#and they don’t even remember some of the episodes that have HIT ME SO HARD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates, fluff, smut, denial of feelings

word count: 4.6k

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, dry humping

cherry here!... seeing as we're basically at the end, i will go ahead and say that this series has been based off of Roman Holiday! c'mon now guyssss - enjoy the spiciness ;)

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 4

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

If there was a reasonable explanation of a frog finding a home deep inside your throat, then you would somehow understand because at this moment, it sure felt like it. Charles doesn’t do much apart from blinking at an extremely slow pace. You knew that day that you should have turned the other way, but like always, your curious mannerism won. Here were the consequences and now you had to deal with them. Your lips part, ready to aim meaningless excuses but instead release a shaky breath, finding it hard to make eye contact with his soft orbs.

“How did you find out?”

A stupid question, you knew that, but there wasn’t much to say. It was motifying enough now that you knew, he knew. “You remember how I always beg you to wash your hand every time you finish eating those little chocolates you like?” His lips curl. “You must have forgotten to do so the night before.”

Heat rushes all throughout your body as you come to a halt. His accent emerges with no trace of anger, but rather embarrassment of his own. Shame. Noticing you’ve stopped, he turns back to face you, only a few steps marking a distance between you two. “I don’t know what else to say other than sorry.” A sudden urgency zaps through your veins as you walk closer to him, broken cobblestones rubbing against your shoes. “That was something private and I crossed the line, Charles. Y-you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

A lazy shrug is all you receive from him as he sheepishly smiles though there’s a downcast to the act. “You don’t need to apologize. I should.” His words make you blink with confusion. No you don’t. Green eyes flicker onto the pavement before connecting back to your dreadful ones. “No, I do. I haven’t been honest.”

He visibly gulps, strong Adam’s Apple dancing its way up and down. “I’m sure you know by now. Considering you read it.” Sharp nose twitches, fingers drumming against his thigh. “But I want to hear it from you.”

Further heat rises as you furrow your brows. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. From what you read in between those pages, who am I to you?”

Flashes of his messy handwriting scribble its way into your fuzzy brain. Entries where he would talk about the hydraulics, whatever that meant, to depressive episodes he tries perfecting to keep out of sight. It’s sweet, raw, funny, and you ruined it for him.

“You’re just Charles. A man who enjoys spending his time playing piano, even if he can’t curve his fingers in time to hit the right notes. The one who proceeds to chuck an apple at…” You nibble on your lips, mind digging into the deepest delves as you try to remember. “Joris’ head?”

Pink blush feathers onto his cheeks as he bites his tongue. “You read that?”

A soft giggle erupts. “It was pretty entertaining.” He chuckles, but there is evidence that he was pleased by your answer. You find yourself wanting to continue. “A brunette who likes to tease a city girl when it comes to the amount of sweets she eats.” A lot, he snickers as you bite the air. “Someone who cares enough to take me on walks when I need it to calm down. Even if I don’t know it myself.” A pause. “You’re not some snotty F1 driver who brags out to the rest of the world how rich and famous he is. You’re clumsy, hilarious at an unhealthy amount that makes me think I can form a six pack without ever stepping foot in the gym, and you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

Charles’ heart does an unfamiliar dip as he takes in your breathless state, as if someone’s just saved you from drowning. His feelings lunge towards you as he feels your genuine honestly. You weren’t just telling him what you thought he needed to hear, no, you were spilling it all out as if it were the easiest thing you’ve done in your entire life.

He feels stupid for keeping this from you, thinking you would betray him in some sick and twisted way. That you would think differently - treat him differently - if you knew how many zero’s took place in his net worth. How could he have ever doubted you?

Suddenly your eyes shine a little brighter, as if that were possible. Your lips blossomed into the prettiest shade of pink as you sheepishly smiled back at him. Your aroma quickly becomes his favorite scent in the world and he wishes for nothing more than for you to look at him the exact same way he looked at you.

“I’m really glad we met.”

Your smile widens. “Lo stesso qui.”

The opportunity had presented itself, landed right in the palm of your hand. The universe gave you a chance…and you blew it. Your initial thought was that you, too, would come clean, but as soon as he started moving his lips and opening up to a level you never imagined you would ever reach, you pushed it further into the back of your mind. And now days have passed and it was just weird and awful that you never mentioned it in the first place.

Times like these, you wish you had your cheerful friend to tell you what to do. Dialing her number, you patiently wait for her to pick up. Hello? The taste of home makes your heart warm as you beam. “Amelia, it's me.” A loud pitched scream flies into your ear as you pull your phone away. “I’m aware I’m missable, but there’s not need for you to-”

“I’m engaged!”

Your jaw drops, clumsy fingers navigating to press on FaceTime. The blond answers straight away, stunning diamond already being shown off as you gasp. “You’re fucking shitting me? Amelia Thompson! You’re about to be locked down for life.”

Your friend happily shrugs before hopping up and down. “This is cra- insane. This is insane. Isn’t it insane?” It’s actually very sane if you ask me. You two are meant for one another. Two peas in a pod. Her smile widens as she scrunches her nose in a playful manner. “I mean I just thought this wouldn’t happen for another year or so, but then he took me to that little park we love to go on Sunday’s and then a bird attacked him and th-”

“Back up, a bird attacked Roman?”

“Oh yeah,” she firmly states, red lips pursed as if to refrain from releasing a loud laugh. “It was a whole thing…”

Sitting there and listening to Amelia rant all the while Roman smiles as if he’s never seen a better encounter in his entire life, it suddenly hits you. Pangs your heavy chest. You were happy for the couple, over the moon, but you couldn’t help but mourn the end of an era. It only seems as if a few years ago you two were tugging heavy suitcases into your empty apartment. It would only be so long before she eventually moves out, leaving you alone. And it's not just that, but now you realize how lonely you’ve been these past few years since all you’ve ever done is dedicate your heart and soul into proving to be something you desperately wanted to be.

“Helloooo?”

Snapping out of your self pity, you blink rapidly. “Sorry.” You release a content sigh, swooning as you nuzzle your head into the crook of your elbow as you press your face against the fancy marble. “I’m so happy for you both, really.” But? “But I’m jealous Roman gets to keep my roommate. I was here first.”

Amelia giggles. “You’ll forever be my favorite roomie. Plus, Roman kicks in his sleep so it's only a matter of time before I hit him with the divorce.”

It’s only after you two hang up that you realize you still hold everything inside your chest. Sighing, you make your way out to the terrace, hoping to find some peace and tranquility. Instead you find the Monegasque blaring rock music as he does yoga. 25/50 of what you were looking for.

“Does this actually help you relax?”

Like a cat jumping out of its skin, Charles yelps as he hears your voice. He clutches his chest. “Does that answer your question?” The corners of your lips turn upward. He squinted at you, head pointing towards the house. “Good news?”

“Very. Amelia and Roman are getting married.”

His lips stretch into a sincere smile as he stands up straight. “That’s great.” Nodding, you tug your own mat as you begin to stretch. His stomach flips at the simple act.

“She deserves it. They both do.”

Even as the music blares at an alarming rate that should have you worried for your hearing, you don’t move an inch and neither does he. With slight hesitance, the brunette licks his lips. “And how are you feeling?” You blink, suddenly losing balance as you plant your bare feet. Me? He nods. “You have feelings too, right?”

“I mean, do I really have the right to say anything else other than I’m glad my friends are finally tying the knot?” Floppy curls fling forward as he pretends to nudge your shoulder with it. You bite back a grin before you twirl into a soft frown. “I’m a bit sad.” A small click coming from him is enough for you to continue. “I guess I’m just not used to being alone. Amelia has been with me for as long as I can remember.”

“And she’ll always be there, you know? Only now, she’ll have a different last name and shiny ring.”

You roll your eyes. “What I mean is that it's starting to hit me. How far I’ve fallen behind in the dating category. All those times I’ve been asked out, I pushed them all away because I either had too much work or wanted to spend time with my friends. Now they’re getting married and I’m just kind of…here. I wish I knew what I was turning down.”

The Monegasque lets out a light whistle, fingers snapping as he stares off into the distance. “I would like to pretend that I don’t know what you mean, but I do. Racing is everything to me - it’s what makes me happy - but that won’t always be there. It's a scary thought to have, I know, but that's the way the world works. We need to grow up even after we’ve grown up. It’s a thing that continues for a lifetime and ends with death.”

Your eyes widen with alarm as you gasp at his gloomy perspective. What if you were still wasting time? For sure you still were, but what were you doing with your life? You’re just a broke girl who forms relationships with people you love to spend time with only to use their words for your benefit. A dark chuckle roars from your roommate as he quirks his head. Don’t get too freaked out. “Don’t scare me then.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ll meet someone soon. Someone who will love you as much as you love your piles of junk food.” You aim a sour scowl. He snickers, but continues. “And you’ll realize that all the worrying was for nothing.” The soft sound of waves crashing fills the silence. “But please invite me to the wedding.”

There’s a soft glow to you when you let out a bittersweet smile. “You promise you would go?”

“I thought I made that clear when I said I would go wherever you are.”

Your breath hitches, a gust of wind nearly knocking you down just as efficiently to his meaningful words. Forcing yourself to look away, you press your lips into a fine line, head bobbing in understandment. He shifts. “Teach me a few poses?” you ask, signaling to the mat.

Let me taste your silhouette. You can talk between my legs.

“Oh um,” he stutters, red painting his entire face, briskly reaching to turn the music down. You suppress a giggle as you stare back blankly, lips occasionally wobbling, threatening to let out a teasing smile. “I-I-I don’t usually hear music like this. I m-mean - I do - but…it helps me relax.”

Giving up, your lips stretch, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You get more interesting day by day, Charles Leclerc.”

It’s now Monday and you still haven’t met your word count. It should be easy, you have lots of useful information, but every single time your fingers glaze over the mocking letters, you only think about how terrible of a friend this all makes you. And it’s as if Eleanor knows your lack of work, lengthy emails entering your inbox with daily reminders about your due date. It doesn’t help either that the green eyed boy keeps reminding you about the last two weeks you two have together.

“I’ve just gotten so used to you,” he pronounces as he cuts up fresh peaches. “It’s going to feel wrong not seeing you often.”

Your fingers come to a halt. “Let’s just not think about it. How about a round of Truth or Dare?” You wiggle your brows. “Game?”

“Game.”

“Truth or Dare?” Dare, he eagerly spits out, anticipation evident. “Okay. What does the golden pin actually stand for?”

He scrunches a teasing brow. “You really thought this one through - used your brain. I’m impressed.” You hiss, pen barely missing his head. He cackles nonetheless at your childish behavior. “It’s sort of the same thing as I told you that day. He did say to go retrieve it when I got a Ferrari.”

Now it’s your turn to bunch your neat brows. “But you already own a Ferrari.” A slow smirk paints your lips. “Oh! You want to brag!”

“No,” he scolds. “Would you let me finish?” Relaxing against the pillows, you nod. “When I got a Ferrari championship. Only then could go get this mysterious horse. I think he thought I could do it.”

Your heart twists as you note his wretched smile. “Do you think you can?”

He sighs. “I’m actually not sure. Y’know when I first joined the team, I really thought I could. I mean, everyone around me was telling me how great I was, how my long contract must have meant I was extremely worthy. Now all I get are pity stares. High expectations that have me second guessing everything.” He turns to you. “But then the church was about to be demolished, so I had to go get it regardless.”

Licking your dry lips, you nibble before releasing. “I know you can do it. He might not be here to let you know anymore, but I am. And I know you can.” A beat. “Is that why you gave it to me?”

The brunette winces before tilting his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

In a single movement, you hurriedly crawl over to him as you slap him. Suddenly he’s on high alert as he grabs his cheek in pain. What the fuck? You smile sheepishly. “Don’t you dare say shit like that, Charles Leclerc. You have to believe in yourself the same way you did when you were a kid…I’m keeping the pin.”

His gaze darkens. “Oh, so you don’t believe I’m going to ever get a Championship either?”

“Don’t be stupid. I know you will, but I’ll take care of it for you. That way you have something to work for. I’ll be your temple,” you offer as he quirks a brow.

“My temple?”

You hum. “They’re knocking down the other, so I’ll take over. And I’m just letting you know right now that I’m not giving it up that easily. You have to work really fucking hard.”

Charles’ pulse speeds at your determination and belief, so much so, that a certain kind of pride that had left him long ago returned. He could do this, he could win. He would win. Even if it killed him. An unknown flicker strikes his green eyes as your stomach churns.

“You’re not like the others I’ve met…” He grabs your hand, making you flinch in surprise. “I’m going to do it. For you.”

It’s as if he stole your breath away as you struggle to regain your composure. “...And for him.” His grin never once melts away as he squints a shy eye, lashes fluttering. That was implied, too. You’re the first to pull away as you purse your lips. “Your turn. I pick Dare.”

The Monegasque coughs. “I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t you think you have to work for it? I can’t just give it up like that.” Shaking your head and crossing your arms, you pout.

“Oh, come on! It could be any. Your pick.”

“How generous,” you murmur. “I dented your car.”

He gapes, eyes zigzagging as he forces a smile. “No, you said it was a little boy who kicked a soccer ball.”

You wince. “I was trying to back out of the driveway to go get us some donuts and I wasn’t looking and next thing I knew…” You’re rambling for sure. “It’s not that bad?”

Charles groans. “I told off the first little kid who passed by with a soccer ball, thank you for that.”

You shriek. “Liar! No! What did you say?”

A smirk slithers onto his face. “I’m totally kidding, I knew it was you.”

“But-”

“I heard when it happened - it’s what woke me up in the first place. I stood up to check and saw you driving away.”

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. “You shouldn’t have left the key out like that for me to grab! So if you really think about it, it’s kind of your fault.”

“Of course it is,” he pressed with amusement. “I forgive pretty easily, so I’ll let you off the hook.” Your palms sweat with uneasiness. “Your turn. I pick Truth.”

It’s as if you’ve suddenly become extremely dehydrated as you blink back blankly. “Got a crush on anyone back home?”

“Skip.”

This gets you curious as you arch your brow. The Monegasque goes to extreme lengths to avoid eye contact. “You have to answer, that’s not how the game works. I promise I won’t tease.”

Long fingers drum against his lap as he whips his head, shaggy hair brushing along his face. “Maybe so, but I’m using my free pass.”

You let out a heavy heave. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember I gave you a free pass when we first played Truth or Dare by the shore and I said I would only let you skip if I got one of those in return? Okay, well, I’m using it now.”

“Wha- that’s not fair! That was so long ago, it doesn’t even count.”

He chuckles. “Yes it does.”

With a sour expression, you huff and cross your arms. “Fine. I don’t want to play anymore.”

“You’re choice.”

The remainder of the day was spent with you locked away and Charles on a business call. Now that you knew what he was hiding, it was easier for him to get some work done. Either way, it worked out because before you knew it, you were nearly done. And he was clearly bothered.

“Looks like someone chewed your ear off.”

The Monegasque cringes at the brutal image as he sighs. “Do we have any more ice cream?”

“Nope. Finished it last night.” Analyzing his tense shoulders, you step closer to him as you tilt your head. “It won’t help you get over whatever’s on your mind, though. Want to talk about it?”

He extends his long legs underneath the table, head rolling back as he groans. You shiver, a pool forming in between your legs at the sight. Your body’s reaction feels filthy as you shake your thoughts away. “I was on the phone with my manager. They signed the contract. They actually did it.” He squeezes his eyes in disbelief.

“What contract?”

The brunette finally opened his green orbs, annoyance circling them. “Looks like I’m getting a new partner.”

This comes as a complete shock to you as you make your way to an open chair. “When? Who?”

“Starting 2025. Lewis Hamilton.” Kicking an empty chair away, he grunts. “Oh my God, and here I was thinking I had a chance…” He laughs hysterically. “A chance.”

Seeing him so distraught made your stomach hurt as you shook your head along with him. “I don’t see how this is a bad thing…change is good, no?”

A soft chuckles flies past him as he angles his head to catch your puppy lost state. “First of all, I really enjoyed having Carlos as a teammate. We worked well together. Second of all, compare me - a twenty six year old with five wins in his entire career - to a seven time World Champion.” His shoulders droop. “Who do you think is going to get all the attention and support from the team?”

Your lips part, then snap back shut. He smiles, already shrugging it all off. “It was doomed from the start, I don’t know why I’m so surprised.” Loopy eyes hug your sympathetic ones. “I just don’t want to let you down.”

Frowning hard, you tsk your tongue. “I have a feeling it’s impossible for you to do that. You’ve got this, have a little faith.” Slipping away from your seat, you stand next to his exhausted state, where his body continues to hang like a wet dog. “Will it be easy? No, probably not. But the best things take work. It makes it worth it all at the very end. You’ll see, Charles.”

“How is it that you have so much hope in me?” he whispered meekly, face slightly pale.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you raise your shoulders high. “Because I’m a firm believer that you will accomplish yours and your father’s dream. And I know what you’re feeling, I’ve been on that same boat before, I’m quite familiar.” I sort of still am, you conscious barks back.

