly Moon Sailor tales, look at the ones I favorited or left signed reviews on, none of them are in those fandoms. I'm not interested in them, so why would I leave any kind of review, even a raging, hateful one on them? Wouldn't I leave one on something I actually care about enough to get angry or furious over?"

"Yeaaaah, but there's a LOT of hatred in these reviews, and you're the only one in class who gets THAT mad about Zim stories." Gretchen confessed. "It does look kinda bad."

"But whenever I complained about Zim's stories, it was because they were so mean and cruel and misanthropic and Zim was just getting away with being a jerk! I laid out all my points well. And I sure didn't just write in all caps and with bad grammar!" Dib added. "You can't just assume I did it!"

But the kids murmured and muttered amongst themselves as Dib frowned, turning away, Zim sniggering at his misfortune. "Yeah, real funny, Zim. Real funny."

The rumor spread through the school. Poor Dib kept getting really insulting messages left for him on all of his work. Even when none of it even MENTIONED Zim, he got the horrible reviews, accusing him of being a troll, of being "Pig Shit".

"Look at this!" He told the guidance counselor, Mr. Thildari….before he remembered the man with soft white hair and a soft yet dark voice was literally blind and couldn't see it. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt and white pants and sat next to Dib on bean bag chairs in the nice "safe space" he'd set up in his office.

"Could you read it aloud?" The man softly inquired.

"Yeah…sure." Dib sighed. "Heh-hem. "you bash stories all time about Zim, tbh and you bully authors here. you are just as bad as any villain you're bitching about so get the fuck over yoself you preachy hypocrite. if i see more writers quit their storys because you a sneaky, evil person karma will come for you. i hope you believe in Jesus because yo gnna need him and the good Lord to save your sorry ass from going to hell".

"My, my, how very rude of them."

"It gets worse. Some garbled nonsense here too. "nvkdfjsl:Derpin pig shittin h*** humpin nards suckin pan!" And THEN there's " You big fat white nasty smelling fat b*** why you took me off the m*** schedule with your trifling dirty white racist a** you big fat b*** oompa loompa body a** b*** I'm coming outside and I'm going to beat the f*** out of you b***". I mean really?! Oompa Loompa body?! Racist?! Where's all this coming from? And then this guy calls me the q word! What is WRONG with these people?!"

"There has to be some way to stop it." Mr. Thildari remarked softly.

"I don't know HOW. How am I supposed to convince them it isn't me?" Dib groaned, burying his face in his hands as Mr. Thildari gently stroked over his back, and quietly sighed. "What could possibly be good enough for them?"

"I wish I could tell you." The guidance counselor told him. "All I can do is promise you, I'll be here to talk to you. To be as a shoulder to cry on."

"I'm glad you're so good at it." Dib confessed softly as he wiped his eyes on his sleeve, sniffling a bit, trying to fight back tears. "People don't realize how…how fuckin' SHITTY it is. It's this daily grind, waking up every day to see nothing but shit flung at you just for having an opinion they don't like, for trying to make the world a better place, for trying to hold people accountable for the awful things they say and do."

"Well Dib, remember, Zim has the right to write stories, even if you think they're awful or dark or cruel."

"Yeah…sure. Doesn't mean I don't get to complain about them!" Dib muttered. "Everyone forgets that. They just want to be free to post anything up with no critique. But this? This isn't critique I'm getting, this isn't like me pointing out character inconsistencies or how meanspirited a story feels, this is just bashing, this is just trolling, this is just swears and vulgar crap and yelling. That's not free speech, that's like…HATE speech. So what am I gonna do…" He murmured, burying his face in his hands. "…what am I gonna do…"

…what indeed.

Author's Note: Every single review you see from "Pig Shit" and quoted by Dib is literally word for word either what I've received, or what I've been accused of writing. And Dib's views are my own. And that's all I will say for now.

[singledarkshade]

Draining The Swamp

Part Three

(Part One and Part Two.)

 The band and crew along with John, Rip and Gideon piled into the hotel that Rip had found for them, with the police escort. It wasn’t a five-star hotel, but it was good enough for their needs that night.

“Alright everyone,” John took charge, “We will have to all double up in rooms, so I want no complaints. Pick a roommate,” he turned to Rip, “You can stick with me and I’ll put Gideon with Veronica. Although she already seems to have done that herself.”

Rip turned to where Gideon had her arms wrapped around Veronica’s and was talking to her as though they’d known one another for years.

It amazed him sometimes that despite the fact she couldn’t actually interact with people properly in real life, Gideon was incredible at ‘making friends’ during a case. She had this natural charm that people responded to and talked to her openly without realising it.

John quickly sorted out the rooms and started handing out keys, sending everyone away as soon as they had their key. Finally there were only two left.

“Veronica,” John took her arm moving her to one side while Gideon started to study the layout of the hotel, “I’ve asked Rip and Gideon to stick around to help us. Do you mind sharing with Gideon, since you two have hit it off and she doesn’t know anyone else in the crew?”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Veronica smiled, glancing to where Gideon was ignoring them, “She is adorable.”

“That she is,” John smirked slightly, before realising Rip was standing at his side, “Thanks, love.” He grabbed her bag, John said, “Come on I’ll walk up with you.”

As John left with Veronica, Rip turned to Gideon, “I had Eve pack some things for us and send it to the station.”

“That was smart,” Gideon smiled as they started walking to where Harry and Kendra had set up.

Rip wrapped his arm around her, “John and I will be next door to you, so if you need anything then just bang on the wall. Okay?”

“Do you want me to keep an open phoneline instead?” she asked before her eyes lit up, “We can listen to each other sleep.”

Ignoring her, Rip opened the door and pushed her into the room where Harry and Kendra were waiting.

  Gideon slid into the seat beside Kendra who smiled at her.

“You ordered this,” Harry handed two bags to Rip, an annoyed frown on his face, “And never use us as a baggage service again.”

Rip nodded and checked the bags before handing one to Gideon. Taking his seat, he waited while Harry joined them.

“Alright,” the older Detective said, “The hotel has been inspected, and it’s been discovered that the fire started in a bag belonging to one of the band.”

“Let me guess,” Rip said, “Veronica.”

Kendra nodded, “We think that there might have been some kind of timer, but something meant it went off before it was designed to.”

“Someone is really out to hurt her,” Gideon grimaced, “And I’m not sure why.”

Kendra turned to her, “What are you getting?”

Gideon sighed, “Nothing specific. But she’s sweet and loves being in the band. She is scared by what’s been happening but is determined not to let this ruin the end of the tour.”

“John asked that Gideon be Veronica’s roommate while we’re here,” Rip told them.

Harry nodded, “That’s good. It means we don’t have to worry she’s sharing a room with whoever is trying to harm her.”

“But it could put Gideon in harms way,” Kendra noted.

Gideon waved her away, “Rip and John are next door. We’ll be fine.”

Kendra frowned but knew that Rip would never put Gideon in danger, not that she wouldn’t do it herself.

“We’ll also be downstairs,” Harry added, rolling his eyes, “Since Captain West seems to like you two that he wastes our time babysitting you.”

Rip placed his hand over Gideon’s mouth before she could speak, “We appreciate it,” he took her arm, “We’ll check in later.”

   Gideon frowned as Rip dragged her out the room, he was no fun sometimes. Annoying Harry until he got that furrowed brow and clenched teeth was one of her favourite hobbies.

“John messaged me,” Rip told her, “Once we drop off our bags, we’ll have dinner with him and Veronica.”

Gideon nodded.

“I don’t like this, Gideon,” he sighed as they stepped into the elevator, “There’s something we’re missing.”

Leaning against his arm, Gideon smiled, “We’ll work it out.”

“You know if anything happens to you,” Rip pulled her close and murmured in her hair, “It would destroy me.”

Wrapping her arms around him, Gideon breathed, “Rip, nothing is going to happen to me.” Pulling back she took his face in her hands, “I survived six months without you, okay barely but I managed without you. When we’re together, Rip we can do anything. With my brains, and my charm and your…” she smiled mischievously, “We can do anything.”

The doors opened and Rip hugged her close for a second before moving her into the corridor.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Gideon blew him a kiss before disappearing through the door and he shook his head.

She drove him crazy at times but he wouldn’t have her any other way.

                         *********************************************

 Gideon slipped into her seat, smiling as Rip pushed it in. She loved how old fashioned he was at times. Mary had impressed manners on him from the moment she’d taken him in, and it always made Gideon smile when she watched women swoon at his chivalry.

“As much as I would love to eat with you,” Veronica smiled, “The rest of the band is over there.”

Gideon nodded in understanding, “I’ll meet you to head back up to the room.”

Grimacing slightly, Veronica nodded after John gave her a pointed look.

“Also,” John added, “Stay where the police can see you. None of you disappear or I will make the rest of this tour hell for you.”

Veronica nodded with a smile before she headed across the room, she settled in the chair beside Jordan who hugged her before the other two guys did.

“They care about her a lot,” Gideon mused softly, feeling Rip gently squeeze her hand.

John nodded, “Veronica is their little sister. The guys have been really worried about what’s been happening.”

Gideon mused for a moment, “Tell us about them.”

“Can’t you just…” John waved his hand near his head.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Gideon told him.

John nodded, “Well, how much do you know about the band.”

“Pretend we know nothing,” Rip said, taking a sip of water.

“Okay,” John shrugged, “Jordan, Max and Tony formed Swamp Things about four years ago. I heard them play in a pub two and half years ago, liked their sound and signed them.”

Rip mused for a moment, “Why did they bring Veronica in?”

