#it still doesnt feel real. three almost four years later. i miss him so much. it doesnt feel real.

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 2

2. i been fronting that it’s just for the summer

Summary: So you’re together, sort of, and it’s great! Everyone seems to be convinced, that’s not the issue. The issue comes when you fly to LA for filming, and you decide to stay with Colson, but the room only has one bed. And the paparazzi crash your first “date”. And he kisses you and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest, which is not supposed to happen because this isn’t a real relationship! But it’s fine. Probably. 

A/N: So bare with me, it’s a very long chapter. Also, pretend the Tunnel of Love remix by haroinfather came out before 2018 and not in 2019. Enjoy. 

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23

----

It feels like you’re braced for impact when you walk into rehearsals the day after you release the video. Douglas has already seen it, of course he has, he messages you minutes after it’s posted.

[Dig Doug: Not gonna say I Told You So, but im glad you’re happy. 🦆🦆]

It gets you to smile, despite your anxiety surrounding the whole situation.

“Now what?” Colson asked after the video was posted, sitting next to you on his bed. The duvet is so soft, and somehow the whole situation is so inherently soft. Maybe it’s that you’re both in hoodies and sweat pants. Maybe it’s that you’d just told the world that you’re dating. His eyes are so blue.

You phone goes off. 

His phone goes off. 

Both of you have Twitter muted, but even so, it needed to let you both know that you were getting a lot of mentions.

“Now we’re dating,” you say, flipping your phone over, while Colson picks his up, opening Twitter and beginning to scroll through his mentions. Where in the Hell were you meant to go from here.

“Alright, cool; you wanna get pizza or something?” He asks, simple as that, and it’s now you seem to realise that you’ve been so stressed from everything that had been happening that you hadn’t been remembering to feed yourself.

“Honestly, I’d love to.”

The next day, however, it’s the elephant in the room; the others don’t say anything, but everyone, even Douglas to some extent, was wondering how in the hell they had missed your apparent relationship. But it’s not awkward; you and Colson act the same as always, you take notes for Josy, and get coffee, and type away on your laptop. 

They break for lunch, and you look up from your work only to see Josy making a beeline for you, an intimidating look of determination written all over her face. Ah, here’s where the interrogation begins. Glancing over your shoulder you see Colson shoot you an amused, if concerned look, glancing to Josy. In response, you shrug; it can’t be helped.

“We need to talk,” Josy tells you, steers you from the room, across the parking lot, into a whole new building, where she paces for about three minutes, unable to look at you, hands basically pulling out her hair, all of which amuses you greatly. When she comes to a stop in front of you, it’s as if you can see the cogs of her brain turning, her fingers steepled in front of her mouth as she tries to order her thoughts.

“You know you’re my favourite assistant in the world and I treasure our friendship, right?” She asks, and you fix her with a fondly exasperated stare.

“Of course, you see fit to remind me every time I bring you coffee -”

“Then why, my little duck, my little goose, apple of my eye, enchilada of my bosom,” she says with an almost poisonous sweetness, looking you directly in the eye, “would you date one of my actors?” And you have to hold back your laughter in the face of her sincere and rather angry confusion.

“Josy, please,” you start, and she already looks like she wants to interrupt, “I like him is all, okay? I won’t be a distraction -” you can already see her trying to protest, but you hold up your hand to stop her, “and he won’t distract me; if anything, it means there’ll be no outside distractions, hopefully.”

“[Y/N] you test me,” Josy sighs deeply, scrubbing at her face, “how long?”

This gives you cause for hesitation, because neither you nor Colson had thought to get your whole story straight the night before. He had ordered room service and you’d just talked about music until you finally went back to your own room. An oversight, sure, but you had been glad to have a plan, and were happy to figure out the details later.

“A few weeks -” when you say this, Josy makes a choked, wheezing noise, and you pause, “since... uh, since he took us around the city at the end of the first week.”

“Does Douglas know?”

“He’s not my handler,” you fire off reflexively, and Josy winces, a little sheepish, “but yes.” You paused. “Now.”

Josy lets the whole conversation slide with some reluctance, and she asks you to get her lunch from the deli a few blocks away. You agree, partially because it’s your job, but mostly because you’re just glad to get out of the building and away from her exasperated, judgmental stares.

He’s corrupting you. It’s what the media thinks. It’s what Josy thinks. And something about the assumption is already starting to get under your skin. But right as you start to get truly annoyed by the subtext she had been blasting you with, you hear your phone chime.

