#yes girl who hates the finale and has it filtered asks people to make content about it for her follower event

[samsrowena]

hey!!! in regards to your creator event, are you okay with content dealing with the finale/dean's death (I'm specifically thinking in regards to the "chuck won" theory). totally understand if you don't want to see it but I wanted to ask! hope you're having a good day, I'm very excited for the event :)

hi penny!! yeah considering the nature of the prompt, finale content is totally allowed/expected. though using a cw/tw tag like "tw dean's death" re: the barn scene is always appreciated just as a courtesy <3

[troquantary]

Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

[dangermousie]

2020 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2020; if I had to make a post about all the cdramas I watched this year, I would still be doing it in three months...

Overall it’s been a fairly decent cdrama year (certainly better than the very lacklustre kdrama year.) It’s no miracle that 2019 was (so many excellent dramas!) but overall pretty solid.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

44 The Legend of Jing Yan - the worst cdrama I have seen this year, and possibly the worst drama of 2020, period. The hero and heroine were both uncharismatic, incapable of acting and saddled with such shrilly moronic characters, the only suspense was how they haven’t both perished long since from forgetting to breathe. Nor was anyone in the rest of the cast much better; the screenplay was written by a lower mammal and the cinematography was the best a third-rate wedding cinematographer could offer. Stay the HELL away from this one.

43 Unicorn Girl - the only unicorn about this bland yet irritating piece of pap was the fact that I was supposed to believe the leads are hockey players.

42 Autumn Cicada - I like spy stories, Allen Ren, and Republican Era settings. I can tune out Communist propaganda with the best of them. Yet, the propaganda ate the story to such a degree that there was nothing left; pre magic change Pinocchio was less wooden then this narrative.

41 You Complete Me - no you do not.

40 Skate into Love - the only positive thing I can say about this is that at least it’s better than Unicorn Girl, if for no other reason that only one of them is supposed to be a hockey player.

39 Irreplaceable Love - how do you make a story about fake siblings with a mad mother falling for each other boring? I don’t know, ask the makers of this.

38 Eternal Love Rain - I hate to rain on their parade, but these two actors cannot act, have about as much chemistry as a piece of bread, and are trapped in a story perfect for entertaining the mental abilities of the leads of Jin Yan.

37 For Married Doctoress - ummmm, you could do worse I guess. It only made me break out in mild hives. The sadistic ending did make me laugh though.

36 Dance of the Sky Empire - why you get Xu Kai and waste him in this insipid mess of a story is beyond me.

35 Love Designer - it’s inoffensive except to my sense of entertainment. There is nothing wrong with it but oh God is it bland.

34 Love a Lifetime - It felt like a lifetime watching this, but I didn’t love it. The story is incoherent, the actors have no chemistry and it’s all an epic waste of time.

33 Love is Sweet - so sweet it gave me diabetes. I like Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu, but there is literally no plot. I don’t need to sink into a plotless morass to watch pretty people engage in PG-rated make-outs. I am an adult with access to stronger stuff if I am thus inclined, though to be fair they could get x-rated and I still wouldn’t be able to sit through so many episodes of plotlessness for that.

32 Fake Princess - I love Zhao Yi Qin, but the guy needs to pick better projects. The female lead in this one has the voice and personality that can strip paint but the story is also doing nobody any favors.

31 The Changan Youth - I lost my brain checking this out. I had to go and read a dense treatise on medieval coinage or Mayan farming to try to recover it.

30 My Dear Destiny - kinda cheesy fun. It honestly shouldn’t be as low except it really feels like community theater.

29 Handsome Siblings - why is the Nic Tse version so good and this one so bad? True mystery for the ages. Chen Zhe Yuan is the sole reason this isn’t lower, because that kid tries SO HARD to make this drama bearable and almost succeeds. I can’t wait to see him in Sha Po Lang which actually will give him something to do.

28 In a Class of Her Own - see my comment on The Changan Youth. But at least Song Weilong is gorgeous to look at.

27 General’s Lady - inoffensive, pretty and so utterly pointless.

26 The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion - those two leading actors are a no go to me but at least they considerately acted with each other instead of ruining two dramas for me. It’s very pretty though.

25 Jiu Liu Overlord - it’s a mess and I bailed, but I placed it this high merely due to the fact that Lai Yi finally gets a leading role and he’s sexy as fuck and I am shallow. Whoever styled Bai Lu should never work again except at a circus, however.

24 Cross Fire - not my genre and Luhan will always look too much like my cousin for comfort, but it’s a surprisingly gripping and dark drama. I liked it!

23 God of Lost Fantasy - if you want to watch a mediocre wuxia/xianxia, this is not a bad choice. Probably better than Legend of Fei actually, because at least it doesn’t have an A-list cast to waste and gives us Sheng Yilun himbo and shirtless.

22 Renascence - the insane cuts (it went from 70 eps to 36!!!) made a fairly cheesy story into a total mess. But I had a good time until I finally bailed mainly because of the male lead (Chen Zhe Yuan yet again carrying a not-good 2020 drama on his shoulders; the guy should be nicknamed Atlas) and the insane but in a fun way story. The female lead (both the character and the actress) were not up to par but oh well.

21 Legend of Fei - only this high because objectively there is nothing I disliked it. But there is nothing I liked either. The most uninspired drama on the list. If you could eat cardboard, this is what it would taste like.

20 Ever Night 2 - compared to EN1, it’s a waste of film. On its own merits, it’s not very good (the cast replacements are uniformly inferior and Dylan Wang is so wrong for Ning Que I cannot even put it into words; the script is useless.) But it had some parts I loved so very VERY much (all the shippy stuff was perfection) so I don’t feel too bitter.

19 Castle in the Sky 2 - a lovely if not too complex fairy tale. It is inferior to its prequel because it doesn’t have Zhang Ruo Yun who elevated it, but it’s still a solid bit of fun.

18 The Great Ruler - it’s very high fantasy, very pretty, and surprisingly involving.

17 (tie) Legend of Two Sisters in the Chaos - the secondary couple steals the show but the rest is not too bad if not too involving.

17 Legend of Awakening - a solid bit of fun with a seriously BDSM streak (theme this year apparently - but come on, the lead’s powers only activate when he’s in extreme pain!) It’s a bit generic and the costuming is done by a blind person, not to mention the OTP is a NOTP, but the rest of relationships (romantic and platonic) are wonderful (I live for the found siblings story in this one) and I like most of the characters.

16 Consummation - a rare modern cdrama I liked; a sweet coming of age story (and love story) even if wrapped in a pretty weird virtual reality concept.

15 Oops the King is in Love - this is how you do a low budget, sweet, silly piece of fluff. Our heroine pretends to be a eunuch and crosses paths with a powerless young king and they are adorable, even more so than the drama.

14 Song of Glory - pretty solid, though draggy and I didn’t love the toothpaste filter. But A+ cast, excellent leading couple chemistry, Li Qin being a BAMF and a leading man (Qin Hao) who is actually an adult.

13 And the Winner is love - objectively kind of a mess (and the heroine has the brainpower of a gnat), but the OTP chemistry is excellent and Luo Yunxi fighting and flirting with a fan as finally a leading man is worth the price of admission.

12 Miss S - snazzy and snappy and stylish and whatever else starts with S.

11 Eternal Love of Dream - I don’t know if it would work for you as well if you weren’t a hardcore shipper for this OTP in Three Lives but I was and this was such a darling, wonderful, shippy delight; plus I love this type of high fantasy.

10 (tie) Maiden Holmes - solid and sweet and a wonderful OTP. Proves that functional doesn’t have to mean boring. If you watch one cross-dressing drama this year make it this one.

10 Qin Dynasty Epic - srs bsns history epic. I am not far into it but it’s so good and smart and visually stunning (if you love battles, this one is for you.)

9 Love Lasts Two Minds - I adored this so much more than I should objectively have, but it’s so beautiful (and no I am not just referring to Alan Yu’s face) and the OTP has wonderful chemistry and the story is solid, and the whole trope of her memory being wiped but falling for him all over again while he’s constantly and utterly devoted is a fave; plus he’s in pain and semi-dyng for most of it so sluuuurp (happy ending, don’t worry)

8 To Love - yes, a modern drama is this high! But it involves intensity, tragedy, genuine adults and sexiness that is Lin Gengxin. And there is an actual plot and darkness OMG!

7 Legend of Xiao Chuo - so beautiful, so fun, so full of gorgeousness of Shawn Dou. Plus, Liao is a rare setting for a cdrama and there are a lot of characters and stories I liked a LOT. Less ship content than I wanted but more than I expected.

6 The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so so delightful. I was literally laughing out loud. I have no idea if it will work as well if one isn’t a seasoned watcher of period cdrama/reader of web novels, with bonus for watching/reading Goodbye My Princess, but it was a complete delight for me (and yes, I shipped for real, as well. Best of both worlds.)

5 Twisted Fate of Love - Jin Han gets a leading period drama role! And he’s enjoying it to the hilt, excellent as a smart, twisty bastard who is also charming and so madly in love with heroine. Sun Yi is beautiful and tough and her chemistry with JH is on fire, the story never drags, and it’s so twisty and fun and just awesome.

4 Love In Between - the most underrated drama on this list. It has no big names or big budget, but it’s wuxia that’s clever, driven, tragic, hopeful and so beautifully shot. Three separate (amazing) OTPs, a leading man who is so not typical (a doctor who cannot fight and who never acquires this ability) and who is intense and smart and damaged, a heroine who puts her quest ahead of her emotions, an unhealthy degree of involvement by yours truly. This is a drama Fei should have been.

3 Love and Redemption - such a lovely, addictive, utterly romantic fairy tale. I was obsessed with it for a reason. All the tropes you love and some you didn’t know you did, a star-crossed OTP to the nth power (and a secondary OTP I hardcore love), a twisty yet coherent plot, some insane chemistry and so much whump and hurt/comfort they must have bought blood packets in bulk.

2 Go Ahead - yes, I can’t believe it either. A contemporary slice of life cdrama made it this high on my list. But the way it feels so real, the found family perfection, the characters I love and loathe, the perfect cherry of a wonderful OTP that hits my narrative kinks on top, and just a perfect storm of loveliness all around with this one.

1 The Wolf - is that any surprise to anyone who’s checked out this tumblr for the last couple of months? Tragic, intense and gorgeous; so romantic and angsty and passionate it made me lose my mind (though some of it was gone the moment the camera panned to Darren Wang) - all my favorite tropes and then some; this is a drama that may not be perfect but it is 100% and then beyond perfect for ME.

FAVORITE DRAMA

The Wolf - I have seen objectively better cdramas; even this year. But it has been literal years since I have been this hardcore obsessed, this utterly pleased, this emotionally catered to and devastated at once. A beautiful dark fairy tale that manages to own me despite the storytelling gaps due to censorship, it took me for one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my drama watching career. Visually gorgeous, poetic, intense, and so romantic it took my breath away, this is not just my favorite cdrama of 2020, it’s my favorite drama this year period, and the one cdrama this year to make it into my permanent Top 10 cdramas list.

WORST DRAMA

Legend of Jin Yan - see my write up for it for why as I refuse to waste more time on this stupid mess.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Wolfie, The Wolf - he is such a haunted, tormented, complex, dark mess; loving and violent, severely damaged and with a hidden yearning softness, longing and aloof. And the amount of charisma and sheer masculine sex appeal Darren Wang brings to the role is insane and not something I see much of in a cdrama. Plus, that character arc with its rapid fall and slow painful redemption is A++++

Runner Up:  Sifeng, Love and Redemption - has a male lead ever loved more utterly and selflessly, suffered more thoroughly and beautifully, and managed to have such chemistry with both his leading lady and his leading man (that his leading lady temporarily turned into) at once? The answer is no.

Almost made the cut - Feng Xi, Twisted Fate of Love, Han Shuo, The Romance of Tiger and Rose, Qing Ci, Love in Between.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Qian, The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so funny, so much the reason this drama was such a delight. I adore her beyond words.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Murder Daddy, The Wolf - I am sad the censors robbed us of seeing him die on screen. He was fully human but nonetheless managed to be the worst monster in a drama full of literal ones.

Ling Xiao’s Mom, Go Ahead - I hate her so much I don’t want to look up her name. She abused the kid, the disappeared and came back to abuse him some more. I mean she literally gave her child mental health issues. She is the WORST.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xing’er x Wolfie, The Wolf - are you kidding me? Who else could it ever be for me? They destroyed each other and saved each other, sworn enemies and childhood lovers, soulmates and epic messes, they couldn’t live with or without each other. The longing, the passion, the intensity, the angst, the epicness. LIKE THERE ARE NO WORDS!!!!

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Si Yuan, Shen Manqing, Love in Between - I loved them as much and often more than the main OTP. So much angst and passion and a happy ending! She is a seeming sect darling (except the sect is horrible and also sexist so her only worth is as a marriage candidate) and he’s an information broker who is actually one of the members of a destroyed sect that’s blamed for the massacre of her family. That chemistry and yearning is insane. The scene where she touches his face when he’s unconscious was in serious running for my favorite scene of 2020.

NOTP

Legend of Awakening - I have never seen a couple that didn’t just have no chemistry but exhibited actual revulsion towards each other before watching Chen Feiyu and Cheng Xiao try to act as lovers in this one. It was almost entertaining to be honest.

FAVORITE SCENE

It’s a tie and both are from The Wolf. One is a sequence where Wolfie marches to the walls alone, seeking death at Xing’er’s hands and the whole sequence with the battle and rescue follows. The other is the intercut between Xing’er going to her wedding and Wolfie going to his execution, and the auto-da-fe being intercut with her wedding.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Wolfie, The Wolf - Ummm have you seen this tumblr lately, it’s basically a drool shrine to the man.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Yelü Yansage, The Legend of Xiao Chuo - I have loved this actor since The Myth and he continued to competently steal every scene he was in.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

To Love - come out of the coma, dammit!!!!!!!

NEEDS A DIRECTOR’S CUT

The Wolf - duh. It started out as 59 eps and got cut to 49. I reaiize some stuff is never gonna get put in due to censorship, but some of the stuff that got cut got for time reasons because they were deluded and hoping to get a TV broadcast so ep count had to be under 50. I mean I doubt the censors would care if they kept scenes of Wolfie building her a swing or whatever. I really really want a director’s cut the way Goodbye My Princess did even if like with GMP it’s only three extra eps. Hell, I will take extra three minutes, as long as those three minutes are Darren Wang shirtless or with a sword. Ahem.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

The Song of Glory - it’s a fairly solid drama but honestly it didn’t need to be as long as it was and kind of got draggy and I got lost interest. (I could have gotten snarky and said all the dramas I didn’t like needed scissors taken to them in their entirety but decided to play nice.)

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

There are a number of dramas I could complain about with regard to this (hi there, darling The Wolf!) but this award goes to Renascence - poor Renascence was never going to be a masterpiece, but it had the potential to be a bit of good cheesy fun until it had its run time cut by more than half and became an incoherent piece of insanity.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Dumb shrill innocent heroine who can’t tie her shoes - see basically all the cdramas I didn’t like this year.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Male lead torture - I mean it’s always open season on that in cdramas, but between Love and Redemption, The Wolf, Love Lasts Two Minds, Love in Between and so on, it was a banner year!

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Legend of Fei - what a waste of that cast; what a waste of our finite time on this Earth. What a waste of my intelligence to hope for something better and stick with it for a dozen eps. I have had stale wonderbread that had more personality than this drama.There is absolutely nothing that stands out about this drama in any way,  from half-dimensional characters, to actors who are sleepwalking, to a plot that moves at the speed of an arthritic snail, to uninspired cinematography and direction, to lack of any chemistry between anyone in the cast. If paint-by-numbers was done by a group of particularly linear robots, it might come across the same way as this drama.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

The Wolf - honestly, I did not expect it to come out AT ALL EVER let alone to become my favorite drama of 2020. I was not familiar with the leading man (hahah), I liked Li Qin but wasn’t yet obsessed with her, and Xiao Zhan was excellent in The Untamed but I was hardly going to follow him from drama to drama (and I don’t do SLS any way.) And the trailer was enjoyable but unlike seemingly everyone, I didn’t think it was going to be some epic masterpiece. And then it came out and while it wasn’t objectively an epic masterpiece, it pulled out all the favorite tropes, shippy and narrative kinks from the deepest darkest recesses of my id. And I fell harder than I have in years. 

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

Novoland Eagle Flag and Joy of Life - they are in my Top 10 dramas from anywhere now. They are quite different except being smart and giving me protagonists to obsess over.

ETA: Also The Untamed because @idlewilds3 pointed out I actually watched it in 2020 even though I didn’t think so because this hellyear has lasted about three decades.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

I am gonna limit it to dozen and leaving out ones that aren’t necesarily supposed to air next year (Joy of Life 2, Love in Flames of War, Novoland Princess from Plateau.)

Monarch Industry, Novoland Pearl Eclipse, Silk Washing Stream, Dream of Changan, Sword Snow Stride, Wu Xing Shi Jia, Ancient Love Poetry, Immortality, The Long Ballad, Mirror Twin Cities, The Imperial Age, Fall In Love

[missperfectlyfine13]

A Bandaid For Your Bullet Hole (8/?)

Read Below or on AO3

For the next couple days, Chloe floats through life lightly, happily. Blissfully content with the fact that Beca is going to break up with Jesse…sometime. There’s a nagging doubt in the back of her head, that crawls up like bile into the back of her throat every now and then. She’s choosing to look at the positive though. Beca will be hers soon. Beca is choosing her.

After the third day since their conversation, she starts to get antsy again. It’s only been three days though. Maybe Beca hasn’t had a chance to see him yet? She doesn’t know his schedule, she does know Beca’s though, and she’s had ample opportunity to take the leap. She chooses to stay blissfully unaware of the situation.

When it hits the week mark, Chloe finally is realizing that Beca might not actually do it. She has a hard time understanding why, when a week ago they sat on Beca’s bed, confessing that they both still have feelings for each other. Beca told her that she wanted to break up with Jesse. They almost kissed…again. So to say she’s a little confused would be an understatement. She has noticed that there’s been something a little off about Beca for the past couple weeks. There’s something wrong, something that she’s not telling Chloe.

She knows she’s pulling a cheap card by doing it this way, but it’s the only way she can think to get Beca alone for a few minutes, “Beca?” she calls out into the auditorium during Bella’s rehearsal.

Beca’s head snaps up from the conversation she was holding with Fat Amy.

“Can you stay after for a few minutes, I need to speak with you?” Chloe says it as professionally as she can, she doesn’t want to raise any suspicion amongst the girls that this is for something more personal.

“OOO, someone’s in trouble,” Amy immediately taunts and Beca’s face turns red.

“Shut up Amy,” the brunette quips before meeting Chloe’s eyes and responding, “yea, I can stay.”

Aubrey gives Chloe a suspicious side eye, obviously she’s the only Bella who knows what’s going on between the two. She wants this conversation to take place almost as much as Chloe does, “that was bold.”

“She’s still avoiding me,” Chloe explains herself quietly as she watches the girls fumble through their tired choreography for the 20th time today, “I had to.”

“I just hope she’s finally honest with you,” Aubrey says almost solemnly, “you need to move on.”

Chloe didn’t want to think it, but she’s right. She does need to move on if this “thing” she has with Beca isn’t going anywhere.

“You know, that little hobbit has done nothing but cause trouble since she showed up,” Aubrey huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “she’s constantly trying to undermine me in practice and competitions and now she’s stringing you along like a sad, leashed puppy.”

Chloe tries her hardest not to say something she’ll regret to the blonde standing next to her, but there’s a hair of truth to what she’s saying , it does feel like she’s stringing her along, but Chloe finds herself standing up for the freshman anyways, “Don’t Bree. Beca has been SO good to me this year, she’s been there for me through it all.”

Aubrey spins to look at Chloe, and Chloe carefully meets her gaze.

She looks hurt and it makes Chloe instantly regret her words, “I would have been there for you if you let me. You chose her over and over again Chloe. You didn’t give me a chance to be there for you.”

“You’ve been out of your mind this year Aubrey!” Chloe does snap at that one, “You’re so obsessed with winning that I barely recognize you most days! Excuse me for thinking you wouldn’t be available.”

Chloe may have said it a little louder than she had intended, the two best friends have garnered the attention of all the girls, who are all standing with their mouths hanging open at the little display.

Aubrey brings a hand for her forehead, rubbing her temples vigorously, “Practice is over. Don’t expect me to give you another free pass like this,” she waves her hand dismissively at the girls, who are already starting to file out. Except for Beca.

Beca approaches the two older girls carefully, like she’s not sure if there will be a repeat explosion, “I know this is probably none of my business…”

Aubrey gives Beca a sharp look, “Actually Beca, this is your problem. You two need to fix your shit.”

The blonde grabs her bag and starts heading for the door.

“Wait Bree,” Chloe puts out a hand to stop her.

“We’ll talk later,” Aubrey doesn’t even stop for a second, she’s already halfway to the door.

Chloe’s eyes finally meet Beca’s. The younger girl looks confused, but at the same time, completely aware of what the problem is.

“I owe you an explanation,” Beca says softly.

Chloe shakes her head, “I can’t do this anymore Beca. I don’t need an explanation. When you are serious about this, come and find me, but don’t expect me to wait around for you.”

Now it’s Chloe’s turn to grab her things and leave. She can already feel hot tears stinging her eyes. That wasn’t what she was planning to say, but her little blow out with Aubrey changed her plan entirely. Chloe wants to be patient and kind and talk to Beca to figure out where the hesitation is coming from, but at the same time, she’s tired. A part of her regrets not sticking around to hear her out though.

She can hear Beca faintly behind her, “Chloe wait…”

It takes all her willpower to push the door open and leave, instead of staying and hearing the brunette out. When the cool air hits her face, she finally lets her emotions go. Angry tears stream down her cheeks. She’s mad at Aubrey, mad at Beca, mad that nothing has ever seemed to go her way. The only good thing that’s happened lately was her mom checking into rehab. That in itself is a whole other topic that she’s barely let herself think about…

************

When Chloe got back to the house she went right up to her room, hoping to avoid her angry best friend. They have their issues to work out but she’s too upset about Beca at the moment to think about it.

This whole situation is a mess. It makes her wish that she had just kept her mouth shut, just continued to quietly pine over Beca. Instead she had to tell the freshman and look at the mess it got her in.

Chloe’s currently in a large Barden hoodie and sweatpants, wrapped up in a blanket on her bed. She’s been trying to sleep but her mind just won’t shut off. At first she doesn’t hear it, but the second time there’s a faint knock at her door, her head pops out from under the covers.

Presuming it’s Aubrey, she sits up and quietly answers, “Come in.”

When the door opens, it’s definitely not Aubrey. The site of Beca in her doorway steals her breath out of her throat, she’s the last person she expected to be on the other side of that door.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks in disbelief, as she shoves the blankets completely away from herself and fully sits up.

“Aubrey let me in, she said you were up here,” Beca replies so softly Chloe can scarcely hear her.

That barely answered her question, “But why Beca? Why are you here?”

“I did it. I broke up with him,” she can tell now, from Beca’s face, that she has indeed been crying, her eyes puffy and cheeks red and blotchy.

“What?” she hardly believes it’s true, after all the time it’s taken.

“I broke up with Jesse,” Beca closes to door behind her and slowly makes her way into the room.

Chloe’s not quite sure what to say, she wasn’t expecting Beca to break up with her boyfriend any time soon. She wasn’t expecting her to do it at all.

“Do you really want to be with me Bec?” she’s not able to filter herself before the question is out, but she needs to know, with how hesitant the other girl has been and how upset she looks standing in Chloe’s room right now.

Beca’s eyes meet hers as she answers in a truly genuine tone, “Yes.”

“Then why did it take so long?” Chloe swings her legs over so her feet are dangling off the side of the bed.

Beca takes the move as her invitation and sits down next to the red head, “I guess I have some more explaining to do.”

Chloe nods, “Tell me what’s wrong Bec.”

Beca sighs deeply before talking, “When I came out to you, when you came home with me for Christmas, I wasn’t entirely truthful.”