“Jordan wrote a song that he felt needed a female voice,” John explained.

“Veronica was only meant to be on the demo,” Gideon spoke up.

John looked at her startled, “Yes.”

“Then why is she now in the band?” Rip asked.

“Because when she and Jordan sang together, it was magical,” John told them, “They blended together perfectly. Max and Tony demanded she be the one to sing it on the album, then the three of them persuaded her to join the band.”

“So,” Rip mused, “It was their decision.”

John nodded, “The guys love her. Jordan and Veronica have been writing together ever since. You’ve heard some of their stuff. Gideon was singing one of them this afternoon.”

“What about this time?” Gideon mused, “How is the singing split for the new album?”

John shrugged, “Some of Jordan, some with both of them but there are a few where just Veronica is singing solo.”

Rip mused for a moment, “I wonder if the accidents are to stop the album.”

“When I read about you both,” John spoke up, “I knew you’d be able to help. I’ve always believed in the supernatural. I mean your abilities are fascinating, Gideon. My house is reputedly haunted, not that I’ve got to spend much time there, but I would love to have you come and see what you can sense there.” Annoyance covered his face as his phone rang, “I swear,” John sighed, “I’m going to have one day where I don’t spend half of it on this bloody phone. Excuse me.”

When he left them alone, Gideon rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe you’re friends with someone who believes in that malarkey. Ghosts and voodoo mumbo jumbo”

“Says the fake psychic,” Rip replied amused before he moved them back to their case, “I take it we’re taking the band out of suspicion.”

“It seems unlikely any of them are behind these accidents,” Gideon mused, “But we should probably talk to them just in case.”

The waiter appeared for them to order, Rip somehow knew exactly what John wanted to eat which made Gideon frown annoyed. He on occasion ordered for her but it seemed odd.

“John told me what he wanted earlier,” Rip said, reading her mind as always, “He knew he might get called away.”

Appeased Gideon sat talking generally with Rip until Gideon noticed Jordan leave the table rubbing just behind his ear.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Gideon told him.

“Gideon…”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, “John’s coming back. Keep him company.”

She saw the annoyance filling his eyes, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything as she strolled away.

   Gideon followed Jordan as he left the restaurant. At first she thought he was going to the restrooms, but he walked past them and continued towards the small reading room. Making sure she wasn’t seen, Gideon followed him. One good thing about her small stature meant she could hide easily.

Frowning Gideon watched the young man sit and wince, rubbing behind his ear. He was obviously in a lot of pain and Gideon frowned worriedly. Jordan pushed his hands through his hair angrily before she saw tears fill his eyes. He quickly shook it away and took some painkillers from his pockets. Jordan swallowed two and sat for another few minutes before he stood, took a slow deep breath, and left the room again, heading back to the restaurant.

“Where did you go?” Rip demanded when Gideon slipped back into her seat again.

“The Ladies,” she beamed, changing the subject as their first course was served, “Oh this looks good.”

Rip let out a small huff of annoyance but held his silence as they began to eat.

   Dinner was quiet, although Gideon every so often kept making little noises as she thought things over. John kept looking over at her, but Rip had enough experience with her process that he just ignored her.

After dinner they took over the bar and the band along with the crew had a singalong, of anything and everything except their own songs. It was clear they did this on a regular basis as there was a rhythm to the songs they sang and the challenges that were set by the group. During the entire thing, Rip could see Gideon looking intently around the room. Every so often she would stare at Jordan who was in the centre of the group laughing along with everyone else.

Finally John called an end to the evening, sending them all packing to their room. Rip and John walked with Veronica and Gideon to their room.

“If you need anything,” John told the young woman, “Just let me know. I’m right next door. The police are also downstairs. Okay?”

Veronica nodded.

As she entered her room, Gideon followed. Her hand holding onto Rip’s until the final second.

Rip followed John into the hotel room they were sharing, and watched his friend drop onto his bed with a sigh.

“Hey, it’s like the old days,” Rip tried to lighten the mood.

John laughed slightly, “Except we’re older.”

“No wiser though,” Rip replied with a smile.

“All I need is to get through tomorrow’s concert and then hopefully I can get the band home with no more incidents,” John told him.

Rip reached over and clapped his friend’s shoulder, “Get some sleep.”

[theparanormalperiodical]

The True Story Behind The Amityville Horror (1979) And The 9 Other Times Paranormal Evidence Was Used In Court

I can hear the birds singing.

I can see a brilliant blue sky as it bathes my small Kentish town in the year’s first rays of light.

And I can feel the first thawe of February.

F*ck off winter, and hello spring!

As I sit on my bed, looking outside my window at the resurrection of the once-green landscape of my hometown, I am reminded of the true meaning of this season: life.

The mating season begins for most small, furry creatures, daffodils stand proudly as the first flower to mark their territory, and, like, there’s something about Jesus but I don’t think that had that much of an impact on the world, did it?

But I’m not the first person who was eager to turn their back on winter - the season of death - and look forward to a brighter year.

I’m sure the Lutz family, having fled their family home in mid-January, were just as ready to quash their terrifying experiences that were only darkened by the brutal winter months.

“Lutz… I know that name.”

Unless you were only until recently within a cult and decided to turn your back on Almighty Zarp Goddess Of Destruction, you’ll probably have heard that surname before. But who were they?

Well, to jog your memory, they were a small All-American family who lived in a small All-American town known as Amityville.

Yeah, there you go, now you know where I’m heading with this.

(Or you read the title of this post.)

Amityville is a town in New York which set the scene for probably the most famous haunting the world has ever witnessed. And with several families undergoing intense happenings - from murders to manic paranormal activity - this house has earned its place in the history books.

Oh, and on the big screen, too; 16 feature films have retold the story, including one film which featured Mr Pool himself, Ryan Reynolds.

So, as your favourite paranormal blogger, I thought I’d devote an article to the insanity that was Amityville, and dissect how real the reality shown in the films was for the 2 families that once lived at 112 Ocean Drive.

And I’m not stopping there.

What made this haunting so iconic was how it planted its paranormal feet into the legal system as a result of the murder case the hauntings are linked to. But the thing is, Amityville is far from alone when it comes to legal courts having to deal with the supernatural.

There are actually 9 other prominent legal cases from which the courts have had to debate and discuss the paranormal.

And I’m gon’ tell you all about ‘em.

*Bangs gavel*

Before We Get Spooky, Let’s Summarise What The Films Had To Say About This Haunting

(And they’ve got a lot to say.)

Like I said, there are 16 films that claim they document the events witnessed by the Lutz family in their short stay. No, really, they were there for less than 28 days.

From 1979 all the way up to 2017, we have a variety of films that explore what went down in that house, and, given they are horror films, we also get a few laughs along the way.

Like the 1992 classic Amityville: It’s About Time, which sounds like it might star Vin Diesel in a Fast and Furious crossover.

Or maybe how in the same year Amityville: Playhouse and Amityville: Death House hit the theatres.

And even the rendition of the Amityville Horror from which the realtor having shown the new occupants around the house died in the driveway when he attempted to leave the property!

So, to cut out that crap, I’ve decided to just recap what occurs in the 3 most popular movies of this franchise:

The Amityville Horror (1979), The Amityville Horror (2005), and Amityville: Awakening (2017).

The Amityville Horror (1979)

Sharing the same title as the book supposedly based on the real events witnessed by the Lutz family, this film was the first to share the story of the DeFeo family and the following inhabitants of the house. . The film starts by showing us the final moments of the DeFeo family, from which some bloke kills all of ‘em. From there we bear witness to a new family moving into the home.

And things get spooky quickly.

A visit from a priest gives us the first signs of the supernatural as he  experiences a variety of attacks from beyond the grave, whether its swarms of flies to a blistered hand when trying to warn Kathy, the mother of the family, about. An angry spirit then tells him to ‘get out’, triggering his complete mental breakdown.

The paranormal forces then encroach on the patriarch of the famalam - George - leaving him to split firewood to keep the constant cold at bay. Unexplained events begin to haunt the entire family:

The young daughter of the family mentions an imaginary friend, and a pig with glowing red eyes is seen by her bedroom window. The doggo then becomes cray-cray about the basement which is later revealed to conceal a small, hidden room that has red walls.

Things then get weirder. George begins to wake up at 3.15am every morning to check on the boathouse, and Kathy has nightmares which reveal details of what down in the first scene of the movie. A quick trip to the archives later, and she deduces that this house is built on a Shinnecock (Native American) burial ground, and that a satan worshipper - John Ketchum - once lived there.

If that wasn’t enough, she discovers the story of the DeFeo family, and notes that Ronald DeFeo - the murderer - looks uncomfortably similar to George.

It all comes to a head when blood oozes down the staircase and Jody (you know, the sweet adorable imaginary friend who is actually a pig) is seen through the window. Oh, and George tries to kill everyone with an axe.

Kathy brings him out of his trance, and they both get the f*ck outta the house.

We are told that they didn’t return for their belongings.

The Amityville Horror (2005)

For this modern retelling of the original film, the scenes are re-arranged, the hauntings are more minimalist, and just a dash of Ryan Reynolds is added.

And is he playing Ryan Reynolds? ‘Course.

But the major difference between the OG and this icon is that the basis for the hauntings is explored in a much more artistic and developed way:

We see the Native Americans that were supposedly tortured and killed by some guy called Ketchum, and we even see Ketchum himself! Well, for a very brief moment; he simply recreates his suicide and spews blood over Ryan Reynolds George.

This possesses him, and causes him to try and kill the rest of his family as they try to escape the house.

