#I truly posted quality stuff back in the day

[strangersmunsons]

bark at the moon

there's something suuuuper weird in your garage. your best friend Robin calls up her old pals, Steve and Eddie, to come and take a look.

Contains: Eddie x Fem!Reader. Mix of canon & Modern AU, w/ tweaks to established lore (faithfulness to the source material? I don’t know her). Plot of the show is more or less the same, but focus will be on minor threats escaping from the Upside Down, and no more. Everyone is aged up a bit, timeline of events is kept vague. Reader learns some secrets that are tough to wrap her head around, Eddie is an awkward sweetheart, and platonic!Stobin reigns supreme. Word Count: ~8.1k Warnings: Some brief descriptions of gore. Reader has a mild panic attack. Mentions of food & eating. Strong language. I've been tinkering away at this fic since the summer; it's a little different than the sweet & fluffy stuff I normally post, but I had a blast writing it! So I hope you guys enjoy! 🩷

“Call me when you get home, okay?”

“I will.” You smack a kiss to Robin’s cheek and push your stool back against the bar. “Try not to get into too much trouble tonight. It’s only Thursday.”

“No promises,” Vickie chimes in, grinning toothily at you, cheeks flushed from a mix of joy and booze. 

“I mean it.” You jab a finger in her direction, only half-jokingly. “If you FaceTime me again at 3 AM so I can provide ‘emotional support’ while you’re puking your guts out in the bathroom, I’m hanging up.”

Vickie doesn’t even blink. “You won’t hang up,” she replies dismissively.

She’s totally right, but you don’t say so.

“Just try and keep your insides where they belong, please. They should be, y’know — on the inside. Alright? I love you both. Goodnight!” You blow another dramatic kiss in their direction as you saunter out of the bar, weaving between sticky tables over the even-stickier floor to the exit. 

Lizzy’s is you, Robin, and Vickie’s favorite haunt, a nondescript dive bar located on the outskirts of town. It’s a squat, dingy little building tucked neatly away into a thicket of trees at the deadend of a backroad. There’s no neighbors or rival businesses in sight, just a small parking lot with a defunct telephone booth that probably hasn’t worked in several decades. The bar is usually only frequented by patrons belonging to one of two exclusive sects: members of the local biker gang, and this random lesbian couple and their one friend. 

Truly a hidden gem.

Happy Hour at Lizzy’s has been a tradition for you and Robin (and Vickie, when she chooses to tag along) since you met at work retreat a year ago. When you caught sight of her funky patched-up blazer and choppy hairstyle, you immediately clocked her as the other youngest, coolest person in the room and forced your friendship upon her in the name of survival. Who else were you gonna hang out with for an entire weekend — Matt from HR who, ironically, was on probation for sending a coworker unsolicited dick pics? No way.

“Hey, can you hold the other side of my bag open for me? I’m gonna jam these cookies in there — quickly, while no one’s looking.”

Two peas in a pod, stealing extra goodies from the complimentary snack table and gossiping in the back row during presentations when you should’ve been listening. You’ve been attached at the hip ever since.

Full of mirth from the quality time spent with your best friend, you hum cheerfully to yourself as you push through the exit and step outside. The door whacks shut behind you, closing you off from the bar’s warm interior, and immediately, you take notice of two things.

First, you’re met with a surprising chill in the air. It’s been pretty temperate so far this week, and  pleasantly warm earlier in the day, but it’s become startlingly cold in the mere hours you were inside the bar. You swear you can see a frozen puff of breath each time you exhale. You hug your arms around yourself, frowning slightly. Gravel crunches under your feet as you walk to your car.

The second thing you notice is that it’s obscenely dark out. A single orange streetlamp flickers in the parking lot, illuminating little more than the fluttering moths bashing themselves stupidly into the bulb. There’s no moon in the black-velvet sky; it’s just a blanket of darkness above. You glance at the watch on your wrist, but the time is indiscernible without proper lighting. I guess it’s later than I thought?

The hairs stand up on the back of your neck. There’s a gross, inexplicable feeling of nakedness as you cross the lot; the cold, unexpected dark and loss of time has you feeling disoriented and exposed. Naturally, your mind begins dredging up scenes from every horror movie you’ve ever watched, and you pick up the pace. Reaching the car, you wrench open the driver-side door, eager to be within the safe confines of the vehicle.

You slide in, and release a relieved breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. Slumping back against the seat, you think, Man, I gotta lay off the slasher flicks.

The moment doesn’t last long. Another bolt of paranoia suddenly shoots through you — you whip your head around, searching the backseat for a killer lurking in the shadows, waiting to slice your throat open, possibly with a machete, or maybe even a hook attached to a stumpy wrist.

Nothing there. Totally empty. Not even an extremely trim, flexible murderer contorting themselves out of view down on the cramped floor space.

“It’s fine,” you say aloud to no one in particular, turning forward again. You start the car and ease out of the lot, switching the radio to a pop station — your last line of defense. No one ever got brutally murdered while listening to Britney. 

Thankfully, the ride is uneventful, and nobody pops up behind you with any instruments of violence. The further you get into town, with its familiar lights and gentle hum of nighttime traffic, the more at ease you feel. Your mind drifts, thinking of work, what you’ll make for dinner tomorrow, whether or not Vickie will be throwing up within the next hour. Any mundane topic that’ll help calm your nerves.

Eventually you reach home and pull into the garage. It’s a miracle you can even still park in there, it’s so full of junk — old furniture and hardware tools and odds and ends you haven’t had the energy to try and sort through.

A sigh escapes as you cross the threshold that separates the garage from the house. The sweet, homey kitchen is a welcome sight to enter. You put a kettle on for a cup of tea before bed, and decide to dial Robin while you wait for the water to boil.

She picks up after several rings.

“Hello my love.”

“Hi Rob. I’m alive.”

“Oh, good. That would’ve been awkward if it was someone else calling me.”

“Are you still at the bar?” 

“Yeah, we’re leaving in a few. Vickie says she’s fine, but she’s got that look in her eye, so…”

There’s a faint “I am fine!” in the background and you snicker. “Good luck with that.”

Robin snorts. “Thanks. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Robin bids you goodnight, and you feel a rush of affection for her. Your roommate recently moved out to go live with her boyfriend, leaving you as the sole tenant of the house. Although you reassured her endlessly that you had no issues living alone, Robin was insistent on constantly checking up on you lest you ‘get SVUed’ — her phrasing, not yours.

The kettle starts whistling, and you pour the steaming water into a mug with a bag of chamomile. You plop down on the soft cushion tied to the kitchen chair, letting the weariness of the day settle in your bones. 

You scroll idly through your phone while sipping your tea, ignoring the slight burn it leaves on your lips and tongue. The old house settles and creaks while you relax, making those soft noises that you’ve become accustomed to over time. In fact, you’re so used to it by now that in your sleepy state, you don’t even register the odd sound in the garage, a sort of thunk, not unlike that of a confused bird flying into a picture window. 

When the last drop of tea is gone, you place the mug in the dishwasher and head for your bedroom. You go through the steps of your night routine as though on autopilot before finally crashing into the plush bed. Within minutes, sleep takes you.

The sound of your alarm is innocuous enough — a small tinkle of bells or chimes or whatever cheerful twee instrument it is that Apple is using. 

It’s incredible how something so innocent can sound so ungodly. Ugh.

Barely lifting your head up off the pillow, you drag the trilling device towards you with snatching fingers and turn it off. Maybe you’ll get up when the second alarm goes off, but let’s be honest — it probably won’t be until the third, and even then you might steal a few extra minutes under the covers. 

Eventually you manage to pull yourself upright and, with a huge yawn, lurch out of bed. You shuffle down the hall, thinking of little more than the bagel you’re gonna demolish before jumping in the shower, and make your way back into the kitchen. Your bare feet pad softly across the linoleum floor, cold and sticking slightly to your heels. The sky outside the window is a dark, deep blue. 

Then finally, in the stillness of the early morning, you hear a dull thud.

You pause halfway to the toaster. 

Ten seconds go by. Silence.

Okay, that’s fine, it’s probably noth–

Thud. 

Goddamn it.

There’s a stab of alarm as the sound repeats again, then twice more in rapid succession. You take a deep breath, willing yourself to remain calm, and grab the softball bat you keep propped up by the door. Safety first.

You tiptoe cautiously to the door separating the kitchen and the garage, thinking it’s probably a raccoon or something, he slipped inside when I drove in last night. Actually, there’s so much shit in there, he’s probably been living there for weeks. I really should call a Junk King – 

You push the door open slowly, peering around the edge, prepared to fight. Your self-defense weapon is made of bright pink aluminum that catches the dim kitchen light emanating from behind you, glinting in your hands. You’re pretty sure it’s a little-league number so, clearly, it’ll be an even match for whatever it is that awaits you.

At first, nothing appears out of the ordinary. There’s no human silhouettes lurking in the dark. Everything is more or less the same as it was last night. The car is right where you left it, and the windows are intact. The spare furniture crammed against the perimeter is still there – nothing is missing or vandalized. But the room is still too dark for you to make out any less obvious differences, so you reach for the lightswitch on the left side of the doorframe.

And then, from the far corner of the room, up towards the ceiling, there’s an ear-splitting screech that nearly stops your heart. 

Before you even have time to blink, a shadowy mass is suddenly flying straight at you. It’s still mostly obscured in the dark — whatever it is — a nebulous blur that swings in a low arc across the room. It’s moving so quickly that the air whistles as the creature cuts a path through it.

You let out a shriek of your own and spring backwards, slamming the door shut. It’s just barely closed when it collides into the wood with a frightening crash. You lock the door with numb fingers and slump back against it with your heart in your throat, and a hot, loose feeling in your lower stomach that, in the midst of your hysteria, you manage to acknowledge as a warning that you might shit your pants.

You lurch forward and spin around, now watching the door with wide eyes. The noise from before, which you now understand must have been that thing flinging itself against the walls, resumes with a fervor that makes you sick with fright. It slams into the door relentlessly, and you physically cringe with each hit.

With shaking hands, you pull one of the kitchen chairs out and prop it underneath the door handle. You really don’t think it could be strong enough to break through, but…

At least you don’t think —

“Robin, I’m about to die.”

“...at six-thirty in the morning? Can you put it off until this afternoon, at least?” 

Robin’s voice is still thick with sleep and there’s no doubt that she’s irritated by your early phone call, but right now, you could care less.

“I think there’s some kind of cryptid in my garage.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

“Come again?”

“Like, I think the fucking Jersey Devil is in there, or something. When I got up this morning I kept hearing this weird noise, so I put my big girl panties on and went to investigate –”

“By yourself? Are you dumb? What if someone was in there?”

“Hey, I had protection, okay? Besides, I figured it was probably a racoon. If it had been a person planning on hurting me, they weren’t being very discreet about it –”

“Alright, alright. Continue.”

“So I open the door, and next thing I know, this thing screams and starts fucking flying directly at my head. I didn’t get a good look at it, Rob, it was too dark, but that thing is out for blood. It keeps flying into the door. Listen to this shit.”

You put your phone on speaker and hold it out, standing as close to the door as you’re willing to get.

“Um, I can’t hear anything.”

“...well…it was doing it earlier...”

“...right. So, what, a bird flew into your garage?”

“A bird? Maybe.” That sort of fit, right? Whatever it was, it had wings. It was kind of big. It made noise. You consider. “Could be a bat, I suppose.”

Across town, Robin suddenly sits bolt upright in bed. Vickie mumbles incoherently next to her, half-awake from hearing your too-early conversation. 

“I’m coming over,” Robin says abruptly, and hangs up.

Flinging herself out of bed, Robin begins dressing frantically, scrambling to pull a pair of jeans up over her bare legs. Drawers and closet doors bang open and slam shut again. Vickie groans from beneath her pillow. “Could you keep it down, please?”

“No, sorry babe. Gotta go. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you kidding me?”

You rub your temples in irritation and throw yourself back down on the couch. You’ve taken refuge in the living room while you wait for Robin, and have spent the past fifteen minutes going back and forth with animal control. Trying to convince them to come get this thing out of your house? An exercise in futility.

A frantic knocking makes you jump, before you realize it’s coming from outside the house. You cautiously enter the kitchen again and when you see Robin’s face through the small pane of glass in the front door, your whole body sags with relief. You fling it open breathlessly and throw yourself at her. “Thank God!” The words are muffled, as your face is pressed into her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay!” She slings her arm around you in a hug and pats your back. “We’re gonna take care of this.”

You release her and start venting your frustration. “Yeah, we’ll have to. I tried calling animal control and apparently they can’t do anything since it’s not a dog or a cat, and they kept telling me I had to call a wildlife removal agency instead, and they just kept going on about how they have to send a professional who specializes in birds or bats or whatever the hell it is, and that it’s gonna cost me like at least two hundred bucks –”

Robin cuts off your rambling. “I don’t think you should call anyone.”

You huff. “I certainly don’t want to, if it’s gonna cost me that much. I thought this was what animal control did. What am I paying taxes for?”

Robin’s been here all of two minutes and you already feela little better. The run-in earlier had frightened you, certainly, but you’re no longer alone in the house with an eldritch horror.

Robin shakes her head. “No, I mean I already called someone.”

That stops you, and you squint at her in confusion. “Who? You know a guy who handles this kinda thing?”

“...actually, I know two.”

Eddie’s green-and-white van screams around the corner, practically making the turn on two wheels.

“Jesus, Munson, slow down!”

“Relax, Harrington. I’m a certified expert driver. My insurance company said so.”

A Megadeth song that Steve doesn’t know thumps out of the speakers at a deafening volume. Eddie drums his hands on the steering wheel in time with the music, headbanging as vigorously as he can manage without taking his eyes completely off the road.

Steve reaches for the stereo knob and turns it down. Eddie shoots him a disgruntled look from the driver’s seat. “Hey, man —”

“We got somewhere to be, alright? I told Robin we’d get there ASAP. The last thing we need is for you to wrap this thing around a telephone pole.”

“If she didn’t move so far away, we would already be there,” Eddie complains.

“Dude, she lives like an hour away now. Hour and a half, tops.” 

“Well, that’s a long drive when it’s this early!”

Waiting for Robin’s reinforcements to arrive provides ample time for her to shatter your world. You sit together on opposite ends of the couch, staring at each other in intense silence. Your brow is deeply furrowed, eyes nearly shut from the force of the expression.

“Are you being for real, or is this an elaborate lie you’re making up that you’ll laugh at me for falling for later?”

Robin drags her finger across her chest, drawing an imaginary X. “Cross my heart and hope to die. Trust me, I know how crazy it sounds.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that sounds more like a wheeze. “Yeah, it sounds fucking crazy!”

Robin’s expression turns resentful. “Hey, you’re the one who called me saying Mothman was in your garage this morning –”

“I said the Jersey Devil, actually, but c’mon! An interdimensional monster. Is that real? Can that really be real?”

“Listen, just think about what you saw. You were pretty freaked. Did it really seem like some rabied-up household pest?”

It didn’t. The odd, kite-like shape, the speed with which it flew, and the utter determination — there was no doubt in your mind that it had dived at you deliberately, with the malicious intent to bite and scratch and hurt. You remember the hot taste of fear in your mouth, like a bitter pill dissolved on the tongue.

“No, it didn’t,” you admit quietly. That thing, whatever it was, was weird. But that doesn’t make Robin’s story any easier to swallow.

When it came to the supernatural or…whatever this was considered, you were neither a believer nor a skeptic. You weren’t willing to fully corroborate the existence of such things until you had experienced something like it yourself, but you still took others’ reports in stride; if someone claimed that they felt cold spots in their grandmother’s bedroom after she died, or that their belongings often ended up in odd places despite no one moving them, then you rolled with it. Who were you to deny their experiences? You wouldn’t tell them they’re wrong. 

But Robin’s Upside Down, well…it’s giving less childhood ghost story and more Stephen King novel. One of the weirder ones too, that he wrote when he was still snorting a ton of cocaine. She’s on some Tommyknockers shit.

“You’ll see,” Robin promises. “When we kill it, you can get a good look at it.”

“Right, about that. Steve is your himbo friend from home, right?”

Robin smiles proudly. “The one and only.”

“But he’s good at this? Getting rid of these things?”

She nods eagerly. “Oh, very. I know I say he’s a himbo, but I’m selling him short, really, he’s the best. Best guy I know, in fact.”

You hear the pointed lilt in her voice, the one that’s always there when Robin mentions Steve to you. You roll your eyes. “There’s a monster in my garage, and you’re worried about getting me a date?”

Robin throws her hands up in defiance. “I’m just sayin’! He and his girlfriend Nancy broke up.” Her face suddenly lights up as she remembers a bit of gossip. “She’s bisexual now, by the way! Shame she didn’t realize it when we were in high school together, I had a huuuuge crush on her.”

“I thought you had a huge crush on Vickie in high school?”

“I did,” she says, as though there’s nothing contradictory about that fact. “Listen, I’m a complex, multifaceted lesbian, with a lot of —“

She’s interrupted by the knocking at the front door, and both of your heads turn automatically towards the sound. 

It’s your second house-call of the day. Robin jumps up, winking at you. “It’s gonna be fine,” she whispers, and takes your hand, giving it a squeeze.

You follow her back into the kitchen, where you’re promptly welcomed by the sight of two boy-faces smushed shamelessly against the glazing in the door. 

Robin rolls her eyes and yanks it open.

Without the door in place to support him, one boy loses his balance and topples forward, crashing into the kitchen. The other boy, who pulled back in time, laughs openly at him. 

“Hey, dinguses, this isn’t my house, remember? Don’t be weird.”

“There’s not a day in Munson’s life that he hasn’t been weird.”

The one pulling himself up off the floor grunts out, “I resent that.” When he’s fully upright, he gazes at you with wide eyes and a slight frown, not saying anything.

Robin steps in and they each take turns embracing her in greeting. One of them even ruffles her hair affectionately, and you watch the three of them with interest.

You’ve seen enough pictures of Steve Harrington by now that you could pick him out from a mile away. Of the two boys he’s taller, and more classically handsome, with his pretty features and artfully-sculpted hair. In his neat green pullover and pressed jeans, you can totally picture King Steve as he was in high school — athletic and rich and preppy, with his equally rich and preppy girlfriend.

While you recognize Steve immediately, this other boy you know less. He looks only vaguely familiar, perhaps a background figure in Robin’s photos. His dark hair is long, curly and disheveled, and his eyes are huge and starkly brown against his pale skin. Despite the early hour they must’ve left at, he's taken the time to deck himself out in black leather and loads of silver jewelry.

After he releases Robin, Steve introduces himself. He saunters forward confidently, one hand extended out towards you. “I’m Steve,” he says with a charming smile. He cocks his head slightly to the side, and there’s a brief pause for dramatic effect. “Steve Harrington.” 

In your peripheral vision, you can see Robin holding a hand over her eyes in embarrassment. The other boy shoots him a dirty look.

You shake his hand politely, mildly amused. “Nice to meet you, Steve.”

When Steve releases your hand, the dark-haired one gives you an awkward wave. “I’m Eddie.” 

The name rings a bell. You wave back and smile at him kindly. “Hi, Eddie.”

He shuffles his feet, Reeboks squeaking against the linoleum, not quite meeting your eyes. 

“I’m really glad you both are here,” you add, glancing between the two boys. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Our pleasure,” Steve replies. “Always happy to be of service —”

“So,” Eddie cuts in, “where did you find this little fucker, anyway?”

“The garage.” Your voice is soft with trepidation. “The door’s right there.”

Three sets of eyes, blue and hazel and brown, follow the line of your pointed index finger. The chair is still jammed underneath the knob in a feeble attempt to barricade the door.

“Alright, we just need to grab our stuff from the van,” Eddie tells you. “And we’ll take care of it. If there’s only one, it shouldn’t take us long at all.”

You nod, like this is all good and normal and not the weirdest morning of your life. “Okay.”

When they move to head outside again, Steve eyes your little pink aluminum softball bat, back in its place in the corner. He smiles. “Hey, I got one of those!“

Eddie jogs lightly to catch up with Steve as he strides to where the van is parked outside.

“Hey,” he hisses, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention. “You didn’t tell me this was Robin’s hot friend.”

“Huh?” Steve squints at him, disgruntled. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know, literally anyone?”

“If I’m talking about Robin’s friend, then I’m talking about her. I didn’t realize I had to clarify.” He yanks the trunk open, and his voice takes on a more taunting tone. “Why? You nervous that a girl is actually speaking to you for once?”

Eddie steps back, visibly stung. “Hey, fuck you, man.”

Steve and Eddie’s friendship is not as tenuous as it once was, but sometimes old habits die hard.

Steve softens immediately, face painted with regret. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that,” he mutters, swiping a hand through his hair. He sighs. “I bumped into Nancy at the store yesterday, I’m not in a good mood.”

Eddie nods awkwardly, not really sure how to answer. “I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, um…again.”

“Thank you…for that reminder,” Steve replies, voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns to Eddie with narrowed eyes. “That we dated twice, and then also broke up twice.”

Eddie just smiles and claps him on the back. “I’m here for you, brother.”

From the kitchen window, you can see Steve and Eddie trudging back towards the house fully armed. Steve is holding a wooden baseball bat hammered-through with nails, and Eddie has what appears to be a makeshift spear — really, it’s just a big stick with a knife jerry-rigged on the end.

Robin takes in your open-mouthed shock. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you reply, dumbfounded, staring. “This is fine.”

The boys reenter. Steve smiles brilliantly at you, face clearing of some previous sourness you don’t know the cause of, and gestures with his bat to yours. “We can upgrade that for you, if you want,” he jokes.

You chuckle uneasily, panic setting in as you stare at the lethal-looking spikes of the nails. “Heh…maybe later.”

Eddie watches you carefully, the way your fingers scrunch nervously into the fabric of your sleep shirt, and the occasional, rapid twist of your head that you can’t seem to control, like you’re desperately trying to clear your mind of something awful. 

Robin glances down at her buzzing phone, Vickie’s name and face popping up on the homescreen for the hundredth time this morning — apparently, she’s now awake and frantic that her clumsy girlfriend may have yet again gotten herself involved in some wild, life-threatening shenanigan.

“Just give me a minute, she’s freaking out,” Robin mumbles, pushing past you and into the living room for privacy.

Steve turns his back to you as he goes to remove the chair from under the knob, and Eddie takes this small opportunity to move closer to you. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he took your trembling hand in his.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs. “We’re not gonna let that thing get at you.”

You manage a nod, overwhelmed. Eddie reaches out and pats your arm but pulls back quickly, like he’s afraid to touch you for too long.  

Steve calls your name, and you turn to him, distracted.

The chair is back in its place at the table, and he gestures to the now-unprotected door. “Is it crowded in there?”

“Very,” you confirm. The untidy chaos in the garage would normally embarrass you, but given the circumstances, you’re a little beyond caring. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures you. “We’ll try and be really careful about your stuff.”

“But no promises,” Eddie adds, a smile touching his lips for the first time.

You try to smile back, still feeling bizarrely distraught. “Just try not to break my windshield, please.”

He laughs softly. “Sounds like a reasonable enough request.”

“Okay, Munson, you ready?”

“Yeah.” Eddie joins him by the door. There hasn’t been any more noise from the garage since you heard it this morning — you don’t know what that bodes for them.

They brace themselves, weapons raised and at the ready. With a flick of his wrist Steve opens the door, which slowly creaks open. Shoulders hunched, he crosses the threshold, and switches the light on. You watch with bated breath, anticipating the sharp cry to be uttered at any moment.

Nothing happens.

Both Steve and Eddie cautiously enter the garage, watching for any signs of life. Steve starts jabbing at the little nooks and crannies amongst your things, trying to poke it out of hiding.

Eddie crouches down on the ground and peers underneath your car. 

“See anything?” you ask hesitantly.

“Not yet,” answers Eddie in a low voice.

Steve peels a dusty tarp off of an old end table, opens up a discarded cabinet. “Come on,” he mutters.

Three agonizing minutes go by as they pick their way through the room, searching under and over and behind every bit of junk, neither boy finding what they’re looking for.

“Maybe it got out,” Steve muses, standing upright, relaxing his grip on the bat, letting it rest casually against his shoulder.

You shift uncertainly, still hovering from your post at the half-open door. “Would that be good or bad?”

“Good for us. Bad for the neighbors,” says Eddie.

Suddenly a streak of dark gray erupts from behind Steve.

You barely have time to yell; Steve, feeling the ripple of wind on the back of his neck, whirls around.

The creature beats its leathery wings and it’s moving up and up until it reaches the ceiling, circling the room, no doubt gauging which angle it should dive at and towards who. 

Instinct tells you to slam the door shut, like you did earlier, but then Eddie and Steve will be trapped. Instead you leave the door ajar, crouched in pathetic terror. The boys recover their stances quickly, muscles tensed, ready to swing and jab their respective weapons the moment it comes within in striking distance. Their faces are twin mirrors of fierce determination.

The creature goes for Steve first, swooping down on him; you’re horrified to see its open mouth is full of concentric rows of spiny teeth. You utter a sharp cry, almost unable to look, certain that he’s about to be mauled by this terrible thing.

And the creature is fast.

But Steve is faster.

There’s a horrible sound, a meaty thwack! as the baseball bat smashes into the monster, sending it careening over your parked car like a gnarly fastball. It hits the wall and slides to the floor.

Eddie wastes no time in slamming one heavy boot down on a tattered wing, pinning the dazed thing into place. With one sharp jab, the knife pierces deep into the creature’s belly. He gives the spear a swift jerk, dragging the knife down, and cleaves the body almost completely in two. Its oily flesh is taut, but fragile; the thin skin surrounding the wound peels back, and it splits open like an over-full garbage bag, glistening, red-black insides seeping out onto the hard concrete floor.

Eddie whistles. “Goodnight.”

Gobsmacked by what just unfolded, you tiptoe into the garage. “Is…is it dead?”

“Yup,” says Eddie, nudging the thing with his foot. “This is kind of a small one,” he calls over to Steve.

Steve’s puffing slightly, shoulders heaving with adrenaline. “I noticed that. Probably not doing too hot out here in the real world.”

You gape at them both, eyes flitting between the two boys. Small?

You creep closer to the pulpy mass, getting your first good look at your uninvited guest. If you were right about one thing earlier, it’s that this is certainly no common house bat; it’s gray and rubbery, made of slick naked flesh, with a long twisted tail like braided rope. Its wings are shot through with six spidery limbs, its small head little more than a gaping maw lined with razors. And despite Eddie and Steve’s comments, to you? This thing seems enormous.

Eddie smiles at you proudly. “And just think — we did it all without breaking your windshield.”

Steve grimaces. “Yeah, about that…”

There’s a dent in the passenger-side door of the car. You’re sure if you were to hold Steve’s bat at the right angle against the dinged metal, it would fit in the depression like a glove.

Robin appears seemingly out of nowhere, leaning casually against the doorframe, sliding her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. 

“Hey. What’d I miss?”

The cleanup process is quick but dirty. Eddie scrapes up everything he can with a snow shovel of all things, and dumps the carcass unceremoniously into a Hefty bag — the real heavy-duty kind, with the red strings — as it was politely held open by Steve. Meanwhile, you scrub at the blood left behind, but it doesn’t do much. The ominous stain is likely etched into the garage floor forever.

Maybe you can throw a rug over it or something.

Robin yawns as she watches you work. “Can we go get breakfast? I’m starving.”

“I’m down,” says Steve, motioning for you to hand him the scrubber clutched in your hand.

You hand it over, but warn him, “I don’t think this is coming out.” He starts scrubbing anyway.

Eddie pipes up. “Are there any good diners around here?”

You wince. “We just threw an eviscerated monster in the trash. Don’t you need, like, a refractory period to deal with that level of gross?”

He thinks it over for a moment, then smiles and shrugs. “No.”

Laughter bubbles up and spills over your lips uncontrollably. It starts out normal, but then you can’t stop, and then it sort of feels like maybe you’re hyperventilating.

Robin, your soulmate, bless her, is always in tune with your emotions. She reacts quickly, kneeling down beside you on the cold floor, and wraps an arm around you. “Hey,” she says gently. “Relax, just breathe. I know everything you heard and saw today is literally insane, but it’s all okay.”

Robin’s hick hometown. Parallel dimensions. Little girl with superpowers. Monsters. Something about a gate...Monsters. Monsters from said-parallel dimension. Monsters from said-parallel dimension finding their way inside your home. Monsters in your home.

“Jesus,” you gasp in frustration, knuckling stupid tears at the corners of your eyes. “What is this?” 

“It’s a lot to take in, is what it is,” says Steve sympathetically. “But that thing’s dead, and you’re safe now, and that’s what matters.”

“The big bad stuff is already finished,” Eddie adds. You didn’t notice, but he’s crouched down right next to you, mirroring Robin’s position on your other side. “Not to mention,” he nudges you playfully, “you’ve got two pretty damn good exterminators on speed dial now, huh?” He places a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel the warm metal of his rings through your shirt.

You manage a weak mile. “True. That was pretty impressive,” you sniffle. His fingers give a reassuring little squeeze, but — again — is quick to let go.

He glances at Robin and Steve. “You know,” he starts in an accusatory tone, “you guys were definitely not this nice to me when I had to find out about all this shit.”

“We were in a time crunch,” Robin says dismissively. “You had to get with the program.”

The hysteria starts to wane; your body slumps a little under the combined weight of Robin and Eddie’s arms. “I changed my mind.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “About what?”

“…I want breakfast now.”

The ride to the diner gives you a chance to mull over the bizarre nature of the morning’s events. You let your head fall back on the seat and close your eyes; a stranger thing has never happened to you. 

Part of you wonders why Robin never told you all this but you immediately dismiss the thought. Why would she, unless it was absolutely necessary, like today? In addition to being pretty far-fetched, the whole thing also sounds pretty fucking traumatic.

“What do you guys call those things again?” you mumble, turning to Eddie, who’s sitting next to you in the backseat of Robin’s car.

Eddie’s face turns pink when he hears you address him, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh, demobats.” 

“Demobats,” you repeat. “How’d you come up with that?”

Steve pipes up from the passenger seat. “The first monster we saw from the Upside-Down was called a demogorgon. Some nerds named it.”

“Oh,” you say faintly.

“We can talk about something else,” says Robin. She looks at you anxiously in the rearview mirror, suspicious that you’re going to fall apart again. 

“I’m fine, Rob. I’ve made my peace with it.” You pause, and amend. “I’m making my peace with it.”

“Oo-kay.” She drags out the first syllable, letting it be known that she doesn’t really believe you. 

“Are there very many of these things?”

Steve seems to hesitate before he answers. “We don’t think so. Only a dozen or so managed to slip through the gate before it shut, and we think we got most of ‘em when they were still flapping around Hawkins. We found one that nearly crossed over the border into Ohio — we were keeping an eye on the papers — but other than that, this is the furthest out of town we’ve heard of them going.”

You process this, not really sure what to say. There’s not really much you can say. Instead, you turn your head to the window and watch the world race by through the glass, letting it slide past your eyes in a blur of green and blue.

The diner’s parking lot is mostly empty. Work should have already started for most — only a handful of elderly patrons are inside, sipping coffee at the bar and reading the paper. 

The matronly waitress wiping down a table lets you know that the four of you can sit anywhere you like. Robin immediately slides into a booth by the window, well away from the other customers. 

Steve takes the seat across from her, hoping you’ll sit on the bench next to him, but you plop down tiredly next to Robin instead. Eddie takes the last open spot, opposite from you.

A hush falls over the group while you peruse the menu. The waitress comes and takes orders; waters all around, coffee, and juice, a blueberry short stack for Robin, French toast for yourself, a breakfast burrito for Steve, and fried eggs and sausage for Eddie, with a bottle of hot sauce, please and thank you.

Polite chatter resumes, and quickly devolves into familiar banter around mouthfuls of food, though you stay quieter than the rest, thoroughly worn out. Steve and Robin’s camaraderie takes up the bulk of the conversation, anyway, both of them firing back and forth at each other with ease. You decide that you like Steve — he’s clearly grown into a genuinely nice guy, different from the high school boy Robin told you he once was, but it seems he’s retained just the perfect amount of bitchiness. It’s easy to see why she’s so fond of him.

You’re content to watch and listen to them with mild amusement (though Steve periodically directs his comments towards you, subtly watching your reaction to what he says) and it seems that Eddie is, too. You can’t tell if he’s used to being their third wheel or if he’s just being shy because there’s a new person around.

Robin and Steve enter a fierce debate about something or other — the prospective music career of someone named Tammy that you vaguely recall being a former crush of Robin's. You face Eddie and ask in a hushed tone, “Are they always like this?” 

He swallows a bite of gooey, Tabasco-smothered egg. “Pretty much.”

“I wouldn’t have the energy,” you marvel.

Eddie chuckles. He shifts in his seat, and his leg bumps into yours under the table. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, turning pink again.