“Ok…” Chloe can’t really tell where this conversation is going, but she assumes it will lead to some sort of an answer.

“I said I dated girls in high school,” Beca’s eyes fall to the floor and she takes another deep breath, “well, it was actually more like one girl and it was a mess. She was great…it was everyone else. We were public about it and the people in our school weren’t exactly accepting. We had mean notes slipped in our lockers, name calling through the hallways, anything you can think of that’s hateful, it probably happened to us. My mom and stepdad were supportive of us, but my dad wasn’t. He and the step-monster damn nearly disowned me. I’m still not sure if my dad was ever ok with it, or if she just brainwashed him.”

Chloe reaches a hand out to lay on top of Beca’s, she meets Beca’s glassy gaze with sympathy, “I’m so sorry that happened to you Bec.”

Beca nods slightly and continues with her story, “We broke up my senior year because I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t take the judgement. When I started dating Jesse, it seemed like my redemption with my dad, not that I would ever do anything just to please him, but things felt a little less strained. When I graduated and started college, it was my chance to scrub everything clean. I would no longer be Beca the dyke.”

Beca takes a long, deep, shaky breath. She lets a few stray tears fall, they land on Chloe’s lavender blanket, leaving a dark, salty purple mark behind. Maybe Chloe shouldn’t have been so pushy…she hopes she hasn’t made Beca do anything that was uncomfortable for her.

“Then I met you,” Beca smiles slightly, at the mention of the red head sitting next to her, “and everything changed. I knew I liked you from the moment we started talking. I just wasn’t sure if I could do it again. Could I handle the name calling, the judgment and the strain on my relationship with my dad, especially because he’s the sole reason I’m at Barden.”

“I had no clue Beca,” Chloe mutters in disbelief.

Beca shakes her head, “I didn’t tell you anything, I should have. You deserved to know why I’ve hesitated.”

“This isn’t high school anymore though Bec,” Chloe’s not sure if it’s the right thing to say, but she has to let the younger girl know that she won’t face the same thing here at Barden, “no one is going to be slipping hateful notes in your locker. You are free to be yourself…all the Bellas have your back…our back, even Aubrey.”

“I know that, now. It took me a while to figure out if I could do it,” Beca seems to have perked up at Chloe’s encouraging words, “but I knew I had to, because I want to be with you Chlo, so much.”

“What about your dad?”

“Screw my dad,” she shakes her head, “our relationship is already bad right now, might as well put the icing on the cake. He hates that I want to be a music producer…plus he’s still pissed at me for shattering that window at the semis.”

Chloe can’t help but smirk, remembering the night Beca went to “jail”, “So this was a pretty big decision for you…you really do want this?”

“More than anything,” Beca replies simply, now a smile on her face, the remainder of her tears already dried on her cheeks.

“And Jesse is definitely no longer in the picture?” Chloe can’t help but ask one more time.

“Not at all.”

“Well in that case,” Chloe smirks and slides in closer to the brunette.

Beca meets her halfway, and their lips are on each other’s in a matter of seconds. Somehow this kiss is better than their first one. This time Chloe can feel how genuine it all is, the way Beca’s lips move so freely and passionately against hers. They pull away quicker than she’d like. Beca’s cheeks are a slight shade of red, but this time it’s not because she’s been crying.

“I really want to keep kissing you,” Beca says sweetly, but in a way that makes Chloe’s insides melt, “but I have to ask you this first…will you go out with me tonight?”

She’s not sure what she thought Beca was going to ask, but she wasn’t exactly expecting that question for some reason, “Yes, of course.”

“Ok cool,” Beca replies softly before leaning in again.

Chloe reconnects their lips quickly, and this time there’s a new feeling she can’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it’s desperation, neediness…dare she say love? All she knows right now is that she could spend the rest of her life kissing Beca Mitchell. The way the other girl is kissing her back, Chloe has a suspicion she feels the same way.

[tourmvlines]

alright gang, finally got my shit together long enough to write this bad boy up. yes, her blog is still ugly so look away ❤️ anyway, first things first, i’m jo, i’m twenty-one, i’m in pst, and i’m very excited to be here 😌 check below the cut for more info on miss sloane because my app is too much of a mess to be linked :p thank u for ur time

[ COURTNEY EATON, CIS FEMALE, SHE / HER ] shh ! sloane jennings, the twenty year old second year public health major from chicago, illinois, is known as a tourmaline around here. she was invited to join because of her versatility and her academic record, and now, they’re here to stay. she reminds me of a cigarette tucked behind your ear, sitting on the rooftop to watch the sunset, & wishing on dandelions.

pinterest .  statistics .  connections .

basics.

full name: sloane alice jennings    birthday: june 13th, 2000 astrology: gemini sun, scorpio moon, libra rising mbti: enfp-a, the campaigner positive: adaptable, intuitive, loyal negative: flighty, naive, hedonistic

about.

click here for sloane’s full bio.

sloane was born to pepper liu and dinah jennings, lesbian activist icons of their day who mostly lived by allowing the wind to move them. they made friends everywhere and for the first years of sloane’s life, they bring her with them everywhere

eventually, pepper and dinah settle down and decide to live somewhere permanent for sloane’s sake and so she could go to school somewhere. they decide on san francisco, california, a city that’s near and dear to them. unfortunately, they die in a fire before sloane can ever start school

after that, sloane is sort of passed around old friends of pepper and dinah, a series of unfortunate events style. the key difference however is that there is never any doubt that sloane is so deeply loved. everywhere she goes, she’s always well taken care of

they always tell her stories of her mothers and it’s never a case of sloane feeling abandoned or like she’s been struck with bad luck just because she’s raised so well

in high school, she does a million extracurriculars. she tries water polo for a little bit, she was in a band for the last two years of high school, she literally does SO much community service, she tries everything because she’s genuinely interested in everything

most of her motivation for college was because of her mothers’ desire for her to do something good with herself because otherwise she never would have gone but she applied and she got into strathmore! 

on the society: she honestly never even knew about the society until she got the invitation because it’s just not something that would be on her radar, but now that she’s in it, she sees how much good it can do for her. that doesn’t mean she takes it as seriously as other people do but she’ll go along with all their bells and whistles.

personality. adaptable, intuitive, loyal, flighty, naive, hedonistic

a lot of my inspiration for sloane comes from the concept of angels doing unholy things and this post in particular, not every single bullet point, but you get the gist.

i think sloane’s most defining character trait is her ability to adapt. her mothers were never able to stay in one place for very long making friends everywhere they went, and so all of sloane’s guardians came from everywhere. she was raised with a tremendous amount of care and love just because dinah and pepper were so loved, so moving around was never that much of an issue. she’s always been able to make the best of her situation and has always found ways to make homes no matter what city or town she’s in.

one of the things about sloane is that she’s never been alone. she was orphaned before the age of ten, but the friends of her mothers have taken a lot of care in making sure that she’s never felt lonely. relying on people and having a sense of community is so essential for sloane wherever she goes. it’s one of the few things she appreciates in the society.

going off on that, people have looked out for sloane her entire life and i think that’s a large part of the reason why she chose her major. it was important for her to do something that would allow her to serve her community and improve it. she’s never really cared that much about fame or wealth or whatever, but she’s always cared about people and doing good by them. a lot of her upbringing was about making do, making your voice heard, standing by your people and these are lessons she carries with her everywhere

just another thing to say that i do think the way she was raised has made her more trusting of people in general and can make her a little naive because she operates under the assumption that, more often than not, people look out for others when that isn’t always the case

that isn’t to say that she doesn’t know how to be alone, however, because she does and she’s honestly really good at being alone. people in her life made sure she knew she wasn’t alone and sloane has always been very aware of that, but the fact still stands that she’s an orphan. sloane has always been content with being on her own. even if she stayed with people who had kids her own age, she of course made fast friends with them but would also spend a lot of time on her own just because she is a little strange. 

i do think there’s a sort of scrappy charm to sloane. she isn’t rough around the edges but she isn’t all prim and proper either. there’s something very weathered about the way she carries herself, like she’s already seen the whole world and experienced so much. and in a lot of ways, she has tbh

i guess one of the other things is she’s sort of… strange? in the most approachable way possible. sloane truly walks to the beat of her own drum and does whatever she likes but the fact that she’s so unapologetic about it and so open about it makes it easier to befriend her. strange in the sense that she’s superstitious, doesn’t really have a filter, and generally doesn’t follow trends of any sort. like i hate typing that because i don’t mean for her to be a ‘i was born in the wrong generation’ type of girl but i just think she can be a little intense sometimes LMAO

i know i’m circling back, but i think a large part of why she’s so adaptable is because she doesn’t do much changing between places. like her core is unwavering and she makes space for herself, but she knows how to read people and that is what changes. the way she treats and interacts with people changes based on how she sizes them up and she’s pretty good at sizing people up so they tend to feel more comfortable with her

despite sloane being unapologetic about her life, i do think she tends to be more on the private side. like yeah, she doesn’t hide anything about the way she acts and doesn’t water herself down for people but it’s rare for her to talk about herself for too long. she’s more likely to ask people questions during a conversation and ask about them without really giving anything away herself

headcanons.

has been smoking cigarettes since she was super young after she stole a pack from her guardian at the time at the age of 12, is most definitely going to die of lung cancer

she used to play bass in her band in high school because she’s cool and sexy

superstitious. avoids cracks on the sidewalk, throws salt over her left shoulder, carries a rabbit’s foot, the whole deal

kids love sloane. they always have. even babies always take a liking to her even if she’s a stranger. the one who can always get the fussy baby to calm down and sleep

loves abba!!!! mamma mia is her dream broadway show like it feels like something she would come up with

always fidgeting or shaking her leg or playing with her hair, like literally cannot sit still for the life of her and has always been super restless

so extremely punctual that it surprises most people. sloane seems like the type to always be late to things but quality time is her love language, so she always always shows up to things on time because she never wants to miss out. this is more about her seeing people, but it does carry over to other commitments because time is so precious to her

spends a lot of her time doing community service. she believes in helping people okay! every winter, she cleans out her closet as best she can and hands out coats or blankets to people on the streets. even if she’s never had much, this is pretty important for her. she almost always tries to spare some change when she sees homeless people. 

she volunteers at the hospital because she’s a health major but she also just loves hanging out with the babies

her favorite picture is of she and her mothers at a protest when she was five years old. she’s sitting on pepper’s shoulders and she’s missing a tooth. dinah’s kissing pepper on the cheek, and they all just look so happy. 

she’s got three piercings on each ear and a cartilage piercing in her left ear; she loves jewelry and earrings and changes them frequently

she wears whatever she wants or whatever’s comfortable; like it honestly just depends on her mood but she DOES wear her docs often and with anything she can think of because they’re her favorite pair of shoes

some favorites !

movie: kiki’s delivery service

tv show: community, freaks & geeks

book: normal people

season: spring

color: green

[delicatejisung]

*:..｡o○　𝗮𝗸𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝘂𝗹 𝗱𝗷 𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗻 𝟭𝘀𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗮𝗿𝘆 (𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗼 𝘄/ 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗮, 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗻𝗹𝗲 & 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝗺𝗶𝗻): 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗵𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀　○o｡..:*

❁ yanna arrived a few seconds after the two, holding a cup of smoothie and giving a cup to the staff fixing the mic as she sat beside renjun

❁ the three boys laughed at the way yanna left the staff flustered but she was just like “????” at the three

❁ as renjun introduced them, her first words were “OH YEAH” which she said with jaemin and the two high-fived

❁ “hi everyone, i’m chunhua.”

❁ “are you gonna speak chinese today, yanna?” “yes, i want to confuse jaemin so i’m gonna try my best” [cue jaemin already asking what they’re talking about]

❁ renjun asked yanna if she prefers doing a morning call or aegyo but she said she hates both, making the three laugh

❁ in the end, she did aegyo as well and said “ren d, good job! i love you~” in a cute voice making renjun flustered for 5 seconds as chenle laughed

❁ “please screen record that and send it to me on bubble, thank you~” she said towards the camera

❁ “honestly, his growth is really evident if you listen to him a lot. at the dorms, we listen to him and watch almost all the time so we really got to see how well he has improved.” “you mean YOU listen and watch?” “yeah, sometimes it’s just me who does it unless they aren’t busy.”

❁ “is there any difference from the normal renjun and the radio renjun?” “not much, maybe just a bit? actually, it depends on what part of the show. since sometimes when you read the script you really sound professional but when you.... have the discussion, you sound like the you that we know.”

❁ yanna recommended “cool” by dua lipa and sang along while it played, offering her smoothie to them

❁ when asked what programme they’d like to do if they were hosts yanna said she wants to discover things from the internet and try to learn more about it with the viewers since she’s really curious about a lot of stuff

❁ during “beautiful time” yanna did the shoulder thing and renjun followed after

❁ there were a few times the renjun and chenle kept speaking mandarin so yanna could only understand half of what they’re saying and would talk to jaemin and laugh

❁ chenle recommended “when i was your man” and said it was for no particular reason and yanna nodded and stretched

❁ [cue renjun finally talking to yanna right when it plays as jaemin subtly looks away and chenle just goes “👁👄👁”]

❁ “honestly, us dream members would also like to thank the pds for helping him out a lot. since we’re not here with him, we’re happy that he found people who are very willing to guide him when we can’t really help him out. thank you~” she said warmly as chenle said “i think she’s trying to steal your job” to which they only laughed at

❁ “we’re really thankful for everyone who are waiting for us and patiently supporting us. we all miss you guys and we hope the content we are putting out recently can make you guys happy for now. we will see you soon, don’t worry~”

❁ as 7 days played, yanna stretched a bit while chenle gave her knowing smile as she threw a pen at him

❁ her phone rang and she laughed at who it was, showing the three that it was taeyong

❁ “thank you for having me again, i really enjoy everytime i’m here and everyone’s really warm all the time. i’ll promise to learn more so i can come here often and bring more to the table.”

❁ “bye bye~” she said to the camera as “i like me better” started playing

❁ as jaemin and renjun “kkyu”-ed at the camera, she followed while pulling chenle

[bonus: yizhibo live]

❁ yanna was seated behind renjun, on her phone, when the live started

❁ “YA!” she again said to the blonde girl filter who kept kissing renjun

❁ as jaemin tried to kiss it back, yanna also went “stop, czennies will be upset!”

❁ she said she’s been focused on dancing lately “for nothing special at all but just for my own improvement” she made it clear

❁ yanna mentioned “it’s awkward but it’s okay” and how much fun she had filming it but said the fans should wait if she will be in an awkward pair or just hosting the whole show

❁ “taeil-hyung said on bubble that he wants to see jisung and jaehyun-hyung on it” she told them and the three laughed at how good that would be if ever

❁ she said she doesn’t watch nct life because waiting for it to end and watching it in one go is more ideal for her

❁ “yanna is always ranked in the middle when there’s rankings for the games” chenle observed and yanna smiled proudly

❁ yanna said “i’m sleepy!” and renjun replied with “you’re always sleepy on the way home”

❁ yanna also told jaemin that czennies comment in korean a lot for her so she’s sure they’ll do it for him too and they did

❁ as they taught jaemin chinese, yanna taught him “我是最亮的星星” saying it’s something every dream member should say while chenle and renjun both said she just loves them all too much

❁ she also taught him “我是你的” saying he should tell czennies this

❁ yanna held the phone for a while and quietly read a comment saying “renjun, i love you” and said “i do too” before laughing as chenle yelled

❁ she also said there were a lot of questions and answered “yes~” to one but didn’t say which question it was

❁ in the middle of the vlive, yanna’s phone rang again and laughed as he saw who it was

❁ “the 127 hyungs are clingy today” she complained, showing the people who it was

❁ she only let it ring and then typed a message saying she can’t answer yet because she’s inside the car

❁ “they keep calling because they want to send beef at our dorms.” she said, making jaemin and renjun yell out in joy

❁ “but they’ll send it tomorrow morning, taeyong-hyung said.” she continued, making chenle pout and sulk

❁ as they talked about sm’s beautifying water, yanna said “i drank lots of it and yet...” implying she still isn’t beautiful to which chenle said “i’m offended for whoever likes you” [ya know, bc two of them are in the car lmao]

❁ yanna said that when they celebrated mark’s birthday, she kissed jisung’s cheek a lot bc he was too happy and cute that day

❁ “yanna’s been doing aegyo a lot lately” jaemin brought up, making the girl glare at him as renjun laughed

❁ the fans brought up yanna’s bubble about wanting a cat and said they also want to see her take care of one and she fake-cried saying “because of jeno-hyung...”

❁ as chenle said that he’ll do yizhibo lives more often when he learns how to do it, yanna said she’ll just ask for the company’s permission to have an instagram account and do ig lives since it seems easier

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 8

Hey guys! So sorry it took a bit longer this time to get a chapter out. As always I love hearing from you guys and every comment and Kudos keeps me going. Realy, your support, no matter how small you think it is, means a lot to me. This chapter is a bit slower, in my opinion, but I hope you all will like it!

Read on AO3 or see Masterpost for more chapters!

Em had decided to drop the investigation into the Geiger counter and focus on more productive investigations. The work schedule and manual from Mead’s closet would bear more fruitful and usable data, but it didn’t mean that moving from it was easy. Something about Stu’s death was off, they all knew it. Em knew about answer lay in that single page of shorthand gibberish.

Now they were in the library... her and Emily at least. Timothy was in a meeting. Langdon had the worst timing... or the best. Depended on what eyes you looked with.

A book sat in her lap, closed after she had read the last page. Dante’s Divine Comedy — she had meant to read it above ground but... well she had meant to do a lot of things. As the days went on the more worry she had over an idea of an afterlife. She was desperate for it and if, as an unbeliever, she was cast to hell, she’d much prefer to have an idea what torture she faced.

Frowning, her hand went to her throbbing leg. Em prayed her sewing skills were enough to mend the wound, small but deep. She had dressed it with some cloth from the towel she had bloodied and tied it in place with a ribbon. Most of the time she could hardly feel it, but one wrong move and she was hissing in pain.

Emily was doing some reading of her own, that of the more productive sort. She understood science much better than Em did and was having a go at the Geiger counter note.

“You know what I hate most about stories?” the brunette mused aloud after staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes.

Emily’s eyes didn’t leave her book, “What?”

“The ending.”

Her friend's nose scrunched for a moment before she turned to her, “isn’t that the whole point of reading? To make it to the end?”

“It’s sad,” Em sighed, “isn’t it?”

Em shrugged, watching her friend stare at the sky, “depends on the ending.”

“No... happy or not... it’s sad.”

Emily sighed, closing her book and stashing the note in her corset, “I think you’ve been spending too much time in your own head.”

“So have you,” Em reminded.

“Because I’m trying to figure something out.”

This piqued Em’s interest, eyes glimmering with the excitement of something new as she leaned towards her friend. “A mystery.”

Emily laughed and shook her head at the other woman’s antics, “you make it sound dramatic.”

“We’re some of the last people on earth... everything we do is dramatic as there is nothing to compare it to.”

“You’re eccentric, you know that?”

Em was starving for something new to investigate. Her mind needed a focus or else it would go into the worst places. “What’s the mystery, Miss Holmes?”

Her friend rolled her eyes but quickly turned to business.

“Venable is hiding something.”

“Venable is hiding a great deal of things,” Em noted, “that isn’t something new. So is Langdon, but that’s part of his job description.”

“Why the secrecy, though?”

“Knowledge is power.”

“But what is the truth?” Emily said, “we’ve been here for almost two years and all we’ve found out is when certain Wardens work and decontamination procedures and whatever else is in that manual.”

“Then how do we find out their secret plot?” Em asked, “preferably before we have to put that manual to good use.”

Emily rose from her seat and quickly made sure the library was empty. It wasn’t a particularly large library... about the size of the one at her high-school. She looked down every aisle before coming to sit back down, leaning in close to Em.

“Timothy and I are working one out,”

“Oh?” Em asked, raising an eyebrow.

Emily’s face flushed, “Not like that!”

“Don’t dash the power of a romantic subplot.”

“Did you always speak in poetry or have you finally gone insane?”

“I’ve simply lost my filter,” Em dismisses with a wave of her hand, “this plan of yours?”

“We need you to distract Langdon.”

El laughed, quickly quieting when she realized her friend wasn’t laughing along.

“That man would see right through any attempt.”

“He likes you,” Emily reminded, “why else would he call you to his office so often?”

“Bored cats will catch mice and watch them run around, barely surviving death for hours on end, just for their own amusement.”

“...so Langdon’s a cat.”

“He something far worse.”

Emily sighed, “will you help us or no?”

Em really didn’t want to tell her friend that she would be a hindrance to the investigation due to her injured leg. However, saying that would bring up more questions and she really didn’t want the girl to think she had completely lost her mind. Blackouts were one thing... homicidal urges were something else entirely. And the possibility of them happening at the same time? Not a cocktail she was willing to try.

“Your best bet is to observe his behavior and watch for patterns,” She noted, “find out when he’s distracted. You’re smart, Emily, that’s why you’re here.”

“So you’re not going to help us?”

“I want to live,” Em insisted, “the best I can do is keep silent while you two work. Venable’s already watching me like a hawk and she’d gladly take down all of us if it meant killing me.”

Emily understood her friend’s reluctance. Last time Em had a more hands-on role. She could take action if things went wrong.

“Don’t you want to know?” She asked, grabbing her friend’s hands and squeezing them, “knowledge is power, right?”

Em remembered her vision, Emily and Timothy laying on the floor while foaming at the mouth. Their eyes staring desperately at the sky as if begging god to spare them.

She cursed under her breath and pulled away from Emily’s touch, pinching her nose and sighing.

“Where do you need me to be?”

                                  --------------------------------------------

By the time Timothy arrived Em and Emily had long grown bored of talking plans. In all honesty, the less Em knew of what they were doing the better it was. If she got caught there’d be nothing to pry from her. All that mattered was Em would make a distraction at the right time, pretend to search through his office while Timothy and Emily searched his room.

For now, however, they were content to play Heads Up and pretend the real world didn’t exist.

“Am I a pretty… lady?” Em asked. She was never good at this game.

Emily was sitting in Timothy’s lap, draped over him like a cat with her legs propping up on the armrest of the sofa.

“Would she be?” Timothy asked her.

Emily hummed, “I’m not sure.”

“Let me rephrase it,” Em proposed, turning to Emily, “is she my type?”

“Yes,” Timothy answered a bit too quickly, Emily giving him a look and shaking her head.

“But she has—” he tried to reason.

“But she doesn’t have—” Emily reminded, the pair staring at one another until they burst into laugher. Emily curled into Timothy, her head resting in the crook of his neck.

They were interrupted, as always, by a screeching of the library doors. Laughter halted in their throats, eyes turning towards the sound of feet on carpet as silence overtook the room save the small sizzling of melted wax meeting fire.

Mead appeared from the shadows of the room, arms crossed as she came to stand before them. Her eyes narrowed as she realized two-thirds of them had a piece of paper taped to their heads, something written upon them which she could not see.

She turned to Em with and sighed, “Michael wants to see you.

Not bothering to hide her annoyance, Em rolled her eyes and rose from the armchair.

“Who was I?” She asked the pair.

“Gwyneth Paltrow,” Emily said with a smile.

Em turned to Timothy and gave him a look. Her type? Really?

“Oh, honey,” She said, “bless your heart.”

Emily smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “That’s southern for stupid.”

“You said Pepper Pots could get it!” Timothy exclaimed.

“Pepper Pots is a badass,” Em noted before turning to follow Mead.

“They’re the same person!” Timothy shouted, exasperated as Emily’s laughter echoed through the room. It only stopped when the door closed behind Em, sealing off the pair from the rest of the world.

“You have a—” Mead noted, motioning to Em’s head.

“Oh!”

Em laughed and took the card from her head, staring at it for a moment before turning to Mead.

“Do you mind?” She asked the woman, holding out the card. There were some things she’d like Langdon to not know, small as it may be.

Mead sighed, trying to sound annoyed as she took the paper.

“Half the time I don’t know what to expect with you three.”