Kathy knocks Ryan Reynolds George out and takes him off the property to release him from Ketchum’s control.

Aside from the greater detail regarding Ketchum - that is, we discover that he was in a cult and was a reverend - we also see Jodie for the first time. No, she’s not the demonic pig we see in the first film. She’s a young creepy-ass girl instead.

What a trade!

The film ends just like the OG, with a title card explaining that they pissed off and never returned to the house. But once again, a divergence with the 1970s version is revealed. 

No, not the questionable hairstyles and cinematic style that looks like it was filmed with a toaster:

The final scene shows Jodie scream in terror inside the house as the furniture rearranges itself. She is then dragged beneath the floorboards by two hands, and the screen fades to black…

This confirms that this movie - alongside the later renditions of the story - don’t necessarily point to a specific haunting, but rather look at the house as the source of the haunting. In fact, they just skip out the DeFeos altogether!

This is down to the fact that the movies are directly based on the book of the same name which was released in 1977. Based off 45 hours worth of tapes from the Lutz family, this book wasn’t necessarily written with the family, but clearly had enough information to brew this highly controversial book.

The events charted in the book will be discussed later in this post.

Amityville: Awakening (2017)

The latest film in this franchise swaps out one famous face for another - Bella Thorne stars as a teen that moves into the infamous house with her family and brain-dead brother.

But instead of retelling the Lutz’s story yet again, it explores the power of the house as it slowly begins to possess the brother until he begins to carry out the murders that plague the house.

It is even revealed that the mother brought them to the house in the hope that the demonic energy would help the brother. But, with a gaggle of friends who know the story of the house - and even show the main character the 2005 film - they help her defend against the powers of the house.

The film ends with the sister dragging her brother out of the house and beyond the magic circle she drew, ending the power of the house over the brother after he begins murdering various family members.

The final scene notes that the main character is being questioned by the police, bringing us back to the main point of this post:

This haunting set itself apart by roping in the legal courts.

But how true were these films to the real claims made by the family? And what really happened on November 13th 1974?

What Really Happened At 112 Ocean Avenue?

Whenever someone mentions Amityville, someone gets sued.

Some guy writes a book? They get taken to court. Another bloke makes a film? Lawyers get pissy about the new details added in.

But obviously, this all started in 1974, when Ronald DeFeo killed all 6 members of his family at 112 Ocean Avenue. The courts definitely got involved then, and they are still are - he is currently serving time having been convicted of second degree murder in 1975.

The DeFeo’s deaths were rather peculiar though, mirroring an almost ritualistic scene; each victim was found lying in their bed, face down. At first he ran out of the house and reported that his family had been shot, only confessing days later that he was the killer.

The family had lived in the house since 1965, and thus spent a decade in what many presume to be a haunted due to the experiences of the Lutzes. Could this have caused the murders?

According to some, the paranormal forces could’ve been at the house before the DeFeos moved in as the insanity defense pedalled by DeFeo’s lawyers claimed that he heard the voices of his family plotting against him.

"Once I started, I just couldn't stop. It went so fast" - Ronald DeFeo 

I’m sure this mirrors the beliefs and actions of most murderers, but this sense of being out of control or maybe even not yourself certainly fits the bill of possession that the movies always pin on George Lutz.

The isolation of the George figure we see in the film and the voices heard throughout suggest this, but the DeFeo story is often skipped in the films and the books.  

Yet despite DeFeo’s confession, the murders are still bathed in mystery. The police were puzzled by the fact that the corpses showed no sign of struggle, and were confused by the sheer scale and speed that the killings would have required. On top of this, neighbours didn’t hear the shots despite the gun not having a silencer.

Even the motive was uncertain.

Sure, DeFeo did ask about his father’s life insurance very quickly following his death, but many didn’t think that was reason enough to kill one’s entire family.

DeFeo’s story has twisted and turned overtime, but one thing is for sure: no haunting is ever mentioned in this side of the story. 

None. Nada. Zilch.

This is why any retelling of Amityville focuses on the murders that took place there, but also tries to trace back the haunting to a satanic cause buried in the history of the house.

To this day the question still stands: what really caused the haunting of Amityville?

The book The Amityville Horror (1977) tries to answer this question, and charts each claim of the Lutz family. And unfortunately, it confirms that the films portray an uncomfortably accurate haunting.

The hauntings noted by the Lutz family are nothing short of incredible - however you interpret my use of that word..

The spooky goings-on reported include:

A priest being told to ‘get out’ and his subsequent telephone call warning the family to stay out of a room being cut short

George would wake up at 3.15am an check the boathouse - this was the estimated time of the murders

Flies would swarm the house despite their arrival in mid-winter

Kathy would have violent and detailed nightmares about the murders

The family members all began to sleep on their stomachs

Missy, the daughter, made an imaginary friend called Jodie, a pig with red glowing eyes

Green slime oozed from walls

Hoof prints similar to that of a pig were spotted in the snow

However, the most intriguing piece of the paranormal discovered at Amityville was that small room with red walls that was found in the basement - a room considered to be the source of the evil in the house. And, just like in the films, the family dog had severe reactions to it such as cowering and refusing to go near it.

It was only when they fled to a relative’s house and saw slime coming up the stairs towards them that they decided that they would not be returning to 112 Ocean Avenue.

Evidently the silver screen tapped into the nature of the hauntings, but the possession of George Lutz? According to the Lutzes, it only went as far as George noticing that he bore a resemblance to Ronald.

What about Reverend Ketchum? And the Native American burial ground?  

Doesn’t exist and didn’t happen. 

Well, okay, some bloke called Ketchum would have existed - this was a popular name for settlers from England. But there’s no evidence that he spent his spare time in a cult or murdered Native Americans there. And the Shinnecock Native Americans? Sure, they exist, but leaders claimed this was not a burial ground.

In reality, all we have is a chaotic level of activity.

Or do we?

The book has encountered a fair share of controversy, with most major details being overturned.

Hoof prints in the snow? It didn’t snow that day.

The red room? It was a closet, and it wasn't concealed.

The claims by the priest? He never said they were of paranormal origin.

"Nothing weird ever happened, except for people coming by because of the book and the movie." - The couple that lived there after the Lutzes.

The 9 Other Cases Of Evidence Of The Paranormal Being Used In Court

I love me a ghost.

The problem is, there’s a lot of ‘em.

You’d think Amityville was like the only case where the paranormal made their way into court cases, stamping the supernatural into legal files and sending shivers down the jury’s spine…

But unfortunately, that is not true.

It turns out that tales of haunting are actually clogging up legal archives. And no, I don’t mean cases where a woman would sneeze in the 16th century and they would legally have some right to burn her cause clearly she was a witch.

In fact, some of these mysterious mentions have founded laws!

“Alexa, play the Legally Blonde soundtrack.”

#1 - The Greenbrier Ghost

Woman dies. Husband acts suspicious. Husband acts more suspicious. Ghost tells mother the husband did it. Case closed.

No, seriously - that’s what happened.

Elva Zona Heaster was murdered in 1897 at the hands of her husband. Having broken her neck, he claimed complications with pregnancy killed her, and dressed the corpse to prevent people seeing the real cause of her death.

The grandmother was the first to become unsure of his story having washed the scarf that was tied around her daughter’s definitely-not-f*cked-up neck and being unable to wash out a blood stain. She began to pray, and her daughter’s spirit explained to her what occurred.

She even did an Exorcist and twisted her head round to confirm just in case her mam didn’t get the message.

She reported the sighting, and the deputies immediately questioned people of interest. The body was reinvestigated, and the husband arrested.

Boom. Ghosted.

#2 - The Hammersmith Ghost Murder

You’d expect most cases mentioned here to involve someone being murdered and their ghost being the problem, right?

This bad boy bucks the trend.

Its 1803, and we are in fair London town. A ghost is on the loose from, I don’t know, hell, and is wandering the streets. An armed patrol is in the area to protect the citizens when a figure emerges, wearing all white.

“Looks pretty ghosty to me, must shoot ghost” thinks one of the armed patrol guys. They shoot ghost, but ghost is actually a bricklayer.

F*ck.

The British courts thus debate whether attacking or killing someone out of a misunderstanding counts as a crime. It officially becomes a part of UK law that stands to this day that such an act is not worthy of a sentence as if the crime was intentionally committed.

#3 - Stambovsky vs. Ackley

Also known as The Ghostbusters Ruling, this takes us to the other side of the Pond, all the way to New York. Oh, and this time we aren’t in the 19th century, it's 1991, instead.

The story goes a buyer bought a house that was widely believed to be haunted, but they weren't aware of these claims. Thus, they asked for a recission of the contract and claimed that this sale was fraudulent as they concealed the haunting to avoid lowering the sale price.

The courts - after much mocking and deliberation - finally came to the conclusion that legally the house was haunted, and therefore houses that are supposedly haunted must be presented in this way.

#4 - The Devil Made Me Do It Case

This case does what it says on the tin, and is even set to be the basis for the next instalment of The Conjuring franchise.

The trial of Arne Cheyenne Johnson has already been covered by this blog (that awesome post about The Conjuring 3),  but for those not up-to-date on all the amazing articles I do, I guess I’ll just have to fill you in:

The story goes that whilst clearing out a house they just rented, David Johnson encountered an old man - who we now believe to be a demon - that began to slowly possess him.

David was only 12 years old, so, to protect him, Arne (his father) asked for the demon to possess him instead.

However, it was during an altercation with their landlord, Alan Bono, that the demon reportedly influenced Arne’s actions and assisted in his murder. In fact, it was Lorraine Warren that was the first to go to the police and make the initial claim that it was the demon that caused the murder.