“That’s okay.” You study his face, which is angled down towards his plate, decidedly away from your gaze. His eyes are big and dark and warm, like sticky-sweet molasses.

“You have very pretty eyes,” you tell him matter-of-factly, just as there’s a lull in Robin and Steve’s argument. In tandem, both of them turn their heads to stare at you.

Surprise flickers across Eddie’s face when he realizes you’re speaking to him. His face warms to an even deeper red, but he looks pleased; and you’re glad for it. 

“Thank you?” It comes out like a question.

“You’re welcome.” You nod and give him a soft smile, which he returns, and for a moment you might as well be the only two people in the room.

Unbeknownst to you, Robin watches the exchange with her head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised in surprise. You return to eating your breakfast, and she casts Steve an apologetic look. Eddie tries to keep his expression neutral, hiding his glee.

You excuse yourself to the restroom. As soon as you’re gone, Robin says, “Sorry, Steve.”

He just sighs in defeat, slumping back against the booth’s cushion. “Whatever.”

Eddie stabs a fork in his direction. “You’re not even over Wheeler yet, anyway. Let me have this.”

Robin’s brow furrows. “You’re still hung up on Nancy? Steve, come on.”

Steve’s mouth drops open. “You’re the one who said we should get back together!” he cries.

Robin’s mouth pulls to the side in mild guilt. “Which was a mistake on my part, I will admit.”

“Just wasn’t meant to be,” Eddie chimes in. 

Steve turns his incredulous look to Eddie. “And don’t even get me started on what you told me about her —”

“I’m the last person you should be taking relationship advice from,” he interrupts nonchalantly. 

Steve gapes at his so-called friends. Robin plows on.

“I’m sorry, but if you’re not over Nance, I’m not letting you near my girl. She’s not gonna be your rebound; she deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” concurs Eddie, the word garbled around a forkful of food, “like me.”

Steve drops his head onto the table. 

“And stop trying to flirt with her, so I can.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing such a great job at that so far,” says Steve sarcastically, forehead still pressed against the formica.

“I’m gettin’ warmed up! Just give me a second, Christ.”

Steve, though snarky on the outside, is still soft on the inside, and so feels a pang of sympathy — he knows why Eddie’s nervous around girls. One drunken night he, Eddie, and Dustin had been shotgunning cans of shitty beer in the Hendersons’ backyard, and he’d spilled his guts about the abysmal reality of his love life. Not that Steve’s is going much better, obviously. But Eddie had deep-rooted fears that went beyond Steve’s understanding, insecurities that harkened back to his childhood and twisted into trickier and trickier knots the older he got. 

Eddie has his reasons to be nervous.

“Alright,” says Steve, finally yanking his head back up off the table. “I give, she’s all yours. But I’m gonna remind you — and don’t take this the wrong way — that all she’s done so far is give you a single compliment. Don’t get carried away.”

“Too late,” Eddie replies dreamily. “I’m already planning my proposal.”

Robin starts laughing, just as you approach the table again. 

“What’s so funny?”

“Boys,” she replies without hesitation. She takes another sip of coffee. “I’m so glad I’m gay.”

You finish the rest of your breakfast. When the waitress offers to bring the checks around, you’re quick to foot the bill.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” you say among the chorus of protests. “I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t shown up.”

“Ended up in the Weekly World News,” Eddie teases.

“What a high honor that would have been.” You roll your eyes. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve drives everyone back to the house, and a wave of sadness washes over you as you all pile into the kitchen once more. The prospect of the boys’ departure fills you with a strange kind of emptiness; it hits you that you really don’t want them to leave. You’re already feeling attached.

You suppose being rescued from a monster is just one of those things that brings people closer together, like a family barbecue, or making a blood oath.

And truth be told, you feel slightly…uneasy. Discombobulated. Though the events of the morning are still fresh in your mind, the steps of your daily routine are drifting hazily back to you through the fog of shock. Normally at this hour, you’d be plugging away at work. You have an explanatory email to write to your boss for missing today, and you imagine Robin will be submitting something similar. A nine-to-five job, running errands, going to happy hour — they all seem so trivial. How are you supposed to go back to all those things as though nothing out of the ordinary happened? Knowing that your best friend used the free time she had between finishing high school and working retail to help save the world from monsters and government conspiracies and God only knows what other crazy shit?

It’s all too surreal. You grip the edge of the kitchen table with one hand, steadying yourself. Easy girl.

You glance around, then choose to settle your gaze on Eddie, soothed by all his dark, warm colors.

Steve checks his watch, sighing. “We should probably head back. I got the afternoon shift today.”

Robin shakes her head in disbelief. “I cannot believe that Family Video is still fucking open.”

Steve ignores this and immediately turns to you instead. “To clarify, I have a real job, too — I was part-time at my company, and now I’m transitioning to full-time.” He’s needlessly defensive. “Managing the video store’s been a nice side gig, but I swear I’m retiring.”

You blink. “You don’t have to defend Family Video to me, Steve. It’s a very respectable establishment.”

“Yeah,” agrees Eddie, “Fuck the government, you’re the real backbone of our society.”

“Fuck off, Munson.”

“Well, this has been a grand old time,” Robin interrupts their bickering, yawning and stretching her arms dramatically. “But I think I need to go home. Smooth things over with the wife before she starts panicking again.” As though suddenly remembering your earlier distress, she turns to you, frowning. “Do you need me to stay with you?”

Not wanting to burden your friend who is being oh-so-chill about the science-fiction film that is literally her life, you immediately lie. “No, I’m okay.”

Her bright blue eyes narrow, not believing you. “I’ll stay,” she says decidedly.

“No, Rob, I think I’m just gonna go to sleep, honestly.” You are tired. Your bones feel weary; you want nothing more than to collapse back into bed and slip into unconsciousness again. “You go ahead and go home.”

You shift your attention towards Steve and Eddie, who are both hanging quietly by the door.

“Again, I can’t thank you guys enough. Really,” you tell them again, stepping forward with arms outstretched. It doesn’t matter that you just met; you need a proper goodbye from both of them. Right away Steve obliges, and wraps his arms around you, patting your back gently before stepping away again.

Eddie hesitates, looking bashful when you turn to him next, and you lower your arms in embarrassment. You don’t want to make him feel like he has to hug you if he doesn’t want to. But before you can feel too stung about it, he steps forward and embraces you tightly.

It’s oddly intimate — his arms are low, circled around your waist, and his cheek presses against your hair. He sighs, a soft exhale that you can’t see or hear but rather, you feel. The creeping sense of loss grows stronger when he releases you again.

“See you soon, I hope.” Steve gives you a final wave, when he’s halfway out of the house. “We should all get together sometime. Y’know, on non-monster related business,” he jokes.

“For sure,” you promise, fluttering your fingers back at him.

“And if you ever need anything,” Eddie’s low voice is suddenly close to your ear, “just let me — us — know. We’ll be here before you know it.”

You let out a small, shuddery breath. “Thank you,” you whisper gratefully, touched by his attentiveness. Eddie seems to be the only other person who understands the gravity of what you’ve seen. Robin and Steve have been in the game too long, perhaps, and although they’re understanding, the remarkability of their Upside Down has worn off. 

Eddie, however, doesn’t appear to have achieved quite the same level of nonchalance that they have, and when he looks at you, his concern is tangible. It’s etched in the set of his frown, practically staring out at you from those big eyes of his. Those big, pretty eyes. 

“See you around,” he says softly. 

And with that, he’s gone.

thank you for reading!!! 🦇💙

taglist: @kores-mun-son-n-more

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson series #god i hope this pacing is okay? this is the longest fic I’ve ever written #can’t tell if I’ve jammed too much in here or not enough 🤷🏻‍♀️

[chimcess]

A Picture’s Worth || jjk (I)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Ex-Art Thief!Reader, Ex-Assassin!Reader, Ex-Gang member!Reader, Gang member!Jungkook, Assassin!Jungkook, Hitman!Jungkook, Thief!Jungkook Genre: Strangers to lovers, gang AU, mafia AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut     Word Count: 23.2k+ Summary: After pulling off the largest art heist of her career, Y/N has put that life behind her. However, after 4 years out of the business, she comes home to find a stranger in her house. Warnings: violence, blood, gang activity, mafia activity, mentions of death, actual death, crime, robberies, pickpocketing, graphic depictions of injuries, guns, knives, mentions of past torture, body branding (not too graphic), major character(s) injured, STRONG LANGUAGE, Gang tattoos, Abuse (not JK and Reader), JK is a bit of a himbo, but only with his friends, he’s actually quite scary, I’m not a gang member or anything so I could be wrong about that stuff, I tried my best, eventual smut, mutual pining, kissing (let me know if I missing anything) Author’s Note:Things were getting out of hand, so I made the executive decision to split this into two parts. This one is establishing plot so no smut (yet). Thanks so much for reading. She’s a big girl.

Listen to the Playlist || cross posted to ao3: here

Five years ago

There comes a point in a child’s life that they begin to ponder over what they will become. Some girls I knew dreamt of becoming lawyers, doctors, or astronauts. I remember there being a time when I had thought of more than the mountains I had lived in, possibly moving to California and starting my life over after I was finished with school. I had even played with the idea of owning a salon. I hoped that I would be pretty when I grew up with bright red hair just like Ariel. It was strange looking back on that time and how little had truly changed. 

While I had, in some ways, deviated from the life my family had wanted for me, I was still lurking in the shadows and biding my time. Instead of hiring me for hits, the players I worked for enjoyed the finer things in life. Patrons of the arts if you will. Staring up at the Rembrandt painting, it was not a wonder as to why.

Looking over my shoulder, I was relieved to see Hoseok in position. Locking eyes momentarily, I gave him a small, polite smile and returned to the painting in front of me. To the security cameras, we were simply two strangers who had a small moment in time. I knew that we were trying to use signals as much as we could without looking suspicious. A smile normally meant that I was confident I could pull this off. Hoseok’s returning nod was his way of saying he was happy with his own assessments.

The heist would take a few more weeks to plan out. Our buyer wanted 18 different art pieces from this museum, something that was doable with our team, as well as 38 pieces of jewelry. Taehyung and Jimin would be in charge of the operation. Walking away from the Rambrandt, I looked over other pieces with the same intensity to not raise suspicions. While the cameras here were not of great quality, they could still see us and that alone was enough to bother me. 

Stealing has always come naturally to me. Second nature. When I was young I pickpocketed, the artform far more refined now that I was much older, and my parents enjoyed how sneaky I could be when I wanted to be. We never stayed anywhere for too long, the last place I had seen them was Aspen six years ago, but my favorite years were London. The Underground was a perfect place to pickpocket. In a day I could swipe over 100 items and no one would be the wiser.

My tastes changed as I grew. There was a time when I hated the idea of being a criminal like my parents were. I disdain violence at the best of times, but there were very few ways of getting out unscathed. It was when I managed to steal jewels from a heavily secured store that I caught the eyes of The Saints. Hoseok was impressed by my attention to detail and offered me a way to get out of my family home. I was sixteen and impulsive. A little over ten years later I was still standing here, pickpocketing the wealthy and giving it to those just as fortunate. It had stopped bothering me years ago, the guilt, but there was always a piece of me that longed for those far away dreams of cutting hair. It almost made me laugh just thinking about it.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” A soft voice asked, suddenly beside me.

Turning, I was confronted with a familiar face. Yoongi hardly changed, his set lips and keen eyes unwavering. There was a long, jagged scar that ran down his forehead, over his eye, and down his cheek. He got the scar when he was still in the Irish Mob back in Boston. He was an earner with those boys and they gave him hell about leaving. Still, he had managed to walk away only to join a different side of organized crime.

“Yes, but not really to my taste,” I joked.

I had never been the biggest fan of abstract work. I liked it a great deal more than landscapes, it was at least interesting to look at, but the lack of effort had bothered me. It would never take off anyway. No one liked over priced paint splatters. Yoongi hummed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Taking the cue, I stood as he walked off and began counting back from 500 in my head. Everyone would be heading back to the command now. Everything had been squared away for now. Taking one more passing glance at the Rembrandt, I sighed. Hopefully, when this is all done, I could walk away.

With my head held high, I slowly drifted toward the exit. Taking the time to look over art was another great way to cover my tracks. In order to stay a nobody, I had to be a nobody, and only a nobody would stop to look at a still-life of a bowl of fruit. I never did understand why these things were popular. Then, finally, after five more minutes of “ooo”ing an “ahh”ing at pieces I’ve seen every week for the last month, I was out of the door.

Three years ago

Blinking, I stood motionless as I stared at the cracks in the little apartment’s ceilings. It had been a difficult find, something so cheap in San Diego was a steal even if it was only 300 square feet. Smiling, I threw my duffel bag of belongings onto the futon I had brought earlier that day. Finally, things were going to start looking up.

I had flown in from Kansas the week prior and had made the most of cheap motel rooms until I scored this place. I had always loved California and finally I had made it home. Looking around, I found I was not as upset by the lack of space or functioning stove. In fact, it had been the lightest I had felt in a very long time. Only second to when I graduated from Aveda last fall.

Deciding to pick up what little boxes I had with me, I broke them down and tore them into strips that were easily thrown away. I was lucky the place had come with a small, countertop fridge and microwave. The only sink was in the bathroom, a room that was floor-to-ceiling covered in tile with a toilet, small sink, and a shower head. I would have to wear flip flops just in case. The landlord had recommended using a bucket since the hot water only lasted for about 10 minutes.

I did not have much. I had gotten into the habit of packing light and living even lighter, but I was determined to try this differently. I’ve gotten what I have always wanted and I was going to let anyone, or anything, take it away from me. Going to my duffel bag, I began packing out my folded clothes and organizing them into different piles before putting them away. I had bought a tall, skinny wardrobe at the same GoodWill I had gotten the futon from. 

Calling out to my phone, I asked Siri to play some music and got to work. I hated silence. Using the small drawers on the left side, I stuffed my underwear and pajamas on that side of the wardrobe. The right side was meant to hang nice things on, but I did not own nice things anymore. Instead hung were two pairs of jeans, a few dresses, and some shirts. I only owned black now. It was the dress code for every salon I had ever worked at- including the newest one. My shoes went on the shelves above the drawers and I made a mental note to buy a better pair of sneakers. I wanted to get outside more often.

Putting away the rest of my things was just as quick. My makeup was stored away on the desk that was attached to the wall beside the fridge. It was meant to be a dining area, but I doubted I would ever have company over to make use of it. My few skincare products were safely stored away in the bathroom mirror, and my kit was under my bed for safe keeping. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how sad everything truly was.

“Well,” I mumbled to myself. “Hopefully I can get enough clientele to get out of this shithole.”

At least, I thought to myself, at least I was free. 

With that in mind, I grabbed my keys and headed out into the city. It had been hours since I last stopped for anything and I would have no luck here for the night. Slipping into the hallway, I realized that I was happy. For the first time in a while I felt unadulterated. Things were going to be fine.

Two years ago

Clutching the pizza box with one hand and balancing it on my hip, I cradle my phone with my shoulder as I open the door to my building.

“The earliest I’ll be available is Thursday,” I said, my voice sickeningly sweet.

The customer, Jules, cheerfully asked if I had any availability on Sunday instead. Rolling my eyes, I reminded her that the salon was closed on both Sunday and Monday. This would be the third time I had to repeat myself.

“What about Saturday?” She asked, still as clueless as she had been since I had picked up.

“I’m free from 2pm until 3pm, but if you want a haircut and balayage I will need longer than an hour.”

“How long do you need?” Finally, I heard a hint of frustration slipping through her otherwise cheery voice.

“If you want the full layered balayage it can take up to three hours for hair as long as yours is. It can be shorter if you just want a partial- between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.”

Huffing up the stairs, I struggled to open the door to my floor and used my foot to keep it open while I awkwardly hobbled. Rolling my eyes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This would be the fourth time now.

“I can put you in Thursday morning from 8am until noon. I can also do Friday from 5pm until 8pm. I’m not available again until the following Wednesday.”

Jules hummed, unable to stay silent I found. We had been on the phone for twenty five minutes and I was beginning to get a migraine. She was sweet, and I appreciated her never ending patience, but I was not blessed with the same superpower. I had never been known for my temperament or politeness. I only had patience when money was involved. Shoving my door open with my shoulder, I willed those thoughts away. That was the last thing I needed to think about right now.

Jules was going to make me go rob a fucking bank at this rate. Banks weren’t even my thing. That brought a smile to my face and I put the pizza down on the single counter I had in the kitchen. 

“I guess Thursday will work then. I was just hoping to get it done before my birthday.”

Pausing, I sighed heavily. Wonderful. She was a guilt tripper. Little shit.

“What day is your birthday?” I asked.

“Oh! It’s Tuesday. My girls and I are going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.”

And despite my better judgment, I opened my calendar and began looking at my schedule on Tuesday. Knowing I had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, I just went right out with it. 

“We can try something if you’re open to it.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Jules asked, voice perking up.

“I can give you a partial balayage Tuesday and then you can come back Thursday to finish the rest if you want to after seeing the results.”

Jules squealed and began talking very quickly, her excitement palpable. I cringed away from the speaker of my phone.

“That would be Ah-mazing! What time on Tuesday could you see me?”

“I had a cancellation first thing in the morning. I’m free from 8am until 9:45. We’ll get as much as we can during that time.”

“Oh! I can definitely make that. Can we do the haircut on Tuesday instead of Thursday?”

Biting my tongue, I had to stop the smart ass comment I wanted to make from coming out. She was obviously very young or had little experience going to a salon. Still, it’s common sense that we would cut first. I’m not wasting products like that.

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I settled on.

“Thanks so much, Y/N! See you Tuesday!”

“See you then, Jules. Before you go, can I get some information from you so I can put you down properly?”

After getting her full name, phone number, and email address, I let her go and logged into the salon’s appointment system to add her in. Our receptionist had quit two months ago and we were having a hard time finding a replacement. I tried to tell Tony he needed to raise the pay but he was not budging. Right now we were all stuck keeping track of everything ourselves. 

The pizza was not very hot anymore but was warm enough to not be too bothersome. Happy to have some extra money coming in, I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda from it. I bought a small cart to put my microwave on. The mini fridge just happened to fit perfectly below it. The small Keurig I bought myself for Black Friday was right beside the microwave. A snug fit but it worked. Taking a bite of the pizza, I leaned against the counter and groaned.

I was so happy to be home.

Home. It was a word I was still hesitant to say. It was hard to believe things were permanent even after all this time. Some nights I stared up at the ceiling and waited for a knock on my door. Even if Hoseok promised emergencies only it was difficult to know what the guys would consider an emergency. That world was so far removed from this new reality of mine that I feared I was losing my edge. Would I even be able to help them anymore? 

With doubt and a recurring nightmare, I fell asleep and dreamt of casinos and Rembrandt.

One year later

Sweeping up the floor, I glanced around the room to find myself alone. 

“Great,” I huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Tony about this bullshit.”

It had been the third time the new hire, Sasha, had left without helping with cleanup. First he snuck out of the back when he was helping Tiesha, and the last two times had been with me. While we tried to keep the boss out of the personal issues we had at the shop, I was not about to let some 19-year-old walk around like he’s above it all. Angrily, I kept sweeping and hoped that the bastard got stuck in the worst traffic getting back on the I-5. 

Walking over to Andrea’s station, I rolled my eyes. She always forgot to put her combs in the sterilizing solution. Making quick work of that, I went around checking everyone’s stations to be sure it was all in order. Even Sasha’s. His desk was immaculately cleaned and I gritted my teeth harder. Seems like he’s one of those people. Feeling petty, I skipped sweeping under his vanity and kept going. Not like it made much of a difference anyway. Maybe I should steal his wallet tomorrow and help him look for it.

Fucking idiot.

No, I scolded myself. I am not that person anymore. I would definitely not go back to that lifestyle for Alexander Ivanov. Reminding myself that he was just a spoiled little brat, I continued sweeping hoping it would calm me down long enough to clear my head. If I let any of those ideas foster that would be bad. I’d have every valuable item that boy owned by lunch.

Suddenly the front desk phone began to ring and I chose to ignore it. It was five minutes after closing time and I did not feel like dealing with anyone else today. Sasha had pissed me off enough. I did not want some snotty customer adding to it. The ringing stopped and I was satisfied that they simply left a voicemail. 

Turning to go back to the staff room to gather the Swiffer, I was stopped in my tracks by the phone. A part of me wanted to answer it now. It had to be the same person. Still, I was off the clock and that was not a part of my job description. Destiny would handle it in the morning. The ringing stopped. I started walking. It started up again.

Peeved but resigned, I walked to the front desk and checked the number flashing on the screen. It was from out of state. Figures. Usually clients who wanted to come in on vacation called without realizing the time zone difference. Forcing a smile to my face, I picked up.

“Mane Street, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you?”

“Ten minutes.” The line died.

I knew that voice from anywhere. Shaking, I placed the phone back on its modem and took a second to gather myself. Whatever the emergency was, I only had ten minutes to finish cleaning and get outside. Knowing Hoseok, he would be waiting for me near my car. Better yet, he’d already be in the passenger seat.

Scrambling, I began to mop the floors and Windex the mirrors. I refused to let this unexpected visit stop me from performing my job. I was happy Sasha had left. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost. You have definitely heard one, my subconscious screamed.

I was locked up eight minutes later. I had been keeping count in my head just as I always had before. It was unsettling just how quickly I had transformed back into the person I had once been. Who was I fooling? I’ve been covering her up with scissors, a shitty studio apartment, and take out. That did not change the overseas accounts, fake names, and stolen jewelry I’ve kept. That doesn’t change the stolen art hanging on my walls.

Rounding the back of the store, I was not surprised to see my vehicle was the only one still there. Squinting, I could see the silhouette of a person’s head in the passenger side. The street light just in front of the pickup was facing the front, their side profile obscured by the light, but I would recognize Hoseok anywhere. He was hard but soft, jagged but gentle, and most importantly, his face was oval with a pointed chin. Anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I put on a brave face and marched forward. I would be right on time.

Hoseok did not say a word as I slid into the driver’s seat or when I closed the door. Not waiting for him to make a demand, I started the engine and turned on the AC. It was stuffy. Hoseok continued to look straight while I buckled my seatbelt and put the truck in reverse.

“Don’t go home,” He finally said.

Dread filled my stomach but I did as he said. Instead of turning left, I went right and headed for the little diner I enjoyed getting a late dinner at. It was the best place for steak and eggs. I was not sure if Hoseok would be hungry but I did not care. We never really thought about those things before.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing what you like,” He spoke again, his voice still gentle. “You look very nice, too. Like the new hair.”

I was always unnerved by this side of Hoseok. He was typically a very loud, energetic, and passionate man. Soft spoken and Hoseok had never gone together. Then again, it had been almost five years since I had seen him. A lot could change within that time. That, or whatever he was going to tell me would require softness. I hoped it was just a personality change from getting older. 

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Hadn’t realized you thought about me at all.”

I scoffed, “Of course I think about you. I think about all of you very often.”

This seemed to throw him for a loop. It was weird to speak so openly about my feelings. We had always gone about life with coldness. Being sharp and intense was the only way to survive out there. If anyone saw you as weak or vulnerable then you were finished. That was why Yoongi usually acted as a middle man. He was the hardest, coldest, most impenetrable wall there ever was. Just looking into his eyes you could see that. Shivering, I recalled the time he killed a man with a set of chopsticks while we were in Korea. 

“We think about you, too,” Hoseok said, sounding far away.

Turning into the diner’s parking lot, I turned off the engine and got out. Hoseok followed closely behind me and I asked him if he wanted anything.

“I hear the steak and eggs are nice,” He commented, eyes downcasted.

“Is Taehyung keeping tabs on me?” I sneered, anxiety turning into anger.

Taehyung was the tech guy when he wasn’t stealing jewels. He was also a royal pain in the ass who never knew when to cool it. He had been the most upset when he heard that I was leaving the crew and I would not put it past him. Taehyung was just that kind of guy. The gesture was kind, I was certain of that, and came from a place of love. Still, I had asked to be left alone. It seemed like no one really accepted that.

“I tried to stop it but it’s impossible to keep track of everything he does,” Hoseok admitted. “After a while we just accepted the fact that he wouldn’t give it up. He is trying to check in less and less, though. He’s just worried someone will come around and we won’t know about it.”

“And that’s how you knew where I worked?”

Holding the door open, Hoseok thanked me before going inside. Doris smiled at me when I walked inside. She was an elderly woman who liked to help me with my Sudoku puzzles on Sunday mornings. Eyeing Hoseok curiously, I waved at her before finding an open booth. I normally sat at the bar but I did not want prying eyes. Doris would not go away if we sat there and Hoseok was obviously wanting privacy.

“Hey sugar,” Dixie, a waitress from Alabama, greeted us.

She put down two menus and asked us what we wanted to drink. Hoseok ordered a coffee while I got a glass of chocolate milk. The man looked me up and down, amusement coloring every one of his features. I waved him off and looked at the menu. If he ordered steak and eggs I would order something else. Hoseok was a big fan of sharing food even if we both had our own portions.

Hoseok, like many of the guys from the crew, was South Korean. He was born in Gwangju, a city in the southern part of the country, and moved to the US with his friend Namjoon during university. Namjoon went on to become a campaign manager in New York City while Hoseok became an associate of the Gambino family after killing a few guys. Over time the two went their separate ways, but Hoseok always spoke fondly of him. Last he heard, Namjoon had moved to Seoul and was working at the Blue House.

“You all figured out what you want?” Dixie asked, reappearing with our drinks.

Hoseok ordered the steak and eggs while I got their “Rising Roadhouse'' meal. It came with waffles and I knew that would make Hoseok happy. When we were alone again, Hoseok sighed.

“It’s Jimin,” He said.

Bracing myself, I leaned in closer so we could speak quietly. The diner was almost empty at this time of night and I was nervous. This was shit no one needed to hear about. Hoseok got closer to me.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, whispering harshly.

“He’s gotten into some shit with Winter Hill again. Yoongi bailed him out but things are going to shit. They want us to get some things for them to make up for it. We weren’t sure where to go, and Georgie was very specific.”

I breathed through my nose. Jimin was my closest friend during my time with the crew. We thought the most alike, worked the best, and trusted one another. However, we were also hot heads. I had worked on myself tremendously over the years, but Jimin had the worst kind of anger. Talking out the mouth. And to talk to somebody in Winter Hill the way I assumed he had? Jimin was asking to lose a finger. That’s if he hadn’t already. Looking at Hoseok, he seemed to know what question I had on my mind.

“Yoongi made him cut the first joint off. I told him to write an apology letter in blood. I also sent the boss the piece in a medicine jar. Just to be sure.”

Grimacing, I rubbed my forehead. I had almost forgotten the way they do things in the mafia. The letter in blood, however, seemed more of a New York thing. I’d have to get clarification on that later. Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head.

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled absentmindedly.

On one hand, I was very angry that either of them would humiliate Jimin like that. On the other hand, I knew that the boy had put them in a very, very fucked up spot. Either they make amends and punish him or they lose the entire East Coast. If Boston doesn’t want anything to do with them, New York will become weary as well. Even if Hoseok was a Red Pull at one time, he is still an outsider. He was still just an associate. 

“What is he looking for?” I finally asked, leaning back in.

“Jewelry. Said they wanted something ‘your old girl’ would like. Said you’d know what to do.”

I smirked. Georgie Boy had always been impressed with my taste. Still, I was not sure about getting involved with all of this. In order to do so would mean helping them stake out a place and I was not going there. I had made my peace. Still, I could not help the part of me that felt excited. I squashed it like a bug.

“I’m not helping you with anything,” I said.

“I’m not asking you to,” He replied. “Just tell us if you’ve seen anything noteworthy lately.”

Dixie came back with our food and I used it as a distraction. I needed time to think. Hoseok and I ate off of one another and I continued to sit and ponder over the new things I had seen at the museum in town. I had gone many times, I had always tried to desensitize myself to the feeling I got when I walked in, but each time I looked around. I knew where every single camera was, I knew how to get into the back, and I was familiar enough with the security system to work around it. Every detail of a heist had already formed in my head that I refused to act on. Just as I knew every museum all the way up to Orange County. There were quite a few jewelers that had caught my eye as well. Still, I knew my answer after a few minutes of silence.

“His daughter’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?” I clarified, making sure my memory serves me well.

“In a few weeks,” Hoseok nodded.

“There’s a pair of earrings at Beverly Hills Jewelers,” I started. “They’re 2 carat, T.W, diamonds. They’re heart shaped. Halo. They’re beautiful.”

“Price?”

“I believe $15,000. They have some nice tennis chains as well that could match.”

He hummed, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

I nodded, “I’ll include a personalized letter as well as a ring from my own collection if that helps.”

Hoseok smiled brightly at me. I knew that had pleased him. Georgie Boy would also be happy. His little girl gets some nice gifts and he gets to wave his dick around like the narcissist is is. In my head, I was already trying to remember the layout of the store. I had only gone inside twice when I took a trip to Beverly Hills. I was having a rough day and I wanted to get back in my element for a while. Scoping out places was always a relaxing thing for me to do. I ended up buying a necklace while I was there so they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Still, I would have to see it again and show the guys what I was talking about so they could do the hit. That place was heavily secured.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok said, pushing the last piece of steak closer to me.

Grinning at him I replied, “It was an emergency.”

And then I popped the steak in my mouth and savored the taste. Just for now I would have a little bit of chaos. It would just be Hoseok and I, so that made the guilt lessen. At least this wasn’t something I would have to actually perform. Still, I thought to myself, I was incredibly bored without the little bit of chaos I had before.

Present

Laughing, I cut another piece of brown hair off. Jules stared at me, her hands covering her mouth, while she shook. She was a regular now, always got the same treatment, but when she called about her appointment last week she asked for a bob. Well, giving it to her, it was difficult to imagine just how upset she would become.

Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to show her that she was standing with her. The chemo had made chunks fall out and her mother decided to buzz her head. I had been the person to do that and give her a pamphlet of local stores she could go to and buy nice wigs. Jules, however, had called me late and said she wanted to donate her own hair for her mom. Tony had recently registered the salon with Locks of Love and trained us all in it. Sasha had been the most excited about the prospect. His mother had died from cancer when he was in highschool. 

Jules’s hair was thick, dark brown, and wavy. Everything about it was perfect and she was a dream to work with. She always took things in stride and tipped well. Today, I was worried if she would ever come back. 

Her hair was long enough that we could keep it at her shoulders. She had always kept it past her butt, just barely grazing her upper thighs, and took pride in it. I was still planning to give her plenty of highlights and a blowout- on the house. I had nothing but love for the girl and I knew how difficult this would be for her. Glancing at Tiesha, she smiled.

“Girl, what are you crying for?” She joked, parting another section of her client’s hair.

I recognized her but was not sure of her name. She always came in for installations or silk presses. Tiesha was always happy to see her, at the very least, so I knew she was a nice enough person. 

“I don’t know,” Jules whined back, sniffling and rubbing her reddening eyes.

“Now, you are too damn pretty to be looking like that,” She replied, braiding back another section. “Make an appointment with momma and I’ll hook you up.”

I scoffed, “I can do extensions, too.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re most definitely a colorist. Julie, baby, Ty will take good care of you, okay?”

“Your mom will be very happy,” Sasha chimed in, his Russian accent thick. 

Jules nodded, “Yeah, she will.”

I smiled to myself. That was the best motivator to get through this. I kept as much length as I could and I was still going to try to make her feel pretty with the new style. She had said her friends were excited but her boyfriend was conflicted. He loved her hair. That made me frown. Who the fuck says that to their girlfriend? Especially one who’s doing it for their sick mother.

“I’ve never gone this short before,” Jules said, her composure coming back. “It’s scary.”

“Don’t worry,” Sasha soothed, cleaning up from his last client. “You’ve got the best in the house. Y/N’ll take care of you.”

I winked at the boy. Sasha had grown on me considerably since he was first hired. I had not gone to Tony about his skipping after all, instead I cornered him at work and told him if he ever ditched me again I would get him fired. We were rocky after that but I knew his respect for me had gone up. A friendship blossomed when he confessed he was clueless about doing color. Sasha was an amazing stylist and his precion was otherworldly, but Destiny was right to never give him color clients. I spent a few nights helping him practice on some mannequin heads and he followed me around like a puppy. He had even agreed to clean up alone for two nights while I was in Beverly Hills helping Hoseok scope out the place. We were thick as thieves after that.

“I know that,” Jules cracked a smile. “She always takes care of me.”

“I’m flattered,” I finally said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for you.”

Her smile grew. Jules had been very excited about free coloring. I had told her I was giving myself free reign, and I wondered if she thought I was going to go manic pixie on her. Hopefully some lowlights and babylights would suffice. We had never gone darker before and I thought it would suit the new cut well. 