“Have to pass the time somehow.”

“Who’s Gwenneth Paltrow?” Mead asked, opening the paper and turning it back and forth in her hand.

“Actress,” Em told her, side eying the paper and trying not to think of the dull ache in her leg, “always on about that crazy new-age stuff that makes no sense.”

Mead shrugged and pocketed the paper, “never was one for all that crap.”

“Me neither,” Em admitted, “only know the name because she got into some crazy cult shit.”

Her companion let out a barking laugh, an infectious smile crawling onto Em’s lip, “so did half of Hollywood.”

The woman showed no hint of suspicion towards Em. Then again, Mead was the type of person who knew how to control her speech and emotions until it was time to strike.

A familiar sound of a cane caught the pair’s attention as they made it up the stairs—  tap-ta-tap, tap-ta-tap. Em looked to Mead, trying to read any emotion on her face. There wasn’t… something that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Venable’s face greeted them as they turned onto one of the many upstairs hallways. Em took some satisfaction in the momentary widening of her eyes as the woman saw them. The expression quickly straightened, lips pursed as Venable tore her eyes from Em and laid them upon her escort.

“Miss Mead,” she said, voice reminding the brunette of when her parents pretended they weren’t at one another’s throats just a moment before they sat down for dinner, “May I have a word.”

Mead’s only response was a subtle nod before she turned to Em, “you know the way.”

Em offered her a friendly smile, making sure it remained on her face as she walked past Venable. Her contempt was so easy to read.

“Have a good day, Miss Mead.”

                                        -------------------------------

Langdon was standing by the fire when Em entered. It felt like he hadn’t moved since their last visit, affixed to the same spot she had left him with his hands behind his back. She took a moment to read the room as she closed the door quietly behind her.

There were no wardens in the room, meaning he probably didn’t see them in Mead’s room and that Venable most likely didn’t inform him of her suspicions. So Venable didn’t trust him… that was revealing.

“Is this another interview?” Em asked as she took a few steps forward. She imagined he already knew she was there, but her words finally forced him to turn and acknowledge her. A smile flickered to his lips as he turned to her.

“This time more of a social call.”

“Oh?” she said, a brow quirking up her forehead and a smirk finding it’s way to her lips, “Is that what you’re telling residents now?”

Langdon glanced to the floor, still smiling as he shook his head. Finally, he gestured to a set of armchairs facing the fire. She rounded them, taking the one on her right. Her hands rested on the back as she waited for Langdon to move.

His eyes were focused on her skirt, eyes slightly narrowed in thought. Her awkward gait was obvious to him, slight as the limp may be. Langdon didn’t note it, simply staring at the woman until she finally sat. Em did so with a sigh, eyes turning to the chess set that sat on a small table between them. It looked like he had been mid-game with someone.

“You play?” she asked as he sat next to her, legs crossing as he turned towards her ever slightly.

“On occasion. You?”

“I used to be good once,” She admitted with a rueful smile, hands going to straighten one of the knights, “but I haven’t played since I was a child.”

This visit felt different from the others. Langdon seemed almost relaxed, leaning back into his chair and hands free of any files. The fire crackled before them, making the world feel a little more quiet than usual.

“Why is that?” he asked. She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him, occupying herself by fiddling with the pieces.

“My parents weren’t overly fond of spending time with me… though they pretended they did.”

“Perhaps I can reteach you.” Langdon offered.

Finally, Em’s head rose from the chess set. He watched as green eyes flickered between himself and the fire, never quite meeting his gaze.

“I’d like that.”

They set to fixing up the chess pieces, exchanging pieces that lay on the other’s side. He chose the black pieces and she took the white — she’d have to make the first move. Though, that wasn’t surprising when it came to conversations with the man.

“You’ve spoken a lot about your parents,” he noted, “what about the rest of your family.”

“Emotionally abusive father and a codependent mother,” she noted, “are a perfect equation for isolation. One that kept us from reaching out to others and ensured that my siblings would rarely return home.”

“You feared him,” he noted, taking a bishop she held out to him, “your father.”

“Fear,” she corrected, “present tense.”

“But the bombs—”

“Fear is illogical that way,” Em noted, “What about you?”

“Me?”

“What was your family like?”

Langdon paused, eyes betraying his amusement as he debated what he said next. A few details wouldn’t hurt.

“I was adopted by a family friend after my grandmother committed suicide.”

She didn’t apologize as most people did. Her eyes said enough. He expected the usual questions, the kind one would encounter in therapy. Em was debating which ones would be appropriate.

“Do you miss her?”

“Which one?”

“Either.”

Langdon sighed and placed his last pawn in place, “someone once told me that nostalgia is much nicer than true memories.”

“smart person,” Em noted, moving her first piece — a knight.

“She was.”

He was quick to counter her move, choosing to move a pawn near the outer edges of the board. The fire crackled as a log snapped in two, settling into the center of the fire with a rippling crack.

“I have to admit your quick thinking is intimidating.”

“Take all the time you need,” he reassured.

Her hands hovered over the board, fingers twitching as she ran through possible outcomes in her head. When she spoke, her voice sounded distant.

“So you can pick at my brain while it’s distracted?”

Langdon chuckled, moving a piece after she moved forward another knight, “Something like that.”

A comfortable silence filled the room as they got into the game, Michael’s movements quick while Em took more time to play out moves in her head.

“Are you sure about that?” he had taunted at some point, a devilish grin on his face. Em paused for only a moment. If she didn’t move the rook to take his bishop he’d have check in two.

“Fuck off, Langdon,” she laughed, moving the piece despite his warning. Her laugh was infectious as he shrugged his shoulders and moved another piece.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Langdon won, naturally. Though Em had a feeling he hadn’t played fair. His smugness filled the room, leaning back in his chair with an air of content at having beaten her. It both annoyed and amused her — like when her brother beat her at Super Smash Bros.

“Another round,” she demanded and he rose a brow, sitting up in his seat. He rose an amused brow and she shook her head. “This time we play checkers.”

“Checkers?”

“I lived in the south,” she reminded, ignoring a stare that displayed how much the man was judging her, “there were Cracker Barrel restaurants on every major exit. One was right across from the college dorms I stayed in.”

“So you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Don’t worry,” she teased, “perhaps I can teach you.”

He smiled and put the chess pieces away as she pulled the checkers out from the compartment inside the board. She set them out and waited for him to make the first move.

“Can I ask you a few questions?” Em said as she quickly countered his move. He chuckled at the symmetry of her actions and waved his hand for her to proceed.

“Why was this place designed to fail?”

The way his hand hesitated over his piece betrayed his surprise, quickly recovering and completing his move. Her pieces clicked against the board as she countered, waiting for him to respond.

The blond straightened back into the iron mask he wore around the rest of the residents. “What makes you say that?”

Answering questions with questions. That was also a game she knew well.

“This whole place was designed on the tip of a knife,” She explained, balancing a checker on the tip of her finger, “We’re just waiting to lose our balance.”

To emphasize her point she allowed the checker to fall. It clattered on top of the other pieces she had stolen from Langdon.

“And what would you do to make it better?” he posed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Do you want me to alphabetically or categorically?”

Langdon leaned back with a short barking laugh. He stared at her with what she’d almost consider pride… the cat’s favorite mouse. He waved a hand again, prompting her to continue.

“Whatever is easier.”

The board lay between them, game abandoned in light of a more interesting chain of events. She mirrored his actions, considering which point to bring up first.

“This place was built by the rich, yes?”

He nodded, watching her intently.

“Why the hell would the rich settle for unfulfilling cubes?”

“Those cubes—”

Em cut him off with a sigh, “have all the nutrients we need but not all the calories. An extreme coupon mom would have a greater quantity and quality of rations than we do.”

The blond prepared himself for a long conversation, leaning his head against a hand that was propped up on the armrest of his chair. She stared at him, waiting for a response.

“What else?” he asked with a sigh.

“The Cooperative put in place a NASA-esk water filtration unit, but couldn’t find a way to have a self-sustaining food resource?”

“You make it sound easy,” he noted.

“It is,” She stated, “Scientists already had designs in place before the bombs dropped.”

“This does nothing to prove we intended the worst,” He nearly sang.

“Then why do you claim there is a sanctuary more equipped for this? Why is that not the standard for all the outposts?”

Langdon thought back to his first interaction with the girl. Her first accusation. He should have known she’d be trouble from the start… but perhaps he could use this to his advantage. Leaning forward, he moved another piece across the board.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Em was intent to get to her thesis — the final blow.

“You intended this from the beginning — make people desperate enough to see their true colors then pick them off one by one.”

He chuckled, twirling one of her pieces in his hands and he shook his head and stared into the fire.

“Someone’s done their research.”

“Venable and yourself are the most openly condescending people I’ve ever met… you both think you’re so smart and with this crowd that’s mostly the case.” She said with a scoff.

Em took one of his pieces, then another, “you’re so pleased with yourselves that anyone with a brain can look right through you and see your intentions. No offense.”

“None taken,” he said with a smile, “…Mostly the case?”

“Timothy and Emily were chosen for their genetics. That’s the only good choice The Cooperative has made thus far.”

“Your care for them makes you blind to their faults,” he noted, “no offense.”

“None taken.” Em said, offering a shrug as she collected three more of his pieces, “King me.”

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Langdon lost and as she had expected he did so poorly, immediately challenging her to another game. That meant what she had said had some effect on the man. He sought to cover his fumble with conversation as they began the next round, asking about her observations of Outpost Three’s inner-workings.

Even that conversation came to comfortable silence, Langdon far more intent on this game compared to the last. Em stared at him when he wasn’t looking, too busy playing out moves in his head. His lips would twitch ever slightly when he thought.

“Do you ever feel lonely?” she asked him, playing the question in her head a few times before speaking.

“Lonely?” He echoed, voice distant as he finally moved a piece, “I thought we already had this conversation.”

The brunette sighed and stared at the pieces for a long moment as she ran through what to say next.

“Do you ever have that feeling that something is supposed to be there, but isn’t?”

He also took a moment to think, mouth open for a moment as he chose the right words to say, “I’m afraid I am unfamiliar with the emotion.”

“You’re lucky then,” She admitted, “sometimes it’s often claustrophobic in nature… like looking for a friend in a sea of thousands.”

“I thought you said you were content with your own company?” he asked, moving his piece to the other side of the board, “king me.”

“I am, but… I can’t place it. It feels different somehow.”

He looked at her, brows knitted together as he moved another piece, “how so?”

“It’s the same yearning I feel for a sense of purpose,” she said, shaking her head and speaking before she could think. Her eyes were on Langdon, but the man could tell she was looking at something past the physical realm. “But more specific. I yearn for someone or something, but I can’t place it’s… like I’m looking at it through a fog.”

“We all left things behind in the old world,” he noted, giving her his full attention “perhaps you are searching for something you lost.”

She sighed, “but reminiscing on such things is a fruitless task. Nostalgia is only healthy in small doses.”

“Nostalgia can be good.”

“Too much of anything is a bad thing,” Em noted.

“That it is.”

A buzzing in her head made Em focus back on the game before her. The sound of pieces moving made the blond turn back towards her, out of his thoughts and back into the current moment.

“What is it like?” Em asked, changing the subject, “traveling from outpost to outpost?”

“Is that what prompted your question?” he asked, sighing as he forced his mind back on strategy.

“In part.” She admitted.

“I’d call it a time to reflect,” he noted with a sigh, “but it’s hard to think when you’re keeping an eye out for cannibals.”

Em’s gaze turned to the fire, brows bunched together at the bridge of her nose. Venable had been right. She had somewhat hoped the monsters the woman spoke of would be nothing but fear-mongering.

“It’s only been a year and people are already—”

She cut herself off. Biting her lips and shaking her head, she chided herself, “no… that’s not fair of me to say.”

“Law was the only thing keeping humankind from its unlimited cruelty,” Langdon noted, hardly phased as he got yet another piece to the other side of the board. He was a quick learner. “The outcome isn’t that much of a surprise.”

Em was quick to change the subject, “What did you see out there?”

“Nothing pleasant.”

For some reason, he wished to keep the reality from her. Whether out of compassion or a desire to keep her ignorant, she couldn’t quite tell.

“I’d like to know,” she finally insisted, “Venable has only told us so much and we’re forbidden from leaving the premise… even with hazmat suits.”

Langdon nodded. He expected as much from the two women — Venable and Em. Pausing from the game, he gave her his full attention — turning in his chair and resting his elbows on the armrest closer to her.

“The trees are barren and everything is covered in thick green fog,” he said, slow and methodical as if he were trying to recall every last detail, “the animals have gone rabid or are in the very late stages of cancer. You cannot see the sun in the sky… an eternal night.”

“What about the people?”

“Killing each other for food or simply out of paranoia. Cancer and tumors are the norm for most.”

Her arms had come to brace themselves on the arms of her chair, knuckles white and jaw clenched. She stared into the fire but did not see it, darkness clouding her vision as she was sent back into that first day in the outpost. How many of those messages weren’t their last? How many survived only to face torment? How many had she abandoned in the wastelands?

“The children?” she forced herself to ask, forcing herself to look at him. His eyes widened every slightly before he glanced away, conflicted. She watched his chest rise and fall, his eyes close momentarily as he centered himself before speaking.

“On the way here, I came across a woman,” He told her, “A young mother, with two children. They were some of the unlucky ones who were far from the blast radius to survive the fireball, but… not the radiation.”

Em’s mouth opened every slightly in shock as she realized he was crying, a single tear breaking free and racing down his cheek.

He held his hand up, the other hovering over it and tracing up his arm as he continued to recall the incident before resting at his chest, “they were covered in tumors — sores. Their lungs were burned from the toxic air.”

With a clench of his fists, he fell back in his chair and refused to meet her eye, “After a few moments I realized that the child she was carrying in her arms was dead. She was begging for us to murder her other child out of mercy… she didn’t have the strength to do it herself.”

Em didn’t even realize she was crying until he turned to her. She stiffened as he reached out a hand to her cheek, cupping it and brushing away the tear gently with his thumb.

“Did you?” she asked, voice hardly above a whisper and his hand still on her cheek.

Blue eyes refused to look away from her, “Did I what?”

“Have mercy.”

An emotion she had never seen on him before tainted his features. It made his face fall, his eyes shine in a way that wasn’t pleasant and his lips part every slightly. His hand pulled back from hers and he turned away from her, closed himself off.

“No,” he finally answered, “I couldn’t bring myself to.”

Langdon felt regret… shame.

“I doubt anyone could.”

“Why do you cry for them?” he asked.

“I have nieces and nephews,” she said, “friends and—”

A frog sat in her throat keeping her from speaking. She waited a few moments before clearing her throat and drying her eyes, forcing the unpleasant emotion back from whence it came. After a few more breaths of unprompted tears, she spoke again.

“I’m sorry for bringing up a depressing topic.”

“Knowledge is power,” he noted, “and the desire of power is in our nature.”

Langdon cleared his throat as well before turning back to the game. It seemed both of them were content to pretend the last few moments be forgotten… for now, at the very least.

“What would you do to survive?” he asked her, waiting for her to make a move.

She sighed rather loudly. Naturally, he was using interview questions to take back the power he had relinquished for but a moment. Still made her head feel light like she had whiplash.

“What would I want to do?” she asked, moving a piece without much thought. Langdon was keen to take advantage, quickly moving his piece to take over it. “Or what I would actually do?”

He scoffed, “is there a difference?”

“Of course. I’d like to think I’d preserve some of my humanity — morality and the like.”

“But in reality?”

Em opened her mouth and closed it again. What would she do? So far she had certainly become more… adventurous wasn’t quite the right word. Admitting that, however, would be giving him and, in turn, The Cooperative more information than she was willing to part with.

“I don’t know,” she said, “It’s hard to know what you’d do until you are forced to take action.”

“You like to skirt around questions,” he notes, “despite my warning against hedging.”

“You want honest answers,” she reminded, “that required introspection — especially with these questions. It’s rarely linear.”

“How do you react to conflict?” he asked, sounding like he was reading from a list. Em wouldn’t be surprised if he had all the questions memorized at this point.

“What kind of conflict?”

He sighed, trying to be annoyed but failing as a hint of a smile let itself be known, “Your answers tend towards the circumstantial.”

“C’est la vie,” Em said with a shrug, moving a piece and watching Langdon frown as she captured one of his kings.

“It certainly keeps at least one of these conversations interesting.”

Em gave him a look, “is this a conversation?”

“We’re communicating, are we not?”

“You’re asking questions and I’m talking about myself for…”

She glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, “… an hour. Not much of a conversation.”

“Therapists would disagree.”

“You’re my therapist now?

He didn’t look at her, but she could see him smirk, “…of a sort.”

The brunette leaned forward in her chair, regarding him for a moment, “Then what do you see?”

Langdon’s head quirked to the side as he eyed her, “I see a woman who hides her insecurities behind bold and intelligent words… a philosopher without students.”

Em could only laugh, sparing him an amused but unbelieving look, “You give me far too much credit.”

“My records indicate you were quite introverted and withdrawn before,” he noted, “What changed?

“When you stare at death he does not care what mask you ware,” she told him, voice distant as if it was not her own, “so why bother with pretenses and polite society?”

“Why, indeed?”

They finished the game, coming to an impasse with two kings following each other across the board. Langdon rose from his chair and wandered over to the pitcher of water from before.

“You care for some?” he asked.

“Yes, please.”

He turned to her with a Cheshire grin, “what happened to polite society?”

“Born in the south, remember? We mind our P’s and Q’s and say ‘bless your heart’ instead of ‘go to hell.’”

“I hear it’s quite pleasant this time of year,” he said, turning with two glasses of water.

“Hocus Pocus,” she noted.

“A staple in my house during Halloween,” he noted, a sad smile coming to his lips.

She rose and took a step forward as he approached her, hand extended to take the glass from his hands. A thankful smile turned tense as too much pressure was placed on her bad leg. After sitting for so long, she had forgotten it was there. She leaned back on her good leg and regulated her expression.

Langdon didn’t seem to notice and she pulled back and carefully lowered herself into the chair, waiting for him to move and do the same. Placing the glass on the table beside her, she turned to make a comment about a third and final match only to find him crouched on the ground.

Red coated his fingers, a small puddle on the ground the size of a silver dollar. One of her stitches must have torn. Of all the timing…

“You’re hurt,” he noted, looking up to her, “where?”

“Oh,” she tried to write off, “it’s embarrassing, but I think that’s— “

His eyes were deadly as he stood and stepped towards her, a growl in his throat, “we agreed not to lie.”

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Em lifted up her skirt to reveal the comically small injury that sat three inches above her knee. As she feared, unbinding the bandages revealed the stitching had come undone.

He kneeled down in front of her, hand hovering over the wound. “What happened?”

She tied the bandages around it, resolving to cauterize it later as she knotted the ribbon extra tightly around her leg. Langdon retreated as she threw her skirts over it once more, obviously not wanting to let the incident rest or for her to leave his office without treatment.

“A fucked up side-effect of conditioning.”

Langdon sighed, “this is why I said—”

“I’d be better off acting on my anger?” she snipped, “oh, yes, I remember. You were quite insistent on that point.”

Em averted her eyes, staring past him and into the fire with venom. From the corner of her eye, she could see Langdon sigh, shoulders falling ever slightly.

Her shoulders tensed as she felt a hand upon them, finally turning towards Langdon as she realized he refused to pull away. He wanted to speak, she could tell that from the way his lips pressed together. Why was he speechless? Langdon had a response for everything.

Green eyes couldn’t look away from him— his knitted brow and the frown that marred his features. His hand rose to her cheek and all she could feel was her heart beating in her ears as the heat rising up her neck. His thumb ghosted under her eyes, over the tired circles where tears had been not even thirty minutes before.

This strange and witty woman… why did she have such an effect on him?

Hands curled around the back of her neck as he moved her hair from around her face. The pieces she had pinned back had begun to fall from their confines.

His fingers pulled her forward, thumb hovering under her chin. She felt like she was under a spell, unable to move. Did she want to move? All she could feel was her heart trying to force its way through her chest.

She smelled sweet— lavender and earth overwhelming him in the best way. His eyes flickered between her mouth and her eyes, his neck craning to the side as he felt her breath on his face.

Then, she suddenly tensed. Breaking free of the spell, she pulled back— jumping off the chair and past him to the door. She had let her guard down and… she didn’t know what to feel. The hammering in her heart told her to run, but—

“I’m leaving,” She whispered.

Langdon took a step towards her, a hand outreached. He moved as if he were approaching a wounded animal, slow and tentative.

“The interview isn’t over,” he said, hand coming gently around her wrist.

“Yes,” She growled, realizing something that made her steel herself against him and tear her hand from his grasp, “it is.”

“This could forfeit your place—” he began, cursing himself as he realized how he sounded.

“So be it. I don’t care.”

She tried to open the door and his hand went instinctively to keep it from opening. He needed her to understand. He needed—

“I’m not here to hurt you,” He all but pleaded, “take a seat.”

“…You’re right—” she finally said after a moment. His grip on the door loosened and a smile of relief came to his face, tenseness leaving his body.

The door slammed into his head as she threw it open. With a grunt of pain, he fell back and gripped at his head. When he looked up a satisfied smirk was on her face, the door blocking her body from him like a shield.

“— My anger is best used outward instead of inward.” She said, disappearing back into the hall. By the time he stumbled to the door and threw it open once more she was gone… like she had never been there in the first place.

The thought of that terrified him.

                                       ---------------------------------------

Em was… well, she wanted to pace, but the newly cauterized wound on her leg would have protested too much. So there she was, seething on her bed. Her hands dug into the comforter, pretending it was someone’s throat.

At least this time she had been sure to put away her knife first. Then again, the now blistering skin took care of any destructive and impulsive urges she may have.

She had been blind, the desire for having her life mean something clouding the reality of logic and fact. Langdon wanted her to depend on him. He wanted her to think she was special. Em wasn’t. She was an average person with a tragic childhood. A dime a dozen case.

Coco probably got the same treatment. They were both single and desperate to survive, desperate to be wanted. Langdon weaponized sex.

… But that wasn’t what it was. Not to Em, at least. It was vulnerability, understanding, trusting someone with—

He was playing with their emotions. All their emotions. Part of her was willing to be strung along. Was certainly an easier route.

With a sigh, she hung her head in her hands. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore. To live or not to live… wasn’t that the fucking question? She was supposed to graduate this year, get a shitty job with shitty pay, and live in a shitty apartment. It’s why she had sacrificed so much, stayed in a less than happy place in the hopes that one day—  

A knock at the door pulled her from the spiral. Straightening her back and clearing away her misty eyes, Em turned to the door.

“It’s unlocked,” she informed the person on the other side.

“That’s new.”

Emily’s head pocked through the door before she slipped inside, closing the door behind her after checking her six, “You didn’t come to finish our game.”

The bed dipped as she took a seat next to the brunette. Her worry was transparent on her face, lip quirking to the side and eyes focused on Em’s face as she waited for the woman to say something. “We were worried.”

Em could only shake her head, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Though her eyes were focused on the floor, she could feel Emily’s hands cover her own. A familiar squeeze curling around her hand.

“We’ll make it through this,” Emily assured. It did little to convince Em. No matter what the brunette did, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being on the wrong path.

“And then what?” she couldn’t help but ask, teeth gnashing with every word, “we leave here and play the game somewhere else in some mysterious sanctuary or play Mad Max as we slowly die from cancer?”

For once, Emily didn’t have a retort.

“I can’t live like that anymore!” Em hissed, finally turning towards her companion, “My whole life I’ve lived one day to the next just to say I made it another day. I can’t! I— “

Her companion could only stare at her friend, mouth open but no words. What could she say? Emily hadn’t much thought about what would happen next, the cost of living. It was quite like what doctors faced, wasn’t it? Determining whether quality of life justified the means to the end. What was the future when they faced the end of the world?

Em shook her head, “I just can’t.”