The legal team roped in lawyers who had worked on similar cases abroad, and exorcism specialists were encouraged to speak up and defend Arne.

Their efforts did not prove successful, however, and Arne was handed a sentence of 20 years. He only served 5.

#5 - Booty vs. Barnaby  

No, this isn’t the title of the next Cardi B album. Instead, it's another historic tale from my homeland.

Our story starts in 1687, when some bloke called Captain Barnaby is on holibobs in Stromboli. When he’s not busy shooting innocent animals, he’s watching his next door neighbour from London Town getting chased by a phantom into the mouth of an active volcano.

No, I’m serious.

The neighbour’s wife thought the story sounded ridiculous too, which is why she had him arrested for slander. But then 30 of his crew supported his claims, clearing his name, and leaving a rather peculiar tale clogging up our court records.

#6 - The Haunting Of Lowes Cottage, Derbyshire

For some reason, every person buying a house in the ‘90s was using the hottest new way to bag a bargain: just say it's haunted or somethin’!

And that’s exactly what happened in fair Derbyshire. The Smith family were keen to move into their new cosy ‘lil cottage, but the oozing walls, ghostly hands sexually assaulting family members, the pig faced boy and other strange occurrences were a cause for concern.

(Obviously.)

Having withheld payment for the property due to the events noted, they took the sellers to court, saying it should be reduced by £50,000. Even the vicar threw in his two cents, offering up the evidence which sounded a lot like a little house in a place called Amityville.

Ever heard of it?

The case was eventually thrown out of court by the judge.

#7 - Reed vs. King

Before the DeFeos were murdered, and before the Lutzes even made the mistake of telling their furniture movers to head to 112 Ocean Avenue, a court case regarding a haunted house first hit the legal scene.

Our story starts in Grass Valley. A family moved into a new home, but the estranged husband paid a visit one night, and murdered 5 of the family members and injured 2 others.

Many years passed, and the Reed family shacked up here. However, it was only when they were told of the true events that transpired that the new residents became concerned. Sure, no one mentioned a haunting per say, but they claimed that the house “retained an echo”.

Small bloody footprints, blood stains smeared on the walls - no, it's not the bathroom after I’ve emptied my Diva Cup - it’s what Reed began to see throughout the house.

Reed thus decided to sue the sellers of the house, claiming that they tried to conceal the murders to avoid a wowcher.com-esque deal. But, when the case went to court, Reed didn’t mention hide nor hare of potential ghosts - instead, the potential haunting was used against them to prove how ridiculous the claims were.

#8 - The Death Of Estefania Guitterez Lazaro

It’s been discussed, dissected, and even given a Netflix contract - the death of this Madrid teen in 1992 is  officially one of the most prominent cases of possession to date.

Despite slipping under the radar, this tale is known not for its rather simple story, but because it was the first modern-day haunting that was verified by police reports.

The story goes that Estefania died following a session using a Ouija board with her friends in school. When interrupted by a teacher for trying to contact the dead, Estefania became possessed. A strange vapour began to enter her mouth and nose, and from there her seizures and hallucinations began.

After her death in hospital, the family claimed there was a variety of paranormal activity occurring throughout the family home. From the picture of Estefania catching fire of its own accord, to unexplained noises and a rather slimy, broken crucifix, the police had seen enough.

A report was filed citing the unexplained events and confirmed it was the paranormal.

#9 - The Exorcism Of Anneliese Michel

This is one of the most tragic tales I’ve ever had to write about.

Anneliese Michel’s story has been detailed on this blog many-a-time, and has received its fair share of attention in popular culture, including in the film The Exorcism Of Anneliese Michel.

But the main reason it’s been recognised as possibly the most famous case of possession is because it brought the paranormal firmly into the legal courts. Due to Michel’s extremely weak state at the time of her death - including weighing only 68 pounds at the time of her death - the priests that carried out the exorcisms were charged with negligent homicide.

However, it's not the fact that they were charged that puts the supernatural spin on this case.

To fight their corner, the priests used tapes that recorded Michel’s exorcism to bolster their claims of her possession and had her body exhumed.

Their mere 6 month stint in jail was down to the jury’s beliefs that they didn’t intend to harm her, nor neglect her. And the suspension of their time behind bars confirms that their case was backed up by their claims.

But let it not be mistaken: the jury weren’t convinced that Michel was in fact possessed - they were convinced that Michel’s belief in her possession could only be alleviated by the priests’ actions.

*Bangs gavel* What’s your verdict?

Is the jury out? Are you pissin’ on my leg and telling me it’s raining?

Or are you still awake at 3am and waiting to see the glowing red eyes of little Missy’s childhood bestie?

If so, why not fill the rest of your evening with the rest of my awesome articles on real paranormal activity just like this... Don’t forget to hit follow, too, to get a new ghost story in your feed everyday!

[rantshemlock]

you heard it right folks, for the second year in a row i watched 

Every Halloween Film

it took around 18 hours. there are eleven movies now after all. next year there will be twelve, and next year i will throw myself into the river thames if i make myself watch Rob Zombie’s Halloween II again. 

this time i wrote it out as a journal. it is a mess. i will not edit it. if you read the entire thing you dont get a prize. im very, very tired. i watched eleven movies today. i like five of them. 

9:27- I boot up Halloween (1978). I don’t know if this is the movie I’ve seen the most in my life, but I’ve certainly seen it dozens of times, and it never loses its impact. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m reading into micro-expressions on actors’ faces and I don’t know how much any of this was ever intended, but it certainly enhances my own reading of the film. I catch the expression of slight annoyance on Judith’s face when Michael walks into her room; it’s clear she had just no idea this was coming.

9:37- The staging of the opening of Halloween is so like a nightmare, a comparison I keep using this year for the movies I watch, but there’s a sense of being placed in the immediacy of what’s happening with no context and a burden of responsibility that only exists in dreams in the first few opening scenes. You don’t know where you are or what you’re supposed to be doing, but something huge and terrible is happening and the thick, dark shadows combined with the pale white-blue light the film uses makes everything emerge out of the black but never truly divorce itself from the darkness.

The way Loomis talks about Michael like some kind of animal is such a point of fixation for me. He calls Michael ‘it’ and wants ‘it’ to be locked up for life. Maybe it’s just being of a crazy persuasion myself but being the responsibility of a doctor who despises you and refers to you as an untreatable evil doesn’t feel like it would be much help to me. I just don’t think Loomis is a great doctor, is my point.

Laurie’s introduction is such a surge of light in a film that has up until now been shot almost exclusively in darkness. We are shown someone good, normal, happy, but the long, distant shots mean we are not accompanying her on this journey from her perspective; we are following her. Halloween legend suggests Michael doesn’t start stalking Laurie until she approaches the Myers’ house, but it feels like his eyes are lingering on her long before she does that. He casts a long shadow over her life before she even knows he exists.

9:42- The fact the film approaches the idea that it doesn’t make sense Michael would know how to drive a car but doesn’t explain it at all is weirdly funny. Just fuck it man, he can drive.

9:45: I really love the focus on Michael as a physical being. The fact we see him touch someone with his hands, open a car, steer while driving, run his hand over a fence… All of this adds a sense of Michael being tangible that I think is so vital. Michael Myers is a human being, not a demon, and that’s precisely why he is scary. Halloween as always meant to be a movie about the person next door; the fear comes from the fact that something inside your apparently nice, normal neighbourhood is rotten to the core. Laurie herself is incredibly on edge almost from the start; she knows something is wrong. She just hasn’t figured out what yet.

9:57- The gravekeeper’s insistence that something like this happens in every town is probably right on the money. It’s definitely what the film wants you to understand. The apparent nicety of your hometown doesn’t mean it’s free of violence, only that you’re trained not to notice it.

10:01- at exactly 0:33:16 Michael drives by in the background right behind Loomis without Loomis noticing, which is hysterically funny to me. I imagine Michael finds this incredibly funny too.

10:02- Laurie saying she’d “rather go to the dance with Ben Traimor” smacks of being a teenager and gay and saying the name of the first kid you know who’s nice to you because you guess that’s what having a crush is?

10:05- Loomis’ insistence at 0:37:12 that Michael killed and ate a dog raw is incredible to me. Also, I can’t say “Michael raw dog” to my friends without them screaming hysterically at me. They’re fuckers, and I hate them

10:07- From Loomis’ description, he met Michael when Michael was six, already condemned by the doctors as an incurable patient, and stopped treating Michael and turned to insisting he be locked up by the time Michael was fourteen. I think about this a lot.

10:13- “I’m not about to let anything happen to you.” I’m always very touched by Laurie’s immediate assertion of her position as a protector of children.

10:19- Lindsay caring literally only about watching horror movies is incredibly relatable. Truly a hero I can finally understand.

10:28- The house across the street, Lindsay’s house, is almost as haunting as the Myers house itself. It’s certainly a beautiful spectacle, the huge white building with its pillars and vast, blank windows, looming out of the darkness like a moon-lit tombstone. Laurie always seems so lonely when she watches it from the outside.

10:33- The head tilt after Michael pins Bob to the wall is so fucking iconic. It’s the first time it was done, I believe, and while it’s a cliché now it’s still chilling. The way Michael just studies Bob’s corpse, thoughts completely unable to be interpreted. The fact he turfs up in a ghost costume wearing Bob’s glasses moments later is so strange; there’s really no reason he would do that at all, other than the idea he finds it funny. There’s more showmanship to what Michael does than people recognise a lot of the time, I think. It’s like he really wants his work to be seen.

