#the whole thing was horrendous! teeth falling out is the WORST dream EVER!

[otrtbs]

ooh boy am i sure glad i have teeth this morning bc let me tell you, the dream i had last night wanted me to think otherwise

[letterstomilen]

the death of rex lapis (hopefully)

Zhongli, Vampire Alternative Universe (warning: this is mainly expositional bc ive had fun playing around w the idea of how zhongli would be if he was a vampire so idk where this’ll go! there is some childe/zhongli but not much!! anyways happy birthday zhongli i love you :) Zhongli does not make a good vampire. 

Immortality is meant to make you smart.

But what people forget is that you don’t live that long because of wits. Immortality does not mean you are capable; it means that you were foolish enough to get bitten and didn’t think much of it later.

He wasn’t clever when he was held by Guizhong, who smiled sweetly at him as she looked at him, her hair brushing against his skin and cold hands curling the ends of his hair. And certainly not sharp when he failed to notice that her heart wasn’t beating and she seemed to look more at his neck— ”You have a very fine neck,” she informed him when he asked, and he nodded, assuming that it was one of those things sculptors just happened to notice—than his eyes for the majority of the night.

Whether it was out of guilt or disinterest, he doesn’t know. Zhongli would like to think that it was out of guilt, because prior to the night, they were friends. And after she bit his neck, she held him in her arms, whispering story after story as he stuck by fever.

The pain was unimaginable. First—there was shock. And then minutes later, while he wondered why the room smelled more like sweat and blood than incense, he realized that he was still held down.

This must be what quarry feels like, he thought then. But now he knows otherwise; prey would never be held so gently and lay there limply if they could help it. He, while being drained every bit of life, was a willing, sitting duck.

That was before the pain, of course. When she finally let go of him to wash her face—he recalls this clearly: her wiping her face, then licking the blood off her hands with the relish of a child on her birthday, before leaving to the bathroom—he laid there paralyzed. It was, he’s discovered, a bit like being drunk.

Only that the alcohol left his insides in unimaginable pain for days on end. He stumbled when he tried to stand; babbled as he struggled to speak. Even now he only remembers brief flashes of it, when he tore the skin on his arm with his newly grown canines, or hours of rejecting food that he could not quite stomach.

In reality, he was a child—a baby, really, if you were being blunt about it. The weeks that followed were horrendous and perhaps it’s a blessing that he spent the majority of them inhibited, the metamorphosis shedding every part of him that he was comfortable with. But as the days went on, the pain gave way to numbness and numbness gave away to strength.

And when he finally regained enough consciousness to form a coherent sentence, he asked Guizhong why she did it. She, with the certainty of somebody that’s lived for longer than he had, answered, “Well, you’ve always been interested in how the world would change after you were gone. Isn’t this now your chance to witness it?”

Fanaticism with history and predictions could only get you so far. To witness it—wasn’t that just a dream? And because he assumed that rocks were eternal and could not erode back then, he nodded in agreement.

It was a mistake.

Six hundred years ago, Zhongli underestimated the length of his lifetime. One day he’d be talking to somebody about their newborn and it would only be a blink later where their newborn was six feet under, hailed for having a long and blessed life. (What made a blessed life? It couldn’t have been the years –he concluded that every year he was more cursed than before.) Relationships were scarce because he forgot that not everybody experienced time the same way he did.

Days, contrary to his belief, were not fleeting seconds but rather twenty-four hours long. They composed of both the night and day, waking and sleeping hours instead of mindless walks that ended with him apologizing profusely before his fangs were embedded deep into somebody’s throat.

Somebody suggested for him to just do it in an alley and leave them there to be found at morning. But that was too disrespectful—uncouth even. He preferred to invite them into his home, graciously taking their coat and ushering them inside to a table filled with food. Venti always commented on how polite he was to the very end, taking extra care to cook food that he knew they liked—“Last meal before execution, huh?” he’d comment. “Very romantic.”—and making them comfortable until the very end.

That’s not how it started of course.

He tried starving himself at first—much to Osial’s amusement. On a night out, where Zhongli was more attuned to the heat and beating hearts of the people around him than the delicacies laid out, Osial took it a step further by passing him a cup with a thick, maroon liquid that sloshed around in it.

It smelled finer than the silk flowers that littered the gardens, and when he took the cup, he felt one step closer to the damnation Guizhong always spoke of. The worst part was that it didn’t churn his stomach—instinctually, he felt more delighted than he ever felt, a smile cracking his worn face as he inspected the goblet. Only when did he take note of Osial’s smug expression, the glint in his eyes that reminded him of an elusive professor, and the way he watched him carefully the way a parent would watch a child take its first steps, did he hesitate.

It wasn’t benign; it was as if he expected him to trip and fall over after attempting to take his first steps, taking pleasure in both the failure and success. Because both would end with Zhongli crossing the line one way or another, wouldn’t it? And there was nothing more enjoyable than sadism to somebody that’s seen it all already.

Right now he is fighting a losing battle. But he would rather starve than lose it here, so he hands the cup back to him, feeling a little more of his willpower crack.

Animal blood, by all accounts, is disgusting. It’s oily and sometimes he’d get sick, ending the night more ravenous than ever as if his skin were tightening around itself. You couldn’t just drink it—especially if you didn’t know where the animal has been. First you had to kill it neatly—a quick breaking of the neck would suffice, as strangulations were often drawn out—and then you had to clean it.

There was something almost humane in the process. Countless butchers have done it before, so he felt comfortable doing it himself.

It was only when he sunk his teeth into the carcass that he felt more like a vulture than anything else. The blood only staved off his hunger for short periods, so it was more of a painkiller than a sufficient meal.

And Osial found the whole thing to be hilarious.

“How unfortunate. If only Guizhong didn’t choose somebody that insisted on drinking animal blood, then it’d be more enjoyable. You know—if you open your mouth a little wider, you’ll look a bit more like the starving beast you are.” Then he dipped a finger in the cup and licked it as if it were chocolate, sweet and rich.

“Yes… Perhaps I should move onto better things. Do you think vampire blood is like wine? Or would age spoil its taste? I imagine that to a starving beast, there would be no difference—no matter how rotten your blood is, it’s still blood after all.”

Osial laughed and spit the blood out. “Well, you’re not wrong. This animal blood may be disgusting, but to you, what’s the difference?”

He wore his cruelty like a well-fitting suit, the creases shaped like ill-natured grins. Zhongli wondered if that will be him hundreds of years from now, but maybe Osial was always this unpleasant. Guizhong spoke of him the way somebody would talk about their ill-tempered cousin—sure, he’s awful to be around but he’s been a part of the family for so long already.

At the very least, he can provide a good meal. The question will always be for who, and his appetite is insatiable concerning all matters. Some vampires preferred a more barbaric approach of finding somebody, killing them, and then throwing the body away. Others—like Osial—treated it more like a game, drawing it out.

Sometimes he’d target entire families and call it a “feast” inviting others to join him. They were gruesome affairs that ended with many drunk on blood for weeks at a time, and even though he never went to them, he always heard about them.

Directly from Osial of course. Who seems intent on highlighting every small detail, every bloody death or desperate guest that was less than willing in the end but, Osial would say with delight, weren’t they all? As a matter of fact—and here was when he’d bring Guizhong into it, dragging her out of her room with her blueprints and models—Zhongli was very willing, wasn’t he?

“Up until he realized that he had to drink blood,” he’d say, as if he finally reached the punchline for a joke—then Osial would throw his head back with laughter.

And it’s not as if he hadn’t before. Sometimes, if he hurt himself, he would’ve licked the blood. But that tasted metallic—it was nothing like the delicacies that other vampires would set out, naming the meals by age, defining trait (sexual activity, lifestyle, etc.), and gender.

It took him fifty years for his willpower to break down. And he did it in front of Barbatos, who simply watched as he drank, not speaking of the way Zhongli drunkenly rambled for hours on end nor the way blood trickled down his neck and stained his clothing.

The deaths after that were easier. It was almost disappointing how he managed to replicate what Guizhong did with such ease. When he set the serviette over their chest before sinking his teeth into their jugular, he felt just like her.

Only when did he clean them up before burying them did he truly feel at rest. At the time it felt like appropriate compensation—a substitute for the promise he failed to keep for himself. The whole ordeal of washing the blood out of their matted hair and drying it out as he laid them down alleviated the sense of unease.

Guizhong would often watch him while he did it, pointing out certain anatomical features as she did. Her hands would trace over their veins, pressing down on the blue as she spoke. Osial joined them once, but he was so perturbed by the attention Zhongli dedicated to the process that he left immediately.

That was centuries ago.

He, sometime down the line, traded in these rituals for slaughter and abandoned that for mimicking the human lifestyle.

Barbatos would say that it’s been badly done, of course. 

“You make the worst human,” he once said, as he watched Zhongli struggle to stomach garlic bread that he offered him.

 Which could be why he’s now cornered by a vampire hunter.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is often frequented by vampires all around Teyvat—there are rumors of blood dealings with underground groups but the Milileth has never investigated it—and Zhongli, with no danger signals, happens to be one of them.

It doesn’t help that he works there too. The irony that all these years later he never quite rid himself of dealing with dead bodies isn’t lost on him.

And he did hear about the Fatui, because word about people hunting vampires travels fast in a country as busy as Liyue.

“Sir,” the vampire hunter informs him kindly, “you do know that this is a hub for vampires, right?”

The voice isn’t what shocks Zhongli. Neither is the maroon mask that’s hanging by the side of his head—one told to be notorious among only the most vicious of hunters—or the thin outlines of weapons in his clothes.

It’s his eyes. They’re a bright blue, usually associated with the sea on bright days, but they’re more akin to the vampires that Zhongli has seen before with the wild glint in his eyes. It’s jarring with the smile that he adopts as he asks, and he imagines opening his mouth to a pair of fangs.

He knows that he won’t find them though. If the rumors he hears are any indications, the Fatui are above recruiting any vampires that’ll threaten their operation.

“Ah. Yes. I do. I’m the consultant here, you see,” he explains politely.

And shouldn’t that be an indication that he’s a vampire? Hu Tao is notorious for her strange tastes. And he must know of the deals she makes with underground groups, the money and blood that’s traded between them.  

“Oh!” the hunter’s expression brightens as he clasps his hands together. “I heard about you! I got to say—when they told me that the consultant was knowledgeable on all things Rex Lapis, I was expecting an old man.”

He doesn’t wait to explain who Rex Lapis is. This, of course, is a given seeing that Rex Lapis has become a household name, infamous for his butchery of both vampires and humans alike. But a hundred years later, Zhongli hoped, people would forget about him—or maybe get rid of the fanaticism in their voices when they spoke about him.

It’s quite discomforting, really.

“Well, I am old.”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah. You hardly look older than me. Call me Childe—I was hoping that you could, ah, answer a few questions I have on Rex Lapis. The 77th Master said that you’d be available and more than willing. She.. actually, here you go!”

Zhongli takes the paper he offers him, which says If you ask him anything, he’d be more than willing to spend the rest of the day answering it! in her rough cursive that he’s grown to dislike. Of course—the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is not beneath fraternizing with vampires or the Fatui.

But he prefers this much more than the vampires that stare at him as they struggle to place him in their ancient hierarchy. And this does work in his favor, he thinks. A vampire hunter wants to know more about him, Rex Lapis—wouldn’t this aid him in finally meeting his end?

So he politely smiles and gives him back the note, not missing how warm Childe’s skin is in comparison to his own. It’s been years since he’s touched a human without the intention of killing them, hasn’t it?

More than suitable then.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Plot Twist” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Embroiled in the aftermath of two very messy break-ups, Crowley and Aziraphale are preparing to film their first love scene together. But how do you pretend to be in love when your love life is falling apart?

It probably doesn't hurt to be in love with your co-star. (2318 words)

Notes: So I made the chauffeur young Shadwell, but patterned after young Michael McKean, who I was desperately in love with back in the day XD Human au, ineffable wives, mention of past Aziraphale/Gabriel, mostly just fluff

Read on AO3.

“Ooo, I get a limo this time. Fancy, fancy,” Crowley mumbles, not nearly as impressed as she’s pretending to be. She’d much rather drive herself in her own Bentley and in her own sweet arse time. But she needs to keep up appearances. 

There are always two eyes and a camera lens on her at any given moment.

Even though it’s the literal buttcrack of dawn, she’s not alone. There are about thirty asshats, armed with cameras, camped out on her doorstep, climbing over each other to snap a candid of her for the gossip sites. A photo of her emerging from her rented townhouse fresh-faced and ready for another day on set will fetch an easy hundred pounds.

But if she looks like she rolled out of bed, drank a bottle of whiskey for breakfast, then fell down a flight of stairs, landing face-first onto a mountain of cocaine? Those pictures would fetch considerably more.

That’s what she gets for going through a horrendous break-up while having the nerve to be rich and famous.

She thought that when the production moved filming away from London and out to California, the buzz surrounding her personal affairs would die down. On the contrary. It seemed to get worse, in part because the states don’t have the same paparazzi laws the UK does.

She can’t sit down to take a proper shit without seeing a flash pop off.

Despite how she feels about her life at the moment, she went for class over crass. She shies away from hard drugs, and she can't justify looking less than her best, especially in public. 

She refuses to let anyone see her sweat.

“Antonia! Antonia! Over here!” the pariahs beckon, some of them whistling for her attention like she’s a dog. “Antonia! Hey, Crowley!”

Crowley.

That’s the one that gets to her - burrows into the roots of her teeth and makes her head pulsate with rage. It keeps her feet moving when she might have stopped to exchange a polite hello, given out an autograph. And the sick thing is these vultures probably realize that. 

That’s why they keep doing it. 

Who talks to people like that? When did it become acceptable to bellow out someone’s last name as a means of getting their attention? Is it too much to ask for them to shove a ‘Mrs.’ in front of it? Have these glorified stalkers forgotten that, if it weren’t for her and stars like her, the only jobs they could get would be snapping photos of families at Legoland for minimum wage?

Ugh. 

Too much thinking too early in the morning.

She could write an entire essay on how much she loathes pap culture, but today, she can’t be bothered caring.

She’s filming one of the most anticipated scenes of her whole career on one of the worst days of her life. 

That’s the hurdle she needs to focus on.

She slaps on a smile and waves, sliding her glasses down her nose only far enough so they can’t see how red her eyes have gotten from crying.

“Oh, ‘ello, loves! I didn’t see you all here! So nice of you to greet me at 5:30 on this fine winter morning! Oh, careful there. You spilled your coffee. And I think you just kicked that poor lad in the face. You wanna give him a hand up there? He’s bleedin’ all over the pavement.”

Crowley greets her guests this way every morning, killing them with kindness, as subtle an eff you as she can come up with when her brain cells have yet to kick in for the day.

Coffee. She needs coffee. About a gallon-and-a-half of it.

And a shot of bourbon might be nice.

Crowley glides through the crowd, an angelfish among sharks, and comes out unscathed.

A man with brown hair, pale skin, and striking blue eyes, wearing a fitted, black uniform tailored to within an inch of its life, opens the car door for her as she approaches.

"Good morning, Mrs. Crowley."

“Good morning, Mr. Shadwell. It's nice to see you.” Crowley slides into the car, thankful when the chauffeur shuts the door. She sinks into the leather seat and tosses her sunglasses aside. “God!" she moans, burying her face in her hands. "I don't want to do this! I want to stay home, eat ice cream, and drink tremendous amounts of alcohol! I definitely don’t want to be snogging anyone today!”

Aziraphale, who had been waiting patiently with a small box of assorted cookies and wearing a sympathetic smile, frowns. “Wow. Thank you, my dear.”

Crowley's head snaps up, her face splotchy, and red enough to rival her hair in seconds. “Aziraphale! I am so sorry! I didn’t know you were …! That’s not what I meant!" She takes a deep breath in, lets it out slowly. "It's not you, angel. I swear it isn’t. I just don’t feel particularly romantic today.”

“It’s all right. I know what you mean. I feel the same way.”

Crowley squares Aziraphale with a stern look. “Wow. Thank you.”

Aziraphale ducks her eyes, her cheeks turning pink as she offers Crowley a cookie from the box. She wonders if Aziraphale made them herself. She often does bake to pass the time. So much so that she's become quite good at it.

Life hasn’t been treating her too kindly, either.

The cookies are delicate little things, intricately frosted in red, green, and white, decorated as bells and angels and snowflakes in honor of Christmas. 

Because it’s Christmas. 

Crowley is having the worst day of her life a week before Christmas.

Sigh.

There is usually champagne, no matter what vehicle the studio sends to pick them up. She wonders where it’s gone, searching about for it. Crowley and Aziraphale rarely avail themselves to it, preferring to wait till after the shooting day is done to have a nightcap.

But today, it feels like a necessity.

Leave it to the studio to not provide them a bottle of bubbly on the one day Crowley longs to drown in it.

“I didn’t know Shadwell was picking you up first,” Crowley says, starting small talk to ease the tension. Crowley and Aziraphale don’t usually have trouble making small talk.

Today is an exception.

“Well ...” Aziraphale clears embarrassment from her throat “... I was just … you know … a few blocks down the way.”

Crowley sits up further, leans forward with interest. “So you did it. You left him. You left Gabriel.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale replies quietly. “I couldn’t stay. Not after …” She stops and sniffles, turning her head to hide eyes that must be as red as Crowley’s. Crowley doesn’t know.

She only ever notices how incredible they are.

Crowley rests a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s knee. “I know.” 

“Yeah,” Aziraphale says with a slightly bitter laugh. “So does the whole world. In fact, the photogs knew I was leaving before I knew. You should have seen it. I could barely get past them.”

Crowley pulls a box of tissues out of the side panel and offers her co-star one. “They’re bottom feeders. The lot of them. Try to ignore them.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats, feeling exceptionally useless. She’s in the exact same boat, but her heart hurts more for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale doesn’t deserve what she's going through. She doesn’t deserve such a public break-up.

She doesn’t deserve having her name drug all over social media by an emotionally manipulative bastard who thinks he's God's gift.

Crowley gazes out the window at the sky above. The forecast said it would be clear and sunny today, but it’s cloudy and grey. It matches Crowley's mood. Everything is cloudy and grey.

Well, maybe not everything.

The cookie she's eating isn’t. It’s sweet and crisp and melts in her mouth. It puts a smile on her face.

That helps.

Aziraphale helps, too.

Even gloomy, melancholy Aziraphale helps.

Just being in Aziraphale's presence helps.

“Living in the public eye isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, though it sounds as much like a statement to herself as a question for Crowley.

“Not on days like today. But that’s the trade-off for being a star, I suppose.” 

“Would you ever give it up?” Aziraphale asks, taking a nibble of her Madeleine.

“I can’t say I would. You?”

“Nnnn ... no."

"There isn't anything else you wanted to do?" Crowley asks, latching on to her hesitation. "Not even when you were younger?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale bobs her head back and forth. "To be honest, I have always wanted to own my own bookshop. Or perhaps work in a library. But that's only if acting didn't work out. Acting has given me so many opportunities I could never have dreamed of. And all the great people I've met? I mean, this is what? The fifth film we’ve starred in together?”

“It is." 

Aziraphale chuckles. "Some of them have been real winners."

"I know! The roles you get offered when you're just starting out are criminal! Let’s see, we’ve been rogue enemy agents from different factions …”

“High school frenemies …”

“Alien co-conspirators …”

“Jealous rivals …”

“And now … lovers.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says bashfully. “And today …”

Crowley smiles. “We get together for the first time.”

Hearing Crowley say it makes Aziraphale’s heart race, her pulse thrumming so fast it disappears.

The day Aziraphale found out she’d gotten the role of Crowley’s love interest and not the ‘jealous ex’ (the role her agent originally pitched for her since they play adversaries so well) was a dream come true. The studio felt the two of them could take their insane sexual tension (the studio's words, not Aziraphale's, although she doesn't disagree) and use it to fuel the plot of their latest 'friends-to-lovers' rom-com.

Aziraphale has always wanted to be a leading lady. Deep down, she prayed that her first time, she'd play opposite Crowley. Now that it has finally happened, the role of her dreams comes with the greatest perk in the universe - an intimate moment with Antonia.

In front of about three dozen crew members, but still. 

It's Aziraphale's chance to indulge her crush, which she plans to savor since it may not come around again. 

Not in the way Aziraphale wants.

As friendly as Crowley is to her, as flirty as she can be, Aziraphale doesn't know for sure whether Crowley shares her feelings.

“If you don't mind my asking, when did she tell you?” Aziraphale asks.