[Colson: am i gonna get The Talk from my AD later on? Ducky: wot Colson: like u no... if you hurt my daughter im gonna hurt you Ducky: Josys not my mom??? shes like 3 years older than me???? Colson: its a joke. chill ducky. everything alright tho? Ducky: told her wed been dating since that night i filmed a few weeks ago Colson: smart. everyone thinks weve been together since then nyways Ducky: you want anything from the deli? Colson: what Ducky: im at the deli. u want a sandwich? Colson: yeh sure. surprise me. maybe chicken idk. webber wants a chocolate milk Ducky: milks bad for vocal cords Colson: he doesnt care 😈]

It makes you laugh. He makes you laugh. It’s as easy as that; you’re still friends, it’s just that you spend more time together, are closer, when you go out for dinner with the cast, he’s invariably beside you. You’re both always on time to rehearsals, and he keeps sending you selfies from costume and makeup tests, and it’s going fine, great even, despite all the nasty DMs you were still receiving. Of course the supportive ones always outweighed the negative, and even the negative didn’t really bother you, because it’s not as if there was a real relationship in jeopardy, so it actually took a lot of weight off your shoulders.

Filming is set to start on location in LA after about a month and a half of rehearsals, and while the first month had primarily been working on scenes, the extra fortnight you’d been there had been almost consistently rehearsing as a band for eight hours a day, six days a week. The day before you’re due to fly off, the whole cast looks exhausted at brunch. 

“Pass me the salt,” Colson yawns, half asleep with his head against the window of the cafe.

“It’s right in front of you,” you counter, knocking his knee with yours beneath the table.

“My arms don’t work,” he groaned, but he was smiling now, just a little. You look to the other cast members all enjoying their own respective breakfasts. Daniel’s on voice rest, despite the fact that they’re going to be using recordings of Motley Crue themselves for the actual film, they still want him able to perform covers for when they’re filming; currently he’s nursing a lemon and ginger tea with enough honey to drown a bee. Actually, Colson was the only one out of the four of them not to be drinking tea; both Iwan and Douglas both having ordered a cup with their breakfasts. Iwan was the only one who looked ready for the day, with the rest of them all slumped over in various states of exhaustion.

“Ducky, come on, please?” Colson actually whined, and you rolled your eyes, passing him the salt.

“You’re so needy,” you tell him, but your smile is enough to let him know that you’re joking.

“Why’re you called Duck, if I may ask?” Iwan asks, and you heave a sigh, knowing Douglas was already smiling before you even turn to look at him.

“Because when our parents first brought her home, all she did was follow me around like a duckling,” his tone is all fond, and he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a side hug despite your indignant noise of protest.

“Adorable,” Iwan grins over the lip of his cup. You just groan, and steal a bite of Douglas’ pancakes, though he doesn’t seem to mind, “have you worked much in the industry?” Iwan’s accent sounds like home, and despite how quiet and bitter he is in character, he’s rather bright and talkative as a person.

“Here and there; I actually spent quite a few of my teenage years as Doug’s assistant when he would be filming in London,” you say with a half-smile, “still a bit of a duck I suppose, but it looks good on my CV. I do odd-jobs on sets here and there back home, have been a runner for a few TV shows, but I don’t really go out of my way to be on camera, you know,” you shrug, before hearing your mistake. Both Colson and Douglas are already laughing, while Daniel and Iwan just seem confused. “Apart from, like, my actual job, you know? Like I’m on camera for YouTube, but not for a real movie or anything.”

“Well you seem very good at your job, we’re glad to have you onboard,” Iwan nods with a surprisingly sincere smile. Beneath the table, Colson’s hand is on your knee, and he gives you a small squeeze.

“I thought your hands didn’t work?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and Douglas almost spits his drink all over Daniel at the implication.

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide as saucers and Colson’s quickly turning red.

“I said my arms don’t work but damn, call me out why don’t you?” He splutters, raising his hands in the air in mock surrender, with only mild wincing. It’s about now that you realise the assumption that your brother had jumped to.

“His hand was on my knee, Doug, I was trying to make a joke,” you explain, flustered, though Daniel and Iwan on the other side of the booth have collapsed on top of each other with laughter. You, Douglas, and Colson, however, are all equally mortified, and make a point to move so neither of you are touching as you finish your breakfast quickly.

“I just appreciate,” Daniel was still chuckling as you all left the cafe, as was Iwan, “that Doug genuinely thought Colson was getting busy with his sister at brunch, like, right next to him under the table.

“Nah,” Iwan actually laughs, his smile sharp, “they’re just really in character.”

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’re flying all the way to sunny L.A, which honestly isn’t that far from Portland, but the production company was nice enough to not make us road trip it.” 

The video starts in your hotel room, and follows you as you pack your things, and cuts to a montage set to some royalty-free music, of you heading to the airport, of the cast yawning. Your brother buys you breakfast at a fast-food restaurant in the airport, and you check your bags; a panning shot in the waiting area, of every single member of the cast and crew that are taking this flight on their phones.

“You look cute,” you mutter very quietly to Colson, who’s sitting next to you, scrolling through Twitter with a travel pillow squished up around his neck. He gives you a toothy smile, leans his cheek against the pillow, and winks at the camera. 

The hotel you’re staying at is beautiful, all marble pillars in the foyer and beige and cream counters, and it feels like it might be too much. This is where the stars stay, and you? You know you’re absolutely not a star.

“Duck?” And there’s Josy’s voice, hesitant, about to tell you the jig is up, hand you keys to a water stained motel room a few blocks away. When you turn to her, she’s got two separate key cards in her hands.