Cutting in her layers, I was happy with how it looked. Her hair framed her face nicely and she would still have enough length to play around with it if she wanted. Jules was a fan of those half-up, half-down looks. Using my comb, I ran through her hair and cut. So far, she had not looked back at the mirror. She seemed nervous too. 

“Do you want me to cut your bangs blunt or keep them split?” I asked.

Jules perked up, “Oh! I was actually thinking about trying a new bang style.”

I nodded, “Do you have a picture?”

She opened her gallery and pulled it up. I smiled to myself. Jameela Jamil really did pull off the schoolgirl bangs. 

“So in between?” I walked around so she was facing me. 

“Do you think it’ll look nice?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip.

I studied her face for a moment. 

“You’ll look great, but it might take some time to get used to. They’re a bit more maintenance than blunt or curtain.”

She smiled, “I figured that.”

Working quietly, I began to trim her bangs into the correct shape. They will look their best after I finish styling the rest of her hair. Jules loved it when I straightened her hair after our visits. She never had the patience for it at home and it made her feel special when she got it done here. I would have to let her know that her bangs will look pretty if she curled the longer side pieces to blend them in with her natural waves. With the cutting done, it was time to start the lowlights.

“When is your next appointment?” I asked Sasha.

He was sitting in his chair and texting someone on his phone. He glanced at me before getting back to his screen.

“About twenty minutes. He’s new.”

“Oh, a man?” Tiesha dramatically emphasized the man part. It was not often that men booked with us. Sasha had gone to barber school and did amazing work, but for some reason the idea of going to a salon bothered most men. “He from out of town?”

“I think so,” The Russian nodded. “He definitely sounded foreign. I couldn’t tell where from. Maybe Asia?”

I froze for a moment. I took a breath. There was absolutely no way that any of them would do that. Then I thought of Taehyung. Absolutely not, I scolded myself. That boy feared me more than anybody else. I would ring him by his neck and then let Yoongi know about it. Besides, I said emergencies only. They would have scheduled with me if they were trying to talk. Walking back to my chair, I placed the dye and bleach down on the metal tray next to me. Opening one of the drawers at my desk, I grabbed some latex gloves and foil.

Getting started was simple. Getting the brown, I began painting sections of her hair and foiling them. The foil was not really necessary, but I always got nervous that the parts I did not want colored would get touched. Lowlights were more sparsely added, and unlike highlights, never layers. Making my way around her head, I was excited to see if she would like it. I only went a shade darker than her natural color, so the color contrast was not extremely stark. The highlights were the most important part of the look.

Foiling the last piece of hair, I took the bowl to the sink near the back as well as the brush I was using. Tossing them in and removing my gloves, I heard the bell chime and Sasha’s customer service voice begin. No one could beat Tiesha’s, that woman had client relationships like no one I had ever met. They adored her.

“Come sit and we can get started,” Sasha seemed more excited than usual.

I guessed the guy wanted something a bit different from his normal caseload.

“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands. “Let's get this bleach started.”

Walking back into the main room, I paid no mind to the customer sitting in Sasha’s chair. Jules was FaceTiming with someone and I grinned when I recognized her mom’s voice. She seemed very cheery today.

“Oh, I love that length on you,” Martha gushed, her accent only picking up on certain words.

“Gracias, mami,” Jules beamed. “Do you think Carlos will like it?”

Martha waved her hands around animatedly when she talked. I had learned that from the many times she came to the salon with Jules. Now, she was shaking them violently.

“Who cares?”

I laughed and got to work on her highlights. 

“I said the same thing,” I chimed.

The three of us talked as I worked. Martha always enjoyed asking me about the craziest customer of the week, and I usually indulge her. This week it had been a very convoluted, pastel rainbow color job. She wanted the top half white and the bottom portion colored. She booked out my entire day, gave me hell about every insignificant detail, and then left a $2 tip. Sasha got to hear me rant and rave about it when we were cleaning that night.

“She’s never allowed in my chair again,” I finished, setting a timer for everything. 

The lowlights had been sitting for twenty minutes while the babylights would need about 15 in order to develop the way I want them to. Thinking, I was certain the lowlights would be fine going two minutes over the usual time. They would be hardly noticeable regardless. 

“You’ve had worse,” Sasha pointed out.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But those women tip well. I don’t care how rude you are- money is money. That chick is a pain in the ass without the benefits.”

“She has nothing on Kimberly,” Tiesha joked. 

I groaned, “God, don’t even put that name into the universe. She’s due back soon.”

Sasha laughed. “She does pay very well. Don’t blame you.”

“Who’s Kimberly?” Jules asked.

I gave Tiesha a look before answering her.

“She’s a regular. Tony was her go-to guy, but he’s only in twice a week and it doesn’t line up with her schedule. He sent her over to me. Let’s just say she takes picky to a new level.”

Jules snickered, “What does she like to get?”

“Usually a platinum blonde, layered cut. On paper it’s not the most difficult thing in the world, but she makes it much more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” Tiesha exclaimed. “That woman is super rude, always late, and acts like she knows everything. I’d tell that bitch to kick rocks.”

Her client laughed out loud.

“That might be true,” I reasoned, checking the foils. “But, she always tips well and shouts me out on her socials. So, can I really complain? Besides, I’m used to her.”

Checking the foils again, I was happy with the color they were and decided to take the foils off early. Stopping my timer, I asked Jules to walk over to the rinsing station. I was happy this was my last client. Sweeping up the hair, I left it in the dustpan until I was ready to begin the tedious task of preparing it for donation. Putting on a new pair of gloves, I willed this day to be over already.

I knew something was off when a new motorcycle was parked out front. Briefly checking the plates, I was even more weary when they were from Jersey. I knew far too many people in that corner of the US. Still, I told myself that it could be anybody. Perhaps one of my new neighbors was from Hobokan. That was highly unlikely, though. Eyeing the red leather jacket hanging from one of the handles, I only knew one person who owned something like that. I guess I will be seeing Jimin tonight. The thought bothered me far more than I thought it would.

Taking my time going up the stairs, I considered calling Hoseok and demanding to know why Park was sniffing around my apartment. I knew I should have moved out, should have tried something new, but the thought of leaving the only home I ever knew bothered me. Using the time climbing to my advantage, I slowly steeled myself. Jimin could smell weakness from a mile away. He was also one person who could convince me to do bad things.

The excitement that ran through me at the idea sickened me.

Starting at the 4 on the door, I braced myself. When I walked into that hallway all traces of the new me had to disappear. There can be no laughter, no crying, and no open hostility. I would have to be a blank slate. With one small breath, I pulled the door and went into the hall.

There wasn’t a body in sight, but I knew better than to go off of that. Jimin could get into my apartment with relative ease. No one would notice either. Everyone else that lived was too busy making ends meet to pay attention to the stranger sneaking into my house.

Taking my keys out of my purse, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I could smell him. It was, however, not Jimin. Jimin only wore Orange Blossom by Jo Malone. Whoever this was smelled like baby powder and flowers. My guard completely up now, I continued further into the studio and kicked the door closed behind me. Whoever it was, I knew had been standing behind the door. The smell was not as potent as it had been before. 

Going into the kitchen, I shrugged my coat off before throwing it behind me. I heard it hit something and it was a blur after that. I quickly snatched a kitchen knife from the drying rack and threw myself to the ground. The man grabbed my hands. Kicking his inner thigh, I rolled from underneath him and shot up. He threw his arms up.

“Stop!”

Ignoring him, I threw the knife. The man reacted quickly, catching the blade in between his hands before throwing it down on the floor. While he was distracted, I slid on the floor and grabbed the pistol from under my bed. Pointing it at the man, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Without saying anything, I aimed for his left shoulder and fired. The silencer muzzled the shot, though the pop was still nasty. It worked better with a pillow added to the equation. I doubted any of my neighbors would notice the sound, however. The man shouted, stumbled back, and leaned against the fridge.

“You shot me,” He exclaimed, shocked.

“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, aimed for his other shoulder.

“You wait to ask me after you-”

I shot again. He gritted his teeth and sank to the floor. The wounds were leaking blood but I tried to not let it bother me. This guy broke into my house. This time, I aimed for his right knee.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

“Jungkook,” The man, Jungkook, answered. “I’m with The Saints.”

Lowering the barrel of the gun, I stared at him for a second. He was with my crew? Since when? 

“Who sent you?” I asked, aiming at his chest now.

If he was going to get found out, he might be more inclined to lunge before I could call anyone.

“Yoongi.”

Slowly, I reached into my back pocket and got my phone. I was relieved the screen hadn’t cracked during the outfall. Slowly, keeping my eyes on Jungkook, I started typing in the number I knew by heart. If he was lucky, Yoongi would pick up. If not, then we weren’t moving until someone did. After the second ring, a rough voice greeted me.

“August.”

Training my gun on his head, I spoke.

“There’s someone claiming they know you in my apartment.”

After a few seconds, Yoongi’s voice was hard when he replied.

“Who is it?”

“Says his name is Jungkook,” I replied evenly.

I was fully prepared to pull the trigger. Jungkook stared the barrel down without fear. I only hoped he would go down quickly and quietly. 

Yoongi sighed harshly, “Fucking Jimin.”

Gripping the handle tightly, I placed my finger on the trigger. I only needed the okay now.

“He’s fine,” Yoongi was annoyed. “I sent Jimin but I guess he got the kid to go instead.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the gun down. Jungkook visibly relaxed then and moaned in pain. Raising a hand, he cradled his left shoulder and hissed in pain. 

“Fucked him up,” I admitted. “He was in my apartment when I got home.”

Yoongi hummed, “Take care of him. He’ll let you know what’s going on. We have a problem.”

He hung up before I could respond.

I hated when he did that. I had no idea who Jungkook was, or what he was here to tell me, but we were on the same team. And I just shot him. Twice. Putting the gun back in its original spot, I reached a little further behind it and retrieved my first aid kit. Jungkook sagged in relief. 

“Sorry,” I apologized, helping him take his shirt off. “Didn’t realize you were with us.”

Jungkook hissed when I applied alcohol to the wounds. It would take me a while to get his patched up, but I was capable of doing it. Years of friendship with The Saints would do that to you. Looking at Jungkook, I was taken aback by how attractive he was.

All of the Saints were good looking, but this guy had an aura about him. His hair was wild, pitch black, and down to his shoulders. His skin was gently tanned with small moles dotted sporadically across his body. What caught my attention the most was the shiny, silver lip ring he donned. That was an oddity in our world.

“My fault, shouldn’t have broken in without a warning,” He replied.

“I saw the bike outside and thought you were Jimin.”

He hummed then winced. I knew those bullets did not feel nice. Taking my time and trying to be gentle, I used a pair of tweezers to get them out. Jungkook bit his lip so hard he drew blood. 

“Yeah,” He breathed out. “Let me borrow it for the ride.”

“Park,” We both knew what I meant by that.

For the next hour we sat in silence. He let me work and I listened to every sharp intake of breath, groan, and moan. I felt guilty about everything, but I also had a certain level of apathy. The guy was nobody to me. Not really. Same crew doesn’t mean we’re friends. Still, if they sent him here then that meant they trusted him enough to come. That told me a lot about him.

After I placed gauze over the stitches, Jungkook finally spoke again.

“Jin hyung said you were harmless,” He chuckled. “I’ll let him know he’s wrong.”

Ignoring his comment, I went to find him something to wear. I doubted he would be able to fit any of my things. He was huge, a tall man with big arms, but I could make something work. Grabbing a loose fitting dress, I threw it to him.

“I don’t have anything for a man, so that will have to do.”

He nodded and put the dress on without complaint.

“I’ll pick up something for you later,” I continued. “Did you come alone?”

Jungkook shook his head, “Hyung’s around. He was going to come but an old friend called so he sent me.”

“Kai?” I wondered, already knowing the answer. 

Jimin and Kai were good friends. They had known one another since they were kids and got involved in crime together. I’d only met the guy in passing the few times he had visited Boston, but I was not very familiar with him. I knew he was a drug runner on the west coast but that was where my knowledge stopped.

“Yeah, said they had business or something.”

I hummed, “Would you like to lay down for a moment?”

Jungkook was very obviously in pain. He tried to deny it for a minute but ultimately took my offer. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a can of Ginger Ale and gave it to him. He accepted it readily.

“Sorry about the gun,” I offered, sitting on the floor. “Jin’s right. I’m usually pretty harmless. I didn’t even own a gun until I left The Saints.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting company.”

Opening my own drink, I eyed him. He was far too calm. My guess was this was not his first time being shot. Trying to find other wounds was pointless, however, he was too clothed. I hadn’t even thought to check when I was helping him earlier.

“Why’d you come inside anyway?” I asked.

Jungkook grinned ruefully.

“Hyung said he’d call you.”

That pulled a laugh out of me. Park probably forgot about it. For someone as dangerous as he was, he could be irresponsible. I remember when we were scoping a jewelry store together a few years back, Jimin had completely forgotten where the cameras were by the time we left. I had to go back myself a few days later to make sure his guesses were right. We had never let him live it down. Yoongi did not think it was very funny.

“Typical,” I said.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed. He was so completely at ease in my presence it was unnerving. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked at him in bewilderment. He was so much like Taehyung, trusting and easy going. It was difficult to imagine what role he played in the crew. He could have taken my place but I doubted he was as good. He had come here, hid behind my door, and then ambushed me. Then he was surprised when I acted like he was an enemy. Chuckling, I put my drink down. Yeah, just like Taehyung.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes still closed.

Wiping the smile off my face, I replied. “Just thinking.”

We did not talk again. I was sure Jungkook had dozed off, but he kept waking back up again. Getting up, I began looking for some pain medicine to no avail. I had not needed to put myself to sleep in a long time. Grabbing my keys from the floor, I told Jungkook I was heading out for a bit. I got no response. Patting myself down, I knew I did not have my phone and picked it up from beside the bed. Jungkook was lightly snoring.

Slipping from the room, I locked up and went downstairs. Typing in the last number I had for Jimin, I was not surprised that it was no longer in service. He changed phones like you change clothes. Deciding to call Taehyung, I went to my contacts to find him. He was the only person I saved.

“Hello?” His voice was deep and hoarse. 

Glancing at the time, I realized it was much later than I thought. 

“Sorry about the time,” I replied. “It’s Mouse.”

I heard shuffling on the other side. Taehyung had gotten himself a girlfriend, Jennie, and I was almost positive she was relatively clueless about his life. The last time I talked to Hoseok, he had said she thought he was a tech guy who was helping a start up. He must have been with her now if his silence was anything to go by.

“Sorry,” He said, voice low. “I’m not alone.”

“I just need Park’s number and you can get back to bed.”

Saying the numbers slowly, I typed them into my keypad as I made my way through the dark streets. 

“Thanks,” I stopped walking once I got to the gas station around the corner. “Get some sleep.”

“It was good to hear your voice,” He replied, more awake than he had been. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Night, V.”

“Night, Mouse.”

Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and walked into the store. It was deserted except for the cashier. Giving me a stiff nod, I ignored the man before going to the back of the store and getting some bottled water. I never trusted the tap in the building. Afterwards, I got a bottle of Nyquil and Advil before going to the register.

“Let me get a pack of Marlboro Black Menthols,” I told the cashier.

Taking out my phone, I took my ID from the attached wallet as well as my debit card. The man held the pack of cigarettes and took my ID. Briefly looking it over, he scanned the barcode before scanning the cigarettes. Handing the ID back to me, he began scanning my other items before bagging them.

“Your total is $26.87.”

Nodding, I inserted my card and typed my pin. Putting my card back into the small wallet, I put my phone into my pocket and took the bag.

“Have a good night,” I said.

“You too,” He replied.

Leaving the store, I opened up my keypad and pressed the call button. Jimin picked up after four rings.

“Hello?” He answered, voice brightly and bubbly.

He always answered unknown numbers like that just in case. Jimin always prioritized having the upper hand over anything else. Anyone looking for Park would never connect him to the voice on the other side. I, however, was familiar enough with him to see through the facade.

“You got your boy hit,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I had to give him a dress and Nyquil after popping two in him.”

Jimin laughed loudly, his fake voice gone. This was why we were friends. Our senses of humor were far too warped due to our upbringings. In another world we would have been enemies belonging to different clans, but I liked this timeline far more. Park was a great guy when you looked past the insecurities, anger issues, and tendency to seek violence.

“Jungkook’s wearing a dress?” He exclaimed, still laughing. “God, you have to take a picture for me.”

I rolled my eyes, “Explain why he’s here. I would ask him but I stepped out to get some medicine for him.”

Jimin’s laughter abruptly cut off. That feeling of dread returned. If Park was getting serious then that meant whatever the situation was must be more than I thought it would be. I was expecting them to need me to help them with a heist, but I was getting the feeling it might be more than that. Jimin sighed.

“I can’t get into specifics right now, but you need to get the fuck out of California.”

Going up the stairs of my complex, I paused. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not safe here anymore.”

Growing angry, I shouted. “Enough with the cryptic messages, Park!”

Continuing to go up, I kept looking around every corner I went to. This was the worst fucking timing I could have had. Things were finally going well for me, I had friends and a job that I actually liked, and I had to give it all up again. Tears filling my eyes, I shoved open my door and slammed it behind me.

“I told you I can’t get into specifics, but there’s a reason I’m with Kai right now. You and Jungkook need to get out of that apartment as soon as possible. I don’t care where you go but you need to leave.”

Jungkook sprung up when I kicked the edge of my bed. Pointing to my phone, I mouth ‘Jimin.’ Getting on my knees, I pulled out my duffle bag from underneath the bed and threw it at the other man. He looked at me when he stood up. I noticed the way he winced and held up the bag in my hand.

“Copy,” Was all I replied.

“Get to Boston. Don’t take the truck.”

“Give me something to work with,” I demanded, taking the Advil out of the bag and tossing it to Jungkook. “I can’t be blind.”

“Cмерть не за горами.”

My entire world stopped spinning. I could hear my heart beating, feel my lungs pushing the air out of my body, while my eyes were frozen. Every single inch of my skin shivered, goosebumps springing up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was no heist. 

Hanging up on Jimin, I went to the window above my bed and opened it. Throwing the phone as far as I could, I turned to find Jungkook waiting for instructions. Staring at him, I decided to take a leap of faith.

“Ты один из нас?” I asked.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

Gritting my teeth, I snatched the duffle from him. Jungkook continued waiting for me to tell him what to do. I pointed to my bathroom.

“Take everything from the mirror cabinet and put it in the bag. After that, grab what you can from the wardrobe and stuff it. Only take one pair of shoes and a pair of heels. That’s all I’ll need.”

He got to work quickly. Going back to the bed, I took out my gun and the spare ammo I kept locked up at the very back corner. Placing the ammo in the duffle, I took my first aid kit from the kitchen floor and tossed it in as well. 

“Do you have a gun?” I asked Jungkook.

“Yeah,” He replied. “It’s in the jacket downstairs. I thought you would feel more comfortable if I wasn’t armed.”

Packing my small makeup collection, I felt myself shutting down. Bad girls don’t have feelings, and I was fucking heartless. Yes, I told myself, heartless. It was harder to pretend now than it had been, I was rusty and in desperate need of a distraction. The thought of finding my old family in the shadows was always frightening, but the thought of them looking for me was far more unsettling.

“Done,” Jungkook announced.

Realizing I had zoned out, I quickly put my makeup in the duffle bag and closed it. I had no time to dwell or be afraid. Heartless, Mouse, Heartless. I hated that name. Shaking my head, I pulled myself together enough to sling the duffle over my shoulder. Jungkook went to take it but I held my hand up.

“You’re not carrying this with your injuries. Just take that bag and this-” I handed him my gun. “I don’t know how quick you are but it’s probably better than me. I’m rusty.”

He nodded and we made our way down the stairs. Thinking, I began to categorize the cars that were in the parking lot and on the street. My truck was near the front but the streets were shrouded in light at this time. Jungkook’s bike was also out front. The back had security cameras but was pitch black at this time. I decided the front was the risk I was more willing to take and went through the hallway door on the first floor. Passing the doors, I paid no mind to Jungkook. He was capable and stayed in step with me effortlessly. 

We would drive for a few hours, probably stopping at a diner so I could get another car, and keep going until we hit Arizona or New Mexico. I had not decided yet. Going out the front doors, I waved Jungkook away while I walked down the street. He went to get his jacket but left the bike behind. He was back beside me in a few seconds. 

Crossing the street, I had my eyes on a Honda Accord parked on the curb. It was definitely a ‘97 model. I could start her up in a heartbeat. Unzipping one of the side pockets of my bag, I pulled out a switchblade and zipped it back up. Going to the driver’s side, Jungkook stayed at my back while I tried the handle. To my surprise, it opened. Stepping to the side, I gently tapped Jungkook’s back. Turning, he quickly shoved the gun into the backseat as I opened the door. After seeing that the coast was clear, I motioned for him to go around the car while I popped the truck. He said it was fine.

Nodding at him, I got into the car. Kicking the steering wheel, I heard the column lock break before swapping the ECUs. Taking my knife, I ripped off the lower center cover. Getting back out of the car, I opened the backseat and threw my duffle inside. Putting my knife back in its pocket, I opened the long side pocket along the front and pulled out my old screwdriver. This was far from the first jacking I had done.

Getting back into the car, I began to pry the steel cover away. Asking Jungkook for a light, I waited while he pulled out his phone from the pocket of the red jacket. He was lucky no one had taken it. With the flashlight on, I turned the switch from off, past run, to start. The car came to life instantaneously. Waving the light away, I threw the screwdriver into the center console and placed the car in drive. Finally closing the driver’s side door, I peeled off into the night.

The radio came to life and Amy Winehouse sang loudly as I got onto the I-5.

“Til’ the chips were down

Know you were a gambling man.

Love is a losing hand.”

Jungkook was very quiet. I had just followed exit sounds and continued to drive toward Arizona. It was the least exciting state, and the people who lived there were far too judgemental outside of Phoenix, but it was the best way to get to the airport. That airport was far too big and strangely laid out that I knew we would be difficult to pick out in a crowd. Glazing over at Jungkook, he was holding the pack of cigarettes I had bought earlier.

“They’re for Jimin,” I suddenly said, switching lanes. “They were his favorite last time I saw him.”

“I think he’s smoking Camels now,” Jungkook replied.

“Can’t win them all.”

Sighing, I relaxed a bit more in my seat. So far, we have not been followed. Then again, I could be missing something. Tracking was not a strong suit of mine, and in my experience, the Russians were very, very evasive when they wanted to be. Still, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. 

“How do you know the boys in Brighton?” Jungkook asked, voice quiet and soft.

I thought about it for a moment. It was a rather long story, but knowing that we were familiar with the same people made it feel easier. Deciding to probe him for information first, I formed a plan in my head on how to go about this conversation.

“Have you ever heard of the person called Pыбка?” I asked, my American accent showing through. It had been a very, very long time since I had spoken Russian, and even then it had always been a second language that I learned from my time with the Shulaya.

“Ivan’s girl, right? The one who was murdered a few years back? What about her?”

Sparing him a quick glance, I spoke.

“Do I look dead to you?”

Jimin and I had known one another longer than anyone else in The Saints. He had been the last person to join the crew, and was deep within the Shulaya before he went to Jersey to join Hoseok’s team. I would never forget the look on his face the first time he saw me, or the fact that it took him all of ten minutes to get fully committed to keeping me safe. Everyone called me Mouse. Jin had come up with it after joking about me being able to live in someone’s attic and they would never know. It caught on and it was the only name anyone on the streets knew about. The ‘Little Fish’ of Shulaya long forgotten after the first two years of hiding. However, it seemed like my face had been seen by somebody and Ivan was not happy about my disappearing act. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook said in awe. “We’re so fucked.”

I laughed, “Have some faith. Ivan is scary, but he’s also impulsive. I know him better than most and trust me- he doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Between Boston and NYC, I doubt he’ll get very far into their territory without raising hell.”

Jungkook made a strange noise.

“I’d be far more afraid of Yoongi than any of those Wiseguys.”

Scoffing, I saw the exit I needed to take in order to pull up at the last Holiday Inn before the long stretch of nothing at all. Jungkook seemed to see where my mind was going and began to look out of the window. After briefly going over what food options we had, we landed on Taco Bell. 

Ordering our food was simple enough. Jungkook was a huge tomato hater and was very upset to find that his Crunch Wrap had been ‘ruined.’ The motel seemed to have a few quests and I hoped we could get a room. Jungkook offered to pay. The frontdesk lady was kind and found us a room within 5 minutes. 

Using the elevator, I asked Jungkook if he still had the ‘thing’ with him. He nodded but said no more. It was probably better that way. Throwing my duffle bag onto my bed, I realized that Jungkook was still wearing a dress with the pants he had come inside in. 

Digging through my bag, I found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him well enough as well as an oversized nightshirt I rarely ever wore. I usually slept naked. Tonight, I will try to make my partner feel comfortable.

Throwing the clothes on his bed, Jungkook perked up a bit and seemed to be fine with their sizes. I wondered if he had been wearing more uncomfortable clothes at one time and shook my head. He had walked into this motel wearing that. Yes, Y/N, he has definitely been far more uncomfortable than tightly sweats. 

“You can take the bathroom first,” I pointed to the door. “You need it more than I do.”

Jungkook nodded, “Would you mind helping me get out of this thing? It still hurts to move my arms around too much.

Looking at him, I pinned him with an unimpressed look. We were not having one of those moments. Still looking at Jungkook, I unzipped the pouching with my switchblade in it and pulled the knife out. Walking to Jungkook, I quickly worked on the right side of the fabric. The left side was even quicker. Gently lifting his arm just enough to see his armpit, I cut the short sleeve from the bottom, following up with the top, and up the high neckline. Repeating it on the other side, the blood-soaked garment pooling to the floor. 

Jungkook seemed frozen. Looking at his face, his eyes were wide and staring at the blade in my hand. Thinking he might be uncomfortable with me standing so close to him with a weapon, I walked back to my bed.

“If you need help getting the shirt on, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied.

Picking up the spare clothes, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The water was on a few seconds later. Fully alone in the room, I looked around and decided to throw out the dress. With the torn up dress safely put away in my duffle, I tried to figure out what to do while I waited. 

Taking Jungkook’s phone off of his bed (he used a flip phone just like Yoongi did on the job), I quickly found my way to the contacts. Hovering over Jimin’s number, I paused. Not thinking about it for too long, I pressed it and placed my phone to my ear. He answered quickly.

“Where are you?” Jimin asked, voice very low.

“Are you safe to talk?” I replied, voice just as low.

I could hear the way Jimin rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving his lips.

“I’m fine,” His voice was still soft. “I’m at a casino right now. Did you steal his phone?”

My blood ran cold. Most of our guys loved gambling, but Jimin had always thought it was a dumb pastime. I knew Ivan had been trying to expand the Russian influence in Los Angeles, and I hoped that he knew what he was doing. Jimin tended to run into situations without contemplating everything. Instead of grilling him, I decided to ease his worries.

“We’re safe. Heading east.” I looked around the room distractedly. “And no. I’m using it while he’s taking a shower.”

Jimin sighed in relief, “Kook is a good guy. He’ll keep you safe long enough to make it back to Boston. I’ll be on my way back in a few hours.”

It was better to keep things vague. Just like I had not said where we were headed, Jimin’s answer could mean anything. I heard Jungkook cry out but he was quiet soon after. I hoped the work I had done was keeping. I had told him to keep the stitches covered.

“See you soon,” I forced a smile on my face. “I got you a pack of cigarettes.”

Jimin laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal.

“Stay safe. I have to go.”

I hung up without another word. If he had to go then he had to go. The shower was still running and I was bored again. Looking at the door, I was tempted to walk around for a while. I had a feeling I would get myself into trouble if I did, but I was curious to see if I could get some extra clothes for Jungkook. Possibly a set of car keys, too. Looking at the bathroom door, I figured he was going to be there for a while.

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.

Getting my room key, I slipped out of the room quietly. 

The hallway was deserted, not a body in sight, but I had a feeling I could get something if I looked hard enough. Going to the elevator, I spotted a young couple laughing. Slowing my walk, I was happy to see that they were getting on the elevator.

Angling my body, I was practically jumping up and down when my eye caught on their room key. This would be too easy. The elevator chimed signaling someone was getting off. Quickly moving my body, I relied on their clinginess to sneak into the corridor without a problem. A group of people pooled out of the elevator and I drifted into their numbers.

The couple stood to the side and waited for us to pass. Using my foot, I tripped a young woman in front of me. She stumbled while I placed myself in a position to trip over her. The both of us dropped. The woman fell into the man. Falling, I shuffled closer to the man’s hand while the woman began apologizing profusely.

Quickly snatching the card from him, I slipped it into my pocket while I stood up. Adjusting my clothes, I quickly apologized as well. The couple waved the both of us off, seemingly unbothered, before getting on the elevator. Nodding to the woman, I turned toward the way the couple had come from. Looking at the keycard, I made my way toward the door with the number on it. I was lucky the woman and I had similar hair styles, but I was aware of Holiday Inn well enough to say that most of their cameras did not work.

Glancing up at the camera in the middle of the hallway, I was positive it was not working. Typically there would be a small, red dot that showed it was recording. Today, it was off. Letting myself in, I knew I had to be quick and clean.

Tonight I would only get clothes. Car keys were something I would have to snatch in the morning over breakfast. Someone would notice their keys missing in the middle of the night. Locating a large, black suitcase on the floor by the foot of the bed, I pulled it up onto the bed and unzipped it.

Carefully sifting through the clothes, I only pulled out enough for two outfits before gently placing everything back smoothly. They would probably be a bit big on Jungkook, but I doubted he would mind very much. I swore he was wearing a belt, but I had not been paying enough attention to know for sure. 

Going to the pockets of the bag, I was happy to find a container of hair pomade and hoped it might make Jungkook happy. He would be able to do his hair if he wanted. Grabbing a pack of hair bands and a pair of boxers, I was ready to leave. Going into the dresser, I pulled out the complimentary bag they gave every guest, I shoved the clothes in it before leaving the room. With the keycard in my hand, I dropped it in the spot the couple had been before making my way back to my own room.

Jungkook was sitting on his bed drying his hair when I came in. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt I had given him. I was glad he was able to get it on alone, but I felt bad I had not been here to help him. Holding up the bag, I tossed it his way.

“The first robbery I’ve done in four years,” I shook my head. “You should feel special.”

Jungkook opened the bag and grinned at me. His hair went just past his shoulders when it was wet, his fluffy curls weighed down by the water. Sifting through the bag, he seemed the happiest about the hair ties. 

Getting my own clothes, I let him know I was going to take a shower. Getting under the hot water was a healing experience, and for the first time today I let a few tears slip out.

I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly- pissed.

Twelve years ago

Hands bound, I let my body relax. Ivan’s eyes were blazing, his anger palpable, but I refused to look away. He would never think I was weak again. Walking closer, the Russian yanked me up roughly, one of the straps of my sundress breaking.

“What the fuck did you do?” He seethed, his accent thick and almost incoherent through gritted teeth. “You always ruin everything you touch.”

Slowly, and with great care, I pooled spit into my mouth. With a quick gurgle, I spit in Ivan’s eye. My rebellion had angered just as much as it had excited Ivan. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, his hands burning my skin. Slamming me down, Ivan roared in anger before delivering a swift kick to my stomach.

Gasping, I tried my hardest to keep the vomit down. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wished I was with Alexei. He would never have treated me like this. As if the thought had transferred over to the man beside me, he kicked me again.

“Alexei is dead, Лох,” He shouted. “You’re mine now.”

With another swift kick, I cried out. Then, without warning my stomach twisted. Another kick. Finally, I threw up all over the concrete floor beneath me. 

For now. I was yours for now.

Present

With a new set of car keys in my hand, I walked into the parking lot. Jungkook was on the phone, but quickly hung up when he saw me approaching. Raising an eyebrow at him, I waved him over and we began walking together. Clicking the unlock button, I smiled when I saw the yellow Porsche. The two of us placed our things inside without a care in the world and drove off quickly after. 

I had found the targets for today the night before while walking around the hotel late last night. It was a young woman and her mother. The two of them had been a whirlwind and gave the staff hell. Unable to sleep, my head headaches from exhaustion, and their bickering only pissed me off more. Unfortunately for them, they had made a big show of their money and decided to brag about their car.

It took a few minutes to switch out license plates and even less time to steal her car keys this morning during breakfast. They were staying for another day and had not planned on leaving the hotel at all. Jungkook laughed once we were a safe distance away.

“I’m still in shock at that woman’s entitlement,” He shook his head. “Did you see the way she flipped out when they ran out of bacon before her ‘precious angel’ could get any?”

Chuckling, I kept my attention on the road.

“Her attitude was the only reason I swiped this thing. I would never get into something so obvious.”

“It was as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

Feeling confident from the jacking, I decided to play along.

“Do you steal from babies often?”

Jungkook giggled cutely, “I’ve cut down to twice a year.”

“Oh?”

“Halloween-” He counted with one finger, and lifted another, “-and Easter.”