10:43- The shot of Annie on the bed under Judith’s tombstone has to be one of the most beautiful shots in the franchise. The perfect arrangement made just for Laurie to walk in on and experience in one precise way is so meticulous. Michael’s obsessiveness nature manifest in so many ways. The final showdown between Michael and Laurie is only around ten minutes long but it’s an incredible endurance test of a scene; the way Michael grows out of the shadows like he’s being formed within them is still beautiful and terrifying.

I think a really underrated part of this sequence that makes it so frightening is how Laurie is pointedly not alone; the neighbourhood she’s in is populated, and there are people around her. But when she runs to the neighbours for help, screaming and banging on the doors, they choose to ignore her. Seeing something they don’t like in their neighbourhood, they shut it out.

10:50- the closet scene is an incredible piece of filmmaking. There’s really never been anything before or since. I love art with a lot of lines and shadows and seeing the shadow of Michael moments before he breaks through the door is so haunting.

10:52- Laurie desperate and holding the knife in her hands is stunning. I love her.

10:54- I love the brief glimpse of seeing Michael’s face and how it stops him dead in his tracks. The fact he looks so painfully normal is so important too.

10:55- There’s a lot to be said about Loomis confirming Michael is ‘the Boogeyman’. I think Michael’s definite physical humanity in this movie is so important because it contrasts so strongly against the dehumanisation of him by the characters around him. We can only accept there’s a nightmare inside our neighbourhoods if we choose to believe it isn’t natural to it; that someone like that could not form there, but must have been artificially summoned, like a demon. Later movies and the remakes run with this idea; that Michael is somehow an outsider, but I think that defeats the entire point. Michael is part of this world just as much as Laurie is, whether we want to believe it or not.

10:57- I should be starting Halloween II but unfortunately, I have to go to the pharmacy. It might be Halloween, but prescription medications wait for no slasher villain.

11:13- I start watching Halloween II (1981). I like that this movie starts off with Mr Sandman. Horror movies having nursery rhymes in them now is another cliché, but this is such an interesting pick for Michael. I suppose it fits with him being the Boogeyman; he’s a creature of nightmares that slinks into our homes only through dreams. Allegedly.

I like the decision to pick this movie up right after the last one stopped, something that it looks like 2020’s Halloween Kills will be duplicating. It just makes a straightforward kind of sense.

11:21- The hysteria of Loomis screaming “I shot him six times!” over and over is sort of funny and sort of sick. There’s a slight traumatised, obsessive lunacy in Loomis the same as there is in Michael. I like the parallels between them. Loomis raised Michael more than Michael’s own parents did; it makes sense he’d have a lingering affect.

11:23- The shots from Michael’s perspective both in the first movie and this one are great. I love that we’re challenged to be inside his mind. We follow Michael a lot in this early opening. There’s an obvious strategy to his actions in this film, but the randomness of his kills are new. In the first movie, all the kills either get him something or revolve around Laurie. In this one, he kind of just does whatever, a theme that carries on for the rest of the movie.

11:24- A difference I don’t like so much in this movie is that the neighbours are so much more keyed into each other; they pay attention to the screaming and the strange noises, watch out for things that look out of place. I feel like it clashes with the first movie’s themes of isolation simply through your neighbours not caring what happens to you.

11:32- Ben Traimor getting hit by a cop car which crashes into a van and then explodes is one of the funniest fucking things that’s ever happened in this franchise. It is so completely fucking inexplicable and suddenly violent and pointless that it becomes hysterical, which is unfortunate given it’s meant to be a serious scene.

The breakdown scene that follows, where the Sheriff Brackett finds his daughter Annie is dead however is excellent. Charles Cyphers manages to carry the weight of the tragedy pretty effectively for a film that can veer into the goofy too easily, and Dr Loomis’ more measured delivery on his beliefs about Myers is Donald Pleasance at his best.

Halloween II isn’t any longer than Halloween, but the pacing is worse. It lets go of the original’s constant, haunting tension and delivers a sloppier movie as a result, too padded with side characters and people passing through the world with no consequence. The character of Brett is probably one of the most obnoxious characters in the franchise, which is saying a lot.

11:46- Laurie literally not knowing it was Michael Myers who was after her until she’s told is weirdly sad. Like of course she didn’t know, but it’s still sad. She feels very small and vulnerable in this movie, very lost in the big, empty hospital. The fact her parents are inexplicably missing and never shows up makes me crazy. I always wonder if there was a dropped plot thread where Michael was meant to have killed them, or something, because there’s really no explanation.

11:53- The musical stings in this movie are so odd. They’re too bleepy. Don’t know what the hell happened.

11:55- I take the laptop into the kitchen to make a sandwich while I watch the movie. It’s early for lunch but I don’t eat breakfast and I can actively feel my braincells hurting me.

12:01- I’m fascinated by the shots in this of the faint dream Laurie has of seeing a boy in the hospital when she was a child. I can never decide if these are real or not; if she’s unlocking some strange, contextless memory from childhood or just imagining it, instinctively feeling the connection between her and Michael without knowing the truth.

12:04- Bud’s off-screen death is so unsatisfying. Also, so continues the trend of Michael being mistaken for people’s boyfriends. Guess he’s just boyfriend material. Seems unbelievable to me she wouldn’t notice how dirty his hands are, though. And Jesus, the boiling her to death kill is really pretty brutal and graphic, after kills in the first few movies are so relatively restrained.

12:07- Michael writing SAMHAIN on the wall is so over the top. Yeah, I can believe he’s fucking 21 years old. Michael is a performance art student.

12:09- Laurie having Michael’s ability to go deadly still and silent is neat. I like them having links. They’re siblings after all. Runs in Myers family.

12:11- The needle into the side of the head kill is bizarre. Also, the head-tilt here feels cheap. I have already started stealing candy from the bowl intended for trick-or-treaters. In my defence, I could, and I wanted it.

12:20- I like that Laurie has an instinct to run, hide and defend herself. I don’t know if it’s the trauma of surviving or a prenatural sense that Michael is coming for her, but I like it. I don’t like that this entire movie is like twenty minutes longer than it needs to be, or how little Laurie is actually in it.

12:28- The reveal that Laurie is Michael’s sister is so great. It fits so well. I say bullshit to anyone who doesn’t like it. The repetition and obsessiveness of Michael’s behaviour, the strange links and parallels between Laurie and Michael. The fact that the two of them are just as much parts of Haddonfield as each other. It just feels right for them to be related. They are related.

12:31- Laurie crawling on the street begging for help as Loomis ignores her again – this man is truly useless.

12:33- Michael walking directly through a glass door is hysterical.

12:38- Laurie calling Michael’s name, stopping him for a second, blinding him with a shot… This last sequence is fantastic. There’s an enormous amount of pity in seeing Michael blindly stumbling around, swinging his knife, unable to see but still so desperate to kill. The fact she stops him by calling his name is great. The way it almost, for a second, perks some recognition inside him. I think a lot about Michael’s sense of identity. Who does he think he is? I guess we’re never going to find out.

12:43- Halloween III: Season of the Witch time. There’s a trend now of saying this is really the best Halloween movie. I can’t really argue with people’s personal takes, but there’s always a sense to that to me of denying the classic to favour the underdog. People love an underdog. But Halloween III definitely does kind of rule. As much conspiracy thriller as it is horror movie, Halloween III is deeply weird and creative, but packed with great performances and truly memorable special effects, with a killer soundtrack to boot.

1:11- Halloween III is so distinct feeling; it almost feels like a John Carpenter movie, but more like The Thing than Halloween. The film is less aesthetically distinct than Halloween; it takes place over days, in many locations, following the characters as they dig into the conspiracy behind the menacing Silver Shamrock company. It’s well-written and often pretty witty and builds an incredible sense of menace and strangeness. The little company town surrounding the Silver Shamrock factory is bizarre and frightening and although the film can be a little heavy-handed in its depiction of a surveillance state, it certainly builds up atmosphere.

1:20- The scene of the old drunk being taken out by the corporate men in black rules in how suddenly violent and horrible it is. We love a horror movie.

1:26- Some of the digital effects leave a little to be desired but god the practical effects are fucking incredible, and so goddamn memorable and horrible.

1:33- The over-the-top niceness of the Silver Shamrock owner is so pitch-perfect. He’s so nice that it’s obviously, blatantly menacing. What owner of a big corporation like this just gives shit away for free? I mean, come on. I really love the apparent legends that surround him, though, the reputation of being a genius and a great man.

1:48- The complete calmness with which the whole plan gets revealed is so good because you really sense how fucking little threat our heroes pose; no one here thinks they have a chance in hell of stopping Silver Shamrock. The plan in itself is absurd, but like, who cares. It’s fun. The fact Cochran is like, delighted to show off his big ideas because he’s so confident nothing will stop them. And in a way he’s right; at least partially, the heroes do ultimately fail.

2:00- the speech Cochran delivers about the power of Samhain rules. It’s so intense and menacing. Fucking great performance here.

2:07- As much as I like the ending, I think how much it drags on kind of kills some of the tension. Feels like it could have been cut back. The imagery at the very end is fantastic though; it’s so weird. The way this movie embraces strangeness is great; I’ll always take a film that tries to be something different and weird over anything that plays it safe.