“Yes, Josy?” You ask sweetly; it’s not her fault, after all, that you’re not a top-billed star. 

“So corporate wanted to put you with some of the other crew, they’re staying in a place down the road - it’s really lovely, trust me, and if you want it we can still get you a room - but,” Josy glanced to the cards in her hand, before holding them out, one in each hand, “if you’d like to stay here, both your brother and Colson are happy to share with you.” And at this, your brain stalls, looking at the key cards being offered to you.

“Why didn’t they tell me this?”

“Because they’re already heading up, but they wanted me to let you know that the offer’s there.”

So it seems that in the three minutes that you were mooning over the architecture, and giving the guys their space, since you’d assumed you’d be staying elsewhere, both your brother and your fake boyfriend happened to mention that you’re able to stay with them if you want. Douglas is not a surprise; Colson is. 

“How big are the rooms, I don’t want to -” you start, but Josy’s quick to cut you off.

“The size isn’t the matter; they’re big enough rooms, got really comfortable sofas from what I could see, but...”

“But?” You prompt, and Josy gives a smile. 

“Of course, it’s all about what you’re comfortable with; you know Doug’s more than happy to take the sofa, I just know you and Colson haven’t been together that long -” And here it all starts to make sense, and you hope the smile you give isn’t nervous as you ask which key is which. You take Colson’s.

The elevator ride up to the cast’s floor has you wracked with nerves, which you think is ridiculous; you can sleep on the sofa, it’s no trouble, and he wouldn’t have offered the room if he hadn’t meant it. So why does the idea of staying in a room with him, with only one bed, have your heart beating so fast? You’d been teasing each other, flirting and being cute together, in front of other people, that was easy, but since the night you’d released the video, you hadn’t really been alone together. You hadn’t needed to be. It seems like all you can think about as you walk down the beige hallway to your room, on auto-pilot as you scan your key card and enter the room.

It’s quiet.

There’s the gentle whistling of wind that comes from the balcony, the overhead sun beating down on the pristine, Hollywood beaches. He sits on the balcony, plush armchair, smoking a joint with his shirt off. Inside, it’s all white walls and gold accents, his suitcase on the bed, already open the contents inside surprisingly neatly folded. There’s a door beside you that you’re pretty sure leads to the bathroom, and the room itself is spacious, with a gorgeous, gray sofa sitting off to one side, and a wall-mounted television on the other. Just for the moment, all the fears and anxieties in your mind vanish at the sight of this pristine serenity.

Quietly, you wheel your own suitcase to the sofa, and pull out your phone. 

He’s stunning, like that, his feet up on the coffee table on the balcony, free hand tapping a lazy beat on the arm of his chair. You take a candid photo of him as he exhales smoke, and it catches the sunlight beautifully, with the water out of focus in the background. 

“Can I post this?” You ask, and he jumps a little, not having heard you come in, before his concerned expression morphs to a genuine smile when he realises that it’s you. Turning the phone to him, you show him the photo you took, and he lowers his sunglasses to get a proper look at it. After a beat, his gaze flicks to yours.

“’course, it’s a nice photo.”

“You’re very photogenic,” you brush of his compliment with a smile, and he pushes his glasses back up his nose, looking out from the balcony.

“You crashing here?” 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you respond, and he actually laughs, though the sound is kind.

“Wouldn’t have offered if it was.”

Easy. Like everything else about him, it seemed, this was easy.

You caption the photo ‘the view from my balcony 😍’ and post it on both Twitter, and your Instagram story, tagging him in both, and you set about checking out the room’s facilities. It’s a normal, if fancy hotel room. Little bottles of soaps and shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom, TV with a bunch of standard channels, and a whole ton more that you could pay for if you wanted, it even had a set of cables so you could charge your phone, either side of the bed. The singular bed. Which Colson has clearly already claimed.

Maybe it had been a mistake to not board with your brother. 

“I’m getting lunch, you want anything?” You call, needing to get out of your own head for a bit, wanting to explore the city a little. He’s quiet for a moment, then you hear a strained ‘yeah’.

“Gimme a moment, let me put on a shirt and I’ll come with you,” he tells you through a lung full of smoke, putting the joint out in the ash tray provided, tucking the other half in his pocket for later.

“You not gonna vlog this?” He asks, half smiling in the elevator, hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Oh, shit, knew I forgot something,” you mutter, and you go to punch in the number of your floor again, but his hand catches yours. 

“We’re coming back after, don’t worry about it.”

And, well, you don’t.

It’s easy to talk to him, you swap stories about life in the entertainment industry from two wildly different perspectives, and you find a cute and overpriced restaurant to have lunch in. All the while, you’re so aware of where you are, how there could be any number of people snapping photos of the pair of you. It’s not like you’re being overtly couple-y, you’d only been putting on this ruse for three weeks at this point, but he pays for your lunch.

“Oh, I didn’t realise this was a date,” you admit, a little surprised, a little flustered. He shrugs, eats the last bite of his burger, and smiles.