“Easter?” My eyebrows pulled in as I laughed incredulously.

Jungkook grinned lazily. 

“Stockings are so last year.”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think of him as a member of the mafia. While my age had made others test my abilities far more often than the others I never believed anyone doubted who I was. There was a look in your eye, this coldness, that separated you from the rest. I could pick out a killer in a line up- we were one in the same. However, Jungkook was impossible to get a read on. His boyish charms and good looks were not uncommon, but the innocence in his smile and the brightness that remained in his eyes were unsettling. Everything about him was unnerving. He was disarming and that alone was frightening.

Realizing the car had become quiet, I turned the radio on. It was a habit of mine. I did not like the silence. I hated it. Some trashy pop song blasted but I did not care. Jungkook did and began to look for something he liked more.

“What do you like?” He asked, pressing the screen to change the stations.

“Pick whatever,” I replied, flipping off the guy who cut me off.

Arizona was the worst state I had ever been to. The drive was not as awful as Texas, nothing will ever beat the twelve hours of hell to still be in that damned state, but it was not much better. Outside of Phoenix the towns were not as grand. Tucson gave her a run for her money, but never came close to the busy city. Driving through the desert, I asked Jungkook to pull up the directions to the airport. I no longer knew my way.

“How did you meet the guys?” I asked, eyes on the road.

Jungkook picked a pop station and leaned back in his seat.

“Through Jimin,” He replied. “They needed help dealing with someone. I had just left New York and we ran into each other in Vegas. I liked everyone so I decided to join.”

Raising an eyebrow, I quickly turned my head so he could see my expression.

“Ivan let you leave?”

“I wasn’t a member,” Jungkook mumbled. “Just an acquaintance. I was for hire.”

That was not what I had expected. Jungkook did not seem like a killer, but I had been proven wrong many times. When I lived with my parents I had met many assassins I would have never guessed who they were just looking at them. Even talking with them it was impossible to detect. Looking at the man, I found it hard to believe that we were from the same background. While I had ran from that life, Jungkook ran toward it with open arms. In fact, he seemed to pay it little mind.

“What family are you from?” I asked. “My family was under The Table.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re from the Underground?”

I nodded, “I never really wanted that life. I’m a much better thief anyway.”

Jungkook rubbed his bottom lip. I forced myself to focus on the road. Even if we were the only people out here, I did not want to risk anything. I had stolen the car and the plate and getting stuck out here would be hell.

“I’m with Sacarii.”

The Sacarii was the sister organization to The Table. While my family had mostly dealt with members of gangs and high profile families, members of the Sacarii were the people who went after other assassins. Stealing another look at Jungkook, I looked at the tattoos on his arm and tried to find his symbol. All of us got one, mine was a tiger on my right side, but the ink was too difficult to look at while driving.

“I have a tiger lily,” Jungkook said, noticing my assessment. “I have a few of them, actually.”

Lilies are from Japan, but I knew Jungkook was Korean. His name alone gave him away. Waving my hand, I asked him to explain when he got it.

“My family moved to Japan when I was fifteen. I had my first kill there so we decided that I would get something to represent that. The prayer hands on my back were done by the organization after the ordainment.”

Ordainments were very common. It was the process an assassin went through to become an official member of their organization. Their families were no longer defined by blood but the common experiences each one shared. The Table and the Sacarii were one big family, but oftentimes we did not get along with one another. Civil at best and competition at worst. Prayer hands with a rosary were the tattoos everyone got. It was large, covering the entire center of the back, with the family oath written above and below it. 

“I never got mine,” I admitted. “I ran off before my ceremony. That’s when I met Alexei.”

“How old were you?”

Smiling sadly, I replied. “Thirteen.”

“Oh,” He said. “I didn’t know they got people that young.”

“Well, he saw me kill someone and wanted to keep me. I doubt you knew him- he died a few years ago.”

Jungkook nodded, “Yeah. What was he like?”

Laughing, I spotted a gas station and decided to stop. We were at half a tank, but I wanted to be safe. Jungkook took out his wallet and handed me a twenty. 

“He was a better man than his brother,” I answered, taking the money. “He knew how to stay calm and respect other people. Alexei always kept good relationships with the other families. Ivan is an idiot who can’t handle criticisms of any kind.”

“He’s that awful? I mean, I only know him through brief meetings.”

“I’d rather be dead than serve him again,” I opened my door. “But you already know that.”

Settling in my seat, I glanced over at Jungkook. He looked tired and I let him know it was fine to sleep. He nodded and slipped his eyes closed shortly after. Taking my new phone out of my pocket, I decided to make a quick phone call before we took off. Jungkook and I had picked up a flip phone from Walmart on our way to the airport. It was more secure than any smartphone. Dialing the number, I waited.

“Hello?” Hoseok picked up.

“I’m landing in Massachusetts,” I replied, knowing he was aware of the situation by now. It had been a day and a half. “Pick me up at our spot.”

“Jin will be there.”

“Copy.”

Hoseok sighed heavily, “Is the kid okay? Heard you shook him up.”

Glancing at Jungkook, I was shocked he was snoring. 

“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s definitely in pain, and tries to keep his movement to a minimum, but hides it from me. Attempts to, I should say.  I took care of him as best I could but Agust should get his hands on his ASAP.”

Hoseok hummed and I knew he was nodding. He was a very animated, lively person and could not sit still for long. He got into a fist fight with a Russian who took offense to his hand movements. 

“See you when I see you.”

“Three o’clock,” I said before hanging up.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I finally buckled my seat. Shaking Jungkook awake, I told him to put his belt on. He grinned at me lazily before doing it. He fell asleep again quickly. 

Happy to have a window seat, I watched as we began to take off. It had been a while since I was on a plane. The last time was when I was running to California as quickly as I could. Kansas had been nice when I had first left The Saints, but it quickly became suffocating. The silence and mundane town life made my skin crawl. California had seemed like it would be better, more fun, but it had become just as mundane after a while. 

I had always gotten bored easily. It was why I enjoyed pickpocketing. As a kid, my little hands and unassuming looks had made it easy. I never planned on getting good at it. At the time it felt less damning in comparison to what the people in my life wanted me to do. 

There was a time when I was happy killing, pleasing my family had always felt good, but that faded when my teenage years approached. Running away to New York was a quick, impulsive decision I had made when I was afraid of my future. Staring at the clear, blue sky, I scoffed. 

I had run away from one hell into another. I went from that one into another. The Saints were my family, but I would be lying if I said I felt they were any different from what I had always done. Kansas had been my first attempt at normalcy, and San Diego had been me living in that world.

And I loved it, in my own way. It was nice to have a routine. It felt good to have friends, even if they were the most surface level friendships I could allow myself to have, and I owned my own things. I had earned what I had. 

Now I was flying back to a place I was not sure I belonged anymore. I felt two halves of myself fighting one another. One half wanted to run again, to disappear, and get as far away from this place as possible. Then there was the other side of me, the twisted, dark, nasty side of myself that was reveling in all of this. My excitement was hard for me to figure out, and I began to doubt myself.

Had I ever really wanted this life? Has it all been a dream? A fantasy of a perfectly serene, normal, and legal lifestyle I had never known? Finding a cloud, I rubbed my temples and sighed. 

I doubted I would ever have an answer to that question.

Five years ago

Standing around the table, all of us went over the plan again. They were doing construction on the roof, so that would be the quickest, and easiest, point of entrance. I would go first while Hoseok and Jin dressed as police officers to take out the security guards in the back. Taehyung would take care of the cameras before this. Yoongi would follow behind me along with Jimin. I would lead the team after we had taken over the museum.

Looking over at Jimin, he was already looking at me. Everyone knew that this would be my last mission, and he had taken it the worst. We hardly spoke and he actively ignored me. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all. Breaking eye contact, I went back to explaining the pieces we would be taking.

“Don was very specific about these three pieces,” I said, pointing to the Rembrandt and two pieces of jewelry. “These are our high payouts. Get these first. After that we can make quick work of the rest.”

“Who did you say the others were going to?” Yoongi asked.

“The rest are split up between some vendors I know,” I replied. “Freddie Newman, Diane Pollack, and Dwayne Smith. The jewels are for Georgie Boy, Archie, and two others. Park’s handling that.”

“This is a big job,” Hoseok mumbled. “Will the six of us be able to get it done?”

I nodded easily. 

“Yes, we’ll have all the time in the world once those guards are taken care of. I’m planning on this being an hour- two at most.”

Looking back at Jimin, I was happy to see he was grinning at me. We would be fine. Deciding we had gone over everything, I walked away from the table. 

“We’ll leave at midnight.”

“Copy,” Jimin replied.

Smiling to myself, I left the room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

Getting off the plane, I kept Jungkook close as we made our way to baggage claim. Being on the East Coast again was uncomfortable. I knew this airport like the back of my hand, knew every nook and cranny of these streets, but I still felt out of place. I was even more unsettled knowing there were people looking for me. 

Standing by the conveyor belt, we waited for my duffle bag to come out. Jungkook looked around, his scouting looking natural, and I kept my eyes on the bags. It came out a few minutes later, and I slung it over my shoulder. Jungkook wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.

“They’re here,” He whispered, a soft smile on his face. Lips brushing the top of my head, he started walking and kept me close. “They don’t know me, so we’ll be fine.”

Forcing a smile on my face, I wrapped my arm around his waist. My heartbeat quickened, and I found myself enjoying the way his body pressed into mine. Allowing myself a small glance around us, I saw two familiar faces near the escalators. Dimitri and Anton. As we neared the escalators, I knew they would notice me unless I acted very differently than what they remembered. 

Deciding to commit to our charade, I lifted my head up towards Jungkook. Kissing his cheek, I was able to hide my face from the two men. Jungkook stepped onto the elevator first. Turning him to face me, I grabbed his face and pressed our lips together. He was soft, gentle, and tasted like the licorice he’d gotten on the plane. He wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into the kiss. Pulling away, head pressed against his, I looked at the steps. 

“We’re almost at the top,” I mumbled.

Jungkook nodded and slowly moved away from me. Angling his body towards the front, he kept an arm firmly around my waist as we got to the top. Sparing a single glance behind me, the two men were none the wiser. Smirking, I ran my hand up and down Jungkook’s back in silent praise. 

Walking further and further away from the others, Jungkook’s arm did not move. I stayed close to his side, happy to have someone to lean on. It made sense now. Jimin sent him because he was less known to the others. Ivan would know him, and the people closest to him, but someone like Anton would be blindsided by his presence. They were expecting one of my boys. Stepping into the sun, the two of us were quick to hail down a taxi and slip inside. 

“We’re running a bit late,” I announced, buckling in. “Can you take us to the Hood Milk Bottle?”

“No problem,” The cab driver replied.

It was barely a 10 minute drive, but airport traffic made it feel like forever. Jungkook and I did not talk. Our closeness from earlier was officially stopped, and I felt silly for missing his warmth. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I grew shy. Just moments ago, his arms were wrapped around me. Catching sight of the tiger lily on his elbow, I had to quickly look back out of the window.

God, he was fucking hot.

Pulling out my phone, I found a new message on it. 

Unknown: Eating a lobster roll outside

Rolling my eyes, I replied.

Y/N: Of course you are. Two minutes.

Unknown: Lunch on me

Flipping the phone closed, I shoved it back in my back pocket. Looking out of the window, I did feel nostalgic. It had been such a long time and yet things stayed the same. There were a few new shops where old ones used to be, but the places I remembered the most fondly were still around. The mixed feelings I had were beginning to weigh down on me. 

Pulling up, I smiled. Hood was such an iconic, fun place. Looking back at Jungkook, I was touched to see him paying the cabby. Saying goodbye, the two of us got out of the car. The duffle had been in my lap. Jungkook stared up at the giant milk bottle in awe.

“Jin said he'll buy us lunch.”

Jungkook smirked, “What do you recommend?”

Walking toward the snack stand, I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m getting a lobster roll, but if you’re not into that, the soft serve is great.”

Walking around the side, I saw Jin sitting on one of the picnic benches eating. I was more surprised to see he was still enjoying his food than the purple hair. Jimin must have convinced him to do that. Whistling, I smirked at Jin and waved.

Jin was the oldest out of all of us, and spoke the least amount of English, but we were close. Standing, he offered me a hug which I happily accepted. Clearing my throat, I began speaking in Korean.

“You look nice,” I ruffled his hair. “This color looks really good on you.”

“Thanks,” He shoved my hand away. “Lobster roll? Thought you might have missed the New England taste.”

Nodded, I turned to Jungkook.

“What do you want?” I asked in English.

He shook his head at me, “Chocolate ice cream.”

When he spoke Korean, his voice was much deeper. Grinning at him, I looked back at Jin.

“One lobster roll and one chocolate soft serve.”

Going to order our food, Jin told us to sit and wait. Jungkook sat down next to me, his elbow on the table with his head resting on his fist. I was unsure of what to make of the look on his face. He seemed so… fond of me. No one had ever really looked at me like that before. I was used to anger, annoyance, or fear, but fondness was uncharted territory. The closest person I could think of had been Alexi, but even then he had always looked at me as a child. Jungkook did not.

“I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” He said, speaking the language.

“I know a lot of languages,” I replied. “I’m mostly fluent in English and Russian. My Korean is good, but I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination. I speak a decent amount of Spanish as well.”

“That’s so cool. Mine are Korean, Japanese, and English.”

Jin was back with our food. 

“Eat it in the car,” He said, “Everyone is waiting for us.”

“Is Park back in town?” Jungkook asked.

Jin shook his head, “Not yet. We haven’t heard from since yesterday.”

I knew we would talk more once we were out of the public eye. There was only so much we could say out here. Taking my roll, I followed Jin. Jungkook ate his ice cream happily, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was my turn to smile fondly. 

Pulling into a small driveway, I was confused. I did not recognize the house. Painted a calming sky blue with black shutters, a well-groomed lawn, and a small flower garden, it was unassuming and plain. Looking over at Jungkook, he seemed happy to be here. 

“Where are we?” I asked.

Jungkook smiled at me, “Yoongi’s.”

Taken aback, I froze. That had been the last person I had thought of. The last time I had seen everyone, Yoongi and Hoseok were living in a shitty condo in South End. While I was confused, and even unsettled, by the changes I was also pleased. It felt good to see Yoongi living more civilly. I wondered what had changed.

Hopping out of the Jeep, I met up with Jin and Jungkook at the hood before following behind them. The house was pristine and the small cul de sac was quiet. Eyes bulging out of my head, I fought back the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of a bird feeder on the edge of the lawn. 

Standing on the small porch, the three of us huddled close together. Jungkook gently moved my body in front of his, successfully shielding my body from the street. Leaning back slightly, I brushed my back against his chest quickly before straightening my back. I was beginning to lean into my growing attraction, but knew better than to take it any further than small touches. The airport had been for survival- nothing more. 

Jin knocked, the rhythm the only familiar thing about this place, before the door swung open. On the other side, a woman peered out at us. Her hair was short, wildly frizzy with unkempt curls, and bright red. Her eyes were brown and skin alabaster. The green dress she wore looked nice on her full figure. She smiled brightly at Jin, saying hello with joy. Her voice had hints of an accent but it was too faint for me to pick up.

“It’s nice to see you Johanna,” Jin greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek before gesturing towards me. “Johanna, Mouse. Mouse, Johanna.”

The red head gave me a polite smile before offering her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mouse.”

“Y/N,” I corrected, glaring at Jin. “Y/N is fine outside of business.”

“This is business though, isn’t it?” Johanna tilted her head at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. I decided right away that I liked her. “Come in. Hello Kookie.”

“Hey Jo,” The man replied.

Stepping inside, I looked around. The inside was just as perfect as the outside. Brightly colored walls with pops of color scattered around, mostly in the art hanging on the walls, with plants everywhere. It smelled like apple cinnamon and Pinesol. The hardwood floors were loud as we walked along them. The size of the living room was bigger than my entire apartment. Catching sight of a collage of photos, I looked over them the best I could as I walked.

All of them were nice photos, family photos, but one caught my eye. Yoongi was smiling, a rare sight, and his eyes were shining brightly. He was on the beach, arms wrapped around Johanna tenderly, while she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. She wore a white dress that hit her just at the ankle, a long, thin veil clipped onto the back of her head. The Saints were there along with a few people I did not recognize. Belatedly, I realized that I was looking at a wedding picture. A wedding I had missed. A wedding I had never been invited to. A wedding I had never even knew. Eyes glued to the photo, I cause a glimpse of Jungkook in a far-off corner, almost completely cut out, but he had been there. 

I knew my hurt feelings were unjustified. I had been the one who told them to leave me out of their affairs. I had said emergencies only. Still, I found myself growing increasingly alienated. I truly had no place here anymore. The only purpose I had ever served was monetary gain. The friendships I had built along the way were as fickle as the ones I had in New York. 

Arguing with myself, I struggled to stay present. As we walked deeper into the house, the need to run presented itself all over again. Everything I had known was gone. Everyone was different. Everything was different. Sparing a glance over at Jungkook, a seed of resentment began to grow in my chest. 

No one had ever referred to me as affectionately as they had Jungkook. No one had ever seemed endeared by my failures. Hell, none of these guys even acknowledged my feelings half the time. Staring at the back of Johanna’s head, I found that I didn't really like her that much anymore. She was loved. I was tolerated.

Still, I told myself that they had come for me. They had wanted to keep me safe. And yet, the insecurities that had always lived in my head reared their ugly head and reminded me that it was for their own good. I was useful. As long as I would be of use to them, then I would be protected. It would never be the same reasons they would fight for Johanna. They would fight for her because they wanted to keep her safe.

I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I did not want comfort from Jungkook. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go back to San Diego. Even if they were surface level, those friendships were still more loving than whatever the fuck I had here. I hated Boston. I hated New York. I hated the entire East Coast. 

“Y/N?” Johanna called out, looking back at me with concern. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, I replied. 

“I’m fine. Just lost in my head.”

I hated the edge my voice had taken on. I hated just how much I had to control myself around these people. I wanted to scream, shout, cry; whatever. I just wanted to feel myself lose control for a little while. The woman did not believe me but offered me a smile regardless. 

“I asked if you would like a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” I replied.

Jin seemed suspicious of me but said nothing at all. He had always known I liked my space. Still, I could tell he was worried. I knew my thoughts were out of line, I knew that I was over thinking and attempting to overcompensate, but it was impossible to stop it from happening. The downward spiral was difficult to manage. 

Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around my shoulder. Jumping, I whipped my head around to see Jungkook smiling at me. It was a goofy smile, one that he pulled when he was feeling playful, before he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What happens when you get water on a table?” He asked.

Taken aback, I opened and closed my mouth several times.

“What?”

“It becomes a pool table.”

Mouth agape, I blinked in disbelief before shoving him away. I let out a small laugh and shook my head at him. Where in the world had that come from?

Seokjin was laughing, hands clapping, and praising the younger man for the joke. Jin was a big fan of dad jokes and enjoyed making them up whenever he could. Typically, you would have to know enough Korean for them to make sense, but they never failed to get a few chuckles out of me. The ridiculousness of the jokes coupled with the corny delivery was always funny. Johanna placed a glass in front of me smiling fondly at Jungkook.

“He’s a mess,” She said, looking at me in faux exasperation. “I don’t know how you survived the trip here. He talks too much.”

Shaking my head, I took a large sip of the water.

“It’s better than the awkward silence Yoongi brings along.”

She laughed, knocking her head back.

“Touche,” She giggled. “He is a bit intense sometimes.”

“You’ve been in Boston for an hour and you’re already turning my wife against me.”

The voice had come from behind me. Spinning around dumbly, I was face-to-face with Yoongi. The scar on his face was just as prominent as it had always been, taking up his entire left cheek into forehead, but his eyes seemed lighter than I remembered. He was skinnier than the last time I saw him, too. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a pair of jeans. He seemed completely at ease. 

“Hey kid,” He greeted Jungkook with a grin. “Heard Mouse got you good.”

Jungkook flushed, ducking his head while rubbing his neck.

“Oh?” Jin chimed, his voice mocking. “The great Sacarii taken down by a little mouse?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily.

“He didn’t even try anything,” I admitted. “I was the aggressive one.”

“He was just an idiot,” Jin teased.

Yoongi tsked, “Park was the bigger idiot of the two. He’s going to give me an aneurysm.”

“You’re too hard on him,” Johanna gently scolded. “You know Jimin has a roundabout way of being right.”

 Jungkook laughed, “A broken clock’s right twice a day.”

A silence fell over our group. It felt unnatural to be standing in a nice kitchen talking over mundane topics with everyone. It was a long ways away from the roach infested alleyways and closed off apartment complexes. I lived with Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung when I was in Boston. Our small one bedroom was always cluttered, overcrowded, and was the main spot for our meetups. The conference room had been stuffed between two twin-sized mattresses with a large, round table in the middle of it all. I slept on the pull-out sofa in the front. 

“I guess we should talk,” Yoongi said, looking me up and down. 

“I guess so,” I replied.

Walking over to him, I realized that no one else was following. Looking back at the other three, they simply looked back. Sighing, I let it go. Being alone with Yoongi was not an unwelcome thing, but it had always made me feel like I was in trouble. Laughing at myself, I followed the man out of the kitchen and into the dining room. This time I was the one who was in trouble. 

Walking out of the dining room, we were now in a small reading room with a staircase. A green, stand-up piano was tucked away between tall bookshelves and more plants. Following Yoongi upstairs, I refrained from looking too closely at things. The house was much bigger than it looked. Walking past a few doors, we stopped before Yoongi opened one. 

Gesturing me to follow, I smiled at the sight of the old table. It was far too large, held six chairs, and was cheaply made. Someone had refurbished it and I wondered if it had been Johanna. She seemed to like everything to be nice and neat. It was an aesthetically pleasing layout, but this room was all Yoongi. The dark colored walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the otherwise white house. Taking a seat at the table, I pulled out the chair directly across from him.

There was a line up of photos scattered on the desk along with a few letters. I recognized two of the women but the others were unfamiliar to me. Looking around, I scowled when I saw a picture of Ivan. I would be lying if I said he was physically unattractive. Ivan had always had this air around him and coupled with his angular features and blue eyes it was no wonder why women chased him. I knew him, however, and the slope of his cheekbones and the perfectly groomed dirty-blonde hair did nothing but repulse me. He looked everything like his brother. He looked nothing like his brother.

Picking the photo up, I looked closely. It was candid. Someone had been hiding when they took it since the man seemed to be unaware of the camera. He was smoking a cigarette and behind him was a beach. Trying to figure out where he could be was hard, but it was nowhere near New York. It was too sunny, the waves too high, and I could see a surfer in the background. 

“Johanna took that,” Yoongi suddenly said. “We were in California. It’s where we got married.”

Mind racing, I kept looking at the picture. Ivan had been close to me. Very close, in fact. Trying to figure out how I could have been traced, I thought of Kimberly and winced. It would take no time at all to figure out if it really was me. He could just send some random into the salon after seeing a post. I looked different but I was still me. He could have scouted out the place for months without me being any wiser. Closing my eyes, I dropped the photo.

“He’s known where you are for a while,” He continued. “He had asked Jungkook to take care of you a few weeks ago, but the kid refused. He knew your face. Ivan’s been trying to figure out the best plan of getting to you without pissing us off.”

“So he thought forcing me back to New York was the best option?” I spat.

Yoongi nodded, “In his mind, you’d be under his claim again so we’d have no authority. Either he’s crazy or stupid.”

“Both,” I replied. “Always both.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Eyes searching the pictures for more signs, I grew angry. 

“Why are you only just now telling me?” I demanded, picking apart each detail of the photographs. “I should have known from the very beginning.”

“I thought so, too,” Yoongi defended. “It was Jimin telling us to cool it. He thought he could get it under control since he’s known Ivan for so long. It didn’t work out and Jimin was kicked out of the family.”

“What?” I shouted.

Ivan was losing his damn mind. Jimin was the closest thing to Alexi those boy had after Ivan took over. They loved him, I loved him, and to watch him get kicked out over me would have been a massive blow to Ivan’s credibility. Loyalty was gone from New York it seemed, and it would only be a matter of time before Ivan came to the same conclusion. They don’t make them like Jimin anymore. He was only trying to keep the peace. Thinking of my friend, I willed back my tears. He had wanted me to stay in California. He didn’t want me to come back.

“They’re not doing well,” Yoongi admitted. “Georgie Boy and I talked and he’s with us regardless. The Italians haven’t been appreciating Ivan’s ways either. Hoseok spoke with the Gambinos and they said they’ll light up the Russians if they get into their territory again.”

“Again?”

Yoongi smiled without humor.

“Ivan’s boys were selling in the Gambino’s turf. Didn’t end well for them. They aren’t going to tolerate that shit again, and the other families are on the lookout as well. Have to say, the boy has lost his fucking mind.”

Going over the information, I felt more confident than I had before. Ivan was hoping to get me back into his arms first. Then he’d kill me. Or keep me. It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, he had a rude awakening if he thought my boys were going to let it happen without consequences. Thinking back to my thoughts when I first came inside, I reminded myself that we were connected. I meant more to them than property. They weren’t Ivan. 

They weren’t Alexei either.

Shoving that thought down, I refocused on the photo of Ivan. He looked worse than I had last seen him. His age was beginning to show, and I sneered at the sight of the family tattoo. I had been claimed by many groups in my life. The tiger for my family, the slope-edged star on my collar bone for Alexei, the clerk on my ribs for my skill with a blade, and St. Anthony for The Saints. Ivan’s name had been cut into my skin by the man himself after I killed a rival without permission. The scars were faded now, but I never liked to show my stomach anymore. You could still see the carving and I would always know they were there. 

 Eyes zeroing in on Ivan’s calf, I saw red as I caught sight of the dagger entwined by a snake. It was in the same spot as mine. They all represented something. 

The star was commonplace for all Russians while my clerk was far more specialized. I got it after I helped Alexei take care of a snitch. I hated thinking about that night, but it earned me my stripes. I got my dagger a few months later. The dagger was rare, only given out to a leader of a “suit” of thieves. Alexi had promoted me, and I controlled my own section of New York alongside him. Ivan did not deserve that tattoo even if he was the boss.

“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.

I nodded.

“Why would he want you back so badly? He hates you.”

I smiled ruefully, looking up from the picture. 

“I’m Alexei’s girl and he finds great pleasure in keeping me around just to spite him. Even if he’s dead, it’ll never be enough. Breaking me down was always the goal.”

“Were you and Alexei…”

Yoongi did not need to finish the sentence. It was a fair question and one that everyone asked at some point. The Saints never liked picking into my past too much. They knew it had been rough, they knew what Ivan and I’s relationship was like, so they put it to rest. Yoongi had seen my stomach once, said he was going to kill him one day, and never brought it up again. Latching onto the memory, I further reinforced that they cared for me. This was not a dangerous place. These are my friends.

“No, Alexei would never. I was only 13 when we met. He was 19. We were like siblings more than anything. More than he and Ivan ever were.”

“Ivan was jealous?” I nodded. “Typical.”

“He’s the one who killed him, you know,” I leaned back in the chair. “I was there that night. That’s why Ivan hates me. I know too much.”

Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. It was a completely different world than he was used to. The Irish took care of their own. While it may have involved violence and punishments being handed out from time to time, there had always been unwavering loyalty to one another. For Hoseok it was the same. Snitches were snitches but you always had people you knew were on your corner. When Ivan saw an in he took it, even if it meant killing his older brother, and everyone suffered for it. I had not said anything out of the code of ethics we built, but that never stopped word from spreading. Everyone knew Ivan killed Alexei but no one could prove it.

Yoongi sucked his teeth, “They know you came home. Jimin let us know about that. He and Kai have been all over this shit.”

I hummed, “They had a couple guys at the airport. Jungkook and I got past them easily, though.”

Yoongi looked at me strangely now. It was in between concern and pride, but I figured it was the closest thing to friendly I would get from him. It was not his fault his face looked the way it did. Wanting to lighten the mood, I decided to ask him about his wife.

“So, who’s Johanna?”

Yoongi actually cracked a smile.

“She’s a nuclear engineer. Works at BU and moved to America seven years ago.”

“How’d that even happen?”

Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t even know. We met at a restaurant Georgie took me to. She was there with some friends. We bumped into one another and she gave me her number. I didn’t call but we ran into each other again at a bar. Stuck like glue ever since.”

Gently smiling I replied, “Sounds nice. I’m glad you found someone.”

Yoongi looked down bashfully. He was like an entirely new person now. Yoongi had never been one to show emotions outside of anger and annoyance. Even with us he had been a hardass. It was strange but nice at the same time. I liked it more than the robot I was used to.

“She’s a good person,” He whispered, suddenly serious. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have left her alone. She deserves better than a life of crime and being entangled in my bullshit.”

I understood where he was coming from.

“You could always leave. Runaway to Iceland and never look back.”

Yoongi grinned, “I thought about it but I don’t have any skills outside of this. What would I do? Unlike you, some of us have never thought past our horizons. Besides, I have other people to think about.”

I also understood that as well. I had been afraid of change for a long time, and I had known I wanted it for a while. I was unsure how long they had known one another, or had been together, but Yoongi had always said he’d die in Boston. I doubted he thought that way now. 

“It’s okay to be selfish,” I mumbled. “Things haven’t been easy and there were times when I missed the craziness, but I can say it’s an experience everyone should have. I love both of my lives, but I’d be lying if I said I’d choose this over California.”

Yoongi nodded in thought. We would drop this conversation and likely never pick it back up again, so I knew I should say my peace now. Whatever he decided to do would ultimately be on his shoulders, but I thought it would be okay to push him to follow his heart’s desires. I was a dreamer and I hoped the others would find a dream to hold onto as well.

Walking downstairs, I was tired. The traveling had finally caught up to me and I wanted to get some rest while I could. Walking into the kitchen, the three of them were still talking. Johanna had started to cook something. It smelled nice but my stomach churned at the thought of food. Making my presence known, I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head.

“Sleepy?” Jungkook asked, completely at ease. 

He looked right at home here. Briefly I wondered if he stayed here often enough for that to be the case. Yoongi hated other people in his space, but he had changed since I last saw him. Jungkook, however, did not seem like someone who would like living with other people. He was mostly quiet, sweet, but standoffish at times. Jin grinned at me.

“Sorry to say I’m full,” The older man took a sip from a glass. I could not tell what it was and did not care to know. I rubbed my eyes dramatically and yawned again. “Jimin and I are rooming together. I doubt you want to take the sofa. Let’s just say I’ve been taking advantage of his absence.”

“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” I replied with another yawn. Shaking my head, I groaned. “God, I hate it when that happens.”

“Jungkook can keep you,” Johanna offered. “I’d let you stay here but my niece is spending the weekend. I don’t want to put her in a bad position.”

I knew what she meant. I would not want to put a child in the middle of this bullshit either. Looking over at Jungkook, I raised my eyebrow in silent questioning. He nodded back at me with a grin. I smiled back at him.

“We should go while we have daylight,” Jungkook said, a pair of keys in his hands.

I had no idea where they had come from.

“I can wait,” I protested. “You should eat first.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. You haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“Y/N!” Jin scolded.

I non committedly waved him off. Scrunching my face up at Jin, I mumbled something close to ‘leave me alone,’ but I was doubtful it came out properly. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I leaned into Jungkook’s side as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me away from the kitchen, I knew I heard Jin make a comment about how close we were.

“You’re just jealous she likes me more than you,” Jungkook snapped back.

“Does not,” Jin replied, childishly whining.

Johanna laughed and I could hear Yoongi coming down the stairs. Jungkook lead me back into the reading room and turned left. Going down two steps we were in front of a door.

“Be safe!” Johanna called out.

“Always, noona,” Jungkook replied.

Leading me to the room, I realized we were in a garage. I was again surprised. There were two cars, both of them very nice and sleek, surrounded by expensive tools and equipment. Back in the day, I would have swiped everything in this room and stole one of the cars. Now, I was being led toward the black Marcedes on the farthest side of the room. 

“This one’s mine,” Jungkook said, attempting to fill the space.

“First one we haven’t stolen,” I joked.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I melted into the seat before Jungkook was in the vehicle. Opening the glovebox, I moved my legs out of the way as the man dug around the compartment. Finally he pulled a smartphone out and quickly turned it on. A few minutes later, the garage door was opening and we were pulling out of the large driveway. We passed Jin’s Jeep on the way out and Jungkook could not help but make a snide comment about the ugly car. I felt comfortable enough to try and fall asleep.

“You know,” Jungkook announced, making my eyes snap open. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever worked with.”

I chuckled, my drowsiness making it difficult to focus. 

“Thanks. You’re not that bad.”

“I’ve been useless for the entire trip,” Jungkook argued. “You stole the cars, got me clothes, made sure we were able to get flights without getting into some shit for it, and you always tried to make me feel more comfortable.”

Snorting, I looked over at the man.

“I shot you.”