“She didn’t." Crowley snorts humorlessly. "I woke up, and she was gone. I thought she had left for work. She had a table reading at six that morning, so I wasn’t immediately suspicious. Not until I started noticing important things were missing - clothes, toiletries, her contact lenses, her laptop …” 

"Did she tell you why she was leaving?"

Crowley chews her lower lip at the question she'd known was coming ... the answer she's debating whether or not to give. "Eventually." She glances up at Aziraphale, flashes a sly grin, and decides to go for broke. “She left because she thought I was falling in love with my co-star.”

"Really?" And just like that, Aziraphale dies, her heart shrinking into nothing and blowing away on the wind. "W-which one?" she asks, solely for conversation's sake.

This time, when Crowley snorts, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep from spraying crumbs all over the interior of the limo, it's genuine. "You, you gumball!"

"Oh. Oh!" Aziraphale’s expression of shock is so endearing, Crowley can’t look at it too long. There's a glow about her. It's like staring into the sun. “That's ... that’s funny. Gabriel broke up with me for the same reason. Because of ... you. At least, that's the excuse he gave on Twitter ... and Instagram ... and Facebook.” Aziraphale's glow dims as she talks about her ex. Their relationship, and separation, weren’t as civil as Crowley’s. In reality, trouble had been brewing behind the scenes for a while. 

She’s glad they finally went their separate ways, but it stings just the same, finding out that someone you once loved, who you thought loved you back, just wanted someone to push around. To control.

"That is funny. Not funny ha-ha. Just ... funny. Who would have thunk?" Crowley goes back to her cookie, taking small bites while keeping an eye on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale glances out the window as the limo slows, approaching the gates to the studio lot. Crowley doesn't follow Aziraphale's gaze.

She doesn't need to. 

She knows what Aziraphale sees by the way her face falls.

Aziraphale had hoped they could slip in quietly, but there's already a mob three feet deep waiting for them. The photographers and fans won't be able to see a thing through the car's windows. The tint on them is darker than dark. Still, the whole lot will be on high alert with them here. 

Inevitably, a handful will slip in. 

They may even find their way on set.

Aziraphale doesn't have the energy to deal with that.

Not today.

“How are we going to get through it?" Aziraphale asks. "Filming this scene? The timing is ... uncanny, to say the least.”

“Think of it this way …” Crowley slides across to Aziraphale’s side, sits as close as they're both comfortable with. Crooking a finger beneath her chin, Crowley draws Aziraphale's attention away from the gathering crowd and over to her eyes instead “… we get to spend the entire afternoon making each other feel better. That's how we're going to get through this. Agreed?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lower, flicker to Crowley's lips unintentionally. When they travel back up, she notices Crowley's eyes do the same. She swallows hard. At this distance from Crowley, from her mouth, Aziraphale only has the wherewithal to say one word. She makes it count. "Agreed."

[justimajin]

A Lone Wolf’s Howl ☾ Part 5

⇾ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⇾ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Action, Eventual Smut 

↳ Werewolf AU

⇾ Words: 2.8k

⇾ Warnings: graphic descriptions with werewolf transformations

⇾ Summary: Jungkook and you have been like two peas in a pod for the majority of your lives; whether it was going through the ups of downs of the horrid teenage change, to transitioning to the racing world of attempting to be adults. Simply put, you’ve been inseparable and glued to each other’s sides longer than you can remember. But one fateful day seems to completely change everything you had faith in and you begin to wonder if there was ever a time where you and your best friend even knew each other’s true colors.

⇾  Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

The full moon rises. 

It’s slow and progressive, only emerging when the dreary dark clouds in the sky part from one another and the gleaming glow of the moon radiates down, peeping through the small cracks of your cell. It then pools in through the tiny opening situated above the bars, leaking large amounts of light into the room and it’s when everything snaps. 

You don’t feel it right away – slumped in the corner as your eyelids flutter shut from the abundance of exhaustion, the constant spikes of boiling temperatures and throbbing headaches finally coming to a much tiring end. Being grateful for the chance to garner some amount of sleep, you underestimate the unknown of this supposed transformation of yours when your eyes suddenly crack open with a circle golden submerged in silver and soon the entire process gets turned up by a notch. 

So similar to a calling, your eyes are blown up wide and you instantly try to lift yourself into a sitting position, but a trail of chills are sent down your spine and reaches to the tip of your toes. It’s then the brutal process begins to enfold and you’re twisting and turning in numerous ways. The skin on your hands and feet stretches, drawing up water in your eyes when the cracks of bone snapping all through your body is heard. Your fingers shoot up, rapidly elongating with sharp talons and you can feel your teeth practically push furiously against the confines of your mouth. 

A loud cry rips from your throat, but it doesn’t sound humane in the least. Tears are constantly staining the surface of the cement floor, darkening it as you can’t contain the rapturous silent gasps leaving you by the second. 

You don’t hear the metal door swing wide open and slam against the wall, you don’t notice the firm yank of metal bars being pulled back, and you don’t notice the rough patches of brown fur that hurriedly encircle you, golden eyes trained on the glimmering moonlight shining on you. 

It takes every once of restraint in you to keep holding on when more of your skin abnormally stretches and bones continue to crack, but the jolt in you arises when the silver hair starts to blemish over your skin in horrendous spikes. More tears well up in your eyes and you squeeze them shut. 

It’s disgusting. 

This thing that you’re turning into, it’s disgusting. 

The revolting wave on you is hard to shake off and when the base of your spine suddenly cracks, your eyes can only widen at the pressure being placed on top of it, the pain substantially less than before. 

Before you can even react, golden eyes are watching you from afar, seemingly familiar yet distant. You’re brought back to the moment you were attacked during the night raid, caramel brown whizzing past you before you had plunged into darkness. It’s the same brown fur from that night, you are sure of it, however the relief isn’t brought upon from that recognition – it’s brought upon from how you’ve seen those same golden eyes in their human form before. 

As if it was a signal for you to simply let go so that you could be caught, you shut your eyes tight and try not to scream out in pain when more pressure is applied on you from all corners. It does send a cascade of sends electrifying pain all over your body, but the pressure keeps everything from falling apart and rapidly morphing into a more prolonged pace. 

It still hurts in the same way, but it’s more bearable to have it hit you in a subdued way. However, that’s when the worst of the waves washes over you, a sudden sound of skin tearing has you clench your teeth and drops of blood scattering all over the ground. It channels a large volume of cracks and stretching to follow, all having pressure applied to them. 

You could have sworn for a moment you heard the caramel brown wolf whimper, but it’s replaced with a distant grunt when it pushes closer against you, prepared for the whiplash of bone swinging off and reconstructing right against its fur. 

After a final moment of viscous ripping, the skin begins to heal with a faster coating of silver fur spreading on top and new bones starting to fuse underneath. Your hands have fully formed – long talons with sharp nails on top, as well as new ears and a tail being added too. 

You know the process is complete when the pressure is removed, no longer trails of pain spiking all over your body and your form considerably shifted from your original humanized counterpart. With tired full golden eyes, you raise your muzzle towards the other wolf, sensing him from a distance. Sitting up on your front legs, your silver fur is tainted with blotches of split blood and the cuffs constraining you have been shed onto the ground. 

A wave of vertigo suddenly hits you, causing your paws to mismatch their steps when you try to move forward and you instantly spiral down. 

***

“Y/N.” 

Your bright orbs turn to view two pairs of warm eyes gazing at you and you eagerly run over to them, giggling when one of them crouches down to pick you up and spin you around. Panning out, a small living room comes into view and a roaring fire is in the background, lighting up the room with an atmosphere so similar to the one it was flourishing. 

Its warm. Safe. Comforting. 

Irreplaceable. 

Suddenly the entire scene shifts, the fire exploding out and engulfing the entire room. Instead of a soft warmth, its grueling only seems to burn you from inside out and suddenly two corpses are landing right in front of your small eyes. 

They scatter around, tears welling up in your eyes when your blood coated hands can’t do anything, only left to watch the horror unmask before you. 

A voice calls out for you. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn, searching around frantically for where they are, if they can help you understand why there was so much blood, why the two people you loved dearest weren’t responding no matter how many times you called out. 

“Y/N!” 

“W-Where?” You keep searching, your shaky hands lifting to your forehand when all you can see is fire. 

“Y/N!” You instantly whip around, hearing the sound come from behind you. Willing yourself to stand up, you cautiously walk forward, not wanting to put too much distance between you and the two people behind you. 

“I-I can hear you!” You yell out, hurriedly walking when the voice grows louder and instantly relief washes over you, “I can–“ 

A low growl emits. 

You instantly freeze, cowering back when you hear a whole array of growls, all of their voices combining and growing louder and louder in volume. 

“N-No…” You whisper, turning around and running as fast as you can, not being able to get past their incredible speed when they catch up to you. “NO!” 

“Y/N!” 

A loud gasp unleashes from the base of your throat, violently thrashing at strong arms that grasp onto your shoulders. Streams of water and sweat trickle down your closed eyes and you resist the hold as much as you can, “Come on Y/N, please wake up.”

His voice slowly draws you out, making you wince and turn away when your shoulders are being shook.

It’s on the brink of pure desperation, making you physically lift the blurry mirage pulling you back into forgotten dreams. Slowly cracking your eyes open, you’re greeted to a dark bedroom, all lights turned off save for one small dim one lit in the corner, but its enough to cast a reflection onto the face hovering inches over you. 

“Jung…kook…?” Your voice croaks out, feeling like you hadn’t used it in ages up until now and his shoulders immediately sag down with a light exhale. Your eyes are more open now, looking around the room to discover it wasn’t the same bricked wall and metallic bars you had been seeing every day you had been here and the sudden change brings you to alert. “Where–“ You instantly wince, a cascade of soreness running down the entirety of your body. 

“Don’t try to move much.” He leans back, reaching over to the table next to the bed and pouring you a glass of water. He hands it to you, sitting at the side of the bed as you slowly get up, eyes down casted. “The full moon happened.” 

He quietly mutters it, as if using the words ‘transformed’ and ‘werewolf’ were too much in the moment and the only plausible way to bring it up was that. 

“The full moon…” Your eyes drift away from the glass of water you’re holding and towards the hand that’s clinging onto it, recalling how disfigured it appeared with ripped skin and patches of blood the last time you had seen it. Like an immediate reaction, Jungkook reaches out and presses his hands against yours. 

You wonder if there’s a swell of pride, a sense of satisfaction that you’re now tied to this very place by officially becoming what he is, but his eyes are completely void of any of that. Instead there’s a faint sense of regret still dwelling in them, as well as a drop of concern that throws you a bit off guard. 

You’re not sure where you stand anymore. Here you were, directly inside an enemy base and having the sole moral planted in your mind that this was a place you were meant to get rid of. Exterminate, vanish, any word that could describe what would become of this place after your slayer hands got onto it. However now there’s almost a sense of relished security, one you truly haven’t felt for an incredibly long amount of time.

Your mind wanders to the dream and you shut your eyes, simply shaking it off despite the trail of goosebumps running down your spine. 

After all, A certain person next to you is also plagues your thoughts, making you also ponder if this new profound sense of security was truly coming from just transforming. 

“Brown.” Your furrow your brows, attempting to pull yourself out of your crossing thoughts. Jungkook perks up at the sound of your voice and with a sigh you turn to him, “When I was transforming, I saw a brown wolf.”

At the mention at that, Jungkook sheepishly looks down, twirling his thumbs. “Why did you come?” 

He immediately looks up tense, “Why wouldn’t I, the full moon was out and then I heard yo–“ He shuts his lips, scrunching his nose as the thought itself was bringing him horrible memories already, “I heard you scream…”

Silence encases itself around you for a brief moment, before Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, “You trusted me.” 

There it is again – the same feeling he arises in you when you want to forget everything’s that happening to you, making you want to relieve a time where everything wasn’t spiraling down. And you know exactly what his words are trying to insinuate. 

You trusted him just like you had always trusted your best friend.

It’s not the response he was searching for, but you can’t help not to agree, “I guess I did…” 

The silence dips in again and Jungkook gets up with a sigh, gesturing his hand out. “Come on.” 

“To where?” You attempt to get up yourself but wince again at how heavy your entire body felt. Jungkook notices right away and reaches for your hand directly, lifting you with ease and wrapping your arm carefully around his neck. 

He smiles, “It’s time for you to meet the others.” 

***

You have been placed in a very, very daunting position. 

Heading to the library was as if you were entering a maze, a spiral of hallways branching off to multiple rooms with different symbols and colours painted onto them. It was your first time seeing the quarters of a wolf pack, the entire infrastructure seemingly like it was more ancient and authentic than the wide fields and small homes your fellow slayers had occupied. It was truly fascinating to see but unfortunately your body still hadn’t adjusted and coped with the remains of your transformation, occasionally flinching in pain and having to shift your weight onto Jungkook so you could limp over, but he luckily doesn’t seem to mind in the least. 

By the time he dragged you completely over to the library, you were softly placed onto a comfy brown couch in front of many pairs of golden eyes. Majority of them carefully watch you and Jungkook enters the room and sits down, while others are glowing with curiosity and intrigued. 

An array of hair colours is also distributed among them and your eyes trace over every single one. You encounter a mop of black hair and stern eyes, seemingly glaring at you with crossed arms and unwelcoming eyes. You stray over to the pink haired man, broad shoulders hunched as he shares a similar glance, but his eyes were filled with more interest instead. A flash of red and blonde come together, wide eyes and mouths completely gapping at you. Your eyes finally land on the final individual, brows furrowing at the blueish silver in his hair and especially how unlike the others, he wasn’t facing to look at you. 

The room takes up an extremely awkward silence, making your deep breathes sound abnormally loud and the racing of your heart speeding up with the tick of time. It’s until a certain person finally clears their throat that you want to sigh in relief, taking calculative steps before you as he places his hands behind his back. 

“Y/N, right?” His timbre voice is deep, but the question comes off in a very friendlier manner. However the moment he gets closer to you, an odd wave suddenly overtakes you and you feel overwhelmed – the same frantic symptoms from the silence starting up again like you were going to fall off the edge of your seat. With a simple nod from you he smiles, golden eyes drawing you in, “My name is Namjoon and I’m the Alpha of this pack. I assume you know of us, correct?” 

That particular question makes you falter, “I-I do now…” 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow and you can see Jungkook, who is sitting on your right, look at you in surprise, “Slayers have been aware of our pack for centuries, especially the Crimson Clan. Did you not know of us until the attack?” 

You take a shaky exhale and almost like Namjoon knows, he backs away a bit and sinks into his chair, giving you enough room. You appreciate it, especially when the sudden need to escape the room had considerably diminished, “I’ve been told about your clan but the recent attack…that was my first one.” 

Your answer seems to catch Namjoon off guard, as he pursues his lips and flashes his eyes over to another member – the one with black hair and sharp eyes – before glancing back at you, “I see…” He coughs, clearing his throat, “Well now that you’ve fully transformed, there’s no need to keep you locked in a cell. However, that brings me to another topic at hand…”

Namjoon doesn’t speak right away, instead he carefully scans the expressions of the wolves around him, like he was looking for the perfect spot to view them, “You will be trained by us.” 

Immediately a cascade of morphing expressions is displayed along the room, Namjoon’s eyes drinking every single bit of it before he finally looks back towards to you. He briefly smiles, noticing your confused look right away, “You’re a wolf now, and that entitles that you should be properly trained to understand your new abilities.” 

You nod, glancing over at Jungkook who seems content with the idea. After all you would be integrated into being a wolf by the members themselves, so it wasn’t like this whole process was going to be drastically foreign and bizarre for you to adapt to. 

“But.”

Namjoon’s voice sucks all the energy in the room away, wide eyes all over staring at him. His eyes suddenly turn cold, gold radiating out from the irises and they latch onto you, running a shiver down your spine. “If you even think about doing something to us, this pack, while we train you…”

The next words makes your throat go dry, sucking in a harsh breath. 

“You will cease to exist.” 

[leejeeno]

Liability | College Student AU! Mark Lee.

Description: “I understand, I’m a liability, get you wild, make you leave, I’m a little much for everyone” (Lorde - Liability.) You are head over heels for Mark. You really are. However, every time you get together you break up with him moments later, creating this endless circle of getting back together only for you to break up with him. It’s always like that. Until he meets her. Until he gets tired of your game. 

Genre: angst | fluff | humor Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader Warnings: Mention of past abusive relationship (nothing physical happened and the abuse is not described), reader has low self-steem.

Word Count: 13.100+ (it got too long, sorry.)

You are sitting in the counter of Chenle's massive kitchen. A loud song is playing in the background, some top charts pop with a happy beat. You are sipping from a red cup, filled with flavored vodka, looking like the cliché sad college student in a frat party.

Except, that you can't count Chenle's house as a fraternity no matter how the boys almost live here as they expend more time in the large living room than they do at they own dorms. 

Chenle is the rich boy that has the soul of an angel. An economic major. He lives alone in a house that has way more room than a family of six can need. He parents rented it for him as they always spend a horrendous amount of money on the boy in a way to make up for their emotional detachment. Chenle is a lonely boy that loves his friends more than he lets go and for that he always makes sure that his house is filled with them.

You meet Mark in one of Chenle's famous party. It was Jaemin who invited you, even though you didn't him past the girl's rumors, only recognizing him as the loud and funny guy from your English literature class. You said yes because you like to drink and you like to dance so it couldn't be bad. 

It really wasn't. You met Mark in the roof of the house. He was drunk and watching the stars, you were slightly sober and trying to hide from all the loud and drunk people from the party. Mark met you with adorable brown eyes that burned into your figure.

He had a blond hair at the time, all messed up and pointing into every direction making him look like a little lion. His cheeks were puffed and slightly red and his lips were pouted. He looked like a major happy idiot and if that isn't exactly the type of man that you like.

"Sorry" you awkwardly stuttered. "Didn't know there was someone in here."

Mark lips twitched and he smiled drunkenly at you.

"Nah," he chuckled and made a weird movement with his hand. "It is alright, roof is big enough." 

You sat close to him and spread your hands back to give you support. You stared at the dark sky and left a breath of relief from being away from so many people after hours and hours of partying.

"It can be too much, 'ight?" Mark said, his raspy voice breaking the silence. "The party."

"Oh, yeah." you nod your head in an agreement. 

"Jaemin is the one organizing it. He is... a little too much." Mark said with a click of his tongue. "But he is a really good friend! Don't get me wrong, ok?"

"I won't" is all you offered him, biting the inside of your cheek because you couldn’t think of anything else to say.

He smiled at you again, his drunkenly expression shifting to a sweeter one and your lips couldn’t help but copy his. Mark looked at your bottom lip, then at your eyes and then at the stars. He leaves a laugh and so do you and neither of you bot knows why you were laughing.

You both had stayed in the roof all night, talking about life and the future, your childhood and the past, and what you two want to do after college ends. Mark gets sober and sober but he never stops smiling in that soft happily way, he never gets up to leave and he never changed from who he was when he was drunk. He remained a happy idiot thought all night.

Then, when the sun was starting to rise, he looked at you with shine in his eyes and happiness all over his face. At the roof, at that time, he looked at you like you were the most precious thing that he has ever seen, like he could write poems and songs about the night that he had just spent with you, and you feel your heart blooming with spring flowers, filling with summer warmth and april excitement. You feel butterflies in your stomach and you can't help but ask.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling way to nervous. "Can I kiss you?" you whispered.

Mark wetted his plump lips with his tongue and nodded his head, getting closer and closer until you felt his erratic breath fanning against your face, you could already taste the alcohol and an artificial strawberry flavor. His slender finger slid along your cheeks and then settled in your jawline, pushing your head upward towards his face.

"You are the most beautiful of things." his mouth moved along yours in the most romantic thing that you had ever heard.

After that, you two were a thing. Walking around campus with fingers entwined, laughing about some inside jokes, stealing kisses before classes, making your head spin with adoration and secretly glancing at each other with eyes filled with love and devotion. 

He introduced you to the Dream Boys, as he called his group of friends and you laughed at that name but also thought that it was one of the cutest things that you have ever heard. Just like their friendship.

You had dates, you had amazing sex, you hold hands, you went to late night adventures, you said you loved him for the first time and he said it back with tears in his eyes. Loving Mark was like an endless summer, you never fought, you both loved each other like it could never end.

But it did. Again, and again and again. Because if Mark is summer then you are winter. You aren't exactly cold but you are dry and afraid. You doubt yourself too much and always kept thinking that he was way too good for you, that you didn't deserve this happiness and all those thoughts made sure that you always broke up with him. One, two, three, four and even five times you got away from him but he always found his way back to you. Mark tried to break the iceberg that is your own insecurity so many times that eventually he got tired. 