For a moment, he lays still, green eyes taking you in, low breaths. Everything about this situation made you feel like a kettle, ready to cry out. There was something so intimate and raw with the way he was looking at you. As if you hung the stars up for him. You’ve never been one to stick around, so it came as no surprise to tear your gaze away, wobbly feet stepping back. “Just don’t-”

His hands are slightly slippery from his palms sweating. His chest is freakishly warm from his blood pumping. And his cock was most definitely hard.

Shifting on top of his lap, you giggle nervously as you try to avoid the lust in his eyes. And the heat in the pit of your stomach. “No, we said…” You furrow your brows. “This is wei-”

“No, you said that. I only played along.”

Inhaling sharply, you shake your head, hair practically whipping his face as he smiles gingerly. “You said the kiss was weird! I said the kiss was weird - we agreed.”

It’s his turn to narrow his eyes at you, large hands gripping your waist, keeping you from running away. “The situation was weird, but I’ve never felt a pair of lips feel so right against mine.” Long fingers trace your bare thigh. “I know you feel it too.”

“Your boner, yes, how could I not?” you hiss, face burning crimson red. “You’re going to ruin it-”

“No I won’t.”

“You’re going to regret it-”

His gaze darkens. “The only thing I’ve regretted so far is not telling you how I feel about you and not having kissed you the way I wanted to.” Green eyes soften up, almost pleading you. “Fuck. I need to - you don’t get it, I need to kiss you, amore. I swear to God if you say no, I might lose my mind.”

Your head begins to spin as you balance your hands on his broad shoulder. Behind your better judgment, you know you shouldn’t. This would only make things worse because you know the moment you lock lips with him and he finds out what you’ve done, how long you’ve lied, he’ll be so disgusted by you completely.

But like always, you push that all aside.

You basically pounce on him as you smash your lips to his. It was hot, it was heavy, you could feel his teeth clash with yours, his tongue sliding inside your warm mouth. He grunts deeply, pushing your hips down on him as you gasp. Arousal drips past your silky legs, already forming a wet patch against his denim jeans. Charles groans loudly at the feeling. Whimpering, you tangle a clumsy hand through his messy hair.

“You’re telling me this is ‘weird’ to you?” he teases against your pouty lips, pants entering your mouth as you whine like a kid at the dentist.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You won’t be saying that in a few minutes.”

Swiftly, he stands up, setting you down on his chair. You’re confused with his actions as you desperately try reaching out for him. He lets out a dark chuckle. Then, he’s kneeling down in front of you, bringing the chair closer to him. Oh God. The sound of the wooden chair squeaking is enough for you to snap out of it and blink rapidly, as if this were all a dream. He grins wickedly.

A beautiful fucking dream.

Shivering at the feeling of his calloused digits, you bring your brows together. He plays with the hem of your dress for a few seconds before sliding it up, cock growing harder at the sight of your red panties. “These dresses have been driving me crazy from the moment I met you.” He presses a sloppy kiss against your clothed center. “So pretty…”

“Charles…”

He cuts you off the moment he slides the thin material to the side, tip of his fingers rubbing your wet lips. Moaning, you instinctively drape your legs over his massive shoulders. With your entire strength, you try bringing his face closer to where you need him. He lets out a loud laugh.

“You really think you can push me down onto you?” He signals like a know-it-all. “Neck strength, baby, neck strength.”

“I don’t care if you’re a racing driver and that’s your entire exercise agenda, do something.”

That’s the only green flag he needs to dive in, sliding his tongue like an animal. Arching your back against the chair, one hand finds a home in his brown lock and the other grips around the armrest. Dizzy with his fast movements, you squeal when he sucks hard against your clit.

“You’re crazy,” you manage to pant before clenching around his digits that have now entered the equation. And he just curls them so deliciously inside on you that you begin to worry you might finish against his handsome face.

Pulling away, he looks up at you through dark lashes, a sly expression evident. “And you’re irresistible, perfect…” He growls when your hole tightens around his fingers, how your juices pour out. He can’t help but lick you clean, sighing against your thigh. “Simply perfect.”

It’s a haze and you barely have room to breathe, much less give him a fair warning, because suddenly your white nectar takes over and hits him all at once. You’re moaning loudly, he’s groaning as he slurps needily. It was just all too much.

And you didn’t deserve any of it.

Your chest rises up and down as you struggle to breath regularly again. It helps when he traces shapes around your legs, hot breaths of his own hugging your humid skin. His eyes take in your state as he looks up at you with complete defeat.

“How am I supposed to stay away from you, ange?”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

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rrxnjun · 9 months

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where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him.

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude.

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all.

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would.

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe.

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…”

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier.

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose.

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one.

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence.

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–”

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now– as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does.

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?”

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help.

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice.

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car.

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack.

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this?

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening.

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place.

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind.

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain.

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different.

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike.

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile.

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest.

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about.

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning.

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now.

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body.

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface.

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft.

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?”

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you.

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more.

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough.

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed?

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him.

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time.

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him.

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again.

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else.

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge.

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression.

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence. “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

1K notes · View notes

halsteadlover · 20 days

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Maybe him and mc are working undercover (but they're married in real life) and a guy tries too hard with her (takes her by the arm and invades her personal space as well as trying to flirt with her with words) and then Jay tells him that and punches him. They could be at a club like that one episode when he and Hailey (and Kevin, maybe? I don't remember exactly) were undercover - unfortunately I don't recall which season it was.

• Warnings: mention of drugs, violence.

• Word count: 1543.

• A/N: I know this is not my best work and I apologize 😭 but I managed to quickly write it so I can post something ❤️ and tell me why I stayed for half an hour staring at the wall to think about a title and I ended up with this one 😭 btw love you all and thank you always for your support

It was no secret Jay sometimes hated undercover missions. Especially if you were involved.

He couldn’t help it. He knew you were an amazing cop, one of the best he ever worked with, capable of defending yourself in any circumstances but since you were also his wife, he couldn’t help but worry about you.

And this case was no different.

You and Jay were undercover due to a drug trafficking case, him as a potential buyer interested in purchasing the drugs, you as his work partner who had set up the connection with Joshua Ryder, the criminal suspected of being the gang’s leader.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind, not being able to stay still and acting like nothing was happening.

You were both in a club, sitting in a VIP room while you talked with Ryder and convince him to make a deal with you. The rest of the team were instead in some fake company’s vans listening to your conversations in real time.

However, things started to go wrong when Jay noticed one of the traffickers approaching you in a way he didn’t like at all.

“Are you here to do business or watch her like a hawk?” the gang leader had insisted for the umpteenth time while for the umpteenth time Jay directed his gaze towards you who continued to giggle with fake enthusiasm with one of Ryder’s henchmen.

You were uncomfortable, as with any mission that involved getting close to another man other than your husband. You knew it was your job, that you had a duty to fulfill and your private life had to stay out of it but sometimes it wasn’t that easy.

“You sure you don’t want anything to drink, sugar?” Asked the man who insistently continued to hit on you. You didn’t even know his name – or care to know – but you smiled anyway with fake naivety, slightly shaking your head.

You quickly glanced at Jay who was sitting in front of you, noticing he was busy talking to Ryder, but his gaze met yours for a moment. It was brief but in that simple look you understood he too had noticed that guy’s insistence. Jay had his arms crossed over his chest, breathing heavy, his jaw clenched as he saw how this man insisted on getting closer to you.

He was disgusting, he smelled of alcohol from miles away, and you had to repress the urge to vomit and the instinct to punch his ugly face.

The man approached further, sliding on the sofa towards you and you moved back, trying to create further distance but without making it obvious and making him suspicious.

“You know, my boss is quite jealous of his employees, you shouldn’t be so close to me,” you falsely giggled but he didn’t seem to get the hint, in fact, it seemed to amuse him even more.

“We’re all one big family here darling, what’s mine is someone else’s and what’s someone else’s is mine…” He rested an arm on the back of the sofa behind your shoulders and although he hadn’t even touched you, you felt your skin crawl and the urgent need to throw yourself into an acid bath. “If you want to do business with us your boss will have to learn how to share… Especially with such a beautiful and gracious girl like you.”

The desire to kick him in the balls was intense and you wondered what kind of woman would really fall for these words.

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind.

He was trying.

He was really trying but it was so fucking hard to stay still and not react when that son of a bitch was being a creep with his wife. Ryder was talking to him about something he didn’t even care about, but he couldn’t pay attention and process a single word, too focused on you.

He couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then, running a hand on his jaw in frustration and starting to fidget on the spot as he saw the man getting closer and closer to you and invading your personal space, like touching your hair or caress your shoulder.

It wasn’t jealousy, he could never be jealous of a filthy man like him but he deeply hated not being able to do anything to keep you safe without ruining the whole mission. He hated seeing you so tense and uncomfortable although from the way your hands were balled into fists in your lap, he knew you too were itching to punch him.

He hated having to pretend you were simply his work partner and not his wife.

But he swore he saw red when that man’s clammy hand rested on your face and your eyes widened at the contact as your entire body froze in place.

Fuck the mission and these motherfuckers too.

Jay lost control.

That slimy hand on you had driven him crazy and before he knew it, he had stood up and grabbed the man’s hand with his, punching him in the face with all the strength in his body. He didn’t catch the gasp that escaped you and he didn’t even care he had just ruined any chance of doing ‘business’ with Ryder along with the possibility of framing him. While his fist hit that bastard again and again, all he could do was think of those hands on you.

“That’s my fucking wife you motherfucker!” Jay screamed in his face, holding him by the collar of his shirt as the man spat out blood, struggling to keep up with the fury of the undercover detective. “Let me catch you again putting a hand on her or even just looking her way, I’ll enjoy breaking your fingers one by one before throwing you in jail.”

Everything was now chaos.

The team, who in the meantime had witnessed everything through your hidden cameras, burst in when they realized the situation had now worsened to the point of no return. You tried to pull Jay away from the man, but it was totally useless, not when he was so furious that your strength was no match for his.

Ryder was fuming when he realized you were cops and you had tried to frame him, swearing he’d make you pay dearly while Kevin handcuffed him along with the rest of his goons.

“Baby,” you called back but Jay didn’t look at you right away. You stood outside the club under Voight’s orders, a hand on his bicep and caressing him as you tried to get his attention. You were alone in a little corner, waiting for your boss for his inevitable fury.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice low but finally focusing his gaze on you.

You let out a laugh trying to diffuse the tension, you hated seeing him so furious. “You are ask me if I’m okay? I’m not the one who just punched a guy.”

He sighed, tearing his eyes away from you as he ran his hands over his face with frustration. Your heart clenched at the sight of his red and bruised knuckles. “I wish I had killed him to be honest.”

“Jay I don’t want you to get hurt because of me,” you replied, taking his hands in yours and leaving a kiss on the back of them, smiling when you saw his hard features start to soften at the gesture. “I could’ve handled him, I wouldn’t have let him go any further.”

“I know you could baby, you’re amazing,” he softy spoke, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He took a step towards you, closing the distance enough you had to slightly lift your head up to look into his eyes. “But there’s no way on earth that I would have sat there and watched while that son of a bitch put his hands on you.”

He cupped your face with his hands, his thumbs caressing your heated cheeks. “No one gets to put a hand on you, much less against your will. You’re my wife, I’m the only bastard who can touch you and I will gladly kill anyone who dares to do it instead of me, am I clear?”

You let out a breath, almost on the verge of passing out right there and now in his arms. “God baby I want to suck your dick so bad right now. I love when you get so protective of me, it’s so hot.”

Jay burst out laughing, his stomach clenching in anticipation knowing you would stand by your words. He pulled you into a hug and you rested your head on his chest as you wrapped your arms around him. “I’ll always keep you safe, I won’t let anyone touch a single hair of your head, I hope you know it. God knows I would set the city on fire to protect you.”

“I know baby, I love you so damn much it’s insane,” you deeply inhaled the smell of his cologne, leaving a kiss on his shirt coated chest. “But I hope it’s worth it because Voight is coming and I think he’s ready to take us both out,” you continued when you broke away from the hug and saw your boss coming up behind Jay, a furious look on his face.

“Oh yeah, it’ll always be worth it, especially for the amazing blowjob you’ll give me later.”

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ay0nha · 1 year

Text

Lament of My Heart | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: “Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Set pre-episode four & post-episode five w/ moments of pre-outbreak

PAIRING: Joel Miller x femme!reader

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

WARNINGS: SMUT (hand job), mentions of blood, mutual pining/slow burnish, skinny dipping (of sorts), canon-typical things, mentions of Tommy x reader, etc.

A/N: Need to post this before it sits in the drafts to collect dust. Joel is just on my mind all the time, so this is the product of that. Thank you as always @from-the-clouds for listening to my blabbering and entertaining all my ideas! Much love.

“No more questions, Ellie,” You reprimanded her lightly, trying to cover the warmth she was discovering you felt. “Get some rest.”

Ellie was a hard-headed person with the responsibility of society on her shoulders. She carried the weight well, but she was still human, still young. But her questions revealed her growing creativity and sharp wit.

“Not tired.” She hated Joel’s coffee, but the stolen sips still coursed through her veins. You knew it was partly due to the anxiety ahead of them. They all felt it, that tense air of the unknown. “You two don’t seem to get along, though.”

Your eyes flashed to the rear view mirror on instinct. Settled on the truck’s dirty cushions and the supplies being used as a pillow, Joel was asleep. But you weren’t sure how long it would last.

“Ellie-

“It wasn’t a question!” She defended quickly, toying with the edge of her sleeve. She’d been dying to know just exactly why you got under Joel’s skin the way you did. “Tell me about Tommy, at least.”

“Ask Joel.” Your eyes were everywhere. You checked the mirror as if there was traffic, but it was the only thing that kept you occupied. She was making you squirm.

“C’mon, you know he won’t-” Ellie’s own frustrations were building up. In her shoes, you’d be just as curious. “Please.”

Through a thoughtful sigh, you resigned, “Before-We just- We’ve known each other for a long time.” You’d been intertwined with the Miller brothers since before everything. You rarely said it aloud, and now, you struggled to put all the history into something coherent. “I met Tommy when he returned from deployment-

“In Texas?” Ellie hung onto every word, mind spinning tales faster than you could keep up with. “Were you in the military too?”

“I said no questions.”

The comment made her smile. Ellie always appreciated a good game. Loopholes were her specialty.

“Fine, then.” She settled in the passenger seat, knees to her chest as she faced you, “You were discharged with Tommy with more medals than you could count!” Her posture then changed with inventive excitement, “Or maybe a bad-ass sniper with too many confirmed kills to count.” You wished your life was as exciting as she made it sound. “You’re going to have to stop me before I start thinking you led an elite hit squad.”

“Close.” You quipped, “I worked on the military base in town.” It was the first job that hired you and offered some stability for someone your age. “I’d help get soldiers back on their feet once they returned…”

“Then you became friends with Tommy,” Ellie encouraged you to continue. She couldn’t stand the lulls.

Too many years passed for you to remember clearly how you became close to Tommy, but at the time, he considered you his soulmate. Not that either of you really knew what that meant.

“Then I became friends with Tommy.” You nodded. You kept your eyes steady ahead, adding, “Joel, too.” Glancing at Ellie, you finished, “Then we all just…stuck together.”

Separation wasn’t ever questioned, even on the eve of all the destruction. That memory was vivid; the way your bloodied body held onto Joel, dragging him away from it all, Tommy trailing behind, surveilling every move. It was how you moved together for years, protecting each other as much as possible.

“He doesn’t talk about it; before,” Ellie commented lowly. You knew she wished for more from Joel. But she couldn’t see what you saw in the way he softened for her.

“That hasn’t changed with time.” Your words felt too bitter. This time you indulged in a glance at Joel. Still settled. “I’m surprised he’s even talking to me now.”

You always described the Miller brothers as a whirlwind. They may not have necessarily meant it, but they had a knack for sweeping you up and consuming you. When Joel came to you with Ellie, there was no question of whether you would help or not, just when and where you were needed.

He’d never leave without you.

“Tell me something about them...” Ellie pleaded. She was a clever girl who picked up on the weight of his misery. But it wasn’t yours to share. “Before they…before this.”

Your shoulders relaxed while your hands moved to the bottom of the steering wheel as you allowed yourself to filter through only the fond memories.

“Alright, well…” You hesitated with your words. Only because you knew, Joel would tell the story differently. “He and Tommy were wasted…I mean…Absolutely hammered that night.”

Your words had their desired effect, and Ellie’s giggles encouraged you to continue. But it felt strange to make Joel’s drinking habits sound so lighthearted when you know how the habit haunted him now.

“Tommy called me.” The phone in Joel’s kitchen woke you up that night well past the witching hour. “The brothers always got into all kinds of mischief, usually Tommy's fault.” You were typically by his side, provoking him. “Always Tommy’s fault.”