Jungkook burst out laughing.

“I broke into your house.”

“Eye for an eye,” I offered, laughing.

Jungkook spared me a look in order to flash one of his blinding smiles. I noticed now that his front teeth were slightly bigger than they should be. 

“Really,” Jungkook was serious again. “I feel bad for being dead weight. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’m not really known for stealing cars or running off into the night, but I know how to kill someone.”

Looking at me again, Jungkook’s boyish smile and light eyes were on. In their place were hard lines, a slightly down-turned pout, and a coldness that surrounded him I was unaccustomed to. While earnest, his expression felt wrong. Jungkook was sunshine and this felt like an eclipse.

“No one is going to touch you. I’ll cut their fucking hands off finger-by-finger if need be to get my point across.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked, confused.

We did not know one another. Hell, I shot this fucking guy. And yet here he was devoting his life to keeping me safe. It was crazy. Then again, this life was like that. Putting myself in Jungkook’s shoes, I thought about it the other way around. Would I kill for him?

“Because you’re my friend,” He answered without hesitation. “You’re my friend and I would like to get to know you better.”

Yes, I thought, I would kill for this kid.

Humming, I decided against saying anything else. I was far too tired for this conversation. Letting my body win, I closed my eyes and leaned against the car window. I fell asleep quickly, but I found no peace. Ivan’s face flashed through my mind, his eyes alight with anger, and my blood was all over his hands. My screams echoed in the background. He placed his knife against my skin again and drew a “V” right next to the “I.”

Eleven years ago

Standing beside Hoseok, I stared up at the apartment complex wearily. It was small, bricked, and disgusting. I could smell trash and smoke everywhere and people were yelling. I did not like it here. Not at all.

Looking over at the older boy, I made sure to show him my discontent. I could admit that South End was nicer than my old place in Brooklyn, but only for the quieter atmosphere. Everything else was just as nasty. Hoseok shoved me forward and scolded me for acting like a “freak.”

“People are going to know you’re new,” Hoseok complained. “Then  I’m going to have to break their fucking head open for stepping out of line. Then Yoongi is going to dislike you. So, just fucking walk and keep your head down.”

Anger flaring, I stopped. Hoseok bumped into my back. Groaning loudly, he went to yell at me again. Scowling, I elbowed him in the stomach harshly. When he groaned and grabbed his stomach, I turned around and punched him in the face. While he barely moved, eating the hit easily, it seemed to get the message across.

“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch,” I seethed. “You’re not my dad.”

Waiting for Hoseok to hit me back, I stood there with my fists balled up. He looked at me intensely, his hands still clutching his stomach. His eyes went from my face to the small patch of exposed skin on my stomach. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, I pulled down the too-short shirt and yelled at him again to hit me.

Instead of violence, Hoseok simply took up straight. Breathing through his nostrils, he seemed to be calming himself down. I could see the start of a blackeye forming where I had hit him. My regret began eating away at me instantly, but I refused to back down. He deserved that hit. He needed to know I was not going to be his little plaything. 

Hoseok just continued to walk, telling me to follow, and I could tell he was trying to be nicer this time around. Confused and more uneasy than before, I kept my hands ready for a fight. I was not sure when this nice-guy act would stop.

Being shaken awake, I realized we were at Jungkook’s. Glancing at the time, I was shocked we had driven almost two hours. We were parked in a small lot with a large brick building to the right. Jungkook turned the car off and got out. Quickly following him, I wondered where we were.

It was a nice place. They looked like townhomes and I could smell someone barbecuing. Jungkook looked back at me, a few paces ahead, and continued to walk around to the front. Every house had large bushes in the front yards. Hydrangeas grew vibrantly along the walkway with spaces to make way for the entryway to homes. Jungkook turned and I followed.

The front was identical to the others. The only difference I could see was Jungkook’s ‘no shoes’ sign right out front. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to wake up and get the crust off of my skin.

“It’s small,” Jungkook suddenly said, “But it’s nice.”

“Where are we?” I asked, stepping into the house and kicking off my shoes.

“Chatham,” He replied, shrugging his jacket off. “It’s out of the way but I like the beach.”

The first thing I noticed was the large, beige sectional in the living room. On the wall was a large television above a faux fireplace. The entire house smelled like wood polish and oranges. I liked the carpeted floors and was pleasantly surprised by how clean everything was. There were no photos or personalized art hanging on the walls, but I guessed Jungkook never really liked those sorts of things. He was personable but in the moment. Jimin was a photo monster.

Thinking of my friend, I hoped he was alright. It was unlike him to go full radio silent. At the very least he would have called and checked in. Perhaps he had and no one bothered to tell me. Catching a glimpse of myself in the large, gold framed mirror hanging above the dining table, I flinched. 

I looked just as bad as I had begun to feel. I was tired, my eyes puffy, and I was embarrassed by the drool dried at the corner of my lip. My shoulder was stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping in the car and my clothes looked a mess. Jungkook had my duffle bag on his shoulder and I belatedly realized I have never even thought to grab it. I had not even brought it inside.

“Thank you,” I said.

Jungkook smiled at me. 

“It’s no problem. The room’s not being used anyway.”

“No,” I shook my head and walked up to him. Carefully taking the bag, I slug it over my shoulder with a knowing look. “Thanks for grabbing my shit. And for the room. I appreciate it.”

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck and turned red. He was not good with compliments no matter how much he seemed to enjoy them.

“Friends, right?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

Walking past him, I distracted myself from my racing heart by figuring out where his washing machine was.

After taking a shower, I tip-toed my way back to the room Jungkook had given me. I had been on edge since I got here. He was kind, caring, and attentive. I had never really seen someone show all three at the same time, and never toward me. My friends and I were subtle types, so to have someone so open and honest with their feelings was a hard pill to swallow. In California it was safe, in California it was expected, in California it was sacred; in Boston it was nerve wracking.

I could never be sure of how genuine Jungkook really was. When I was in his presence, it was easy to say that he was just that simple. Once I got alone it took all of me not to sneak out of a window and run. Hoseok had always said I needed to work on trusting people, so I would try.

I knew my behavior was only heightened by my attraction to him. Attractive people were the worst. Liking Jungkook would not do any favors for either one of us. I would get swallowed up by the life I so desperately wanted to leave, and Jungkook would be stuck in an awkward situation with the rest of the crew if it came to the light. No one would win and the outcome would be the same if I said anything or not. I was leaving Boston as soon as the situation was handled.

Luck was not on my side. As I turned the corner to reach the door of my bedroom, Jungkook was coming up the stairs. Carrying two cups, he flashed me a small smile and walked the rest of the way up. I froze in my spot. Caught red handed, I tried to play off my unsuccessful sneaking and took the cup with a smile. Jungkook did not seem to buy it but looked more amused than anything.

“What’s this?” I asked, smelling it.

“Cocoa,” He replied. “It’s not winter but still chilly.”

I nodded and took a generous sip. It was warm and silky. Humming in satisfaction, I took another sip and licked my top lip. Cocoa was one of my favorite things when I was a child. It was one of the few fond memories I had. Jungkook looked happy.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. “To get your mind off things?”

It was funny that he thought Ivan was what had been plaguing my mind. I may not be a very violent person now, but there was a time I was ruthless. The Russians did not scare me as much as they once had either. My initial response had been mostly shock, anger, and most of all, frustration. I had not been scared in a very long time. I doubted I ever would be.

“Sure,” I said, keeping my thoughts out of the conversation. What Jungkook did not know will not hurt him. He was only trying to help. “I’m not picky.”

Going down the stairs, I felt the same nervous butterflies growing in my stomach again. We were going to be closer than I would like to be. I was afraid of what that might do to the both of us. I did not know where Jungkook’s head was, but I was not foolish enough to believe that I was immune to any advances. The ball would stay in his court. I had enough self control to let that be a rule.

Sitting on the couch, I curled up on the end and waited. Netflix was already pulled up and waiting. Jungkook sat two cushions away. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, he began scrolling as we talked about possible movies to watch. We ended up on a random Jason Statham film. I watched mindlessly since every one of his movies were practically the same.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked me fifteen minutes in, clearly bored and disinterested in the action sequence. I could not blame him. There was no way anyone could use a gun like that in real life, and I was becoming annoyed by the plot armor. “I have ramen.”

I nodded, “That’s fine.”

Moving to stand up, Jungkook waved me off and went to the kitchen himself. Not arguing, I got more comfortable and zoned out once more. It was hard not to feel the pull towards him. All I kept thinking about was the way his lips felt at the airport. Refocusing on the movie, I rolled my eyes at the bomb scene. There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away from something that big.

Of course, Jason Statham had done just that. 

Jungkook came back a few minutes later, two large cups of ramen in hand, and sat down at the sofa. We ate in silence, neither one of us interrupting the bad movie again. When I went up to bed I could only think about how his hands would feel on me.

Taglist: @ippid @jkslaugh97 @destructive-memories @ash07128 @heartjiminie @adventures-in-bookland @canyon-lwt​ 

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts smut #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fics #park jimin #jung hoseok #min yoongi #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #bts gang au #bts assassin au

[lilly-chou-chou]

Lolita fashion: A guide for beginners and love letter to seasoned Lolitas (Fashion guide part ll)

Hello everyone!! Few days ago I had made a guide for people interested and doing gyaru fashion (interested people please visit my account to read about it <3) moving on I was intrigued and ready to take on the world of Lolita fashion as well, I hope this guides helps newer people and makes other old followers of this amazing fashion culture realize that it is all about fun and feeling pretty. Some may agree with this and some may not either way I am posting this <3

(Kindly please stop sending d#ath threads regarding this post. Kindly also refrain from sending comments saying I deserve those threaths please 🙏🏼)

My guides start from here on. So as a lot of people know, this culture of fashion was started by taking inspirations from Rococco and Victorian era. Over the years this subculture of Japanese fashion has definitely evolved and this subculture has given birth to many sub styles like most famous being sweet Lolita, gothic Lolita and hime Lolita.

So now that you know the gist of this style let me educate you further that the reason Lolita fashion exists is purely just for fun. People especially women wanted to feel that elegance and olden time beauty and dressed up in Lolita just for fun!! So no. 1 rule of Lolita is to have fun. Enjoy what you wear and buy.

Yes, when you first begin it is necessary that you browse through the summary but make sure to ONLY browse through the history of Lolita fashion. Never pay too much attention towards rules of Lolita because again just like gyaru fashion it was and has always been foreigners who police others and are way too anal about rules when as a matter of fact the whole reason Lolita and gyaru existed was to have fun! Of course but only gyaru had a backstory of opposing with stereotypes of women in Japan.

I am here to tell you that I have lived in Japan during the hype of Lolita and gyaru (also being an avid follower of both fashion culture since the age of 4) and having talking with foreigners and locals I suggest you to only LIKE ONLY listen to locals because they truly know what's up. My guides are filled with my experience and what they have told me.

So let's talk about rules like lace and materials and shit. What I have been told and have been doing my life is that pick any lace design that you feel pretty in because in the end even back then Lolita fashion magazines and shows would only tell you what a typical Lolita would wear like poofy dress and small details like pretty wigs and such but people in streets be it Harajuku or Shibuya or etc etc didn't follow these rules themselves and they were covered in latest Lolita trends from head to toe.

The magazines and such only give you an idea of what you can do or typical image of a Lolita fashion follower. That doesn't mean you have to do exactly that. Things like "stop wearing that" "your lace is ugly" "wow you purchased dress from Amazon? Fuck you" "that dress quality sucks you are NOT a real Lolita" is all doing of foreigner Lolita fashion followers.

I am so sorry if you ever encountered any of these people but Lolita girlies in Japan will never harass you like this.

Plus buying stuff from Amazon is OKAY because even though these days there are many affordable Lolita dresses and accessories, it is okay to still look for options and I understand that some people don't have budget and just because you are tight on budget doesn't mean you should be left out. YOU ALSO DESERVE TO FEEL PRETTY! Amazon might not be authentic if that's what you can afford atm then go for it please, enjoy and have fun because you were to meet other Japanese Lolitas they will say things like "wow I didn't know these days Amazon sold such good quality Lolita dresses" never feel guilty for buying off brand.

What people don't tell you is that these days even brands break some of the rules from Lolita fashion and honestly if the household brands break them then you also shouldn't feel bad about messing up. I just want Lolita fashion culture to be welcoming and I don't want beginners to be afraid and I don't want old members to feel the need to be always classic authentic.

Even the queen and ambassador of foreign affairs kawaii aka president of Japan Lolita Association Misako Aiko who has been doing Lolita fashion for 25 years also mixes and matches from different fashion and breaks so called rules like poofy dress shape, owning few dresses with no laces, hair usually styled in a simple way, not always wearing a blouse or a head wear etc etc.

In conclusion if the president of Lolita fashion and household brands are breaking rules then you should also not feel guilty for few little things here and there. Aim of Lolita fashion is to feel pretty and have fun. You are the prettiest person alive, embrace it and have fun with this style. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Do what makes you happy and don't ever feel guilty about buying off brands because sometimes food, shelter and bills is important and that is understandable.

I love everyone of you. Hope my guides help you a lot <3

#lolita fashion #egl fashion #sweet lolita #gothic lolita #gyaru fashion #j fashion #gyaru gal #japanese fashion #kawaii #fashion #sailor lolita #angelic pretty #baby the stars shine bright #innocent world #atelier pierrot #metamorphose temps de fille #pretty #pink #hime gyaru #hime lolita #sanrio

[ask-the-royal-absol]

(It has been one year since I joined the pokeask community with my silly absol. One whole year. How did I get here? Like, damn. It’s just been such a lovely community and I’ve met some truly wonderful people.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get more of you on here. I wish I had the time to draw each and every one of you. This is why I needed the head shot so thank you to everyone who sent it over. Thank you to everyone in this community for being my inspirations, my joy and my friends. I cannot thank you enough. If I could make you all something more to say thank you, I would. (Also forgive me if the image quality is garbage. Tumblr does that sometimes. If you click on it, it'll be clearer.)

I suppose I’ll just go on and say I’ve always admired the community from afar. So many stories I was following. So many inspirational people. The events. The characters. They are all so wonderful. And I followed these blogs for years.

Getting hooked into everything about the ask blog community. At first, I was going to making an ask blog about a royal Goodra/Vespiquen fusion who goes to other places to make political connections for their hive. I drew up a couple of concepts but I didn’t go ahead with it.

I kept following the community, constantly being inspired and amazed by everyone inside of it. I’d wanted to join a community for a while. At first, I joined the Pokémon fusion community. It was fun. I met some great people. But, after a few years, it didn’t fill me with joy. I did fusions on multiple platforms, even making some fusions for the infinite fusions game (they’re still in there). I had a go with commissions. It just became a bit of a chore.

I tried making my own region. It only lasted a month. It left a gap which I didn’t know how to fill. I also did dnd with friends which mostly satisfied this but we didn’t do it consistently enough. I definitely miss doing it. I probably did fusions for 6 years. The blogs are still up. There was nothing I wanted to draw consistently.

Near the end of last year, I had a really tough time. My mental health took a really big dip and I was struggling. It was an incredibly dark time. I didn’t have much going on. Maybe we were doing dnd. I don’t remember though. I started drawing Pokémon because I wasn’t in the mood to draw dnd art.

I don’t know why but I started to draw an absol. I think it may have been inspired by my current dnd character. As I was drawing this absol, ideas started to form in my mind about who this absol was and the world they were from. Ideas kept flowing and flowing.

Once the absol was finished, I drew another character, and another and another. And I just kept drawing. Soon, I started drawing maps and a prophecy for this absol and their world. The name Destino came from the word Destiny. It brought me so much joy. I worked on it for a few days and put it to the side.

Then came around the 27th December 2022. I looked back on my planning for this world and thought perhaps I could turn it into an ask blog. At first, I was so nervous. I didn’t want to go through with it. My partner convinced me to make the blog. That’s when I began to draw the first post. And on December 29th 2022, I created the blog and made a reference post for Destino.

Soon, the first post was posted and I got asks. Exciting stuff! And it was so much fun deciding how Destino would respond. More asks kept coming and I eventually started sending asks to others. The most exciting part would have to be seeing people follow me who I was a huge fan of. Gonna be honest, I’m still so incredibly excited when talking to these people and when they like my stuff.

My love for this blog grew and I’ve spent a lot of my time working on it. I have loved each and every moment of it. It was fun having this smug, egotistical absol interacting with many characters who I am a huge fan of and entertaining to see their reactions. Destino was becoming a bit of a thing. Memes were made of Destino. Destino was insulting every legendary they could come across. For me, it was hilarious. And it seemed others were enjoying their antics too.

I am incredibly thankful each day with every interaction, every like, every follow, every reblog, etc. I’ve had. I’m grateful for this entire community. Every one of you has been so friendly and I love talking to you. This community has filled a void which I wasn’t sure would be filled. And I hope I can continue loving being in this community for a while. Destino is going to stick around for a while. I’ve got big plans for them and I hope to enjoy this journey with you all.

Thank you everyone. I hope I can continue to work with you all and have fun! Let’s get ready for another year of Destino.)

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #pokeask #ask #askblog community #pokeask community #mod goomy #long post #fanart Friday

[eustasskidagenda]

Hello! (*￣∇￣)ノ im in the mood for smth fluffy n sweet, could i ask for sanji and a fem reader who has a slight injury and doing things she's not supposed to cause she's a stubborn ass? I sprained my wrist the other day and its making doing my usual handsy routines kinda hard (its my dominant wrist too... (;O;)) i need my man to help me do stuff

Thank you i love your stuff(⌒∇⌒)ノ"

Hi sweetie, tysm for liking my posts! Sure, I've got your back! Sanji is so perfect for that kind of writing. Hope it meets your expectations. Have a good recovery! :D

☆Sanji with a s/o who has a slight injury

CW : f!reader, fluff, pet name

WC : around 660

Sanji is always willing to help you with anything, because that's how he is. A queen is worthy of the best, right? But if you're injured, prepare yourself for more than just a royal treatment. Sanji's love language is all about acts of service, and he'd be more than happy to provide you with any kind of help. Even if you don't ask for it.

So first, when you wake up, the bed is tepid. You think Sanji is already busy working or cooking, but the second you stand up, he would run into your shared bedroom. He would hold a heavy tray filled with food and a cup of your favorite morning drink.

"Sweetheart, you have to rest. Come and have breakfast. "

Again, it's Sanji we're talking about. He would use this occasion to feed you alone, babbling about the breakfast he made. (With some premium quality food to help you heal faster.)

Obviously, he would make sure you take your pills if needed, or gently massage your injured wrist, because we all know Sanji is a god with his hands. So enjoy.  

"Just wait for me and don't move. I'll be back in a second" once you finish eating.

And with that, Sanji would disappear into the kitchen to clean the dishes and then to the bathroom to run you a hot, nice bath with some oil perfumes and en extra amount of foam and bubbles. 

"I've told you not to move, sweetheart." 

You're so stubborn, that's what he thinks. Why are you attempting to put your shoes on and button your shirt by yourself? "I prepared a nice bath for you, you don't need those clothes anyway"(Sanji, nice try) 

"You know Sanji, I can walk." Whether you can walk or not, he'll still carry you to the bathroom. That's what you get for being stubborn. And once the door is locked, obviously, Sanji would help you to take off your clothes because… you have to rest this poor wrist. He's truly an angel... (yes and no)

Sure, he'd shower you with praise because Sanji just can't get enough of how beautiful you are always. While you enjoy a hot bath, Sanji would bring you fresh drinks, or whatever else you need. You just have to ask. He would let you have some time to relax on your own while cleaning the bedroom and kitchen and making sure you have nothing to worry about. 

"Do you need some help washing your hair?" 

You can't say no, he's so sweet. 

Just imagine him taking off the jacket of his suit, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, and then sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Sanji would be so lovely to wash your hair and give you a tender head massage on this occasion. "You're tensed" he'd whisper close to your ear before massaging your wet skin, easing all the tenses in your shoulders and back.

"Feel better?" With a gentle kiss on your jugular. "You look so pretty when you're relaxed." You're always pretty for Sanji anyway. He just loves to remind you all the time how amazing and perfect you are because his woman deserves nothing but praises. 

Sanji would wrap you in a warm towel and gently dry your skin. He'd guide you to the bedroom, sitting you on the mattress before kneeling in front of you. He's genuinely pleased to assist you in buttoning up your shirt or tying your shoes. 

"Alright sweetheart, no work for you today." 

Until you're fully recovered, Sanji would be more than happy to help you grab some random stuff and write anything you need. You probably can't write with an injured wrist. 

Sanji would also be thrilled to read the story to you if you want to read but can't hold a book in the evening. He would be extremely kind and committed to giving you a top-notch reading experience.

Such a sweetheart.

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece requests #sanji headcanons #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x you #sanji x y/n

[elbiotipo]

Was thinking about the whole owl fiasco in New York (which is funny because we find wild animals around here every day but if it's it in New York it's international news)

And well, that owl was (apparently) freed by animal rights activists who wanted it to be free and stuff. They argue something on the grounds of "well MAYBE that owl died crashing into a building and spent the last weeks in a stressful enviroment eating rats full of poison but at least he died FREE". Which is of course, dumb.

And then some other people argue that it's wrong to free random animals from zoos and anthropomorphizing their freeddom, which is correct, but then they go all the way to the other side. I read someone posting that "owls in nature live 15 years, this one was going to live 60" and "animals in captivity don't want freedom since they are pampered" and while that's not untrue, animals in captivity do get a life that would be considered good and they get so used to it that many don't want or most often cannot be released... it's a poor argument. We really don't know if animals, among being pampered, don't desire more. One argued "owls love to sit in the same place and be fed" and are you sure? That does not sound like bird-like behavior to me.

And what's more, it's anthropomorphizing in reverse. The animal rights activists say "we cannot jail animals they want to be FREE" and these people argument back "no, no, they're living the good life, it's good that they are in captivity actually". Fine, what about of all the owls who live in the wild. Don't they deserve to live 60 years of pampering too? Current zoo animals shouldn't be freed, that's true. What about taking more, why not give them all a good life?

My response about this is that it's never about a single owl. We don't protect individual animals because of their own individual lives but because of what they mean for an ecosystem. When great pains are taken to protect charismatic megafauna such as pandas or whales, for example, it's because they're in danger of being lost forever. But also, because protecting them means protecting everything that supports them, the entire landscape (umbrella species). So the quality of life of a single owl in a single city is missing the point. We should instead asking, what's the quality of the ecosystems that support that species, and many others? The Eurasian Owl is a widely ranging species that has adapted to many enviroments, so it's not in danger of extinction anytime soon, but it's still good to ask: wouldn't it better to try and save the enviroments where it lives instead of a single owl in New York City? No animal is an isolated being, and both the animal right activists and their counterparts miss this. If we have animals in zoos, it must be for them to be safe enough so they can be reintroduced to their natural enviroments, which are the ones that truly need to be protected, as a whole. There is no point in arguing about a single bird when there's a whole forest of them.

#cosas mias #animals #falco the owl #<- I remembered his name just after writing all this #ecology

[neverinadream]

You're His Girlfriend, But You Belong To Me - Part Three

Summary: Emotions run high and hearts are broken in the final chapter of yours and Christian's affair.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader // Ty (OC) x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback

Warnings: angst, themes of infidelity, heartbreak, a break up, arguing, confessions of infidelity, confessions of love, possessiveness, references of ownership, cocky!christian, violence, suggestive themes....idk if i'm missing anything

Notes: and it's....almost finished!! there is an epilogue still to be posted. i loved this little miniseries a lot, even if the theme isn't everyone's cup of tea. big thanks to @thoseboysinblue who is always there to bounce ideas off, couldn't have done it without you 🫶🏻. the flow is a little dodgy towards the end and there are parts that could've been done so much better but i've gotten too much in my own head over this, so i'm just going to give it to you how it is. what do we want to see in the future?? more miniseries like this?? thank you to all those that read it and gave me feedback on the other parts. it truly means a lot! anyway...feedback is always appreciated!

"Hi. Hello."

Hushed voices are reduced to silence as you appear in front of the microphone, fixing the skirt of the sage-coloured dress that had been trying to kill you all day. The material was soft to the touch and it helped to ease the anxiety riddling your veins, and it didn't matter how many times Ty told you how beautiful you looked, the deadly contraption had to go. The bodice was too tight on your chest, crushing the air from your lungs, and the length of the skirt was too long on your legs, even when wearing your heels. Your mother called it karma for not being there in person when your older sister was making the preparations for her wedding like the rest of her bridesmaids were.

"Wow, there's a lot of you here today," you nervously laughed, pinching at your dress and rubbing the material between your thumb and finger as you looked out at the ocean of guests before you. They were friends and family, but you still didn't recognise nearly half of them. The ones you did recognise didn't look at you with blank expressions, and when you found Christian sitting with the rest of his family, a wave of comfort washed over you as he gave you a subtle smile over the rim of his champagne flute. "For those who don't know me, I am Carrie's little sister," you introduce yourself, "and much like the family dog, I like long walks on the beach, constant attention, and taking naps after I've eaten too much food." You try not to smile as your opening line leaves a few of the guests laughing. "Or, perhaps that's Carrie," you pull a face of confusion, "we've gone our whole lives being mixed up with each other, that even I'm beginning to mix us up."

You glance over at your sister, your hand gently holding onto the top of the microphone, as your other hand curls around the stand. "I'm not sure what Carrie knew what she was getting herself into when she asked me to give a speech today. I'm not a comedian like our older brother, so I can't make you all laugh until your sides hurt, and I'm no poet like our father, so please put your tissues and handkerchiefs back in your pockets, but what I can do is list all of Carrie's amazing qualities that will make her the greatest wife of all time." You release the microphone and reach into your bodice, pulling out a folded napkin you had hidden before your turn. "So," you clear your throat, unfolding the blank napkin, "Carrie is...she..." Guests laugh as you squint at the napkin, pulling it closer to your face. "Hmm," you fold the napkin back up and stuff it into your dress, "I guess I won't be doing that then."

"As kids, we hated each other, and I think that was because of our two very contrasting personalities. Carrie was a loud-mouthed, bitchy psychopath, and I was just perfect, but as we got older, Carrie was like a fucking rockstar to me. I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to dip my toes into every pond that she jumped into. I wanted to be able to craft the perfect lie to our parents, only for it to all fall apart at the very last second. Our parents told my sister that she could not go to any senior prom after parties and like the crafty genius Carrie was, she told our parents that she was stuck in traffic for three whole hours. And she would've got away with it if our next door neighbour hadn't found her upside down in his hedge."

You smile up at your sister as you turn to her again, who was already dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "Carrie became my metaphorical flight attendant, always there to warn me that life will come with turbulence, but that I should never panic because life will always have a way of working itself out. When I was given the opportunity to move out of the country, Carrie was the first person who told me to grasp it with both hands and never let it go. She'll be your biggest supporter..." Your voice cracks and she blows a kiss in your direction, which only makes it easier for the tears to escape. "...even when you're making questionable decisions, and I am entirely grateful to have you as my big sister."

"Now, Daveed," you address your brother-in-law, giggling as he hides his face behind a napkin, "when I first met you, I was confused." He laughs louder than the rest of the guests, a laugh so infectious it has you laughing along with him. "I was confused because I couldn't understand how someone could be so selfless and loving as you are, without there being some other ulterior motives. But meeting Carrie was the best decision you have ever made. Before you, Carrie was like that one troll who lived under a bridge in every fairytale you read as a kid. She had a heart as cold as ice when it came to love, and I honestly believed she would grow old with seventy cats. But your ever-giant loving heart has transformed her into the beautiful princess you see sitting before you today. But, you know what they say if you can't handle her at her worst, then you don't deserve to her at her best, and I don't think there is anyone more deserving of Carrie's love and terrible cooking than you, Daveed. It's been such an honour and joy to welcome you into our circus of freaks, and I'm happy that we didn't scare you off."

"So, I'll leave you with this: when I think about the greatest love stories of all time, I used to think of Paris and Helen of Troy, a love so great it started a war, but now I can only think of yours." You reach to retrieve your champagne, raising the glass into the air, signaling others to copy. "So, if you could kindly join me in raising a toast to the happy couple," your eyes flick over to Christian, another flood of warmth spilling through you as the subtle smile before now reached his eyes, before guiltily panning your eyes over to Ty as you say, "may we all have a love story as great as theirs."

———————

"Cute speech-"

"Don't tease me-"

"I'm not..." Christian breaks your bickering with a harsh sigh. "I wasn't teasing you. I was being nice." You raise your eyebrows and make a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "I can be nice," he rolls his eyes, backing you against the gazebo, the old stone cold and rough against your skin. He dips his lips against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses against your warm skin. "I can be really nice," he chuckles, biting down and sucking on your collarbone.

"Christian, don't!" You groan, but your warning was futile. He pulls back to inspect his art and you wince as he grazes his finger over the bruise. You push him away and cover the spot with your hand; there was no lie big enough to cover this one up. Not from Ty. And especially not from your family. You hadn't let Ty do more than kiss your cheek in the presence of them all weekend. "Why do you always have to do that?"

"Because I like to mark the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," you bite back, but the possessive tone in his voice floods your belly with heat.

"Yes, you are." Your fingers fist tightly into his ear as he presses his mouth against your neck and grazes his tongue against it. "Say it," he demands to hear the words that now made his heart stutter. His hands skimmed up your arms, over your shoulders, and cradled the sides of your neck, tipping your head back as he pulled away to look at you. There was an emotion in his eyes that you couldn't read, a strange mix of hunger and longing. "Tell me you're mine."

"No."

He frowns, chasing your lips as you turn your head. "Come on, say it."

"You say it," you counter, the words coming out more like a plea. Just once, you wanted to hear him say it, even if you knew he didn't mean it. You were too far deep into this mess that even a lie would make you happy. "Say you're mine," you bring his mouth closer to yours, "please, say it."

He hesitates and whispers, "I'm...not yours." Your heart cracks. Of course, he wasn't going to say it. He only wanted you for the thrill of sleeping with another's girlfriend, you knew he would never want you for your heart.

"We should go back inside," you cast your eyes off to the side. He whispers something about not being finished with you yet, but you find the strength to push him away. "Chris, if someone comes to look for me-"

He silences you with a scoff. "And by someone you mean Mr. Boring?"

"Leave him alone."

"He's pathetic, Y/N, when are you going to see that?" He snaps back at you, his face only inches from yours. You press your back further into the wall of the gazebo, trying to create some space between you. "That whole good guy act he performs for everybody?" He pulls a face of disgust. "He's got your parents wrapped around his little finger with that one."

"It's not an act!" You reply through gritted teeth. Though you didn't love Ty anymore, you still felt obligated to stick up for him. "He is a good guy, Christian, but you wouldn't know that because you have never taken the time to get to know him! Perhaps you should've, maybe then you would've seen what it looks like to have heart."

Your words make him take a step back. "I have a heart," he dismisses your claim.

You take a step forward and press your finger against the centre of his chest. "This?" He winces as you jab your finger harder against his chest. "This is empty! Barren! Incapable of feeling any emotion!"

He bats your hand away. "Before you start accusing me of anything, sweetheart, perhaps you should take a long hard look in the mirror," he counters, his voice laced with bitterness, "remember, I'm not the one fucking another guy behind my boyfriend's back." He watches your mouth open and close, swallowing your breath as your eyes widen. "What's the matter, baby?" He mocks. "Don't you like being reminded of the truth?"

Behind, standing only a few feet away, Ty looked on at the two of you, the colour draining from his cheeks until he was no whiter than the shirt he wore. When you hadn't returned from your room, Ty had gotten worried, but when there was no sign of you in your hotel room and someone had mentioned seeing you going outside, he wasn't prepared to see you and Christian together. He had just heard the end when you had clocked him approaching.

"Ty," you whisper his name, bottom lip trembling as the first cracks in your perfectly constructed lie begin to show.

He looks between you and Christian, his eyes landing on your collarbone as you step around the obstacle between you. For a moment there's a flicker of anger, but it sizzles away and morphs into pain. That hickey was an answer to a question he didn't even need to ask. A question he didn't want to ask.

"Ty, this isn't-"

"Please, don't," he held up his hand to stop you, "please don't be one of those people who try to say it isn't what I think it is. I heard him, Y/N, I heard what he said." You bite your lip and nod your head, deciding not to inflict any further damage. What use was there in lying to him anymore? "I guess I should've known something was off between us when we stopped having sex," Ty sniffles, fighting back tears, "something like that just doesn't stop without there being a reason."

Christian sniggered from behind you. "I can promise you she was well cared for." Ty glanced over at him, making it known that he had heard him but pulled his attention back to you. "Wow! Really?" He lets out a surprised laugh. "I just told you I'm fucking your girlfriend and you don't even react." He takes a step forward and firmly presses his body against yours. His hand sits on your hip, pinning you to the spot on which you stood. It was like he was saying I won to Ty without really ever really saying it. "You know, whilst you were tucked into bed last night, I was tucked into her-"

"That's enough!"