“Why not? We haven’t had the chance to go on one yet, let’s take it for a test drive. Do they- are boardwalks still a thing? Is a boardwalk carnival still a thing or was that just the nineties?” You’re actually rather taken aback by his suggestion, and can’t help but grin, picking up your mostly empty glass to swirl the ice at the bottom.

“Pretty sure boardwalks are a thing, not sure about carnivals on them, but we can check it out.”

You each finish your drinks and leave, setting off for the waterfront. Feeling bold, you tuck your arm in his, and enjoy the Spring-time sunshine. The boardwalk, as it turns out, is still definitely a thing, as are the kitschy carnival rides along it. 

“I feel like a fuckin’ teenager,” Colson mutters under his breath, knowing you’ll hear it, “if we see a couple where they’re both wearing braces, looking like they just got out of school, I’m throwing myself straight into the ocean.” He informs quietly, and you snort at that.

“Not a fan of traditional cute date shit?” You ask, as the pair of you approach the ticket booth. 

“Not in the slightest,” Colson admits through his teeth while trying to smile at the attendant. The attendant, who obviously recognizes at least one of you, is doing her best not to look like she’s staring. You each buy a ride pass and head in, and the girl tells you to have a good afternoon, with a nervous sort of excitement. 

“This feels like somewhere I’d go with my daughter,” Colson looks doubtfully up at the ferris wheel that sat ahead of you at the end of the pier, looking more than a little perturbed, but his words struck you in a way that you hadn’t expected.

“Have you told her about us?” You asked, and he casts an unreadable glance at you.

“Listen, if we’re going to talk about... stuff like this, let’s at least do it somewhere a little more private?” It seems he, just like you, is acutely aware of how busy the little set of attractions is, and having already been recognized once, it’s almost certainly not going to be the last time today.

The gangly-limbed teenager working the ferris-wheel doesn’t even hide that he’s staring at Colson with hero-worship in his eyes, and he gives you a look over, followed by an approving, rather smug nod, before closing the door of the carriage. It makes your skin crawl.

“Why does everyone get to decide if I’m good enough for you based on my looks?” You hear yourself mutter, but Colson’s slinging his arm around your shoulders as the pair of you are raised steadily into the air. 

“Who gives a shit? They’re jealous, and it doesn’t matter because we’re not really together anyways,” he’s got a point, but your expression is still downcast, and there’s a strange sadness settling in the pit of your stomach. 

“I suppose.”

Once you’re high enough in the air that no-one from the ground should be able to hear either of you even a little bit, Colson sits back, lets his gaze drift across the horizon.

“I told Cassie about us, told her the truth.” He doesn’t sugar coat it, doesn’t try and explain his way out of it, when instead he looks tense, like he’s read to defend himself. You, however, nod, giving him an understanding smile.

“Of course, she’s your daughter,” you pause, and he finally looks back at you, and you think you see some hint of relief in his eyes, “I never expected for you to lie to her.”

“She’s a good kid,” he assures softly, “got a good head on her shoulders.” And now he’s turning fond, giving your shoulder a squeeze, “fuckin’ who knows where she got it, ‘cos it ain’t me.” Laughing a little, he’s surprised when you answer, voice soft and sincere.

“You’ve gotta give yourself more credit,” you tell him matter-of-factly, “you wouldn’t be half as successful as you are if you didn’t have a good bit of sense.”

“I knew there was a reason I was dating you,” he teases, pulling you in close, but you play along.

“Yeah, it’s that good sense of yours,” you returned, and he gave you a gentle shove. “Am I going to meet her at all?” You ask finally, and Colson gives another shrug.

“Yeah, I mean sure, she wants to come to set, so if you’re around you’re welcome to meet her,” his fingers are drumming lightly against your shoulder, “I should warn you though, she tends to vet any girls I’m getting serious about pretty hard, fake or not.” And yeah, you’re laughter’s a bit disbelieving, and though he sees the humour in it, he doesn’t seem to be joking, “she’s a good judge of character, and I’ll tell you now, I’m mad protective of her, but she’s mad protective of me too.” The thought of it is actually endearing, and you lean into him, letting yourself heave a sigh of contentment, glad to have talked this through.

“This would have been real nice to film,” he muttered, a teasing edge to his voice as the two of you stared out at the glittering ocean.

“Don’t even start,” you gave his ribs a shove, which only made him laugh, the sound warm and easy in the afternoon air, the sun moving slowly to the horizon.

Slowly but surely Colson was warming to the little boardwalk carnival. The two of you play obviously rigged games, and ride the rollercoaster that creaks ominously, and he even convinces you to share some fairy floss. He snaps a picture of you grinning wide and genuine as you offer him the treat, and posts it to Twitter with the caption ‘sweet’. 

There’s a Tunnel of Love ride that Colson had adamantly refused to go on at first, but as sunset was drawing closer, he relented. 