“He sounds fun.” Ellie joined in. You knew in another world, the two would get up to all kinds of mischief if they had the chance.

“He can be, when he wants.” You glanced at the map on your lap. With the sun getting low, it meant you needed to find a safe place to stop soon. “That night, though, the two of them had the bright idea to pretend to be bouncers, only to get into a fight with the actual ones.”

“I knew Joel wasn’t a total hard-ass.”

As you continued to retell the story, you hadn’t realized how much nostalgia you carried with you. Nor were you able to see how you talked so warmly of Joel. Ellie knew exactly what to say to get the information she wanted. But you waited a long time to reminisce freely.

“...When I finally got them home,” You blew a raspberry at the unforgettable effort it took. The stench of alcohol and smoke still made your nose scrunch. “Thank god Tommy had enough sense left to make it to the couch.”

Ellie loved how you teased Joel’s hiccuping that he blamed it on being over-served tequila. It was hard even to imagine he had any of that humor left in him. You embellished the story just enough to entertain yourself. But the story's core provided fertile ground for understanding that nothing you added was too far-fetched.

“They remembered nothing the next morning,” You said. “Tommy found all these numbers written on his arm, said he’d close his eyes and pick which to call.”

“....And Joel, he must have been so hungover…”

“You’d think…” You reflected flatly. “He just got up and went to work.”

From your side, you knew Ellie could sense you holding back. She’d gotten more than she asked for, so she left it. She could see how the echo of that night still felt fresh, doubting you provided her with the detailed ending you lived.

----

“You alright?” The question was slowly processed by Joel, who was trying to steady his breathing before the contents of his stomach came up.

“Yeah, yeah…” Joel held onto you every step, arm slung over your shoulders, making you sway with him with each step to his room.

He was mumbling while you settled him on the edge of his bed. You got every few words while focusing on preparing him for the next day. The brothers had work, and doing this would save you the headache of hearing their complaints.

“B-been thinkin’...” His Texan drawl was heightened as he slurred.

“That so?” You half-heartedly replied, rummaging through his medicine cabinet. You looked for something for the morning.

“Mhmm…”

You could hear him shuffling around in his room. Assuming he’d been pulling his boots off and discarding his jacket, you were surprised to find him leaning on the bathroom’s door frame.

“Then you’ve been hanging around Tommy too much.”

“Tommy…” Joel let out a breath of frustrated laughter. He disappointingly shook his head, leaning over you, “That boy doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

You still held love for Tommy, but you had mistaken it for something that it wasn’t. The two of you functioned better as friends; you were his confidant and partner in crime. Neither of you would change that for the world.

“And you do?”

Your relationship with Joel had a natural ebb and flow that could be but never got to the point of being volatile. But that didn't stop you from stepping on each other's toes, constantly being on the brink of an argument that neither of you knew the point of.

“Darlin’...” You melted his resolve, helping him the way you were. Joel’s eyes flickered down. Nothing about your outfit was seductive, but the way his eyes loitered told you maybe it had been. Covering his tracks seamlessly, Joel continued, “...The things you deserve.”

Your laugh bounced off the bathroom walls, resonating deep within Joel’s chest.

"What?" Joel asked lightly, his smile starting to mirror yours, but not understanding why, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

“Shit, Joel,” Your laughter lingered, “You must be really drunk.”

“C’mon now.” He tried to stop you. He wasn’t sure he could handle any level of ridicule from you.

But you pushed passed him, drawing his sheets back for the night to be over, “Let’s just get you to bed.”

He stumbled to you willingly, but you could see his mind turning. There was something he wanted off his chest, but you knew you weren’t ready to hear it.

“Come on now, Miller,” You tried again. “We’ve both got work in the morning.”

“What is it you do again?” Joel’s words played with chords of tension. “Besides eat all my food and sleep on my couch.”

"Get by." You joked more for your sake than his.

Joel’s eyes shifted between your own, pupils entirely dilated. Blaming it on the alcohol helped settle your stomach.

“I know y-you don’t stick around for my benefit.”

"God forbid we enjoy each other's company, Joel." Your eyes burned into his. You enjoyed your ability to make him bashful in his stupor. Just a look, and he was crumbling.

You saw it coming. You could have stopped it, but it wasn’t even the length of a decent kiss. It was soft and fleeting because you pulled back to never speak of it again. You doubted Joel remembered, but you could never be sure what he’d admit to.

----

“Did you ever-

“Ellie…” You said her name slowly in warning.

She retracted fast, “Joel and you-

“No.”

Your answer came off harshly. You knew where she wanted to go; she’d circled the topic for hours.

“Can I ask one question?”

“That was a question.” You looked at her again pointedly, “Shoot.”

“Why’d you stay in Boston?”

Sitting with the statement, you focused on the road. Most around you was barren and destroyed but offered an unconventional peacefulness. Sometimes you imagined if you’d be better off in isolation than in a QZ. But you could never bring yourself to just disappear like that.

“As hard as you might try,” You started, pulling the car to the side, “You can’t be alone in this world. With a purpose or not, it just doesn’t work.”

The sudden sway of the car disturbed the sleeping figure in the back. Joel attempted to hide his jolt as he sat up but was already looking out the window for trouble.

“We stoppin’?” Joel’s voice filled the car while the engine cooled.

Joel looked to you for reassurance. Ellie pointed that out to you, the way he valued you despite his resentment.

“We’ve gotten far enough today.” You tossed the keys back to him. “We need food and rest.”

“Alright.”

Your exchanges were clipped.

Yet, you valued the journey with Ellie. Selfishly, the task provided a reason to see Joel again. It had become easier to spend time apart. It became a habit. But even with a quiet meal shared and conversations led by Ellie, it felt good to be with him again.

The pressure shifted. No longer were ration cards on your mind, nor were the curfews you struggled to follow. Something about the night felt freeing despite the heavy responsibility that it meant. Maybe it was the privilege of feeling safe with Joel since he created a protective bubble, sacrificing his rest for yours.

You heard Joel get up when he thought yours and Ellie’s breathing steadied. You were going to leave it, but sleep was hard to come by with your mind racing.

Joel saw your shadow first. But the hand that brushed between his shoulder blades still made him flinch. He spoke in hushed tones, looking to ensure that Ellie was still asleep, “I hope you didn’t come over here to tell me we’re safe.”

“Didn’t say that.” You frowned. He knew you well; you wore your concerns on your face. You just wished he didn’t hold such defiance for them. “But we’ll be alright for the night-

“Don’t.”

Joel wanted to be in control of everything down to the smallest detail.

You knew it was a way of coping, his way, but it never sat right with you. Especially now, as you watched Joel scrutinize the area you chose, you could feel the criticism he was holding back from the moment you parked the car.

Did you even survey the terrain?

Too much open space. No clear route out.

You know better than this.

“We’re the perfect targets.”

“Joel-

“We know how this works,” He voiced over you. Even with you there, his surveillance didn’t change as he remained on a swivel. “It was exactly what we did.”

Joel’s emotions were catching up, but he still held onto a forced restraint. He was expecting resistance, an argument from you. But you heard what he said, how Ellie needed to hear it, to believe him.

No one’s gonna find us.

It was a promise. Something Joel was determined to control.

The wind was picking up the later the night became, and any rustle was faced with a gun barrel. It caused chills to litter your arms out of apprehension. You tried to comfort yourself with your arms tucked to your chest, but it only shifted Joel’s attention.

If you tried hard enough, you could guess what he would say to you. We need to stay sharp. You could feel Joel’s hesitation, though. It happened every time he pushed you away.

There was merit to your diversion, but Joel only allowed it for so long.

“Get some rest.” He nodded toward his forgotten sleeping bag, “No good if both of us are tired.”

----

The car was gone. The brief companions too. Your heart felt permanently caught in your throat. Adrenaline replaced everything. But it was wearing you thin.

“Where are you going?” Respite clung to Joel’s question as his eyes followed your figure up from his crouched position.

Like a cat, you stretched until something deep within your spine popped. You moved towards the shore of the small body of water you all settled by.

Time was at the forefront of Joel’s mind. Time was no longer on your side, meaning the sooner, the better pressured every minute. Daylight became the most valuable thing. And by the looks of it, you were on your way to wasting it.

“We smell, Joel.” You state as you discard the knife strapped around your waist. You were meant to be cleaning them in the water, preparing them for the next fight the way he had.

But your body was sore. You could imagine the pain Joel felt was much worse, physical or not. He put his body first rather than having you or Ellie be the brunt of it all.

Mornings were sacred to you. It was when the birds sang at dawn because the crisp, moist air carried their songs and their meanings farther through the same air that filled your lungs in fluid refreshment.

You pulled your shirt over your head and looped your thumbs in the waistband of your pants as you wiggled them over your thighs and down your legs.

For the moment, Joel’s eyes lingered. He looked for bites. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, but he had to be sure. Instead, Joel found deep hues of bruises still healing from Kansas City.

Almost wholly above the horizon, the sun highlighted the mist rising off the body of water. It veiled your body the closer you were to where the water and the rocks met. Yet, Joel watched on until your arms maneuvered behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra.

As if the sun was directly in his eyes, Joel looked up, avoiding seeing something that wasn’t meant for him. Except, it didn’t stop him from passing along a warning, “Don’t go out far.”

The dirt from the past days felt like a second layer of skin had embedded into your own, suffocating you. You finally waded into the freezing water to rid yourself of it.

But not before throwing a comment over your shoulder, “Join me, then.”

Your words were like an idle threat that was only met with silence. You knew he was contemplating the offer. Always thinking.

The water was cold, goosebumps littering your skin within minutes and creating peaks where Joel refused to look. He scolded himself for the way his cock twitched at just the idea.

You leaned back so you were nearly floating on your back. Above, a bird glided hypnotically in a wide circle. It seemed you weren’t the only one seeking to rid yourself of a sense of weariness. The cool water swallowed you whole, caressing your skin and relaxing your muscles.

“Someone’s gotta stay with Ellie.” Joel voiced his decision. It was an excuse, what he was supposed to say.

There was no point in fighting it. Instead, you submerged yourself completely; the water consumed you. The longer you stayed under, the closer Joel edged to the water, ensuring you’d come up for a breath.

When you finally reemerged, you held a wicked grin.

“Don’t do that.” Joel frowned at your teasing. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding your eye. The rocks seemed more fascinating than how you became more siren-like by the minute. “I’m gonna find Ellie.”

“She deserves some privacy.” Despite her continuous puns, you were receptive to the fact that she was still impacted.

You all were.

Hyper vigilance became the enemy that threatened to consume Joel whole. Sleep was no longer negotiable. Every movement dragged worry, invited agitation, and controlled his violence. Joel’s chest was tight, and breathing felt hard to come by. He was moments away from unraveling.

“...There won’t be another invitation, Joel.”

Joel’s loaded gaze burned right through you as he took off his clothes. While he was busy shrugging out of his shirt, you took the opportunity to tread out further. Your back was to him, but you heard the swishing of disturbed water.

You reveled in the way your skin burned for him. He’d seen you naked years ago. But not like this, never like this.

----

Joel’s eyes followed the curve of your body. Your chest swayed as you moved around freely. His pounding heart clocked how too much time had passed for him to sneak out. He was frozen.

“You’re not Tommy.” You let out a breath of relief despite your surprise.

The lace rode high on your hips, accentuating your natural curve. Your chest was perked at the sudden attention of being caught so bare. Regardless of the incessant ringing in your ears, you stayed stone still, giving him a chance to say something.

Yet, he shook his head, backing out the door he’d come through, mumbling expected apologies. Joel used the key under the fern and let himself in.

For days he’d been asking Tommy for his tools back. And now, they were forgotten with each hurried step.

You threw on the closest shirt, chasing after him. “Wait!”

“I didn’t mean to-

“Joel, let me explain-

“No, I shouldn’t have-I-I’ll just-”

You found a way to stand before him, blocking his escape route perfectly. “Let’s just slow down…” Your hands were up in defense, mirroring his own. “It’s not what you think.”

Of all people, you wanted Joel to hear you. But the silence was heavy and lacked a proper explanation. You could see the flush that took over his coloring. It was sweet in a way, but you were too mortified to know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly taught how to handle these sorts of things in school, so you stalled.

“Can I make you some coffee?” An invitation to linger.

Joel looked at you and saw your bare feet moving toward him with hope. He hadn’t meant to, but his eyes scanned your bare legs; the picture of the intricate fabric underneath the oversized shirt made his skin prick. It took him a moment to realize the shirt was his, one Tommy most likely nicked under his nose.

Doubting you knew what that did to him, Joel shook his head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“One cup.” You promised.

The air was tense when you made it to the kitchen. You insisted on a fresh pot, but the drops felt like they took ages to fill it enough for its purpose. The hem of the shirt skirted the boundary of indecency, but you thought nothing of it. Your focus was on the longing stare Joel was giving you.

“Tommy and I…” You started with a shaky breath. You were sure Joel knew all about the drifting relationship. “I thought maybe this would…” It felt strange explaining yourself the way you had. But you wanted it to be known that even to you, it felt out of character. “He doesn’t look at me the same anymore…”

Your words feigned a sense of yearning. But neither you nor Tommy could keep up the act. Your words seemed heavy, but it was so alleviating to say aloud. To be listened to.

But the smell of coffee pulled you back, reminding you to be a good host. Filling the mugs just below the brim, you broke the small barrier of the kitchen island. You held the mug close to your chest, the warmth working as emotional support while Joel toyed with the ceramic handle.

You lifted the mug to your lips, blowing lightly over the piping-hot coffee, “...But neither do I.”

“I can talk to Tommy if you…” No matter how much it made Joel regret the offer, Joel said the right thing. He couldn’t meddle where he didn’t belong. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

You laughed into your mug. “I’d rather this stay our thing.”

“You say that like this is going to happen again.”

“Joel Miller.” You said his name after a pause. He looked like a child in trouble. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, no, I-

“Joking.” You cut in just as awkwardly as he flushed.

You wanted the mood to lighten, needed it to.

But there was clumsiness in every movement, between your ongoing jitteriness and Joel’s restless fidgeting. So, you moved to the window. On the sill held your half-empty carton of cigarettes, the ones you were trying hard not to touch these days.

With a soft glance back to Joel, you asked, “Mind if I?”

Joel could spot the influences of Tommy in you. Or maybe you had passed along your habits. Either way, it was your home of sorts. Who was he to tell you no?

You had such dexterity with the process. It was like a ritual how you rolled the cigarette over your lips before lighting it. Then after a deep exhale, you utilized the perpetually open window to tap the beginnings of ash.

“I don’t mean to drag you into all of this…” You trailed off through an exhale of smoke through your nose. Joel could see the appeal now. “I just don’t-…Tommy’s my friend, and if I…I don’t know what’ll happen if we’re not…”

The end of something always hurt everyone around you. You all were just playing your roles in delaying the inescapable. But the questions of the future haunted you. You weren’t sure if you were ready to let it all go.

“I’ll let you leave…” You toyed with the lit cigarette that was on its last limb as you spoke. Joel’s silence was becoming deafening. “Promise I won’t hold you up any longer.”

You were sure he had more pressing matters than to comfort you through an inevitable breakup.

“Tommy’ll get over it.” Joel sat back with more relaxation now that he spoke his mind. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

----

Joel kept his distance deliberately. He made the venture into the water seem like another task. In and out.

“I don’t bite, you know.”

He knew you wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for too long. He knew what it meant to join you, but he made an effort to seem detached.

“Just giving you some privacy.” Joel echoed your words.

“Right.” Your frustration was clear. You carried it with you for the handful of days that passed. Your frustrations didn’t lie with him like Joel chose to believe.

Instead, guilt filled Joel’s chest. It had been gnawing at him since he left Boston. He should have left you there if he were as reliable as everyone claimed he was. You’d be without bruises. You’d be without his burden. Leaving without you meant there would be no return.

But you knew Joel. You had to remind yourself. You knew what he was thinking, what he wanted. That’s how you knew moving towards him would benefit the both of you.

You moved gradually, leading the interaction by brushing his hair behind his ears. The greys of his hair darkened with the water you carried on your fingertips. He looked younger. He looked like your Joel.

You reached for him, pulling him through the cool water to you. Joel was stiff when your chest met his warmly. He thought of pulling away, but you felt so peaceful that it swallowed him. Your arms wrapped around him with comfort. Your body settled in front of his, gently pressing your hips against him, giving him only an ounce of pressure to entice him.

He noted every twitch. Shyness wasn’t questioned; that barrier was broken years ago. It enabled you to trace his face. Every detail was already committed to memory.

You imagined what he’d say to you all those years ago—anything to make a smile crack.

Careful, now.

All you’re gonna find is a whole lot of ugly.

The scar above his eyebrow marked when your feelings for Joel first latched on. You were blinded by anger then, but the blood scared you. He promised you it was a graze and that he still had his life. But that wasn’t enough proof for you.

When your thumb traced over the faint line, Joel finally found his voice again, “Your shooting’s still sloppy.”