"No, no, no, no," Christian tuts, shaking his head, "Ty has to know the truth."

"I've heard enough."

He looks up at Ty. "You sure?" He gives him the biggest grin he can muster up. One that could've earned him a hard blow to the face if Ty had been anyone else. "Don't you want me to remind you of what it feels like to have her lips wrapped around your cock? Or describe the sound she makes when she cums?"

Ty ignores him and fishes something from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I thought you were my forever, but I guess we were on different pages," he steps forward and presses something small into the palm of your hand, "give this back to Nelly for me." You look down into your hand, your heart shattering when you recognise the dainty piece of silver to be your grandmother's ring. It was a thin band of silver with a small emerald gem passed down from mother to daughter. The perfect ring, you had once told Ty after he spotted it in a photograph of you and your grandmother. "I don't think I'll be needing it anymore, do you?"

The ring disappears into the palm of your hand as you fold your fingers into a tight fist. It symbolised everything you wanted out of life: true happiness and everlasting love. So as you held it against your chest, you foolishly believed that if you held it there for long enough, it might mend the fractured pieces of your heart. And as you looked up to say one last goodbye to the kindest man who woke up every day with nothing but love in his heart, you discovered he was already gone. You could just see his silhouette disappearing back into the ballroom.

Christian had just caught a glimpse of the silver band over your shoulder. Seeing the dainty piece of metal had left him with a sour taste in his mouth, and knowing it had been temporarily in Ty's possession set a new kind of anger coursing through his veins, making his skin hot as it boiled his blood. "Why did you tell him about Nelly's ring?" He asked, seeking the truth to a matter that shouldn't have taken precedence over the giant tears streaming down your cheeks. "What did he do to deserve to know about Nelly's ring?"

"He loved me," you choke on your sobs, "and maybe you don't recall it, but there was a time when I loved him."

"You never loved him," he dismisses another one of your claims.

"Do not think for a second that you claim to know the names that I hold dear to my heart!" You glance over your shoulder and see no sympathy in his golden eyes. You were broken, and yet here he stood, all intact. He didn't care. "I loved him," you repeat yourself, "and he loved me."

Christian leaned back against the gazebo, ignoring the strange pang of guilt in his chest. "Yeah," he casts his eyes down at his shirt, fixing one of the buttons, as he says, "but then you slept with me, and I opened your eyes to a new world of possibilities." Your face twists with a sour expression. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that," he chuckles dryly, "I just saved you from a boring marriage and your inevitable-" The rest of his words are knocked from his mouth as you drag your hand across his face, connecting your palm to his cheek with a loud slap.

"Y/N!?" Someone shouts your name, but you don't look back to see who.

Instead, you stumble away from Christian, the same hand you had slapped him with now covering your mouth. "Shit!" It's muffled by your hand, but your wide eyes connect with his even bigger eyes, and you are both stunned into silence. You couldn't believe it. "I-I..." You bring both hands over your mouth, shaking your head. "I'm so sorry," you repeat like a broken record as fresh tears break from your eyes, "I-I didn't mean to do that."

Christian rubs his hand against his cheek and moves his head away from Kelley, who had been the voice shouting at you only moments ago. She had stepped outside to catch a few minutes of air, becoming a witness to the fallout of the disaster that was unfolding around you.

Kelley looks between the two of you. On one side, she has her son, his cheek red with the imprint of your hand, and on the other, she has a shadow of your former self. She takes a deep breath and turns to you first, offering a sympathetic smile as she asks, "Y/N, sweetie, what's going on?"

Growing up, Kelley had been like a second mother to you. You had lost count of the times she had patched up your knees after you had scraped them from falling over. Christian was forever on the move, and you just wanted to keep up with him. It didn't matter how fast he got as the two of you got older, you were there running behind him, and Kelley was behind you with a band-aid in her hand. So, any other time you might have opened up to her, but you couldn't force yourself to tell her.

You look past her and at Christian. "I'm sorry," you mouth your apology.

"Just..." He lets out a sigh, watching you slip away, the end of the dress bunched in your hands so you wouldn't trip over it as you made your sudden escape. "Just let her go, Mom," Christian mumbles, the stinging in his cheek subsiding, making it easier for him to move his jaw. He knew deep down he deserved that slap. If his goading hadn't done enough to provoke a reaction from Ty, he should've guessed that it might've come from you instead. He casts his eyes down at the ground as he straightens up. "I don't want to talk about it-"

"You don't get a choice," Kelley stops him. There was a sternness to her voice that made him shiver. It was the kind she saved only for when she was disappointed in him. "Well?" He finally looks up but quickly looks away again when he isn't met with the usual warmth of her eyes. "Start talking, Christian, before I go and ask the poor girl myself."

"She and Ty broke up," he raises his shoulder on one side.

She raised her eyebrows, sensing there was more he wasn't telling her. "She slapped you because Ty and her broke up?"

"No, Mom, she slapped me because I asked her to," he replies, stuffing one hand into his pocket. At any other time, he would've been on the receiving end of a look of disapproval for using sarcasm against her, but Kelley just sighed. "Ty," he thinks carefully about his words, wanting to tell her the truth without admitting his own sins, "Ty found out she was sleeping with someone behind his back."

Kelley blinked twice. You were having an affair? The very same girl who was too afraid to get in trouble at school? The girl who did everything to keep her grades above a B? The one everyone said had a heart of gold? She didn't believe it. There was no way you could've done something as heartless as this. "An affair?" She shakes her head. "I don't believe you. Not Y/N."

He scrunches his face. "Why, because she's so perfect?" He rolls his eyes at the ground. "Not everyone is as perfect as you might think, Mom, not even me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Really?" He looks in her direction, greeted by a look of mixed emotions on her face. He didn't want to insult her intelligence, but it only took the smallest amount of common sense to figure out what possible role he had to play in all of this. "Doesn't a part of you wonder why I was out here? How I came to be the only other person to see it happen?"

As the pieces of the puzzle slowly clicked together, she could only show her disappointment in her eyes and through the way she spoke. "Christian..."

"What, Mom? What?" He takes a step back, removing himself from her path. His heart was racing rapidly in his chest, the blood pumping hard and thick in his ears. The air around him felt thicker like it was trying to suffocate him. "What do you want me to say?" He loosened his tie, pulling on the knot until he felt like he could breathe again. What was happening to me? He thought to himself, wiping his sweaty palm down his thigh. "That I regret it because I don't."

"How can you say that?" She asks, bewildered by his reaction. "How do you not regret what you've done? You've destroyed a relationship, Christian!"

"It wasn't just me, Mom; she destroyed it too!" He pulls his tie off, wrapping the slim black piece of material around his fingers. "I...She..." The tips of his fingers slowly change colour as he tightens his tie. "Maybe it would be different if she loved the guy, but she didn't. She's just another liar." He sighs, glancing up at the roof of the gazebo. "We both are."

"Do you love her?"

Yes.

"Love her?" He unravels the tie before it cuts the circulation to his fingers and switches to wrapping it around the other. He scoffs to hide the quiver in his voice. "Why would I love her?"

"Because I can't think of a good reason for why you could do something so stupid, Christian," she scolds him, lifting her hand into the air like she was signalling an end to their conversation. She couldn't bare to hear him talk this way anymore. This wasn't the boy she had raised. "If any part of you loves that girl-"

"I don't."

I do.

She holds his head firmly in her hands, keeping his eyes on hers. In his eyes, she sees the truth. She sees the fear. She sees it all. "Just shut up and listen," he gulps down a large breath of air, subtly nodding his head, "if any part of you loves that girl, then you need to fix this."

"I can't fix it," he chews his bottom lip, "she won't believe me."

"You won't know unless you try," she offers a watery smile, "if you don't fix this, then you'll lose her for good, and that's when you'll finally regret it." She wipes away a tear he didn't even know was there. "Go," she encourages him, "before it's too late."

———————

All traces of Ty had been removed from your room when you returned. A note saying, "I'm sorry I wasn't enough," was all that was left for you to find. It brought a fresh wave of tears crashing down your cheeks, and through watery eyes, you tore yourself out of your dress and packed your bag. You could apologise to your sister later, maybe even tell her the truth and risk her judging you for your heartless mistakes, but right now, you had to leave.

Pulling on the zip, you close your bag and set it down at the foot of your bed. You ignored the first knock as you checked the contents of your second bag, checking to make sure you had packed the things you would need the most, like your passport. You couldn't run away without it. But the second and then the third knock became harder to ignore, and the courage you had built up in the process of getting ready to leave crumbled when you opened the door to find Christian standing on the other side.

"Whatever you're doing, don't do it." There's no apology, no simple hello, just another demand to do something that he wanted. You take a step back, and he mistakes it for an invitation to come inside. He walks by the foot of your bed, and the thought of you sharing it with Ty tightens his chest. "Stay," he says, his words almost sounding like a plea.

"I can't stay-'

"Yes, you can!" He talks over you, trying to force his side of the argument. "You and Ty are over, so what?" You gasp at his insensitivity. "Why should that mean we have to stop having fun?"

"Fun?" You repeat back to him. The pain simmering in the pit of your stomach forces your voice to crack. "It was 'fun' for the first few times it happened, but then it just became something you could torture me with." The corners of your eyes grow wet with new tears. "As soon as you knew that there was a chance that I had developed an attachment to you, you twisted it to your own advantage. You knew I would never say no to you, but here I am, finally telling you no."

"I can't let you go," he whispers, shaking his head in disbelief.

You chew your bottom lip. The only way you could move on from this is if you let him go. "You have to," you sniffle, wiping your eyes. He wasn't worth anymore of your tears.

"But I...But I..." He tries to force the truth, but his throat grows dry, and only a strangled cry of frustration makes its way out. "I don't want this to be over for us. I thought you loved me?"

"I do," your heart shatters as his eyes fill with tears, and you have to force yourself into not moving, "I love you more than you could ever know, but I can't love a guy who doesn't love me back. My heart is damaged, Chris, and I don't know what state you'll leave it in when you've decided it's time to move on. I have accepted that you will never love me! I have accepted that there will be no happy ending for us! That our love story is a tragedy Shakespeare wishes he could've penned. So, please, do the honourable thing and let me go!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I love you!" He snaps, with every ounce of emotion bursting out of his chest, shouting his confession across the room. The features on his face soften. His puffy eyes swell with giant tears. His bottom lip trembles. "I love you," he repeats, and you're stunned into silence. His voice cracks and fresh tears wet his cheeks, no longer having the strength to fight them back. "I've tried my hardest not to love you. I have slept with other women to make myself forget about you, but they are not you. Their skin doesn't feel as soft as yours. They don't taste as sweet as you. They are not the angel whose name my very soul calls for! Their names are not tattooed on the inner walls of my heart!"

He draws his hands against the centre of his chest, digging his fingers into his flesh like he was trying to rip his heart from the cage it was once locked inside. "Do you not see how I am scared to let my heart win?" He hopelessly cries out, tasting the saltiness of his tears as they land on his lips, "I am scared because I already know that I have the power to harm you." He takes a step back, dropping his arms either side. "I have harmed you." His voice is laced with guilt. "I have broken your heart time and time again, and yet you stand here and tell me you still love me? How? Why?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Maybe this is how love is supposed to be."

"I don't know much about love, but I know it's never meant to be this cruel," he replies, disagreeing with you, "you love a monster, Y/N."

"A monster?" You scoff and he nods. "If you are a monster then what does that make me, Christian? All you did was sleep with another man's girlfriend. I lied to him. I took advantage of him. For nearly two years, I made him believe that I loved him. Two years! Two fucking years!" You force yourself to laugh, but it's empty and lacks any genuine emotion. "My heart must either be as black as charcoal or as cold as ice to be capable enough of doing that to someone whose heart is filled with nothing but pure love."

Through the crack in the opened window, you could hear the muffled sound of laughter and cheers. A pang of guilt settles in your chest knowing that you had missed your sister's first dance and the cutting of the cake. You had missed the chaos of your baby cousins running around, high on sugar, and your parents' terrible dancing. You had missed jokes and the opportunities to create new memories. You had missed it all just so you could try and find a solution to the destruction that you were to blame for.

You suck in a deep breath. "I was just going to leave, you know," you tell him the truth, nudging your foot against the side of your bag, "get a cab to the airport and get the first flight available to, I don't know, Greece or Italy. Filling myself up with good food and flooding my veins with multiple bottles of good wine seemed like the better idea. I was going to run away from it all: from the heartbreak, from Ty, from my family-"

"From me," Christian mumbles, with fresh tears in his eyes. You blink back tears as you nod your head, confirming his suspicion. For a split second, he smiles, but it's lopped-sided and sad. He sniffles and wipes his cheeks. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," you shrug, "what do you want to do?"

"Right now, I just want to kiss you."

A bubble of hope formed in his chest as he watched your face crumple. The look of pain in your eyes slowly became one of affection, making his blood buzz with nerves. He could've closed the distance between you, sweep you up into his arms and kiss you like he had never kissed anyone before, but he didn't. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath, and waited for you to give him a sign.

You knew you might one day regret this.

"So kiss me."

Without hesitation, he closes the gap between you, fisting his hand in the back of your hair, and grabbing your hip in the other to pull you towards him. Both of you sink into each other as his mouth worked yours. His kisses were needy and demanding like he was starving for you, and the groan he let out as his tongue moved against yours left every nerve ending in your body ablaze with burning pleasure. He tasted you again and again until both of you were breathless and your head was spinning.

"I'm sorry," he apologises between kisses, murmuring it against your lips, "before this, before us, you were happy with Ty, but I was a selfish bastard and I tried to have something that wasn't mine. I ruined your chance at true happiness, so I understand if you can't forgive me." His hand that had been fisted in your hair lowered to your face, cradling your cheek, as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours. He wanted to remember this moment, in case it was his last. "I just need you to know that I am sorry for every bit of pain that I have caused you."

"You're right," you hum, looping your arms around his neck, "in the beginning, I was happy, but I was just...happy enough." He makes a humming sound as you massage your fingers against the base of his neck. You study the flecks of amber in his eyes, picturing a version of your life where you could wake up to them every morning, whispering, "but I was always at my happiest when I was with you."

"Me?"

You let out a surprised laugh and step further into his space. His mouth is so close to yours, only inches away, and with one finger, you trace it along his bottom lip. His eyes fall shut at your touch and you listen to the hum he makes with a small smile. Tonight you had gotten to see a whole new side to him, one that was softer and not afraid to be vulnerable with his feelings. A side to him you had only ever dreamt about.

"Do you really love me?" You ask, with your lips hovering below his.

"Yes," he answers, hooking his fingers under your chin, pulling your mouth against his, and kissing you soft and slow. He smiles against you as he runs his hand down the front of your body, his fingers brushing gently over your breast. "Why don't you let me show you how much I love you?" He talks against your mouth, pressing his hand firmly against your body, caressing you through your top. His lips trail open-mouthed kisses along your neck, following the path he had created earlier.

You press your hand against his shoulder and push him away. "Not tonight," you tell him, seeing the worry in his eyes, "I believe, even if I shouldn't." Removing his hand from your chest, you bring the inside of his wrist against your lips. The soft kiss against his skin makes his heart stutter. "But I don't want us to have sex tonight."

"No sex, okay," he nods, pecking your lips, "then what do you want?"

"I want room service, one of those crappy romantic comedies you like," you giggle as he mumbles under his breath about them not being 'crappy,' "and to fall asleep with my head on your chest, if that's okay with you?"

He cradles your face and brushes his thumb along your cheek. "And then tomorrow we're going to Italy."

"Italy?"

"Yes," he hums, skimming his thumb along your smile, "you said you wanted to run away, so let's do it together." He brings you closer and whispers, "I love you," before kissing you.

———————

Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chelseagirl98 @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @masonspulisic

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2023: more about the true winner because I said so

Hey, guess who is not over Eurovision 2023 yet.

It’s me, I am who.

I have never been so invested and still so obsessed over this year’s Eurovision. I mean, I am always hit by the post-depressive phase of Eurovision, but that lasts a couple days - during which I usually go through all the beautiful moments and listen to all the songs on repeat - then I’m back to my regular schedule of stupidly long analyses and fanfictions.

(By the way, sorry for all the Americans who follow me and have no idea of what I’m talking about or what happened in this year’s Eurovision. Just bear with me, I will come back to posting Sanders Sides stuff. Just not today)

This year... well, this year was truly something. And if the last year and the one before I was like “aww, what beautiful moments, I miss seeing these people having fun”, now it’s all mushed into one ball of feelings. I look at those artists having fun with the eyes of someone who saw how things went down. I look at them celebrating the true winner after the finale and I have this strange mix of nostalgia and heaviness.

I am not mad anymore for the result. Or better: I am and I will always be because 200 people stepped over the will of millions. But what this loss caused is just so fascinating and so unique, I want to keep exploring it - and maybe talking a little bit more about the true winner of Eurovision 2023 will help me process my feelings too.

Or I just will satisfy my need to ramble more about this incredible Finnish man, either way.

______________________

The sheer power of charisma

When you watch the entirety of Käärijä’s journey on this Youtube channel (and I suggest you do it, because it gives you a lot of food for thought), you notice a lot of interesting details.

From the moment he won the national competition and knew he had to go to Eurovision, Käärijä knew his only rival would’ve been Loreen. He said right from the start that it would’ve ended up with a confrontation between Sweden and Finland. He liked other songs and thought they could’ve been good opponents - but it’s pretty clear he knew the only one who could’ve opposed him was Sweden.

And he knew that Loreen was good. Even though I do not like her songs, even I have to admit she has good vocals. Sure, the vocals are the only thing I understand because she mumbles the rest of the song, but the vocals aren’t bad.

Käärijä knew she was the favorite to win. He praised her performance and called her “queen”, so he has been the first one to recognize her as a worthy opponent. He wasn’t so naive to think “I can easily beat her”.

However, he had some tricks up his sleeves. He knew his song was perfect for Eurovision, he basically designed it for that. He knew his performance would’ve got people’s attention. And he knew he had a lot of charisma.

You can say anything you want about him, but you cannot deny this man is charismatic. And this is a lot interesting, because charisma doesn’t have an exact definition and it’s not the same for everyone. And yet, we can all recognize and identify it as “charisma” when we see it.

The definition Wikipedia offers is that charisma is “a personal quality of presence or charm that compels its subjects”. And it’s undeniable that Käärijä has it. He has that genuine, simple honesty we see in childrens only and this activates our protective instincts, because we feel the need to protect him too. He is funny and makes us smile and everyone loves to smile and have fun. He is simple and humble and that makes him look more approachable and friendly than a superstar.

And his presence on stage is very, very good. He’s eye-catching and he knew it very well. He was the flashiest and the most interesting to look at - both because of his clothes and his appearance. Just compare him to the Cyprus guy: I don’t even remember the Cyprus guy’s face, but I doubt I will ever forget that iconic neon green bolero.

And I am sure he knew that very well. He knew the public would’ve loved him. He knew he would’ve gotten a lot of points because of the public. He knew he would’ve connected with them and not with the jury.

And so it was. The numbers are clear: he was and still is the public’s favorite. His result is the second highest in history right after Kalush Orchestra’s. The entire arena sang with him. During the voting portion, they kept calling his name. Everyone called him “winner”. As the Estonian singer Alika told him: “you had the public when they announced Loreen won”.

And by knowing that, I can understand why he was so bummed. He literally had everything: the perfect song, the charisma, public’s support. And I am pretty sure that, if the public gave more points to Loreen, he would’ve accepted his defeat easier.

But it wasn’t like that: he got more points than her in both the semifinal and the final. He has always been the public’s winner, right from the start. And even if he would've gotten the theoretical maximum of public votes from Europe (432), he still would've ended up behind Sweden.

Losing because 222 people gave your opponent an unbeatable lead isn’t something easy to digest. I mean, it’s been days and I haven’t digested it yet! And I am definitely not a singer, nor I did take part in the competition. However, I voted for him and, well, I am quite pissed that my money got wasted because of a stupid unfair system. The EBU should really refund everyone who tried to vote, considering there was no way to defeat the sheer power of the jury.

So, well, the competition ended with the public’s favorite losing the piece of glass. I will get over it, everyone will get over it. Käärijä himself will get over it - now he’s still rightfully sad about it, but as he said, life goes on.

And he will soon realize that losing the competition turned him into something more than a simple winner.

______________________

The birth of a legend

If Käärijä won, he would’ve been just the winner of Eurovision 2023. People would’ve loved him like they love Kalush Orchestra or Maneskin. Everyone would’ve been happy, a little bit of post-Eurovision depression as always and we would’ve forgotten it.

But losing had an even bigger impact, because Käärijä didn’t step down to second place, but over the first place. Being so spectacularly wronged in front of the world made him ascend to the status of legend and the public went crazy for him. Cha Cha Cha reached the top of Spotify's top 50 global, people from all European countries called him “the true winner” and I’ve seen more than one American, who knew nothing about Eurovision, watch his performance and protest for the result as well.

Even Tumblr was affected by this: the tag Eurovision trended for 3 days after its ending and, after it stopped trending, Käärijä kept doing it for days. And he’s still doing it, so good job people, let’s keep the party going on for a little longer: we all deserve it, after all. You know, as a little FUCK YOU to the jury.

What about Youtube? His grand final performance reached ca. 9 mln views in three days and if you check the comment section, is full of people calling him the true winner as well.

Heck, the Eurovision channel made a video specifically about his journey, like the usually do for winners only (in fact, they did one for Loreen. And Käärijä’s video got more views than Loreen’s in one single day).

And all over Europe people are still protesting and asking for the voting system to change. The Norway delegation asked it first and I fully support them, because they are constantly robbed by the jury. I liked Duncan Lawrence’s Arcade in 2019, but KEiiNO was a completely different level. (And if you loved KEiiNO too, please check their Youtube channel because they have made a lot of other songs and OH MY GOSH THEY ARE ALL GREAT)

Käärijä united Europe with his music and his energy and I understand why Finnish people are so proud of him: there are very few artists who are able to connect people so well. And he did it by using his mother tongue, not English! That’s an even bigger win imho, because it proves that if you have a great song, a strong performance and incredible charisma, people will appreciate you and go past the language barrier without any problem.

That’s why humankind loves music, after all: because it doesn’t need to be understood word by word, to reach people’s hearts.

______________________

The hero’s journey

There are many reasons why people fell in love with this funky green man and they all differ: someone loves his bubbly personality, others were touched by his genuinity, others just fell on the ground laughing and who doesn’t love someone that makes you laugh? And yes, there are some who are just horny for him and you are valid too, because he’s a good-looking man.

However, I think that the main reason why so many people got so invested, it’s because he had the perfect hero’s journey.

He already had a story perfect for a movie, even before starting Eurovision: when he was younger, he was diagnosed with colitis ulcerosa and the disease almost took his life (this post has an interview with all details). But because of that experience, he realized life is short and he should’ve pursued what he truly wanted - i.e. singing. I mean, this alone is perfect material for a movie already.

But now he got another story, and it’s even more like a movie: the story of the young man no one knew, who left his city in his small country, to reach the big European stage. A man with a funny spirit, who connected with everyone despite his broken English - and he wonderfully improved it along the way. Just look at how much more confident he became! Truly a masterful example of how we should just talk and make mistakes, in order to get better in another language.

So we followed the adventures of this funny man and of the friends he made along the way. We had fun and cried for the beauty of his friendship with Bojan (he literally called Käärijä “my new brother” and a small part of my heart that was broken got immediately healed). We got involved in his climbing to the top, we saw him face the behemoth that was opposing him and hoped for him to overcome it.

And he got the tragic conclusion of a hero’s journey: a hero who won and yet still lost.

People love this shit. We have always loved the story of the little one against the unbeatable enemy, the nobody who got the recognition he deserves, the kind heart defeated by the corrupt system. Those are all things that touch people and all aspects of the hero’s journey. And people naturally hope for a happy ending, so if we get a sad, bad or unfair one instead, we tend to feel even more empathetic towards the protagonist. And if your protagonist is as lovable as he is, the feeling is 100x stronger.

I really don’t know if the national juries expected this to happen, when they knew who the public’s favourite was and yet decided to award a different artist. But by doing that, they became the perfect enemy to close Käärijä’s journey and build a legend.

So, well, thanks for sucking so much. You built the legend you didn’t want to.

And yes, Käärijä’s enemy IS NOT Loreen. Loreen did her thing, she didn’t bribe the judges to give her votes. The problem is the jury’s power. So, for all the people who are still harrassing her: please stop hating this woman, she just did what other artists did too.

And since we’re talking about her, please stop saying shit like “She shouldn’t have participated!” too, because this is both very stupid (everyone is allowed to participate in Eurovision) and very disrespectful towards Käärijä himself. It’s a bit like saying that sure, he was good, but, like, you know, not enough good.

And this is totally wrong because this man has been able to defeat Loreen twice, both during the semifinal and the final (at least according to the votes that matter). So stop undermining his ability: he is a good artist. Actually, an artist so good only Loreen was able to compete against him.

And if you still think it’s right to hate Loreen for whatever reason, then I would like to bring this to your attention:

The king literally proposed to Loreen. And, considering how accurate was his foresight about the whole competition, I think it’s time we start to think about when it will happen and how many children they will have.

So if you are still harassing her: stop protesting for the piece of glass and ask her when will they get married, instead. We need to know.

Also, wouldn’t that be an even more perfect ending for Käärijä’s hero’s journey? Not only the great evil (aka the jury) will be defeated, but he will marry the only woman strong enough to oppose him. 100/10 I want a movie now.

And yes, I know Käärijä also proposed to Bojan and they are fathers of a baby sea lion. But what’s the problem? Doesn’t Käärijä have two hands? With one hand can hold Bojan, with the other Loreen, duh.

(Then he will probably need another hand for Selena from Austria, because I think she developed a little crush on him but hey, that’s the life of a hero I guess.)

______________________

Have you listened to his other songs yet?

I just want to confirm they are bops and you should listen to them immediately. Also, do not forget his concert on Saturday that will be available worldwide. Let’s show love to the king.

And yes, that means another post will come out. I mean, there are still so many things we need to know! I want to see the photos of that mural people are doing for him in Vantaa, I want to see the music collaboration between him and Bojan, I want to see them visiting little Edgar at the zoo. And I can’t wait to hear about his future European tour, because he has to do one. And maybe that will fully convey him how big his impact has been indeed.

As people told him in the after party, he conquered the world. Now he just needs to see it for himself.

#eurovision #eurovision 2023 #esc #esc 2023 #finland #jere from vantaa will go very far #good job finland #everyone loves you #and you don't even have to spend money to host the show #also you will be forever linked to the legend #just like ukraine #and that's another huge privilege #käärijä

[jarchaeology]

Hello, thank you for your work, please tell me if you know where there is a photo of little Jensen and his brother on the Internet, he is about a year old, are there any other photos like this, and can his mother add this to the Internet?

i'm sure she has tons of baby jensen pictures, but i doubt she'll be sharing more than she has. she used to be very active online during his early career, but i'm guessing fans have given her plenty of reasons to stay off of fandom spaces since then. truly can't imagine the horrors she's seen....

most of these came from his original website back in the day. one was in his senior yearbook. i think jensen posted the cowboys one as a profile pic at one point. the next one was from his 40th birthday banner. and the last two were used in the opening credits of devour.

i keep trying to find something from the print modeling and commercial work he did when he was four, but so far no luck. not only is that stuff just rare and hard to find, it's also incredibly difficult to distinguish one blonde boy with a bowl cut from another when you're looking at lower quality archival material.

[lemmetreatya]

car washer!avdol who loves his job because of the flexible hours it gives him. being a part time Only Fans creator doesn’t bring in all the money so he helps wash cars at his father’s dealership.

hes been washing cars before he knew how to drive so doing so is second nature to him. whenever locals or frequent customers come, they always make sure its him who’s buffing up their rides.

“i only want my car cleaned if mo’s doing it!”

and his father will assure them with a hearty laugh that that’s the case.

“it’s his only job!” he’d muse back, the irony in his words undetected.

but then on some weeks, car washer!avdol‘s father would take a few days out and leave the garage solely to car washer!avdol. these are the days they dont do walk-ins so car washer!avdol knows hes unlikely to be disturbed during this spare time. car washer!avdol likes to film impromptu photo-shoots and car wash scenarios that he posts to his Only Fans. they’re not high quality — 720 at best — but they seem to be the most receptive content on his site.

but on one of his off days, car washer!avdol‘s father tells him he has someone who’s cashed in a favour; a good friend of his wanted to get his car washed and was having his daughter to deliver it off. of course he agrees because what harm in there was washing one extra car? More so, who was car washer!avdol to say no to his pops?

but when you arrive to the dealership with your father’s car in tow, faux minx jacket and large square sunglasses on, car washer!avdol sees you for what you truly are.

“ive seen your stuff by the way.” you say as you lean against the pillard wall. car washer!avdol only gives you an amusing look before asking:

“what stuff?”

“Your Only Fans stuff, what else?”

car washer!avdol is slightly thrown off because no one he knows in real life has confronted him about this before but once he hears your tinkly laugh, his interest is piqued.

“don’t worry, your secrets safe with me. if anything i find it kinda cool.” you say.

car washer!avdol has an inkling for where you’re taking this conversation but he doesn’t say anything just yet — in case his mouth betrays him.

stepping forwards towards your father’s soapy car, you stand just besides car washer!avdol with your arms crossed.

“you done anything apart from solo content?”

car washer!avdol shakes his head.

“never. but it’s always been on my list to do meet ups or at least film content with others.”

your eyes almost sparkle as you lean over your father’s car to give car washer!avdol a hooded look. he wants to tell you your clothes are getting wet from the soap but something tells him that was the intention.

“well, why don’t we film sumin now?”

it was his idea, but car washer!avdol has you sprawled out over the hood of your father’s car as he fucks into you from behind. he has his phone filming you both from the side and yours filming from inside the car on top of the dashboard.

your moans are pornographic as car washer!avdol’s thick cock hits all the right places and more! you can’t believe how deep he’s surging into you and a good portion of your brain urges you to tap out.

“i-i-i-ist…fuck…so fuggin’ full.”

words barely leave your throat whole as youre cheeks are pressed against the soapy bonnet of your father’s car. each thrust earns a grunt out of car washer!avdol‘s mouth — every one dragging you deeper and deeper into wanton pleasure.

car washer!avdol doesn’t even let you come down from your first orgasm before he’s tugging you over onto your back, your ankles adjacent to his ears.

“so…fucking…”

he cant even finish his words, car washer!avdol feels so hazy delving into your wet fruit that he almost looses his grip and makes you slip off the hood! luckily, you catch yourself in time and car washer!avdol buckles his legs to support you but it doesn’t take long before he’s finishing inside of you with a low and almost inaudible gasp.

car washer!avdol sends you back to your father with a clean car. he however, cannot say the same for you.

#muhammad avdol #jjba avdol #avdol #mohammad #mohammed avdol #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo #muhammed avdol x reader #muhammed avdol x black reader

[selfdestructivecat]

I’ve seen quite a few posts in response to Thomas’ recent video, specifically his year in review. In this video, he discusses the setbacks he’s faced the past few years — such as the quarantine, Joan’s departure, and his own personal doubts and insecurities — and how they impacted the production of Sanders Sides.

And I truly sympathize with him. No, seriously! It’s already difficult to create something this big almost entirely on your own, but I’m sure this year only made things even more difficult. I know I’ve definitely felt insecure to the point of feeling sick when it came to things I created, so I can empathize with the enormous amount pressure he must be feeling.

However, many posts I’ve seen following this video are saying things along the lines of “If people still criticize Thomas after this video, then I’m going to lose it” or “Not that people who criticize Thomas even care, but Thomas really struggled this year. I’m with him all the way!”, or even “I bet SaSi critics will still demand the finale even after this. I doubt they’ll even watch the video!”

I want to clarify that this is obviously not everyone who doesn’t like ts criticism. People who block criticism blogs and/or the tag, who ignore criticism in general, or who feel upset when they see criticism of something they love: this is not about you. You are absolutely valid and entitled to feeling the way you do, and I hope you have a lovely day. Feel free to block me if that would be good for your mental health. Please take care of yourself. /gen

But to those vocally condemning ts critics, I want to make several things clear.

First of all, you are lumping everyone who criticizes the show in with people who demand the finale with no regard for Thomas’ well-being, for the well-being of his crew, and for basic common sense. While many people are upset that the finale isn’t out yet, we aren’t specifically mad that we don’t have a completed video to watch; rather, we are frustrated with what this says about the SaSi crew, their work ethic, and how they treat fans of the show.

We aren’t upset that we can’t watch the finale right now. We are upset that we’ve gotten very few updates about the show during this period between canon episodes. This video provided wonderful insight into why the finale has been delayed, and we would have loved something like this years ago. Obviously it didn’t have to be a 20 minute video, but maybe a Twitter thread? Something small that made us feel heard?