2:20- Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers. Jesus we’re starting down a dark path now. Halloween 4 is pretty thoroughly ‘ok’ and even has a couple of good moments but God. The decision to return to just being about Michael Myers after risking and flopping with an anthology movie is fine by me, but Halloween 4 plays it as safe as possible and lacks any of the flair or charm of the original. It just doesn’t have any style, and the forced drama falls short. Jamie Lee Curtis’ absence also feels like a sucking void in the film; it’s too painfully obvious that she was meant to be in this movie, and the fact she isn’t, the fact she died off-screen in some completely nondescript way is so depressing. The filmmakers assumed no one watching gave a shit about Laurie, and that’s so wrong and so disheartening.

2:25- the other doctors hating Loomis really adds to my reading of him as a man on the brink. He must be insufferable to know.

2:30- It really feels so painfully fucking unfair that Laurie would go through so much to just die in a random car accident. Or maybe there’s a kind of poetry in her dying without Michael’s involvement; just part of her own life.

2:36- Donald Pleasance is such a mensch. As stupid as these movies get, he never stopped bringing his fucking A-game and giving them as much respect and gravitas as he could. What a fucking legend.

2:41- Loomis seeing Michael in the diner is so fucking good. Loomis’ quiet pleading, asking Michael not to go back to Haddonfield but just take him instead, the quiet God damn you. Such a great moment. Would be better if Michael didn’t just suddenly teleport out of the room with no explanation, but you can’t have it all.

2:42- Why are later Halloween movies so fond of explosions.

2:43- The kids literally chanting ‘Jamie’s an orphan’ at her is incredible. Not in a good way.

2:50- I fetch the kitten to keep him on my lap because my house is colder than Michael Myers’ black heart.

2:55- Michael looking at Laurie’s photos… Ugh.

2:56- Why do people not just believe Loomis when he says Michael is back. We have this thread every week, comrade.

3:06- Michael just kinda standing around in the background doesn’t really do much in terms of fear. It’s just silly. And his mask looks ridiculous.

3:12- This film is a masterclass in failing to raise tension.

3:23- There’s an attempt to manufacture conflict by having the police clash with a group baying for mob justice, but it all feels completely inert. Nothing in the film carries any weight or drama, and the tension is all derived from using familiar music stings to try and kick your brain into recognising it’s an appropriate place to feel something.

3:25- The kitten bites me, drinks my water, and goes to sit in a box instead. I hate him. The kill where Michael stabs someone through the gut with a shotgun and pins them to the wall is the most flagrantly absurd thing I’ve ever seen. The fact she’s immediately found also really kills the tension. Also why is Michael so fucking strong. He’s so strong.

3:31- I can see the intention with the roof scene, but there’s too much unintentional comedy and Michael is so unthreatening that it doesn’t hold together at all. I especially hate how Michael will just suddenly appear out of nowhere; the first movie utilises his forming out of the shadows so well, but it doesn’t fucking work the same if he’s just there, in a formerly empty and well-lit corridor. He’s not being beamed in by a spaceship.

3:39- God this film is slow. Michael’s hands look absolutely terrifically fucked up. I wish Laurie was here.

3:41- It is insufferable how this film has like ten climaxes. Jamie running to inspect Michael really just doesn’t make any sense. I understand why the filmmakers did it, but it doesn’t make sense. They allude to some connection between the two, but it’s really underplayed and doesn’t pay out well when so much of the movie is her being flatly scared of him. They could have – and should have – acted more on the idea of her finding some sort of familiar connection between them. Famously, the movie ends with the idea Jamie might have somehow inherited Michael’s drive to murder, but the plot thread disappointingly gets dropped after this movie.

3:47- It’s time for Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers. God, this movie is such a non-entity in the franchise. It doesn’t have 6’s turbulent history or 4’s dramatic ending. It just like, occurs. It occupies space and time. It tries to further the connection between Jamie and Michael, turning it into something psychic and supernatural, and begins to introduce elements of the Cult of Thorne before that takes over as the plot of 6, but none of it is interesting and I also hate the attempt to make Halloween a supernatural franchise.

4:04- The totally legal for sure stream I’m using starts fucking up so everything takes a break while I find somewhere else to watch it.

4:05- Contemplate if life is worth it.

4:06- Film returns. It’s not worth it.

4:27- If screaming at kids was always Dr Loomis’ brand of psychiatry no wonder he couldn’t help Michael.

4:30- You really need to put in more effort than this if you want to make someone being murdered in broad daylight scary. If you’re not putting in the kind of effort Midsommar does to sell the death, you aren’t gonna get there. Halloween as a franchise seems obnoxiously dedicated to doing shit in the middle of the fucking day, for something who built the power of the original scares so much off of the quiet and darkness of the shadows.

4:39- Imagine leaving a traumatised child alone because you want to get laid. Tina’s character is fucking absurd. There are far too much entirely interchangeable faces in this movie screaming incoherently.

4:57- The scene of Michael desperately trying to run Jamie over with a car while the camera swings around hysterically and then the car inexplicably exploding is like peak mid-sequel Halloween. It really exemplifies how much the franchise started relying on noise and flash instead of like, being scary.

5:02- Loomis begging Michael to ‘fight the rage that drives you’ and saying that killing will never drive the anger out is too little too late, ain’t it. I like the idea of an appeal to his emotions but there’s so little emotional weight to the rest of the movie that it fails to maintain a meaningful tone. All the moments where Jamie is communing with Michael are supposed to drive tension I guess, but it mostly is just very silly.

5:09- Every set in this movie look so much like a set. Considering the first movie was just shot in a house I don’t understand why they didn’t do the same. I like the prospect of Loomis trying to talk to Michael, to get through to him emotionally, but seeing Michael just standing there in the really goofy fucking mask they gave him this film is just ridiculous. Donald Pleasance can only do so much.

5:19- Again we return to the idea of getting through to Michael emotionally. Jamie calls him uncle and asks for him to take his mask off. He does, even. But there doesn’t feel like there’s any understanding of who Michael is; there’s no consistent psychology or examination, only the gut feeling that family has to be important. But we know how Michael feels about family, and it’s not tender. He speaks his own language.

5:21- Where the fuck did Loomis even get a giant chain net and tranquiliser drafts.

5:25- Sure why wouldn’t a guy with a machine gun show up and just start slaughtering everyone like who the fuck cares.

5:28- I take a break to gather my thoughts and feelings emotionally so I can handle watching Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers.

5:32- I change the cat litter to avoid watching Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers.

5:40- I start Halloween 6: The Curse of Michael Myers.

5:50- The woman calls into radio station and says she’s in love with Michael Myers is the only person in this film I respect.

5:51- The decision to bring back Tommy Doyle as a conspiracy theorist who’s obsessed with Michael is a great concept, which is why I’m glad Tommy Doyle is in Halloween Kills so I never have to say Halloween 6 makes a point again. Paul Rudd (yes, that Paul Rudd) is shockingly terrible in this movie, and also, I don’t like him as an actor, so nothing about this performance endears him to me. I have no fucking idea what they directed him to do. It is miserable.

6:01- I am straight up not having a good time bro.

6:03- This is the only Halloween movie in a long time to actually try and show off its location; Halloween 5 could be set literally anywhere and is unfollowable, but Halloween 6 at least attempts to ground the movie in Haddonfield and show that this is a normal neighbourhood. Unfortunately, this movie takes place in nonsense magic doo-doo land so any attempt to ground us in anything is a waste of fucking time.

6:13- There’s a lot of reasons I don’t like this movie; I think the additions of mythology are absurd and go against the themes of the original, the conclusion is dumb as hell, the story is boring. It isn’t scary and it isn’t well-shot or well-written. But on a more abstract level, I hate its schlock, cheap understanding of what obsession and trauma does to someone. I fucking loathe that it uses rape as a shock tactic and how much abuse it puts its female characters through for no catharsis.

6:50- This curry I’m eating sucks ass. I want that on the record.

7:22- Jesus fucking Christ it’s finally time for Halloween H20: 20 Years Later. I love this movie. I love it for the ambition it had. It might not be a as fully realised examination of trauma after time as Halloween (2018) is, but I admire it for its vision. It doesn’t try to mimic the style of the first film, and I guess there’s a certain loss in aesthetic as it’s more akin to Scream or other fairly uniform 90s slasher movies in appearance, but it’s a far more confident movie than the other middling Halloween sequels. It has a clear understanding of what it wants the movie to be and is genuinely tense and thrilling because of that, as well as more readily grounded in reality. It has a genuine respect for the original that others fail to and tries to build an original film that follows it in a meaningful sense.  

7:56- Laurie is really condemned to be around people who don’t listen to her but as much of a horrible little punk shit her son is, narratives about inherited or family trauma make me go insane, so this all affects me still.

8:01- I like the discussion of fate in Frankenstein as parallel to the discussion of fate in the first movie. It’s silly, but I like it, and that’s on me.

8:07- One of the smartest moves this film makes is using its own score. A lot of the middling sequels just lift from the original without any care, but H20 puts in some effort into building up some actual atmosphere.

8:13- I like that Laurie is a mess but still holding it together. She’s jumpy and always watching, with a bottle of alcohol a little too close beside her. It’s not exactly the most monumental depiction of lifelong trauma, but the film makes an effort. I love its effort. I love Jamie Lee Curtis as well.

8:26- This film brings back a theatricality to the presentations of Michael’s victims that I feel the movies sorely lack. If it doesn’t look like an art project why bother? I was going to say I wish there was more development of the relationship with Michael and his nephew, but I don’t. I want more Laurie. Love Laurie.

8:28- Michael’s not good with keys. I love the fact that his hands and eyes are so clear, though. It brings back that kind of essential physicality he had in the original. Him making contact with Laurie, the shot of the two of them through the glass looking at each other is so fucking good.