The look Joel held was intimidating, scrutinizing, but you knew he was trying to be witty.

“See now, when you say things like that…” You whispered softly due to the proximity, “I don’t regret shooting you.”

He hummed, appreciating your touch that ventured to his shoulders. You could feel under your hands the tension he held. You wanted nothing more than to provide relief.

“Joel.”

Just his name made your desire clear. He wanted to touch you all those years ago, but he’d never betray his brother like that. But now you invited him to you without any barriers. There was hesitancy in the hold Joel found on your hips. His mind wandered; wavered between the need and the want.

Starting at the swirl of hair on his chest, you followed the trail down until Joel’s breath hitched. Joel felt like he was about to lose it when your hand wrapped around him.

“This feel okay?” You moved your hand against him, slow and soft.

Water dripped from his nose to your shoulder as he nodded eagerly. His groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against your own. You tread in dangerous territory but recognized the privilege of his trust.

This was for Joel. You needed this just as much as he did. You didn’t worry if it functioned as a thank you for keeping you alive, an apology for the trouble you’d caused him, or a confession of your own.

It didn’t matter when you indulged in your own lust.

“Do you think of me when you’re on your own?” You asked, fingers wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him until you felt his pulse in your grip.

“Oh- Fuck-” He cut himself off before he let a pet name slip. Joel’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, imprinting his touch into your skin, burned to your very bone.

“Hmm?” You edged him further. Gently, you continued to pump him and move your thumb over his tip.

Joel’s ragged breath fell on your pulse point with each moan as you continued to pump him rhythmically. His hand came up to your throat in a tender hold. His lips hover over yours but refrained from connecting.

It would be too intimate if you had.

“Do you want me to?” The hold gave him dominance even as he shuddered under your touch. Always desiring control.

The water around you rippled with your continued movements. With his free hand, his thumb rubbed gently at the sensitive skin that was near the pebbles of your breast, but he made no effort to touch it just yet. His words and touch were a deadly combination, the kind that made you ache.

“Would that be so bad?” You spoke on his lips, feeling the tickle of his mustache. The more you worked on his release the more you felt his warm pants turn into deep moans. “Come on now, Miller,” You coaxed softly, moving up and down his length with a lively pattern, teasingly and tauntingly. “Tell me.”

Joel’s words were caught in his throat as ecstasy flowed through his veins as the pleasure crashed. His hips jerked against you as his breathing became ragged and his moans became filthy.

He sighed with relief, abandoning himself. He groaned into you, nuzzling his nose in your neck as the aftershocks made him tremble. He could feel your hand threading in his hair, keeping him in your tight embrace.

“Yes.”

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blooming-violets · 6 days

Note

Nicest Thing Peter x Reader for 11. In joy? I really like that fic. I reblogged it on my old account. I feel like thats an underrated fic of yours (maybe bc it came out in 2022? Idk). Would love to see what happened to them!

It's still one my favs because it is just so...me?? Like if I had to chose anything that represented my personality perfectly, it would be Nicest Thing. Just a depressed, sad bitch who loves angst and Peter Parker and enjoys Kate Nash. I feel like I need another Kate Nash song for this "sequel" fic. I'll base it off her song Trash because these two are trash for each other.

You can read this as a separate, on its own Peter x Reader thing if you'd like or you can read it as a future piece to Nicest Thing.

Warnings: Smoking a joint and getting stoned

If porn bots can over take all the tags then I better not get flagged for these gifs.

Peter looked at her through blazed out, squinting eyes. A haze of smoke filled their bathroom as they passed the joint back and forth between them. They were seated in the unfilled tub, fully clothed, and facing each other. She had made him take the spot next to the faucet under the claims that sitting over the drain made her feel “icky” like she might get sucked in. He didn’t mind. Even if their leaky faucet kept dripping cold water over his shoulder.

“Do you remember the Rugrats episode when Tommy and Chuckie are afraid of getting sucked down the bathtub drain because Angelica tells them a story of some other baby who died that way?” He asked, handing her off the joint.

She placed it between her lips and he watched with a slow blinking, admiration for her. He loved her. She had been with him through everything. He owed his entire life to her. Without her in his life, he would no longer be here. She was everything important in the world.

She smiled, remembering, and let out the most beautiful laugh. She always got extra giggly when they smoked. It was one of his favorite sounds.

“Don’t they fill the drain with play-doh and shit? It’s a weird reddish, pink color. Why do I remember that specific color so much?” She replied, mystified.

Peter chuckled, “Because old school Rugrats was filled with some crazy ass imagery. It sticks in your mind.”

“Yeah but I remember thinking that I specifically wanted to eat that color...like maybe it would taste nice…like the imaginary food from Hook.” She passed it back to him, letting the smoke exhale in a little, circular puffs from between her lips.

“Do you want to get into a pretend food fight with me and see if anything appears?” He grinned.

Her red rimmed eyes squinted back at him as she laughed, “With the way these munchies have been hitting me the past few minutes, I think it might actually happen. I could imagine food hard enough to make it show up.”

His mind started to wander as a hungry smile spread across his face, imagining all the food he could eat, and he spoke with a dreamy whisper, “Pizza bagels.”

“What?”

“Let’s make pizza bagels. ‘M hungry. Starvin’. Gonna die if I don’t get some food in me.”

Her eyes glowed with excitement at the idea, “Pizza bagels. Yes, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” he giggled, it bubbled out of him without any self control. It wasn’t the weed that did it. It was her. He felt free when he was with her. He flicked out the joint against the ashtray balancing on the edge of the tub. “I really am. Smartest man alive, probably.”

She snorted, “Okay, I wouldn’t go that far. Get your ego in check, Parker, before I have to slap some sense back into you.”

He beamed at her, his love consumed him, feeling it outshine every other emotion rattling around inside of him. She was beautiful. Stunning. Picture perfect. He wanted to hang her up on his wall like an expensive piece of art so he could admire every day of his life.

Her shoulders shrunk up to her ears under the intensity of his gaze.

“Stop that,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me with those eyes or I’ll kick you. I’ve got a perfect aim for your crotch in this position.”

Peter shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I refuse. I can’t help it. You look…perfect. The nicest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re stoned.”

“Yes. Doesn’t change the fact that your lips look very enticing.” He winked at her and tried to scoot forward to get a taste.

Her socked foot landed against his chest, pushing him back in place, “I thought we were making pizza bagels, not kissing. Weren’t you just starving a minute ago?”

“Starving for you, maybe.”

“Peter!” She let out a loud laugh, keeping him at bay with her outstretched leg.

He was so in love. Completely enamored. Whipped. Head over heels. Trash for her. Whatever he wanted to call it. He belonged to her so wholly. His bleeding heart was in her hand for the rest of his life. He would follow her to the ends of the earth and back again.

“If you don’t let me kiss you right this very second, I am going to turn this shower on.” His hand reached over his shoulder to grip onto the shower knob with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

She gave a sharp inhale, “You wouldn’t dare.”

His eyebrows raised, taking on that challenge, “Oh really?”

She knew she fucked up the second before the shower burst to life. From his position in the tub, it shot over his head to spray directly into her face. She shrieked and fell back, sliding down the sloped edge of the tub until she was nearly on her back.

It was all the opportunity he needed to pounce. He leapt on top of her to the sound of her laughter and blocked the shower stream from her face with his back. His arms wrapped protectively around her head as he laid over her. Water pooled around them, warming their bodies, and soaking through their clothes.

They didn’t feel it.

All he could feel was the devoted love burning a hole in his chest where his heart used to be.

She giggled up at him, blinking water droplets from her eyes, and whispered, “You’re an ass.”

He laughed in response and crashed his lips over hers, mumbling against them, “You love me.”

She sighed in content. Her arms snaked around his neck to draw him closer, melting happily into his kiss.

“I do.”

#i will take every opportunity to stick this man in a tub or shower #andrew garfield #tasm #tasm x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm fic #tasm peter fic #tasm peter parker fic

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djarins-cyare · 2 months

Text

So it’s been a year…

One year since Disney released episode 1 season 3 of The Mandalorian

One year since I published chapter 1 of Be-All And Endor

I don’t really remember much of the first 20 weeks of that year, just that it was a flurry of proofreading and finalising and uploading (the hard parts) and comment reading and new friend making and massively appreciating (the wonderful parts).

Proofing and publishing 2 chapters a week with average lengths of around 10k words was exhausting. But for the first 8 of those weeks I had Din Djarin on the screen (intermittently *ahem* but this isn’t a post about the quality of s3) and for the rest of the year I had my readers leaving comments and sending messages, and it was… overwhelmingly the best year of my life.

I mean that. The best year. Ever. Because of you. Any of you, all of you, if you’ve ever even just clicked on my fic and given it chance, you’ve raised the hits on it. Even seeing that metric tick up has made me so thankful.

Because I didn’t think I could write. I always wanted to be an author but never believed in myself.

I did an English degree with writing in mind, but told myself nobody ever does anything with an English degree. I took creative writing modules, and when the published author who ran the class gave me scathing feedback, my dream fully died. I got an okay grade, hardly anything to be proud of, and I graduated and went to work in another industry.

I suffered from clinical depression.

One day many years later, I found a favourite author online and messaged him to ask when his fourth novel in a series was being published, and (emboldened by the anonymity of being online) cheekily offered to proofread it for him. Except he took me seriously and sent me the prologue to see what I could do. Like, for a real book you can buy on Amazon. After feeling sick for two whole days I went all Autistic Obsession on it and sent him back the most thoroughly proofed bit of writing anyone had ever seen. And I got the job. (I say ‘job’, I’d volunteered for free in exchange for the privilege of reading it in advance, so I can only ever call it semi-professional since I didn’t earn from it).

This, amongst other things, lifted me from my depression. I came off the pills and felt happier, more creative. Once the proofing was completed, the author encouraged me to write my own stuff, but whilst I’d gained some confidence… my brain was empty. I had no clamouring stories to get down on the page, no gems ready to polish.

Then in summer 2021, a friend sat me down and showed me the first 3 episodes of the Mandalorian. And my brain chemistry was instantly altered. I binge-watched the first two seasons, by the end of which I was unequivocally in love with Din Djarin, and then I binge-watched them again.

Around that time, I moved to a different country. Well, Wales is still the UK, but it’s a different country to England, and I was now 170 miles away from my friends. I went because as a single woman on a middling salary, London is too expensive to live in and having rid myself of an overbearing long term relationship, I was NOT keen to get into another one just to pay the bills. The pandemic meant I could work remotely, so I upped sticks and moved to Cardiff, resolving to visit my office in London (and my friends) once a month. It’s 2 hours by train, totally doable.

So what to do with all the spare time I suddenly had?

By Easter 2022 I’d started writing. 9 months later (yes, it’s my actual baby), Be-All And Endor was complete and I began publishing alongside season 3’s release.

Now… it has over 62.k views and 1.2k kudos 🥹🤯

Did I think it would be this popular? No way. I can’t even believe it now. I still see SO much wrong with it, which is why I’m still proofreading and editing it.

A professional proofread/edit takes a long time, and if you’re wondering what I’m doing to it, it involves the following:

Checking for things like clichés, non-inclusive language

Checking all adverbs to see if a better word can be used (e.g. ‘bellows’ instead of ‘shouts loudly’… adverbs usually end in -ly and it’s not good to overuse them)

Rephrasing any passive sentences (simply put: ‘the ship is flown by Din’ is passive; ‘Din flies the ship’ is active)

Reducing average sentence length (shorter sentences are easier to read)

Going through every single damn polysyllabic word (e.g. anything that has more than 3-syllables) and seeing if a shorter synonym can be found (this helps the rhythm, as too many long words slows things down and can make readers stumble… and I use them a lot 😖)

Checking the 50 most frequently used words and seeing if I can find synonyms for those (helps give more variety in the language)

Ensuring Din’s name isn’t overused or underused, and adding epithets (e.g. ‘the hunter’ or ‘your Mandalorian’) where it’s overused but it’s too confusing to just say ‘he’/‘him’

These are the big things, but there’s more too - I’m streamlining decisions I made to use certain phrasings throughout; tweaking Din’s word choice here and there to ensure his voice is captured the best way possible; revamping some of the photos. And with all the tiny tweaks, it’s slowly padding things out too… when publishing was done it was 393k, now it’s 403k, although it’s not extra content as such, just better described.

I’m up to chapter 13 so far, and I’ll probably be doing this for another 2 years to get through all 40, because (a) I want to write other things too so that slows down the proofing, and (b) I so badly want to be proud of this project… everyone’s telling me I should be, and I am in a way… but it’s more gratitude to others than pride in myself… and I feel like if I get this proofing done and finally have a story I’m truly happy with, I can at last let myself be proud of what I achieved here.

I confess, I’m so envious of those who can post something without obsessing over it. I know it’s a facet of my autism, and I’ve long since accepted that my neurodivergent brain will not let me be cool about things other people are cool about. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I should turn it to my advantage, so okay… I’m gonna make this fic the same quality as a published book on your bookshelf. And meanwhile I’m gonna enjoy and love all the fics that people can write and publish with far greater speed than I can, because the greatest thing about this fandom is that every contribution is worthy of appreciation, no matter the author’s experience or writing method. Quality fic isn’t synonymous with proofreading, and I hope it’s clear that I’m describing my obsession with perfecting my own writing, not other people’s. I’ve read so many amazing authors on here, and I want them all to know how much I love their work (any recs are from the bottom of my heart).

So anyway, this long and rambling post has turned into something unintended… I guess you now have some insight into my mind and the origins of Be-All And Endor and the future of it. Not what I meant to do, but I’ll leave it in for context.

Because the real reason I started writing this diatribe was because I wanted to express my true and undying gratitude to everyone who has ever read, commented, or left kudos on my fic over on AO3, and/or messaged me, followed me, interacted with me, or reblogged my masterlist here on tumblr 🧡💚

I know I am insanely lucky to have received the level of support I have, and I don’t take that for granted at all. I want to give back to this fandom, and I love reading and reccing other people’s fics, meeting new moots, and hopefully soon I’ll be publishing new fics for you all to read too. Fresh material is percolating, so it won’t be too long now.

So thank you to everyone who reads this post, you’re the absolute best and I love you more than I have the vocabulary to describe. Please accept a grateful forehead kiss instead 💋

#well this was longer than intended #but we all know brevity isn’t my strong suit #cannot express how much i love you all #so i rambled and i hope my gratitude comes across in there somewhere #thank you for supporting me #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mandalorian x reader #mando x reader

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neonghostlights · 1 year

Text

A/N: I'm taking a break I swear.

Summary: You haven’t been the same since you woke up in the hospital with memory loss after the earthquake hit Hawkins. When strange things start happening and you feel like you’ve started losing your mind, a group of strangers offer to help. Even though you’ve never met them before, they seem to know you better than you think.

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: Nosebleed, brief mention of church, Angst, Readers kind of mean to Eddie but she is starting to go really downhill and it's just gonna get worse from here. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

Series Masterlist

I am no longer doing a tag list for this series.

Part Seven

Saturday, September 27th, 1986

The afternoon sun beat down on the top of your head. The sweet tea you were sipping on kept you from getting too overheated. The weather would start to change soon. It was nice to enjoy some warmth before the fall.

Eddie had the upper half of his body under the hood of your car. The hem of his black t-shirt rising slightly to show the pale expanse of his lower back. You could catch a sliver of the band of his boxers peeking out.

Had you shut yourself away from the outside world so much that a pair of blue checkered boxes were scandalizing? If he kept this up you were going to have to start fanning yourself like the women in those old films to keep yourself from swooning.

The past hour of Eddie working had been silent, making you wonder if he even remembered you were out there with him.

When he showed up to your house he didn’t mention anything about your episode the other day. His eyes traced your body up and down, like he was making sure nothing was out of place. Like he was afraid asking if you were okay would set you off. When he saw everything still in place, he asked you to sit with him while he worked.

Eddie peeked over his shoulder at you, catching your shameful staring. The sides of his mouth twitched at the sight.

You diverted your eyes quickly, pretending to be entranced by the hunk of oiled metal in his hand.

“So,” you started off timidly, hoping he wouldn’t bring up your gawking. “What’s left for the car?”

Eddie turned around to face you fully at this, arms crossed over his chest.

“Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?” He asked smugly.

“No,” you said firmly. “Just wondering. I feel bad for not asking questions about what you’re doing. I also need to know how much I’m going to owe you for all this.” You waved your hand at your car.

“Well, not sure on the price yet. I’ll let you know when I know. There’s a few things I’m waiting for to arrive at the shop that I ordered. Plus, I’m trying to get my hands on this really important part that might take a while to get here. They’re really hard to find,” he announced with a shrug.

“Really? What part is that?” You sat up with your spine straight in your chair, suddenly more interested than you had been. Whatever this was, it sounded expensive. If it came down to it, asking your mom for money wouldn’t be the worst decision you could make. Putting up with her lectures would just be something you’d have to deal with.