Hell, even announcing an official hiatus would have satisfied the vast majority of critics (myself included), instead of throwing SaSi into this limbo of “Oh it’s going to be finished this year, we promise- oh whoops, never mind! Next year for sure!” It’s been a constant chain of broken promises, and we were more than happy to give the crew some grace the first few times, but after a while, a repeated mistake becomes a pattern. And this pattern is not pretty.

We are upset that the crew seems incredibly disorganized (going back to the lack of updates, and of course taking into account how we haven’t gotten even a single part of the finale in five years), which could affect the quality of this series we all love so dearly. beauty-and-passion has spoken about this a lot (and is a lot more eloquent than me lmao, please go check out their stuff!) The most recent Christmas video seems to demonstrate that the series may be on the right track, and I will admit I was wrong in regards to this video, but the Inside Out video is a mess in so many ways. Even if this doesn’t prove a decline in quality, it certainly indicates a lack of consistency, which can be just as damning for a series.

We are upset that, while SaSi is in this limbo, Thomas seems to have been focusing on his other projects without telling us about this change in priority. He is welcome to pursue other projects, obviously. I’m thrilled that he is having fun with Roleslaying with Roman and My Roommate is Hades. But these new projects have come at the cost of Sanders Sides content, which also points towards a lack of organization. Some clarity towards which projects Thomas chooses to focus on would have been wonderful and greatly appreciated, so that we know not to expect something we won’t receive. And hey, maybe if we knew not to expect SaSi content until much later, maybe we wouldn’t have been constantly asking why we weren’t receiving SaSi content?

(And this is not an excuse for aggressively demanding content, obviously. But I feel like people who are confused and frustrated at not receiving something promised to them are justified in these feelings.)

And maybe we’re jumping to conclusions in many regards. I won’t pretend that we are prophets who can peer into Thomas’ mind and know what he’s thinking and feeling at all times. But it’s pretty damn difficult to say that NONE of the above could suggest that Sanders Sides isn’t held in the same regard as it once was. Hell, Thomas even admits in the video that he doesn’t feel as connected with these characters as he once did.

Second, many people attacking critics are also quick to drag their character. We are impatient, greedy, selfish, and cruel. We don’t care about Thomas; we only care about the end product! More Sanders Sides at any cost! We don’t like critical thinking, since we obviously didn’t watch the video; we only want to find mean things to say about Thomas and the show! We don’t like engaging in civil debate with our fellow Fanders who may disagree with our opinions; we only want to make other people feel bad, and to make others hate the show, too!

Well, guess what? You’re doing to us exactly what you think we’re doing to Thomas: you’re assuming the absolute worst of us and looking for any reason to drag us down.

We are critics. We analyze media (media that we love, mind you) and we acknowledge that it isn’t perfect, that the creators aren’t perfect, and we point it out. But we still love it anyway, because to truly love something is to love it with its flaws, to know that it could be better, to brainstorm how it could reach its true potential, and to keep doing so because you believe in this potential.

We aren’t trying to take away the joy you feel from Sanders Sides. So please don’t try to take away ours.

#ts criticism #ts critical #sanders sides criticism #my ramblings

[tinydeskwriter]

CINEMA {Chapter I}

A/n: Someone wrote a lovely comment describing y/n and harry as “ ex lovers with unconditional love that never truly go out of style trope” which is now my very favorite way to describe it, unfortunately, my careless self deleted the comment while trying to delete my own reply—because I post it without being finished (tumblr doing me dirty)— so I dedicate this to her/him/they (?), thank you for the amazing comment.

Thank you to everyone that replied to my desperate need of help to choose Y/n ‘s ex-boyfriend…

I honestly hope not to disappoint you guys with this first chapter, I just wanted to give a first glimpse of Harry and Y/n’s ‘friendship’ dynamic. Also, it’s almost Harry’s birthday!!

Cinema | Previous Part 1.Boyfriends

Harry holds the door open with one hand, as he hold a cup carrier with four coffee drinks in the other—Luis is arriving soon, and Rebekah must already be somewhere in the house with Y/n—, he doesn’t know most of the people passing by him, from the group of fifteen+ he recognizes Chrystal, Y/n lawyer—who in more than one occasion back when they’re dating, managed to get out of circulation invasive paparazzi shots of the young couple—and Monica, her publicist since 2012, Rebekah was right behind them, escorting them all to the door.

Rebekah is their age, pixie hair, New York accent, always in flowy blouses and high waist jeans, Y/n’s PA, friend and confidante.

“Good morning H, I am going to take this, thank you.” The woman took her usual order and went back inside, turning back a few steps in, “She’s in the music room.”

“Thank you Bekah.” He said closing the door behind himself and taking the opposite direction from the PA.

The music room was one of Y/n favorite places in her house, a large space with two walls made of glass overlooking the pool, with a view of the city and the park. It’s where she keeps her prized Concert Grand Piano in custom Sycamore wood adorned with a gold leaf mural of London’s skyline around the entire case of the piano, a twenty-first birthday gift by Harry—which her boyfriend at the time saw as competition and got her a 61’ Rolls Royce Silver Cloud II in an auction. 

Y/n’s enviable guitar and vinyl collections occupied the two inner walls, the only sitting furniture in the room—other than the piano bench—was the Bellini U-shaped couch from the 70’s in burnt orange velvet and Gucci throw pillows. The piece de resistance was the Brionvega RR126 Y/n inherited from her grandfather.

He found her laying in the couch reading what seemed to be a script.

She looked completely fine for someone who just sold 50% of what she called ‘her first born’, Harry was honestly expected a little bit of nostalgia or melancholia from his little love.

“Got you coffee.” He put the cup in her hand and kissed the top of her head as a greeting before sitting down next to her, his own coffee in hand.

Y/n hadn’t even took her eyes out of the pages.  

“How are you feeling?”The question finally made her put the script down on her lap, and sip her coffee before looking at him.

“I feel like I just sold half of my soul to the devil for $500million dollars.” She said deadpanned. 

Harry looked at her with furrowed brows. 

“So why sell?” He asked slightly confused.

Y/n had started Muse unpretentiously, her goal was simply to offer to the costumers something that lacked in the market: an all-inclusive, vegan, high quality and affordable priced make-up and skincare line. Muse became a beauty empire that included even daily/basic lingerie and loungewear in 69 sizes and 15 nude colors—going by Y/n’s philosophy that basic doesn’t need to be ugly, ‘nude tones’ meant different shades from beige and pretty stuff should fit everyone. 

It was her passion project. 

“I don’t have the hours in a day for everything I need to do, and I want to have a life, I want to be able to dedicate myself to relationships.” She said honestly. “LVMH is the same parent company that owns half of Fenty Beauty, they are the only ones that agreed to my terms, I get creative control and veto vote, the company philosophy stays the same, I am getting a female CEO of my choice, and Muse gets global distribution, we’re going to be available at Sephora, Harvey Nichols, Boots, Ulta at a even more affordable price.”

Harry nodded. She has handing over some control of her company to have more control of her life. It was almost poetic in a sense.

“And what is this about?”the 'Adore You' crooner points to the script on the youngest's lap, he knew her well enough to know when he need to change the subject.

“Robert Eggers’ new project...but first...”She stops, looking seriously at Harry, “how was it with Olivia?”

Harry and Olivia had agreed to meet that morning to discuss their relationship.

Olivia apparently felt that tempers had run out, and that everything had been left very much up in the air.  

Y/n didn't even know what was going on between the two until her former director called Harry the night before while they were getting ready for dinner, and even then she had only managed to get Harry out of the fact that they had had a fight before he came to her aid.

She had a suspicion there was trouble in paradise after Harry spent the third night in a row sharing a bed with her without his girlfriend's interference.

The man sigh, close his eyes and rest his head against the back of the couch.

“Was it that bad?” Y/n watches Harry closely.

Y/n honestly didn't like Olivia, and it wasn't even because the older one was dating Harry—which she personally found unethical and unprofessional, the kind of thing that causes a stain in someone’s career, specially with the whole scandal surrounding it.

The former Angel could write an entire essay about all her reasons to dislike Olivia Wilde, but in short it would resume to Olivia was simply an amalgamation of the kind of person Y/n looked down on in the industry: ambitious personality, fake character, and acting according to convenience.

She would never mistreat the woman or say a word against her in front of Harry, but that didn't mean she approved of their romance. 

And Y/n knew Olivia didn't like her either, she could see it in the older woman's catlike eyes, her years in the fashion industry made her perceptive of those kind of things. 

Olivia tolerated her for Harry, and had unwillingly offered the role of Violet to her under pressure from Warner Executives who saw Y/n as yet another money grab for the film—like Harry, she had a fanbase and more Instagram followers than the entire cast put together—and which she only accepted at Florence and Harry's request.

“We talked, we agreed that after our fight it's best to take some time off from each other, I have the tour, she still has to sort it out with Jason regarding the kids, we'll keep in touch, but we'll have a more definitive conversation when this leg of the tour is over to know where we stand.” He told her everything in one breath.

“And how do you feel about that?” The woman take a sip of her coffee.

Harry sighs again, running his hands through his hair in an anxious gesture

“I honestly don't know.” He confess. “I care about Olivia…”

“But you don’t love her…”Y/n completed. “That’s tough.” She nodded. “Do you think it’s a matter of time? Like, you can come to love her?”

“Yeah, sure…”He don’t look so sure. “Olivia is cool, she’s so intelligent and eloquent…” Y/n wide her eyes a little, condescending and pretentious fit Olivia better in her opinion. “If I am honest, our relationship hasn’t been a thought in my head for three days, this kinda of says something…”

“This actually screams something.” She said against her coffee, only to get a disapproving look from Harry. “H, you mistook the excitement of the honeymoon phase for something else and you stepped heavy footed into the relationship, I mean you moved her in three months after you guys started to date, we all told you it was too soon…”

“She needed a place to stay, things with Jason were though.” Harry defended his actions.

“And why is that?” The question was rhetorical, followed by a humorless laugh. “H, I love you, but you’re too good for this world.”

Harry looks at her with his brow frown. “Why?”

“My Love, everyone knows she broke up with Jason after you guys blurred the line, Florence told me that Jason and her acted pretty couple-ish the times he took the kids to visit, and that only changed after you started to spend too much time in her trailer.” Y/n told him what her and the girls had debated so many times before in their slumber parties over copious amounts of tequila. “Even Gemma agrees, and she’s like completely against talking about peoples life.”

The man stayed silent for a moment, absorbing what he had heard.

There was only one thing he wanted to know after hearing her thoughts.

“You never said anything against the relationship before.” It wasn’t even a question

“Because I want you happy, and you seemed happy with Olivia, that’s all I care about, it doesn’t matter if I don’t like the woman,” she answers with honesty. “I would never criticize your taste in women, the same way you never criticized my bad choices in men.” She jokes to lighten the mood.

Harry chuckles, eyes closing and dimples showing. 

The musician stopped criticizing Y/n’s boyfriends after the second time she got back with Abel after he got together with Selena while they’re on a break—he did wrote her na album as na apology. He kept quiet about Charlie—needy, jealous Charlie—, and bit his tongue with Jack—flirting, handsome Jack, even Harry would have to admit the younger man knew how to be charming—.

He liked Jack less than he liked Abel.

And he had despised Abel because they got together not long after their break up, and Harry was still hung up on her, regretting his decision to end their relationship. But it was too late, Abel swapped her off her foot the minute their break-up was announced, taking her on a first date in Dubai just months later, the beginning of their whirlwind, world wide romance that just ended for good in 2019.   

Jack, Harry hated him because he seemed less invested in the relationship than Y/n. He showered her with flowers and gifts and pretty words, but he was always away and it was always Y/n traveling to him. His Little Lovie was a woman in love with love, she always invested herself in the relationships, and was always heartbroken when things didn’t worked out in the end.

They were interrupted by Rebekah holding a lovely flower arrangement in her hands and an apologetic expression on her face. “Y/n…” 

The actress turned to where her PA stood in the doorway, the young woman rolled her expressive eyes at the peonies, ranunculus and carnations bouquet. 

“Beks…” Y/n sigh. “Just put it in the guest house, will you? Please.” She asked, and the held up her hand, stopping Bekah from leaving the room. “On second thought, it would be sad to let all those beautiful flowers go to waste, see if you can get a van to transport them all to the nearest nursing home.”

The assistant nodded and was already turning to leave the room and start to making calls when this time it was Harry who stopped her.

“Call Jeff, we have a van to transport instruments that you guys can use.”The musician offers.

“Thank you, H.”The young woman said honestly, with a bit of relief showing in her face.

The former couple turned best friends watch her leave the room before going back to their conversation. 

“Is he still sending you flowers?” He points to where Bekah disappeared with the flowers. 

Y/n just rolls her eyes. “I feel like I can open my own flower shop.” She takes another sip of her coffee. “He’s still blowing my phone.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Harry takes a sip of his coffee, watching her closely.

“NO!”She says categorically. “I played this back and forth game with Abel, I am not doing it again with Jack.” She sighs. “But I still have to see him at least at the VMA’s, I can’t pull back at the last minute.”

“Shit, I had completely forgot about that.” Sometimes he forgot that she was what the industry called a triple threat: she acts, she dances and she sings, she had already used her voice in three movies. 

With her always dating musicians, it was actually an impressive feat that none before Jack had put her vocals on a track—Harry did, but they aren’t dating at the time he recorded her for TPWK. 

No one ever thought that ‘Into Your Arms’ would blow up the way it did, it was a romantic—that in some ways reflected Y/n and Jack’s relationship at the time—song, and Tik-Tok and Instagram Reels made it a huge sensation.

“Yeah, we have to perform it on the 11th.” She honestly wished there was a shot of vodka in her coffee. “Let’s talk about nice things now, My Love.” She lifts the nearly forgotten script from her lap pushing it towards him. “I need you to do this with me."

{next part}

Taglist: @slutforcoffein ; @lilsiz ; @pandxthings ;

@ameerakane20 ; @angywritesstuff

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles x actress!yn #harry styles x model!reader #harry styles x singer!reader

[deva-arts]

Has Vincent ever truly broken down and admitted to having real feelings? Every facade's gotta crack at some point.

Vincent likes to pretend he's uncaring and unempathetic (especially regarding Sera,) but he's surprisingly protective of others, regardless of who they are.

...

...In his own way, of course.

Teehee so I wrote something about this um I never post any written oc stuff so enjoy

Sunlight wafts through the curtains where the couple lay peacefully atop the bed. Nathaniel was finally home from a long shift at the medbay, and Seraphina had decided to take a break from tuning her weapons to stay with him for the day. Birdsong filled the room, and they savored the soft, sleepy embrace they were in; life pried them apart far too much to be wasteful with quiet moments.

Nathaniel pulls her a bit closer, then freezes, mental gears whirring. Seraphina noted the pause right away.

She pries her eyes open to squint at him. “What’s wrong.”

He still has the face on- the face that says he is trying to understand something absurd yet concerning. “I-…” As if trying to prove himself wrong, he feels for her ribs again over her shirt, following the curve as his hands enveloped her torso. Oddly enough, he even motioned to count each one, only to halt in yet another worried pause, lips pressed into a thin line.

Seraphina quietly observed him, raising an eyebrow. “…Hugs exist, Nathaniel. No need to reinvent the wheel with whatever this is."

Nathaniel stops, nonplussed, then he breaks into laughter, forgetting his previous alarm. Success. "Hah... Ahah.. No, it isn’t that…” His face falls back into a placid smile. He pulled his hands away to sit up beside her.

Blast it all.

“It’s just that… Something is-“ He makes a vague motion with his hands. “-Different with your bone structure, but I wouldn’t be able to tell just what without proper scans.”

She blinked, sitting up to meet his expression. Were they really going to talk about this now? “Ah. Well that was kind of obvious, wasn’t it? I wouldn’t be able to function if I were a normal human with wings slapped on me.” …Was that wrong? Did he have some odd hope dashed regarding her skeleton of all things? Was he weirdly fascinated about skeletons???

He gave her a concerned, humorless grin. “I know that… But… Ser…”

Seriously? He was weirdly fascinated about skeletons?

Seraphina was unimpressed. “I fail to see how this is important at the moment, Nathaniel.” And right when they got some quality time...

Nathaniel didn’t respond. He looked away, his expression unreadable while he softly wrung his hands in thought. …She never liked when he got quiet like this. It always tugged her heart wrong.

Well, whatever it was, it was certainly worrying him to this point. Might as well hear him out. Sera gave his shoulder a light squeeze in an effort to be consolatory. This usually helped, right?

“… I was being... Harsh. What’s wrong, Liebe?”

Nathaniel hugs an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close by. So it’s a hug that works in this situation. Duly noted. She hugs him back, sweeping a wing over his shoulders.

He hums. “I…I don’t think I could practice on you and your brother with the same confidence as before.” He pauses. “All this time, I’ve been working under the assumption that you were just atypicals... But… No common atypicals have genetic variations that run that deep. They usually follow similar ‘rules’, so to speak.”

He drops his gaze to look at her. “I don't know how I've missed this, but I found something entirely different with a cursory check. Which means that I was operating on you with no clue about your bodily composition. All this time.” …Oh. Nathaniel remains ever pensive, even a little guilty.

…That...

"It also means that you've got a more heavily manipulated variation. At least enough to alter things to this point while still retaining humanoid anatomy." 

“…I see.” She says, hugging him a little tighter. His face softened a bit, which Seraphina took as a win as she considered his words. This was certainly a cause for concern... But… She also knew Nathaniel had a tendency to bear his responsibilities on himself rather harshly. He was probably beating himself up about it even now.

"You couldn't have known, Nathaniel." She says, trying to keep her tone easy.

He exhales. "That's the point."

Sera rests her cheek against his shoulder. “…Well. Even then. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Something told her this wasn’t the best way to lift his spirits. And she was right- he frowned in record time.

“You’re alive, until the next time you two inevitably get yourselves hurt, that is.” Nathaniel muttered. “What would I do then? Improvise if I encountered a new organ? use my imagination?”

“I doubt it’s to the point that I have new-“

���You doubt, but you don’t know.” He looks at her again. "And I don’t either.”

“…”

“…Can we please take a few scans in my office?”

They remained silent.

…

"...You won't let up about this, will you?"

"It's kind of important, Ser. We can cuddle later."

Seraphina huffed and kicked away the covers. “Never a dull moment…”

Nathaniel followed suit. “Let's be honest, who’d want a dull life, anyhow?”

---

“You aren’t doing shit to her.” Vincent sneered.

Nathaniel sipped some of his tea. Wow. So much for asking him for reference. He decided to waste his breath a little more. “For the nth time Vincent, I’m trying to see how her anatomy works, and that info would be really useful so I-“

Vincent loudly interrupted him. “So you can what, you lanky fuck? see how different you are? Find excuses to— to break her down? Gut her like a fish?”

Sera walked into the room in some light sportswear. "Vincent, what are you talking about-“

“NO.” He snaps at her, then turns back to Nathaniel. "Fuck you, Sasquatch. You. Aren’t. Doing. Shit. To. Her. I’ll make sure of that.” Nathaniel kept watching on as he continued the insults. Hum. Sasquatch was a pretty genius insult, actually.

Seraphina rolls her eyes. “While I appreciate your sudden and unneeded sense of protection, I’ll remind you that Nathaniel is my partner.” She said. “I don’t need your approval. Stop harassing him.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “You don’t know— You don’t know this. You say it’s okay but then they—” Seraphina interrupts him."There is no they, Vincent. There’s only one person here that will be doing this, and you’ve known Nathaniel for years-“

“I knew them for my whole life.” Vincent balled his fists until his knuckles popped. “My whole life. They only got worse, their ‘questions' became worse, and they never stopped, even though they knew me. There was always an excuse to… To…!” He looks down, making a strangling gesture with his snarled hands, eyes filled with emotions she's never seen him express.

“So don’t blame me for seeing this as another obvious excuse. That’s what they all say- that— that they need answers, and then they WRECK you.” Vincent’s usual rasp of a voice almost seemed shaky for a moment. 

Nathaniel sets his mug down. "I'm not doing any of those things, Vincent."

"YET."

This was new. It was odd to see any sort of empathy displayed by Vincent, especially towards her of all people. Sera didn’t know what to say. Where were his complaints about her? the out of pocket comments? the impromptu call to something she’s inferior for?

…Why did it almost seem like he cared?

“It should’ve been you." He says between bloodied coughs as she pulled off the last wire relays. He had no more energy to keep fighting, nor stimulants to keep him moving. He sucks in another ragged breath to speak, eyes brimming with pure hatred. "All this time… You got to have everything. Everything, when you should’ve been hacked apart with me. You should've been in hell with me. I wish you were. Then they would have realized you’re nothing special, 02. Nothing worth missing. You’ve always just been a cheap replacement.” 

...Right.

Seraphina scowled. There was no way in hell that this cockroach was going to act chummy with her of all things. That bridge was burned the day they met.

“Look, you—“ Sera started to respond, but was met with Nathaniel’s “cut it out” face. Bother. She crossed her arms and let him handle the rhetoric.

“Alright Vincent, are you really convinced that I’ll hurt your sister somehow?” Nathaniel asked, crossing his arms with an odd, almost knowing glint in his eyes. So he did have a plan... But what was it?

“…There’s always an opportunity. ” He said lowly. If looks could kill...

“Fine, how about you stay in the room, then? You’d be able to see firsthand that it’s nothing to worry about.” Nathaniel gave him a bright smile. It was almost enough to make her forget what he just offered. Seraphina glared at him. “What.”

Vincent eyed him, judging him under criteria she couldn’t guess if she tried. “Alright, Sasquatch.”

WHAT.

"If you do something funny I’m destroying your clinic. Then you.”

Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to reply. “Sounds good.”

Sera gripped her crossed arms while Vincent took a seat on the opposite side of the room. Nathaniel grinned at her, shooting her a goofy two-eyed wink.

“Relax, Ser. It’s only some scans, your privacy won’t be violated if he’s there. I'm also making sure my clinic doesn’t get destroyed.” She hated how casual he sounded about this.

“I’m starting to hate your improvisations.” She grumbled.

“You forget that he lives with us.”

—

Vincent was… Honestly surprised after everything was wrapped up. It was like being shocked— no, wrong word— surprised, but in a good way- he didn’t have the term for that feeling yet.

His idiot knockoff was perfectly fine. Sober. Painless. Not even the slightest bit uncomfortable. Possibly a little awkward since he was there, but he had to be there, otherwise-

…

Otherwise…

…Really, what would that beanpole have done?

Vincent really didn’t know what he was so upset about. He did know Nathaniel for a long while, but... He also didn’t know what separated their coats from his. He wouldn’t risk it either way. Ever since the first day he looked into Sasquatch’s eyes, he knew there was something fucked up underneath.

...It didn't sit right with him.

Hell, he didn’t even have a word for a check this boring. Nice words? Gentle handling? No shoving into scanner machines? no electrocution? No VAST tech remotes? Not even the slightest threat or restraint? As Nathaniel promised, she was okay and unmoved as ever, staring at him with the sort of look that said “I told you so.” What she would never know is that he had no grounds to believe him before this. He’s never seen tests like these before.

It was eventually finished in around three hours time. Nathaniel had made a catalogue of important scans, cross-referencing whatever he found with some basic physical inspection that culminated in checking her range of motion, doing a modest external examination, and being overall professional. Vincent thought that being professional meant being extra good at being heartless, like knowing how to keep working for hours to the sound of blood-curdling screams. Or making deep, precise cuts even when the subject is moving.

...His chest aches.

Vincent was certain that Nate was going to pull out earplugs at some point and was ready to wring his neck like a towel.

...

But he didn't.

He didn't do any of those things.

It was there that Vincent realized another thing. If this was all Sasquatch needed to piece together what was going on inside of her, then why did they do so many procedures to him with the excuse of doing the same? He expected force, vivisection, grueling trials, and humiliation. He expected to see suffering, gritted teeth and uncaring faces. But none of that was supposed to happen- only a light exam with happy words, full consent and a sunlit room.

Vincent felt something overwhelming for a moment- the sort of emotion he would’ve immediately attributed to harrowing jealousy. But no, now he finally found the word for it. The word he never understood how to convey, since he felt it all the time and no one would listen.

Vincent felt hurt; unbelievably so.

Was he just dealt a shit hand at every turn in life? Why couldn’t he have nice things? Why was everything so fucked for him from day one?

Why could no one care?

He realized at that moment, that everything he was forced to learn was a mere casualty.

—

Seraphina walked out of the scanner’s range and walked up to him. “See, Vincent? There was nothing you needed to break into histrionics about. I’m fi-“ “Shut up.” He cut her off, and shoved a data-port into Nathaniel’s hand. “You’ll find a better use for this.”

Nathaniel briefly looked it over. “What is-“

“You two proved me wrong. Good. I’m out, now.”

Before Nathaniel could even call for him, Vincent was already out of the circular window and speeding between the clouds. A trail of mist was left in his wake until his silhouette was too far to be seen.

Seraphina took the port from Nathan’s hands and observed; on it was a familiar logo- Venus Inc.

The organization that had apparently made them both. Whose existence Vincent loathed acknowledging, even in passing. The ones that nearly got ahold of her too, had she not been taken into hero work.

“Nathaniel.”

Nathan looked back at her, still looking out the window. “Yes?”

“Your insistence on him being there… You knew there was substance to his fear, didn’t you?”

“…More than you would think.” There was something unidentifiable in his eyes. She already knew it meant nothing good.

Sera held his gaze for a moment, then pocketed the port herself. She would have to look into this later. But for now…

She rubbed Nathaniel’s back a little, offering a small smile. “Tell me what you learned from these scans of yours.”

The wave of darkness lightened up a little, and he smiled back. “Well… It’s… I can’t say I know everything yet, but for one your arterial mapping is entirely different.”

Oh.

Oh no. She legitimately could not care less.

He was bursting at the seams to speak about it though. His eyes were twinkling about the wondrous joys of… Anatomical function…?

…Perhaps it would benefit from a tactical perspective…

“Arteries? Do tell.”

"See, when we were still getting to know each other, I patched you up under the assumption that you were an atypical or something of that nature-“ He starts, activating the hologram projector in the ceiling.

“Yes, you’ve said that.” She says, eyeing some of the scan results that come out.

...Hm. Maybe it was a little interesting.

Nathaniel smiles at something, and starts to gesture towards some of the stills. “But in truth-"

#seraphinatag #nathanieltag #vincenttag #ARK_SYSTEMA #DevaWrites #wah I hope this is nice #Behold #the pocket imager! Nate uses it a lot especially out on the field #it's not too efficient when it comes to in depth scans but boy is it helpful #it utilizes the same liquid crystal projection that's found all around their base and in modern tech. just for a different function. #a peek into vincents fucky lil brain just for you tolkien

[gurugirl]

Smutty One Shot

In celebration of 100 followers (my blog has only been up a little over a week) I’m posting my first quick smutty Harry one shot! Thanks for all the love ❤️

Summary: Harry, a stranger to you, wants to buy the albums you’ve put on Facebook marketplace. Once he’s in your apartment you wind up giving him more than your albums. 3.5k words

Warning: NSFW, SMUT

NOTE: This was written in the early days of my fic writing stage and it's not my best work!! You've been warned 😬 xoxo

You were moving out of state and needed to get rid of some stuff. You posted some furniture and odds & ends on Facebook Marketplace and sifted through all the scammers and weird requests that came in the days to follow. There were a few with genuine questions and interest but for the most part you had no-shows or they’d just stop contact with you completely out of the blue.

That is until he showed up at the time he said he would and kept in contact with you throughout the entire process. You couldn’t believe your luck! You waited for him in front of your condo when he messaged you saying he was just around the corner. You really needed to start selling your stuff or it’d all just be going to the thrift store for donation and you sure could use the money before you moved away.

Harry parked his car in front of your building and when you saw what looked like the description of the car he gave, you watched closely as the man climbed out and stood upright as he closed his door. He was quite attractive, you couldn’t lie. He was tall and broad, with curly brown hair and tattoos covering an arm.

When he spotted you wearing your yellow linen dress (as you told him you’d be wearing) he smiled brightly with a row of healthy teeth and a deep dimple. The closer he got you could see his eyes and he really just was the whole package. But then when he spoke to you…

“Hi. I’m Harry.” He held his hand out to you but all you could focus on was how handsome he was combined with a deep voice that was lined with a British accent.

You only reached out to shake his hand when he chuckled at the state you were in. His light laugh brought you back enough to remember to compose yourself.

“I’m sorry! I’m… uh. Well, it’s this way! Follow me!”

You really needed to calm down. He was only here to pick up your collection of albums after all. It’s not like you were inviting him up so he could fuck your brains out or anything. That kinda stuff only happens in the smut fics you read. Definitely not in real life.

You lead the way to the elevators and find yourself talking his ear off about your albums and how you also have a turn table and console that you’d like to get rid of. You laugh uncomfortably when he only hums in response.

“So, anyway. I don’t know if you want to try out the albums. Ya know… like test them out on my turntable to make sure you’re getting good quality vinyl. So, like, if something was scratched I could, ya know…”

You trailed off and didn’t finish your sentence when you looked up at Harry and he was just grinning down at you.

Why was he looking at you like that? You’d probably been rambling and now he thought you were a complete ditz. Or he found you annoying.

When the elevator finally made it to your floor you exited quickly, glad for the change in atmosphere. Harry followed you down the hallway to your apartment and you both entered your little space where you silently led him to the albums.

“So, you can look through them or whatever. I won’t hover.” You turn to look back to Harry and he’s got his eyes on you, his head cocked slightly and a smirk on his pink lips.

“You okay, pet? Seem a little nervous. I’m not going to bite ya. Unless you’re into that.”

His eyes stayed glued to you and you watched as he not-so-subtly dragged his gaze down over your figure. Was he hitting on you?! There was no way. He was far too attractive to be truly flirting with you. Nah…

You open your mouth to respond but you aren’t quite sure how to. If he were actually serious you’d tell him that, yeah, you are into that and you’d let him bite you if that’s what he wanted. You’d let him pull your panties down over your thighs and fuck you against your couch or the kitchen table even. Instead you just laugh and feel your face grow hot at the image that had just filled your dirty mind.

“Cat got your tongue? You seem flustered.” Harry reaches a hand up and gently squeezes at the back of your neck. His hand at your neck has you nearly purring as you close your eyes for just a second. It’s been some time since you’d been with anyone and Harry’s overwhelming presence and attractiveness were really doing something to you.

You nod and force yourself to speak, “I am a little flustered. Yes. Sorry.”

Harry keeps his hand at your neck, gently squeezing and massaging and you wouldn’t normally let a stranger touch you but somehow this was different. Harry was different.

“Now why’s that? Are you flustered because of me? Y’got nothing to be worried about. Not gonna hurt you. I promise.” His eye contact is intense and he’s so attractive that it almost hurts.

All you can manage to squeak out is a tiny okay.

He’s not here to hurt you or fuck you.

When Harry releases your neck and moves to the albums to look through them you step away to let yourself breathe. You lean against your kitchen counter and close your eyes. It helps make you feel more grounded.

When you’ve calmed down a little you peek around the corner to see Harry holding up an album. You decide to turn on your turntable so he can test what he wanted.

You click the button on for the sound, turn on the receiver and lift the lid for him.

“If you want to try any of them just flip this switch and it’ll start spinning and play the record.” You speak softly, not looking at him in the eye as you give the instructions on how to use your turntable. You move away from the space so you aren’t hovering but before you can get far Harry’s gripping your elbow to hold you in place.

“Look at me. There we go,” Harry says and as soon as you look up at him you are caught once again by his presence and those mesmerizing eyes.

He chuckles at the state you’re in, “I think I have a good idea of what you need to help you calm down. Want me to tell you what I think?”

You nod your head, eyes still on the tall man. He moves so his grip on your elbow has pulled you into him and his other hand is on your hip. You’re going to burst if you don’t peel your gaze away from him but you can’t seem to.

“I think you want me to help you. You’re all worked up and you need a release. I could use one too if I’m honest. Pretty girl like you could really do the trick.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and just kept nodding your head. Yes. You needed a release and Harry was so attractive you’d let him be the one to do it with no questions asked.

“Yeah? You want that? How do you want it?” He dips his mouth down close to your ear and it makes you keen at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“I want… however you do it. Anything.” You are feeling desperate in his close presence.

“Anything? So no preferences? I’ll tell what I like. I like to touch a little first. Kiss.” He speaks against your ear and it’s getting you hot and you just know your panties are evidence to how hot you really are. “Really let you get into it, ya know? I want to feel you get nice and wet and then I can taste a little if you’re up for it. Maybe we can both taste and leave it at that. But if you really mean it that you want anything then I’d like to fuck you until you’re all relaxed and calmed.”

“God…” you breathe out. You wanted that. You begin to nod and Harry moves the hand at your elbow up to cup your face and his eyes remain solid on you.