[mandadoration]

hound - vii.

summary: You head to Canto Bight to gather more information about a bounty of yours when you’re ambushed and drugged. Your relationship with Mando is ever confusing.  

word count: 3, 200

pairing: mandalorian x mandalorian!reader

Warnings: non-consensual drug use, swearing, sexually suggestive content, canon-typical violence

a/n: I know I said I wouldn’t update this until next week... But are you complaining? If you follow this story on AO3, you will see that I predict that there will be 14 chapters total!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii  

Read this on AO3

You vaguely remember Mando saying that Canto Bight was nice this time of year, back when you were bleeding all over the floor of the Razor Crest and half delirious. As you fly in, the bright lights of the city almost make your head hurt. You’ve been here once a long time ago, you remember, for an emergency landing that had cost you an arm and a leg just so that you could leave your rented ship overnight. 

It’s a bit of a rough landing about a mile or so away from the city, landing somewhere in an unlit, grassy area, scaring some fathiers away. You head to the back to suit up, Mando trailing after you. 

“We’re looking for someone by the name of Desdre,” he informs. “He was a part of the same intergalactic gang as the bounty. He says he’ll tell us where Jahjon is in exchange for our word that we won’t turn him in.” You tilt your head. It seems suspicious that he was willing to give such precious information in return for safety. There’s no doubt the same thought has crossed his mind. 

“Will we?” you ask. Mando scoffs and slings his rifle over his shoulder and tucks ammo away. 

“We’ll see,” he says curtly, and leaves the ship. You tuck in a few more medshots into your vambrace and check the fuel for your flamethrower and follow him like a shadow. 

--

You don’t feel underdressed, exactly, but in the glitz and glamour of the glitter and expensive fabrics, you and Mando stick out like a sore thumb with your scratched up beskar and arsenal. If Mando is affected by the stares and whispers that follow you, he doesn’t show it. He goes through the alleyways and backstreets of Canto Bight, past the drugged-out spice users and teens using deathsticks, past the couples and trios and straight up orgies on the streets. You’re not quite sure where he’s going, but you stick close to him, warily watching the rooftops. Eventually, he stops at an ornate wooden door, and knocks three times. 

“Who is it?” a singsongy voice calls out. The door swings open to reveal a very scantily dressed man, gold paint rimming his dark eyes, face flushed from drinking and eyes red from spice. He pushes his curly hair up and out of his face, the bangles on his wrist jingling, eyeing you and Mando up and down hungrily. “Oh hello there,” he purrs, and practically lounges against the doorframe. “Mandalorians? What brings you here to my humble abode?” You shift your eyes away from his searching gaze to look beyond him and into the room. Moans and giggles drift into the open air. Did Mando just bring you to drug den?

“We’re looking for Desdre,” Mando answers. “Urgent business.” The man raises a carefully plucked eyebrow and squints his eyes. 

“Like what?” he questions. There are hickies and bruises lining his throat.

“None of your business, that’s for sure,” Mando says, and you think that the man is about to refuse you entry, but his face breaks into a charming smile and motions for you two to come in. 

“Be my guest,” he drawls. He doesn’t move from his position, and forces you and Mando to brush past him, and you grit your teeth as you feel hands feel you up. Judging by the sudden tense shoulders, the same has happened to Mando. The man’s voice leans in close and you do your best to try not flinch from the sudden wave of perfume and musk. His grip on your wrist is hot. “If you and your friend ever decide to come back, not on business, just ask for Pretre, hm?” he whispers, voice low and wanton. You quickly pull yourself away from him, ignoring how he laughs, and follow Mando to the back. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Mando!” his voice calls out after you. 

The further back into the room you go, the less clothes there are, and the more blissed out the people look. Eventually, you come to an area of the room blocked off by velveteen curtains. You push through it, and wince.

You didn’t think that people wore those gold metal bikinis willingly. 

Still, it’s better than nothing, and your gaze settles on a man, sitting in the center of the pile of blankets and soft pillows, covered by a thin robe, pulling his face from the neck of an attractive Twi’lek whose hands are tangled in his dark hair, and grinning when he sees you and Mando. A few men and women peel themselves off of the floor to prowl around you. It’s hazy in here from smoke and stifling from all the bodies. The lights from outside are barely trickling in, heavy curtains on every window, and your eyes strain to adjust.

“Desdre,” Mando says. You scowl under your helmet as you grab the wrist of someone who was feeling up your leg. 

“Mando!” Desdre crows. He flourishes his arm out. “Come sit! You and your friend- please, relax.” Neither of you move, and Desdre at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Well, can I offer you something to drink? Some spice? Or a girl?” he offers, waggling his eyebrows. 

“We’re not here to waste time,” Mando says. Desdre sighs and gets up, soothing the girls that whine and ruffling the hair of a boy that kisses his calf as he moves to stand in front of you and Mando, pipe dangling in his fingers.

“Always business, Mando, and no play,” he complains in a lilting accent. “Who’s your friend?” He trails a finger up your armor before tapping it a couple of times. “Another Mandalorian?” He takes a deep drag from his pipe and blows sickly sweet smoke in your face. Although your helmet filters out most of it, the smell still makes your head ring. 

“Yes.”

“Hm, interesting,” he hums. He stares intensely at you. 

“Jahjon. You said know where he is?” Mando asks. Desdre nods, and goes back to join his harem, leaning back languidly as they crawl over him again. He teasingly smacks the rear of someone you can’t quite see.

“I do, my friend,” he says. “But remember what I asked for? My safety guaranteed for information.” At that, more people slip in the room past the dividing curtains. You count in your head. There’s seven people in here now, all looking at you like you’re their next meal. 

“You have our word,” Mando says, but Desdre clicks his tongue and shakes his head. 

“I need to hear it from both of you,” he orders, his piercing gaze looking straight at you. You clench your jaw, and you want to smack the smug grin from his face. “I’ve heard about you, you know? The Dog? Loyal to your master and hunting together. I’ve heard you’re ruthless in the field.” All the heads in the room have turned to look at you in unison, and you would’ve found it unsettling if there wasn’t a cold weight settling in your stomach. “Especially how that poor Gran came back in pieces, body mangled like he’d been bashed in.” He’s playing you, you know it, and you shouldn’t let it affect you, but your temper is uncharacteristically short. “Your bite really is worse than your bark, huh? I wonder what you’re like in bed. If you fuck as brutally as you kill.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Mando finally says frustratedly. He steps forward. “If you won’t help us--”

“You have my word,” you grit out, interrupting Mando. You hate this. You hate how you’ve become notorious and people have started assuming, more bold and daring, pushing your buttons and bending you, expecting you to break. You hate that people have started twisting the facts about you to make you more vicious, more blood-thirsty and unforgiving when that’s not anywhere remotely close to the truth. You don’t know how it’s come to this. You haven’t really even done anything remotely interesting. As far as you’re concerned, you’re nobody. A Mandalore without a clan who doesn’t even know why there are people so curious about you. You think the world is against you, using your moment of weakness where your nightmares have been gnawing at you to try and knock you down, degrading you down to a feral animal. You want to prove them wrong. You’ve bled for Mando to know you're human, and you really don’t want to bleed again.

“And so she speaks,” Desdre says, looking pleasantly surprised, and Mando glances at you. “Mando finally took the muzzle off you?”

But you decide to play the part of that mangy mutt, and bare your teeth.

You don't know what it is that made you do it, what possessed you to make such a rash decision, but you pull the blaster from your holster and point it at Desdre. 

“Jahjon. Where is he?” you demand, voice low and dangerous. The people flocking on either side of Desdre scramble away. 

“Dog,” Mando hisses. “Put that down.” You ignore him and stalk closer, your blaster still carefully trained. Desdre doesn’t even look fazed. He looks at you curiously. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Something’s wrong. Your limbs feel too heavy and the room is spinning. It’s too bright in here, even in low-light. 

“Answer me,” you bark. Your grip wavers, and Desdre smiles. 

“I don’t know.” 

“What?”

Mando walks up to stand close to you and tries to pull your arm back, but you wrench it out his grip, and accidentally fire into the ceiling. 

The room descends into chaos. 

Desdre stumbles back, and his little harem get up, looking alert, drawing their own weapons, and as more people flood into the room, surrounding you, you know what this is. 

Desdre never had the intentions to tell you anything. 

And this was an ambush. 

You fire your blaster a few more times, hitting Desdre in the leg and another shot going through the chest of a half-naked humanoid that you can barely make out from your blurred vision before it’s knocked out of your hand. You lash out, your fist catching the jaw of some other poor soul, sending them flying back and taking two more down with them. Your vambrace shoots out a medshot, knocking the Twi’lek he was kissing before out, and your grappling line tangles around their ankle. Yanking on it, another harem girl stumbles over them. 

A staff knocks you over the head, increasing the ringing that’s building up in your ears. You whip around to see Mando shoot them with his own blaster, their body falling limp at your feet. He’s got blood smeared on his chestplate as he fights around the small room. It’s too cramped and too risky to use his amban rifle, but overall, most of the attackers are already dead or knocked out, too drugged up and sluggish to take down two Mandalorians. A tap on your shoulder distracts you. You turn around, fists raised, but a sharp pain twinges in your neck. It’s Pretre, and the gold paint in around his eyes sparkles as you raise a hand and pull out a syringe. Your chest feels tight as you drop it. It shatters on the ground, red liquid seeping out and soaking into the carpet. 

“I forgot that your helmet filters,” he says. Pretre’s voice sounds slow and deep as the room starts to tilt. “I was wondering why it took so long for this to happen. Luckily I had this. My brother is too incompetent. Ah, well, hindsight, you know?” A smile plays on his lips, and you wonder why you hadn’t seen the resemblance before. A wave of pleasure rides over you, but then it starts dragging you down, making your eyelids heavy.

“You… what?” you ask stupidly. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and fire is dancing across your skin. “What did you…?” Everything’s muffled. He puts a hand on your chest and gives the gentlest of pushes, but it topples you over as you collapse on the ground. He stands over you, a pitying smile on his face, showing the barest of white teeth. You vaguely register Mando’s voice calling out to you, but it’s cut off and there’s more blaster fire. 

“I do hope I didn’t give you too much,” Pretre sighs. He bends down and crouches next to you, running a single finger down the length of your helmet, dragging a finger across your neck, nails digging in. “Oh dear. Maybe just a smidge too much… Just ride it out, and you’ll be fine.” He hooks a finger under your helmet, and you cry out weakly, but you’re arms are too heavy and your mind is too light to stop him. Just as he finds the button to release your helmet, something catches his attention. His head snaps up and he pulls away. “Next time,” he promises, “and my offer still stands.” He leaves you on the floor, and your vision is swimming, the ceiling and tapestries on the wall swirling together as you feel sweat dripping down your neck. Whatever Pretre put in you was making you burn up and feel sickly. You hear panting next to your ear. You turn your head--

-- and there’s a strill snarling in your face. 

You reel back, away from its dripping jowls as it pads closer to you. It bays at your sudden reaction, and more hounds appear, surrounding you as you gasp in shallow breaths and scramble away, tripping over bodies and pillows in your effort to get away. They follow you, eyes red and glowing as they bare their sharp teeth at you. Their claws are tearing up the carpet underneath them. The strills come closer and closer, but your back is already up against the wall, and your blaster is too far out of your reach. The one in the front, the biggest and angriest of the pack, goes right to your face, nose touching your helmet, and you close your eyes and curl into yourself as howling echoes in your ears. 

“Dog!” 

Your head snaps up. The hounds are gone, and Mando is hovering over you. He holds out your blaster for you to take. 

“We have to go,” he says, out of breath as he looks around. “That stupid kid who met us at the door- he took Desdre and left. We have to leave before more come.” You stare at him blankly. Where had the dogs gone? When you look, the carpet in front of you is intact and whole, and there’s no slobber. You slowly reach up to take the blaster, holding it in your hand. You pull yourself up, head swiveling as the howling picks up again. 

“Did you hear that?” you choke out. You wave the blaster wildly as you spin to try and find the source. 

“Hey, calm down--” You jerk back as his hand rests on your shoulder. His voice is loud and booming in your ears. Spots dance in your vision as Mando grabs your hand and tugs you along, through the curtains, through the now-empty room, and into the alley ways of Canto Bight. The lights are bright and sends piercing pains up your head as you stumble along. 

“Mando,” you gasp out. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your feet under you. You think you hear dogs running behind you, but every glance back comes up empty. 

“What?” he grunts, pulling you into another winding backstreet. Bile rises up in your throat with each yank. 

“Mando,” you call out again. There are phantom hands against your throat and you can’t breathe. “Mando.” He finally stops and pulls you into an alcove. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he hisses, and then he takes in you heaving shoulders, your choked out pleas, and hold your head in his hands. He calls your name, your real name, soft and pleading, and that’s when it peaks. 

You faintly register how your eyes roll to the back of your head and you collapse like a puppet with its strings cut, Mando just barely managing to catch you before you can hit your head. But his hands add on to your discomfort as it feels like there are thousands upon thousands of hand pulling, tugging, and scratching you, around your throat and holding your arms and legs down. A panic swells in you and you struggle to get away and push the hands off you. It’s smothering, the suffocation in your lungs and your head making you dizzy. It feels like they’re trying to pry your helmet off, but as you go through the streets of Canto Bight, jostling in someone’s arms, you realize it feels like they’re trying to rip your head from your shoulders and tear you limb from limb.

You think you hear screaming, and as more and more things come into focus, you realize it’s you. You shoot up from your cot, gasping and Mando shushes you and calms you down. You flail around, trying to make sense of things. 

You can breath, finally, as the recycled air of the Razor Crest buzzes over you. And you realize it’s light outside. 

“How long--”

“Just a day,” Mando answers, and he sounds exhausted. You wonder if he stayed up to make sure you were okay. “What happened?”

“Drugged,” you say. “I… I don’t know what it was.”

“You were freaking out,” he starts, “horribly. You were screaming and trying to claw your own skin off, talking about dogs and strills.” He eyes you warily, taking in your hunched stance and bouncing knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

And although you know you should, that those hallucinations are fresh and feels as real as memories, the words die in your throat as you clam up. “I can’t,” you admit. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just--” Mando abruptly stands up. 

“It’s fine,” he says, but his tone is short and you can tell he’s irritated. “I’ve located the last of the bounties. We’ll be there in a few hours.” He leaves to go back up the cockpit and you tamp down the urge to bang your head against the wall. The emotional stalemate is driving you up the wall. You can’t understand why Mando is upset you can’t confide in him when he himself is the most closed off person you’ve ever met. If anything, you’ve given him more than he has. After a moment, you go meet up with him. 

You see a red liquid shimmering in a vial in his pocket. He follows your gaze to see what you’re staring at, and he pulls it out and hands it to you. “Mnemiotic drug,” he says. “Imps used it all the time. That’s what they gave you. Modified, but the base is the same. Hallucinations, raised body temperature, heightened aggression, increased sensitivity. Brain damage in extreme cases.”

“What happened to Pretre and Desdre?” you ask him. He doesn’t need to describe the effects if you’ve lived through them. 

“They got what they deserved,” he says, and leaves it at that. 

--

Hound Tag List: @knockbeforeyouspeak​​ @gothtechie​ @killtherandomness​

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 15

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

The chime of the doorbell startles him awake; eyes snapping open, brain foggy and disoriented as it tries to figure out just what the noise was. The moment both the baby and Declan had started yawning and fussing, he’d laid down with them in the living room; Addie on his chest, his son tucked securely between him and the back of the couch. He’s certain he’d drifted off before either of them had; a hand placed protectively on Addie’s back; an arm wrapped his son. Lulled to sleep by the warmth of their bodies and the sound of their soft, steady breathing. The house quiet and peaceful. The three oldest at school, Esme out with her brother, and nothing but the sound of the ocean and the cool, steady breeze that filters through the windows. 

 The noise becomes more insistent, pausing momentarily before into one long, incessant tone. At first he reaches for his cell phone that rests on the coffee table, brain still attempting to straighten itself out and register exactly what the sound is, where it’s coming from, where he is, and even what day it is. He’d gone back on the Valium that morning as soon as the kids got on the bus, and it hit him almost immediately; making him drowsy and lightheaded, causing him to sweat profusely and develop a pounding headache. Now he feels as if his senses are impaired; sounds muffled as if he’s trying to hear underwater, his vision blurry.   And in a near euphoric state he thinks about how he never even knew they had a doorbell; or at least he didn’t know what it sounded like.  No one’s ever used it in the past six months that they’d been living there; delivery drivers and the postal carrier all resorting to knocking or leaving things on the chair by the front door; spurred on to do so by a handwritten letter Esme had taped to the mailbox that stated if anyone dared waked the baby or bothered her while feeding, there’d be ‘hell to pay’. 

 It becomes apparent that whoever is at the door isn’t going away, and he attempts to slip off the couch without waking either of the kids. Declan the biggest obstacle with his sweaty body and damp hair pressed tightly against him.  And he manages to slide his arm out from underneath the sleeping toddler, who only gives a loud, content sigh and rolls over, pressing his face into the cushions.  Then he stands, placing Addie in the portable playpen in the middle of the room and using a foot to push the coffee table out of the way in case Declan rolls over and falls off the couch. The last he needs is having to haul two kids to the hospital for a concussion or stitches. Or both.  

 As he heads for the door, he briefly considers grabbing some clothes and throwing them on; it would really set off the religious zealots that often travelled door to door if he was to answer in nothing but a pair of low slung boardshorts, body covered in a myriad of tattoos and scars. He’d already gone to the door once in the same fashion: a group startled and slightly scared little old ladies collecting things for a church food drive. But when he hears Addie begin to fuss, he decides against clothes, only caring about wanting to get the goddamn noise to stop. 

 When he finally answers, the blond on the other side of the door opens her mouth to speak, then abruptly stops; clamping her lips shut as her eyes widen and she slowly looks him up and down.  Normally he’d be self-conscious; that the once over is in nothing more than a mixture of shock and concern due to the number of scars that mar his body.  He’d never given a shit before; until his brain decided to turn against him and try and make his life a living hell. But there’s no curiosity or concern regarding his battle wounds; this once over was one of admiration. And he can’t stop the smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

 “Who are you?” Tyler asks, checking the driveway for any unfamiliar cars, then glancing towards the woods and then down the road, checking to see if she was alone or if there was anyone lying in wait. 

  It’s a hell of a way to live; thinking everyone is the enemy.  But he’s stepped on a lot of toes and made a lot of enemies. And while you may physically leave the job, you’re never fully clear of it. Not until you die. Then and only then is your slate wiped clean. 

 “Never mind that,” she replies. “Who are YOU? The pool boy?” 

 He frowns. “What?” 

 “Well dressed like that. Looking like...that. I just assumed that maybe...” 

 “I live here,” Tyler informs her. 

 “With Esme and the husband?” 

 “I am the husband.” 

 “You?” she gives a started laugh. “You’re the husband?” 

 “For the last six and a half years.” 

 “Okay...hold up,” she chews pensively on her bottom lip, head cocked to the side as she regards him. “You’re Esme’s husband?” 

 “Am I not speaking English? I just said I was.” 

 “She told me her husband is retired.” 

 “Yeah? I am. And?” 

 “So I’m sure you can understand why this...why you...are a bit of a surprise. I was expecting someone that actually looks retired.  Someone a lot older. And someone not as...” she once more looks him over from head to toe. “...well, not so you.” 

 “Look,” he rakes his fingers through his messy hair and scratches at the back of his head. “Not to sound like a total dick...” 

 “Too late.” 

 “...but who the hell are you? And why are you on my doorstep?” 

 “I’m Salena.” 

 “The new neighbor.” 

 “The one and only,” she confirms, and holds out a hand. “And you’re Tyler.” 

 He nods, hesitating at first, then shaking the hand offered to him. “Why are you here?” 

 “I was hoping to see Esme. I come bearing gifts,” she holds up a reusable shopping bag. “I told her last night when we were texting that I made a killer Dorito taco salad that she needed to try and that I make some up. Enough for all of you. Is she home?” 

 “She’s out with her brother.” 

 “The cute firefighter,” she states. 

 Tyler shrugs. “If you say he’s cute I’ll take your word for it, I guess.” 

 “I had messaged her saying I was going to pop by, but I never heard back. So, I’d thought I’d just run over and see what’s up.” 

 “I’m honestly so confused right now. I just woke up and my brain isn’t functioning properly yet. How you even know my wife?” 

 “We’ve been hanging out. Since we met the other days when I was moving the last of my stuff. She was taking the two littlest ones for a walk and Declan saw my dog and got away from her...” 

 “Wait. You know Declan too?”  It was the one that he absolutely hated; Esme taking it upon herself to allow strangers around his kids. She’s too trusting; too quick to see the good in everyone yet not even stopping to look for the bad. He doesn’t trust anyone. Aside from her.  And regardless of what she thinks of how paranoid she thinks he’s is; everyone is a possible threat. 

 “He’s my absolute favorite. He’s just such a little charmer. That smile and those eyes? I can see where he gets them. The eyes. Not the smile because you haven’t cracked one once since you answered the door. You do smile right?” 

 “Look, I had a rough night. I barely slept. You woke me up.  I don’t even know what day it is right now, to be honest.” 

 “It’s Friday,” she informs him. “I’m the one that watched Declan yesterday. So Esme could have said time to herself. Well she had the baby.  I just thought maybe she needed a break. That’s a lot to handle. Five kids.” 

 He tries hard to hide the anger that seeps into his voice. “You watched my kid?” 

 Salena nods. 

 “Yet I don’t even know who you are. You watched my kid, yet this is the first time we’ve met. And you’ve been hanging out with my wife?” 

 “Yeah, you know. Lunch. Girl talk. Stuff like that. She didn’t tell you? It must have just slipped her mind. I know she has a lot going on. Do you know when she’ll be back?” 

 Tyler shakes his head. 

 “Is it okay if I wait here for her or...” 

 He arches an eyebrow. “Here?” 

 “Where else?” 

 “I don’t usually let women into the house when my wife’s not home. That’s how rumors and shit start and I don’t need any more drama in my life. So I don’t think that’s a good idea. And I’m kinda busy with the little ones so...” 

 “I could help,” Salena offers 

 “I don’t need help. I’m not a rookie. And there’s nothing down there for you,” he informs her, when her eyes wander below his waist. “So if you could just...I don’t know...stop.” 

 A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. “Do you always walk around in no underwear?” 

 “You always question what people do in their own house?” Tyler counters. 

 “Touche.” 

 “If you weren’t looking down there so much and so closely, you wouldn’t even know I wasn’t wearing any.” 

 “Oh, I’d know,” she boldly responds. “That’s kind of hard not to notice.” 

 “Is there a reason you’re here or...” 

 “Like I said, I’m here to see Esme.” 

 “And like I said, she’s not home. You’ll have to come back. Or call her. Or text. I dunno.  But I’ve got little ones in the next room, so...” 

 “Yes! Sorry! I won’t keep you any longer!” She offers the shopping bag and he reluctantly takes it.  “I just...wow...you are definitely NOT what I was expecting. At all. Wow. Okay, I’m gonna go. If I don’t hear from Esme, will you let her know I came by?” 

 “How am I going to know if you didn’t get in touch with her?” he asks, as he steps out onto the front porch, quickly checking the mail before once against surveying the road and for any sign of remotely suspicious activity along the tree line. 

 “That!” she points at him, as she walks backwards down the front walk, bumping into one of the recycling bins that sit at the curb, giving it an awkward apology and then giggling in embarrassment. “Is a very good point! I’m going to go now. I just...wow...totally not what I thought you were going to look like. And now I’m rambling and making a total fool out myself.” 

 “Just a bit,” Tyler agrees. 

  “Oh! She calls to him before he can step inside. “Weird question, I know. But did someone come to your door last night? Around two am? Because someone showed up at my place and knocked for like ten straight minutes.” 

 “That would have been my very drunk brother in law. I think he was looking for a hook up.” 

 “Well if that’s the case, tell him to come to the back door next time. I’ll answer for sure then.” 

 Tyler just smirks and shakes his head, both amused and annoyed by her honesty, and then closes the door behind him. 

 *** 

 “Maybe we can try this again,” Kyle says, as they settle into a table on the Sovereign's outdoor patio. “Maybe we can make it through the meal without fighting.” 