“It’s this….thing. It holds the whole car together. Yours is super rusted so it’s a wonder the whole car hasn’t fallen apart while you’ve been driving.”

“Oh, god. That sounds bad.” You pressed a hand to your forehead, anxiety causing a headache to start. You dropped your hand, focusing on the weeds that grew through the crack in the pavement below your feet.

Eddie must have noticed the grimace on your face. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll get you back on the road before you know it. Do you trust me?”

You bit your chapped lips. Did you trust him? Despite his reputation, you had no reason not to trust him. He had shown you nothing but kindness since he started coming around.

You slowly nodded your head.

A wide, beautiful smile spread across his face. That traitorous organ in your chest stuttered at the sight. You worried that you might have to start pounding at your own chest to get it back into a normal rhythm.

“Good,” he sighed like it was a relief, still standing and staring at you.

You shifted your hips in your chair, feeling your skin buzz under his stare. You decided to stand and walk over to the radio propped up on the roof of your car. The feeling of his eyes on you as you sauntered over made you feel alive.

Probably more alive than you had felt in a while.

You loved it.

You fiddled with the station, flipping from a static filled metal station to a country one. Daring a glance at Eddie, you noticed the dramatic nose scrunch he made at the music change.

His face made you laugh. “Got any good tapes with you?” You asked.

“Hm…I think I definitely have a few that you would like in there.” He gestured towards the parked van.

You moved towards his van, a hand placed on the handle, but his body suddenly blocked you from opening the door. You looked up at him confused, wondering if maybe you had overstepped by trying to go into his car.

“Sorry. I just remembered it’s really messy in there. I’ll look around for something, okay?” His voice was urgent. You fought the urge to peek through the window.

“Okay,” you agreed, stepping back and walking back to the radio to allow him some privacy. You could hear him shuffling and cursing under his breath as he dug around in search of whatever tape he had in mind.

It was funny to think maybe it was you causing him to be so flustered.

He held the tape up in his hand triumphantly as he walked back towards you. His body crowding yours as he reached onto the roof of the car to put the tape in. He didn’t move away, he just watched your face as you heard The Smith’s start to play.

You raised a curious eyebrow at him as you let out a little laugh. “Didn’t take you as a Smith’s fan,” you stated.

“They’ve got some alright stuff. Are you a fan?”

“I love them.” You couldn’t help the smile, so wide it was aching your cheeks.

The feeling in the air shifted as ’How Soon Is Now?’ played. His eyes flicked from yours down to your mouth then up to your eyes again.

When had he gotten so close to you?

And how could you get him even closer?

For some reason, the decreasing space between the two of you felt so right, like it was clearing the fog from your head. You wanted to hold onto this brief moment of clarity. A moment in time where your head didn’t ache, your nose didn’t bleed, and the nightmares couldn’t get you. Being here with him felt safe, like Eddie was a protective cocoon that wrapped you up and shielded you from all of the bad things.

“Good,” he muttered, reaching to run his thumb gently across your cheek. So softly like he was afraid you might shatter if he put an ounce of pressure behind his touch.

You wanted to shatter in his hands though. Only because it felt like when you were nothing but pieces, only he would be able to put you back together again.

His eyes searched through yours, a silent question that you didn’t know the answer to. But you wished you did.

His face was closer now, his thumb still on your cheek. You tilted your chin up to reach him as he tilted his head and brought it down towards yours. Your eyes flutter shut, scared that if you keep them open your mind will find a way to ruin this one ounce of happiness.

And just before you could feel his lips on yours, he pulled away.

You snap your eyes open to find him standing a foot away now, hands tucked tightly into the pockets of his jeans.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t- I should probably go now,” he blabbered.

You couldn’t help but feel hurt. He was turning you down. It was a harsh slap to the ego to see him so regretful over almost kissing you.

“Right,” you agreed, keeping your voice light like your feelings weren’t hurt.

His face fell as he took you in. His pity was definitely not what you wanted right now.

He didn’t look at you as he packed up his things, shoving them into the back of the van.

You made it up the porch steps when you heard your name called behind you.

Eddie stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at you.

“Do you want to go out sometime? With me?” He asked, sheepishly. You could see the way he fidgeted with the rings he had put back on his fingers.

“Like on a date?” You prayed you didn’t sound as giddy as you felt on the inside.

“Yes. A date,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“Okay. I think I’d like that,” you agreed, trying to keep your cool. You could already imagine the happy dance you would do once you shut the door.

“Cool! Okay. Let me get my schedule from work for this week and I’ll let you know when.” That smile was back now. His dimples in full force.

You said your goodbyes, both of you hardly containing your happiness. Once inside, you did your little happy shimmy behind the door.

You peaked out the curtain and laughed when you saw Eddie doing his own happy dance on the way to his van.

Sunday, September 28th, 1986

“I’m going to be late for church,” your mother fretted as she maneuvered down the roads of Hawkins.

You kept your head turned away from her, focusing on the window. It was weird driving by sites where the earthquake still left its proof in the earth. It seemed like some people in town lived their everyday life pretending it didn’t happen, like half of the town didn’t fall into the deep chasms in the ground.

Like there weren't men in suits and people in hazmat gear still hanging around.

Your mom was one of the people who pretended it didn’t happen. She found ways to distract herself, mostly by throwing a fit over something new everyday.

She didn’t go to church every Sunday, but on the Sundays that she did, she made sure everyone knew about it.

And if she happened to be late, she would make sure everyone knew it was because of you.

Her attitude has gotten worse lately. Everything you said was met with a snarky remark. You missed the days where you felt like she worried because she loved you. Now it just felt like you were a burden.

You couldn’t wait for Eddie to be finished with your car so you could feel an ounce of freedom. You loved your mom, but if you had to go grocery shopping with her one more time you were going to lose it even more than you already had.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of your favorite mechanic.

You didn’t tell your mom that Eddie was working on your car. As far as she knew, you were saving money and trying to get worked into the schedule of the very busy mechanic shops in town.

You chanced a glance at your mother, scared that somehow she can read your mind now and will start berating you for thinking about Eddie Munson.

‘The maniac devil-worshiping serial killer’ she once called him when she saw a picture of him in the newspaper.

You nodded along, agreeing with everything she said because you didn’t know him then. You hadn’t even looked at the picture in the newspaper, His name sparked didn’t spark interest in you like it did now.

You can remember another time, you were having a bad day, the headaches and nosebleeds were constant. It wasn’t long after you left the hospital and you were struggling with the fact that you couldn’t even remember your high school graduation.

You sat on the couch in your mothers living room hugging a throw pillow to your chest. This was before you moved out, watching the evening news with her and trying to act like you weren’t on a downward spiral. His face and name were on the news, discussing his charges being dropped.

Your mom gave you a long lecture that night on who he was, and why you should stay far away from him. Even going as far as saying that if you saw him in the same store as you, then leave.

Back then, you agreed. Willing to do anything to keep yourself safe and your mom happy.

Now you knew she didn’t know him like you did. She would take the gossip and things she heard around town as fact.

“Why would a video store be open on a Sunday anyways?” She asked, bringing you back to the present.

“I don’t know, mom,” you sighed, eyes never straying from the landscape. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. Sometimes you felt like you reverted back to your moody teenage years.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center. “Shoot,” she muttered under her breath.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot I’m supposed to be volunteering with some ladies for a food drive after church. I really can’t miss it…” She chewed on her lip as she stared at the front door of Family Video.

“Do you need me to get a ride? I can ask Robin,” you offered quickly. You would walk all the way home if it meant you could get the hell out of the car and let her go on about her day.

Your mom thought for a second, like she was pondering if that was allowed or not. You wanted to scream, tell her that you were an adult. Despite your issues, you could still make adult decisions.

“I suppose that’s okay,” she finally said.

You sighed and climbed out of the car.

Steve wasn’t at work today, leaving just you and Robin to man the store on your own.

It was probably the best day you had since you worked there.

“I forgot to ask,” you said as you picked up a stack of tapes that had just been returned. “Do you think you can give me a ride home? It’s not too far from town. I can give you some gas money too.”

“Oh, sorry. I don’t drive. Steve’s picking me up. I can ask him…” She trailed off awkwardly. The unspoken words hanging in the air. Steve probably wouldn’t give you a ride home. If he did, it would not be a fun car ride.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” You waved your hand in the air like it wasn’t a big deal. You wracked your brain for a moment before an idea dawned on you. “Actually, do you have Eddie’s number?”

Eddie agreed immediately when you asked him for a ride home.

He showed up 15 minutes before closing to pick you up. He waved enthusiastically through the store window when he noticed you staring.

All thoughts about being a burden for needing a ride disappeared when you caught sight of his joyous face.

Robin nudged you playfully when she noticed your bashful smile.

“Come on. Let’s finish up so you can go see him,” she said with a smile.

You rushed through closing, excited to get going. By the time you and Robin locked up for the night, Steve was standing next to Eddie’s van. Eddie leaned up against the passenger side door, a forgotten cigarette burning in his hand.

The conversation looked tense. Steve’s hands moved through the air while Eddie kept his mouth pressed in a thin line, his jaw tense.

Eddie lit up when he saw you approach. He tossed the cigarette to the side, stomping it out with his boot. He waved his hand in the air to try to clear the smoke before you got closer.

And they say chivalry is dead.

“You ready to go?” He asked, cutting Steve off mid sentence.

“Yep,” you chirped. “Hi, Steve,” you say politely.

He nodded his head at you as a greeting, not saying anything to you. You could see the way Eddie’s hands turned into fists for a moment as he glared at Steve before seeming to remember that you were standing right there.

He turned and opened the door for you to climb into the van. You could tell based on the crumbs and small pieces of trash on the floor that he had done his best to clean it up. A strong smelling air freshener hung from the rearview mirror.

When he jumped in the front seat he turned and smiled at you.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Thank you for picking me up. I’m really sorry for having to call you…”

“I told you I can give you rides!” He exclaimed. “It’s really no problem. I’m happy I get to see you again.”

There were those damn butterflies again. You covered your mouth with your hand to hide your traitorous smile.

Eddie pulled out of the parking lot. You noticed he was going slightly under the speed limit, surprising because he usually pulls into your driveway like a bat out of hell.

“Do you mind if I stop by the gas station real quick? I just wanted to run in and get a few snacks,” he explained.

“Yep! That’s fine,” you said. Even with him going under the speed limit the car ride was going by way too quickly. Before you knew it, you were pulling into the gas station.

Eddie hopped out of the van. “Do you want anything?” He asked.

You shook your head no.

“Okay, well, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink.

You watched as he crossed the parking lot. People loitering around the building eyed him suspiciously. Luckily, no one bothered him.

You looked around the van a bit, hoping to get an insight into Eddie. It wouldn’t hurt to snoop a little bit. You were positive if the roles were reversed he would definitely go through your things.

The cloth seats were surprisingly comfortable. You ran your finger over what looked like a cigarette burn that left a hole in the seat. You wondered who sat here before you to leave that permanent mark in his van.

You glanced back over at the gas station, seeing Eddie still roaming the aisles through the large windows.

Deciding the best place to snoop was the glovebox, you popped open the latch and started digging around inside.

Scraps of paper and some trash fell out first. You pushed some tapes aside, thinking that there would be nothing of interest until your eye caught onto pink cloth.

You reached your hand tentatively to grab it.

You held up the cloth to realize it was a pink scrunchy. You checked back to make sure Eddie wasn’t coming out of the store.

You were confused. Eddie wore black all of the time. He didn’t seem like the type to wear a pink scrunchie in his hair. But what did you know?

Setting the scrunchie in your lap, you reached your hand back into the glovebox to see what else you could find. Your hand made contact with smooth glass. You pulled it out to inspect it.

Your stomach dropped when you saw what it was.

Perfume.

Girl's perfume.

You shoved the perfume and scrunchie back where it belonged and slammed the latch shut.

Eddie has a girlfriend.

And if it’s not a girlfriend, then he has a girl in his car enough for her to keep her things in here.

Your stomach dropped and your chest felt like it was cracking in half.

If he has a girlfriend, why would he flirt with you and ask you on a date?

No wonder he didn’t want you to go into his van yesterday to find a tape. He didn’t want you to find out and ruin the little game he was playing.

The driver side door swung open. “Hey, sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t decide on which soda I wanted. But I got you this,” he said as he handed you a bag of M&M’s and a Dr. Pepper.

“Thanks. These are my favorites,” you said quietly.

“You okay?” He questioned. A concerned look crossed over his face as he looked at you, making you wonder how awful you looked right now.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just really tired.” You did your best to muster a smile.

He looked like he didn’t believe you but decided not to press any further. The rest of the car ride to your house was awkward and quiet, filled with Eddie’s attempts to joke and make you laugh. You could tell your one worded answers were hurting his feelings but you didn’t really care.

He pulled into your driveway and opened the passenger side door to help you out of the van. He walked beside you silently up your porch steps and to your front door.

“Look, are you okay? Because you’re being really quiet, and I don’t know if I did something or if you’re not feeling well…”

You looked up at him, his hair and face illuminated by the porch light you always left on. He twisted and turned the rings on his hand as he searched your face for a clue on why you were suddenly acting so distant to him.

The fact that he was acting so innocent made you even more mad.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You asked, the words coming out as a harsh accusation.

Eddie looked taken aback for a moment. “Yes- I mean no-” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Then why did you just say yes so quickly?” You pressed.

“It’s complicated,” he sighed. “I didn’t mean to say yes.”

“He’s lying,” a deep voice whispered in your head, surprising you with its intensity.

The voice was right. Eddie was lying.

Your temples pounded. The edges of your vision start to turn black from the incoming pain.

You needed to go inside.

“I don’t believe you,” you gritted out.

“Why? Did Steve say something to you?” His voice came out strained and angry.

“He’s hiding something from you,” the voice informed you.

“No, no one told me anything. If you don’t have a girlfriend, then what is there for Steve to tell me? And if you don’t have a girlfriend then why is her perfume and scrunchy in your van? Am I some kind of joke to you?” Your voice was growing louder with each word you said. You could feel the anger pouring through your bloodstream.

An unnatural anger that you had never felt before in your life.

You didn’t care if you were overreacting or not. You just wanted to get him away from you.

You turned and unlocked your door quickly, ignoring the pleading look from Eddie beside you.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, can I come in and we can talk about this?”

“He’s trying to use you. Don’t let him in,” the voice that only you could hear stated.

You listened to the voice, trusting it fully. You couldn’t trust Eddie.

“Shit, are you okay? Your nose is bleeding, and you look really pale.” Eddie’s hand reached towards you, but you pushed it away.

“Stay the fuck away from me, Eddie. Don’t come back here or I’ll call the cops and tell them how much of a creep you are,” you spat.

Eddie reared back like he had been hit. His mouth opened as he stared at you in shock.

He didn’t move to reach out to you again as you swung the door open and stomped inside, turning to lock it immediately after it shut.

You even shut off the porch light for good measure, leaving him in darkness.

You crawled to your bed, not caring if he made it back to the van or not. Not even bothering to clean the now drying blood on your face or change out of your work clothes.

How had you not seen he was messing with you? Was he just trying to get in your pants the whole time? Or was he going to butter you up in hopes of getting more money out of you when it came time to pay him for his work? Were he and Steve acting like highschoolers and teaming up to make you miserable? Was Robin in on it too?

One thing you knew for certain, was that you would never trust Eddie Munson again.

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #mechanic!eddie munson x reader #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #mechanic eddie munson #eddie munson angst

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genericpuff · 5 months

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I reread episode 24 of LO after having dropped off between seasons 1 and 2 and it genuinely brought me to tears. I feel like there’s no way the theory about Rachel not intending this to be a depiction of SA can be true. The way it’s written feels so powerful and intentional, and I honestly think that makes her dropping the plotline that much worse.

I mean, maybe I’m projecting because of how similar the scenario was to my own experiences, but I just don’t feel convinced that she didn’t fully intend to write this as SA.

The shots of Persephone trying to physically push him away, of her standing shell shocked in the shower, after the fact, her internal dialogue about wanting it to stop but feeling like she can’t take back the “okay” she gave. It’s gut wrenching. And Apollo commenting on her hair and saying she should leave it long is such a brilliant piece of writing that hits like a punch in the gut for us readers who know why it grows.

And honestly, I think that chapter being so well written is what hurts the most. Because it feels like myself and other survivors were lured in by the prospect of seeing our stories told, and getting catharsis through Persephone even if we would never have it. The conversation she has later with Eros, where he states plainly that what happened was rape, not dancing around the word, validating what Persephone and so many real readers have gone through… It’s so, so painful to read that back and know that this plotline was dropped. That we were led to believe we would be seen only to be completely swept under the rug with no resolution to that story.

And I know people criticize that it’s immediately followed by a phone call with Hades, but honestly? After rereading that too? I loved most of the phone call. They had real chemistry, and you could still feel the weight of what just happened in how Persephone carried herself, but as they talked and she had something to distract herself, the burden got a bit lighter, at least for the moment. It felt resonant. Emotionally intelligent.