That's why, now, you are drinking alone in one of your best friend's party while Mark is laughing and dancing with her. His new girlfriend, the one he met after you broke up with him for the sixth time with a lazy excuse. 

Now, you understand why regret is one of the worst feelings that a human being can feel.

"Jeno!" you drawl, calling him. "Can you help me with the assignment for the creative writing class?"

Jeno is one of the best things that Mark gave to you. He is one of the Dream Boys and an English major just like you, he is soft, kind and has the humor of an old man. He is always trying to help and please others whenever he can and his smile can bright everyone's day. When you last expected you two were already best friends.

"Sure, can do" he quietly reply, smiling delicate at you, and brings the library chair he is sitting in closer to you.

"What word did you get?" you question him full of curiosity. In your creative writing class, the teacher came one day with a bucket filled with small papers, which one having a single word written in then, and everyone had to pick one, read your word and write a whole ass poem with that single word to guide you. 

"Everlasting." he answers showing you his white piece of paper. "So, I wrote about an everlasting love, you know the typical thing." 

You almost feel jealous of Jeno because everything that he writes come out looking like a fine masterpiece even when he writes it at 5am, rushing to get it done before his 8am class. He writes about lost, love and happiness like he can understand every feeling. However, in real life, you know Jeno is, sometimes, just awkward as you are.

"Ugh, that should have been me." you complain, taking the end of your pencil between your teeth.

Jeno laughs as you huff once again and leans back into your chair. He finger-flicks you in your forehead and you soon brings your palm to the hurting place. 

"Why are you doing that to me?" you quirk a brown. 

"Because you are doubting your writing skills again, Y/N" you best friend reply with a firm voice that doesn't opens space for jokes or fights. "Now, c'mon, what is your word?" 

You lift one finger for him to wait and with the other hand you fish for the paper inside your jacket pocket. You show it to him. 

"Relationship." you huff frustratedly. 

"Oof!" Jeno brings his hand to his heart and give you a sympathy looks. "That hits too close to home." 

"Yep. And I don't want to write about him but I also don't know what to write about and that's why I need your help." 

Jeno doesn't say nothing about a moment and you just know that he is thinking really hard if he should force you to talk about the big man in question or if he should just let it go. He knows you are avoiding talking about it with him, because Jeno is the one that can see through you like you are made of class. Your words aren't enough to distract him from how much your heart is hurting, at this point he knows you like the palm of his hand and always catch you falling into your old habit of doubting yourself.

Finally, Jeno opts for the second option and you can't help but feel immense relief filling your small body.

"Ok, I will help you." 

You are almost done with your poem, writing about a perfect relationship of a modern married couple. You are almost happy with the way it is all coming along, almost feeling confident in your writing. That goes down the drain when you see Mark in of one the halls of your campus.

His hair is black now and you know that she was the one that helped him dye it, because you have the worst impulse of checking his Instagram story even though you know you shouldn’t. He posted innumerous videos where you could see the reflection on the mirror, he laughing at someone that was at his side, he teasing that someone in a lovely way and then, almost in the end, you could hear her calling him babe and telling for him to stop, her voice mixing with her laugh. You blocked your phone instantly, not wanting to risk to see a photo of them both. 

You are going and he is coming and you know that you will walk by him and there is no scape but having to talk to him for one of the first times since you two broke up for good. You don't know what to say but your feet aren't stopping and neither is his. He has a weird look on his face and you can't tell if he is sad or if he pities you. 

You two get closer and you can feel your hands sweating and your bottom lips trembling. You clear your throat, swallowing nervously.

"Hey!" you greet your ex with a fake smile painted on your mouth. "Are you going to Chenle house this friday?" 

A bunch of expression pass thought his face as you know that he didn’t expected for you to try to keep a conversation with him, and you can't catch any of the emotions but soon, he settles for a grin that is either a happy or an amused one. Either way you know that is a fake one because you know him too well. Despite of that, he doesn't point that you are also faking, so you retributes the favor. 

"Yeah,” he trails off embarrassed. "It is a movie night right, just us?" 

You let all the air that you were holding go and tightens your hold to the straps of your backpack. Hearing Mark saying just us opens a bunch of ideas and memories in your mind, things that you shouldn't be thinking about right now, in front of him. You remind that he isn't talking about you and him, about you two being a thing, he is simply saying that it will be just our group of friends. The Dream Boys and you, the girl that made your away into their lives so deeper that they couldn't let you go even after you broke up with one of them way too many times.

"Yep, missed those." you reply sheepishly, but honestly. "Not that I mind the parties but-"

"Jaemin and his parties can be a little too much, I feel you." Mark laughs breathlessly and shake his head.

You look down at your finger as you remember this phrase from a time where things were different. It seems like it was ages ago and you hate it. 

"Mood" you simply nod at his words. "Well, see you then!" 

Mark nods and then looks down to your face, right into your eyes, his gaze uncertain. You can see that there is too much stuff that he wants to say to you and too much stuff that you want to say to him. You also sees that it is too late and you can't find a place and time to say those things to him, and he can't gather the courage to voice out the things that he wants to say to you because he is happy with his new girlfriend, he really is, and he can't open old things that he isn't sure that later he will be able to close them again. So, for different but close reason, you two swallow your words. 

"Okay," his voice is small and you barely catch it. "Be there-"

"Or be square, I know." you bite your lip, trying to suppress the nervous giggle that is trying to make its way up your throat. "I will see you friday." 

Then you both walk away. 

The week soon comes to an end and before you realize it is Friday after noon and Donghyuck is impatiently honking his car outside your apartment complex.

"Y/N you friend is here!" your roommate calls you from the living room. "It is that one that I always want to punch right on the face." 

"Tell him that in coming, Bella!" you scream back from your room, gathering your pajamas and pushing them into your backpack as tonight everyone is planning on doing a slumber party.

"She is getting ready, jesus!" you hear Bella screaming angrily at the top of her lungs and the honking stop.

You get everything that you need and rushes for the front door but before you can exit you feel your roommate hands wrapping around your arm and stopping you.

"Why are you doing this?" she blurts out as soon as you look at her.

"Doing what?" you reply tilting your head in confusion.

"Going to his friend's house!" 

"They are also my friends." 

"But they were his friends first, not yours." she warns you in a caring tone.

"The relationship between me and Mark is over,” you sigh and pause. “but not my friendship with the boys. Everyone is mature enough to understand that." 

"Fine!" Bella drop it taking her hands off of you but also points a finger at your face. "But don't say that I didn't warm you!" 

You roll your eyes and slam the door behind you, repeating in your mind that Bella is just your friend and she is just worried, that nothing is going to happen, everything is alright and you two are mature enough to separate your relationship from the friendship that you both have with the boys. However, you can't stop from letting her words get to you.

You greet and joke with Donghyuck like nothing is wrong, you sing along with him to an old Taylor Swift song that no one needs to know that you two like, you laugh at his jokes and enjoy the ride as if you are just fine. Pretending that deep down you aren't thinking way too hard about the warnings of your roommate. 

"Y/N? Y/N?" you are brought back to life with Donghyuck voice. "Chop chop, girl. We are here and I want to eat some popcorn before the guys eat it all." 

"Oh." you whispers more to yourself than to your friend.

You grip your things and exit the car, embracing yourself for the worst.

The worst never came. What came is so horrendous that you don't even have a word for it. 

Donghyuck pounds the door like an angry old man and you bump your shoulder into his to let him know that he needs to be gentler. It is Renjun who opens the door.

"Ah, it is the devil!" he grumbles with a monotone voice before turning to you and letting his expression become softer. "I'm not talking about you Y/N, you are a blessing and we are really thrilled that you are here." 

"Is it Y/N?" you can hear Jeno screaming from somewhere inside the house but you can't answer because Renjun and Donghyuck starts bittering with each other.

"Guys!" you elevate your voice and put a hand in their shoulders. "Let get in and watch some gore horror movie, please!" 

"Hell yeah!" they say in unison and finally you get into the house. 

Jeno is the first one to come to you, giving you a big hug and whispering into your ear that you are his best friend and that he missed you and he loves you. You find it all too strange but Jeno is a needy boy so you simply pat his back, says that you love him to and let it go. 

Then Chenle comes with popcorn and blankets. 

"I reserved a whole couch for you, Y/N!" he informs you with a big proud smile.

"Well, you have like five couches so that isn't too hard." you joke and mess with his green hair. "But thank you. I would rather share it with you guys, I missed this!" 

Then there is Jaemin who comes running into your direction and you don't even see him before he is slipping his arms over your shoulder in a protective way and bringing you close to him. 

"You can share with me then!" he says with a flirty voice and a wink that doesn't really mean anything.

Jaemin guides you into the living room and as soon as you get there you realize why they are acting so strange and overprotecting.

There, in a chair that is too small for two, is Mark and his girlfriend. They are rolled up in a blanket, so close together that they almost look like one being. Mark has a gleam upon him as he looks at her face and her hands as she is talking about something that you can't hear from afar, but from the way her pink lips are moving and the hand gesturing that she is doing it seems to be a hell of a good story. 

You had never seen her at a good lighting. You evited Mark like the plague once Jeno told you about his new relationship, taking different paths to get to your classes, eating lunch in the safety of your home or at Renjun's dorm, hiding in the kitchen when he brings her to a party. 

You knew the basic about her because you couldn't help but bug Jaemin until he stopped his game and told you almost everything you wanted to know. Her name is Celeste and she is French but her family moved to Korea a few years back and she is just a junior at your college. He tells you that Mark met her at his chemistry class and you laughed bitter at the irony of it all. He tells you that she was the one who asked him out. From all the things that you heard here and there, she seemed like a smart, bubbly girl that just ooze confidence, and you gather all your strength to not hold it against her because you know it. You know it is nobody's fault but yours, you are the one who let him go and she was just lucky enough to be there to catch him. She did nothing wrong.

However, right there seeing they both wrapped in their own world, holding hands and looking at each other like the universe began and ended with them, you couldn't help but feel a nasty feeling rising in your guts. 

Nobody told you how pretty she is, with her silk blond hair that falls into her back, her perfect nose and plump lips. Her smile. Her eyes. Her accent. Everything seems amazing and you can't help but compare yourself to her. You can't help but feel inferior at her presence. 

You can feel yourself shaking, Jaemin hands on your shoulder, Jeno right at your side, but nothing makes your brain stops. You feel your doubt rising and you finally realize that there is no coming back. Every time that you broke up with him, Mark would navigate towards you again and you two would fit like a puzzle. It was an endless circle, on and off. And, poor you, that didn't realize until now that this circle has been broken as soon as Mark talked to her. Naive you that didn't realize that things really ended and this time there is nothing that can make you guys one again.

You are feeling like your heart is coming apart in a pathetic way, right there in the living room, for everyone to see. And then Mark gets away from his own world with Celeste, he looks at the guys and then, finally, he eyes settles on you.

He looks like a deer caught in the lights.

"Hi!" You greet them with a fake happy voice that almost sounds like a yelp.

Luckily, you are quick on your feet and manages to gather all your emotions before Mark can see them all. 

"Hi." he reply quiet, softer than a whisper.

You can feel the tension in the air rising and it is making the situation all too weird but you don't know how to fix it. You are just standing there, in the center of the living room, looking at Mark and his new girlfriend like they aren't from this world.

Thank god that Jaemin comes to your rescue.

"Which couch do you want to sit?" his voice breaks through the uncomfortable atmosphere.

For some reason you point to the couch that is closest to the chair that the lovely couple is in. Jaemin doesn't comment on it, simply guiding you there and sitting at your side while he hands you the blanket. You can feel Mark's eyes following your actions and you can feel the other boys letting a big breath go as they are finally of the zone of gunfire.

Then, everyone gets settled in like nothing happened at all.

"What kind of gore are we going to watch today?" you question Chenle in the best imitation of a narrator voice that you can find. 

Chenle clears his throat and opens his Netflix account. 

"Ok, so, I know we always watch some gore movie with a lot of blood and stupid things like that," he starts and everyone in the room groans because you guys just know where he is going with it. "But! It's been a long time since we, you know, didn't get together being sober, so I thought we could watch an 80's movie about friendship and things like that, right?"

You hide your face into your knees because you already know that all of the boys are going to break into an argument. 

"Please, I won't watch the Breakfast Club!" you hear Jisung voice rising above all of the others.

You let a huff leave your mouth and you can hear Jaemin laughing at your side, you take your head out of your hiding just to shoot him an ugly look, but that isn't enough to make him drop that stupid smirk of his. 

"Let's do this," he screams really loud and everyone else stops. "Y/N should pick the movie." 

"Why?" you splutter, choking because of his words.

"Because you are my favorite person in the room." 

Jaemin shrugs his shoulders like it obvious and you roll your eyes at him. In the background you can hear Renjun and Jisung faking to be sick at the clinginess, Donghyuck booing and Jeno and Celeste laughing. 

Jaemin winks at you and you turn your head to the other way, felling your cheeks getting redder. You know he means nothing about it, he is like that with everything that has a pair of legs, but even after almost one year of friendship you can't help but blush when he is acting like that.

At your periscope vision you can see that Mark is looking at you and Jaemin like you two are a mystery that is too hard to crack. That makes you snap out of your head.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" you ask Chenle, uncertain. 

"I thought you hated Ferris." his voice breaks in for the first time since you awkwardly greeted each other. 

You look in his direction, but not at his face. You turn your attention to his hands that are seated in Celeste's thigh, making small circles with his thumbs. You sigh. 

"I do." you answer honestly. "But is a classic, you know?"

Then you finally face him and with a force that you didn't even know you had, you send him a big smile. 

"Oh, I hate him too!" she snoops in with her velvety like voice. "He is a douche." 

You take a deep breath and lets out a fake giggle. Celeste is looking at you with nothing but good things in her expression, nothing but want to know you and to be close to the only girl in the room and you can't help but feel like you are going to be sick. 

You don't think she is your enemy, but it is really hard to look at her and know that now she is the one that kisses Mark, now she is the one that jokes with him at ogle hours, she is the one who wakes him up to tell about her weird dreams, she is the one that holds his hands, make him smile. She is the one now. Not you. 

"I guess we haven't met before, did we?" she frown her brows trying to remember about you.

"We didn't," you save her from all the thinking. "I'm Y/N! You are Celeste, right?"

"That's me!" her voice gets mixed with her warm laugh and you want to throw up. 

You look around the room trying to find someone to save you as Mark seems to be just uncomfortable as you are. The first pair of eyes that sets on you is Jeno, of course, always there to help you.

"Ferris it is?" he asks with a soft voice and a knowing smile. 

"Ferris it is!" before you can say anything Chenle screams and already press the play button on the movie.

After that, everything gets a like quitter. Jaemin puts an arm around you and you settle against his torso, the bucket of popcorn between you both. 

Donghyuck is on a couch all by himself and you can see that he is half paying attention to the movie and half paying attention to his cellphone, as he finally got the number to the cute girl in his algebra class. Chenle and Jisung are close together and commenting everything that happens in the movie, making snarking comments while Renjun is giving them some ugly stares to try and make they shup up. It isn't working.

In that moment, it seems like the perfect night. The lights are turned off and the slightly blue gleam that comes from the huge TV makes everything seems like is coming out of a dream. You feel your shoulders relaxing under Jaemin arm, you feel your heart being filled with love and caring for all the boys in the room, even the one that you managed to break and hurt. You think about how grateful you are for that party that put them in your life, all the moments you had with them and how they make your life more exciting than you could ever hope it to be. Even with all the storm, you manage to find moments where you can be happy. 

Then, in the scene that Ferris is singing to the Beatles, your eyes catches Jenos eyes and you mouth a thank you for earlier. He gives you one of his classics smiles where he eyes turns into crescents moons. 

Yeah, even after everything, you are happy that even the bad things brought these idiots into your life. 

The movies end with laughs and screams (those are from Chenle, of course). Jaemin stretch himself and takes his arm from your shoulders. 

"Ok! Time for the gore now!" he announces.

"Finally!" Donghyuck exclaims and they both get up to search for the perfect movie. 

You shake your head in disbelief and let a laugh escapes your lips. 

"Who you make the second round of popcorn?" Jisung quirks.

"It's just microwave popcorn, is not that hard!" Renjun mumble. 

"Yeah, but it's cold and I'm comfortable in here!" Jisung argues and you have to give that to him, it is a good argument. 

"I'll do it." Mark butts in with a confident tone. 

He gets up from the way too small chair and stretches his legs and torso and you have to look away when the shirts rise up to show his defined muscles. You curse him and almost think that he is doing that on purpose.

"I can help you!" Celest exclaim with way too much energy.

Oh, yeah. Mark doesn't need to do anything to get to you, because he already has a beautiful and lovely girlfriend right here.

"It's ok, babe," his voice is low and delicate when talking to her. "Stay here and get to know the boys better, promise they don't bite."

You fish your phone from the pocket of your sweater and pretend to be texting someone, so they won't know that you are listening to their conversation like a pathetic and jealous little girl.

"Ok, honey." Celeste voice is graceful and it seems like she gets happy with everything that anyone says. You almost want to be like that. 

"Y/N can help me!" Mark pulls that out of nowhere and you can't help but widen your eyes and look like he lost his mind.

"Me?" your voice shake as you question him and points a finger to yourself.

Mark only nods and make a movement with his hands that leave you with no options than following him. You shoot a panicked look to Jeno before you disappear into the kitchen, but he is too busy making small talk with the French girl. Great.

"Do you know where Chenle keeps the popcorn?" your ex asks as soon as you two get to the kitchen.

"Top shelve, right there." you point the direction to him. 

You sit in the center balcony, watching as Mark gets out at least six package of microwave popcorn and the same amount of bowls. 

"Shit," you let it escapes you. "We should have gotten the buckets that we used earlier, so we don't make a bigger mess." 

Mark looks at all the bows in front of him and sighs. 

"Yeah, that seams smart." he says with a little smile. "We stupid." 

"We are," you shrug. "But we can force someone else to wash the dishes with the excuse that we already did the tiring quest of turning the microwave on." 

Marks lets a real laugh at that and it feels like you are hearing the sun if it could speak. His laugh is warm and welcoming and you can't help but also let a small laugh to keep him company. 

"Well, I'm doing all the work here!" he points at the popcorns and the bowls. 

You roll your eyes and gets off the counter.

"Here, let me put them in the microwave for you then." you sticks your hand out for him. 

"Hm." he pauses for a moment. "Should we put them all in the microwave and risk burning the house or should we stay here for at least 20 minutes putting one by one?" 

It is a good question. 

"As much as I know that Chenle has enough money to deal with the burning the house thing, I think we shouldn't risk that." 

"Yeah. They will probably be still arguing about horror movies when we get back." 

"Hope your girlfriend doesn't get bored." you can't help but let the venom drip out from your tongue, but you regret it instantly.

That ultimately kills the mood and Marks hands you the first round of popcorn without looking at you. Then, the only sound in the kitchen is the microwave working it magic and the pop sound. Then there's a beeping and the first packet is ready. Mark handles you another one.

Things go like that until right before he is handing you the third packaging. You reach it for it but he drawn it back, looking at you again. He takes a deep breath and ask you the most absurd thing he could ask. 

"Are you-" his voice shake and also does his head. "Are you and Jaemin a thing now?"

He finally gives you the popcorn and you almost drop it to the floor. What the hell? You and Jaemin? The one Jaemin that doesn't leave you alone because every time he sees you, he just need to ask your roommate number even through you always says that he should grow a pair of tidies and ask it himself? That Jaemin? And you? A thing? And even if you guys were, which you are not, why does that concern your ex? Why is he acting like he is afraid that you are going to confirm his question? Is that why he asked for your help? So, he could get you alone and ask you this?

You can feel your head doing turns and turns and if you were a computer you would have now a sign in front of you with big red letters saying Error!, however you aren't and you can't scape the question. 

You take a breath and look at Mark right in the eyes, firm and certain.

"No." your voice is sharp like a knife. "We are not a thing. We are friends, Mark." 

The microwave beeps and the third package are ready. Instantly, without breaking the eye contact, Mark handles you another one. 

"The way you two are acting, it seems like you two are." he says with fire coming from his throat and you know that he has the full intention of getting in your nerves.

"Why do you care about the way I act with other people?" you question him with fury. "I can act like I want with anyone. We aren't in a relationship anymore." 

The microwave beeps again. One more package ready. Two to go. 

"Why is that?" he screams whispers so no one else you hear you two. "Whose fault is that?" 

You stop working. You stop looking at him with blood in your eyes, you stop holding your grounds, you let it all go out. All the fury and the rage of the moments drops out of you and is soon replaced with pain and embarrassment. You never thought that Mark would say those worlds to you. 