 “Technically we didn’t start fighting until after dinner,” Esme points out. 

 “And technically you were the only one causing a scene, so...” 

 “Fair enough,” she surrenders, and places her hobo style purse and her lone shopping back on the ground, cell phone on the tabletop. “This isn’t a set-up is it? I’m not going to get five minutes into lunch and Nik will show up?” 

 “Nik’s gone.” 

 Esme arches an eyebrow. 

 “Not gone, gone. So don’t get your hopes up. She got a call last night. About a job in Venezuela. Needed to be there within a few hours or all hell was going to break loose.” 

 “Nature of the beast. You get used to those phone calls, unfortunately.” 

 “I thought maybe she’d slow down a little after we got engaged and started planning a wedding,” Kyle says. “I thought maybe that was enough to keep her busy and occupied, but...” he shrugs, and flips open his menu. 

 “Nik doesn’t do the job because she needs to keep busy or occupied. She does the job because she IS the job. She’s always been hard core about it. Completely devoted. Not to mention, she’s the boss. It’s her own company. And she has a lot of people relying on her to keep things running smoothly and to keep them safe. It’s a lot of pressure. A lot of stress. I wouldn’t to do it. Run the show.” 

 Kyle smirks. “Did you actually just pay Nik a compliment in some weird, back hand way?” 

 “I have nothing against job Nik.  I actually admire THAT Nik. It’s the other Nik I can't stand. The one that spent six and a half years trying to destroy my marriage. And...” she holds up her hand in a plea for silence when Kyle opens his mouth to speak. “...I know Tyler and I aren’t perfect. That things have never been conventional or normal between us. But that’s the way we are. And that doesn’t give her a right or a reason to try and bang my husband. So don’t even try to defend that.” 

 “I agree that that part is a little messed up.” 

 “You think?” Esme rummages through her purse for the bottle of recently purchased prescription meds. The doctor immediately writing out the order when she couldn’t get through the first thirty seconds of describing how she was feeling without bursting into tears. 

 “So you get used to it?” Kyle asked. 

 “What? Some trifling bitch trying to wreck your marriage?” She pops one of the pills into her mouth and swallows it down with ice water. “No. You don’t.” 

 “Not that. The job. The phone calls. Them leaving at a moment’s notice. Now what you’re doing or talking about at the time. You do get it used to it, right?” 

 “I don’t know if you get used to it. But you learn to tolerate it. I’ve had phone calls come in at some pretty inopportune times, let me tell you.” 

 “How inopportune?” 

 “Let’s just say, Nik and her phone calls are the epitome of cock blocking.” 

 Kyle nearly spits a mouthful of water across the table. 

 “Right?” Esme laughs. Talk about bad timing! But in Tyler’s defense, he did always finish the job at hand. So...” 

 “Okay, that is too much information. I don’t think about you two...you know...finishing.” 

 “Kyle, despite what you think, I’d have sex more than five times. I just don’t have it to procreate, you know. It happens to be a lot of fun.” 

 “I do not what to think about those things when it comes to my little sister, okay? I know you’re a wife and a mother and all of that, but you’re still my kid sister. I still want to beat the hell out of any guy that touches you.” 

 She laughs and sips her water. “I’d love to see you try.” 

 “And totally get my ass handed to me? No thanks.” 

 She grins. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you admit defeat.” 

 “I’m not stupid,” he chuckles. “This is Tyler we’re talking about. I’ve heard about the shit he’s done. What he’s capable of. And he’s totally capable of killing me with his bare hands.” 

 Esme nods in agreement. 

 “Aren’t you scared? You know what he can do. You know the things he’s done. Aren’t you even a little bit afraid? Of him?” 

 She shakes her head. “I’ve never been afraid of him. Ever. And I’ve seen his temper at its worst. He’d never hurt me. Or the kids. I have no reason to be scared of him.” 

 “But what if he snaps on day? What if everything that’s going on his brain just becomes too much and it gives way? What...” 

 “Tyler would never...ever...do anything to hurt me. I’m not scared of him. I’ve never been scared of him. It’s the opposite, actually. He makes me feel safe. Protected. Because I know if anyone ever tries to get to me or the kids, he’s more than capable of stopping them. He’s not a monster, K.” 

 “I never said he was. But that kind of job? Being a mercenary? And doing it as long as he did?” 

 “Tyler was never the job. The job was just part of him. I’ve known a lot of mercenaries. A lot. Guys that allowed the job to totally take them over. To the point you didn’t even recognize them anymore.  That’s that all they are. Callous, cold, calculated, violent. Extremely violent. And horrifically abusive. To everyone. Girlfriends, spouses, kids.” 

 Kyle gives a small, almost sad smile. “Nik’s told me some stories.” 

 “Tyler would kill himself before he ever hurt me or the kids. He’d put a bullet in his brain if he ever got like that. I’m not scared of him. I never have been. And don’t underestimate me. I could put him on his ass if I ever had to.” 

 Her brother laughs at that. 

 “He’d never do anything to us. That’s the last thing you need to worry about. He was never like those other guys. I guess that’s what really set him apart; what I found really intriguing about him. Out of all the mercenaries I’ve worked alongside of and knowing the stories that revolved around him, I expected him to be one of them. And he wasn’t. He was still human. And you may not see it because he’s stubborn and thinks he has to hide certain sides of himself, but he’s a good person, K. A good person who’s had to do some terrible things to stay alive. He’s a big man with an even bigger hurt. You just have to be fortunate enough to get to experience it.” 

 “I see how he was with you. How he is with the rugrats. He adores those kids. And worships the ground you walk on. I mean, I think you’re an annoying bitch, but...” 

 She smirks and directs a kick to his shin. 

 “But I see how he is with you. You guys share a pretty profound bond, you know. You saved his life. Literally.” 

 “I did what anyone would do,” Esme reasons. “You save people all the time.” 

 “That’s my job.” 

 “I wasn’t going to let him die there. And I definitely wasn’t going to let someone hold me back and expect me to just stand there and watch him die.” 

 “Esme,” Kyle sighs. “Don’t bring Nik into this.” 

 “She left him there. She didn’t even want anyone to get to him to help. What kind of person does that? He became expendable. The job was done, and she need him anymore. And she was willing to let me die on that bridge too. I know you love her, but least accept the truth on who she is and what she’s capable of.” 

 A server comes to take their drink and food order, and Esme gives he a smile of appreciation and hands her the menu. 

 “I saved Tyler because he deserved better than the end he was being given.” she says. “Because no matter how badly he thought he deserved death, he deserved a second chance more. You learn a lot about someone when you’re running for your life and trusting them to get keep you alive, believe me.” 

 “And when you spend five days in a hotel room pretend to be married to them,” Kyle grins.  

 “I’m not talking about what their favorite sexual positions are or how kinky they can be. And trust me, he can be extremely dirty.” 

 Kyle grimaces. “I do not need to hear this.” 

 “And regardless of what you or Nik think, it wasn’t just sex. Those five says. It’s  not like we never spoke to each other. We talked. A lot. We told each other things we’d never told anyone else. So it wasn’t just physical connection, as amazing as that was. It was more than that. Way more. I wouldn’t have stuck around in Australia and spent months sleeping in a chair at the hospital if it wasn’t.” 

 “And now here you are. Married, five kids.” 

 She nods. 

 “Honestly, I never expected this from you. Especially after Mark. After all the shit he put you through…" 

 “Well sometimes someone comes along and shows you that not all men are the same. That not all love hurts. I was lucky. Not everyone gets that chance.” 

 “I gotta hand it to you, kid. You’ve come a long way.” 

 “I didn’t mean to cause issues between you and Nik,” she says. “Just so you know. That wasn’t my intention. But we’d give up that life. That’s why we left Colorado. To start fresh. And suddenly she just shows up? Asking for his help? Again? He’s shed enough blood for her. Tyler owes her nothing.” 

 “It’s not she’s asking him to go back out there,” Kyle reasons. “She just needs his help. With Ovi.” 

 “And don’t even get me started about that! Her encouraging this with Ovi.  After everything that’s kid been through? For years we’ve struggled to get that kid healthy. Mentally healthy. And he gets some stupid ass idea in his head and instead of telling him how stupid it is, she encourages him! Recruits him. You must be able to see how screwed up that is.” 

 “He’s not a kid anymore,” Kyle reasons. “He’s a grown man.” 

 “He’s my kid. No matter how old he is. This is a horrible idea, K. Ovi deserves so much better than this. And something or someone has gotten into his head and poisoned him to the point he thinks this is a smart, viable option. Nothing good will come of this. Nothing. For Ovi. For Tyler.” 

 “All Tyler has to do is train him. That’s it.” 

 “And you think that’s enough?” she gives a dry laugh. “I’ll you what. You put in some of the leg work. Spend a couple of days when them ‘training’. It's not as simple and basic as you’re making it out to be. Try it. One day eve. And then see you how you feel about it.” 

 “Maybe I will.” 

 “Go ahead. I know you think you’re a total bad ass, bit you now idea what it all entails. No idea. But if you think it’s that easy, then come on over and Tyler will put you through the paces. You’re probably be crying for mom when it’s over. If you even last that long. You’ve been to the gym with him; you know how hard core goes.” 

 Kyle nods. 

 “Imagine that times...I don’t know...twenty. And that’s if he’s slacking. Don’t underestimate him. You can the take man out of the job, but you can’t take the job out of the man.” 

 “You think he’ll go back?” Kyle asks. “That he’ll get the itch? That just training won’t be enough.” 

 “I’ve told him that if he has to go...if Ovi gets into trouble and needs his help.... that’s fine. I’ll support him one hundred percent. But if he willingly goes for any other reason, we’re done. I’m done. I’m leaving and I’m taking kids with me. No looking back. I cut my loses and that’s that.” 

 He frowns. “That seems a little harsh.” 

 “I can’t do that life again. I just can’t. And I love him, but I love my kids more. And they deserve better than that life. They deserve a father that’s devoted to them and only them. And he can’t be if he goes back to the job. He just can’t.” 

 “So you’d just take off and take his kids?” 

 “I didn’t say he wouldn’t be able to see them. Because I’d never do that to him. Or them. But they need a stable, calm environment. And when he’s doing the job, our house is anything but stable and calm. It’s not what’s best for the kids. Not Tyler. Not me. Them.” 

 “Well for his sake, I hope he does the right thing and doesn’t fuck up. That’d probably kill him losing his kids.” 

 “Don’t put that on me, Kyle. It’s hard enough making that kind of decision, but adding that kind of guilt to it?” 

 “That wasn’t what I was trying to do, and you know it. But you honestly go to that extreme? Taking his kids away from him?” 

 “I wouldn’t be taking them away. They’d still see him. It’s about giving them a stable environment. And nothing is stable when it comes to the job. Because first the job comes about, then the drinking, then the fighting. You don’t know what it was really like, K. You only know half of what went on in our house.” 

 “Couldn’t have been that bad,” he comments. “You guys got back together. After you split for those six months.” 

 “Because he promised to get his shit together and said he wanted to work on things and make them better. And you know what? That lasted about eight months. And then it all started all over again. All because of the stupid goddamn job and because of Nik’s inability to leave him alone.” 

 “Esme, we said we weren’t going to fight. And if you bring up Nik, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and you know it. If you didn’t want me with her, why’d you even set me up with her in the first place?” 

 “Because she was way too good to be stuck with Mark. No one deserved to be stuck with that asshole.” 

 “So what? You used me to get her away from Mark? What...?” 

 “I didn’t think anything would actually happen between you two,” she admits. “At least nothing serious. I thought you’d have your fun for a little bit and then move on. You’d never been interested in settling down before. I never thought you’d start thinking about it when you met her.” 

 “That’s messed up. Using your own brother like that. Here I thought you did it because you wanted me to happy.” 

 “Of course I want you to be happy. I just don’t want you to be happy with her.” 

 Kyle gives a derisive snort and shakes his head. 

 “You’re too good for you,” Esme informs her. 

 “First, she’s too good for Mark, now I’m too good for her?” 

 “You deserve someone...I don’t know...different. Someone who can devote themselves to you. Who isn’t so hung up on their career. Someone who’d be happy being a firefighter’s wife. And believe, there’s tons of girls like that out there.” 

 “Maybe that’s not the type I want. Maybe I want someone who has more going for her. If you were that against this, why didn’t you say something before? Instead of waiting until four months before the wedding. A wedding which you...my own sister...hasn’t even committed to yet.” 

 “Have you ever thought maybe I’m not comfortable being there? Kyle’ she’s spent years trying to fuck up my marriage. And now I’m just supposed to be okay with hers?” 

 “I’m your brother.” 

 “Exactly. You are. Which means something should have told you marrying the woman spent six and a half years trying to fuck mt husband wasn’t a good idea.” 

 “Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought you’d grown up enough to let it go. She tried, he turned her down. End of story.” 

 “So you’re okay with being married to someone with no morals?” 

 “You’re okay with it,” he retorts. “You’re married to someone who killed people for a living.” 

 Esme scowls. “That’s not the same thing and you know it.” 

 “You’re right. It’s not. It’s even worse. You’re going to preach to me about morals when you’re married to hired killer? Who you were fucking three days after you met him.  And you think you’re somehow morally superior?” 

 “That’s low, Kyle. Nik has enough blood on her hands herself. Including Tyler’s.” 

 “And you’re still holding onto that. It’s been almost what? Seven years? Since Dhaka? And you’re still holding onto that?” 

 “Oh I’m sorry,” she scoffs. “You watch someone you love get shot in the throat. You have them bleed out all over you. You stick your fingers in their neck to try and keep them alive. And then you tell me how easy it is to get over.” 

 The server arrives with their food, breaking the tension that has fallen on the table.  And Esme takes a sip of her water in a vain attempt to wash down the lump of emotion that now sits firmly on their throat. 

 “You have no idea what was like,” she scowls, as she uses her fork to stab at the salad on her plate. “Saying what I saw. Doing what I did. You have no clue, Kyle. And you have no right downplaying it and telling me to just ‘get over it’.” 

 “It’s been almost seven years,” he gently reminds her. 

 “And sometimes it feels like it’s only been seven days. So until you’re at in that kind of situation...and I hope you never ate...you need to keep your advice and your opinions to yourself. If you want to marry Nik, go ahead. But I won’t be there. None of us well. I love you. But I don’t agree with what you’re doing. If it were anyone but here, I’d be there.  But after what she’s done...after she was going to leave us there...I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy for you. Because I’m not. I know what she’s like and I know what your life is going to be like. You’re going to spend it being second to the job. And you deserve so much better than that.” 

 “So do you,” Kyle says. “But you stick around.” 

 “Don’t ever compare Tyler to her. Because you know that’s complete and utter bullshit. He is nothing like her.” 

 “You keep telling yourself that, Esme. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.” 

 “Don’t even put the two together in a sentence. If you want to marry her and never have a normal marriage or kids of a stable life, go ahead. But I’m supporting that bullshit.: 

 Kyle sighs heavily. “You’re even more stubborn than I remember.” 

 “I’m not stubborn. I’m just sick of peoples’ shit. Hers. Yours. Why couldn’t she just leave us alone? We were happy. Things were great. And now all of the drama is back again. And I’m had it up to my eyeballs in Nik drama.” 

 She sighs heavily when her phone vibrates against the table, then grins when she checks the text message. 

 “Apparently you’ve made an impression on my neighbor,” she says. 

 “Salena?” 

 Esme nods. “I guess she stopped by the house and Tyler told her you showed up at her place last night looking for a piece of ass. And she actually believed him. Now she wants me to give you her cell and her home number. You know shit is getting real when someone gives up their home number. Do you want them or...?” 

 “I’m engaged,” he reminds her. “I’m getting married in four months.” 

 “That means you have four months to change your mind.” 

 “Esme...” 

 “Don’t be so difficult,” she snags his cell from where it sits next to his plate and proceeds to add Salena’s name, info, and numbers into his contacts. “Trust me. You’ll thank me for this.” 

 He somehow doubts that.

[honeybinnies]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦. — a skz multi-ship one-shot wherein ten friends take a trip to a cabin, and go wild with a game of spin the bottle, and seven minutes in heaven. 

pairings: seo changbin, lee felix + reader, kim woojin, bang chan + kim seungmin, lee minho, han jisung + hwang hyunjin 

additional characters: yang jeongin (bc hes babie) 

rating: E (explicit) for sexual content and vulgar language

word count: 3.3k words

note: @changlixfucker69 come get yall juice i hate u for making me die several times while doing this

thanks for 500+ followers! this is what i had in store for u guys, so i hope doing this one-shot did you justice! for a better experience, have this, this, and this song for,,, you know,,, the adventure 

       “YOU KNOW WHAT FUCKIN’ SUCKS?” Felix hollered over to the living room where the rest lazed, either tapping away on their phones or having some minimal conversation about how the weather was, or the classifications of goats’ cheese around Europe. Despite the coziness in the cabin they settled in for the next few days, unpacking was never a forte within them. They would only catch you, Woojin, Chan and Seungmin moving about, unloading baggage and settling down in the wooden house. The rest were unproductive, as usual.

Felix groaned at the lack of response, gripping his hand tighter on the doorknob. He didn’t stop complaining, nonetheless, and shut the bathroom door as loud as he could. “When people leave their drips of pee on the bowl, and never even bother to clean it up after! I mean, think of the other bathroom users who actually care about sanitation.” Snappish, he rubbed his hands clean with sanitizer from the countertop, and flopped right beside an uninterested Jisung. “Which one of you fuckers had the audacity to break proper bathroom decorum?”

“Calm your ass, Bokkie.” Hyunjin mused, swiping several filters for a selfie he took with the resplendent design of the furnished cabin. “If anybody would do such a thing, it would be Jisung.”

“Excuse me?” Jisung looked up from his phone, disinterest now incredulous. “Why do you always blame me for everything, huh? Just this morning, you blamed me for spilling strawberry milkshake on the seat when it was clearly Jeongin.”

“No, Ji, we all know that was you.” Seungmin remarked, huffing out a small sigh as he placed the rest of the bags on the empty armchair beside Minho. “Could you all please get up and help us four here? [First Name]’s having trouble with the grill!”

“I got it.” Changbin stood abruptly, locking his phone as he did so. The rest could only tease, resonating a sound of “oohs” and whistles that echoed around the cabins of the forest. Changbin, seemingly flustered, looked over to the bunch, and flashed them an easy glare. “What?” He grumbled. “It’s obvious that the girl needs help. It’s a grill.”

“Right, like you should’ve known that earlier.” Minho laughed, quirking an obvious brow at the younger. The rest only snickered at Minho’s retort, obviously enjoying the teasing session they were giving Changbin. It was an inside joke among the guys that you and Changbin were known as the “Romeo and Juliet” of the bunch, knowing the obvious signs of fancy towards you two. Your denials were borderline a pain to hear most of the time, but it’s not like the guys never knew about the secret kisses you two shared when no one was looking, or the whispers of endearments on your ears when it was quiet amidst the night.

The guys were going to deal with another series of these subtleties for the next three days, and they didn’t know whether to cry or to tune into their interest.

Little did they know that a certain person was in quite of a dismal conflict with yours and Changbin’s relationship. As Changbin finally escaped his friends’ constant teasing, Felix followed the older’s gaze as he made his way to the door, eager to help you with tonight’s grilling session. He whipped his head to the side at the thought of the two of you, a small sour pit building on his stomach slowly, but horribly. Unlike Changbin, the greatest hyung to ever exist in his life, you were the first to ever move his heart in any way. You were there for him when he was going through some of the hardest time, you were there when he would ask for some criticism on his dance moves, you were there when he improved himself, made himself a better person. It wasn’t wrong for him to suddenly fall on a crush for you, and if any guy would love you for your looks, Felix loved you for what you’ve made him become. A better person.

Jeongin was the first to notice the pain written across Felix’s features, as the laugh that he emitted died down from the rest, glancing over to the blonde boy with sympathy. He looked over to the door where Changbin once stood, assuming that he was probably helping you with the rustic grill with the marred green edges, and back at Felix, whose company seemed to be bothered at the moment. Carefully, he grazed his palm over Felix’s knee, and sported him a sad smile, one that Felix returned back, if not even more sorrowful than the one Jeongin had. “I’ll be okay.” He mouthed at the youngest, to which the youngest nodded before returning back to the sudden conversation on bugs around the cabin.

“Alright, fellas. Let’s get down to business.” Chan sighed once everybody has settled down. It’s past afternoon, nearing five in the cabin. The “porters” were exhausted in their place, wiping some sweat and grime off their faces as they turned their attention to Chan. He could almost laugh at how tired they must’ve been from the four-hour trip, but that didn’t waver him from the itinerary. “First off, dinner. It’s almost 6PM, so we better start prepping the meat.”

He looked at each one as they turned to face him, faces attentive and ears open. “Secondly, Woojinnie, [First Name], and I set up a bonfire by the backyard—“

“A backyard campfire?!” Jeongin brightened, sparkles twinkling on his eyes. “With the marshmallows and all?”

“Yes, Innie.” Chan chuckled, fond of the youngest. “We’re having s’mores. Lastly,” there was a change of expression on the older’s face, something less calm and more clouded, almost challenging if the guys were to describe it. Dread slowly crept up to their throats, and suddenly, they all wondered if they would like the idea that Chan had in mind.

A deep, almost shy chuckle escaped from Chan’s lips as he brought a hand to his nape, rubbing the base bashfully. “We’re having a game of spin the bottle.”

The entire cabin went silent. All of the guys, including you, stared dumbly at Chan for a good few seconds, processing everything. A game of spin the bottle? How could such a simple, family-friendly game be so…worrisome to the rest. There was a catch, you all thought. There must be a catch. It isn’t just a game of spin the bottle when a person like Bang Chan hosted it—

“Threesome edition.”

Another silence. The air stilled, the stares grew deeper. If you could almost hear the way the gears on your minds were working, they’d be turning fast. Nobody knew what to say. It wasn’t like the bunch has ever done dirty games such as these. Hell, you guys have done the craziest and dirtiest of games, though they were mostly through drinking sessions and foolish, bored times around the dorm or your apartment whenever you’d offer them a 10-person dinner.

A threesome edition, though, was something else, and Felix had the urge to glance at you and Changbin, if not the slightest of peeks.

“Wait,” Seungmin interjected, snapping everyone out from a daze. “A…A threesome? Just how are we going to do that?”

“The way other people have done threesomes.” Chan shrugged, still slightly bashful. No one noted the way Woojin rubbed comforting rubs beneath his inner thigh, hoping to ease the shyness out of Chan. “We can think of something else if you’d like—“

“Let’s do it.” Minho said, suddenly daring. Chan brightened at the younger’s challenged expression, and looked over at the rest, the same look mirroring Minho’s. “You guys up for it?”

“I’ll be the game master.” Jeongin said bluntly, fiddling with a split end of his bangs. “Always have been anyway, since none of you ever really involve me in your slutty shenanigans. Now, let’s eat!” He stood, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m starving over here.”

“This’ll be exciting.” You stood with the rest, patting the dust off the crumbs and specs of the clothed couch. You turned your head over to Felix, who seemed to be the most silent throughout the talk, and nudged your knee on his thigh. “Right, Lix?” He only gave you a spread of a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, and stood alongside you, patting your shoulder. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

You never understood the emptiness in his usually cheerful voice.

          The ten of you didn’t expect the spin the bottle game to be like…this. It was already expected that things would get especially spicy, yet the fate of the bottle spinning towards the groups of three was unexpected, but somehow fated. It was around 10 in the evening, mouths cleaned from the sweetness of the chocolate and marshmallows, and skins fresh from the dirt and hard-work from today’s set up. The each of you knew that showering again would be the best option, so neither of you never minded it. The game was just too interesting.

Here’s how it all went down:

The moment the bottle landed last on Seungmin, everybody guffawed, throwing themselves off their crossed-legged position on the floor or shaking one another by the shoulders. The last man chosen could only blink at the bottle, before staring up at the other two in slight bemusement. Woojin and Chan were flustered as they should, exchanging eye contact with the younger. Surprisingly, Seungmin never minded, and just stood, going to the room.