It’s like you said. Lore Olympus wouldn’t be so easy to hate if it hadn’t been so easy to love. I think it could have been good despite its flaws and problematic elements, because no media is 100% pure— but somewhere along the way, Rachel stopped caring. And THAT is what ruined it.

No but this is so valid, everything you just described was pretty much why I loved the SA plotline in the first place.

I think the scene itself is beautifully written, but it's odd how it becomes more about Persephone simply wanting an "easy way out" of TGOEM, not just in the 'decision' to have sex (i.e. she was coerced and assaulted) but later when she tries to get out of TGOEM, like... is it because she wants to actually date guys, or is it because she doesn't feel like she "deserves" to be in TGOEM anymore due to the assault? The story tries in some places to explore this but never commits to it fully so it's really hard to know what point it's trying to make at times when you actually peel back the layers.

Really the biggest reasons I 'suspect' Rachel of not intending to write a genuine SA plot from the very beginning is because of how... 'back of mind' it is. It only seems to be brought up whenever Rachel can be bothered to remember, but then it's completely juxtaposed against scenes where it should affect her (or reasonably would) and it doesn't. Case in point, a few episodes after she tells Eros what happened and he confirms it was rape, he tries to convince her to go into Hades' office dressed in a trenchcoat and nothing else underneath and it's like bro... this girl just told you what she went through, why are you suggesting she try to seduce her boss who she doesn't even really know yet LOL

As a result , it really does just make it feel like the SA scene is just there to make Apollo an easy villain, and Hades an easy hero, with the only definitions being "well, Hades didn't assault her, so he's definitely the better choice!" (as if Apollo was ever a 'choice' to begin with, Persephone didn't like him from day 1 so there was basically no chance of there being a love triangle setup except for the audience members who quickly latched onto that "I guess he's cute if you squint a little" line). And with the way episodes are chopped up, separating points of the narrative from each other, it feels like whenever stuff does happen (esp surrounding the SA plot) it's because Rachel's finally bought herself enough time to come up with something, like the therapy episode, Eros confirming it was assault, Persephone stealing the lyre with the intent of hiding it from Apollo (only to then willingly show it to him alone in her bedroom with him a handful of episodes later), etc.

If she did intend to write an SA scene from the beginning, it doesn't feel like she thought the plotline through fully to make it actually feel genuine (and this goes for a lot of the subplots in LO, they always seem to start off as these base "get your attention" ideas but with no actual follow through). And with Apollo now being written as this "huehue you fell right into my trap!" villain (and very poorly I might add) it just feels like the SA is now taking a backseat to, "Actually, Apollo is the bad guy because he wants to overthrow his dad or some shit. Forget the SA happened, I don't wanna write about it anymore."

All those points aside, I agree with you fully, if Rachel cared about what she was trying to write back when the SA was first shown, then that level of care definitely doesn't seem to be there anymore and it's such a shame to see. It just feels like it's being used for artificial drama and nothing more and that's so frustrating and disappointing for many of the SA victims who are critical of this story (including myself) to see when that plotline originally felt like comforting visibility.

#lo critical #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything

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prodigaldaughteralice · 1 year

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Man, you know what hit me while watching For the Future, and I didn’t say anything about it at the time but it’s been circulating in my head since then?

Amity saying to Boscha “This is a bit much, even for you!”, in comparison to her father a few episodes back saying “this is too much— even for you.” The similarity in structure, the difference in delivery, you know.

And I keep thinking about the theory that Alador and Odalia were pushed to marry by their parents, and about how Amity was pushed to be friends with Boscha, and imagining a bad future where Luz didn’t show up and they ended up in a similar position.

It’s not going to be that bad, right? Sure, Amity never really *liked* Boscha, but you don’t have to like someone to be their friend, you just have to be around them, do things with them, listen when they talk. Having a wife will be like that, right? She’ll just… do the things she’s supposed to do, and live alongside her. It’ll be fine.

The wedding is just another formal event her parents throw, with the complication of Boscha’s parents being part of it too, and constantly trying to one-up hers. In her final act of rebellion, Amity sends Willow an invitation. She doesn’t come. Amity closes a door.

Odalia lightens up on urging Amity to join the Emperor’s Coven when she realizes that as the only one of their kids who follows in Alador’s footsteps magic-wise, it’d be better for her to train to take over the factory someday. She can’t say she exactly enjoys working under her father, since he only ever talks about work, and not even with the spark of interest in his eyes she remembers him having when she was little. Her mother spends most of her time sniping at her mothers-in-law and asking when grandkids are coming, though, and the twins are gadding about through high society and making fun of her whenever they can, so he’s kind of the family member she’s closest to by default.

Things don’t really go well. Boscha thinks the way their mothers constantly fight is hilarious, and she definitely enjoys the status that comes along with the Blight name, but she definitely doesn’t love the way her new in-laws expect her to wind potions skills into the family business or else just stay out of the way. She wants to win trophies, not be one. She’s also not stupid, and she knows Amity doesn’t love her— knew since long before the wedding, but she hoped that would change over time, and as it continues not to she’s building up an intense resentment. They were meant for each other, why can’t Amity see it? She’s being the queen of Bonesborough society, they’re on top together just like it was in high school only better, but Amity still doesn’t love her, and it’s not fair.

Some years on, they have a daughter. She’s the absolute light of Amity’s life, but by the time she’s toddling Boscha is already starting to take out some of her resentment on her. She pushes her too hard, she makes fun of the way she garbles words. The baby’s just being a baby, and Amity tries to get Boscha to lighten up, but Boscha says she’s just having fun and being a mom, which Amity isn’t because she’s working all day, and she doesn’t have a comeback for that.

Amity’s trying to calm Boscha down, taking her to matches when she has a rare night off and they can get a sitter, but it just prickles at her more— she wants to be on the field, not watching; she wants to be on a real date with her wife, not an awkward attempt at appeasement.

It’s all eating away at Amity. She looks into her daughter’s three beautiful gold eyes and she’s terrified her little girl will feel like this, someday.

She’s sleepwalking through her days, she feels like one of her mother’s ghosts. She’s working, because it’s the only thing she really understands anymore. She’s elbow-deep in the beta design for the 3.6, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when her father puts a hand on her shoulder.

He has a bottle of hard apple blood. They go sit on the roof, and they talk.

She can’t say she sees a way through to happiness, but at least she’s not alone. That’s something, isn’t it?

#owl house #the owl house #toh #toh for the future #toh fic #owl house fanfiction #pd alice writes #amity blight #alador blight #toh boscha #maybe someday they’ll both tell their wives ‘enough’

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shadowed-dancer · 2 months

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I watched the Netflix atla and I have thoughts

I will break them down into positives, negatives, and assorted, but if you want the short version: it's better than the M Night Shyamalan film.

Positives

I like that Zuko's crew is the 41st division. It's a cute detail, and honestly I had always wondered how they chose soldiers to accompany an exiled prince

I actually liked Suki's characterization. Like yeah, I believe that girl has never had contact with outsiders. And I think her chemistry with Sokka is great! I can't wait for her to come back and see more of the world (her "thank you for bringing the world to me" line is cute when you consider he brought her an air, water, and fire bender... less cute that her village almost got destroyed but still)

Hot take: I don’t mind that they cut Sokka’s sexism arc. It was minimal in the original series to begin with, and with the pacing of the Netflix series it would have been pointless and rushed. I truthfully believe that if they hadn't mentioned the cut beforehand, 5 people at most would have noticed it was gone

Wow Koh the Face Stealer is SO MUCH WORSE in live action. So gross. His face BLINKS. 10/10 to whoever designed that, I hated it and recognize that it was perfect. I look forward to seeing it in my nightmares (also I don't mind the change of "don't show any expression". It still works)

Gyatso telling Aang that it wasn't his fault and that he wouldn't have been able to do anything was so sweet and important to me, especially with all the other adults in this series being turned into Grade-A assholes. It’s been a while since I watched the entire original series but were the adults THIS mean about it in the original? I know the occasional random townsperson would say "you abandoned us" but I don’t remember people like Bumi or THE OTHER AVATARS blaming him like that (I know this is the positive section but just to be clear, the positive is the Gyatso scene. Turning everyone else so mean will be touched upon in the negatives)

All of Gyatso's scenes were actually amazing. I cried. Also finding his body hit so much harder in live action.

Leaves from the Vine playing during Lu Ten's funeral and then again when Iroh chose to go with Zuko... I tearbended HARD at that one

I think they did a good job merging three story lines into Omashu. I know it may bother some fans, but for the time they had I thought combining all of those together within the city was clever. Plus, since we see the city get taken at the end of the season, we feel more invested since we spent more time there! (I'm also glad they didn't destroy the Northern Air Temple... that always bothered me)

The sets are lovely. They look so similar to the original show and it makes me happy to simply see these places come to life. I got so giddy seeing Omashu you don't even understand

I like the interpretation of Aang’s tattoo. That was actually the one thing I liked from the M Night Shyamalan film (intricate designs rather than a straight blue block) and I feel this is an even better interpretation (the designs are more subtle until he lights up)

The wink and nod to the great divide (and other episodes like the pirates) was cute. I do wish we got to see some adventures of the kids bonding, but boy am I glad they didn't feel the need to adapt the great divide

I liked that they sang secret tunnel a little early. The second the mechanist brought up the secret tunnels I burst into song on instinct, so it's only fair the characters do the same

I liked Zuko having a notebook on the avatars. Of course he would have made that. And I liked that Aang used it as a reference

I liked how they teased the "my cabbages!" line before giving us the real thing. Just a fun thing for fans of the original

Negatives

The first episode had so much exposition it actually felt exhausting. Also Zuko really came out of the gate swinging with his motivation, eh? No nuance or slowly unveiling why he wants to capture Aang? Ok...

Ozai confused me. After finishing the season I believe Ozai's motivation was "sacrifice the weak to become strong, use Zuko to fuel Azula to be better" but it felt so confusing to get there. There was a point where I thought he genuinely wanted to see Zuko grow and find the avatar, and while it's fine for Zuko to think that, it felt weird for us to be jerked around like that (especially the in-between point where it feels like he prefers his banished son to his spy-catching daughter).

I also don’t like the way he acts with Azula (again, I know it's an act, but it's a bothersome change). He calls her performance below average. What happened to "she’s a true prodigy, just like her grandfather for whom she was named"? When characters like Mai and Zhao have to tell us "he's just playing games" it feels like they are telling rather than showing. "She's a true prodigy" SHOWS US he has a very obvious favourite. "He's playing with you" TELLS US that he's lying, and we therefore need to just accept that Azula is actually his favourite even though nothing he has done supports that

I don’t like that Aang was heading North due to a premonition from Kyoshi. I always liked how "the avatar must travel the world and find their own teachers in order to care for the world". Why not let him look for teachers? It enforces the idea of the avatar needing to care for all nations in order to protect all nations. I feel like it was supposed to go for this new direction of “the avatar must do it alone” but unfortunately I don't like that message as much

I mentioned in the positive section, but so many of the characters are weirdly mean (specifically the adult characters). I feel like they are trying to go for a message like "childlike mentality isn’t bad and it’s this innocence that will succeed where adults failed" but it just comes across as every grownup but Gyatso being the worst. Why are Kyoshi and Kuruk yelling so much and blaming Aang for everything? I feel like the goal will ultimately be to prove them wrong, but I do not like this characterization

Zuko’s scar needed to be SO MUCH WORSE. Something I love about the original is that every time we look at Zuko, we get a horrific reminder of what kind of person the Fire Lord is. It didn't just make his skin a little red, his eye is stuck in a permanent squint. His ear is shrivelled. You can tell that it was BAD. Here? He could cover it with makeup if it bothers him that much. Where's the texture? Where's the ear and eye damage? Sometimes it looks more like a birthmark than a serious injury. At the very least, take away his eyebrow!

Sokka and Katara’s being trapped in the spirit world was lowkey a little dumb but I get what they were going for (it's more urgent than them needing to suck on frogs). It just makes it seem worse when Aang is sitting there chatting with Zuko about his brushes. Like I loved the conversation but the fact that Sokka and Katara's lives were in danger (along with the villagers) makes Aang seem weirdly dismissive in that moment

Also... I just realized while typing this, but did they give us an ending to Hei Bai being in pain? Did I completely forget the resolution to that or was it not shown?

I don't like that Zuko chose to fight in the Agni Kai. Seeing him on the ground begging forgiveness and THAT'S the kid Ozai scars and banishes is way more impactful than "he fought but didn't go all out"

This shit went off the rails in episode 7. Why is Yue a fox who just chills in the spirit world? What happened to Tui and La? Push and pull? Yin and Yang? I got confused somewhere along the way

Am I the only one who felt the Yue and Sokka kiss came out of nowhere? She literally said she called off her betrothal when she was 16 (before meeting Sokka) because that dude wasn't the right guy. But then the kiss immediately after implies Sokka is the right guy??? The guy you didn't know existed??? Or are we supposed to infer that she fell in love with him in the spirit world? Either one is so bad pleasssseee

I infinitely prefer Zuko trying to save Zhao and Zhao choosing to die out of sheer stubbornness, compared to Iroh killing Zhao to save Zuko. Like yeah, he'd do anything for Zuko, but I felt that crossed a line (and was less impactful)

Assorted Thoughts

They mentioned the mother of faces, are we gonna see Zuko’s mom get addressed at some point? Or was that just a wink and a nod for fans who know?

The kids are pretty good actors but Katara’s sometimes feels like she's… in a school play. For lack of a better description. She's not bad, it just doesn't always feel natural or as expressive as she could be

Yue's actress on the other hand... look I don't like insulting child actors but her performance was not my favourite

Meanwhile, I loved the casting for Zuko and Aang. I like this slightly-less-angry Zuko, and Aang's actor has such a sweet face that it hurt me to see him sad

I wish we got to see an Agni Kai between Zuko and Zhao. Simply because establishing it early helps introduce us to this idea. It makes it more impactful when Ozai declares Zuko must fight, since we now know what that entails

I feel like the series is at its best when it's doing it’s own thing (the Gyatso scenes, Suki's new characterization, Lu Ten's funeral) and is at its weakest when it's trying to copy the original

#atla #atla live action #natla #zuko #aang #sokka #katara #azula

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ladykailitha · 1 year

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If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 14

Hey guys, I meant to put this up this morning but I wanted to give the finale of What Do Shovels Dig? Graves a chance to shine before I put out this next part.

I am such a Steve has an abusive father and a neglectful mother fan. It’s like my bread and butter when it comes to Steve’s parents. Only Allison Harrington put her designer clad foot down and said, “No!” There was even a point that I thought about not having this part in the story at all. But I realized that this is where Eddie starts to rescue Steve and Steve’s mother had to be a part of that.

Also, also! I think it would be absolutely hilarious if in the last episode we get to see Steve’s parents and they’re both former 80s darlings and heartthrobs. My vote is on Ally Sheedy and Rob Lowe. Because they LOOK they could be Steve’s parents.

Anyway, enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Robin cornered him in his bedroom. “You cannot leave anything out!”

Steve laughed. “You were right. He was interested.”

She hit him. “That was more than just interest! He said he loved you.”

“Did you miss the part I said I love him first?” Steve said, shaking his head.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook for that!” she squealed. “I want a play by play for what happened.”

So Steve told her everything.

“He said he loved you first?” Robin asked. “I knew he was flirting with you! Didn’t I say?”

Steve laughed. “I already admitted it. What more do you want?”

“I still can’t believe you got a boyfriend before I got a girlfriend,” she whined.

Steve grinned. “I told you I had game.”

Robin’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s gross.”

Steve laid down on his bed on his stomach, and propped himself on his elbows. “I didn’t know it could feel this way. It’s so much different than when I was with Nancy.”

Robin sat down next to him and curled her hand in his hair. “I would imagine that some of it is because it’s a guy, some of it being Eddie and some of it just being new all around.”

Steve nodded. “Am I rushing this?”

Robin thought for a moment. “I’m not going to lie. Probably a little. But when you both survived something you shouldn’t have, it’s a little hard not see why you wouldn’t want to jump in with both feet. Just as long as you know how far deep it goes, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Steve rolled over on his back and flung out his arms. “Just being with him feels me with a warmth I didn’t know I was missing. Which is not to say I don’t love you or the kids or anything like that. What you and I have is special. No doubt about that. But this is special in a different way.”

She laid down next to him and he wrapped her in his arms. “I think you finally found what you were looking for.”

He hummed curiously.

“Remember when I said we should combine because you didn’t know what you were looking for but had all the moves and I had zero moves but knew what I wanted?”

He nodded. “Ahh.”

Robin scoffed. “Now I just need to steal your moves.”

“I don’t think taking Vicki to a Metallica concert is going to cut it,” Steve teased.

Robin lurched up and grabbed his pillow. She began hitting him with it as he fended her off laughing hysterically.

She suddenly stopped. “Maybe not a concert, but I could take her somewhere fun and see if she gets the message.”