They are indeed truth but you never expected the boy that you thought that was nothing but sunshine would throw then in your face with so much bitterness. You can see that his face also drops and that his hands is shaking and that he didn't meant to say that. Well, good, but it is too late now, the words left his mouth and went straight to your heart, to break it again and again. You lost count of how many times you hurt Mark and he hurt you right back.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to say that." he says, voice all soft and his hands reaches out to you but you give a step back.

"I know." you say and your voice manage to stay firm even though you feel like you could cry at any moment. 

"I'm sorry too." you offer. "I'm sorry for making you fight too much for me, I'm sorry that in the end it wasn't the lack of love but my own doubt that got us here. In this mess." 

"Hey, don't say it like that." his voice is reassuring, but that isn't enough.

"It is the truth, Mark." you lamented, rising your eyes to look at him. "I'm sorry for messing us up."

Mark were already gazing you when you looked at him, his eyes has so many emotions blotted in that even you, who knew him better than anyone, couldn’t point them all. Everything you could see was a mix of sadness, disappointment and truth. The last one was the one that hurt you the most, the way he is so ready to be open to you, to listen to you, to hear you. Even after all the damage that you caused to him.

You know that he is one step from saying all the things that he wants to say, all the words that he swallowed before, all the pain and all the love. It is almost all getting out, but you can't do that. Not right now.

"Are happy, Mark?" you mutter, cutting him even before he can open his mouth. "With her?" 

Mark fidget with his fingers, taking his gaze away from your face. He takes a deep breath and you can see that his hands are holding the edge of the balcony behind him so hard that his knuckles are turning white. 

"I am." he replies shyly, but honestly. "I am happy with Celeste." 

You simply nod your head, already knowing that this would be his answer. You knew from the way he talked to her, how his eyes shined upon her and how he acted like everything she said was like the best thing he ever knows. You knew that it wasn’t love, but you also know that it can be. Mark looks at her in the way that he used to look at you, in the beginning, with flushed cheeks and half smiles. 

You knew all of this already. However, that doesn’t stop your cheeks from flushing hot and bright. You need to take a breath to calm yourself down. You count to five. One, two, three, four and five. Then, you smile at him, a little and tight one, the kind that only lift slightly the corners of your mouth.

"Then that's all that matters.” you say truthfully. “I'm happy that you are happy with her." 

"But...” he trails off.

You shake your head, signaling for him to shut up. Despite the smile on your face, you can feel the tears forming in your eyes, ready to come out at any second. You turn on your heels, away from him and focus on the task of putting all the popcorns into the bowls.

You can't bear to talk about it right now, not in this kitchen, not when your friends are waiting for you both. Not when everyone expects you to act like you a bubble of happiness. You can't open this door now, not when you are so vulnerable for everyone to see.

"Not now." your tone comes out soft, barely above a whisper.

Mark looks exasperate like this is the only time he has to says those things, like all his courage will be drained out of him and he will never be able to expose those feelings again. You know better, you know that even though you are not together, you and Mark navigate around each other like two planets, united from a force bigger than you both. There will be a time for him to discuss those things with you, sooner.

Mark seems to get that or to even reconsider. Even without looking at him, you know what is going on his mind. He is probably thinking about Celeste, in the living room, waiting for her boyfriend to return. He is thinking about you and what is best for you. For those reasons, he drops it. 

You two don't talk again in the kitchen. You two splits the bowls and take them to the living room. Like Mark said, the guys are still discussing about which horror movie to watch.

You are sure that it was a good horror movie, because Donghyuck was the one that picked it and he is a master in finding the most horrifying movies on Netflix. However, you can't even remember how the horror movie ended. You can't even point a part where the jump scares got you. You can't even think about a single part of the movie where your mind wasn't focused on Mark.  Your mind kept drifting to the conversation you two didn’t had on the kitchen.

You could hear Donghyuck teasing Renjun because the boy is the one that gets most affected with these kinds of movies. You can hear Jisung and Chenle laughing, Jaemin planning to scare Renjun in the middle of the night with Mark. Everyone is having a good time, even Celeste, the poor thing that is just as scared as Renjun, but it feels like you aren't actually there. Like you are in another plane of existence where the only thing that happens is your conversation with Mark in the kitchen, once and once again playing it all in your head.

"Y/N?" Jeno's voice brings you back to the present and everyone's attention turns to you. "Are you ok?" 

You are caught in the with your hands dirty and you can't think of another excuse.

"I'm not." you stutter to everyone in the room. "I'm fucking scared. Who choose that movie? I hate it." 

The tension is gone as fast as it was formed and everyone in the room turns into laughs. Everyone but him. Mark knows you are lying but he doesn't say anything about it. 

"It's okay!" Donghyuck says with a happy tone. "We'll all sleep together here, if some demon tries anything, we can outnumber it and kick it ass!"

"Oh, so for Y/N you give a lovely encouraging speech but for me!" Renjun rebuked, throwing a pillow in Donghyuck directions. "You guys are planning to scare me in the middle of the night and I know with. The favoritism is showing!"

"Of course, it is!" Donghyuck reply in a childish voice. "Everyone know that the babies of the group are Y/N and Jisung, so yeah, the favoritism is real." 

You shoot Jisung an empathic look and he just shily smiles at you, shrugging his shoulder as he is trying to say that there is no escape from being the baby of the group. You feel a little better after that and let the conversation flow with a little smile on your face. 

You offer to help Jeno and Chenle with the mattresses that they are bringing to the living room while the others take the couches out of the way. You also get pillows and blankets for everyone. 

And then when everything is settled and everyone is laying down, as the classic tired college student that everyone in the room is, the conversation dies rapidly and everyone falls asleep.

Everyone except two people.

You can't seem to find a single drop of sleep in your body, your mind is working way too fast to open space for sleep. You burry your face into your pillow and wait for it to go away. You try to think of the movie, your next week exam, the way you feel like you are falling behind in one of your classes. You try to busy your mind with other problems that you have right now, but that just isn't enough to take your mind away from the elephant in the room.

You lift your head from the plush pillow and look to a specific part of the living room. Your eyes lay first on Celeste, who is sleeping soundly in her mattress, her face is looking peaceful. Then your eyes fall into the mattress that is right next to her, it is empty.

It feels like an invitation. Like a come and talk to me, type of thing. Like an open door to get to a final conclusion. You take your eyes away from the empty mattress and ponders the pros and cons of getting up to find Mark. 

You know where he is and you also know that he has something to say to you. However, you will be able to hear it? Will you be able to hear it and then pretend like nothing happened? Is it really the best option?

You stay in those questions for at least thirty minutes, repeating then in your mind. Finally, you huff in frustration and get up. It's now or never.

When you get to the roof, Mark is sitting there, his face illuminated by the stars and the moon, the things that he is looking up to with so much admiration in his gaze. It feels almost exactly like a year and a half ago. Except that today, nobody is drunk, there is no sound coming from the house and his soft smile doesn't reach his eyes when he looks at you.

"Hi." he greets you quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hi." you greet him back, quieter and softer.

You sit close to him and you blush when you feel his arms brushing against yours, Mark seems to not notice this, or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. The weather isn't warm like the first time, winter is already in the corner so it is cold and you can't help but shiver at the wind. Mark doesn't put his arms around you like he would when you two were together. 

"Couldn't sleep." you confess to him, even though he already knows. "Kept thinking about what you wanted to say." 

Mark Lee is a beautiful man. You think for the million time when you look at him. The black suites him, he has a more mature face, sharpen jawline, deeper eyes and a more grown up vibe. However, you know him this time. You know how he likes his breakfast, you know how he drinks his coffee, you know how it is to make sex with him, you know his fears and his desires. You know how he isn't sure that he is in the right path, the right major, you know that he likes the stars and he likes to dance. You know that he writes rap songs about everything that he feels and keep them away from the world, only showing them to you. 

(You wonder if he already showed them to Celeste, but you don’t pursue this thought, as it can do more damage than good.)

You definitely know that he is a happy idiot but you also know that he is more than that. So much more. He is the most hardworking person that you even met, he is easily flustered, he is romantic to the bone, he is smart and kind and everything that you could hope to find in someone. You know that he is your biggest regret. 

Like he can read your mind, Mark finally turns his gaze to you and asks the big question.

"Do you remember when you told me that you love me for the first time?" his voice is so quiet that you almost loose it in the wind.

"I do." you simply nod your head.

You were both sitting in the couch of your house. Your roommate was away for the weekend, gone to visit her parents. Mark took you to the supermarket and helped you buy everything that you needed, he insisted that you got into the shopping cart and he carried you around, running, laughing and screaming. You felt like you were back in your fifteens and you were actually living those romance movies that you liked to watch nonstop. 

Then he took you home, never letting go of your hand. You made dinner and then sat down in front of the TV to watch a show that you both enjoyed at the time. You remember that you two weren't going out for too long, only a month and a few days, but you felt it. Deep into your bones. Into your hearth and into your soul. You could feel it flow into you and get bigger and bigger and you couldn't hold it to yourself anymore.

"I love you!" you declared between one episode and another. 

Mark almost dropped the plate that he was holding and looked at you with widen eyes and parted lips. You said, ok this is it, you said it too soon, too bold and he doesn't know how to act. You thought that you had screwed everything.

However, Mark soon put his plate away, coming closer to you to hold your face in his hands. His finger caressed your cheeks and you inclined into that feeling, closing your eyes to pay attention in his breathing fanning your face, the way his fingers were shaking and how warm his hands were. 

"I love you too!" he gushed between laughs. "So much!"

Then his lips met your and you could feel his soft smile into your skin. He pressed his lips into yours so softly that you felt like you were the most precious thing in the world. 

"We were happy, weren't we?" you ask him with tears in your eyes.

"We were." he reply with honesty dripping from his velvety tone. 

Mark can't take the way you are looking at him anymore so he looks back to the sky and you copy him. You don't try to stop your tears this time, letting they flow through you, all the pain getting exposed to him, leaking trough you and dripping in the wooden of the roof, you could feel that you are coming apart at which word that leaves his mouth. Mark still doesn't hug you or makes any movement to console you. 

"Do you remember the last time we broke up?" he quirks, his voice coming out hoarsen. 

"I tried to forgot. Turns out, I can't." you reply with an ironic laugh. 

You were crying and so was he, tears expressing your brokenness, your force running out of you. Mark was sitting on your bed begging for you to stop.

"Why you don't trust me?" he asked between sobs, holding so tightly into your blanket that you suspected that it could rip apart at any moment.

"It's not that, Mark. You know that." you hiccups, forcing his hands away, away from you, away from your blanket. "I'm not enough, not for you. You need someone who is happier, who will love you better. Someone that believes in themselves and is confident enough to accept your love."

"But I don't want anyone else!" he snapped, tears running freely in his face. "I love you and you alone, Y/N. Why can't you accept that?" 

"How? How can you love me, Mark?" you yelled right back. "Look at me, I'm too hard to please, I'm not too good looking, my personality sucks and..." 

Mark got closer to you and hold your face into his hands, whipping out your tears and kissing your forehead innumerous time. You wanted to hold him into your arms until you would change your mind, but you didn’t. Your hands stayed heavy by your side, not giving him any form comfort. 

"We talked about this, babe." he whispered and his mouth brushed against your skin. "Remember in the roof when I said that you are the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen? It was and it is the truth. I love you. All the things about you. Your personality and your face." 

You shake your head. You can't believe in him, not after everything that happened to you. All the things that you never had the courage to tell him or anyone else. All the things that your ex made you believe and now, years after that relationship ended, you can't get these things out of your head.

"This is my decision, Mark." you got away from his hold and looked right into his eyes. "I'm not going to bring you down. I'm not going to let you get stuck with me and my mess. I don't want to." 

You could see that he was tired from going through this every time. You could see that he wanted to try, just one more time, but he didn't have the energy to do so. Not after everything that you made him go thought, all the pain you caused to him and all the hope you have him to just broke up with him again.

Mark got up, looking at you with tears in his eyes, for the last time. Giving you one more chance to not let him go.

"This is the last time." he said to you. "If I get out of this door, I'm not going back." 

You wanted to scream it, let it flow through you, tell him how much you love him and how much you wanted to be with him, but you didn’t know how. You didn’t know how to be with him without hurting him over and over again. In the end you didn't say anything. 

Mark walked out of your room, leaving a trail of sadness and regret behind you, leaving you to sob quietly in your room by yourself.  Only a month later he found Celeste. 

All the memories are too much for you and you can't help but sob quietly into your arm, not wanting to make too much sound and wake up everyone else.

"I'm sorry," he offers for you. "I'm sorry for how I said it. I was angry and tired and sad." 

"I know. I was too. I'm sorry too." you laments. 

Mark nods and accept your apology. His eyes then turn away from the sky and he looks at you with tears in his eyes, a broken expression painted in his face and you almost jump to hug him and tell him that it is ok. You two will be ok. 

"Why you didn't believe in me?" he asks you between softly sobs. "Was it something that I done?"

That broke you more than everything did before. All this time Mark was thinking that he was the one that did something wrong. All the time he has been blaming himself.

"You didn't!" you quickly answer, your voice raising a bit. "It was nobodys fault but his.”

You finally open up about it, about the way you’ve been hurt, about the thing that you feel weakest, about the past that you can't let go. “I had a shit ex. Abusive. He would tell me horrible things, that nobody would love me, that I was ugly and not enough for him. That I needed to change, that I needed to try hard to be who he wanted me to be. And I tried. I tried so hard, you know? But in the end, he left me for a friend of mine." 

You take your eyes away from Mark, feeling weak in front of him. You can't handle the way he is looking at you, pity mixing with anger and sadness. 

"Before he left me, he came to my parents' house and screamed at the top of his lungs that I was nothing, that I was just a game that he got tired of playing and I was hard maintenance and that everyone that falls for me is doomed." you sobs more and more as the words leave you for the first time in forever. "My mom had to call the cops to throw him out. Never saw him again. Moved to Korea just to make sure of that." 

At that, at your words, Mark finally hugs you with all his strength. You buried your head in his neck and cry in there, feeling his warmth around yourself, feeling his smell, feeling his arms. You cry there in his arms, the place that you feel most secure in the world. 

Mark put his head in your hair and takes a deep breath. You missed being this close to him so much and he missed you right back.

"This isn't true." he whispers into your head. "I'm sorry that it happened to you and I wish I could make you see that It isn't true. None of these things are and this guy is a fucking douchebag, ok?" 

You nod against his neck and you can feel his hands moving gently up and down in your back.

"I wish I could make you see how beautiful you are. How amazing you are." he still whispering softly just for you and the stars. "How much you helped me how much I grow up with you. How much you taught me and how grateful I'm for you. I wish I could make you see how I still love you." 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat and you can't do anything except hold him tighter and closer to you, crying even harder than before. 

"I wish I could make you see those things. But I can't. I can't, Y/N. You need to do it yourself. You know?” he quirks, lips moving against your hair. “And it isn't weakness to seek for help. Professional help. It is strength. And you are the strongest person that I know. Please, help yourself because you are the only one that can do it." 

He goes a little back even though you are holding so tight into his shit that it seems like you will never let it go. Mark holds your face into his hands and brings you towards his face, making you look right into his shinning eyes.

"But I will be there for you." he says, looking at you with a gleam in his brown eyes. "And all the boys are too. We love you and we will be right here whenever you need us, you know that right?" 

You look at his eyes, searching for anything to feed your doubts but you can't find anything. Right in front of you is Mark, holding your face between his big hands, saying words of love and hope. Right in front of you is the boy that showed you love, that made you believe in it again, the boy who told you all his secrets, the boy who trusted you with his life. The boy who fought for you more times than anyone ever did. The boy that loves you and would never do anything with the intentions of hurting you. 

"You are the most beautiful of things." you whispered to him, turning your head slightly to kiss his left hand. "And I love you. I still love you. You will always be part of me. Thank you for everything, Mark Lee. Thank you for being yourself." 

He laughs a little between his cries and brings your forehead so he can touch it with his. You can feel his breath against you skin. You can feel his fingers shaking and you can feel all the love that he is sending to you right now. You close your eyes and leans into that feeling. It is a great thing, to just be here with him, sharing the love that you both have for each other, telling things that you both wanted to tell since that day in your house. 

When you came to the roof you carried a thought with you. You said that everything began in this roof so it is only fair that it ends at it too. 

However, this is and ending. This is the beginning of something new. 

You and Mark get down from the roof only after the sun has risen. You two stayed all night talking about your relationship, all the laughs, all the cries, all the goods and all the bad. Then, together, you came down.

Everyone in the living room was surprisingly awake, they seemed worried but that changed as soon as they saw you both coming from the corridor that leads to the roof. Everyone stayed still, giving each other weird looks. 

You looked at Celeste and she seemed so small and lost, looking between you and Mark with betrayal and hurt in her eyes. Mark must have seen the same thing because he turns to you with a questioning look. 

"Go." you give him a kiss in the forehead and let go of his hand. 

You let him go to her, you see as he takes her hand and leads her for the backyard. You see him walking away with her. And it hurts. It really does, but less than before, because this time when he gets back you will be there at his side. As his best friend. 

"Is everything okay?" Jeno is the first to get to you and he ask this with the softest voice he can find. "Are you two back together?" 

"Nope." you reply with a click of your tongue.

"Then why are you smiling that much?" 

"Because I know everything will be alright." you simply says. "And also, now you have a rival as my best friend." 

At that Jeno fakes a groan that soon turns into a smile that you are gladly to join him into. He leads you into the living room and you hug all your boys.

You are finally feeling happy without needing to deal with a heavy burden into your shoulder.

Everything will be alright, as you said.

Six months after that and everything is indeed alright. You found a good therapist that was helping you like no one else could, but of course that was only possible because you are being open for the help.

You wrote a poem about Mark for your creative writing class. Jeno helped you with that. The poem was about a beautiful relationship that transformed into an even prettier friendship. You wrote about how you can love the same person in innumerous ways. 

You gave a copy to Mark and he cried like a baby. You two seemed to cry a lot after that day, you do cry but you also talk, about the future, the past, your classes, your fears and your dreams. You walk around campus with him by your side, laughing about some inside joke or teasing each other about something cringe that you used to do when you were a couple.

(Deep down you still missed those things, but those are the kind of secret that you don't need to share with Mark.)

You even began a truly friendship with Celeste. However, before it could really grow, they broke up. Turns out that she wasn't really the one. She had to go back to big old Paris two weeks after that night and her and Mark tried the long-distance thing for almost a month before it couldn't work out anymore. 

"Hey, how are you and Celeste?" Renjun asked one day when you were all sitting in a big table at the coffee shop near the campus.

Mark took a deep breath and looked at you.

"It wasn't working out." he simply answered.

You looked at him too.

"I'm so sorry Mark, I know how you liked her." you said with empathy.

You two never talked about that anymore. You didn't make an effort to get back together and neither did him. 

Then, one day, you were sick of your roommate. Not that you don't love her, you do, but the finals are just around the corner and you can't help but groan every time she invites her study group to your apartment to discuss something about physics, calculus, or whatever else they are discussing that day.

You know that Renjun's dorm is your safe space, but he has a test in two days so you don't want to bug him. Chenle and Jisung are away, visiting Chenle's parents for some reason that you didn't quite understand. Jaemin is, well, Jaemin which means that he will only text you back four hours later.

So, you text Mark and Jeno and hopes for the best, hopes that one them you will able to help you. 

Jeno replies quickly saying that he is doing some paper work for his teacher as part of his internship. You groan, damn Jeno for being such a good student. Them, five minutes later, Mark also text you a whatsupp, doing nothing want to come here?, and thats how you end up in his dorm in a thurdays afternoon, when you should probably be studying for you own finals, just like Mark also should be. Neither of you mentions that.

"Hey," he casually greets you when you get there. "not to be rude Y/N, but why are you here?" 

"Rude!" you jokingly point out. "My roommate was talking about physics again and I needed to get out." 

Mark make a face and you chuckles at it. You two hates physics. 

"My roommate is out for a basketball game," he says. "do you want to go and watch it?" 

Mark's roommate is a guy named Jaehyun, he is a year or two older than you both, and is a little celebrity in your college, due to his good looking and his heart of gold. You think he is a little overlooked, because Mark is clearly prettier and smarter (your own roommate says that you are biased, so your opinion doesn't count.)

"Uh, I don't really want to..." you trail off, biting your lips and looking at the two comfortable beds. "But I will go if you want!" 

Mark ponders for a moment, frowning his brows. "I don't think I want to." he drawls, sleepy. You let a soft and caring smile escapes you and he do the same. 

"Take a nap and then grab some food?" you offer to him.

"That sound too good, let's do it." he grins at you before jumping on his bed.