“I’m not a cliche! I’m not a fucking cliche!” He huffs, sitting beside you with his arms crossed, his legs so long that his knees came up almost comically. You’re filming on your phone for your Instagram story, and will later add at least two heart gifs, but for now you’re just obnoxiously singing the Tunnel of Love remix, thankful that you’re the only two on the ride at the moment.

“You so fucking cute, when I see you, I uwu, can you be my fucking boo? Can you be my sailor moon?” Hearing the smile in your voice, he turns to you, something about his expression softening as he sees the joy written all over your face that the camera can’t see, “and I don't wanna fight, I just wanna treat you right; I was aiming at your heart and I don't wanna say goodbye.” 

He just laughs, and shakes his head as the ride takes off, fond adoration written all over his face.

The sun’s setting by the time you’ve ridden all the rides you wanted to, eaten all the candy you could possibly stomach, and failed at enough rigged games that you were about ready to call it quits. 

“Hey I didn’t just wanna come here for the carnival shit,” he said, and you’ve got your arm tucked into his again as he steers you both to the edge of the boardwalk, where there was a set of steps down to the beach. 

“Under the boardwalk,” you nod knowingly, which he parrots back with a smile. Beneath the boardwalk there was a gaggle of youth, looking slightly older than teenagers, some still in uniforms from boardwalk rides, some smoking, most looking intimidating, but when Colson asks them for a light, they seem to get much less hostile.

“Hey are you MGK?” One asks, and when Colson lights the half a joint he had from earlier, he nods. “Sick.” The kid nods sagely, before his gaze turns on you. “And you’re that Booth chick, aren’t you? I’ve seen you on Twitter.” It’s not hostile, it’s genuinely curious.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Eddie, that’s [Y/N], do you live under a rock?” One of the girls pipes up, decked out in black, with a thick piercing through her septum, and an intimidating amount of eyeliner. The boy, Eddie, flushes scarlet, and snaps that not everyone watches the same shit as her. “I’m Samara,” the girl offers with a grin, offering her hand to you, which you shake, more than a little pleased with their various reactions.

“I heard yous was boinking -” a third girl interrupts, wearing a boardwalk uniform and hitting a vape pen pretty hard. 

“Emma!” More than one of them shout, though Samara is the loudest.

“Is boinking still the term?” Colson snorts, taking it all in stride, though he’s got an arm around you now, “Jesus fuck I feel ancient.”

“You are -” Emma interrupts, much to the rest of the group’s chagrin, but Colson just laughs.

“I’m twenty-seven you fucker!” He crows, and Emma cracks a smile, and takes another hit off of her vape pen. “Whatever,” he shrugs, “just tryin’ to show my girl everything LA has to offer.” 

“So you come under the boardwalk?” Eddie asks, with a skepticism that made you all flustered at his insinuations.

“Can you blame us for wanting a bit of privacy?” Colson smirks, to which the group of youths all collectively ‘ooh’ at, and he gives your hip a squeeze. 

“Try the one a quarter of a mile that way,” Samara points further down the beach, “less carnival, less people.” She winks, before adding, surprisingly hopefully, “but could we get like, a photo or something first?” 

Of course you both agree, and among the group photos, you learn that they’re all working around town during winter break for college. Samara specifically asks for a photo with you, where she plants a kiss on your cheek, looking a little flustered herself, muttering a quiet thanks. You follow her back on Instagram, and she gives you this starry-eyed look.

“She’s got a crush on you,” Colson snickers as the two of you head down the beach, well and truly out of earshot of the others, and you smile, finally looking up from your phone, a little endeared at the young woman’s antics. 

“Jealous?” You ask, loftily, and you expect him to laugh, but he goes quiet. When you turn to him, he’s regarding you with amusement, and something else you can’t quite identify. “Colson?” And you slow, now near enough to the next section of the boardwalk. As promised, it was rather secluded. 

After a beat, he leans in and kisses you, soft and unexpected, but his lips fit against yours like you were made for each other. Leaning into him, you wrap your arms around him, letting him pull you close. Not exactly sure what triggered this, you’re just happy to lean into it, enjoying the moment. And then he’s pulling back, forehead resting against yours.

“You see the guy to our left who’s just left the group of kids under the boardwalk? Hawaiian shirt and expensive camera?” He asks quietly, and you glance out of the corner of eye, only to spot the exact person he’s talking about, you make a quiet noise of confirmation, and you keep up the ruse, hand coming up to cup his jaw, butterflies going ballistic in your stomach despite now knowing that it was obviously for show, “been following us for the past hour.”

“Fucking paps,” you hiss, but before your expression can sour, he kisses you again, gives you a squeeze, as if to remind you to put on a show of not noticing him. Much to your surprise, he bites gently at your bottom lip, and you let out a quiet but pleased noise that neither of you had expected, and when he leans back, he looks both surprised and kind of into it, what’s more unexpected is that the exact same expression is written all over your face too.

“Back to the boardwalk, uber back to the hotel?” You ask, resolutely not talking about what had happened, but still smiling and all up in his personal space.