Steve smiled. “See? There you go.”

She settled back down into his arms. “I am happy for you, you know.”

“I do know,” he murmured.

They fell asleep like that, still dressed in each other’s arms.

Steve wakes to the phone ringing. He almost decided to to let it ring when through the fog of sleep the memory that Eddie was going to call pierces through and he’s immediately scrambling over Robin to answer the phone.

“Hello?”

“Steven, is that anyway to greet your father!” came the sharp voice on the other end.

Steve looked over at his alarm clock and frowned. It was barely after seven in the morning.

“Sorry, Dad,” he said. “The phone woke me up.”

“Lazing about on a week day?” Mr Harrington snapped. “I raised you better than that!”

“Dad...” Steve groaned. “I know the hospital called you. Sleep is something that happens when you’ve been hurt. Plus, it’s just after seven. My work doesn’t open until ten, I get up at eight.”

Robin looked at him nervously chewing on her thumb.

Mr Harrington harrumphed. “I suppose so. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

Steve sighed. “What’s up? Are you and Mom okay?”

“We’re fine,” Mr Harrington said. “We heard about the earthquake and we’re coming home.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up and Robin squeaked.

“Is there someone with you, Steven?” Mr Harrington asked.

Steve gulped, trying to force down the bile that had risen in his throat. “Just my co-worker. They stayed the night so we could drive into work together.”

“I wish you would get a girl and settle down, Steven,” Mr Harrington complained. “You mother wants grandchildren.”

“I–I...” he stammered, looking over at Robin for support. “I’m seeing someone right now, but I’m still barely a teenager. I’m not in any rush to get married.”

Robin gave him a thumbs up.

Mr Harrington sighed. “I suppose young boys do need to sow their wild oats somewhere. We’ll be home this weekend. Please make sure the house is spotless, won’t you?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” And then he hung up.

“Fuck. I should have known my luck would run out.”

Robin tilted her head to the side. “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, scrambling to get up.

“If you’re anything like the rest of us,” Robin explained waving her hands, “you were given hush money over all the shit that went down.”

Steve frowned. “I mean I guess so. I never really thought about it.”

“The reason I still have to work to make ends meet is because I’m still under eighteen. I don’t get access to it until then.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “I mean when my dad said he cut me off and that I had to go get a job, I never even thought about the money that was mine. Usually I would just cash my check and keep it all in cash. Nothing went into savings because I didn’t trust my dad not to take it.”

“I think you need to call your bank and find out exactly how much money you do have,” she said.

He nodded. “I like the idea of having more money than I thought but how does this help me out of having my parents come home this weekend?”

Robin grinned.

Steve had to admit it was a sound plan. And it turned out that he had quite a lot. As in over three hundred thousand dollars a lot.

Played right and Steve would never have to work a day in his life if he didn’t want to. It was quite the eye-opener.

He sat down with a financial planner and got things setup properly and away from his dad’s hands. And then moved all but the visible belongings out of his room and into storage.

Steve had even timed it so that neighbors though that he was donating stuff to the aid instead of moving. He kept his clothes, but had two unzipped suitcases under his bed in case he needed to pack in a hurry.

All this while working, volunteering, and looking for a place to live. A lot people offered their house, Eddie and Robin included. Which Steve loved. And they would make great temporary places to bunk down if he needed to bail fast. But he wanted his own place too.

So Eddie and Robin would take him house hunting. Yep. A house. Steve had the money and it wasn’t as though he could leave while the kids and Eddie still needed him.

They hadn’t found a place yet by the time his parents came home, but that was to be expected.

As soon as his parents walked through the door Steve knew that having an escape plan in place was a good idea. Because immediately his mother went flying toward him.

“Steven!” she cooed. “What on earth happened to your neck?”

Steve took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He opened them slowly. “As the doctor would have told you had you bothered to answer or return his call, I was attacked by feral animals and was almost torn to pieces.” He lift the front of his shirt to show the gauze still covering the ginormous gash in his side.

Mrs Harrington gasped and even Mr Harrington looked surprised.

Steve lowered his shirt. “That’s not including the road rash on back from when they dragged me across the ground,” he continued. “Or the many concussions I’ve had over the years. Or any number of injuries that I have suffered and you never bothered to come home for.”

Mrs Harrington turned to her husband and slowly advanced on him. “Why wasn’t I told about any of this?”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. Okay, he hadn’t been expecting that. He had assumed that she knew, too and didn’t care. But even from behind Steve could tell she was pissed. Her back was rigid, her shoulders were squared and every step she took toward her husband was like a tiger stalking its prey.

And that right there was why Steve put his mother down as a reference and not his dad. His dad was a blowhard. His mother? Was a badass former district attorney and was still respected in the community.

Mr Harrington was digging the hole deeper for himself. “I figured it was just some jumped up doctor looking to milk us for all its worth.”

Mrs Harrington stopped moving toward him and let out a slowly angry breath. She whirled around. “When is your next doctor’s appointment, Steven?”

Steve blinked for a moment. “Next Tuesday? They want to make sure nothing is infected.”

She nodded curtly. She pulled a large manila envelope out of her designer purse and handed it to Mr Harrington. “These are divorce papers, Harold. You will be speaking to my lawyers in the morning.” She turned to Steve. “I’m hungry, darling. Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I mean, of course. Just let me grab my coat.”

Mr Harrington bristled. “You walk out that door, Steven and you won’t be allowed back in it.”

Steve nodded. “Right. Mom, can you give me five minutes to get some things together?”

Mrs Harrington smiled. “Of course, sweetie.”

Mr Harrington’s jaw dropped and she turned back to him. “If you even so much as touch any of my things, I will have you charged with theft. I have pictures and documentation on where everything is, so don’t even try to snoop.”

He continued to sputter as Steve came down the stairs with both suitcases.

“Do you have everything you need, dear?” Mrs Harrington asked, eyeing the two small suitcases.

Steve laughed. “Yeah. I figured he was going to pull this bullshit this weekend so I moved most of my stuff out already.”

She laughed. Bright and clear as bell. Steve smiled. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in such a long time. She took one the suitcases and linked her arm with Steve’s free hand and they walked out the door together.

***

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #season 4 fix it #ladykailtiha writes

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been-around-seen-things · 6 months

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CW: discussion of suicide

I’ve been mulling over a number of thoughts after eps 1-3 about Ed’s storyline, and I want to get them down before the new episodes come out, so here goes.

I’ve seen so many folks hard hit by Ed’s suicidality, needing to mind their mental health before rewatching, and—yeah. Folks who know me as a fic writer and who have read A Bug to Remember can glean some idea of where this topic has touched me. My own lowest time was literally two decades ago, so for me it’s not so much about that.

I just keep thinking about the okayness Ed performs in ep 2, which obviously isn’t entirely convincing, but nevertheless covers up that he’s already made his decision.

Which makes me think about someone I mentored and who died by suicide in 2019. Her name was Katie. I’m going to speak her name here because talking about her and thinking about her keeps her present for me.

Katie was deeply complicated, but, well, so is Ed, obviously. Ep 2 reminded me so vividly of her performance of okayness. She was professionally successful, organized, seemed to have it all together. I know others who also loved her have had the very natural “I should have known” reaction, but I don’t necessarily feel that way. For people like me whom she saw as mentors, she very deliberately hid the cracks, the pain, the suffering. Looking back on it now, I can see how our closeness was more about how much she made me feel comfortable sharing myself, while she remained pretty thoroughly walled off.

All of this makes me think about all the lies, the terrible lies our brains tell us. I talked in sort of a jumbled way on Twitter about the stories Ed tells and tries to tell about himself. The stories we tell and believe about ourselves are so fundamental to our very existence, and Ed has so much trouble believing any positive story about himself.

We first see him trapped in the narrative of Blackbeard, in which he is a “ghost.” He imagines himself as Stede Bonnet, but that’s a violent story with an intended murderous end. Jeff the Accountant is a story that’s fun at first, but the fallout just ends up hitting him where he’s most sensitive, his deepest feelings of unworthiness.

The most believable story for him is the Kraken. Clearly he wants something else, but it feels like literally the only option.

He tries to imagine himself as Jeff the Innkeeper, but he can’t keep from being a dick to himself long enough to even fully imagine how that story could play out.

His only positive stories, of course, are with Stede: first, playfully imagining himself as a chef, someone who can do anything. That one ends happily, albeit only temporarily—the brief dream of being co-captains. And then the possibility of running off to China together—but that’s an option that means Ed leaving his whole identity behind. It’s a running away, not an integration of the stories he carries. And then losing the possibility of that story—well, we know what happens.

And so. Here we are. Ed is alive, and he needs a new story that doesn’t cause himself and everyone else around him so much suffering. Ngl I had a real hard time on my first watch with how much pain there was all around. But that’s because, as always, this show is emotionally truthful even as the events are sometimes preposterous. I’m excited to see what other story possibilities are there for Ed. What he can find himself able to believe.

#back to my brain being 99% pirates at all times #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #edward teach #blackbeard

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lightwise · 1 month

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TBB S3E6 Reactions

Alright, in lieu of an analysis this week, you guys get some extra long reactions from me. Spoilers for Infiltration under the cut!

- Pantora: These onion-top spires are very cool.

- Nice poncho Rex but we can all see those tally marked scratches peeking out from underneath it.

- The Clone X theme hits HARD even when it’s only the first notes of it

- GS-8! Senator Singh! Howzer! Man the Kiners weren’t kidding with the Leo meme

- Okay Senator Singh maybe if you’ve been in hiding you shouldn’t be wearing your native cultural garb in case you stick out 🤓

- Tea?? Riyo?? I wanna have tea with her ☺️ also I want that teapot haha

- Always love the political aftermath of the clone wars and the humanizing of the separatist movement

- Singh has a little helmet recorder like Tech does…interesting

- One clone X boy coming up

- RIP Greer

- Rex is 🔥 catching that grenade…thankfully not literally

- Stripey helmet—that’s Nemec or Fireball, right??

- It really took 3 stuns to get that CX to drop. What has Hemlock been doing to them?? Are they pumped up with something to give them more endurance?

- Fireball mention!! So that’s Nemec with them.

- Wow Teth is gorgeous. I would not have remembered what this outpost means to Rex if it hadn’t come up during the trailer

- A clone base!!! This is SO FREAKING COOL (and has so many implications for the fic I’ve been writing)

- What is with the little knee socks on these bodysuits. They just look so silly

- Although Howzer’s extra pouches are also up there for hilarity points

- Ew they yanked out his tooth

- “You’re still one of us” is he though? Is there anything original left in there?

- Part of me feels like Scorch has been brainwashed too.

- “Why have I been activated” lmaoooo grumpy boi

- Internal homing device?? Greatttt

- How Rex says Tantiss 🥺

- Howzer ready to throw some hands (first of many)

- Rex’s face when he’s worried about Omega 🥺🥺🥺 he just wants to protect her and the Batch

- This is the story of Omega and her toothpick 🤣🤣

- Crosshair shaking his head at her even though he probably gave it to her 🤣 (also dear lord how does he look SO PRETTY here nursing that toothpick with his eyes glowing in the dark. Ugh I can’t with this man

- Gregor mention!

- Man Echo is not wanting to answer Hunter’s questions lol

- Omega is approaching her teen years now, Hunter. Of course she’s going to be copying her emo big (little) brother. He looks both glad that they’re bonding and also worried that they’re the reason Rex needs to talk to them.

- Still think Rex looks naked without his pauldron. I do love the detail that the paint on his shoulder underneath it would be much brighter and less worn than everywhere else, though

- “Good to see you, Rex” 🥹

- Hunter and Crosshair’s little glance.

- “Interesting contacts” what the heck does that mean Echo?? What have you been doing acquiring illegal weapons parts?? I mean they’re not illegal but they’re not exactly the norm either

- Their little salutes 🥹

- Lil stealth bomber jet vibes on this ship. Yes I will admit that looks like the Tech Turn as he touches down

- “You’re gonna have to back down Captain” the boys are so back. Only Hunter gets to mess with his brother and vice versa

- Lol everyone thinking that if you’ve been on Tantiss you automatically have the coordinates of where it’s located. Hemlock’s too smart for that, guys

- Crosshair looking solely at Hunter when he says “I’m not loyal to the Empire any longer” 😭😭😭 like his approval and understanding is the only one that matters

- Poor Omega does not want to talk about what she’s been through 💔

- Kind of surprised they don’t know what M-count means but it also makes sense. Obviously Rex has heard it mentioned from Anakin or Ahsoka but they don’t know the implications

- Okay, Rex, for the rest of this episode—I love you but WHERE are your security measures???? How does CX just waltz right in the front door and you don’t even have an alarm or key code or anything???

- Gregor canonically cooks!! Looking at you DJ 😄

- Crosshair’s description of the CX program is TERRIFYING. He can barely make himself talk about it. He was close to becoming one of them?? How is he walking around with all that knowledge and Hemlock didn’t wipe his mind if it? None of this is good. My poor boy.

- Gosh Rex sounds so tired.

- Crosshair sounds TERRIFIED.

- How does CX run so fast?

- Interesting that they give the woozy perspective of the other CX as Crosshair comes into the room

- Okay let me reiterate for you all—Crosshair is absolutely terrified here. Similar to Tech, this man is almost unflappable. If he’s scared they all should be hightailing it immediately. What the hell has Hemlock done to these clones??

- Does the CX truly recognize Crosshair? And why would Hemlock still use the designation “brother” as part of their programming? All this mind control stuff is making the chips look like child’s play

- Okay but in all seriousness, what if most of the clones being put through the undercover program still have their chips installed and those somehow can be reactivated or enhanced again? Crosshair does not, therefore it’s much harder for Hemlock to persuade him

- That sniper shot was insane. As was that creepy laugh.

- Some of the dialogue in these episodes is feeling unnecessary. Omega pointing out where shots are coming from is a little obvious

- Fireball 😢😢😢 at least you lived up to your name

- And goodbye monastery

- Woooooolffeeee. Armor as amazing as always. What the heck has he been up to to get put on missions like this. We’re one step closer to getting the old man Seelos gang together.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #tbb season 3 #tbb season 3 spoilers #the bad batch season 3 spoilers

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leafykat · 2 months

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ATLA LIVE ACTION RANT/MANIFESTO

After watching it I started typing and couldn't stop. Sorry it's really really long and probably not very coherent.

(Since I wrote this, Big Joel put up a vid on his side channel talking about his thoughts on the first episode and he had a lot of points I agree with so watch that too if you’re interested) <- eta: ok jk sorry it already got taken off youtube it's only on his patreon now

I really dislike starting the story with the beginning of the war. It's like they don’t trust the audience enough to care about the protagonists without laying out all the Big Important World Context out right at the start, or they don’t trust us enough to understand non-linear storytelling. I’m trying really hard not to just hate on changes simply for being different than the show I grew up with, because god knows I have my own issues with it. There are scenes that are nearly shot-for-shot, line-for-line remakes of the original, which makes the parts they change really jarring and frustrating. I don't mind the way they combined some episodes or storylines or changed some details, like, June being the one who hits on Iroh instead of the other way around, but other changes just feel like they either miss something fundamental (to me) about the characters or the story or are just… arbitrary, which is almost worse.

One thing that REALLY frustrated me right from the start was that Aang wasn’t actually trying to run away. He goes flying to “clear his head” and gets caught in a storm coincidentally right as he says “ok Appa let’s head home”. Why? Everyone treats him like a coward anyway. Everyone is way meaner to him than in the cartoon about something that, in this version of the story, objectively was not his fault. Why? In the cartoon, he feels intense shame that he wasn’t there for everyone, even though he was twelve and about to be taken from the only person that wanted him to have a childhood, and he got so overwhelmed and scared by what the world expected from him that he tried to run away from it. In the live action, he gets to reunite with the spirit of Gyatso, who says, “you couldn’t have done anything if you had stayed. You just would have died,” (paraphrasing bc I can’t be bothered to give it more views just to get exact quotes) which is fine, I don’t think he needed a spirit world reunion with Gyatso but I can accept it. But if that’s what that gives Aang closure, what is the point of changing him to be less responsible for disappearing? In the cartoon Katara is the one who reassures Aang and helps him process his guilt, representing the people of the present who he can still help. The live action has the voice of the past, the people that he’s ‘failed’, reaching forward in time to absolve him of any sins. And remember that in this version he literally was trying to go home. It just feels like they’re trying to remove moral complexity from his character.

Less importantly (except to me maybe) I think that showing us the Air Temple pre-genocide removes impact of seeing it for the first time in the cartoon. I loved Aang hyping it up to Katara and Sokka, unwilling to believe that it could have fallen. It almost makes the viewer think maybe some of them could have survived in secret. Then, the contrast between his idyllic memories and reality start to sink in. It was an incredibly hard-hitting moment, dulled in live action by the audience having seen exactly what happened to the temple already (including an incredibly hamfisted “you can’t beat us while we have the power of the comet!” line from who I think was Sozin.) I think Momo is pretty cute though.