You lay down on Jaehyun's bed, because he isn't here to see it, so he will never find out and will never get angry. Mark gives you a quizzing look, however he doesn't voice out what made him so confused.

You two lay down in a comfortable silence for a good half an hour and when you are almost there, almost drifting away to the land of sleep, Mark brings you back.

"Sometimes I still miss her," his voice is quieter, softer than a whisper, you barely catch it. "But sometimes, I'm happy she isn't here anymore." 

You turn into the bed and face him. He is looking straight to the celling and you don't blame him, he probably been wanting to say these words out loud for so long, but he didn't have the courage to. Now, when is just the two of you, he feels more comfortable to do so, because he trusts you like he trust no one else. 

You let his words soak in, not making a sound, waiting for him to put everything that is troubling him out into the privacy of his small dorm room. 

"I wonder what that means, you know?" he quirks, but it is more to himself than to you. "Does it mean that I didn't like her that much?" 

He takes a deep breath in, holding the air. Mark then turns his gaze to meet yours, his eyes are carrying pain and doubts, a feeling that you know well. A feeling that you've been trying so hard to get rid of.

"Did you felt like you liked her when you were with her?" you ask, softly with velvety voice. 

Talking about Celeste doesn't hurt you like it did before. You don't if it is because now you don't have the heavy burden of feeling that it is your fault, that you were the one who let him go and now he is with someone that isn't you, or if it is just because you've been closer to Mark these past months in a way that you never been, in a way that you can understand and respect his feelings even more than before.

You don't know if it is the lack of jealousy because they aren't together anymore or if it because you are actually improving with the help of your therapist. You hope that it is the last one.

"I felt like I could love her," he confesses, only to you. "If he had more time I would definitely fall in love." 

You hum, nodding your head. "Then there you go, Mark. You liked her, see." 

That doesn't seem to settle down his worries, his brown is still frowned and he is doing that little face that he does every time that he thinks too hard about something.

"But, then, why do I feel happy that she is gone?" he asks you like you have the answer to all his problems. 

You don't have that. However, you do your best to help him.

"Do you still like her?" you tilt your head to the side, chewing on your bottom lip.

"Nah, don't like her like that anymore." he replies with his voice dripping with certain. 

"Ok, then you are happy because you don't like her anymore and you aren't being forced to maintain a relationship with a person that you don't like." 

You shrug your shoulders like is the obvious thing, even thought you had to think really hard and really quick to give him an answer. Mark made a sound that seems like a sound of agreement. 

But then he questions you again.

"Then why do I miss her?" 

You sigh, a little tired. You didn't expected to have a heart to heart conversation today, but you don't want to leave him hanging. You roll again into the bed, now facing the celling, because the words that are about to leave your mouth are too coward to go out while you are facing him.

"I miss you sometimes," your voice is barely above a whisper. "Like, you are always around and I love your friendship, but..." you trail off.

Mark doesn't say a thing.

"I miss how we were, I guess." you continue, voice now shaking a little bit. "I miss our relationship because it was part of my story, I miss our relationship because I was happy with you and for a bunch of other reasons. I think it is the same for you and Celeste, you miss her because once you liked her and once you were happy with her. Is just that, don't think too hard about it." 

Mark doesn't reply right away and, truthfully, you didn't expect him to. You just entered a dangerous zone with your worlds, a past that you two talk about, but not without feeling this sense of sadness. Not without being taken with the thoughts of what if. Not without the regret. 

"I miss you too." he admits after a while. "Once you loved me?"

"I always love you." you says, honestly and with a firm voice. "I love you right now."

Then you roll your head to the side and your gaze meets his. He is looking at you with his mouth apart and deer looking eyes, like he didn't expected that you’d blunt that out that easily. Well, it is the truth and now, after all your improvements, you don't see why you should hide the truth. Even if he doesn't feel the same anymore.

"I love you rigt  now too." he confess, lips curving into a satisfied smile.

You don't take your eyes away from him. You simply look down at his lips, they are a beautiful pink color, begging to be kissed. You blush hard at that thought and let an awkwardly giggle leave your mouth. 

"Ok." 

"Wanna grab food now?" Mark offers, voice rising to a happier mood, like nothing happened. 

"It is a date." those words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

"Ok. A date it is."

You didn't knew if he really meant that.

Now, three months later you are again at a party that Jaemin organized. There is a loud song playing and you aren't hiding in the kitchen this time.

You are screaming the lyrics to the song with Jeno while you jump up and down with Renjun. Mark has an arm throwed around your shoulder and is happily sipping some stupid drink that Jaemin made. 

You play beer pong with Jaemin and is almost winning when he disappears into the crowd with your roommate. You laugh so much at that Jeno has to catch you so you don't fall.

You scream and shouts Chenle’s name as he is participating in a contest of who can drown more shots in a minute. He owns and the other guy throws up into the carpet.

"I almost feel bad about not telling him that Chenle is like a pro at shots." you chuckle, turning to Mark and elbowing him lightly in the ribs. 

"Nah," he answers. "That guy is a pain in the ass and he deserves to lose to Chenle." 

You laugh even more and agree with him. 

You dance, drink and party like you do best with your boys by your side. You feel really happy to have them. You really do, but they also can be too much. 

"I'm feeling a little tired." you complains to the nearest person you can find.

It turns out to be Mark.

"Do you want to relax in the second floor?" he asks you. "We can play some video games there. And I can beat your ass."

"Oh, Lee, you are on for it." 

He does beat your ass. Almost ten times at Mario Kart before you get too angry to play the game and gets up to go to the balcony.

The second floor has a big balcony with a pretty view of the city. From there you can see the people walking the street, laughing and having a good time. Cars moving. Restaurants and bars playing some music. You like that, you like to watch the people. 

"I wonder why I don't come here too often." you whispers to Mark who is now by your side.

"Because the roof is better to see the stars." he says like is the most obvious thing. 

You laugh at him and slightly push him back but he doesn't even move. Mark gives you a dorky smile and you roll your eyes.

"I like people watching and you like to do some star gazing." you state it. "Here we can do both." 

Mark looks up at the starts and the sky is really beautiful tonight. Then he looks down at the people and they all seems interesting, all in their own worlds, all minding their own business. Just like stars in their own galaxies.

"Like Hannah Montana said," he doesn't even finish the sentence and you are already laughing. "The best of the both worlds." 

You throw your head back with a laugh and he settles for a smile, satisfied that he was able to make you laughs. 

You get closer to him until your bodies are touching. Mark has his head up to look at the stars and your gaze is fixed in a cute restaurant that seems to be a hit between couples as more and more of them walk out of the establishment with silly smiles and red cheeks. You smile found of them.

"Taeyong asked me out." you drop it out of nowhere and the boy next to you almost chokes. "You know, the art major from the fourth year. He is pretty." 

"I know who Taeyong is!" Mark answer with a weird voice. "What did you say?"

"Nothing yet." you shrug your shoulders. You know the game you are playing.

You turn your body towards Mark and looks at him with an innocently expression, battling your eyelashes at him. He looks at your eyes and then down to your lips.

"What should I answer?" 

"No." 

Mark says way too fast but that doesn't seem to embarrass him. You smile at that and he smiles back at you. It feels right.

The lights of the second floor are turned off and the only lighting is the one coming from the street below or the moon above. Mark faces looks angelical from this lighting and you can't help but take a step closer to him. He does the same.

You two are so close that you can feel the heat radiating from him and he can feel how fast your heart is beating. You look at his face and you think about how you two grow up in the past six months. How your connection got stronger than ever, how you spend together all the time you guys got to spare and how you have been more open to him than you have ever been to anyone before. You think about all the new things that you learned about yourself and about him. You think about all the parties and all the movie nights. You think about all the lunches he brought to you and all the coffee you gave to him.

You think about your friendship and you think about how you never stopped loving him. That love only got bigger and bigger. 

You look at Mark's face and you catch his eyes falling to your lips. You think about everything you two went through. You see him wetting his lips with his tongue and you think about all the times that you could swear that you guys would kiss but that kiss never came. You think about how amazing Mark Lee is and how you are so sure that he is the one.

You think that he would never hurt you and you would do your best to never hurt him again. You guys hurt each other in the past, that's true, but now. Now you have nothing but love to offer him.

So, you can't help but ask. 

"Mark Lee," you say as you get closer and blushes your lips against his. "Can I kiss you?"

[wxldchxld]

Every third question for our favorite fox

Oh y’all better buckle up.

003. Does your character like coffee better, or tea?

Beck’s not allowed to have coffee. The world isn’t ready for that degree of energy. But also she just enjoys tea better.

006. What sense do they most rely on?

It depends on the form she’s currently in. For instance in hawk form it’s definitely sight, fox form most of it’s hearing, bear form it’s smell. In her human form idk if she relies on this the most but she’s probably at least the most aware of her sense of sight?

009. Do they believe in happy endings?

Sure. She’s not really the Debbie Downer type, and she fully believes she could have been truly happy with Harper if not for her penchant for self-indulgence and her overwhelming anxiety when it comes to conforming to society.

012. What makes your character embarrassed?

I’m not super sure this is a feeling Beck has tbh XD. I have a whole headcanon about this somewhere that I’ll link if you can find it. But like, it’s near impossible to embarrass Beck.

015. Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?

Beck’s not very likely to fight at all. She loves to stir shit up and rile people that she doesn’t like especially (or ones she wants to fuck lmfao), but when things turn into a real fight even if it’s just an argument, Beck’s more likely to head for the door. She dislikes confrontation. It makes her very uncomfortable.

018. Your character wakes up to find that war has been declared. What do they do?

Probably leave. If leaving it’s an option she’ll keep her head down until she has to do something. Like I said Beck doesn’t do fighting unless her back is to the wall and she has no choice. If she had to take some sort of role in a war it would probably be more espionage related.

021. How do they display affection?

All of the ways. TBH Beck is very affectionate even to her friends. Most prominently she wants to touch you and be touched. She’s very touch motivated. But she’ll also make things like knitting scarves and hats or cook food for her loved ones. She spends a lot of time with that person rather than running off into the woods constantly. She’ll sing to you a lot. And basically she’ll just kind of actually listen to you and respect you. Like if you tell her something to do she’ll do it rather than being an asshole.

024. What do they consider ugly in others physically?

Beck’s not super down with bodily hair. It’s one of the big reasons that even tho she’s bi she doesn’t fuck a lot of dudes. She’s never understood why women’s hair is supposedly gross and men can just grow a fur pelt on their legs/arms/chest/underarms and no one says shit. She’s a million times more likely to sleep with a man who shaves. 

She also just finds a general lack of hygiene to be a real turn off. Beck makes it a point, even living in the woods, even without the constant use of magic, to look presentable. She doesn’t like people that look nasty. Wash your hair. Take a bath. Brush your teeth. Otherwise she’s taking a hard pass.

027. What is their idea of perfect happiness?

Beck’s idea of perfect happiness is finding someone who will live with her and travel with her and they can be wild wanderers and roam the world together unburdened by people. Where her familiars are happy and safe and she’s free.

030. Do they believe in the afterlife?

Sort of? Witch opinions vary just as much as ours when it comes to what happens to you after you die, with each theory holding a significant amount of weight. Beck’s in the unique position where she doesn’t often thing about it, because she knows her “death” it’s really going to be a thing. As a feral witch her life, unless abruptly ended through murder, is going to end with her spirit being reclaimed by the wilds, and never returning to the world of men or the life she knew before.

033. Do they keep their promises?

Beck generally doesn’t make promises. If she does, whether or not she keeps them depends on who you are to her. She’s a liar and a manipulator and a con-woman, of course she’s going to break promises. When she makes a witch’s deal (something she can’t break) she makes sure only to make them if they’re stacked in her favor and she’s able to fuck someone over if the desire strikes her.

Beck does try to keep promises she makes to people she genuinely likes. Like there are a couple of promises she made to Fen when they were kids, and even though he’s been warped and changed over the years, she still keeps her promises to him, even though he can’t hold her to them.

036. How honorable is your character?

….I mean not really at all.

039. What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?

Imprisonment, probably? Or being forced to change who they really are.

042. What is their greatest achievement?

She’s a very good shifter and a decent dream walker. These are both abilities she was born with, sure, but having any control over your dream walking takes a lot of time and practice, and most witches never learn to take the form of anything aside from their clan symbol.

045. Does your character have any chronic medical conditions?

Not really

048. Do they have any allergies?

She often claims to be allergic to people who annoy her but that’s 100 percent not true and she’s allergy free. Witches on the whole tend to be very healthy creatures.

051. If they knew they would die tomorrow, what would they do today?

Probably contact Fenris and Harper and Cora and her amma. Mostly Fenris and Harper, because there’s still a lot unsaid between them. She’d want to say goodbye to Cora and her amma, but one of her greatest fears is dying without talking to her brother one last time and letting him know some things. Harper isn’t as dire to where it causes her anxiety to even entertain the thought that she might die without having one last talk, but if she KNEW she was dying, she’d want to try and give Harper closure, to let her know their fall out wasn’t Harper’s fault, and to tell her that she still loved her.

054. Does your character want power or authority of any kind?

Nah. Beck’s attracted to women that have both power and authority, but that’s just her type. Beck herself really has no interest in being in charge of anything. That’s too much responsibility. And the only power she needs is the power to do what she wants—which she has.

057. Has your character ever killed anyone?

It depends on the verse. In her verse for t100 yes she has killed and more than once. Each time was out of self defense and she had no other options.

060. What is your character’s attitude toward education and learning?

As an educator myself her attitude toward education is frustratingly apathetic. She was so severely neglected as a child that paired with her dyslexia she never really learned how to read beyond some very basic shit. Math was always frustrating for her. Service was hell for Beck because when it comes to reading spell books she’s useless, and she’s not particularly interested in learning spells she doesn’t feel will be of use to her. So like, she’ll encourage other people if they want to get an education, but she’s going to take a pass.

063. How well does your character handle difficult people?

Fairly well? I guess it depends on the type of difficult. Like I have a verse with @lcgioned where Beck’s life goal seems to annoy Lexa into an early grave, and yet she gets along with post-dictator Octavia just fine. Beck doesn’t really have a temper, and she doesn’t really do fights, so it’s hard to be too difficult for her. She just kind of rolls with it. 

The kind of person she really struggles with is the one that wants her to conform. The one that tells her she can’t act that way or scolds her because her behavior reflects poorly on them. If Beck doesn’t already like that person, for example she’s more than willing to behave to make Asha look good in my verse with @ashayara, then they can fuck off. Respect from Beck, in large part, comes from affection, and she doesn’t just listen to people because she should or she was told to. She won’t be controlled and micromanaged, so in order to curb her less desirable habits you have to be smart and endear her to you so that she’ll care about what you think. Because in general she doesn’t care how people see her. She doesn’t care if they think she’s strange or crazy, she’s living her gd life and it’s not their business.

066. Does your character prefer city life or being out in nature?

Nature. She doesn’t even tolerate cities well. They make her irritated and sometimes, if she’s subjected to them long enough, physically ill from all the anxiety they cause.

069. What about your character is heroic?

Hahahahahahahahahahaha………. I don’t know?????? I’m so sorry. I don’t see anything about Beck as heroic. Beck won’t like, stand by and let you murder a child or something horrendous if it’s like, right there in front of her. Like if she’s faced with something that she can put a stop to without it being too much of a risk to herself or her familiars she’ll do it, but Beck isn’t going out of her way to help people because it’s the “right” thing to do and she’s rarely going to put herself in danger unless it’s someone she loves on the line.

072. In a Dungeons & Dragons game, which class would your character be? (wizard, fighter, bard, priest, ranger, etc.)

I have never played D&D, so I honestly couldn’t answer this? I would assume either a wizard or a ranger just from what the name sounds like, but Idk.

075. Is your character ticklish?

Very and in all forms so think on that for a good while.

078. How emotionally stable is your character?

Beck lives in a stone fortress of denial that can only fall if you hit her with some major shit. Like she’s obstinately, often unshakably happy. Even if she slips for a few seconds, even in the worst and weirdest situations, she’ll turn around and be a smiling, ball of sunshine after a few seconds to gather herself.

Of course she does have a history of abuse, and especially in verses like ours she’s going through a lot, so she isn’t on as firm a footing as normal, but Beck’s not easy to shake in general.

081. Is your character religious?

Not really? Which is strange because she’s nominally a priestess to her people. But it’s more of a cultural thing. Like, witches in and of themselves don’t worship gods per se, but they hold their traditions and myths and stories in an almost religious regard. It’s very strange, I have a couple of deeper headcanons on it, but to make it kind of simple: Beck isn’t at all what we would likely call “religious” in our society.

084. Describe your character in one word.

If I’m being serious? Asshole. If I’m being nice? Witch.

087. How would your character describe themself in three words?

“One Foxy Lady”

090. How bodily expressive is your character?

I’m… not super sure what this means. If it means is she like, an animated person to talk to then yes. Unless she’s specifically trying to stay calm and use that to influence the emotions of something else, Beck’s never still. She’s almost kind of dizzying to talk to not because she moves in any crazy, major way, but just because it never stops.

093. What is your character’s goal in life?

To be free.

096. How do they move and carry themselves? What energy do they project?

Beck’s energy is best described as “a lot.” She’s got a big presence and like I just mentioned, she’s very active and animated. She doesn’t walk around slumped over, shy, or ashamed of herself. Unless she’s specifically trying to like fade into a crowd, she’s generally someone who grabs the eye because she’s confident and active and engaging to deal with and it’s almost overbearing over long periods of time.

099. Do they talk to inanimate objects?

She’s got a weird concept of inanimate. Like, in her world there are spirits all over the place, and they have a varying degree of sentience depending on the spirits, their age, their type, and the population density. So she’ll compliment a waterfall on how lovely it’s looking today but a small part of her thinks that like the spirits in the area take note of that and enjoy it even if they’re only semi-sentient. She struggles with seeing how those things aren’t transferable to stuff like computers and cellphones. In cities where most of the natural, open spirits that interact with everything without their own ulterior motives have been driven out, there aren’t any “cell phone” or “computer” spirits, but she’s so in the habit of it that (generally when she’s frustrated she’ll forget) she’ll curse at them or ascribe motive to something an inanimate object is doing.

Harper once bought Beck an extremely expensive sports car, only to immediately sell it after Beck amassed 4 speeding tickets in a month and got her license suspended because, as Beck put it, “the car wanted to go fast.”

[perlocutionary]

Following Orders pt. 7 - Mitch Rapp

Description: Y/N and Stan have to deal with a new recruit being sent in. Training a handsome, reckless man is one thing. But can she keep her hands to herself?

Stan is more than upset when the hotel bill arrives. But is their punishment really a punishment?

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader - AMERICAN ASSASSIN

Title: I fucking followed an order. Word count: 2153

A/N: Again, I totally forgot to update! I’m so sorry! But here it is :)

Part 1. *  Part 2.** Part 3**. Part 4** Part 5* Part 6**

One jab into his side, one against his shoulder, and Mitch is staggering onto his knees beside me, an angry huff slipping past his lips. The other recruits’ laughter runs through the facility, my head snapping back to immediately shut them up. “If you’re planning on just winging it, I swear to god you’ll get killed before you know it. That goes for all of you.”

I hold my hand out for Mitch, who grins up at me and wraps his long, calloused fingers around my wrist to hoist himself back onto his feet. “Expect the unexpected. If you’d see me on the streets you wouldn’t think I’d jam a knife down your throat – but I would.”

I’d asked Mitch to help me out with the newer recruits to show them different techniques in fighting someone bare-handed. His fingertips are dancing along the small of my back, trailing toward my ass as he gives it a firm squeeze. A harsh glare is thrown in his direction as I shrug him off, walking away from him and toward the young men and women staring intently at my next order.

“And I’d be happy to do so if the opportunity arises. Now, everyone, pick up a knife and –“

“RAPP! Y/L/N!” Stan’s voice screeches through the intercom and I duck, covering my head and neck at the loud, intruding sound. I slowly raise back to my original height, shaking my head as I look around at the shaken-up newbies. “Fucking hell man – I thought we were under attack.”

“Never flinch, didn’t Hurley teach you that, Y/N?” Mitch grins as the tip of his tongue pokes the corner of his mouth, the smug grin he’d sport after a quick make-out permanently etched onto his lips. “From a gunshot, yeah. But he never trained me to be used to the sound of his voice.” I laugh it off, brushing my shoulder as I turn to walk out of the gym and toward Stan’s office.

“Practice what we have shown you. I’ll be back later.” I yell to the recruits as I hold the door open for Mitch to pass me, a wink cast my way as he does so. As soon as the loud echo of the closing doors resonate through the otherwise silent hallway, Mitch’s arm is thrown over my shoulder, hauling me against his chest.