“Well?” He asked when he turned to Woojin and Chan, who were baffled by his sudden change in demeanor. The rest never knew what happened inside that room once the door was shut and locked, the three inside aware of their time limit. Seven minutes in heaven, that’s all they had, and for whatever’s worth, the rest were curious to what they had in stored for each other, knowing that Seungmin wasn’t the type to be easily persuaded in these events.

Little did they know that Seungmin himself was propped up on an armchair, fingers wrapped around the material of his camera as he captured the scene unfolding in front of him. His photos were skin against skin, tongues tied and saliva slicked, mouths wide open and breathing out gentle moans. Woojin had his cold fingers trailing over the base of Chan’s stomach, his warm lips filled Chan’s neck, peppering, licking, sucking, while Chan’s warm palms roamed past Woojin’s back, smoothing past his skin while he let the older take complete control over him, hitting him in the right spots.

“Don’t mind me, hyung.” Seungmin hummed when he heard Chan moan out his name in question, as if asking him why he wasn’t joining in. He only sunk deeper in the armchair, eyes hooded and voice suddenly an octave lower, and raised his camera, focusing and zooming in on Woojin’s glossed lips on Chan’s chest, the quality coming out dim and golden. “Just have your fun while I’m having mine.”

Jisung wasn’t having it any better too. He was having the best time of his life.

The moment Jeongin set the timer from outside their door, Minho and Hyunjin gave him no mercy. The two had him fisting at the white sheets of the cabin, one that smelled like fresh detergent and a tinge of cinnamon. He had his head thrown back completely, eliciting vocal moans that had the two’s egos boosted way up as they patched every bit of his skin with kisses and bites. “F-Fuck, wow.” Jisung spluttered, jolting in peer pleasure when he felt Minho’s lips travel down to his length, licking the seams of his tip like dripping ice cream.

“You’re wet, Sungie.” Minho chuckled on his tip, staring up at him hungrily as he gave one more lick for good measure. “Hyunnie seems to be doing a good job up there, huh?” Before Jisung could respond, he was left a stuttering mess once more when he felt Hyunjin groan against Jisung’s neck, pleased with the praise Minho gave him. With Hyunjin’s hands brushing past his nipples, and his plump lips pressed firmly against the sensitive spot on his neck, it pissed Jisung off how wet he could already get by just this short form of foreplay. Minho, amused by his speechless response, rose up to kiss Jisung, allowing him to taste a bit of his precum before tilting his head to the mirror.

“Look at you, fucked out already. It hasn’t even been seven minutes, and you’ve already reached heaven.” Jisung could only whimper in response, vision clouded and hazed as he locked gazes with himself in the mirror. Sweat glistened from his body down to his navel, and it showcased a perfect view of Hyunjin’s side profile on his chest, eyes closed and at pure bliss at his own lips on Jisung’s skin. Not to mention, the hooded bangs on Minho’s eyes and the gloss of saliva and cum on his lips didn’t even help Jisung one bit, and he shut his eyes, pleasure enfolding him completely.

“Ahh-ah,” Minho gripped his chin, snapping him towards the wide mirror view. “Keep your eyes on the mirror, Sungie. You need to see how beautiful you look while Hyunnie and I bring you to heaven in the next five minutes.”

Lastly, it all went down to you, Changbin, and Felix. While the rest were unfazed by the pairing, only Jeongin would look over to how surprised Felix’s face was when he knew he was paired with the two of you. With Felix’s heart beating louder and louder, his eyes shone over to the both of you once the door closed, and heard Jeongin count to hammering of his heart on his chest, loud and clear.

“Seven minutes, your time starts now!”

If Felix were to be frank, he didn’t even know what happened after the minutes started ticking down. Firstly, all he ever did was stand here, conflicted and wondering how he was going to go about this entire game without you and Changbin noticing his final moments of sanity. He’s…never really thought about anything exceptionally lewd with you, let alone with his hyung. Well, yeah, sure, he’s had thoughts of kissing you, had thoughts of making out by the couch or by the kitchen countertop, but he’s never thought of an actual threesome.

How would he even make you pleasured? He knew nothing of the sort, unlike you and Changbin, who have probably snuck in a few sneaky touches underneath the shirt or beneath the tables. He wondered how Hyunjin and Seungmin tackled theirs—Seungmin explaining that he took pictures instead—but Felix couldn’t take pictures as good as Seungmin. Would he even have the guts to visualize Changbin and his caressing touches on your skin when all he could ever feel was a tinge of jealousy that churned around his stomach.

Felix wanted to leave, but it was too late. He already immersed himself in this game, and it was getting too addictive to stop.

“That’s it, love.” Changbin whispered on your ear as you moaned to his touch, raking the fingers on the sheets while his hands kneaded your breasts expertly. “Don’t be afraid to let it out, I’ve always adored your voice when you call out my name.” With his fingers trickling up from your lower breasts to your nipples, you gasped when he teased his fingers over your hardened buds, as if waiting for the right moment to pinch.

“B-Binnie, please, I—Lix!” To your surprise, you jolted when Felix had your legs spread wide and his face locked in between your legs, peppering gentle kisses on your damp heat. His fingers were splayed perfectly on your inner thighs, rubbing circles that stimulated your arousal. He didn’t know what went over him, honestly, but everything about you enticed him; your moans, your beautiful face glistening with sweat from the sex filling the room, and the way your legs were spread nicely, caging his head in place whenever the ghost of his tip ran over your folds, making you shiver in pleasure. It was an urge, he thought to himself, and he’s glad that he took the chance when he had it.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” Felix pulled away, quirking a brow at your reaction. He could almost smirk when he heard a whine escape your lips, as you shook your head dismissively through the various kneads of Changbin’s fingers on your hardened buds. “N-No, you’re good you’re—you’re great…”

Satisfied, and so full of himself, Felix grinned at the praise you were giving him, and dived his head back down, positioning himself once more between your legs, glancing up at you ravenously. “Tell us how good we’re making you feel, love.” Love, since when has he ever called you that? “We want to hear how good we’re making you feel.” This is too overwhelming, but too exciting at the same time. The thrill is setting him on fire, and it doesn’t take rocket science to know that the words that spilled out your lips next sent him to heaven faster than you and Changbin could ever reach.

So, with his tongue swirling expertly on your heat, taking in your leaking cum by each time his tongue presses on your clit, his eyes flutter shut at the sensation of eating you out, humming by the shiver and throb of your skin on his lips. He groaned when your fingers began threading to his hair, tugging and pulling at the roots, taking him deeper, filling his tongue all across your core. Your moans have grown excessively louder, and each stimulant on your neck from Changbin’s bites and your throbbing core made you want more, more, more. You stuttered a breathy whimper when you spread your legs wider, giving Felix better access to roam his tongue all over your core, and the single finger of his hand to slip inside you, pressing twice on your clit to have him enjoy his course. Everything was in pure bliss for the three of you, and you three weren’t even aware that knocking resounded on the door, four knocks too long.

“You guys!” Jeongin huffed impatiently. “It’s way past seven minutes, get out of there!”

“Let them be, Innie.” Jisung patted the youngest on the shoulder, face spread into a sympathetic look as Jeongin turned to face him. “[First Name] and Changbin have never gone this extreme before, and it’s Felix’s first time to even touch a woman. Give them seven more minutes.”

“Or an hour.” They could hear Changbin hoarse out through the door, leaving the rest silent in their place. Sullenly, they sauntered back to the couch, and settled in complete silence as they regarded your vocal moans and Felix and Changbin’s words of praises as music to their ears, except for Jeongin, obviously.

“I can bet you Bokkie dommed the shit out of [First Name]!” Hyunjin exclaimed, listening in more to the way Felix begged for your praises. The rest seemed to agree with him, eyes up and focusing on the lewd shouts resonating from the third room to the right. They didn’t notice Jeongin ghosting a smile from the kitchen, his back faced from his friends as he prepared himself a midnight snack. Perhaps Felix has realized something from this silly little game that his hyung prepared in their three-day trip, and even if it meant taking him days to open up to you and Changbin about it, at least this should knock some sense into him. Never mind how weird the circumstance is, just let Felix be the judge of that.

“Third time’s a charm.” Jeongin mumbled to himself, sipping his cup of hot chocolate before going back to his group of friends, who were currently betting over who got to pleasure you better.

[livingmybestfictionallife]

A Couple of Outsiders

HC Ask turned into a fic: how about how he would react to a reader who has a huge crush on him but still stood up to him when he was bullying someone? Just a thought if you like it run with it if not don't worry about it. 

A/N: I ran a little too much with it

Y/N was born and raised in Hawkins, Indiana, where not much happened and life stood still. She hated attention and expectations, and certainly didn’t fit into the small town vibe Hawkins was known for. Most girls at her school still wore skirts and dresses. If they did wear pants, it was a pair of uncomfortable looking expensive slacks that stuck up girls in movies wore when they were “rebelling” against their rich fathers.

In a small town like hers, everyone knew when her mom got sick, everyone was at the funeral when she passed, and everyone was watching over her and handling her as if she were a thin slate of glass. The other girls wouldn’t talk to the girl who always wore denim pants and various rock band t-shirts. Boys wouldn’t approach her if she put off a tough image, and an oversized leather jacket that belonged to her father secured her solitude. By making heads turn as the eyesore of the good-girl image young women of Hawkins were expected to be, she subsequently succeeding in getting everyone to turn their eyes away from her.

Invisible in plain sight by sticking out like a sore thumb. Perfect bliss.

Until October 1984. The roar of a strong engine carried through the air and into Y/N’s ears. As the engine died down into a rumbling purr, she found herself humming along to track number two of Scorpions ‘Love at First Sting’ album, that had been released at the beginning of that year.

Finally, someone in this town has good taste in music! she thought as her eyes scanned the pre-cal equations she’d completed while half-asleep the night before.

“Would you look at that ass,” she heard a girl beside her whisper to her friend once the music was shut off and the only sound that seemed to permeate the utter silence around her were the gasps of curious girls ages fourteen to eighteen. At least slightly curious to see what all the commotion was about, Y/N look up from her notebook and caught sight of a boy who upheld all her classmates’ lewd first impressions.

Billy took his time to adjust to the place he was uprooted and brought to, and after gently turning down plenty of propositions, he set his sights on his best bet for female companionship. Not only was this girl the only one in this town that even remotely seemed to have similar interests in him--given she wasn’t a phoney with her Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC, Scorpions, Boston, and Zeppelin t-shirts--but she seemed to live on the outside. He’d always been at the center of attention in school, especially when the attention was coming from girls. Not did the fact that Y/N thrived on being on the outside looking in intrigue him, but the fact that she was the only girl who hadn’t even tried to get his attention captured his.

Aside from that, in the week since he arrived, he didn’t notice many people interacting with her, which meant he was more than likely safe from any possessive boyfriend or jealous ex. So one day before school started, he made his move.

Every morning Y/N sat outside the school, against it’s dingy brick walls, and surveyed her homework from the night before. Every morning Billy noticed her eyes lock onto him whenever he pulled in the parking lot. Every morning, she hides a blush and he hides a smirk as he passes her on his way into the building, but this morning he stopped.

“Like what you see?” he asked her with a cocky grin on his face.

“She’s beautiful,” Y/N commented while never taking her eyes off the Camaro. In her peripherals, she noticed the grin on Billy’s face falter by a fraction at he supposed disinterest in him.

“Wanna go for a ride sometime?” Billy asked and slipped himself into a position that required Y/N to make eye contact with him.

“Are you asking if I want to take her for a spin?” she countered.

“Hell no!” Billy gasped with a laugh on his lips. As if this girl could handle my girl!!

“Then hell no,” Y/N mimicked Billy’s tone and turned to walk away with a massive smirk on her lips. Sure she’d been waiting for Billy Hargrove to come up and speak to her since he arrived, but living on the outside made her wary of people who thrived in the limelight. She didn’t know him enough to trust him just yet, but she did know enough about him to know playing hard to get would work.

A days went by before Billy approached Y/N again. She was at her locker and gathering her things at the end of the day.

“Come to hit on me again, Hargrove?” she asked with a smirk as he stared fearlessly into his eyes.

“Actually, I need your help,” he admitted. “I’ve gotta change the oil and I’m at a loss for a good shop to get oil from.”

“Well then today is your lucky day,” Y/N said with another smirk before taking him by the arm and bringing him to an old, dark green El Camino sitting in it’s regular spot not two spaces over from the blue Camaro. “A lot of places will tell you to just go to the guy on the corner of main, but he’ll screw you out of a decent price. This place is better,” she explained as she pulled up to an old gas station equipped with a garage in the back.

Billy followed her inside, found the oil and filter he would need, paid, and then followed Y/N back to her El Camino before asking not only how she knew so much about cars, but why that place.

“I’m the only child of a single father who’s a mechanic. I learned on the job,” she said and helped him change his oil in the school’s parking lot.

Slowly, over the next couple of weeks, Billy grew bolder in approaching Y/N, and had worked his way to having a conversation with her that lasted longer than ten minutes--something no one in Hakwins thought was possible for the reclusive girl.

He still wanted to ask her out, but didn’t think she’d say yes, so he opted for something a bit less exclusive.

Standing outside her locker, Y/N glanced over to see Billy waiting beside her with a smile plastered over his face.

“You’re coming with me to TIna’s party tonight.”

“And do I get a say in it?”

“You want to drive the Camaro, right?” She nodded. “Well I may get shit faced and I figure...if there’s anyone in this shit hole I can trust her with, it’s you.” Damn he’d do anything to see her face light up like it just did.

“I’m going as Dallas Winston, so--”

“So I’ll think of something,” Y/N finished with a small smile. Convenient that he just happened to choose my favorite greaser to go as. Well two can play at that game.

Y/N drove to Billy’s house dressed in a normal pair of jeans with converse tied around her feet, a plain white t-shirt she had cut into a crop top, situated around her torso revealing a sizable portion of her midriff, and a flannel shirt wit the front of the shirt tied up over the crop top and around her breasts to complete her female Sodapop Curtis look. She parked down the street from Billy’s house and walked through the backyards until she reached his open window, just as he informed her to,  and didn’t ask questions for his reasoning.

Billy slid out of the window wearing only a pair of boots, jeans, and a leather jacket and Y/N swore he was even hotter than Matt Dillon had been in the movie.

Aside from driving Billy crazy all night with her costume and maintaining a nice buzz while being able to sober herself at a moment’s notice, Y/N was content to watch Billy amaze the small town minds around them. They were an odd pairing, but it worked. She liked to observe and he liked to be observed; in a weird way, it was kind of perfect.

Billy was right in warning Y/N about getting shit-faced, hell just about everyone at the party was inebriated in one way, shape, or form, but drunk Billy was looking for a challenge. Her eyes trailed his shining torso as beer dripped from his skin, a cigarette dangled between his lips, much like one did every day, but a crazed look entered his eyes as he followed Tommy into the house. Y/N tailed behind him, still observing, and waited to see what would happen next.

“We’ve got ourselves a new Keg King, Harrington!” Tommy yelled. Of course, Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed at the pissing match she knew would ensue. Steve Harrington turned the other way and followed his girlfriend while Billy’s drunken self stumbled into a kid who had to be no older than fifteen dressed like Daniel LaRusso.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole,” The Karate Kid muttered only to find himself shoved face first into the floor.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Y/N could hear Billy grumble.

“A drunk prick!”

“Billy!” Y/N yelled and immediately found herself latching onto his arm to keep his clenched fist from colliding against the unfortunate sophomore’s head.

“Let go.” His voice wasn’t raised and nothing in his posture made Y/N feel as if she were in danger, but his eyes were so fierce and commanding, she released his arm and turned from the gathering crowd to escape the party.

Billy found himself rushing after her long before he realized she had the keys to his Camaro. “Y/N,” he called her name into the night what he thought was a million times until she stopped dead in her tracks and turned to stare him in the eyes once more.

“You were seriously about to beat up a kid that you’re drunk ass fell into in the first place,” she stated.

“Y/N--”

“You can’t do shit like that!!” she found herself lecturing him. “You don’t get to be a bully to Steve Harrington or unsuspecting juniors or sophomores that you fucking trip into in the first place and then be nice to me!”

“Y/N just calm down for a minute! Cool off, okay?”

“Cool off?! You need to cool off, Billy, and when you learn to talk and act decent, maybe I’ll cool off too!” Y/N snapped and yelled the first thing that came into her head.

“Did you just--? You did!” he gasped with a teasing smirk on his face.

“You’re drunk,” Y/N muttered before turning her back to Billy and jamming the key into the lock in hopes to get him in the car and not draw attention to themselves.

“Yes, but I know what I heard,” he snickered. “You just said the movie!”

“I’m mad, Billy! You’re acting like a jerk!”

“You said the thing Cherry said to Dallas at the movies!” His eyes were glossy and his lips were somewhere between a snicker and a smile as he stumbled closer to Y/N.

“So what if I did? Is it going to change me being mad at you?” Y/N hissed.

“We should watch the movie together!”

“Billy, focus!” Y/N yelled at him one more time and grabbed him by the front of his leather jacket. “Dallas is an asshole to Cherry and her friend, right?”

“Yeah, at the movies.” She rolled her eyes at Billy’s inability to focus on anything besides The Outsiders as the moment. In a huff, she placed her back against the driver side door of the Camaro and leaned against the car to take the pressure off her feet.

“Then why would Dally think he stood a chance of dating Cherry if he’s just going to be mean to everyone except her?” Y/N asked as Billy’s feet stumbled out from under him and he struggled to stand up.

“She shouldn’t. He’s just lying to her,” he muttered and spat at the ground as the smell of the beer that was sticking to his skin wafted to his nose.

“And don’t you like me the way Dally likes Cherry?” Billy nodded his head and let out a defeated sigh. Even in his inebriation, he knew Y/N liked him and that she was well aware of his attraction to her. He’d known since that first day when she turned him down for not considering her request to drive the Camaro that he had fallen for her. He also knew she had fallen for him. For someone who spent her life hiding her emotions and herself, it was rather difficult for him to connect the dots, but way she pestered him about her El Camino being in better shape than the Camaro, the way she laughed whenever they were alone, the way she seemed to get lost in his eyes when listening to Metallica together on her walkman before school and between classes, they were all little signs that she wanted them to be more than just friends.

As Billy began to question why they hadn’t advanced their relationship from something more than friends, Y/N’s next comment provided some enlightenment.“Then why are you lying to me?” Billy’s eyes could hardly meet Y/N’s as he struggled to stand upright before her. He couldn’t help that he connected to Dallas when he read the book in his childhood, nor could he help the fact that Matt Dillon’s portrayal of the no-good-hood mirrored Billy’s bad-boy attitude, but he could help himself from having the same lack of fulfillment Dallas had in every relationship he cultivated.

“I like you Billy, as a friend and more, but I’m not sure I can trust someone who isn’t honest with me when it comes to who he is.” Y/N sighed as the words left her mouth and felt her heart sink when she watched Billy close the gap between them. He was still stumbling a little, but her frustration sobered him enough, not only to pay attention to her words, but to take those words to heart.

“I don’t want to be like Dallas,” he admitted as he took Y/N’s hands in his. They weren’t soft or delicate, and he didn’t expect them to be. Her hands were calloused and rough from working on cars with her dad, much like his were from maintaining and fine tuning the Camaro. “He died a seventeen-year-old asshole with only two people who maybe gave a shit about him,” he stated.

“Well I give a shit about you. Just stop acting like such a shitbird,” Y/N sighed. Billy nodded and took a deep breath, debated taking her into his arms, feeling her gentle touch, and smelling her soft hair, but he’d much rather initiate any physicality to their relationship while sober. So he stepped back and let go of Y/N’s hands.

“This place kind of sucks now,” Billy muttered and leaned his back against the Camaro beside Y/N. “What do you want to do now?” With a smirk on her lips and a chuckle rising into her chest, Y/N locked eyes with Billy before she gave him a wink and, in a smooth, taunting voice said:

“Nothing legal, man; let’s get out of here.”

[bytheangell]

Comfort in the Undefined

(Read on AO3) (Flufftober Day 21: Friends to Lovers)

It starts with a smile across a dinner table. 

At first Becky finds herself wary of Maia, this girl Simon suddenly brings over to a family holiday dinner with their grandmother of all people, but she seems nice. She doesn’t run from the barrage of questioning, Becky observes, so she must really like Simon. Which is good, because after watching Simon pine after Clary for so many years all Becky wants is to see him end up with someone who will pine right back - and if the heart-eyes Maia gives Simon as they laugh at something he said is any indication, they’re doing just that. 

Which is why Becky ignores the little flutter she feels when Maia laughs at something she says, and their eyes meet, and Maia’s smile is enough to make her forget why she’s here in the first place for just a second or two. 

---

It continues with a conversation in a hospital room. The walls are so white they hurt her eyes and the constant beeping of the machinery around her is meant to be reassuring of her steady vitals, but mostly just drives her insane. When she opens her eyes to the sound of a knock on the door she expects to see her mother, or Simon, or one of the nurses. 

The last person she expects to see is Maia. 

“Can I come in?” Maia asks, adding when Becky only blinks at her in confusion, “Shit, you were sleeping, weren’t you? Sorry, I can come back-”  “No, it’s fine. Come in.” 

“I heard what happened,” Maia starts. “And I just wanted you to know that I went through almost the exact same thing. Someone I loved, someone I trusted, hurt me when they didn’t mean to… and I know you talked to Simon, and everything is okay with you two, but it’s still a lot to go through so if you ever want someone to talk to, you can talk to me. If you want.” 

Becky lets Maia’s words sink in, wondering just how much Maia knows about Simon, but decides that she’s learned enough life-altering news for one day to pry into too much more. 

“If Simon sent you to see if I’m actually mad at him, I promise I’m not,” Becky half-jokes. 

Maia shakes her head. “Actually,” she starts, drawing the word out. “Simon doesn’t know I’m here.” 

“Oh,” Becky says, trying not to read too much into the fact that Maia actually came entirely because of her. 

So they talk; first about what happened to her and about dealing with the idea of wiping her mother’s memories again and carrying that secret, and then a lot of other things. 

They talk until visiting hours are over and Maia leaves, but not without giving Becky her number  in case she ever wants to talk, not just about this but about anything. 

This time, Becky realizes it isn’t just Simon who’s lucky enough to have Maia in his life - it’s all of them. 

---

It’s Halloween when Becky finds out that Maia is a werewolf. 

She also finds out that Maia and Simon broke up. 

Her initial sisterly instinct is to hate Maia, and she’s entirely willing to leave the bar and never talk to her again if that’s what Simon wants her to do, but Simon insists that he’s fine and it was mutual. Normally Becky would question that a lot more, but the fact that she knows Maia, and doesn’t believe that Maia would choose to hurt Simon, works heavily in her favor. And the fact that she saw the way Simon and Maia interacted when they first got here and didn’t sense a single thing off between them, well… maybe she can cut the girl some slack, even if she will have a lot of questions for both of them later. 

...until later involves a demon attack, in which Becky is saved by Isabelle (and does Simon have any friends who aren’t ridiculously attractive at this point?) and proceeds to not-so-subtly send Simon off to investigate with her after realizing in those few moments that Izzy just might be the key to Simon not swearing off love forever.  

Becky tells Simon she’ll go inside and call an uber back to his place, except she never makes it that far. Once back inside the bar she and Maia get to talking in between Maia making drinks and Becky drinking drinks, and is Becky just imagining things now that she knows Maia isn’t dating Simon, or is Maia flirting back? 

Before Becky could ignore every time she found herself impossibly attracted to Maia because it was always immediately followed by guilt over the fact that she was Simon’s girlfriend, and even just having those thoughts felt like a betrayal. But now, without that barrier, it’s taking what little self-control Becky has not to lean across the bar and kiss her every time Maia leans forward to talk or slide another glass her way. 

The next thing Becky knows instead of ordering a car Maia’s offering to walk her back to Simon’s now that her shift is over. 