Another thing that pissed me off was the way they handled the Agni Kai: They combine Zuko's duels with Zhao and Ozai into one, where Zuko not only fights back against his father but gets an opportunity to deliver (presumably) a winning blow and hesitates. This choice weakens important aspects of his backstory and, to me, flattens his relationship with Ozai: 1) That he was never a prodigy firebender like Azula, feeding the inferiority complex that Ozai fostered 2) The Agni Kai was meant to be public humiliation, meant to teach Zuko ‘respect’. It was in front of hundreds of people, and it was a thirteen-year-old child against a full grown firebending master. Zuko prostrates himself and begs his father for mercy. His refusal to even fight embarrasses Ozai by exemplifying the 'weakness' Zuko's mother 'instilled' in him. In his duel with Zhao, Zuko makes a conscious choice to be merciful despite Zhao telling him to “do it” and kill him. Despite knowing how the fire nation views it as weakness, as cowardice, especially in this specific setting. It foreshadows his later choices, and shows his innate kindness. Combining the two duels doesn't allow us to see that parallel nor that growth. Reducing his act of mercy to a mere hesitation in the moment of victory, furthermore, reduces his agency.

In fact, the adaptation softens a lot of Zuko's role as an antagonist, giving most of his actually villainous actions from the cartoon to other characters. They keep him capturing Aang in the South Pole, but Zhao leads the attack on Kyoshi village, they remove the episode with the pirates (s1e9), combine aspects of episode s1e15 ‘Bato of the Water Tribe’ with ‘the Blue Spirit’ (s1e13) and ‘the winter solstice’ (s1e7/8) removing three instances of Zuko capturing or attacking Aang in favor of one with Zhao capturing and Zuko rescuing him. But I guess they add a fight in Omashu. Look, this is inevitable as a result of combining 20 episodes into 8. I don’t really mind streamlining a lot of these episodes, nor removing others (having episodes like ‘the great divide’ and ‘the fortuneteller’ only referenced as rumors Zuko hears in a bar is cute, to be honest), though the change to the Bato episode where Sokka merely has a flashback of his father implying he thinks Sokka is an incompetent warrior is a really unnecessary and bad change, to me. But they took out almost every instance of Zuko posing an actual threat to Aang and replaced it with one fight scene in Omashu. To me, what it feels like is the show runners know Zuko is going to become a Good Guy and thus they don’t want to make him act too Bad.

On the topic of Kyoshi island: giving Aang a reason to go there aside from wanting to ride the giant Koi, whatever. Removing Sokka’s chauvinism, okay, I guess. But it ends up replaced with extremely awkward flirting between him and Suki that feels motivated by nothing beyond each being the first non-relative young adult of their preferred gender either one has ever met. Whether or not you want to have Sokka start off sexist, and that could be a whole conversation on its own, him humbling himself enough to ask Suki for instruction was an important moment of growth for him that he doesn’t really have in this version. And they don’t even put Sokka in the dress and makeup!!! BOO! Also minor moment but I think it’s also sus for the show to have Suki remove her makeup as soon as it’s time for her to be a love interest and then just not wear it again. BOO!! She looked really cool though. It’s not like I think her first appearance in the cartoon is full of depth or whatever, and I think the cartoon turned her into a cardboard cutout as soon as she became a love interest, but it’s like the live action clipped through a wall straight to my least favorite parts of s3 Suki. It’s just disappointing. I also don’t like Aang being able to just talk to Kyoshi and his other past lives so easily but that might just be my cartoon-purist talking.

I didn’t mind putting Jet and Teo into Omashu, even though I think Danny Pudi’s ‘I had no choice’ justification for working for the Fire Nation holds up less well when he’s in a position of privilege in an Earth Kingdom stronghold as opposed to protecting a community of refugees in an isolated air temple. I don’t think they needed to add the Cave of Lovers plot from season 2 into the mix though. Not only that, but to rework that plotline so that 1) Aang isn’t even there, 2) it’s Sokka’s idea to put out their lights and follow the crystals, 3) that’s not actually The Solution 4) badgermoles can sense…. Emotions???????? Sorry that’s so fucking stupid it makes me angry. They include the legend where Oma and Shu learned earthbending from the badgermoles, so why would these giant creatures have learned to sense human emotion instead of the pre-existing explanation from the cartoon: sensing the world through the earth. You know, the thing that connects them to Toph’s earthbending. I guess setting up stuff as far away as… next season… isn’t important. They used the stuff from the season 2 episode “the swamp” for aspects of the winter solstice plot anyway, which is where Aang originally had a vision of Toph and thus was able to identify her as an earthbender in spite of her appearance. I guess they can come up with something else, but it’s just a decision that feels arbitrary. Sokka could have had his flashback without the spirit vision, but since this is before he meets and loses Yue they needed something, I guess. At this point I’m describing these changes not necessarily because I think they’re inherently bad but because I want to describe how fragile this jenga tower is getting, and how unnecessary they feel.

Ultimately it’s like… the things they’re the most faithful to are all the most surface-level easter egg references, while missing or changing the actual soul of the source material. Gran Gran gives the opening monologue word-for-word because Fans Will Get It. They include Bumi’s rock candy trick and lettuce leaf joke but make him resentful and angry at Aang for no reason I can understand. Sokka isn’t sexist anymore, he just has issues where his dad apparently thinks he ‘shouldn’t have lives in his hands’. Ozai is… wait- is he tearing up while he scars Zuko’s face?

I know we all love Daniel Dae Kim but we did not need Ozai so much this season, let alone Azula, let alone Mai and Ty Lee. We especially didn’t need a scene where Ozai praises Zuko to Azula while belittling her. For the record, because people defending this scene seem to think the issue is that the rest of us fail to understand that Ozai is playing his children against each other: That is not the issue. It’s that he did not play his children against each other in this specific way. He uses Azula to show Zuko how much he fails to measure up and threaten his position as heir, and he uses the example of Zuko’s failure to keep Azula in line. If she’s good enough and Zuko is bad enough maybe she’ll become heir. After all, that’s what happened to Ozai and Iroh. They are allowed to change this dynamic in adaptation but personally I think it’s a change for the worse, and the shot of tears in his eyes as he abuses his son lends credibility to an interpretation that maybe he does want Zuko to succeed. Lol. The cartoon focuses on Iroh’s reaction, his inability to watch, instead of Ozai’s… emotional conflict? Or whatever.

Katara and Sokka getting stuck in the spirit world as a replacement for their fever in The Blue Spirit is fine, I think condensing that plot and the winter solstice works decently. It’s fine that they changed Aang’s motivation for finding Roku to be getting info on how to save his friends instead of getting crucial info about Sozin’s Comet. After all, they clumsily introduced that in episode 1. It’s honestly fine (Read with as much cope in my voice as you want.) Combining that with Zuko’s half of The Storm is also…. Okay, even if I’ve already described why I don’t like how they adapted Zuko’s backstory. What frustrates me is that The Storm parallels Aang and Zuko’s backstories in a way that works really well with the events in The Blue Spirit. In fact, they’re back-to-back episodes. But the live action has moved Aang’s backstory to the beginning of the first episode. So instead of getting to see how they’re both constrained by the roles and times they were born into, and how heavily others’ expectations weigh on both of them, we have to have Aang explicitly spell it out for us. Rewatching these two episodes of the cartoon I was just really struck by how efficient the storytelling is. All Aang has to say after he’s saved Zuko is that he misses his friend from the Fire Nation, and that he wonders if he and Zuko could have been friends if they’d been born into a different time. All Zuko has to do is attack him in response. Because we’ve just seen why they can’t be friends in this time, in this world. The live action has to create some plot point about Aang having stolen Zuko’s diary, and Zuko having researched Airbender culture or something. They bond a little bit over brushes before Aang goes like ‘why don’t you turn against your family?’ The conversation (before that part) is cute, just like, not a good replacement for trusting the audience.

I guess once we’ve gotten this far it doesn’t matter much that Katara and Sokka have been captured by Koh, because of course they were. Yeah, they changed how it works, yeah, now he steals your face once you’ve succumbed to despair or something. Whatever. At this point it feels like nitpicking to point out that what made Koh so scary was that he would steal your face if you showed him any emotion at all. Who cares anymore.

^ok I wrote most of that before having seen the last two episodes, which cover the last three episodes of the first season of the cartoon. Dude it got even worse somehow. It’s been a couple days and my friends and I rewatched all of s1 of the original show in the meantime.

First of all, the changes to the dynamic between Hahn, Sokka, and Yue were completely inexplicable to me. Yue gets nominally ‘empowered’ in the sense that she’s no longer trapped in an arranged marriage to a total shithead, but at the same time they made Hahn seem like a… genuinely good guy? He’s humble, asks Sokka for his expertise, and nobly accepts that Yue broke up with him. When asked about it, Yue says ‘he’s great, he’s just not the guy of my dreams’, before kissing Sokka. (They also reveal that she was the sexy fox spirit that flirted with Sokka in the spirit world —I didn’t mention it before because I didn’t think it mattered at the time— so I guess we are meant to believe that Sokka is the boy of her dreams. Which we know from these two and a half conversations that manage to be way less cute than the awkward/shy flirting from the original show.) Even if they wanted to completely change Hahn’s character, Yue’s conflict in the original show was between her heart and what she saw as her responsibility to her people. They could just as easily have kept that element: that she isn’t in love with Hahn, but that for Political Reasons can’t just break things off. That’s way more interesting! But I do love a forbidden romance, so maybe that’s just me. The adaptation does say that they were at one point betrothed, which raises more questions than it answers. If both of their parents were anticipating this marriage so much that they set it up years in advance, why were they okay with her just breaking things off because she didn’t like him like that? Are arranged marriages in the Northern Water Tribe (I’m so sorry I forgot the name they gave it in this adaptation) purely meant to be love matches? There’s no financial or political element at all? Even for a princess? Whatever. Hahn still dies, this time it’s just offscreen. This time I’m actually a little sad for him, if just for his wasted potential.

They actually take out the engagement necklace stuff altogether, including the history between Pakku and Katara’s grandma, and the story of how and why she fled. I don’t really know why but maybe they thought “you lost the so-called love of your life to backward practices” was a weak reason to change his mind. So instead they have it that he doesn’t change his mind but it turns out Katara doesn’t need a master anyway because she’s already good enough to be a master! Despite not having been able to waterbend ‘more than a thimbleful’ before meeting Aang, and us not really getting to see her train at all. Gran Gran gave her the waterbending scroll she stole from the pirates in the cartoon, so I guess we can assume that contained everything you’d ever need to know. She loses the fight but wins the hearts and minds of the people. The women of the tribe support her when she goes against Pakku and go “we want to fight too!” Oh, did I mention this is all after they realize the Fire Navy is at their doorstep, so it’s less a fight about the right to learn waterbending than about the right to fight in war. And then again the issue of Katara needing to learn from Pakku is sidestepped by her magically being good enough now on her own. I don’t actually mind the change to include other women from the North standing up against sexism but to be honest I don’t understand taking out the betrothal stuff. It was a deliberate parallel in the cartoon- women trapped in loveless arranged marriages and also forbidden from learning any waterbending aside from healing. But whatever, it’s a choice. I can live with it.

What I don’t like is the way they’ve undermined Katara’s journey in season 1. Aang teaches Katara how to waterbend at first, and she also doesn’t learn to heal on her own before an elder shows her how to do it. In the cartoon, she’s been trying and figuring things out on her own all her life. Her hunger to find someone to teach her is a major motivator for why she wants to go to the North Pole. We see her struggle, get intensely frustrated and jealous that Aang picks up waterbending more naturally than she does, and work really hard at it. Her dedication and hard work are what Pakku eventually praises about her when he teaches her. He compares her to Aang, who is naturally talented but distracted. This is after an indeterminate amount of time, but whatever, condensed timeline, 8 episodes, whatever. We don’t even see Aang waterbend at all this season, which is kind of wild to me. I guess if you take out the Summer Solstice Comet deadline to master all four elements (which they did) Aang doesn’t really need to rush. Instead they kind of just have Aang have a thing of like “I have my friends to help me” which is….. ok….. Oh wait, is this why they don’t care that much about foreshadowing Toph? Are they just not gonna bother having Aang learn the elements and just have her show up and join them for whatever reason? Is that why they just totally removed ‘The Deserter’? Wait sorry, I’m assuming they’re planning that far in advance at all, my bad.

Okay also like I have to talk about this because it bothers me so much. Zhao was handled so badly. Whatever, have a Fire sage just give him the moon/ocean spirit exposition in a flashback instead of the way it unfolded in the cartoon (I guess we’re already not bothering to set up the great library since the gaang already met wan shi tong, I guess that’s… fine… Appa can get captured a different way, if they’re even going to bother with that plotline in season 2. If they’re even going to do a season 2.) Sure, the moon and ocean spirits are only in the physical realm and vulnerable for ‘only one night’ now as opposed to permanently. Zhao knows this but not that they’re fish. Okay. Whatever. Blah blah blah. Those are personal nitpicks. But what really gets me is that in the end, Iroh and Zuko kill Zhao. Or rather, Zuko doesn’t finish him off, Zhao tries to attack when his back is turned, and Iroh finishes him off (similar to the way their Agni Kai in the cartoon plays out.) In the cartoon, Zhao and Zuko are fighting, Aang-as-Ocean-Spirit grabs Zhao, and Zuko reaches out to try and help Zhao, which Zhao refuses. He chooses to meet his fate at the hands of the spirits he provoked rather than swallow his pride. This is such a good conclusion to Zhao’s character! The live action also fails to set Zhao up as a formidable firebender, which is also not strictly necessary but I think complements other elements of his character well. His first episode in the cartoon includes the Agni Kai between him and Zuko, establishing Zhao both as a firebending master and as someone who values his ambition and pride above all else. In s1e16, ‘the deserter’ we see him as the embodiment of fire’s destructive hunger: he is baited into destroying his own ships in his desire to “win” his fight with Aang. He gloats of how his siege of the North Pole will earn him a place in the history books, and to win he is willing to kill the moon, against Iroh’s exhortations. In the live action, we get a weird revelation that he was working with Azula, and she was the mastermind behind a lot of his plans? Huh? He also “reveals” that Ozai was only ever using Zuko to “motivate his sister”, which is both incredibly heavy-handed and completely redundant. I guess I should mention that the finale has a couple scenes thrown in where Azula is doing firebending training to pass some kind of arbitrary Test Ozai has set for her, while Mai and Ty Lee watch and tell her that her dad is like, being way too hard on her and she knows he’s manipulating her right? Thanks girls!

Anyway, I guess since the live-action completely removed the golden child/failure dynamic between Azula and Zuko we needed something to replace it. The “my father always said Azula was born lucky. He said I was lucky to be born” line summed up that relationship dynamic nicely. Oh well, who needs it. Instead Zuko is good enough to have beaten Ozai in a duel at 13, but Ozai decided he was weak for hesitating. Meanwhile Azula is struggling to meet his expectations. He banished his heir on a mission that, for the last hundred years, was considered a complete dead-end, so that he could, uhhhhh, Motivate her when he miraculously started succeeding. Masterful gambit, sir. Okay sorry to harp on that again. Back to Zhao. Actually, what else is there to say. He has a couple funny lines but he’s just not the same guy at all on either a superficial or deeper level. It’s so disappointing. It’s also just a really weak choice to make Iroh and Zuko responsible for his death. Maybe they couldn’t figure out how to make the special effects look good when the ocean spirit picked him up. It just misses the point of Zhao’s ultimate tragedy, to me. The man so lacking in self-control, so ambitious, so assured in his own superiority, that he saw the spirits themselves as his prey. To be destroyed by the forces he tried to destroy is so poetic! Instead let’s water down Zuko’s mercy and Iroh’s pacifism.

This is all I can remember at this point aside from nitpicks. Do I think the Koh vs Kuruk backstory needed to be spelled out like that? No. Did we need to almost have Momo DIE to get Sokka and Yue to the oasis? Not really. I don’t think the way Zhao “assassinated” Zuko in the live action made as much sense, but we took out the pirates so oh well.

When you get to a certain point I guess the question becomes ‘how much can you change in an adaptation and still call it an adaptation’. What do adaptations owe to their source material? Where does the spirit of a story reside? If the same plot beats happen, does it matter if characters are different? If the characters are faithful, does it matter if events are moved around? If the destination is the same, how much does it matter how you get there? What do I personally want to see in a ‘live-action’ adaptation of Avatar, this show that I loved so much growing up? Well, assuming that “don’t make one” isn’t a possibility, I would have preferred they follow more in One Piece’s footsteps. That adaptation wasn’t perfect either, and it condensed around 100 chapters of manga into 8 hours, but it really felt like it got the characters right. Avatar had a tough job too, but it condensed 7 hours 40 minutes of cartoon into 8 hours of- wait. No. Well at least we got the cabbage merchant.

#u guys dont even know how much the original shaped my adolescence....#for that reason i was probably the most annoying person possible to watch the remake with #thank u to my friends

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