“Aren’t you touchy-feely today.” I sigh, my hand raising to rest on his taut chest, rubbing small, lazy circles over his clothed torso as we slowly thread through the empty halls. He hums in return, pressing his stubble covered cheek against my neck before his lips pucker and press against my inflamed skin, teeth slowly grazing over my pulse point.

His voice is a mere whisper. “You look really good in spandex.” A snort leaves my lips, pushing his head away from me as I turn around, walking backwards as I throw him my smug grin. “Mhm. But let me guess – you think they’d look better on your bedroom floor?” The mischievous twinkle in his eyes speaks louder than words ever could.

His arm reaches out and his fingers curl around my elbow, yanking me towards him, our chests colliding harshly. His lips are feverish against mine, his whole demeanor showing just how much he needed me in this moment – and he wasn’t the only one. The only thing I could think of was what had happened in that hotel room – over and over again.

I don’t know what was going on between Mitch Rapp and I, but I did know that I liked it. He seemed more protective, less violent toward me, and he’d be touching me every chance he got. Usually that meant that I’d be hot and bothered in my own bedroom late at night, thinking about what could’ve happened if I were allowed to do what I wanted to.

He’d purposely rid himself of his shirt, his upper body covered in sweat, whenever we were training. He’d lick his lips, just because I mentioned how it seemed to snap me out of reality. He’d flex his arms, biceps big and taut as I couldn’t help but stare at the veins running along his forearms. He’d grind his hips against mine whenever he got me down onto the mat, forcing me to keep my moans to myself when he retracted, and I was thrown back into said reality. I disconnect our lips, my tongue swiping along his bottom lip before I fall back into pace with him. “What do you think Stan wants us in for?”

I nod my head as Victor passes us, his toothy grin causing Mitch to glare at the man until he was out of sight. His voice drops into a whisper, his fingertips dancing along my inner arm. “I’m hoping a mission, just us two. It’s been forever since we had some alone time.”

As much as Mitch’s words and implies shook me – not to say aroused me horrendously – a chuckle slips me. When Mitch wasn’t thinking about murder, it seemed his mind was set on sexual actions. “Ah yes, because that seems logical. Go kill off this terrorist cell in Italy and you know, while you’re at it Rapp, fuck Y/N into her mattress when you have the chance.”

“Doesn’t that sound like a dream to you?” Mitch’s lips connect with my jaw and he pulls back just in time for us to round the corner, Stan Hurley impatiently awaiting our arrival. I roll my eyes dramatically at his statement, opening my mouth for a witty reply of my own before Stan speaks up.

“You first, Y/N. I’ll deal with you later.” Stan’s finger accusingly points at Mitch’s face, the threat evident in his voice. I swallow loudly, glancing from Mitch to Stan before passing the older man, and disappearing into his office. “You stay here. And if I notice you eavesdrop I’ll make sure to cut both your ears off, Rapp.” Stan throws another threat at Mitch and I can’t help but giggle, looking over Stan’s shoulder to throw Mitch a kiss.

His eyes light up deviously as he nods his head briskly, retraining his gaze on Hurley. “Yes sir.”

“Y/N…” Stan sighs as he closes the door behind him, his hand motioning for me to take a seat. Instead of going for the chair on the opposite side of his desk, I walk over to the sofa and let myself fall down on the worn green leather, throwing my legs up and relaxing for the first time since Mitch and I had returned.

“What’s up? I know I shouldn’t have broken that kid’s nose, but he was so arrogant – and he deserved it. Who the fuck bites people?” I half-ass my excuse, although I didn’t mean to do it. I had Mitch spar with one of the newer recruits that possessed almost as much anger as Mitch had when he first arrived here – but with less calculation to his actions.

I didn’t expect him to attack Mitch with his razor-sharp teeth as well. I only did what I had to. Stan stops in his tracks, his head slowly turning, frown set onto his brow. He opens his mouth a few times, without a word leaving them, before the smallest shake of his head follows. “Did he bite Mitch?” An affirmative hum from me widens Stan’s eyes. “Oh my god – but that’s not why you’re here.”

He seems to stall, and I sit up straight again, leaning my elbows onto my knees as I wait for Stan to elaborate. “I – uh – don’t want a detailed debriefing of your mission,” Stan starts, his back still turned towards me. I jump a little when he briskly turns on his heel, his hand loudly slapping on the coffee table, a white piece of paper peeking from underneath his large fingers. “But I do want an explanation what this is.”

He lifts his hand and I lean forward, eyes scanning over the white piece of paper. I purse my lips to refrain myself from the grin that wants to break through as my cheeks redden visibly when realization dawns. “That’s a hotel bill, Sir.”

“I know what it is, Y/L/N! Care to explain why I am receiving a kind reminder to pay up for damaged goods.” His voice is an angry whisper and when I dare to gaze up, I see his cheeks almost as red as mine – although I might feel the slightest bit of embarrassment, his vessels are dilated with rage.

I start fumbling with my fingers as I cast my gaze to the coffee table once more. “I uh – Got carried away?” I am trying my best to be sincere, but it was just too damn hilarious. I had never thought that Orion would’ve to pay the bill for Mitch and I trashing those two hotel rooms – purely on accident, of course.

Another sigh slips past his lips as Stan tiredly drops onto his chair. His eyes slowly drift closed, his hand running along his face in pure exasperation. “You broke the bath tub, Y/N. The bath tub. I can’t even come up with an explanation as to how.”

He sounds so defeated, like a dad when their kid comes home drunk after their first party. I suppress the humiliation that wants to seep through at the thought of Stan knowing exactly what Mitch and I had done, scraping my throat to answer my boss in front of me.

“I thought you didn’t want me to give a detailed debriefing?” An animalistic growl leaves Stan’s lips and he snaps onto his feet, stalking rapidly toward me. I raise to my feet as well, stepping away from the sofa and toward the door as I try to suppress the smug-eating grin – and fail.

His finger is dangling in front of my nose, almost touching the tip, as he glares at me. “Don’t get sassy with me young lady, or I’ll make sure the next month is your worst nightmare.” Instead of making another witty remark, which would surely lead to me scrubbing the men’s bathroom for a whole month, I merely nod my head and press my lips together.

“It’s simple. You’re not going on that mission with us, neither is Rapp. Gives you some time to think your actions through.” Stan takes a step back, fully aware of the shock that dawns on me and the anger that follows immediately after. I blink rapidly a few times, pursing my lips before sinking my canines into the soft, red flesh.

“You cannot do this to me! I fucking followed an order.” I bark, throwing my hands up as I take a daring step toward my boss. He holds his hand out, as if that were to stop me, his head shaking in disapproval of my actions.  “I have no idea what you did, but I’m sure as hell I didn’t give that order.”

A sigh leaves my lips as I rake my brain for a possible solution that’ll change Stan’s mind – although I know that there is nothing that could ever do such a thing. I try to reason one last time. “Ah, come on Stan. You know you’ll need me out there! Don’t do this – just let me scrub the toilets or something.”

He walks back over to his desk, picking up two manila folders that I know hold Mitch and I’s secret identities. “I know I will regret this, but maybe this way, you’ll both learn. You’ll stay here, train the recruits and wait upon our return. That’s an order.” His gaze flicks back up to me, a small smile etching onto his lips in hopes of make this less of a blow.

A groan leaves my lips, my feet stomping toward the door. I yank it open and spit my last argument before slamming the door behind me. “I’m not sure if I should take your orders anymore, Hurley. See where they got me.”

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Mitch immediately bolts upright from his slouched position against the wall, his hand cupping my neck, almost in a chokehold, as he turns my focus on his. “We’re not going.” “Going where?”

“To Moscow. He’s punishing us.” Mitch’s gaze seems to ignite in anger and I feel his fingertips tighten around my neck, my body already struggling to breathe. “Mitch. Mitch!” I squeeze his shoulders, his hand immediately dropping their firm grip and I grin at him. “Which inevitably means we have the whole Orion facility practically to ourselves.” I watch his face contort into pure excitement as I can’t suppress the grin of my own.

“Rapp!” Stan’s voice booms through the closed office door and I step away from Mitch, but not before I press my lips firmly to the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “Now, go play angry. I’ll see you later.”

Taglist:  @camibirdieboo @xnathiagreyx @ssweet-empowerment@itsbilescallmebiles @daddycolorado @allthefandomwrites @lobrien  @rebeccaannex3 @fuckwhateverfuck @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname

[eene-fangirl]

Ed, Edd n Eddy Big Picture Show Chapter 2 [A Fanfic Novelization]

The Eds  remained completely quiet. Ed squeezed both of his friends slowly backing into the corner of the room.

"This is all your fault, sockhead." Eddy whispered to Edd.

Edd felt his face heat up. "My fault? Funny, isn't it, how it's always my fault when yet another of your amazing scams goes awry."

"Yeah, well, I didn't see you try and stop me," Eddy muttered. No, Edd did. Edd explained countless times what may happen if he pressed the red button. And now look what happened. "You should have known it would go bad!"

"And boy did it go bad." Ed chimed in.

Their talking seized upon hearing a creak from out in the hallway. They were going to be in here forever if they didn't know what was happening. Eddy spotted a glass on the refrigerator. Sliding Edd over towards the door he handed him the glass.

Immediately knowing when he should do Edd pressed the water glass against the door. He heard shuffling,  Rolf was muttering to himself while Kevin was instructing everyone to be quiet.

The only thing that Eddy could hear was his own heart pounding, not only from being in his brothers room, but what the kids may do to them if they were found.

Edd started looking calmer when he heard Kevin say that they weren't here.

Just when they thought they were going to get away, both of them heard a crunching noise. Ed found a piece of buttered toast and was unaware of the noise it made.

The glass slipped out from Edd's hands and landed in his puddle of sweat.

In a matter of seconds the door began rattling around as the kids finally found their victims.

"We are not long for this world!" Ed hollered realizing it was his piece of toast that caused them to get caught.

Edd ran to the windows and opened the curtains. Only they were unable to escape that way. Eddy clawed at the cemented bricks. "What's with my brother and these stupid bricks?!" Eddy exclaimed not even noticing that he was walking into Edd.

They tripped over the rug which revealed a ventilation shaft. They were running out of time as Edd noticed the door breaking off its hinges by the second.

As Edd and Eddy struggled to open the ventilation shaft, Ed was thrown off the purple stuffed camel and slammed into the wall. A red box with a glass opening caught his attention.

"More bricks, Double Dee!" Eddy yelled out when he tried to escape through the vent. His brother really made it hard for someone to escape his room.

"Ooh, this-a-way guys!" Ed yelled grabbing the two of them. He put Edd and Eddy face to face with a red alarm box.

"'In case of movie break glass?'" Edd read. Movie?

"Bingo!" Eddy said smashing the glass in seconds. "My bro is always prepared."

What he pulled out was a lone peanut. His brother always did this! He made every plan have a flaw in it because he thought it was funny. Misery was his happiness.

A fist smashed a hole through the door and Kevin’s tattered burn smudged face poked in. "End of the line, dorks!"

The peanut flew out of Eddy’s hands inadvertently landing in Ed's throat.

"It was just a scam, Double Dee, how could it go so wrong?" So terrified beyond words Eddy actually latched himself around Edd in full fear hugging his friend so tightly.

Obliging to the hug Edd also wrapped his arms around his friend. "Eddy, the laws of probability can be a real mean..."

Ed got their attention when he bit down and broke the nutshell of the peanut.

It was a key! "It must be for my brothers car!" Eddy said opening the passenger side door.

"Eddy, we're too young to drive!" Edd soon ignored his own warning when a piece of the door planted on the ground.

All three of them got in the car. Empty pizza boxes or other stains inhabited the car.  Eddy was able to get the key through the ignition, but when he turned it, nothing happened. The car was working when he set it in this spot, but that was eight years ago.

Rolf smashed his head through the door, breaking the chains along with the impact. A large bump had grown out from his head. It look as if he were hit in the head pretty hard. "Rolf's vengeance will be slow and painful, like Papa's charcoal anecdotes, Ed boys!"

The cul-de-sac kid's smashed through the door. Edd found it a relief that none of them were dead, but they all looked horrendous. A bear trap snared Jonny’s head! Nazz was still inside the magician box and her hair was torn to pieces.

As Edd and Eddy cringed in fear, Ed had an idea and immediately took into action. He smashed his feet through the floor of the car, like one of those Flintstones cartoons.

Just when Kevin grabbed the mirror, Ed ran from the room and smashed through the wall of Eddy's house.

Kevin, Rolf and Jonny fell to the grass and took a moment to collect themselves. They were all injured enough already from the scam.

"They're getting away, guys!" Nazz called out seeing the Eds begin to destroy the cul-de-sac as they tried to escape.

Rolf let out an ear piercing whistle, which Wilfred immediately came to. "There is no escaping the son of a shepherd!" And he was off following the Eds in the red car.

Sarah and Jimmy peaked behind the house. They watched the Eds run past in the car. What happened to the kids? Rolf had the side of his body bitten off. And Nazz, was she naked under that box?

"Yowzers, what do you think they did this time, Jimmy?" Sarah asked

"Whatever it was, it must be worser than ever." Jimmy pointed out.

The two youngsters followed at a distance so they wouldn't get hurt.

The Eds were almost at the end of the cul-de-sac. It would be safer to get away from here. The kids looked hostile this time and didn't look a if they were fooling about killing them.

"I think I'm gonna be sick!" Edd yelled gripping his seat. He could feel his stomach churning from the events circulating.

"Not in my brothers car you're not!" Eddy warned. Did it matter though? His brother hadn’t been around for some time.

Just then, Plank landed on the windshield. The boys screamed upon seeing the creepy boards painted, now fading smile, stare deep into their souls. "Let 'em have it buddy!" Jonny hollered with his head still ensnared in a bear trap.

Ed swerved the car until he leaped in the air. The car came crashing on top of the sides of the fence in the lane. It just kept rolling along.

Edd tried to catch his breath, beginning to hyperventilate. Were they actually going to skip town? Would his parents actually come home for once and see he wasn't there? They actually spent some of their time with him before working got in the way.

"So much undone, unsaid," he belted out. "Mother and Father will be so annoyed.

Suddenly, Ed screamed in pain and began to slip out from the car. Rolf was following underneath with his teeth sinking into Ed's leg. This would be his first kill.

"They got me, guys! I'm a goner! Save yourselves!" Ed whined. Eddy watched as Ed's fingers slipped one by one. Were the kids going to kill him? “Don’t forget about me?” As he watched his last finger slip off, the memory of their first meeting came to his mind.

"See yah!"

"Ed!" In an instant Edd and Eddy grabbed their friend and will all their strength pulled him out of the grip of a maniacal looking Rolf.

"Curse you, Ed bo-" Rolf smashed into a dumpster as the Eds were ricocheted into a forest of trees, smashing them to pieces until landing in the junkyard.

Kevin was perched high above and watched the red car run past. He quietly made his way down the trash and saw the other kids coming. He made jesters about what they were going to do. They agreed and Kevin was off first.

Before Eddy could glance at his rear view mirror, Kevin smashed against the car rocking it off kilter. Edd looked at Kevin, seeing that the boy was no longer there. The devil looked as if it had replaced him.

Kevin rammed the car a third time making it somersault off a pile of junk. Eddy gripped the wheel as he was thrown out the window and was literally running along side it.

This chase was more insane than anyone thought. As soon as Eddy was spun back inside, the car broke through the junkyard, and spun out of control down the creek.

"Prepare for Rolf's water-laden bladder!"

"Plank's freaking out!" Jonny screamed at the back of everyone.

"Double D, you got any great ideas?!" Eddy asked. Glancing to the passenger seat, Edd wasn't able to answer the question. He finally threw up into a bag relieving his churning stomach. The rickety car chase was not helping anything. His face took a pale coloring when he saw Kevin's head reach for the door handle.

"How do you like your faces, fried or scrambled?" Kevin asked opening the car door.

The door was thrown open. Ed wasn't losing without a fight. He shut the door and Eddy rolled up the windows. It would hopefully keep them safer from just a little longer.

Their hearts jumped at the sound of thumps on the top of the car. Wilfred's tail speared through the top.

The head of the car was ripped off. Exposed!

"Time for payback!" Kevin yelled.

"Plank wants first crack at 'em!"

"Rolf will use their hides as a crutch for Nana's goiter!"

"Like, thanks for the help up here, guys? Duh!" Nazz said upon nearly falling off the car.

"It wasn't me, Eddy did it!" Ed yelled before his head disappeared into his shirt.

"In your dreams!" Eddy backlashed. He struggled for a moment, knowing to himself that this whole thing was his fault. No, it wasn't. Nothing was ever his fault. "It was Double Dee!"

Edd was left alone to face the kids as both his friends hid. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the playground.

"Uh, excuse me," he spoke, as always being polite. "I'll be right back."

Edd grabbed the merry-go-round which spun them all around. One by one each kid let go of the car and went flying in different directions. The hood ripped off leaving only Kevin.

His devilish eyes almost reminded Eddy of his brother when his last scam took a turn for the worst.

"You dorks ain't seen the last of me!" Kevin hollered when he was thrown off the car.

Edd's fingers slowly slipped off one by one.

Once they did, they catapulted through the sky, over the trees, until the kids could no longer hear them.

"DOOOOOORKS!!!" Kevin screeched at the top of his lungs. "I can't believe it. I almost had them!"

Sarah and Jimmy watched from a far and listened to the older kids from a far. Jonny slowly slipped away as Rolf ranted off and Nazz followed Kevin.  

The children were alone as they all left to hunt down the Ed's.

"Golly gosh, Sarah, they're gonna hunt down the Ed's! What on earth did they do?"

"I don't know, Jimmy." What were they going to do to Ed? Would it be worse then one of her poundings?

"Think of what they'll do to them, Sarah. It'll be worse than soap in your eyes. Worser than polyester chafing!"

"Let's have a picnic and watch!"

Both children agreed and walked off through the now destructed cul-de-sac.

[inkstainedfanfics]

Secret Santa, Uhh I can try my best with this heist AU but uh if it's not too much trouble could you link an OC with references rather than a reader one. I'm so sorry I just don't know if i'll have too much time for the AU but i'll do my best honest I will. The refs would just be in case i'm so sorry.

All right, no worries about the heist AU then! You can write/draw something normal and cute, just regular Newt x OC! I think the one request I really have is that in some way it’s fluffy? I don’t really have a specific prompt in mind, just something sweet.

Below the cut I have facts about the OC I chose. She’s based on a character I created in a game I play, so there’s some info that comes from that (like the daggers part or a couple of the names in the excerpts I pulled). I hope this helps. If you have any questions/need any more information, lmk.

Catriona Hawke

• Eye Color: Light Green

• Hair Color: Red in Ponytail

• Skin Color: White

• Age: About 24-ish

• Gender: Female

• Height: About 5’6

• Faint Scar across Nose from fighting someone that made fun of her sister when they were younger

• Tattoo of a crow on her shoulder blade in memory of an old friend of hers

• Muscular from working out and working physically demanding jobs

• Has a bad shoulder that will hurt after lifting something heavy

• Very headstrong, not afraid to stand up for people she loves – this gets her in trouble sometimes, but she doesn’t mind as long as the people she cares for are safe

• Sharp-witted, clever, sarcastic to those she doesn’t know well

• Her sarcasm is softer, nicer, when she’s with people she knows well, and she’s often motherly toward them, sometimes bordering on overprotective. She’s definitely fiercely protective and would do anything to help someone she loves.

• She has one younger brother and sister – they’re twins (Ava and James). Catriona adores them, though she hesitates to admit it, preferring to tease them instead. She’s especially close with her brother; they used to pull pranks on their sister and other neighborhood kids when they were younger.

• She really doesn’t like touch, but doesn’t mind reaching out to touch a hand to comfort someone. The only person she’s truly comfortable with prolonged contact with is her sister and someone she’s in a long-term relationship with

• Catriona loves animals and would adopt an entire shelter if allowed

• She knows how to fight because of her father. He taught her how to fight with daggers in case she ever found herself in a bad situation when she grew up (he worried for her given her sharp tongue and boldness)

• Her mother passed away when she was young – about 14 – so she took on the role of helping her siblings and bringing in money for her father by working odd jobs

• She’s really bad at dealing with grief – will often just ignore it by working hard until it catches up to her and she breaks down in the arms of a friend or family member

• She tries to help people that seem to be struggling – will often give them money or offer them aid however she can, especially if they’re young like she was.