“Love it, let’s get out of here,” and he takes your hand, and leads you back to the safety of the street. It’s the first time the two of you had kissed, not that you’d realised it in the morning, but it was good, you reflect, it felt like it made sense. If you’re a little more giddy than you probably should be on the way back, Colson doesn’t seem to notice, in fact, he’s grinning too, humming to himself.

There’s two posts, one right after the other on Samara’s Instagram story when you check it that night, after having briefly seen it in the uber on the way back to the hotel. 

The first is a video captioned [gross thats my mom and dad] The video was pixelated as hell, and she hadn’t tagged either you or Colson, but you knew it was the two of you, wrapped up in each other, half a mile down the beach. In the background, her friends are arguing about something much closer, though one voice cuts through louder than the rest.

“Hey, Hawaiian shirt hipster paparazzi fuck! Yeah you! Give ‘em some fucking privacy!” And as the voice, who you think is Emma, shouts, Samara turns to focus the camera on the paparazzi Colson had spotted earlier, still incredibly zoomed in, capturing his sheepish, angry expression in all it’s rather pixelated glory.

“Fuck you kids!” He shouts back. Someone throws a can at him.

“Piss off!” Samara shouts, “we know you’re not taking photos of seagulls, cunt!” He goes to respond, but the group just starts chucking things at him. In the background, you can see yourself and Colson heading back up to street level, oblivious to what was going on.

The second post is a screenshot of a set of DMs between yourself and Samara.

@yourinstagramhandle mentioned you in their story

6:28pm

@yourinstagramhandle responded 😍 to your story @yourinstagramhandle: god i fucking love you guys, it was so great to meet you @unholy-samara-tin: 😅😅😅 it was the right thing to do lmao no stress he was a creepy fucker

It’s captioned [HOLY SHIT I’VE DIED AND GONE TO HEAVEN].

You get dinner with Douglas and tell him about your day, and he gives you this sweet, if a little smug smile.

“You seem very happy.” He says, knowingly.

“I am, it was a good day!” You tell him, and he hums, but won’t say anything else on the matter. The conversation is taken up mostly by excitement regarding the makeup and costume fittings that they have over the next week and a half before filming starts, and then it’s back to your own rooms. At your door, Douglas calls out to you, three rooms away.

“It’s strange to see you so grown up, duckling,” he hasn’t called you that in so long, not since you were children, even your mother had abandoned that nickname for the mildly less embarrassing ‘Duck’ in the past few years, and while it warmed your heart, you couldn’t help but tense in anticipation for some sort of gentle, sibling embarrassment, probably to do with you sharing a room with your ‘boyfriend’. 

“And?”

“And nothing,” he shrugged, “never thought you’d become cool is all, a star in your own right, aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m cool, would you like me to give you some pointers?” You asked sweetly, and Douglas couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“I walked into that one, didn’t I? Anyways, have a good rest of your night, Colson and Dan have gone out drinking.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” you tell him, and the two of you finally go into your separate bedrooms. He’s right, of course, there’s clothes strewn all over the bed, and the shower’s been recently used, and the whole little place has a warm, clean smell, like the last mist of some spiced cologne was still lingering in the air. The only light on is one of the bedside lights, and the lights of the city outside twinkle brightly, though you can’t see many stars for the light pollution. You crack the screen door to the balcony open, and shiver a little, though you tell yourself it’s from the cold, and not because the rather comforting and clean smells were quickly dissipating. 

You are alone when you try to fall asleep on the plush but desperately uncomfortable sofa, alone and struggling to pass out with the bedside light still on, not wanting Colson to have to stumble around in the dark when he gets back. You spend almost a full hour on your phone blocking people who send you nasty DMs, and responding to a few kind ones, and you post a photo of the roof just captioned ‘cant sleep’.

It’s just gone one when the door clicks open, and Colson steps in, pretty well coordinated, and trying to keep quiet. But then there’s you, staring back at him in the lamp light.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Awkward silence.

“Why are you on the sofa?” He asks, hauling his bag from the bed, shoving his loose clothes in haphazardly, before patting down his pockets. “Sorry if I woke you,” it’s almost an afterthought, and he pulls out a box of cigarettes.

“You didn’t,” you tell him with a yawn that says otherwise, but you power through it, “and I didn’t want to intrude.”

He casts a dubious glance at how you’re angled on the sofa, but doesn’t say anything, and opens the sliding door wider to sit on the porch and have his cigarette. Without even hesitating, you join him, and your spine thanks you the moment you stand.

“Nice night?” You ask, sitting out on the balcony with him.

“Nice night,” he agrees, adding, “nice day all around.” And something about it makes your heart flutter. “You know you can take the bed; I’d rather sleep on the floor than have you get scoliosis.”

“I don’t think that’s how scoliosis works,” you say with a huff of laughter, but he just hums, “and you don’t need to do that, I’m fine,” you try to insist.

“You know you’re welcome to just share the bed, it’s fucking massive, I feel like I’ll get lost in it,” he actually yawns, takes another drag of his cigarette. 

“So you want me to, what, ground you somehow?”