“I’d much rather go back to your place,” Becky says suggestively, more than a little drunk. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Maia says with a sigh. 

“You don’t want to kiss me?” Becky asks, stopping suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk. Everything spins a little despite her lack of actual movement but before she loses balance Maia reaches out a hand to steady her. 

“I never said that,” Maia tells her, biting down on her lower lip as she stalls. “I do want to kiss you, that’s the problem - which is why I absolutely cannot take you back to my place right now.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Becky mumbles. 

“It will when you’re sober. Now let’s go, the fresh air will do you good,” Maia insists, leaving her hand on Becky’s arm from steadying her and using it to gently guide her down the street. 

 “Can you do that thing with your eyes again? That was hot,” Becky asks, having lost any semblance of a filter by this point. 

Maia nearly chokes on air at the statement. “You’re going to be the death of me, Rebecca,” she says, shaking her head. 

When they get back to Simon’s Maia agrees to come inside just long enough to make sure there’s some aspirin and a glass of water on the table next to the sofa where Becky insists on laying down. 

The last thing Becky remembers as she drifts off is the feeling of warm lips on her forehead and a whispered goodnight. 

---

Becky wakes up and is immediately grateful for the medicine and water she finds in front of her on the table. It doesn’t take long for the memories to come back to her from the night before, followed by a strange mixture of mortification and hope. Mortification because she said some ridiculously embarrassing things to Maia, but hope because unless her memory is playing tricks on her, Maia wanted to kiss her, too. 

Maybe Maia just said that so she wouldn’t feel bad, but Becky doesn’t think so and she’s willing to take a risk to find out. She flies back out later today anyway, so if she’s wrong she can just hide in Florida for the rest of her life and never talk to Maia again, no biggie. 

But if she’s right… 

“How are you feeling?” Maia asks immediately upon answering the phone. 

“Physically? Like I got hit by a truck. Emotionally? Like I owe you approximately 300 apologies for my lack of filter last night. I’m sorry if I made things weird,” Becky offers. 

Maia laughs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You were right,” Becky says suddenly. 

“I usually am,” Maia answers. “But about what?” 

“About what you said making sense once I’m sober.” There’s a heavy pause. “I’m sorry I put you in that position last night, and thanks for not… you know. But I have to know - did you mean what you said about wanting to kiss me?” 

There’s another long pause and Becky’s worried Maia is just trying to find a gentle way to let her down until she finally speaks again. 

“Yes. But not like-- I can’t do a relationship right now. So I’m sorry if you thought-” “Okay, so no relationship,” Becky cuts in. “I just really want to kiss you. I have for a while... and I’m totally sober now with a few hours until my flight, so…” 

“...so I could text you my address?” Maia offers. 

“You could definitely do that,” Becky agrees. “See you soon.”  

It’s just an afternoon before Becky leaves again, and once and a while when she makes it up to visit Simon during her school breaks, which is fine for Becky who is almost always drowning in school work and taking care of her mother, and for Maia who is prioritizing rebuilding her pack just like she said she would. 

And if things eventually settle down, and the two of them have more time for one another, well, Becky has been thinking of moving back to the city now that her mom is doing better, and Maia has been talking an awful lot about opening a diner now that things in the Shadow World have calmed down a bit… 

But that’s all some big ‘maybe’ in the future. For now, at least, they’re both perfectly content with what they have here and now. And wrapped up in Maia’s embrace on her last day of Spring Break, Becky knows just how lucky she is to have it.

[ptw30]

Regarding that post of "my friend told me dw is mad about the large female audience" whether that's true or not, what option do you think would be best for DW to take in this position? making another reboot where the messages and writing this audience hated so much can finally be fixed? so they can relaunch their merch and target it more towards women? Or maybe making this reboot more appealing to men and succed with their "boy toys" and "boy property"? (1/4)

Though i just see this last one failing miserably, they already tried it once and it didn’t work. I might be young (and correct me if i’m wrong) but fandom culture seems pretty female dominated to me? Like even people outside of the binary gender (a minority group in the current society) seem to overtake the few men who engaged in the fandoms I’ve been before. (2/4) 

It might be cause I only get into cartoon fandoms and that doesn’t appeal to adult men as much as it does to adult women, it might be cause of the misogynistic “ew! a crazy fangirl” view, probably fandoms are safe places for oppressed groups or they simply have different interests than mine. (¾)

I’m sure there’re more factors at play but whatever it is, DW is just wasting their time trying to appeal to a small part of their audience when they already had this large group (which is pretty diverse in gender and orientation) and they could win us back if they try. This shouldn’t be looked as a disappointment but more like an opportunity (um wtf DW??) But how do you think they should take that step? (srry for the rant, got some strong feelings about this) 

First, can I interest you in a cookie? Maybe get your mind off me writing an entire marketing plan for DreamWorks? 

Before we go into “boys property” - we need to note that brands don’t focus one target market.

When I headed four brands, each brand had primary, secondary, and even tertiary markets. For our main brand, we had six target segments, three primary. Did we care about the others? Yeah, but we didn’t highlight them half as much in marketing campaigns or collateral. 

That means that most likely, Voltron wasn’t a “boys” franchise, so much as one of the target markets DreamWorks wanted to hit were boys, ages 7 to 15. Their secondary market was probably older males who had seen the original series, and either a secondary or tertiary market was older female viewers who also watched DotU.

I need to note - I used to wear Voltron shirts all the time. When I wore VLD shirts, I heard from girls, generally 18-30. Almost all had a favorite character and knew the next season drop date.

When I wore DotU shirts, I heard from guys. When I asked the men, “Hey, do you like the new show?” every single one told me they’d never heard of it.

Now, fandom, as a whole, DreamWorks probably doesn’t care about. No, really. Fandom can make their fanart, celebrate the story, whatever floats their boat; DreamWorks doesn’t care. 

What DreamWorks cares about is sales. (They don’t even care about viewership if they’re distributing through Netflix because Netflix releases no numbers. All DW cares about is that Netflix orders more episodes.)

So are the toys selling? No. Then that’s not working. Are the shirts selling? Yeah? Oh, maybe we need to focus there. Who is buying the shirts?

But it’s actually hard to say for sure what’s working when all we know for sure is what’s not working. We can assume by the sudden increase in T-shirt stock on Hot Topic, especially those in women sizes, that these shirts are selling. We can also assume from Amazon having every single shirt in every single style - men, women, and children - that those shirts are selling. 

I can also tell you from my sister and mom’s holiday shopping experience that Hot Topic says they cannot keep VLD merchandise on the shelf. I’m not sure if that’s factual or just the ramblings of an overzealous seller. 

My point is - from the data we can see, we can assume that women are the majority viewership and it’s women with disposal income, 18-40, or so.

(I also want to note, I actually like the cut of a men’s shirts better.)

However, we don’t know that Voltron isn’t engaging with young male viewers, just that young male viewers seemingly aren’t buying merchandise. And as someone with at least seven different toys from VLD - I can tell you women are. 

So what does that mean for DreamWorks? 

There are a few factors that will determine what DreamWorks will do or has decided to do going forward. Most likely, they are going to want a variety of series, each one with a focused set of primary markets. So whether any new Voltron series will want to hit the “boys market” depends on if any other show in DreamWorks’ hopper is set to hit the boys’ market. I’m sure currently 3Below and potentially Fast & Furious are the supposed to hit those markets, so if they’re looking to making money on toy sales - well, F&F probably has the most potential. 

However, as @nomadicism can tell you in more detail, the toy market is effectively broken, and Voltron did suffer from distribution issues. (The videos from last year’s Toy Fair confirm this.) So I would need to see DreamWorks’ toy sales to know for sure if that’s even something worth pursuing. 

Ignoring that for just a moment - recent thought leadership in marketing is looking at agile delivery methods and strategies. Therefore, if DreamWorks stumbled upon a lucrative target market with disposal income, then yes - they should want to milk that and they should have the infrastructure to switch target markets and merchandise - not on a dime but in an acceptable time frame. And they have.  

However, as @sol1056 wrote earlier this week - it really depend on the person - or demographic - making the decisions, which will say whether marketing and merchandising will want to focus on women as a target market, despite or because of their monetary value. 

After all, Young Justice had a large female fanbase. That was the reason Cartoon Network cancelled the show, and from what I’ve seen from the Season 3 thus far, the EPs focused hard on trying to gain that male market they originally didn’t lure the first two seasons. In doing so, they lost me, at least, as a viewer. 

Going forward - what should DreamWorks do?

Young Justice just started streaming this month, so it’s hard to say if this darker turn will affect the story going forward. It’s hard to say if the darker start can’t be changed by a fulfilling ending to the season. What I can say is - Greg Weisman said earlier this week that the show hasn’t been greenlit for a fourth season. (It’s also on DCU, which no doubt has a smaller viewership than Netflix.)

While women dominate the fandom, the question remains - are they buying? If women really are shilling out dough for VLD merchandise (*looks at her Shiro shirts*), then DreamWorks execs should take notice and decide, “This is where we should throw our lot with any sequel.”

I can’t go much into details without getting too personal, but CEOs are beginning to create strategy from social media, thanks to Millennials. (That’s not to say that letters or calls to DreamWorks aren’t weighed more heavily because they are.)  Millennials want a personalized online experience. They want to engage with media on their own terms, an experience crafted toward their preferences, and they live with a mini-computer in their hands. They live on social media, though that, too, is dominated by women. 

But CEOs see social media posts as not having a filter, and though I have serious misgivings about taking social medias as the only source of research, I’m sure DreamWorks is doing or has done professional market research. They know what products are selling, whose buying them, and what these people want to see, in order to encourage them buy more. 

It’s telling that the only shirts ever produced for VLD, especially their newest ones - 

- all have the paladins and their symbols, after supposedly the lore was discarded after Season 2. 

Ignoring that the lore might be coming back - Marketing has created only a handful of new shirts post-Season 2 with a different paladin line-up - the majority of which were Monster & Mana designs and one shirt with Allura in the split screen. 

NOTHING AGAINST ALLURA. I just mean that seemingly, either merchandising doesn’t think post-Season 2 formations won’t sell or they tested in some way and know they won’t sell. Or they aren’t even willing to try, seeing the fandom backlash from later seasons. 

But if shirts are selling - and they appear to be, by the number of styles - are those numbers or projected numbers enough to forgo a “boys’ market” and focus all efforts on a primary target market of women? 

Considering DreamWorks already made the decision to make Hyperphase Voltron a con exclusive and go from selling less than twenty shirts on HT to more than 100 items, to go from selling few shirts on Amazon to uploading new ones in April and October 2018, and January 2019 - I think the question isn’t if DW should focus on women. 

That’s why I question the anon who said that DreamWorks is contemplating what to do with their series - since DreamWorks seems to have completed market research, selected a new primary target market, and made drastic changes to merchandising in order to reach that target market - women. 

Now, DreamWorks just need to focus on expanding that market, and how do they do that?

With new content that speaks to that market, or y’know, a fix-it sequel.  

[perylinsus]

Rant

Rant Contents-

Perming hair

Dyeing hair

Cutting hair

Getting piercings

Body weight

Tattoos

CONTAINS ENOUGH HATE AND UN-NEEDED CRITICISM TO LAST MILLIONS OF LIFE TIMES.

Okay, so this rant is gonna be weird as fuck, since it's about my hair and some piercings, but listen as I start talking about my hair. It's weird. It's straight somedays, curly on others, wavy on the others, and a combination of all three, though most of the time it's straight. It's also very, very, very thick and oily. Now, being in the end of my 3rd quarter of 8th grade, I keep telling people at school that I plan on getting a perm over the summer, since everyone is counting the days till then. But when I say perm, I mean tight-curls perm. Not even curls, more along the lines of coils. But everytime. Every. Single. Time. I say anything about getting a perm to someone with wavy/curly hair, they complain about how hard it is and how it'll be so much harder for me since; I'm not used to curly hair, my hair is too thick and/or my hair is super oily. All I want to do is turn and just fucking snap.

The only fucking reason my hair is straight and oily is because of the lice treatments I had to go through. I had those assholes all up on my head for 5 years straight. When I was a kid, I had to straighten my fucking hair everyday just to get it to cooperate. When I was a kid, I was fucking mistaken for a different race. My hair has always been thick, it was always silky and soft and it was in tight ass curls up until I was 5 or 6. I've experienced curly hair my entire life cause my step sister adopted triplet girls with hair that was on the verge of being kinky, but was still considered curly. I do their hair every fucking morning to this damn day. I have since they were adopted at 3 years old and that was 8 years ago. I was in my first year of having lice (I took precautions to make sure they didn't get lice. Luckily, it worked cause they never did).

I wanna fucking snap when people say to not get my hair permed into tight curls cause I won't be able to take care of them. I take care of curly hair every damn morning, 4 AM sharp, listening to babies cry when I only get 2 hours of sleep cause of my damn homework. Everything's good. I cope now, I will always fucking cope.

Two more factors make the complaining worse. Before I perm my hair, I'm getting it colored. Again, more complaining. Things like, "You'll damage your hair!" Or "Why would you color your hair, it's already so pretty." I might be doing two different colors, they might be bright and because of that, I have to bleach and color my hair. Don't get pissed because I don't wanna have basic brunette bitch hair like you (that's aimed at one person, not all brunettes. I luh u). I want to die my hair because I can. I'll perm my hair afterwards because my cousin, aunt and grandma, certified hair dressers, told me it was okay. I'm tryna live my life so back the fuck up.

Next thing, I wanna cut it, too. Before getting a perm, but after coloring it, I'm gonna try and get an undercut. More. Fucking. Complaining. "Sweetie, if you wanna color and cut your hair, you can't perm it. It'll look weird. I've tried it." Bitch. Does it look like I care about what you tried. You're pale, skinny and you have some fake ass lookin blonde hair. I am, on the other fucking hand, a delicious hunk of chubby Mexican (I'm trying to love myself more. Don't judge me). Me and you, we're completely different. I have an ass, some tits and some fat around my waist. You look like a sheet of horny construction paper (that shit feels weird...idk what y'all feel like, I swear). People may retaliate with;

"I'm not saying you'll be ugly, I'm saying curly hair and undercuts don't go well together." What if my main goal is to look ugly? To put shame to my last name (that rhymed bruh). Idgaf what you think. I'm cutting my hair, I'm coloring my hair and I'm perming this shit. I fucking live for coloring my hair, I've done it for the entirety of my middle school life. I miss having an undercut. Living in Florida with some dark ass, thick hair is hard, so the less hair, the easier my life (less shampoo and conditioner too). And my curly hair. I want that shit back. I didn't hate it then, but I also didn't love it, but. I. Want. It. Back.

So, with my hair, back tf up. Now some piercings.

My uncle does piercings for people. Yeah, total fucking pothead, but he's chill and good at his 3 steady jobs. He said, once I get old enough, he'd give me good quality piercings. Because we moved away from him, down to Florida (that was 5 years ago btw. I had ear piercings then. I also temporarily moved up to Michigan for like half a year, when he promised me), he hasn't given me my piercings yet. Over a video call, since he's overseas helping a friend move into a new house, he asked me what piercings I wanted so when he got back (I'd be halfway through my first quarter of freshman year) he could give me my piercings.

As many as I want, for no price at all. He's self employed so it's no problem, however my face/head area is all he'll do. I'm okay with it bc that's all I want. I tell him, with my bff and her bf sitting next to me. Her bf has his friend with him so he can hear me too, obviously. I say both ears and lips, possibly nose. My uncle says ok. He asks me what kind I'm considering for my ears. I say; standard lobe, upper lobe, helix and industrial. That's another ok. Then for my lips. I say; angel bites, snake bites, spider bites or shark bites. Again. Another okay. Then he asks for my nose. I say septum or nostril but the nose piercings weren't definitive. Again. That's okay.

My mom knows about this and she's okay with it. I'm my own person and what I choose to do needs to be dealt with by me. I face my mistakes, or I suffer. I choose to take some pretty bad ending risks but I learned. That's always been my lesson and it won't change. Face the consequences. My bff asks if she could get the same deal as I did. He says no but that he could lower the price significantly. She says okay, definitely happy, and her bf asks the same, getting the same response as my bff (he's cool with piercings. He had some. He just wants more). Now, my bff's bf's friend starts criticizing us, specifically me. We hate eachother so it was expected.

But this asshole. THIS ASSHOLE. Had the audacity to insult me on my choice of piercings. He's anti everything. Anti gays, anti abortion (this one is agreeable), anti Muslim, he's HORRIBLE (his personality filters into this. Believe what you want but if your personality is too evident in your opinion, DO NOT TALK TO ME. Especially if you're stuck up). I'm learning makeup atm so he goes down that road and calls me an ugly whore who deserves to die on the streets. Nice. But...same thing with the hair. I WILL DO WHATEVER I FUCKING WANT TO. IDGAF ABOUT YOUR OPINION. Don't criticize me because I want to get tons of piercings. He went down the path of racism, too, and called me a typical Hispanic bitch. Rebellious and dumb. I have nothing to say to this other than get tf out of my house. I turn to my friends and tell them if they agree with him to leave with him. They're actual friends so they stayed but he had to find his way home in the pouring rain. Don't be an ass to innocent people cause Karma's a bitch.

Anyway, I was called a hippy, spic, typical druggie, shitty person and retard (this word isn't taken lightly in my family. Don't call people that shit).

You know what, let's rant some more.

I'm a chunky motherfucker. I way well over 100 lbs but I ain't too close to 200. I'm almost 14 and I'm kinda short. Still growing, but short.

I have lots of body fat. Obese, depends on your definition of it. Fat, yes, but I can still rock some tight clothes better than anyone else. I've embraced my body fat. Yes, I'm currently researching healthy, lemme repeat, healthy ways to get rid of it, but I've embraced it and I now tell myself I'm cute whether people like it or not. It's strange since I've never done it before but it helps with depression.

Anyway, I'm chubby but I'm working on it. I need to glow up to rock my bullies' motherfucking worlds. This dude, idek who he was, comes up, calls me fat and walks away. I turn around and yell fuck you or fuck off or some shit like that. I'm making my way to class and this other kid trips me. When I hit the ground, he screams earthquake and runs.

I get up and walk my way to class like a civil person. Eventually, my mom, who works at my school, has to take me to the hospital cause I couldn't get up and leave my class at the end of the day. Why, you may ask? Well, I had;

minor whiplash

a sprained wrist

Scrapes on my knee that were so bad, they'll probably scar

My day sucked before that so it only got worse. Besides that, the whiplash is gone, my sprained wrist is healing nicely and it's just my knees that are still fucked up.

All that trouble because some bastard wanted to fuck with me cause I'm chubby. Stop being dicks everyone, unless that's your nickname.

Finally, the last topic. Tattoos. My other uncle, the twin brother of my piercings uncle, is a tattoo artist. Game addict, too, but, like, srsly, unhealthily addicted.

Anyway, if I can't do college, I have a guaranteed spot as a tattoo designer in his parlor. I'm trying to plan for college so it might not happen but, you never know. Besides that, he gave me a deal. As many tattoos as I want, for no price. All because I'm his only blood niece.

I said hell fucking yeah (I got a shoe thrown at me for it). He said as long as I designed them, he'd give me them. Okay, not too bad since I'm a 14 year old with college level art. First, though, I had to tell him what type I wanted. I said I wanted tribal, illustrative and possibly neo traditional.

I have designs for my illustrative tattoos. One for each important person in my life. My older brother, my younger brother, my mom, my grandma, my bff and my 1st dog. I was gonna try and do one for my husband/wife when and if I get married but I was warned about tattooing names of people I'm not related to on my body. Again, I might still do it. Anyway, those are for my illustrative tattoos. Then, comes my tribal tattoos.

I plan on asking my bestfriend and my mom to choose from a set of Moon Glyphs, which symbols best represent me. Whichever common ones they choose, will be hidden in a tribal tattoo on my ribcage. I also want a tribal on the top of my forearm and a tribal band around my bicep. I may just get arrows on the inside of my other forearm.

Neo traditional will probably be a worn down banner with flowers that has a saying in it. In another language, most likely, but there'll be a saying.

Anyway, I told my uncles this and my tattoo artist uncle said he was perfectly okay with it. My mom was chill with it, too, so everything was good. Until my great grandmother got ahold of the information. So many vulgarities.

Anyway, don't be a shithead when it isn't necessary. Let people learn from their own mistakes when said mistakes are revocable.

Luv ya and thanks for reading.

[scriptura-adrepticius]

Saudade - Han Mubo

Angsty mood --> angsty fic

I’m good at chemistry, I know that that’s a valid reaction

fucking fight me

Pairing: Han Mubo x reader

Genre: angst, father!au 

Triggers: death, cancer

Word Count: 3k

Saudade (Portuguese): a longing for someone you love but have lost; the love that remains.

Mubo knows you’re a fighter. But some battles cannot be won.

Masterlist

aksjdgh why am i doing this to him

Three words can change a life.

. . . . .

“You have cancer.”

Mubo blinks.

You squeeze his hand.

He blinks again.

Your face is pale.

He blinks again.

The words sink in.

He blinks again.

No way.

Please, no.

Mubo panics. His throat closes up, and tears prick at his eyes. But he forces himself to breathe.

“Is there any chance at all that it could be something else?” Mubo asks, swallowing. He squeezes your hand back, hoping against hope for even the tiniest possibility of it not being… that.

Please.

The doctor shakes his head, and that’s when Mubo’s world comes crashing down.

. . . . .

Cancer.

Mubo never wants to hear that word again.

He has to leave your son with the OACA boys while you sit with the doctor for too many appointments to count. He has to accept the condolences of all the people he knows. He has to keep up a brave face. He has to wipe his tears. He has to try and figure out just how to tell your son what’s going on, why you’re never home, why you’re always in that clean room and not with him at home.

All because of those three words.

There are so many horrible things he’s had to do because of those three words.

But by far the worst thing those words have forced him to do is cut your hair.

It’s your last day home before you move into the hospital long term. Your things are already packed up and Mubo hates it. He hates the emptiness of your bookshelf, its contents having been taken to the hospital to keep you occupied. He hates the lone suitcase standing in the corner of the room. He hates the fact that the scent of your perfume is already fading from the house.

When you walk up to him, holding out the hair-cutting kit, Mubo almost loses it right then and there.

You continue to look at him, your once-bright eyes somber, as you press the kit into his hands. “Mubo,” you whisper, your voice quiet and almost unrecognizable from your usual fiery tone, “I’d rather you do it than anyone else.”

He grasps the kit loosely, unable to respond from the lump in his throat. He simply nods, motioning for you to sit. You do so, and after wrapping a towel around your neck, he picks up the shears with shaking fingers.

He takes a deep breath. He steadies his hand.

Clumps of hair fall to the ground, ringing your feet as the shears buzz. At some point Mubo realizes he’s crying, but you don’t flinch as the tears drop on your head.

All of your hair is gone. All of the lovely hair that he used to card his hands through as you read a book on his lap. All of the lovely strands that he pressed kisses into just before you fell asleep. All of the lovely locks that framed your face and covered your son’s head when you hugged him.

Zixi comes home, dropped off by Qin Fen, who doesn’t say anything about your lack of hair. However, your son has no such filter, so he simply asks, “What happened to Mama’s hair?”

Mubo swallows, kneeling down to be face to face with his son. “You know your mama is sick, right?”

Zixi nods.

“The treatment she’s going to go through will make her lose her hair,” Mubo says. “Rather than go through that, she decided to shave her hair before.”

You kneel down next to Mubo, gazing up at your son.

Zixi is thinking. Mubo knows that because he has on the same expression you wear when you think. He finally nods.

“Mama still looks as beautiful as before,” he says resolutely.

The tears well up in Mubo’s eyes, but he manages to hold them back until you pull Zixi into a hug.

Then, he lets them fall.

. . . . .

Mubo hates the hospital.

He hates it.

It’s a battleground, full of patients fighting for their lives against the illnesses, the diseases, the disorders that plague them. When he enters the building each day, he’s assaulted by the pristine neatness of the place, by the scrubbed floors and polished windows, by the cheerful pictures displayed on the walls.