• She is horrendous at singing but still does anyway

• Broke her arm when she was ten by jumping off a swing

• She snores really loudly when she sleeps + she splays out and takes up the whole bed

• She’s actually loud in general

• Very staunch in her beliefs and will argue for them

• Has a good sense of humor and can take a joke well

• Loves traveling, but most especially loves seeing the ocean because of how vast it is. She loves the idea of just getting on a boat and setting sail and seeing where she eventually lands.

• Her favorite treats are sour candies, but if she was in the HP world, she would live and die for Butter beer

• Enjoys reading or having stories read aloud to her

• Can be lazy sometimes and wants to spend days off of work just napping on and off all day

Her personal theme song would definitely be something upbeat but positive like One More Time by I Prevail, esp. the lyrics Sometimes you gotta go down swinging, get up get up feel the kick drum beating one more time

Sarcastic/Witty Dialogue

“I told you she’s easy to fall in love with. A dream, a nightmare, a mess of a girl that everyone sees the worst in. Everyone but you. I could’ve warned you, I suppose, could have told you she’s use you and leave you but would you have believed me? I doubt it.”

“He’s not listening,” Cat hums in a sing-song voice, her gaze flickering to Samson for a brief moment, falling to the knife in his hand, to the already bloodied blade.

“Please, dear, don’t interrupt now. Not when I’ve almost changed his mind on you.”

Cat grits her teeth, hand clamped over the wound in her side, green eyes never straying from Tyler’s expression. “He doesn’t buy it. Any of it.”

Samson tsks his tongue, head slowly waving from side to side. “You’re wrong.”She forces a grin to her face, straightening her back and thrusting her shoulders as far back as the pain in her side will allow for. “Me? Wrong? Impossible, Tin. I’m always right. It’s honestly probably the most annoying thing about me.”

Though Cat says it with all the swagger she can muster, she watches Tyler intently, positive he isn’t being swayed but wary nevertheless. Samson’s manipulated stronger men than Tyler. She wouldn’t have him abandon her now.

Samson scowls. “Tin is a worthless nickname.”

“Oh? Is it? Then why didn’t you choose a better alias?”

Samson turns his attention to Tyler. “Why don’t you just get on with it, boy? Me or her?”

Breaking Down DialogueCat wraps her arms around her knees, drawing them to her chest as she stares at the worn toes of her shoes. “Fen is gone, and I’m alone.”

The sudden sobriety startles Ava into silence, the joke she’d been making left abandoned in her throat. “Cat—”

“He could be halfway around the world, Ave, and I can’t… I won’t…” The words catch, breaking on the knot in her throat. “He’s gone,” she whimpers once more before the tears that had been building for three full weeks finally break, rolling down her cheeks and filling her mouth with the taste of salt.

Ava draws her sister in, holding her and running a hand down her hair, murmuring useless words into the air, praying Fen returned soon.

Caring/Motherly Dialogue

Cat cocks her head, fingers running down Fen’s cheek. “You’re upset. What is it, what’s the matter?”

He shrugs her touch off his face, shaking his head. “It does not concern you.”

“But it could,” she murmurs, voice so fierce, so determined in its intent that he looks up, meets her eyes.

“Catriona, you need not worry. I can care for myself.”

“A little help couldn’t hurt, could it?”

“Would you accept help?”

She grins, attitude that he loves making its way past her care for a moment, “Not all of us are as wonderful as me, Fenris. Now tell me, what is it?”

He sighs, leaning back in his chair, the letter he’d been writing abandoned in front of him. “You really are a work of art, you know that? It… has to do with my sister.”

Cat falls into the chair next to him, brows creased in worry and confusion.

“You’ve heard from her?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“How is it unfortunate? I thought you’d like to hear from her.”

He tells her the tale, unweaves the narrative, tells her of the fear he has about a possible betrayal. By the time he finishes, she’s reached out to grasp his hand, her own touch warm and not unwelcome.

“I’ll be there, then. At your side. She won’t have a chance to hurt you, I swear it.”

He smiles despite himself, gaze falling to where she’s firmly clutching his hand. “I believe you, Catriona. Thank you.”

She squeezes his hand before standing. “I’m here for you, Fenris. For anything you need.”

He nods. “I understand.”

[letalerp]

ＡＬＩＡＳ: AGENT 11 ＣＩＶＩＬＩＡＮ ＮＡＭＥ: VIVIAN HAYES ＢＩＲＴＨＰＬＡＣＥ: DUBLIN, IRELAND   Ｄ．Ｏ．Ｂ ／ ＡＧＥ: AUGUST 29TH, 1977  / FORTY

❝ All you ever needed was a camera and microphone, from the plastic toys to the real deal. Your family forced to watch through horrendous clips and attempts to movies but you were only a child and it took you awhile to grow into your abilities. Once you knew your audience, how to work your multiple cameras and the editing programs, you were unstoppable. Life didn’t exist if it wasn’t through a lens and people weren’t worth talking to unless they agreed to participate in your many antics. None of it was ever in vain and eventually those who had doubted you could see you on their TV screens, travelling the world and interviewing anyone who crossed your path. You became known for your fierce style and skills to coax anything out of anyone, so full of potential and ego that you couldn’t have predicted your own downfall. You might have been able to always find the truth but the truth isn’t always pretty, is it? Drug cartels don’t take exposure lightly and all it took was one little secret for your entire life to implode. But much like a phoenix, you were given the chance to rise from the ashes. You’ve been able to relight the fire, now it’s time to decide whether to keep it burning or snuff it out. ❞ 

ＳＰＥＣＩＡＬＩＴＹ: INTERROGATION

↳  Research, languages.

ＧＥＮＤＥＲ: FEMALE (SHE/HER)

THIS CHARACTER IS CURRENTLY CLOSED AND IS PORTRAYED BY JESSICA CHASTAIN.

Tell us a bit about your past. Do you have a family? Where did you grow up?

The question irritates her. It’s far too broad, but she knows it’s necessary. It’s not the agent’s fault. They were probably given a list of necessary questions, but Vivian can’t help the way the irritation coils around the base of her spine and climbs up vertebrae by vertebrae. It’s not how she would conduct an interview, or was this a psych eval. She had already forgotten. She plasters a smile, the illusion of happiness puts people at ease more readily than the constant scowl that feels natural to her. It’s the only reason she’s survived all these years – adaptable. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, she shrugs with a small laugh. It sounds hollow in the stark white room, but she pushes it aside. “Don’t we all have a family, regardless of how we feel about them.” Her jaw tightens ever so slightly at the mention of them. Because she does have a family, yes, but she hasn’t seen them in years. Not since the entire fucking cartel debacle and joining UMBRA. It was better this way – or that’s the lie she tells herself over and over until she believes it. It was her own doing. Better to leave her family out of her antics, it would only end up getting them hurt. “If you can’t tell by the accent or the file in front of you, we have a problem.” Her smile grows at her own sarcasm. Maybe it would tack down some extra points to keep a closer eye on her, but every agent had their own way to cope – this was hers. “Dublin, Ireland.” Memories of her childhood rush through her head. Day trips to the countryside just a few hours outside Dublin. Her mother and father both in tow, one holding a cooler filled with food and the other a blanket comically large. Not every memory was so shiny and bright, but her parents did their best. They made her feel loved – always encouraged her to follow her dreams. Every pay check a little money put aside to buy Vivian the latest gadget. They spent hours sprawled on the carpet in front of the TV watching various ‘movies’ Viv had put together. None of it was good, but it was a beginning – the foundation to the rest of her life. Pulling herself out of her memories, she shifts slightly in her chair. “I was a happy kid. I had far too much time on my hands with a wild imagination. Imagine the type of trouble a girl like me could get up to in beautiful Ireland.” Leaning forward with a wistful smile now adorning her features, she whispered. “Then double it. My family never asked me to tone it down and they got left with this.”

What were you doing in your life before UMBRA reached out to you?

The nicotine craving hits her like a freight train. She knows she can’t ask for a break – a pack of cigarettes lays tauntingly on the table. She could ask, they were probably left there so that anyone being questioned would. But a part of her doesn’t want to give into temptation. It’s a game Vivian plays with herself – hold out as long as she can. Licking her lips, she forces herself to look away from the pack and back to the interrogator. “A little of this and that. Mostly trying to stay alive.” A bitter laugh escapes her lips as she leans back in the uncomfortable chair. She stops herself from shifting. She knows the game. It’s usually her on the other side of the table – packet of cigarettes, the promises of a sugary cold soda, and a little rest if her subject would just answer a few more questions. She doubts if anything UMBRA does isn’t designed perfectly to try and manipulate its agents – especially after what happened to the Vice-Director. “A drug cartel doesn’t take kindly to being exposed. Who knew?” Another bitter laugh, this one hurting her own ears. It’s been years and still the thought makes her blood boil. What the fuck had she been thinking? “I knew, I just didn’t care.” She rubs at her jaw; it’s begun to ache something fierce. The pain akin to the months after her last big news piece and how when she slept, she only woke to find she had been grinding her teeth the whole time. “Honestly, I was trying to piece my life back together. In the end, it didn’t seem like it amounted to much to anyone but me.” The story, the lie, the secret. The irritation encompasses the base of her spine again and she’s afraid, just for a moment, that it might never leave. The months after her story ran made up entirely of complete paranoia. How Vivian managed to survive made absolutely no sense. She knew that cartels killed for far less than she did. A part of her knew she was only alive because of the affair with her – one of the cartel higher ups. It hadn’t been on purpose – another lie Viv forced herself to believe. It was easier to believe that they had tumbled into bed in a completely innocent sort of way – that her idea for her next big exposé came from pillow talk. But that was bullshit. Everything Viv did was calculated, even who she fucked. Finally giving in, she shifts in the metal chair – the legs loudly scraping across the tile. “I was…” Her voice trails off as her eyes hit the cigarettes again. “Paranoid. I saw danger lurking behind every corner. I wasn’t sure who to trust, so in all honesty, ma’am, I was merely surviving. It wasn’t much of an existence.”

What was the worst phase in your life? And if you were able to change the past, would you?

Vivian stops herself from slamming a fist on the table. The questions are annoying her now. She believes it’s absolutely by design and maybe this senior agent isn’t just the person who picked the short straw. They’re probably just as complicit as whoever designed the questions. Logically, she knows her anger isn’t towards the questions or the proctor. Not really. It’s at herself for her past. Years and the rage still burns bright inside of her. “My last story.” The words come out soft, but she has no doubt the other agent hears her perfectly. She knows they won’t ask her to speak up and risk ruining this perfectly orchestrated moment. The game she’s been playing with herself ends. It makes no difference how long she holds out. In the end, she was never going to win this evaluation. “Can I have one of those?” Her eyes burn a hole into the cigarettes and she feels the coil loosen slightly as the agent slides them towards her, lighter in tow. Fingers shaking slightly, she lights a cigarette and holds the smoke inside her lungs until it starts to burn. The need for oxygen too great and she exhales towards the ceiling. “Maybe you saw it. I exposed a drug cartel. I got my own 20/20 special. Can you fucking believe that?” This time, the laughter than bubbles up is genuine. The memory of that phone call still one of the better things that’s every happened in her life. Vivian never cared much for fame. It was all about the story. She wanted to know what made the world tick, what made people tick. She traveled the world with a video camera. Her crew always small because too many people could ruin something. Which looking back was hilarious because all it took was one person – herself. “I was on top of the world. I was going to make a difference. I knew it wouldn’t shut down right away, but it was a beginning. The cartel would have to be more careful, maybe even go underground. I was naive.” She shifts again in the chair followed by another deep drag. The nicotine hit her system twenty seconds after the first inhale, but her fingers only begin to steady now. “I fucked up along the way. I made… some mistakes.” Her statement was putting it mildly. Vivian’s honestly amazed she’s even alive. Maybe it was due in part to UMBRA. She had a rising suspicion that the organization had a hand in her still walking in the earth. Purely for selfish reasons, she didn’t believe UMBRA had truly altruistic reasons for anything they did. Fucking Ariana had been the biggest mistake Vivian had ever made in her forty years of life. But it was easier to tell people it was the drug cartel story. Not that the follow up to running that story had been her own personal fall from grace. She compromised her ethics to get a story. She had slept with the enemy and liked it – almost loved it on the days when she felt like being brutally honest with herself. It was dangerous, Viv knew that from the get go. It somehow only made the story even better. The insect part of her brain knew that it would backfire – that fucking her source would blow up in her face. And yet, she never stopped it. Not even while she sat in her dimly lit hotel room editing together footage. She didn’t even want to stop when the story was shopped around. It only stopped because Ariana pressed a gun to the base of her skull and yelled at her to get the fuck out and never show her face again or it would be the last time Vivian ever did anything.

Her chest tightens at the last memory. Her eyes burning as she takes another drag from the cigarette. If anyone asks, she’d blame the smoke. Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she ashes the cigarette into a tray. “No. I wouldn’t change it. It was a learning experience.” Another lie, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the smoke filling her lungs and the promise of alcohol when this entire fucking interview was over.

Do you perceive your work here with us important? if so, explain why. if not, explain why.

“Yes. If I didn’t find something important, I wouldn’t do it.” It is the most honest thing to come out of her mouth in the entire afternoon. Not that anything has been a lie. The cigarette is half gone now – tendrils of smoke escaping from her fingers. Vivian has never been one to waste her time. Even this evaluation is necessary, no matter how tiresome she finds it. The idea of answering just a few more questions and then she’ll be free is all that keeps her going. “I admire the fact that everything is shrouded in secrecy. UMBRA doesn’t ask for credit and doesn’t take credit. We just… do things. Things the public doesn’t want to know, but they would be helpless without us.” Her ego takes over as she answers. When she first arrived, Vivian only cared about her survival. It’s still a matter of that. She’s not sure that even UMBRA can protect her from what awaits her outside these walls. But for now, it’s a distant memory that doesn’t have to be dealt with. At least not yet. She has time and for someone who always figuring they were living on borrowed time, it’s a blessing in disguise. A part of her wants to investigate this organization. It’s just what Vivian does. She finds something interesting and finds out what makes it tick. The image of the Vice-Director shot flashes through her mind. It’s better to keep her head down for the time being. No need to put her life at risk for something so soon. “I think every agent plays an important part in this agency. We couldn’t thrive without the other. If you didn’t have me, you wouldn’t get all the answers. But I wouldn’t be able to provide them if someone didn’t bring me a person to interrogate. I have a big ego, but I can recognize that UMBRA is a well oiled machine. Without each part, it would collapse.” She snubs out the cigarette and leans back in the chair. It pokes at her spine and she wants to scream. Her answer is honest. Every time someone answers her truthfully, she feels accomplished. It’s almost the same feeling she got when editing together a particularly delicious video clip. Almost. She gets to rely on her instincts again and gets praised for her work. It’s better than skulking in the shadows waiting for death to arrive.

Is there anything that you believe we can do differently and why?

Vivian shrugs. Her patience is wearing thin. Not that it had ever been great to begin with. It still feels unnatural that she’s on the other side of the table. Fielding questions was never her forte. She preferred being behind the lens, or in this case, behind the clipboard. “What do I know? I’m only an interrogator. I’m sure things can be done differently or we wouldn’t be having this sit down, right?” She scrapes the chair loudly against the floor. The petty part of her hopes that it leaves scratches. A small reminder that she was in this room and annoyed. She leans her elbows on the table – something her mother would slap her for – and smirks. “You can tell the boss if they want me to do a little investigating, I can put something together. Maybe tell you guys where you need improvement. The best part would be, no one would even know what I was doing. Except us.” She gestures a little wildly between her and the interrogator. She can’t help herself. She doubts anything will come of her offer, but at least it’s floated.

What is the one thing that you will never do, or at least, will refuse to do?

Weariness is setting in. Enough to make her shift in her chair once again. It’s uncomfortable to the point of frustration. All she wants to do is slam her fists on the table and scream. It wouldn’t do much for the psych eval, but it would relieve whatever’s been coiling around the base of her spine. At this point, she’s not sure if it’s irritation or something else entirely. What she does know is that getting out of this room would release some of the pressure. Her eyes glance at the pack of cigarettes and she toys with the idea of lighting another as she ponders the question. There’s a lot of things Vivian wouldn’t do, but when it comes to UMBRA she’s not entirely sure. Not right off the bat. Interrogation doesn’t get her outside these four walls very often.

Tapping her fingers against the metal table, she offers a shrug. “Murder. Or killing. I’d really prefer not to dabble into that sort of thing. I’ve seen the worst of humanity, but I’m not ready to dip my toes in that water.” A cold stab of dread hits her right in her belly and she feels dizzy. She briefly wonders if the cigarettes are laced with something. She wouldn’t put it past UMBRA to try and dose someone during an interrogation. In fact, it would be brilliant. She had asked for one, it had never been offered. She realizes that maybe that answer isn’t entirely true. She’s not necessarily cold-blooded, but she’ll do anything to survive. The last few months have proved that. Dropping her hands to her lap, she absentmindedly pushes against her knuckles. Knuckles that are still bruised from her last interrogation. UMBRA isn’t like the outside. Answers aren’t only provided with a clever tongue and well timed questions. Inside these four walls, Vivian uses whatever means necessary to extract information. Torture is never conducive to producing real results, but she’s found a few hits here and there loosen the tongue rather nicely. Worst of all, she likes it.

Last but not least, who do you think killed the Vice-Director?

Last but not least. Sweet release is right around the corner. It’s the only thing Vivian can focus on. Her back now sore from the stiff, unrelenting chair. The question makes sense given the circumstances, but still throws her off-guard. She understands that was probably the point. Ask a big question and see how the person reacts. Shifty eyes and perspiration on their forehead and digging a little deeper might be the right course of action. Grabbing the lighter and cigarettes, Vivian pushes herself up from the seat and the table. Her body screams in pain for just a second before she catches herself. “How the hell should I know? He wasn’t the primary target, so I’d look for anyone who had a real beef with the director.” She rams the items into her pockets as she takes a few steps towards the door. The interrogator hasn’t moved from their position and that seems like a good thing. She hopes there isn’t some sort of guard outside the door who will stop her and haul her back into the uncomfortable chair.

Hand outstretched for the doorknob, she turns in her heels and studies the older agent. “You’d be better suited for some sort of position. Interrogation isn’t your strong suit. No offense.” The words drip from her mouth from honey. She knows she should have just kept walking. But it’s just not how Vivian operates. She can’t help herself from a little bit of needling – a way to assert her dominance short of pissing all over the room like a dog. Smile plastered on her lips, she pushes the door open and heads into the hallway. No guard. Maybe someone would reprimand her later, but she doesn’t care. All that matters is that the interview is over and she doesn’t have to think anymore. At least for a little while.

[lexfritterwrites]

Let Lips Do What Hands Do - Ten

A/N: It’s finally an update! I hope you enjoy it and thanks for sticking around! The last half of this is pure smut so be warned. ;-) Thanks as always to @treefingers for being my beta!

previous

Taron sighs when Addie's ringtone springs from his pocket and he quickly connects the call. "Hey cariad, what's up?"

It's true he's not expecting a call from her as she should be teaching, but he's happy to hear from her.

"I am on my way to the fucking drug store to get a fucking pregnancy test."

"Addie!"

"Oh, it'll be negative, I can assure you," she sneers. "I can't fucking believe this."

"What?"

"Well, I threw up four times this morning, so I had to go visit the school nurse before I could get dismissed. She grins at me as I tell her what had happened, only having thrown up three times at this point, and she just gets this fucking smug smile across her unpleasant face. And she says, 'Are you having sex regularly with that handsome boyfriend of yours?' To which I said, 'I don't really see how that's your business.' And she cackles. She literally cackles, Taron! And she says, 'Well, Miss Lee, I think it's time you consider you might be pregnant.' I threw up again then so she signed my release, never mind a third of the school is out with a bug, so now I'm on my way to the fucking drug store to get a pee stick."

Taron's mind is finally catching up to everything she's just said — pregnancy test, throwing up, negative, pee stick. His heart hammers in his chest... Addie could be pregnant with his child. He could be a father.

"Addie, are you all right?"

She sniffles on the other end of the line and he imagines her wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't know. I feel like shit, my face is all puffy and I'm going to the store to buy a pregnancy test. It's freezing outside, too."

"Are you coming home after you get it? Can I meet you somewhere? You don't have to do this alone."

Addie freezes on the sidewalk, tripping over the word 'home.' She still has her apartment and he of course still frequents his own house, but home is an entirely different idea. Home is Taron.

"Yeah, I'll come to you."

At the drugstore, Addie drops a pregnancy test and two jugs of Pedialite into her basket, taking a quick break to throw up in the rubbish bin out on the sidewalk. The man behind the counter eyes her warily and gives her a half smile, making her feel like both already know the results of the test. She groans as she flags a taxi to take her to Taron's house, ripping into the packaging to read the instructions.