8:34- Laurie standing in the drive with a fucking axe screaming Michael’s name as the Halloween them kicks in fucking rules so goddamn hard. The final fight scene between these two is an all-time great.

8:39- Laurie pulling a gun on a cop so she can kidnap the coroner’s van so she can make sure Michael is actually dead is fucking incredible. She’s the best person who’s ever been written. The final conclusion of the film, with Michael reaching out to her when he’s pinned down, and it’s unclear if he’s asking for help or trying to reach out to hurt her one last time but his eyes are filled with desperation is one of the best moments in any of the films, and the power of Laurie just delivering the killing blow makes it even better. The fact they both get to be so vulnerable and so human and have a moment, just a moment, where their hands touch for any reason other than violence is so fucking strong. I love this fucking movie.

8:45- Halloween: Resurrection. Because after just seeing Laurie fight for her life and get out alive, triumphing over Michael once and for all, obviously what we want is to have the whole thing turn out to be bullshit and a fake out and for Laurie to die in the first five minutes of this film? Fuck this movie man. Like fuck this movie.

8:59- as bad and stupid and shallow as this movie is, the slight manipulation Michael performs is pretty great, and Laurie’s line “Are you afraid of me?” is an all-time great. This film doesn’t earn Laurie’s death, though, and it doesn’t deserve Jamie Lee Curtis. I’m not even totally against the idea of finding out what Michael would do if all his family was dead, but this movie’s option of ‘be in a reality show being filmed in his house’ is probably the answer I never, ever, ever wanted.

9:03- I have given up.

9:25- People make a big deal out of the ending scene where Busta Rhymes electrocutes Michael Myers in the nuts but it is really the only moment of levity in what is otherwise the most boring experience anyone can have.

10:00- I am eating leftover candy and contemplating my life.

10:17- I boot up Halloween (2007). I have accepted death.

10:19- Yeah, what Halloween was really lacking was a guy yelling “I should crawl over there and skullfuck the shit outta you!” before hitting on his teenage stepdaughter. The level of overt grossness and extremity that Robert Zombert brings to this franchise is so fucking putrid and unnecessary. All he brings to this franchise is insane amounts of unbridled misogyny and pop psychology. I said the same thing last year and I’ll happily say it again; this movie’s idea of what makes a serial killer is like something from a daytime TV movie. I’m sure it was intended to be edgy, but the demonization of the working class and sex workers and the position of Michael as the lower-class outsider to the nice suburbs is the most conformist class politics in existence. Halloween (1978)’s depiction of a serial killer who was a part of and came from inside the nice, safe, upper middle-class suburb will always be a far, far more revolutionary statement than this.

10:44- I don’t believe this really gives Michael ‘more backstory’ since it basically just re-treads what the first movie did, but it sure does it worse. The film just takes an incredible amount of time to say ultimately nothing at all. What really gets me is that this does really destroy the Michael is the big bad boogeyman myth simply because the childhood it gives Michael doesn’t fit with who he is. The change just feels forced. The suddenness of his violence feels forced. There doesn’t seem to be any observation here other than it would be scary if a nice kid was actually murderer.

10:56- Why does Michael’s mother own a huge projector. The melodrama of her killing herself is so absurd.

11:03- Michael Myers gets called the F-slur so many times in this movie that I’m officially adopting him as part of the LGBT community.

11:12- people criticise the original for not having the most natural of dialogue for its teenage girl characters, but the teenagers in this film are so incredibly obnoxious that it’s borderline unbearable to watch. Their dialogue is unnatural too, because it’s the kind of shit a weird old man really, desperately wants teenage girls to say.

11:23- There isn’t a scene in this that doesn’t drag on for too long in a completely unfunny, charmless way. It’s also insanely aggravating how Zombie is incapable of holding the camera still for longer than a couple of seconds at a time, and why everyone in the movie always has to be twenty feet away at all times.

11:25- This movie is just the first movie but longer with people screaming fuck constantly and added rape scenes. It is so insanely fucking worthless it really defies description.

11:28- I could be hanging out with my friends but I’m watching a bad movie. Contemplating life again.

11:45- I wish Robert Zombert wasn’t so horny.

11:51- I like truly never want to hear screaming again. There’s so much noise in this movie all the time. There isn’t a fucking second of silence in this film that couldn’t be filled with someone screaming hysterically or shit breaking. There isn’t a moment where the camera holds still and lets us take in the information in the frame without wobbling deliriously or swinging around like it’s on a fucking office chair.

12:10- I wonder if I can go see Doctor Sleep tomorrow. It’s technically not Halloween anymore, but if I manage to watch all these films within twenty-four hours I think it still counts.

12:13- We’re on Halloween II (2009). I like that this movie opens up with an explanation of what the symbolism of the white horse represents, in case you’re too stupid to figure it out for yourself. I like that the flashback is also completely drained of colour, in case you’re too stupid to figure out that it’s a flashback, even after it had a title card explaining it was. Just in case you thought Michael turned into a kid again, or something.

12:17- Glad we’re back to the constant screaming and camera swirling, just in case you thought for a brief second you’d have a moment of fucking peace.

12:21- I joked about the absurdity of Ben Traimor in Halloween II (1982) getting hit by a van and then exploding but it really doesn’t match up to the pointless fucking spectacle of violence that occurs roughly every ten seconds in Halloween II (2009). There’s no reason whatsoever to have the coroner’s van full of rapists crash into a cow and have the most incredibly bloody crash scene ever while one of them screams fuck over and over, but it happens. It isn’t scary, funny, or interesting, but it sure happens. That just about sums up this movie. Loud, bloody, and gratuitous, but not, y’know, interesting.

12:39- What an exploitative ‘I think crazy chicks are hot’ vision of trauma this is.

12:48- The idea of Loomis cashing in on his fame and becoming a celebrity psychologist is a good idea, but in classic Rob Zombie way, it’s done in the least interesting way possible.

1:04- What the fuck is happening.

1:13- it is like fucking incredible how boring this movie is. None of these scenes have any purpose. It’s just stuff, it’s stuff to put on film, with no larger thesis or point. I don’t fully understand why anyone bothered making this movie.

1:29- Great, a party sequence. That’s what this film really needed. More pointless noise and scenes that go nowhere. It was way too quiet and plot-heavy until now.

1:31- Does Mr Zombie know he can just make music videos. Like wouldn’t it be easier.

1:55- The ending scene in this movie is so incredibly incoherent and unwatchable. The bringing of the strange psychic ghosts that haunt Michael and Laurie and making them real, physical presences only makes the film more incoherent. It’s all jerky, wild camera movements, strobe lighting and screaming from here on out. Michael is such a non-entity in this film. He’s in at least half the movie, but he’s not himself. He’s just like a big guy with a beard and one line.

1:59- The slo-mo is so unnecessary. Like you fucking had to make this movie even longer? For who? For what?

2:00- I wish we were all dead.

2:01- I think I’ve seen Blade Runner 2049, a movie I deeply love and cherish, less times than I’ve seen Rob Zombie’s Halloween II.

2:02- Feel depressed about this.

2:03- If I ever hear Love Hurts again, I’ll kill myself.

2:04- Spent two minutes in silent contemplation.

2:06- It’s finally time for Halloween (2018). It’s hard to understate how much respect I have for this movie. Like I said earlier, I admire H20 a lot for its attempt to be a reaction to Laurie’s trauma and grief, but it does not manage to pull this off with anywhere near as much grace and effectiveness as Halloween (2018). And on top of that, the film is stunningly shot, the only film on par with the original in terms of how beautiful and memorable the cinematography is.

2:10- The distance from which we see Michael initially is so great; there’s so much restraint. He’s unmasked for a good portion of the early movie, but the film holds back in a way that makes his face completely unreadable and instead focuses on people’s reactions to and fear of him. It gives a sense that he’s almost too frightening to be fully captured on film. We can never really understand the legend of Michael, the same way people who don’t see him ‘in the wild’ can’t; we can only see him through legends.

2:14- The soundtrack in this movie is a fucking incredible beast. John Carpenter is God, frankly.

2:17- I adore Laurie’s portrayal in this movie. She’s so cold and defensive towards people who don’t believe or respect her, but there’s a painful, raw vulnerability to her as well. She’s traumatised person who has run the gamut of people refusing to understand or respect her trauma or the worldview she’s developed. There’s such a profound mixture of power and pain, a sense of immense dignity to her. She’s sick to death of the lack of respect and cruelty she’s faced. I just love how much emotion was put into her performance, how much the filmmakers really cared about making her a fully realised expression of trauma and the way people react.

2:24- Dave blowing up a pumpkin with a firecracker is the most accurately teenage thing that’s ever happened in these movies.

2:25- Laurie standing on the sidewalk outside the school in a mirror of how Michael did rules. The callbacks in this movie are always so underplayed that they feel like they take actual meaning, rather than just being a case of demanding fans look at something cool they recognise.

2:31- I am deliriously sleepy. Laurie’s breakdown at family dinner is so painful. She carries so much grief; she is, in her eyes, the only one who does and who may ever know the truth, surrounded by people who can’t understand her because trying to put themselves in her world hurts them too much. I think Laurie’s daughter’s description of what it was like growing up in a survivalist environment filled with anxiety and paranoia is so key; it was traumatising for her to grow up in a trauma-based environment. I hope she gets more time in the next movie.

2:43- This is the third movie in the franchise where Michael kills people in a public toilet, but definitely the best time it’s been done. Michael throwing teeth at the journalist writing about him is something that is so insane that it’s now burned itself directly into my brain and I am incapable of not tweeting ‘i wish michael myers would throw teeth on me’ at least once every three weeks.