“I just wanna know that if I roll over in the night and there’s something solid there, that it’s your arm and not like, the lightpost in fuckin’ Narnia,” he tells you, and breathes out a lung full of smoke. You watch it hang in the air, pale and silver in the light of the moon. 

“We’re gonna be in the tabloids tomorrow,” you tell him quietly.

“No-one reads tabloids anymore, we’re gonna be on like, those snapchat news things,” he says, and laughs but it doesn’t sound very amused. “Have you been getting less shit?”

“Actually,” you consider, “yeah, most of your fans are mad supportive when you ask them to be. What about you?”

“Your fans are cute, you know that? I was scrolling through twitter and I saw a whole bunch of photos of us like, photoshopped together,” he paused to chuckle, “some had flower crowns.” You can hear the smile in his words, and he seems quite enamored by the phenomenon. It’s a nice moment; he’s drunk and a little high and you’re exhausted, and you fall into bed like it’s a sitcom.

“Tell your spine I said ‘you’re fucking welcome’,” he tells you, and it’s so absurd that you laugh, even as you pull the covers up over you and snuggle in, comfortable as all hell, before turning the light off.

Then, there’s movement, and a loud ‘thwap’ as Colson’s hand comes to knock your shoulder, landing on top of the duvet. 

“Narnia?” He asks, and you give a small smile in the dark.

“Just me.”

You wake in the morning to the sound of Colson’s alarm, or more accurately, his groaning at his alarm. And swearing. And muttered ‘fucking makeup tests’. 

He’s dragging himself into the shower while you relish your days off, nose and eyes peaking out from the covers when he comes out of the shower wrapped in a towel. The two of you make direct eye contact before you mutter a flustered apology and flip away from him, though he doesn’t seem to know how to react, just quietly getting dressed. The rest of his morning routine passes mostly in silence, before you hear him open the door.

“If you wanna get like, lunch or dinner or something, lemme know, or I’ll let you know if the boys are organising something,” he tells you, and you call out a sleepy thanks in response. The door closes. Silence. You could go back to sleep, but you’re curious about the turn around time for paparazzi media, and you were not disappointed.

MTV’s snapchat story posted “MGK and New Boo [Y/N] Booth Caught Getting Steamy Under the Boardwalk” the headline.

The self-proclaimed ‘Rap Devil’ Machine Gun Kelly, best known for his album bloom, has managed to find himself locking lips with YouTube’s darling [Y/N] Booth, though you may know her best as the vlogger, and entertainment industry insider, DuckDuckBooth.

It seems new media’s hottest couple have finally landed in LA after their surprising hookup in Louisiana, set to continue working on some mysterious project that they keep hinting at, and they seem to still be going strong!

The pair were caught after a cute date along the Hollywood seaside - 

[And here they’d entered your Instagram story, from the Tunnel of Love, as well as Colson’s Twitter picture of you with the fairy floss.]

- after meeting a group of fans, they found somewhere a little more private to get a little bit romantic in a way that 90s kids truly will appreciate; making out under a boardwalk. It feels like it should be ripped straight from a John Hughes movie set in Hollywood.

However unlikely this pair may be, you can’t deny that they’re cute together.

[And here’s those traitorous, and almost painfully HD photos of yourself and Colson, wrapped up in each other, that the paparazzi had taken the day before, though with the legs of the boardwalk, as well as the ocean and the sunset as your backdrop, the photos themselves are surprisingly stunning.]

“Fucking paps,” you mutter under your breath, and screenshot the photo anyways. If it’s your lock screen, well, it’s what any real girlfriend would do, right?

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #douglas booth #douglas booth & reader #The Dirt #the dirt imagine #the dirt cast #the angry lizard writes #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader

[luvbug724]

hiii ive been thinking abt neil running post-tkm whatre ur thoughts on that 🤨 i feel its not Too common but it comes up often enough in fandom and is always triggered in neil by something so he runs and either comes back or doesnt but i cant rlly see that happening? also similarly do u think neil would have some troubles w accepting permanence in his life? i was thinking hed def have some habits he wouldnt need anymore but w main threats gone + a life he wants to keep it wldnt be a huge issue..

WAIT my last ask when i say like permanence ex: neil panicking abt captaincy in tkm do u think hed have similar experiences later on w similar aspects of living in one place? (and this maybe triggering the need to run in turn)

holy cow first of all i got so excited when i got this ask you don’t even know. this has definitely been something that’s been sitting in the back of my mind but it was never something that bothered me enough to share online. SECOND of all, i mean absolutely no disrespect to anybody who might disagree with me on this or has written neil in this scenario-- it’s all fiction we’re all having fun here and my characterization may differ from yours and that’s fine! even if i might not be a fan of the concept i still read and support fics that include it if i like the writing :) this got very long and some people probably won’t be interested in reading it, so my response is under the cut :’)

but as for your question, anon, i completely agree with you. when i got this notification the first scene my mind went to was chapter nine of tkm right after wymack offers neil the vice captaincy. this was, probably, one of the worst sequences of events that could have possibly happened to neil: some of his most fundamental lies are exposed to his team, he’s confronted with his past, he has to reveal some truths that he never planned on saying, and now here’s his coach insisting on a future he so desperately wants but doesn’t think he’ll live long enough to have. neil should have already had a new name in a new country three months ago and instead he’s at palmetto state in the public eye right for the moriyamas and wesninskis to watch. 

and what does he do?