Your room is painted with pale blues and greens, colors that soothe Mubo yet make him sadder. They are calming colors, but he would almost rather be angry. Angry at the hospital. Angry at the diagnosis. Angry at the tumor. Angry at the world.

You lie on the bed, holding his hand loosely as you listen to him talk about his day. You listen to his stories about the OACA boys, about how Zimo did this and Peiyao did that. How Qin Fen finally brought a girl home. How Zuo Ye went out with Xukun and Ziyi.

He tells you that Zixi got a perfect score on his math test, that his teachers are asking him if he would be okay with Zixi doing higher level things while his classmates continue with their lessons. He tells you that Zixi is just like you, only gentler and quieter, which makes you stick out your tongue and laugh.

He tells you that Zixi, when asked by a classmate who the prettiest girl in the world was, replied, “My mama.”

You tear up at that, trying uselessly to stop them from falling. Instead of teasing like he would have a year ago, however, Mubo simply holds your hand, brushing away the tears with his thumb. When they don’t stop, he sits on the bed, holding you close until the shuddering cries stop.

. . . . .

A year passes in this manner. Hospital bills begin to eat away at your savings, but there’s nothing Mubo can do about it.

Every day, you grow weaker. Your skin gets paler, your eyes more tired. Still, you keep up a brave front, holding Zixi close whenever he comes to visit, smiling at the OACA boys when they show up as well.

Friends and family come in and out of the room, leaving flowers, cards, small presents. At the end of each day, Mubo arranges them carefully on the tables and windowsills, knowing how much you hate disorganization.

Mubo stays every day until visiting hours are over. He still goes to the company, he still works, but every minute that he isn’t, he’s in the hospital. He watches you as you sleep, wondering why the world would tear you two apart like this.

You’re fighting. Mubo knows you are, knows that every day is a struggle but that you’re doing your best to get through it. Mubo knows you, knows that you would never go down without a fight, knows that it was never in your nature to give up.

He knows, because you were the one that fought the company. He knows, because you were the one that protected yourself from the fans when they came after you. He knows, because you fought for your relationship. Because you fought for him. 

He knows, because he knows you. He knows your fierceness. He knows your bravery. He knows your confidence, your boldness, your determination.

But he also knows you can’t win every battle.

The chemotherapy doesn’t help. Instead, it only weakens you further. It hurts Mubo to see you gritting your teeth in pain when the headaches don’t go away.

Nothing is helping.

Why, he wants to scream, why do you have to be cut away from the relationship you worked so hard for?

Zixi sits on his lap, staring solemnly at his mother with his big eyes. You hold out your arms to him, smiling tiredly, and he eagerly crawls into the bed with you, snuggling into your side.

Mubo watches the scene quietly.

This should be happening at home.

Zixi soon falls asleep, and there’s a long silence until you speak.

“Mubo,” you whisper, “I’m not going to make it.”

Mubo’s throat constricts, and he swallows uncomfortably. “Please,” he whispers, clutching your hand tighter. “Don’t say things like that.”

You smile sadly. Mubo wants to tear his eyes out because that smile is nothing like the one you wore when you were healthy. Mischievous twinkles and loud laughs have dwindled into tired tilts of your mouth and slight amusement in your eyes.

“When I go, Mubo,” you continue, “move on. You must.”

The tears are pricking at Mubo’s eyes, and you shift around on the bed to make space for him. He sits down, letting you pull him close.

“What if I don’t want to?” he whispers childishly.

You huff, rolling your eyes slightly in amusement before turning serious again. “You must, Mubo,” you repeat. “For yourself. For Zixi. For the boys.” You swallow. “For me.”

Mubo says nothing, simply holding you and Zixi close.

“Mubo.” Your tone is insistent, refusing to relent. “Promise me.”

He struggles to speak, struggles to free his throat from this constricting ball of emotion that’s clogging every breath.

“Mubo.” Your voice breaks that lump that’s keeping him from speaking.

He swallows, feeling the tears well up again. “I promise,” he whispers.

“Pinky promise?” You hold up your pinky, careful not to bump any wires or wake Zixi up.

A shaky laugh bubbles from Mubo’s lips, and he hooks your finger with his. “Pinky promise,” he says.

A contented, joyful smile spreads across your face, reminding him so much of the lively woman he married years ago. “Thank you.”

“You know I would do anything for you, right?” Mubo says, raising an eyebrow.

“Would you walk through fire for me?” you ask teasingly.

“Anything,” he breathes, sealing your lips with a kiss.

. . . . .

Papery skin, dull eyes, weak breaths. It’s a struggle for Mubo to watch you breathe, a struggle for him to even bring Zixi into the room because he doesn’t want his son’s innocence to be tarnished by pain and death so early in his life.

But Zixi insists, and Mubo knows that he can’t keep his son away from his mother. And Zixi is an angel. He’s quiet, obedient, and simply watches you with wide eyes.

Both of them are in the room on that final day. Zixi is on Mubo’s lap, telling his mother about something new that happened at school. Mubo watches you, watches the contented expression on your face as you listen, watches the love in your eyes as you gaze at your son.

His heart aches.

Zixi’s story is finally over, and he clutches his mother’s hand in silence, gazing into your eyes solemnly. You smile weakly, reaching up to caress his face. Mubo helps you struggle into sitting position, and you place a kiss on Zixi’s forehead.

“I love you, Zixi,” you whisper, holding your son’s face in your hands.

“I love you too, Mama,” he says back without blinking an eye before pressing a kiss of his own to his mother’s cheek.

Mubo’s heart is already fragile, and he feels like it’s about to crack right then and there as you lie down again, unable to sit for long.

An hour passes as you drift in and out of consciousness, then two, and Zixi falls asleep. Mubo is left to listen to your irregular breaths as your heartbeat grows weaker and weaker.

For a moment, your eyes open, and you gaze at Mubo with a startling fire he hasn’t seen since you were hospitalized. “Mubo,” you say, your voice strong, your eyes intense, “remember your promise.”

He swallows, then nods. “I will,” he says back, gazing deep into your eyes, your beautiful eyes that he fell in love with. “I promise.”

It hurts to say this, hurts to knowa that he will eventually have to let you go, but a promise is a promise and he knows that he must keep it.

“For Zixi,” he murmurs. “For the boys. For me.” He lifts your hand to kiss it. “And for you.”

Your eyes close, your body relaxes, but the smile on your lips is unmistakable.

Another hour passes. Your heart continues to get weaker. Mubo continues to watch.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I always will.”

He doesn’t expect you to answer, so he’s startled when your lips move slightly. “I love you too,” you murmur, so softly he almost doesn’t hear. “I will be with you, always.”

Mubo drops a last, light kiss on your forehead, then on your lips. The faint smile on your face grows slightly wider.

He holds your hand tight, watching the life drain from your body. He fights back his tears, watching the heart monitor go flat. He bites his lip hard, watching the nurses run into the room. He watches them pronounce your time of death, watches your hand being ripped from his grasp, watches you being carried away.

Wordlessly, carrying Zixi, he walks out of the room, telling the nurse he will come tomorrow to pick everything up. He’s pretty sure that isn’t proper protocol, but she sees his blank eyes and haggard face and relents easily. He straps Zixi into the car, then drives home.

The house is dark, empty, and unwelcoming when he unlocks the door. He flips on the light, but it doesn’t help. The light only illuminates the room, making it seem much larger than it is, making him fully realize that your laughter will never grace the halls again. That your perfume will no longer scent the air. 

That you will never come back.

Zixi is on the sofa, Mubo having laid him there when they arrived home. He sits up, awake, and looks at his father with the bright, intelligent eyes that he inherited from you.

There’s a silence.

“Mama isn’t coming back, is she?” he finally asks.

Mubo can’t stop the tear that drips down his cheek as he sits on the sofa next to his son.

“No,” he whispers, voice broken. “She isn’t coming back.”

Zixi thinks for a moment, then nods. And then, looking smaller than ever, he reaches his hands out to his father.

The tears come quickly as Mubo holds his son close, allowing Zixi’s tears to soak into his shirt. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care how much time passes. All he knows is that he is crying, his son is crying, and that you are never coming back.

Father and son hold each other in the dark hours of the night, mourning the untimely loss of the woman who brought them so much joy.

. . . . .

- Three months later -

Mubo stares at the object in his hand, remembering what the nurse had told him.

“She told me to give it to you if she didn’t make it,” she says, her calm voice trembling slightly. “Open it only when you feel like giving up.”

And Mubo has never felt more like giving up.

He swallows, eyes boring holes into the small flash drive lying on his palm. His gaze flickers to his laptop, and as though in a trance, he walks over, turns it on, and plugs the flash drive in.

Long seconds pass as he waits for the drive to load. When it does, he takes a deep breath, then clicks to view the files on it.

Two videos. One is named “Han Mubo.” The other is named “Han Zixi.”

He hesitates, the cursor hovering over the one labelled with his name. Then, unable to stand it anymore, he clicks it.

You pop up on the screen, smiling, eyes tired, but as beautiful as he always remembered. 

Mubo almost exits the window right then and there. But something, he doesn’t know what, brings his hand away from the mouse.

“Mubo,” you say, “if you’re watching this… it means I didn’t make it.” You pause for a moment, adjusting the blankets on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” you continue, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry, Mubo.”

“Please don’t be,” he whispers, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. “It’s not your fault.”

“But I know what you’re probably saying right now,” you say, laughing slightly. “‘Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.’”

Mubo smiles through the tears clouding his vision. “You knew me so well,” he murmurs.

“But that won’t stop me from being sorry.” You scratch your forehead, a rueful smile on your face. “I’m sorry that I had to leave you this early. I’m sorry that Zixi will grow up without his mother.”

There’s a short silence, and then you continue.

“It’s been… what, six years since we got married?” You laugh a little. “Time flies. I just... I want you to know that I don’t regret any of it. I hope you feel the same.”

I do.

I do.

Oh, I do.

“I want you to know…” You swallow again. “I want you to know that just because I’m not there with you in person, I will never truly have left you. I’ll always be with you, Mubo, to guide you every step of the way. But remember your promise too, and move on, alright? Don’t let me or Zixi be your last love.”

“Why,” Mubo chokes, “why do you have to be so selfless?” It doesn’t matter to him that he’s talking to a computer screen. He only cares about the words you’re saying, and how they’re hitting his heart.

“I love you, Mubo,” you whisper, brushing a tear from your eye. “I love you and Zixi. Never forget that. And never let him forget that either, okay? Watch the other video with him when you feel he needs it, alright?”

Mubo nods wordlessly, wiping the tears from his face.

“I love you,” you say again. “I always will.”

And the video ends.

Mubo remains seated, unable to move after watching the video. Unable to move after seeing you again for the first time in months.

The pain in his heart is still there, and he doesn’t think it will ever truly heal. You left your mark on him, and that mark will never fade. In fact, he’s glad for the pain, because it ensures that he will never forget you.

“I promise,” he whispers, “that I will move on. For Zixi. For the boys. For me.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, recalling that last day. “And for you.”

Zixi comes home to see his father crying on his chair, uselessly wiping his face as the tears continue to trickle down. Wordlessly, he climbs onto his father’s lap and hugs him.

Together, they watch the second video in silence. And when it ends, neither of them have dry eyes.

They hold each other tight, Zixi’s tiny hands clutching Mubo’s shirt, Mubo’s large hands covering his son’s back, but for the first time in a while, things feel… better.

Not okay, not good, but better.

Mubo smiles faintly.

At least it’s a start.

[thegoopies]

Scottish Wake Up Call

Rafe has you helping him in Scotland at St. Dismas Cathedral, but one night you take a load off in a nearby town and Rafe is not pleased with you, at first. Then cue his sudden realization he has while picking your drunk self up.

Words: 2752

A/N: First request! and by anonymous. This dialogue drabble (lmao it’s a little long for a drabble, I got carried away) is 33. “I cannot guarantee that I’m not drunk.” Also, even though I wrote these prompts I still had trouble writing this one for some reason, so I’m sorry if some parts don’t feel like they smoothly fit. 

P.S. here’s the link to the dialogue list: https://thegoopies.tumblr.com/post/172740605658/112-dialogue-prompts-requests-open-for-uncharted

Life after Sam’s death was never the same. For so long your wagon had been hitched to the Drake brothers’, but it dissolved almost as quickly as it all started. After Nate had finally called it quits in Scotland and working with Rafe, things felt a tad bit apathetic. You had lost your lust for the treasure and the chase it gave. You weren’t sitting on the edge of your seat in life anymore, instead, you had a painful reminder to think about every day. But you couldn’t leave. How were you supposed to return to a normal life without your crazy boys constantly leading you into trouble? Without the threat of jail time or a bullet in the back? You decided biding your time with Rafe was a good enough option seeing as it felt the closest to old times as your life could get now. Even though he drove you crazy and he you, he was something you clung to, even if you used him to lash out against due to your pain, it was still something.

And speaking of that something, today had been a particularly rough one. With no leads, only dead ends being searched, and the overwhelming feeling to throw yourself off the cliffside that St. Dismas rested on, you and Rafe had taken it out on each other. Sure, you were no stranger to the occasional yelling match when dealing with this lifestyle, but it seemed to never end today. And was it just you or were you losing your voice over it? None the matter, as you had stomped off the sight, an irate Adler screaming after you to come back, you decided to blow off a little steam once you spotted his Jeep parked on the muddy ground a little ways away from the cathedral.

So here you were, stolen car parked in the lot of a hole in the wall pub while dodging constant phone calls from your soon-to-be-murderer/business partner. Things were going great.

“I have halfa mind to toss that stupid shit in my beer, girl if that means it’ll stop rattlin’ around like that.” Shaken out of your stupor (a.k.a you are staring at your phone screen and realizing you were digging your own grave as Rafe called again and again), you looked at the man sitting beside you at the bar. You could tell he was no nonsense and of the generation that really hated technology for some reason, as if it wasn’t the greatest thing since sliced bread. You realized leaving it on the bar top wasn’t the best idea, so you grabbed it and slipped it into your jeans back pocket.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, a little embarrassed. You took a swig of your beer to try and not seem awkward as he continued staring. You ran your tongue against your teeth after you swallowed, the beer was very different from American ales, tasting more like grass and having a higher alcohol content that you knew would soon have you spinning.

“Are you with the Americans up the hill at St. Dismas?” He asked, eyes boring into you as if he was reading your mind. What a feeling.

“How’d you know?” You asked, raising the beer to your lips again. It was starting to lose the dirt flavor as the alcohol started to hit you, making everything taste dull. He made a snort/huff combo as if the answer was obvious.

“It’s easy to tell when ya on yer third beer and wobbling like that.” There was something about his frankness that made you laugh. Compared to Rafe this guy was a ray of sunshine. 

“Well, nice to meet you. I’m the American who can’t handle her European beers and you are?” You held out your hand loosely, feeling at ease joking around with him. He met your hand with a firm grip, pumping his calloused palm three times.

“Walter Caird.” He said gruffly while returning his hand back to cradling his beer.

“Believe it or not, I’m starting to think you’re the only friend I’ll make here in Scotland.” You said with a smile and a rueful thought about Rafe, the beer definitely lowering a few inhibitions, like a filter that kept you out of trouble. In reply he gave you a look that should have set you on fire right where you sat.

“Right.” You said, turning away from him. Very no nonsense indeed.

It was only about two hours later when you checked your phone again. You had gotten swept up in your people watching and small talk as more and more locals filled the pub, stopping in after their work day to shout loudly as they noticed their friends were already there even though they had probably seen them yesterday. And the day before that, and so on. But you still had your pal Walter sitting next to you, quietly drinking and partaking in conversation when a neighbor showed up to clap him on the shoulder and ask about his day. It was nice. He at least didn’t yell at you like Rafe, you’d take his silent judgement any day.

Holding your phone in hand, you noticed it was a little harder to focus on the screen, the small print taking a lot more work to process as your vision swam. Feeling the pulsing urge to pee again, you decided to finally get up and go to the bathroom, knowing full that well that once you opened the floodgates you’d be peeing every five minutes, but oh well. You stumbled a little hopping off the bar stool as everything seemed to tilt just a little bit. You gripped the bar top until your knuckles turned white and you stared at Walter silently as you tried to gather yourself.

“Well?” He asked.

“Can you tell I’m drunk?” You asked. Standing made you feel like throwing up, you regretted this.

“Very much so.” Walter didn’t even bother to continue looking at you as he went back to drinking. Staring straight ahead.

“Pfft.” You said under your breath and waved your hand at him before taking off on your journey. The small building was packed, people walking to their tables and booths, waitresses buzzing around, people milling about, blocking your access to the bathroom. It was all a little too much as you not-so-politely pushed through the crowd, earning some stares then being forgotten about as they shrugged it off and continued their conversations. Finally reaching the women’s bathroom you almost slammed into the door in your need. Once you finally opened it though, it seemed just a little bit too heavy, you realized relief was not going to happen soon. The line was cramped into the small room, ladies chatting quickly in their thick accents, overwhelming you as they leaned against the walls and waited. Exerting little energy over the fact that their bladders were about to burst from the all that they had drank.

You felt like screaming. Finding an open space to stand in, you leaned against the cinder block wall and focused on the pale pink color it was sloppily painted in. Sharpie covered the walls, full of young girls (and some guys’ penmanship, you noticed) handwriting about being there and falling in love or something. Everything felt a little too sticky due to poor ventilation in the tiny, damp room, but you couldn’t find an iota to care. Your bladder was shouting and you were listening. Suddenly, you were distracted by your phone vibrating in your pocket and you remembered. Rafe. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and stared at the screen for a couple of seconds trying to decipher the blob that you were staring at, you jostled with the group as more girls entered the room and tried to fit in, but you never took your eyes away.

“You alright?” The girl standing to your left asked, staring at you as if there was something incredibly wrong.

“What does this say?” You asked a little too loudly while shoving your phone in her face. She jerked her head back a little and blinked to combat the sudden brightness.

“Rafe Adler.” She said, not at all blindsided by your actions.

“Oh boy.” You squeaked.

“Boyfriend?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. You just stared at her with a dumbstruck expression.

“Here, I got it.” And before you could do anything she had taken your phone out of your hand and answered the call. The first thing she did was scrunch her face in reaction to what Rafe was saying, they probably weren’t great things.

“Calm down, mate.” You kept staring, what were you supposed to do? How could you even do anything in your dizzy, cotton mouth state? “Your girl’s right here with me.” You heard a pause on his end, then muted noise. He was probably demanding who she was.

“Me? I’m a friend.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, here she is.” She handed the phone back to you and you took it in shaky hands. “Good luck with that one.” She said before turning away from you and back to her friends. The line started moving, but you didn’t notice. Hesitantly you put the phone up to your ear.

“So, where’s my girlfriend at?” Rafe asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but you didn’t catch it. You just felt your blood running cold through your body.

“Rafe.” You said quietly.

“Yes?” You blanked, then decided to say the stupidest thing you had ever said to him in your entire life.  

“I really have to pee.” You heard him laugh, it was like a bark, sudden and loud and definitely not what you were expecting.

“Where are you?” He asked.

“In the bathroom.”

“No,” you could feel him rubbing at his face through the phone. “Where did you drive MY Jeep to?”

“Oh.” You were a bit toned down as you talked, feeling a little overwhelmed you zoned out, staring at the floor and blinking. Where were you again?

“Y/n?” You focused back on the conversation at hand.

“I drove into town and then I just kinda stopped at the first little place I saw.” You said. “But don’t worry I can drive the car back, you really don’t have to do anything. It’ll be like I never took it.” You rambled.

“No, it’s fine. Stay there, I don’t need your drunk ass crippling yourself and my Jeep.” It’s fine? Fine? You had never once heard anything like that come from Rafe before. Why the sudden act of charity?

“Oh,” you repeated. “I guess I can do that.” He chuckled, his breath making the phone quality crackle a little. He was enjoying this more naïve side of you. The one that wasn’t constantly breathing down his neck. “But it’s not because I’m drunk, I swear.”

“Yeah?” You paused, pursing your lips in concentration. Rafe finding you drunk really wasn’t the best thing, but you were way past the point of trying to lie about it.

“Well…I cannot guarantee that I’m not drunk.”

“I know. I’ll be there soon.” You stayed on the line, losing focus and standing in silence as you tried to wrap your mind around the situation. He sighed on his end.

“Just hang up and piss, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

 Once you had peed, you wandered back into the bar. Unfortunately, someone had taken your stool, so you tried your best to stay propped up against the back wall, falling into the crowd and feeling that overwhelming feeling again like you were going to be swallowed up by it. Wave after wave of people passed by you, accidentally bumping into you, but ignoring your arms scrambling for a secure spot to hold yourself with.

Soon though, you heard your name mingle with the noise of the crowd. Someone was calling out for you. Pushing off from the wall you stumbled your way forward, catching your footing and trying to maintain a normal walking pace. While being drunk was fun, you hated acting like it. You knew how embarrassing you could get, and it made you cringe the next morning.

“Y/n.” You spun around to find Rafe, looking a lot calmer than you expected. In fact, he had a smirk on his face rather than the usual frown you had seen lately. Oh god, he was going to mock you to no end about this.

“Hi.” You said, eyes wide and ears ready to hear some yelling.

“C’mon, let’s go.” He wrapped an arm around your back, his hand gripping onto the back of your left arm as he led you out of the pub. You stumbled slightly at his fast pace, but every time he caught you, easing you back into his arm. Leading you outside you shivered in the cold; did you have your jacket? You couldn’t remember, and you really didn’t care as Rafe tucked you into his side more to block the cold. He felt so warm and you relished in it, snuggling into him slightly. You glanced at him from your peripheral, gauging his reaction. He didn’t, so you took it as a good sign.

Suddenly, though, you were on the ground, gravel biting into your arms as you tried to brace yourself. How graceful. Above you you heard Rafe laugh before he was reaching out to you. Groaning you grabbed his hand and he hauled you up. He held you in front of him, large hands gripping your cold arms and a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t stop your own smile and incredulous laugh.

“The first time I see you smile in months and it’s because I ate ass.” You say, laughing a little still. He rolled his eyes at you, but chuckled. You bit your lip, sucking it between your teeth. “I guess it proves that you still hate me though.” You added, what was that about keeping your filter while sober? He scoffed, rolling his eyes again.

“Who said I hated you?”

“I think you did last week when you were yelling at me about not find“

“Okay, okay.” He said, cutting you off. “I know I’m a dick, but I don’t hate you.” You pursed your lips again, super deep thought mode activated. He glanced down at your lips. “You’re basically my best friend at this point based on how much time we spend together.”

“Forced to spend together.” You chimed in, he frowned.

“Hey, you could leave at any time you want. You know that.” It was your turn to roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, like you wouldn’t hunt me down if I did. You need me.” You said cockily. “Without me, you’d be helpless, who else can handle you as their business partner.”

He cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“Sure, I need you.” Hearing the words come from his mouth silenced you. It was sobering, kinda, of course. Your intoxicated brain switched the wires a little as you interpreted what he said.

“You do?” You whispered, eyes wide again and giving him an innocent look that hit him right in the gut. He had never felt that before, especially with you. He swallowed thickly, then licked his dry lips. Slowly, he brought his hand up to your face and brushed a stray strand of hair that had fallen on your face. He tucked it behind your ear, but that simple movement made your whole world stop. You glanced at his hand as he then rested it against your neck, cupping gently.

 “I think I do.” He said before pulling you in for a kiss. His lips were a little chapped from the cold weather, but other than that you only felt heat. The kiss was warm and slow, and when he pulled you against him it felt like a flush spread from deep down in your stomach. You knew your cheeks were already red, but you didn’t care. You moved your hands to his hair, twisting the dark strands between your fingers, pulling gently. You moaned a little when his hands suddenly found your ass, gripping tightly.

He was the first one to pull away, a light gasp coming from him as he caught his breath. His eyes were dark and devouring you. You stared up at him, breathless and completely blown away with your lips a little puffy from the kiss. He liked the look of your eyes looking up at him in wonder rather than staring daggers at him.

“Yeah, I need you.” He repeated.