“Does that sound okay?” You continue nodding and squeak out an affirmative yes. That’s all he needs to hear to bring his lips down to yours.

His lips are warm and he quickly licks at the seem of your lips so you open up for him and you feel his tongue inside of you mouth. Suddenly you are being moved in the direction of your couch but Harry never removes his lips from yours. When he’s pulled you to the intended destination he lets go of you for a second so he can bring you to sitting with him. Once you’re both seated you resume making out. It’s hot and wet and Harry even lets out a small moan from deep in his chest and it makes you aware that he’s enjoying this too.

In a moment of sudden braveness (or horniness most likely) you place your hand over his thigh and slide it up toward his crotch, but you stop before getting all the way there. Harry pulls at your waste to draw you in closer and then parts his lips from yours.

He looks down to where your hand is and places his own over the top of yours and gently pulls your hand to over his clothed erection.

“Feel that, pet? I’m already hard for you. Your lips are so sweet. Makes me want to just eat you up.”

You look down at your hand and the thick lump underneath his pants and give him a firm squeeze and he groans.

“Mmm… yes. Wanna help me undo my pants, pet?”

You quickly get to work unbuttoning and unzipping him. His grey briefs under are now visible, along with the prominent erection tenting them.

Harry grabs at your hand again and places it over him. He’s so hard and thick under your hand. You’re curios to see him with out the briefs but you’ll be patient. He brings his lips back to yours again and you two start up right where you left off.

It soon turns into Harry bringing his own hand onto your thigh. Your dress has ridden up just a bit and so your thigh is bare to him. He lightly caresses your skin as he continues kissing you. You’ve kept your hand over his covered dick and have begun rubbing at him.

“Can I?” He says breathlessly as he smooths his hand further up your thigh to just under the bottom hem of your dress.

You nod, “Yes.” He presses his lips back to yours as he slowly moves his hand up your dress and makes contact with the edge of your panties. He backs away from the kiss and you see the aroused look in his eyes.

“Can I move these to the side? Feel you?” He asks as his fingers tap over the fabric of your panties.

You look down at his hard cock and then return your gaze to him, “Yes. But can I pull you out too? Want to feel you.”

Once he’s got your panties pulled to the side and you’ve lowered his briefs it feels like chaos. It’s wonderful chaos though. His lips on yours, his fingers gliding over your slick center and your hand strokes over his thick shaft gently. It’s all moans and saliva and rushed kisses with hands exploring and feeling.

Harry smells so good, you find yourself thinking. Nice and clean with a hint of something sweet. It somehow makes you feel better about this whole ordeal. You’re probably about to have a one night stand with a stranger you’ll never see again so at least you know he’s showered and smells nice.

When he removes his fingers from you he takes the arousal drenched hand and dips a finger into his mouth.

“Mmmm… mind if I get you to lay down? Get a better taste?” He slurs his words. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you are in a state of yes when it comes to Harry right now so you immediately scoot yourself around to lay flat onto your back with Harry moved in between your bare legs.

He gently pushes your dress up to your hips and moves your panties to the side again, wasting no time in diving his mouth right onto your wet cunt.

Harry eats you like you’ve never experienced before. He’s all in. He uses his hands and his mouth and his tongue and his nose. It feels so incredible along with the occasional eye contact he gives you and the moans that spill from his mouth vibrating into your core.

Harry lifts his head up and keeps his index and middle finger working your dripping hole as he speaks, “You’re so wet for me, pet. Bet I could just fill you up with my cock right now, huh?”

You look down at him between your thighs and he’s gorgeous with his hair wild from your fingers running through it. He’s watching you to determine if you’re ready for him or not and you’re still in a state of yes.

“Please. Yes!” You wiggle your hips and Harry grins at you with his dimple making an appearance. He removes his fingers from you and sits up. You can see his dick is still hard and begging for relief.

“Do you have condoms?” He asks. In your haze of lust you’d forgotten that vital part. You search your mind for where your condoms would be. It’s been a while but you know you’ve got them somewhere.

“I think… yeah just let me go find them.” You sit up and your panties snap back over your center and you hate the feeling because you’re so wet. As soon as you enter your bedroom you pull your panties off completely to rid yourself of the drenched material.

Searching through your dresser you come up empty but then you try your side table next to your bed and there they are. Your 10 pack has 7 condoms left inside and you check the expiration and thank the higher powers they are still usable.

Grabbing the whole box you quickly re enter the living room to see Harry waiting patiently on your couch where you left him. Cock still out, smirk still present.

“Probably only need one, pet.” He jokes when he sees you’ve carried the whole box to the couch.

You laugh, “I know but I was just hurrying.” You remove one of the wrapped condoms and place the box onto your coffee table. Handing Harry the condom you sit next to him and watch as he removes the rubber from the package and rolls it down over his impressive length. You can’t wait to get him inside you.

“How do you want me?” Harry asks as he climbs over you and presses his lips back to yours. It’s a searing kiss and you don’t know how you’re supposed to answer him when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s hot and sloppy and he’s got your head spinning.

When he finally parts from you there’s a gasp that falls from your lips. He’s pressing his tip against your wet pussy and you can’t think straight.

“Fuck, just fuck me. Please. Want…” you’re words are cut off as he begins to push inside of you at your pleading.

He slowly enters you with his lips over yours and when he’s bottomed out you both moan at the relief. He feels incredible inside of your hot cunt. He helps spread your legs for him so he can rock into you and when he angles his hips upward you feel him gliding over your sensitive g-spot and then he pushes into you over and over again.

Harry’s keeping himself hovering as he gets into a hearty pace and you feel the material of his jeans rubbing in between your thighs at each thrust. You’re both still clothed minus the panties you removed and it’s so hot having a stranger as sexy as Harry is, over you and pounding away into you while he’s still got his jeans most of the way on. It feels desperate and dirty, because it is.

Harry leans back further to make his thick strokes even deeper and you see stars when he does this. He’s fucking into you so deeply and deliciously that you are making all kinds of noises and moans at each dip of his cock. Harry’s also being a little more vocal than he normally is. He’s so gone in this moment and can’t believe his luck that the gorgeous Facebook marketplace girl (yeah, he checked out your profile before he contacted you about your albums) is letting him fuck her.

You reach down to rub over your clit because you’re so close but not quite there. You need a little something extra and as soon as your fingers make contact you feel how quickly your orgasm is approaching you.

“Oh god. Yes! Fuck, Harry!” It’s so warm and wet and it feels so good in every way. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d be letting a stranger into your home and let him fuck you but how could you deny Harry? He was probably the most attractive man you’d ever met. And he was so good at what he was doing you really couldn’t regret anything.

“That feel good, pet? You feel so good around my cock. How’d I get so lucky? Fuck you’re so pretty.”

Harry was losing his even pace with his own orgasm coming to a head quickly. He increased the rhythm a bit when he noticed your thighs were beginning to shake. You were rubbing at your little clit with fast movements and his yummy dick was filling you so good. Your mouth was hung open and your face hot. Harry kept his eyes on you, waiting to see you fall apart on his cock. He wanted to be sure you came before him.

“M’gonna come. Oh my god! Fuuuuu…” you choked out a strangled moan as your body began to tingle and your orgasm washed away all of your thoughts and worries. Harry pumped into you a handful of times as he watched you come on his cock before he let himself go. Harry groaned deeply and threw his head back when he felt the wave of euphoria hit.

Once you’d both come down Harry leaned over you and kissed you hard.

“Mmm… that was exactly what I needed. You feel a little better now, pet?”

You are still breathing a little hard when you nod and respond, “God yes. Thank you.”

Harry laughs at your repones and slowly pulls himself out. When you’ve both cleaned up Harry goes back to your album collection and decides he’ll take them all.

“So, are you moving or? S’that why you’ve got all your stuff on marketplace?” Harry asks you as he boxes up the albums.

“Ugh, yeah. Got a job in another state and I have too much stuff to bring with me so I’m trying to get rid of what I can before the move.”

“No shit? Wow. Congrats. When, uh…” Harry scratches at the back of his neck, “…when do you move away officially?” He asks the last part as he looks directly at you.

You feel your face getting hot again. “Two weeks from today.” You smile at him sheepishly. You don’t know if he would want to see you again before you left but you certainly wouldn’t be against it.

“Ahh. Okay. Well, uhm, if you wanted to like hang out before you leave or something… like this weekend my band is playing at Piper’s bar. Be nice to see you again. If you wanted…”

You smile at him and nod, “Yes. I’d really like that. Uh, do you want my number?”

You both exchange numbers and make plans to see each other Saturday night. When he drives off you feel totally relaxed and de stressed. There’s no telling what the future looks like and it’s doubtful Harry is part of that as you’re moving soon, but you sure have no problem enjoying what you can while you’re still here.

Check out my masterlist if you enjoyed this! 😘

Xoxo

#harry styles #harry fic #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic

[fanfic-inator795]

WoY: A Decade Later (A personal retrospection)

Wander Over Yonder… for a time, it was - in my opinion - the best cartoon ever. It was my number one, and I wasn't sure that anything else could top it. While I don't necessarily feel the same way these days, it's still a cartoon that very much lives in my heart and I don't think I'll ever truly leave it behind.

From a personal perspective, it was probably the biggest and most active Fandom I had been in at that time. It wasn't my first fandom/hyperfixation - prior to WoY, there had been Cartoon Network's Chowder and Regular Show, as well as Disney's Phineas and Ferb. But Chowder was short-lived and RS and PnF were both shows I had lost interest in due to them beginning to dip in quality.

WoY, however, was new, fresh, exciting and growing rapidly. It inspired me to write probably at least a hundred fanfics. It was a blast live-reacting to new episodes with everyone and seeing all the art that would come afterwards. It brought me into the RP scene and, if not for that, I might have never met my best friend of 10 years (and counting! Love you, Tessa).

Looking back on it 10 years after the fact, I can't fully say that WoY is still my favorite cartoon (shows like Kid Cosmic, The Ghost and Molly McGee, Big City Greens and Craig of the Creek have all outshined it in one way or another), nor can I claim that it is/was a perfect show. But man… It sure was a hell of a ride.

(Keep reading for all my admittedly VERY LONG personal thoughts or opinions regarding this one of a kind show)

Humble Beginnings

Pretty sure I've mentioned this before, but I actually didn't care for WoY at first. It was the summer right before college, and I remember watching the sneak peek - The Picnic - early one morning after not being able to go back to sleep. I remember not really laughing much or even seeing the appeal… and yet the episode stuck in my mind, to the point that I ended up watching it again during a free moment I had from Freshman Orientation Week. I had a similar reaction to the show's proper pilot, The Greatest - not loving it, but not hating it either.

The fact that people/friends from my RS and PnF days were also posting about it helped keep the show in my mind (shoutout to Taylor, Erin and Darkwing). But it wasn't until two specific episodes - The Fugitives and The Good Deed - that I managed to finally start to connect with the characters myself. 

I started to see the appeal in this little furry orange spoon who just wanted to do good and make others happy, even when it was a struggle. I really liked the show's core theme of not just optimism and positivity, but also just being kind. I also started to really enjoy the show's sci-fi and space aesthetic and grew to adore its animation and gorgeous backgrounds, as well as laugh at its wacky sense of humor (I still laugh at The Fugitives/Good Deed quite a bit, even though I probably have their entire scripts memorized at this point).

So, it was official. I was hooked. Whenever there were new eps, I'd either try to watch them on the basement TV in my college dorm or wait for a livestream or FreeCartoonsOnline upload. If we're being honest, the first half of season 1, while being much more low-key than the wackiness that the show would end up eventually shifting to, was probably when it was at its most consistent. Other eps later on would reach higher highs, but getting stuff like The Bad Guy, the Prisoner, the Troll, the Pet, the Box and The Little Guy back-to-back just made my love for the show grow more and more.

The Little Guy specifically is one that is just incredibly well-crafted in its dialogue, story-telling and pacing, being both enjoyable and heartfelt. (Also the last time I watched it the ending made me bawl so, there's that, lol). Shortly afterwards, The Hero was another ep that I distinctly remember sticking in my head for whatever reason (Dracor and Demurra are still adorable, ngl). Then we had another favorite of mine, The Nice Guy.

I know I may be in the minority on this one - I remember my parents being annoyed and frustrated when they watched it with me, haha - but I absolutely love this episode. I find the jokes funny enough - the cashier is one of my favorite minor characters tbh - and the space gas station appeals to my aesthetic. But what really sells this episode for me is how it handles and portrays its moral of "being nice isn't always easy, but it's still right and still worth doing". Its ending never fails to get an "awwww" out of me, and honestly I could probably go on for an hour about all the little details and things I like/appreciate. I've also grown to really like its sister episode, the Time Bomb.

But no show is perfect, and right around here is where the show, in my opinion, started having some misses. It was mostly just "meh" affairs like The Night, The Toddler and The Big Job (weird, since I usually like heist eps… though I haven't rewatched this one in a while so *shrugs*). Other eps like The Tourist and ESPECIALLY The Helper (which I consider to be the show's worst outing, the vibes are just SO WEIRD on this one) I just didn't care for at all. 

Nothing terrible (save for the Helper), just cases of the jokes not landing or the stories being boring. This was also when the show really started leaning into the wackiness - which wasn't BAD persay, since it led to some really funny jokes and memorable moments when it was used well - it's just that looking back, I sorta miss the simplicity of early s1.

Thankfully, the season put out some real bangers by its end, with my personal faves being The Epic Quest (that ending will never not make me cackle. Again, it's a case of the wackiness actually working incredibly well), the Halloween/Christmas special, and the Rider, which is a great adventure to cap off the season and also the Horse from Horsin’ Around guest stars in it! (and does a pretty good job too. Will Arnett is def one of my favorite celeb VAs at this point, ngl)

So yeah, between the two seasons, s1 is easily my favorite. Call it nostalgia or personal taste, but for me it's all about that consistency. Adding in the fact that s2 has some pretty notable flaws and is thus a lot harder to look back on without noticing those flaws, and it's really no contest for me. 

New season, New problems

I certainly remember the excitement - as well as the fandom's stir craziness - in the lead-up to s2. There were crackships that were invented, silly RP blogs were rampant, Craig McCracken and crew (back when they were still on Tumblr) kept us fed with cool behind the scenes info as well as sneak peeks of the new season, and while I can't recall when it specifically happened, I also vividly remember the 'Bad End to Episodes' phase that the fandom was in at one point. Ah, the joys of still being in your angst phase.

Come that year's Comic Con, and a new round of hype came from the reveal that our new villain of the season was going to be a girl! …yeahhh, it sorta sucks recalling how hyped we all were about Dominator now that we know that she didn't quite work out the way we were all hoping for…

But regardless, s2 had a very strong start. Outside of the premiere, my favorites of this first batch would easily be The Boy Wander and The It for both just being incredibly funny. Although, if you had asked me at the time though, I probably would have said the Skeleton Dance fueled eps that were The Big Day and the Fremergency Fronfract - and like, yeah those eps can still be funny and enjoyable, but I've definitely cooled on the Skeleton Dance ship since these eps first premiered. (Still love a lot of the cute fanon stuff though)

Skipping past the next tent-pole episode for right now, this season had two of my favorite episodes of the ENTIRE SERIES - these being The Cartoon and The Black Cube. The former is just hilarious while the latter has a unique visual presentation and feels like an early s1 ep, and I mean that in the best possible way. I also really enjoy the Eye on the Skullship as well as the Hole… 'Lotta Nuthin' (this one especially, as it's another instance where, for as good as the ep is as a whole, it's the heartwarming lesson and hilarious ending that makes it such a winner in my book).

But for as much as the show was still putting out hits, I'll admit that there were also quite a few meh or just okay eps, especially as the season goes on. Some eps I found funny when I first watched them, but that humor doesn't hit as well when I watch them now. I also feel like there were points where it tried to be TOO silly to the point where it inhibited the actual humor and made the characters flatter and a bit flanderized compared to how they were in s1 (Hater especially got hit bad with this, where it’s less about him ‘softening up’ to show that he has the potential to be a good guy, and more just him constantly leaning into him being a bratty teenager instead of having that mix of dumb/bratty teen boy and legit evil conqueror).

Other times, it was just another case of a story not being as good as it could have been - and by this point in the season, while there are still enjoyable eps with fun concepts/jokes in the latter half of the series, the only one to get near the peak of the show's typical high quality is the musical ep, and if we're being real, it's Andy Bean's impeccable songwriting that saves this ep and makes it so good to rewatch despite its connection to the season's flawed overall story.

And I think it's about time we talk about that…

Not Quite Ready for Serialization

Being a show that was made right after Gravity Falls but before stuff like Star VS, Amphibia, and Owl House, s2 of WoY felt like a show with one foot stuck in episodic stuff and one foot trying to step into serialization. Because of this, the season’s overarching plot feels incredibly underbaked.

Now… Am I saying that I’d want the show to be like ATLA where every episode had to relate back to either the overarching story or one of the side-arcs? No, absolutely not. We’d be missing out on some of my favorite one-shot episodes if they did that, and if I had to choose between the season we have now and the season we could have gotten had the WoY crew gotten more freedom and were allowed more serialization, I’m going with the former each and every time.

HOWEVER, I still have to acknowledge just how poorly done the structure of this season was when it came to the overarching story. Basically we got four tentpole episodes acting as the season’s beginning, arc shifts and ending. During the season’s second and third arcs, there would be certain episodes afterwards reacting to the change in the show’s status quo.

Now, I get what they were TRYING to do but in my opinion it just really didn’t work as well as it could have. I’ll talk more about this in a bit but the season’s second arc (the “romance” arc) definitely got tiring after a while, meanwhile the third “Stop Dominator” arc felt like it was sort of killing time given that it was mostly just the main 4 trying to find some sort of weapon/figure out some sort of plan that ultimately resulted in some ‘funny’ failures and some quick lessons, with the occasional character piece thrown in here or there.

Now, I didn’t hate these episodes. By this point, it should be evident that one of my favorite elements of WoY are its morals and lessons, so even if the episodes themselves didn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things and were essentially filler, I can at least appreciate a message like “being sad doesn’t mean you’ve given up hope” or “allowing yourself to laugh even in the dark times can help a ton”. So yeah, not completely pointless.

Unfortunately, even with a few bright spots here and there, the overarching plot of s2 still feels underbaked somewhat - and that’s ultimately because of the new character its focused around.

Dominator’s Dilemma

Okay, fess up. Whose idea was it to completely exclude Dominator from the first six episodes of the season (after the s2 premiere)? Because WOW does this decision backfire a lot. I don’t even like Dom that much and I can still acknowledge that she needed much more screen time and focus than she got.

I don’t know if this was to build up the ‘mystery’ surrounding her or because they wanted to get back in the groove of writing the main 4, but this was the crew’s first crucial mistake. Hell, in the first two episodes she plays an active role in, she’s nearly silent in both of them, only having her little fangirl rant in The Greater Hater and a small handful of lines in The Battle Royals. (Which, if I’m being honest, is still a really fun episode for 90% of it, having both great action and absolutely hilarious jokes that still make me laugh, but I get the ending of it making people sour on the episode as a whole.)

Again, it felt like trying to build up this artificial mystery surrounding her when it really wasn’t necessary. Dominator was meant to be a MAIN MEMBER of the cast! Yet I’m pretty sure Emperor Awesome got more significant screen time than her in the end!

Things got a teeny bit better as the show went on, with Dom at the very least getting more lines and more moments to be both badass and totally villainous, but she still felt more like a goal/obstacle than an actual character. I’m not sure if the writers MEANT to do this persay, or if it was just an accident.

Ultimately, it wasn’t until The Night Out when Dom finally got a spotlight episode… which was a little over 3/4ths of the way through the season. You could argue that she also got a bit of characterization in the musical episode, but it was really more emphasizing what we already knew or could infer about her. 

The Night Out, meanwhile, gives us something new - that she’s lonely - and we get a teeny hint of this again in The Robomechabotatron before being told outright in the series finale. Ultimately, it truly does feel like too little too late - especially when her secretly desiring friends just sorta feels like it’s aping off Hater’s secret motivations of wanting to be liked/admired and to have friends/people who love him for who he is.

So yeah, the crew completely dropped the ball on Dom’s characterization, using her as just a goal/threat/obstacle/etc. for nearly all of her appearances. Not only does it make Dom feel like a shallow character, but it also just feels unfair in general. Practically everything we know about Dom is for the sake of other characters.

She’s a test for Wander, an enemy/temporary love interest for Hater, an obstacle for our main four to overcome, and a threat to the characters we already love. Again, there’s nothing wrong with having a character that’s only meant to serve a purpose in the narrative, nor is there anything wrong with a character being shallowly evil… it’s just that the WoY crew hyped her up so much and claimed that she was a fifth main character (implying that she would get about as much development as the main four), so it just felt all the more disappointing when we didn’t get that. Add in her character design - a mix of goth/punk girl energy with Hartman Hips - and it does feel just a tad misogynistic.

There were things I liked about Dom - her cool lava powers and gadgets, her excitable personality, her villain spotlight moments, and her fun vocal performance provided by Noel Wells were all excellent. But unfortunately, these were all surface-level elements, and the crew just didn’t put in enough time to give her much else, essentially saving all her deeper character stuff for the never-made season 3…

A love-hate relationship (leaning towards hate)

Of course you can’t talk about Dom without discussing the season’s second arc, which many see as both a tumor on the plot and the absolute low point of the season. Admittedly when I was watching the season for the first time, I didn’t mind the romance arc all that much. I didn’t care if Dom was getting short-changed, I was too busy laughing at Hater falling all over himself like a dork and thought all the ‘critics’ of the arc were just focusing on the wrong thing and didn’t know how to have fun with a silly cartoon.

Obviously, this was the wrong perspective to have about this sort of thing (I was in the mindset of “I don’t want to accidentally make myself hate this thing I love so I’m going to ignore all criticism of it”. Definitely not the right approach), one that I still apologize for because the critics were totally in the right. From both an objective and a storytelling standpoint, this arc was just the worst - and for several reasons.

Leaning into the overall problem with Dom herself as mentioned previously, this arc was focused solely on Hater and Wander (and to an extent Syl and Peeps as they tried to talk some sense into their respective friends). Whenever Dom was brought in, she either used Hater’s crush to mess with him or just ignored it entirely, being obviously annoyed - and that was the extent of focus that her feelings got.

Outside of those moments, however, Dom’s feelings are relegated to the background, deemed as ‘unimportant’. Sure, in the climax of the arc, she gets this big whole musical number about how she’s “not the damsel” and isn’t interested in Hater’s affections - but again, it’s at the VERY END of the arc and the moment is less about Dom standing up for herself and more about emphasizing just how cruel she can be, as instead of simply rejecting Hater’s advances, she laughs in his face, continuing to mess with him to try and make the rejection as painful as possible before ultimately trying to kill Hater.

But while the arc ends in a showy (and admittedly still kinda fun, thank you Andy Bean and your musical talents) way, the way it starts sorta proves why this idea was so rotten to the core. The ONLY reason why Wander tries to get Hater and Dom together is ONLY because he knows Hater wants a GF and believes that a ‘positive’ thing like love could only ever result in the two villains finding happiness and no longer being evil. Nevermind the fact that Wander is shown only really caring about Hater’s perspective, not once considering Dom’s feelings or even asking if she wants a BF or romantic partner in general.

We get Syl calling him out on this a couple of times, but it’s in that ‘oh that Wander, always with the crazy ideas’ way. You’d think Sylvia, the icon that she is, would be just a bit more blunt and maybe even a bit harsh about how Wander’s treating Dominator - it’s not just a matter of it being a dumb and dangerous plan, but it’s essentially objectifying Dom, treating her like Hater’s missing piece. But hey, it’s fiiiiine, because Wander learns his lesson in the end, right? Except, no not really.

Because even when Wander FINALLY realizes this and feels guilty about causing so much trouble, Syl is more concerned with comforting Wander about it, because he TRIED to do what he thought was right and that “acknowledging you messed up is the first step towards making things right”. Like… yeah I guess but you could have let Wander actually acknowledge what he did was wrong and super messed up, focusing more on the personal aspect of how his whole romance scheme affected Dom AS WELL AS Hater (not JUST Hater) instead of how his scheme broke Hater’s heart and inadvertently made Dom more powerful.

(Also we see Wander shipping and actively pairing up the little Pikmin things in “The Sky Guy” soooooo no I don’t think he fully learned his lesson)

I also have to bring up how there are fans who view Dominator and her whole anti-love thing as aphobic. As someone who only recently figured out she was almost definitely aromantic, I’m certainly not the authority on this, but I can certainly understand the critiques.

What I THINK the WoY Crew was trying to go for was a ‘strong female villain who don’t need no man’, but between Dom constantly being described as ‘heartless’ and Peeps saying that he “doesn’t think she likes anybody” and her cruelty being turned up to 11 whenever someone expressed romantic feelings towards her, it does sorta imply “She can’t love and THAT’S why she’s a villainous monster” rather than simply “she’s a villainous monster”. And because we don’t get any real development or strong characterization with Dom, it’s hard to say where exactly her cruelty comes from, so it’s hard to really argue against these implications without simply inserting headcanons like “Dom is a lesbian”.

Now to be fair, I have seen some aromantics see Dom as good representation - I recall a month or so back when I saw people praising her after she was included in one of those Tumblr polls, with this one being focused on aromantic characters, saying that they liked how she didn’t sugarcoat her rejections and seeing her as this strong, cool, badass villainous who didn’t need romance. So yeah, obviously not every person who shares an identity is going to agree on representation and whether or not it's good, but considering all of Dom’s baggage and the inability to determine whether or not her heartlessness is the cause of her evil or simply a by-product of it, I personally feel like she’s just too messy of an example of a potential aro character.

(Honestly, Syl feels like a better example of an aromantic character to me, given that she and Ryder seemed just as platonic as she and Wander are, as well as her multiple rejections of Awesome and general disinterest/discomfort with romance. Buuut given that those latter examples are specifically with villains and thus it makes sense why she’d reject them regardless of her orientation, it’s still just a vibe/headcanon).

Before I close off this section, I do wanna acknowledge that beyond the potentially aphobic nature of Dominator, WoY’s LGBTQ+ rep isn’t nearly as great as I thought it was once upon a time as a young shipper. Some parts are still pretty okay, like Wander being coded as genderfluid/agender, but overall it still feels more like an old Looney Tunes cartoon than an episode of “The Owl House”, if you get what I’m saying.

In Craig’s defense, the man has never been all too interested in romance in his shows nor has he claimed otherwise - he either uses it as a joke while portraying it as a negative (see Ms.KeenexProf.Utonium, BlooxBerry or, obviously, DomxHater) or it’s a wholesome relationship that ultimately still stays in the background because it’s not all that important (see DracorxDemurra or Ramona and Carlos Flores from “Kid Cosmic”). 

BUT given that there were LGBTQ+ crew members working on the show in s2, such as N.D. Stevenson, as well as LGBTQ+ allies, it is a shame that no proper representation came of that. We got a whole episode where the joke was “oh, Wander and Hater are planning Wander’s execution like it’s a wedding”, an episode where Peeps and Hater essentially break up when Hater fires him, and an “I just can’t quit you” sort of moment from Peeps in the s2 finale when he goes all heart-eyed over Hater deciding to continue being a villain. That’s it, all jokes but nothing substantial. Even the show’s number one lesbian/wlw pairing of SylxDom got a quick Girls Night montage and one sweet moment between them, nothing else.

Again, it’s fine if you’re just looking for jokes, and yeah the WoY Crew never outright promised any romances… buuuut given how much they chose to lean into the Skeleton Dance and DeathGlare stuff while at the same time never outright confirming any of these characters as LGBTQ+ (they didn’t even have to make any ships canon, they just had to say whether or not Wander/Hater/Peeps were gay/bi/pan/etc), I’m not gonna invalidate people who feel just a bit queerbaited about the whole thing.

Bittersweet Goodbyes

As I said before, I was starting college when WoY first premiered. It’s the show that led me to my best friend and it’s the show that helped me through those first two years of college (easily the roughest part of college). It was a show that made me laugh and got me excited, even during the times where I was stressed out or worried. For all its flaws, it was one of the brightest lights in my life at that time.

So, needless to say, when I heard the show was canceled, I was devastated. I remember crying about it that night and even the day after, and I remember joining in as many online strategies as possible to try and get the show back, from letter writing to petition signing. Of course none of that worked, but as a bright side, going through this helped emotionally prepare me for the next time one of my favorite shows was suddenly canceled (looking at you Nickelodeon. Though considering how the RotTMNT movie turned out maaaaybe it was for the best…)

Honestly, for as much as I can look at the show through a critical lens nowadays and point out all the ways it could have been better, I think there will always be a small part of me that wishes we could have gotten some sort of continuation, whether it be through a special, a TV movie or a comic - or hell, I’d even take the plans for s3 leaking at this point. Now, given that the end of WoY brought about the creation of “Kid Cosmic”, I feel like this part has faded a bit, but I’m always gonna want closure on things like Hater’s arc as well as his origins given how much they were teased.

But that in itself is another critique I could give the show. Whether it be Wander facing a different type of threat that wasn’t just another villain, Hater’s transition into becoming a good guy, Peepers getting fed up with his boss and striking out on his own, or Dom’s true characterization that the crew kept insisting was there - the show simply saved a lot of it’s most interesting ideas for a potential Season 3. It was a gamble, and it was one they ultimately lost. It sucks, but it is what it is.

There’s a few more things I could critique about the show, such as its take on the idea of character redemption and Wander becoming a bit of a karma houdini that the show pretty much stopped calling out, and while these critiques are valid I feel like there are other fans who could do a better job talking about those points. But in the end, while season 2 was both a let down in some parts and a bit of a mess in others, I still feel like there were ultimately more good things to be found within the show than bad things.

It’s not a perfect show, far from it. Frankly, I don’t look down on anyone who fell out of love with this show or enjoyed s1 but hated s2. But for what it’s worth, the memories I got from the show are still ones I treasure, and episodes like “The Good Deed”, “The Little Guy”, “The Nice Guy”, “The Epic Quest”, “The Rider”, “The Boy Wander”, “The Black Cube”, “The Hole… Lotta’ Nuthin’” and “The Cartoon” are ones I still love to bits and will probably always love as I watch them over and over.

Disney Channel itself may not care all that much about this show these days save for an occasional rerun or a quick cameo in their Chibi-Verse shorts, but I’m always gonna remember it - for better and for worse. So here’s to 10 years, WoY. I may not always like you, but I still love you.

#wander over yonder #woy #long post #personal thoughts #personal opinions #fair warning this is VERY long hence the read more #wasn't tempted not to post it because of the length #but this show was such an important part of my life #and I wanted to get all my current thoughts out about it

[jamiesfootball]

between you and altschmerzes these project progress word count posts are genuinely frightening- I legitimately feel like I’m getting jump scared when I see one! the fandom is so so lucky to have such talented/skilled creators in it!! congrats on the work so far, happy future writing and please take some roses for when/if you want them!! 🌹💐🥀

Thank! You!!!!!!! This was such a treat to get in my inbox and I have been rereading it all day as i persist through the horrors

AND putting me anywhere near the same category as @altschmerzes is like the highest praise??!? Not just in (very excellent) quality, but have you SEEN that word count? Comparatively speaking my update was the wailing cry of 'but I write stuff too!'

This fandom is truly so talented with so many thriving authors writing so many different things, and I am lucky to have found you all when I did.

Now for a snipped to repay those lovely roses!

"We're at your house. I just need the gate code to get in."

"We're at my h- ...oh. Uh. Right." Tartt stared blankly ahead. He looked a wreck, exhausted and sore and all the other bad words that were to be expected after the fucking day it'd been, but there was something else, something wary, that made Roy's hackles start to rise.

"Everything alright?"

Jamie opened his mouth to answer, then clicked it shut. He hung his head. The truth sat somewhere behind his teeth while he debated whether or not to share with the class. With his grimy socks, he toed at his discarded shoes.

"Could you drop me at a hotel?" he asked, trying and failing for gruff and landing somewhere pleading.

The picture Roy hadn't asked for was filling in anyways.

"Does your dad have your gate code?"

Jamie chewed on his lip and nodded.

Roy sucked the air between his teeth. "Okay. Does he have your door code?"

Another nod.

Roy dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Fuck."

In the seat next to him, Jamie sat with his hands fisted so tightly into the bottom of his jacket that he was at risk of popping stitches. "Sorry."

"No, don't- fuck. It's not your fault."

Jamie let out a disbelieving snort. "It is a bit though, innit? I hit him, didn't I?"

"That was self-defense."

"Doesn't matter." Jamie shook his head. He swiped at his face, and when he pulled his hand away the back of it was wet and shiny. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have provoked him like that."

#ask box is always open #thank you nonnie! #gift fic snippet #roy kent #jamie tartt #post wembley james tartt sr warning I guess? #writing snippet