They sit together on the bathroom floor, the plastic test resting on the tile beside Addie's leg.

"Please let it be negative." She mutters, dropping her head to her knees.

"Addie," Taron says softly, rubbing her back. "You keep acting like being pregnant with our child is the worst thing in the world. Is it me or—"

"Or what, Taron? It's not you, it's the situation. Now is the worst possible time for me to be pregnant. I'm supposed to move back to America in a few months and I couldn't do that with a baby bump. I couldn't take the child away from you unless you gave me reason to."

"I'm pretty sure you could if you wanted."

"I wouldn't want to," Addie says. "I was raised by a single parent most of my life and my dad did an outstanding job but it was hard for both of us. I'd have to find a school looking for a second-semester hire because no school would employ the pregnant woman who would be having her baby early in the year. I have to work, otherwise what is this all for?"

“Plans can change, Addie."

“I know that, Taron,” Addie says sharply. “I’ve worked really hard and I’ve been on the pill for what? A decade? Like, it’s not that I don’t want to be a mother, I just don’t want to be one right now. I thought I was in control of this."

"I'm sure it's negative," he says softly, resigning to let her have this moment.

His phone vibrates across the floor, the signal that the time has come. Addie picks up the test and hands it to Taron. "I can't look." She huffs out a breath and leans forward so her forehead is touching her knees.

Taron looks and the small screen, his hand shaking as he holds it, and sighs. "Not pregnant."

Addie's silent for a few moments before releasing the breath she'd been holding. "You sound disappointed."

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I've been imagining what it would be like to have a baby with you in half hour since you called. What she would look like, how he would act, how we would act — it all was very lovely. I guess I got a bit excited. I totally understand where you're coming from, and contractually I wouldn’t even be here if you were to deliver in the fall. So, I get that. It just sounds nice, doesn't it? Our child. He or she would be adorable, and we could read the baby books and take the little one on adventures. I got ahead of myself."

"It does sound nice," Addie says, leaning into his shoulder. "I would like to be established with my career and, you know, not have this question of whether or not the father and I will still be together."

Addie's departure hangs over them like a dark and heavy cloud, casting shadows over every happy moment. How can Taron let the love of his life move around the world? How can he ask her to stay when he'll be absent for large chunks of time? How could he ask her to give up her dreams for him and deny that which she has worked so hard to obtain?

He's can't, so Taron pulls her against his shoulder and kisses the top of her head.

"It's just a bug then. Let's get you tucked in and I'll make you some soup."

Addie pulls the covers all the way up to her chin, realizing how cold and achy her entire body is.

"D'you need anything else?" Taron asks, running his fingers over her hair.

"No," she says. "Thank you."

"Of course," he says. He switches off the lamp by her side of the bed and walks around the room to hopefully let her sleep.

"T?"

"Yeah, cariad?"

"I would want you to father my children when I'm ready to be a mother."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"That would make me really happy." He sinks onto the bed and brushes her hot face, smiling before leaning in for a kiss.

"Don't," she says, whipping away from him. "You could get this awful bug."

"I won't," he says. "I've been exposed to it already, but I also have the immune system of an elephant so I won't get sick."

"Do elephants have good immune systems?"

"No idea," Taron says, kissing her quickly, "but I won't get sick."

He is wrong, of course. Taron throws up twice by the time the sun sets, and he finds himself curled on his side next to his girlfriend, both of them aching and unmoving.

It is a weekend of soup, naps and Netflix, and Taron sighs as he stares at the ceiling. "This is it, innit?"

Addie rolls over so she's facing him, feeling much better now than she had in days. "What?"

"Love."

"What?"

"Spending all weekend in bed with each other in between throwing up and feeling awful. I mean, this is really it."

"I think so, yes. Those other times you told me you loved me — were you lying?"

"Of course not," Taron says. "I meant it then and I mean it now. It feels different, I guess. Long haul and all that."

Addie laughs which turns into a horrendous bout of coughing, her throat raw and aching from throwing up so much. "If we ever get married or make some kind of verbal commitment to each other, that is what I want your vow to be. 'Long haul and all that.' "

Taron chuckles and finds her hand somewhere in the sheets. "I love you, Adelaide Lee."

"Love you, too."

A week later, Addie's requested the morning to herself for grading papers and studying for an exam, and the clock has now ticked its way into the afternoon. Taron brought her a sandwich and soup and hour ago which now is an empty bowl and a plate of crumbs along with the crusts, and she feels like she's no closer to making it through the pile of papers.

She's vaguely aware the sounds of the stationary bike stop in Taron's gym, and the she glances at him wiping his neck with a towel. He's simply gorgeous as stretches, his white T-shirt rising revealing the dimples and the base of his spine.

"Concentrate," Addie murmurs to herself as she shifts her eyes back to a comparison of Boewulf and Iron Man. She reads and edits a few more paragraphs before there's Taron.

He saunters by her, smelling like sweat with his athletic pants low on his hips. He shouldn't be such a distraction.

She can put him out of her mind when he disappears around the corner without a word, but then he's back.

Taron's hand is warm on her arm and then his lips land right beneath her ear. She sighs when he nips that place where her neck meets her shoulder, his fingers sliding her sweatshirt down her skin.

It's such a good distraction. He’s firmly grasping her shoulder and pulling her hair, licking her skin and nibbling and her neck. Addie gasps as his hand slides to her breast, squeezing it as firmly as he had her shoulder. She's on fire, his every twist of her hair stoking the flames. His cheek is wet beneath her palm and she laughs when his lips finally move to hers. She could have an orgasm right now — still fully dressed and not even touched below the waist.

Twisting her hair between her fingers, he pulls out the elastic band and flips her ponytail in his palm. Addie can still feel the places his lips and teeth have been, and he sweeps over her one more time.

Just as quickly as he came, he leaves. Addie sinks on the bench as her eyes follow him up the stairs. The whole exchange couldn't have lasted more than three minutes but it was enough.

She shoves the lid on her pen and pops up, chasing after him. "Taron, you can't just leave me like that!"

He's in the bedroom without a shirt, sweat glistening on his chest.

"I thought you said no distractions," he answers, sliding his trousers down his legs.

"So you think getting me all hot and bothered and then leaving isn't a distraction?"

"Just wanted to kiss you, cariad," he says nonchalantly, slipping out of his pants. If he wants to play this game, Addie's gathered enough of her wits about her to play, too. She kisses the corner of his lips because she knows she'll lose her composure if she were to kiss him full on, and she moves her lips to his jaw. She can do the things he did, licking his shoulder and squeezing his bicep. Addie has the advantage though — her boyfriend is naked.

His skin is salty beneath her tongue as she runs a finger tip over one pec and her mouth over the other. She earns a grunt as she wraps her hands around his half-hard cock, pumping it gently. He drops his hands in her hair, twisting it around as she likes.

Addie almost gives in but keeps going, her tongue tracing the line between his abs. Sinking to her knees, she nibbles the cut of his left hip. It's not a competition but she's winning.

"Adelaide," he hums as she wraps her lips around his cock, maneuvering his foreskin to her advantage. She looks up at him — eyes closed, jaw open and head leaning backwards. Hell yes, she is winning.

Addie's done this enough to times have a pretty good idea of his body; she only hopes he follows his usual pattern of grunts, thrusts and muscle strain to give her warning.

He’s leaking already, but Addie's prepared for that with a swallow. Palming his testicles and sucking just at the right time do it: he's shaking on the edge of an orgasm.

Addie rolls back on her heels, lets his cock pop from her mouth and straightens up. She wipes her lips with her finger as she raises her eyebrows at the man standing before her, all red cheeked and panting.

He grins at her as he leans on the dresser behind him, a fresh bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. Addie smirks as she turns away from him, pulls her sweatshirt over her head and walks into the bathroom.

She's barely switched on the water when he's there, his lips on her neck, one hand cradling her breasts and the other down her leggings. Addie gives in and turns her neck to his so their lips and tongues can merge. Her leggings are pushed down and she kicks out of them, neither lover parting from the other.

She pulls him into the shower, hot water turning her skin pink on contact. He wraps his hands in her hair, both of them unable to stifle moans. She pumps his erection again, and he has to drop his head to her shoulder to breathe. It doesn't take long before he's grasping at her hips, and Addie finds her abdomen and thigh coated with his ejaculate which is quickly carried down the drain.

Not one to leave the beautiful woman he's in love with hanging, Taron pushes her up against the glass, gives each nipple a kiss for good measure and drops to his knees. He lifts her leg over his shoulder and looks at her.

"Have you got a good footing?" He asks, slapping the foot in question. Addie nods, rather wishing he'd get on with it. She has a mighty need for him, however he's will to provide.

He's there with fingers and tongue, his other hand wrapped around her calf to keep her from sliding. She thinks he quite possibly is spelling his and her names together with his tongue, but there's a grand possibility she's imagining it. She could be imagining anything really, like riding a rocket ship out of the galaxy or swimming amongst sea unicorns. That's exactly the kind of thought she can manage when Taron's face is between her thighs with his mouth centered on her clitoris and his fingers curling inside her.

"Taron!"

He knows his work is done but his shift isn't over, and he continues to suck, lick and curl until her body shakes. Kissing her ankle as it passes by his head, he places her foot on the ground before rising to swallow her gasps. Sloppily kissing for several long moments, Addie feels a rather persistent poking at her hip and she doesn't argue when her boyfriend turns her around. Her breasts press into the cool glass as her steaming love wraps his hand around her hip and captures her lips between his. She spreads her legs because she knows she needs to if she wants this to continue and because she can feel his hips at her ass. Her exhale echoes around them as he slides inside her, nails scraping against his scalp. His fingers play at her clit again, and she's whining within seconds. Taron admits this has gone much further than he had intended when he pulled his stunt downstairs, but this is a joyous turn of events.

Addie's nails dig into his scalp and hip as another orgasm rolls through her, and she regains her composure by anchoring herself with Taron's lips. He's coming again shortly after, and they have to very gently extricate themselves from each other.

"I need to finish my work," she says, sometime later as steam blankets them from the outside world, Taron's back a bright red from the water pounding against it. She presses her lips to his chest, both of them completely clean and sated. "I'd rather have a nap with you, though."

"I would like that," he says, reaching behind him to turn off the water. She quickly grabs a towel and pulls around them both, and Taron grabs another for her hair. "It's a great Saturday."

"The very best."

[marshmallowgoop]

AU: Ryuko with Senketsu in which they find out the truth about Ryuko's life fibers and family before episode 18.

Ryuko Matoi wakes someplaceshe doesn’t recognize, one name spilling from her lips.

She rushes to sit up, quickly,messily, hastily. The creamy, ivory sheets in the fine, wide bed she’d beenplaced in shift at the movement, rustling more loudly than any fabric ought to,falling away from her body and piling up by her thighs, but Ryuko gives none ofit any mind, reaching her fingers out towards the empty space before her, grabbinghelplessly at thin air, as though she couldreally save him, or could really save anyone at all.

Her arm falls. Her criesbecome whispers. There is nothing to hold and nothing to bring close, and sheknows that, of course she does. What was she even thinking?

His voice is gone, and hiswarmth gone with it. Deep beneath her and inside her, there is only cold, hardemptiness where there should be comfort and shelter, and she dares not lookdown, her eyes stinging as she instead takes in the room around her.

The space is pristine andflawless and white and scarcely decorated, but something about it feels granderthan anything Ryuko has ever experienced—and more menacing. The glossy floortiles shine too brightly, and the silver bed frame she sits in is surely not a cheap plastic imitation, and everythingseems too much, too radiant, and she shuts her eyes once more, as though thatwould save her.

What in the world had shedone?

Her mouth is dry. She can’t rememberthe night before, and the dream… well, the dream has never felt so real. Of course she knew it was just her nightmare,of course she did, of course she did, butevery hitch in his voice, every wound he suffered, every slash of the sword, every scream—it was as though she were right there,more than it ever had been. It was as though she were once again helpless.

It was as though she were onceagain useless.

Ryuko can still hear his criesin his mind. It doesn’t matter that every bit of her knows it’s a dream andembarrassing illusion. She still can’t shake his desperate pleas, and she stillcan’t shake the soreness she feels all over. Her throat still aches, feelingugly and raw, and she wonders faintly if she’s screamed in her sleep again.

Her stomach turns, knowing thatthis time, Mako couldn’t have been there to shake her awake, and her wholefamily couldn’t have surrounded her with wide, concerned eyes, and he couldn’thave said, gently, I’m here.

Thinking on it just makeseverything worse. Her breathing won’t calm. Her heart continues to thud deepinside, racing. She balls her hands up into fists, the sound ringing in herears, knowing that he can’t even hearthis stupid rhythm he says he loves so much, and he can’t yell at her to calm down, and…

Her heart only beats faster. Thump thump, thump thump.

And Ryuko knows she can’t justsit around here anymore.

Without wasting anothermoment, against her better judgment, Ryuko forces her eyes open once more andlooks down.

And her breath promptly leavesher.

It’s even worse than she couldhave ever imagined. Waking up in a strange place in nothing but her striped underwearwould be one thing. Waking up in a strange place buck naked with nothing but ablanket over her would be another thing.  

But waking up wearing the most extravagant, frilly, glamorousdress she’s ever seen, with snowy feathers around its collar, and sparkling,silky fabric that hugs her body much moreclosely than she’s comfortable with, is surely the worst of all.

Ryuko could throw up, at the sight.Never in a million years would shewear something so gaudy and tasteless, and wherever she is—and whoever has donethis to her—is going to get the shit kickedout of them.

But Ryuko can’t remember thenight before. All she knows is his fallen body, and her…

She doesn’t know. She doesn’tknow anything.

And maybe, if her head wasn’tso messed up, Ryuko would have noticed the delicate clink of metal much sooner, and would have noticed that no matterhow grand and wide and white and sparkling the room is, or how fine the bed she’dfound herself in happened to be…

The door opens, when she callshis name once more.

“Senketsu, Senketsu, Senketsu!”comes a voice Ryuko knows too well, the tone light and airy and dripping withmockery and ridicule. “I swear. Your clinginess to that thing is sooo gross. I’m gonna barf!”

A girl steps close to Ryuko’s bed,her bright pink dress seeming somehow dulled in this space, diminished by the brightlights and dizzying emptiness. Every clickof her boots sounds ten times louder than it should, echoing against thebarren walls and ceiling, and she smiles a smile so cute and innocent thatRyuko wishes more than anything to place hands around the girl’s thin neck asshe demands answers to everything.

But somehow, she manages tocontrol herself. Ryuko feels her anger deflate around her.

There’s only one thing thatmatters right now.

“Where is he,” Ryuko managesto grind out. It’s not a question, and she tries—and fails—to rise to her feetat the words. She may not have her blade, she knows, but she has her fists, andshe swears she’ll make that enough.

She’ll make that more than enough.

But she can’t move. Her legsseemed glued to the silky, expensive sheets beneath her, and when she tries towrench her arms towards the girl before her, she’s met with a tug and a clink of metal that is both sickeningand terrifying all at once, ringing in her ears like a siren.

And then Ryuko sees the cuffsaround her wrists, linked to a chain hooked to the head of her bed.

Nui Harime laughs. “Oh, c’mon,Sis,” she says, stepping closer and closer to where Ryuko sits, her boots clicking methodically, smiling a smileso wide it seems to fill her entire face as she watches Ryuko pull and tug andpush to break free. “We should play nice, shouldn’t we? Shouldn’t sisters getalong?”

Ryuko pulls harder on thechains, keeping her mind off of Nui Harime’s disgusting words and disgustingvoice and disgusting presence. She’ll break the damn bed if it’s the last thingshe does. It may be fancy, but it’s no match for her.

“Stop talkin’ bullshit!” Ryuko eventually says, the chains shaking wildly. She tries to spit into Harime’ssmug face, but her efforts only get her a wad of saliva on the sheets. “Like hell you’re any sister of mine!”

Ryuko doesn’t stop tugging. NuiHarime smiles some more at Ryuko’s response, opening her mouth to spoutout what Ryuko can only assume to be more asinine garbage, but it is at thatmoment that Ryuko hears instead another voice.

“Oh, please don’t mind her,darling,” the voice says, silky smooth and full of so much condescension thatwhoever this bitch is could give SatsukiKiryuin a run for her money.

Ryuko’s thoughts are onlyfurthered when the woman walks into the room. Each step is measured andcalculated, her high heels clacking againstthe overly-bright tile, her entire presence seeming to light up the whole roomeven further.

Ryuko, frankly, didn’t think that was even possible.

Everything about the womanbefore her is irritatingly on-point. Her lipstick is flawless, her hair styledso meticulously that Ryuko questions if this is even reality, and the woman’s outfitlooks horrendously familiar to theone she’s been stuffed in, full ofwhite and feathers and glistening, exuberant fabric.

“You,” Ryuko sneers, never ceasing her task of breaking free of thisdamn bed. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but—“

“Nui is just excited, dear,”the woman continues, as though Ryuko had said nothing at all. She pauses in herplace, smiling a threatening, purple-lipsticked smile Ryuko’s way. 

“It’s notevery day,” the woman says, slowly, carefully, “that Nui meets someone as wondrousas you.”

Well, that makes Ryuko feel sick to her stomach.

But it doesn’t matter who thisskanky, gaudy-peacock bitch is or what’s going on. Right now, all that mattersis if he’s okay.

He has to be, right? If she’s survived, then surely—

The woman laughs. “You are soon edge,” she says, her voice mockingly-sweet. “You really ought to relax. WouldI ever hurt you, after missing youfor all this time?”

Well, that makes Ryuko feel even sicker.

You had me chained to afucking bed, she half-wants to say, but she knows that it doesn’t matter rightnow.

“Where. Is. He,” she repeats,pulling even more fiercely against her cuffs, her wrists aching from the pressure.“If you hurt him, I’ll—“

“You’ll what, dear?” asks the woman. Her high heels clack against the shining tiles as she steps closer and closer towhere Ryuko sits, eventually settling on sitting right beside her, ignoringRyuko’s pushes and shoves, not even flinching.

It is only when the two meeteyes that Ryuko feels a deep terror inside. This woman looks at her like food, and her gaze is so devastatingthat for a moment, Ryuko cannot move, her body stuck in place as the woman runsa chilly, ice-cold hand over her cheek, cooing, “You poor thing—“

And Ryuko doesn’t think. Thewoman’s touch is so revolting, so repulsive, that Ryuko’s entire body rejects it,seeming to scream. She plunges her teeth into the bitter, frozen skin as thoughby instinct, biting hard enough to draw blood.

The woman pulls her hand quicklyaway, her smile faltering. Ryuko spits onto the sheets, and then spits again,watching as stark red spreads across the endless expanse of white.

“Where. Is. He,” Ryuko says oncemore. Her voice is louder than it has been this entire time, echoing throughoutthe room, seeming so much stronger and menacing than she feels. She can’t calmher heart, her breathing is too rapid, her body is on fire, and this taste in her mouth, it’s—

“You poor, poor creature,” says the woman now, the sugary,faux-kindness of only moments before lost, replaced by something far moresinister and heartless. “So obsessed witha rag that’s not even worthy of speaking your name.”

The woman holds out herwounded hand before Ryuko, her wide, cocky smile returning, and Ryuko watches,in horror, as the bite marks fade to nothingness, the streaks of scarlet vanishing.

“Your silly little dish clothcouldn’t stop crying for you,” Harime cuts in, coming so disgustingly close that Ryuko swears she can smell her putrid, rotten-egg-reeking breath. “”Ryuko,Ryuko, Ryuko!” It was sooo annoying! So,I just finally put it out of its misery! You understand, right?”

Ryuko’s heart seems to stop. Shecan’t feel her body anymore. The bright, white room seems, suddenly, darkerthan anything she’s ever experienced.

But Nui Harime is notfinished. “It got so mad when LadyRagyo just wanted to see your pretty little heart! It tried to fight us, likeit could really do anything! Hm, what would your stupid friend say about it?” 

Shepauses, only to laugh. “Right! She’d say that your Kamui was all chopped uplike a salad! It couldn’t do anything at all! It could only watch and cry like a baby!”

The woman—Ragyo, whatever hername is, Ryuko has no idea what is happening anymore—places hershould-be-wounded hand over Ryuko’s.

“People like us,” she says, but Ryuko doesn’t wait tohear the rest.

She doesn’t know what ishappening. She doesn’t know where she is, or who this woman is, or even whathad happened the night before.

But she knows he’s gone. He’sgone, and she couldn’t save him. 

He’s gone, and it’s all her fault.

The last thing Ryuko remembers, when she thinks back on that day, is the crashing, screeching sound of her chains breaking.