2:46- The gravity that’s given to Michael putting the mask on is mesmerising. Again, I love the physicality of his hands and motions; this movie doesn’t forget he’s a real, physical person.

2:52- I’m obsessed with Michael’s decision not to kill the baby. He’s on a random murder spree, killing anyone who he sees without any particular cause, but he passes right by the baby. Looks at it, and then chooses not to. He made an actual choice not to. I always wonder what was going through his mind at the time.

2:59- Alyson’s costume was a really great way to have her end up with the same silhouette as Laurie in the first movie without having her just straight up dress like her grandma. Nice touches.

3:01- “You are so getting dry-fucked tonight” is probably one of the most wretched lines of dialogue in this franchise.

3:09- Laurie hunting for Michael is so good. She’s so fucking ruthless in this movie; she’s afraid but she’s fucking tuned in completely to her revenge hunger.

3:13- Sartain is a character I really love. The set-up is obviously that he’s Loomis 2, Laurie even refers to him as “the new Loomis”, and he reflects and subverts this in interesting ways. I like that he calls Michael “property of the state”; it’s his own way of dehumanising Michael. To him, Michael is an asset, something to be poked and prodded and studied. But of course, unlike Loomis, his obsessive interest in Michael is far more appreciative.

3:16- This film’s ability to just use silence is so good.

3:17- The first time Alyson sees Michael is incredible. The musical sting. Fuck me. God, I love this movie. And God I love this fucking soundtrack.

3:22- The twist of Sartain turning and killing the cop, protecting Michael and trying to seek out what it feels like to kill is great. Also, the way he stroked Michael’s face? I hate to break it to you, but if you don’t think they were fucking? Grow up.

3:30- I love the drama of Michael’s corpse arrangements. Back to the good old art student days, I see. He’s having a midlife crisis. Every time Laurie and Michael see each other is so fucking powerful. The connection between the two of them is so vibrant. And her shooting half his hand off? Iconic. Really excited to see how the makeup department carries that on next film.

3:39- The final showdown sequence is incredible. Laurie and Michael nearly being on equal terms sounds like it should make it boring, if she can match him hit for hit, but the film never drops a level in tension. It manages to be surprising not just for us but also for Michael, who obviously wasn’t expecting to be on the back foot with Laurie, which only makes the scene more intense.

3:42- WHY IS HE SO STRONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3:43- The performance of Karen screaming she needs help and she can’t do it only to shoot Michael point blank and then have Laurie emerge out of the shadows the way she does is one of the best fucking moments in cinema. The three women working together to defeat Michael and kill him where he stands, absolutely kicking the shit out of him and then setting him alight is fucking incredible. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a triumphant fucking ending in anything. The Strode women’s win feels like such an incredible fucking win. I have no fucking idea how Halloween Kills is going to follow this up.

3:46- I love this movie. The house burning down with Michael inside it is so striking. The way fire is shot is so powerful, and the ending shot of the Strodes? With Alyson holding the knife? A perfect movie.

3:47- I have died.

[lovemesomesurveys]

1:Describe your favorite blanket? It’s a rose gold soft and fluffy throw blanket.  2:How many pillows do you sleep with? 2. I have like 6 on my bed, though. 3:What is a good memory you have with your parents? I have countless good memories. 4:How did you meet your first crush? My first crush was this kid, Philip, when I was in 3rd grade. He was like a grade or two above me. I was into an older guy. haha. 5:What are 3 things you like about your current crush/significant other? I don’t have one.

6:What do you have hanging on your walls? A few canvases (2 beachy ones and 1 giraffe one), a framed painting of a giraffe in a sweater lol, a small watercolor painting of a giraffe I got at a craft fair, 2 calendars with Alexander Skarsgard on them (I kept the one from last year for the photos), a big Swedish flag, an I Love Lucy clock, a bulletin board, and a marker board. 7:What book are you currently reading? I just started one called “The Girl in Cabin 13″ by A.J. Rivers.  8:What was the last movie you watched and what are your thoughts on it? The Invisible Man. It was really good. And creepy. 9:What's the best band that you discovered recently? I’ve discovered a few new artists recently, but not a new band. 10:How many types of social media do you use and what are they? Tumblr, Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, and Instagram. 11:What was/were you username(s) on instant messengers when you were younger? I had a lot of different ones. During my emo phase everything had X’s in it haha. I remember I had loserxfaceex, cutexdollfacee, and stupidmfx. lmao. Those were just a few of many. Others were lyrics and such.  12:What is your first memory of getting in trouble? When I lied about taking my medication for months. My mom found my stash hidden behind my bed one day and I was grounded for a month from the computer. My parents were so disappointed, which is the worst. They had to watch me take my medicine for awhile until they could trust me again. 13:What is an anecdote that your family frequently tells about you as a child? Just certain things I said or did as a kid. One that just came to mind is the one about my grandpa walking all over the house carrying a wailing baby me trying to calm me down while singing the words, “lookin for your mama.” lol. My favorite is the one about how for a good 10 minutes or so my mom and I went back and forth between me touching something I wasn’t supposed to and her tapping my hand to get me to stop. We did that for awhile. I’d cry after she did that for a bit and then go and touch it again and repeat. I was stubborn then and stubborn now haha. There’s so many more, but those two came to mind first. 14:If you could do anything with your hair what would you do? I love dyeing it red, so I’m gonna keep doing that. I love how long it is, too. I just don’t know how I want to style it. I should layer it. I kinda want bangs again, too. I don’t know. I also suck at styling it, I just throw it in a pony tail, braid, or bun and call it a day. 15:If you were to get a tattoo today what would you get? I’ve wanted to get “free bird” on my inner wrist for several years, but I’m a big baby. 16:What do you do when you can't fall asleep? So every night I watch YouTube, listen to ASMR, do some surveys, scroll through Tumblr, and check Pinterest until I go to sleep. 17:Do you prefer to primarily use external help (porn, etc.) or your imagination when you masturbate? 18:Can you remember how many people you've kissed? Yeah, it’s only been 3 people. 19:What is the story of your first kiss? It happened at our high school behind the drama department. We were there for the haunted house put on by the drama department, but we ended up skipping that and just hanging out. His friend was there, too. We ended up going off by ourselves as if to talk about something privately, but he leaned in and kissed me.  20:How open are you with your parents? I share a lot with my mom.  21:What was your first drink? Tequila shot. 22:If you smoke, what is your brand? I don’t. 23:What are your favorite genres for books? Movies? TV shows? Music? I love non-fiction, YA/NA, murder mystery, and psychological thriller books. Horror, psychological thriller, romantic comedy, comedy, drama, and some action and sci-fi movies. I like a lot of drama TV shows, reality TV, crime, thriller, and a few older sitcoms like The Golden Girls, Roseanne, and I Love Lucy. 24:What teachers have made the biggest impact on you? My 4th and 8th grade teacher, Mr. McG. He was my favorite teacher ever. He was the best. He was a teacher that just really loved what he did and cared about his students. He wanted them to do well and helped them do so. He made learning fun. Lol I actually cried on the last day of school in 4th grade. I was so excited when he ended up teaching 8th grade later on and I was able to have him again. My younger brother and a couple of my cousins had him, too, so I still saw him because of that and other times since. My mom worked at Borders and he used to go there all the time. He knew my mom and aunt, too. I also have him on Facebook. 25:Do you like writing letters? In middle school and some of high school my cousin and I used to write notes to each other all the time. I haven’t written a letter since then. 26:What is your favorite episode of your favorite show? I have several favorite TV shows. 27:What position(s) do you sleep in? I sleep slightly on my side with my head propped up a bit. I can’t sleep flat. 28:What is the first thing you remember lying about in your life? I don’t know. 29:What are the three most important traits you look for in a friend? Someone I just vibe and connect with. Have things in common with. Someone I can talk to. 30:Describe the relationship you have with your sibling(s)? My younger brother and I are close. My older brother and I don’t have a bad relationship, but we’re not close. It’s different. 31:How did you learn about sex? I remember we had sex ed starting in 6th grade. My mom also talked to me about it. I think I may have heard some things about it sooner than that, though, like on TV or movies. I remember once when I was a kid I turned the TV on and it was on HBO and there was a porno on lmao. HBO played movies, but at certain times it used to play stuff like that.  32:Describe your favorite outfit? All my many leggings and oversized graphic tees. And my Adidas stuff. 33:What do you like to do when you're sad to make you feel better? So what I do everyday: Tumblr, surveys, YouTube, and watch TV. With the addition of listening to music, coloring, and reading sometimes. Oh, and sleep. Some days I don’t feel like doing anything.  34:What kind of music do you like to listen to when having sex? 35:What kind of french fries are your favorite? I used to love french fries and I’d eat them all the time, but I don’t know I’m not as into them anymore. I don’t eat them much now. My appetite and what I eat has changed a lot these past few years.  36:What is your ideal breakfast? Scrambled eggs with cheese and spinach with country gravy and hash browns. A delicious muffin would be nice, too. And of course coffee is a must. 37:What is your comfort show/book/movie? I turn to YouTube more for that. Particularly ASMR. 38:What are some things you love about your best friends? My mom is very supportive, loving, caring, awesome, and funny. We like a lot of the same music, TV shows, and movies. I enjoy our talks about anything and everything. I like our grocery shopping trips and going to the movies. I love to just spend time together.  39:Do you shave any parts of your body, and if so what parts? Under my arms. Rarely my legs cause hair doesn’t really grow there. 40:What teacher/professor was your favorite and why? I talked about this already.