He didn't remember pulling it from his pocket or making the decision to dial out. He lowered it and tapped a button, thinking maybe he'd imagined things, but Andrew's name was on his display and the timer put the call at almost a minute already.

Neil put the phone back to his ear, but he couldn't find the words for the wretched feeling that was tearing away at him. In three months championships would be over. In four months he'd be dead. In five months the Foxes would be right back here for summer practices with six new faces. Neil could count his life on one hand now. On the other hand was the future he couldn't have: vice-captain, captain, Court. Neil had no right to mourn these missed chances. He'd gotten more than he deserved this year; it was selfish to ask for more.

He should be grateful for what he had, and gladder still that his death would mean something. He was going to drag his father and the Moriyamas down with him when he went, and they'd never recover from the things he said. It was justice when he'd never thought he'd get any and revenge for his mother's death. He thought he'd come to terms with it but that hollow ache was back in his chest where it had no right to be. Neil felt like he was drowning.

Neil found his voice at last, but the best he had was, "Come and get me from the stadium.”

andrew grounds him, comes for him, and makes sure that neil can’t run. but this was just one very extreme situation, so here’s how i think his future may play out: no matter how much neil wants to go, he needs to stay even more. and, unlike the above situation, neil now has explicit permission (a command, even) to stay with the foxes, to stay with his family. i think he will be fine for a long while until there comes a moment where he realizes that he’s here to stay and he has a home and he has the foxes and he has andrew and it’s honestly a toss up as to how he would react. the first option would be that it’s overwhelming in a very, very good way and nothing much changes. the second option (which seems way more in character for neil) is instead: he panics, and he needs something to keep him tethered to psu. he might seek out andrew like he did in canon or he might try to hide it to not worry him, but i’d place my bets on somewhere in the middle where he makes sure andrew knows whats going on but tries to downplay its importance. 

anyways, i wrote all this before i even checked with nora’s ec to see if she’s said anything in a similar context and she DID and and it was pretty much compliant with my ideas which i am very happy about:

“He’s more likely to walk away or tell Neil to get over it or look right past whatever existential/psychological crisis Neil is having. Neil’s grumpiness after a loss are brushed aside unimportant, and his aggravation over uncooperative teammates is nothing to pity him for. 

But once in a long while Neil will hit a ledge he has to be pulled back from, and that’s what Andrew does. Like in Baltimore, when Neil is trying to say Do you want me to go, and Andrew catches hold and tells him Stay. This is how Andrew comforts: by being a stabilizing force, an anchor to keep Neil at home, a place to rest his weight and his secrets. Honestly, that’s what Neil needs.” (Andrew comforting Neil)

“Impatience kind of worked in Baltimore, but I guess it’s not a one-size-fits-all kind of ordeal. Forced eye contact and Look at me and a ruder calm down right now. ((Thanks Andrew, really sympathetic of you)) Andrew gives Neil the weight to connect him to the real world: a hand on the back of his neck or fingers hooked in the collar of his shirt to drag Neil home to him.” (Andrew re: Neil’s panic attacks)

now, as for neil adjusting to just a plain stationary life, i think he’d adjust relatively easily. his entire life was fitting in which i don’t think he’d have a big problem with, but the new element of how he’s not pretending anymore, he’s just neil josten, might throw him off a little bit. there’s likely going to be some habits he picked up that he can’t shake and some associations (alcohol isn’t for fun, it’s an anesthetic is one that comes to mind) that he never quite gets rid of but despite how much might get thrown at him, after everything he survived freshman year it’d take a fucking lot to push him to his breaking point.

#is this coherant? who knows! #but tysm for the ask i love sharing my opinions its very fun #aftg #aftg meta #neil josten

[marshmallow-phd]

Charming Instruction

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: You were just an average, everyday college student desperately trying to graduate. Only one more year stood between you and that celebratory walk. However, due to an oversight by your adviser, it seemed that the one class you never wanted to take was required to take that walk. It wasn’t the subject matter that made you uncomfortable. It was the teacher. Your heart sped up every time you saw him and you didn’t want that distraction in your life, attractive or not. With meeting him now an inevitability, you swore that you would keep your hormones in check. But after your first day of class, a series of hi jinks and weird situations lead you to discovering the secret of your professor and why he seemed to bombard your every thought.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

**

Junmyeon didn’t lead you too far into the woods. He stuck to the tree line, pulling you in close once he was leaning up against a sizable trunk that kept you somewhat hidden from the house. Hands resting on your hips, he leaned his forehead on yours and sighed deeply.

You could tell he was still stressing over the meeting. Perhaps he was expecting more concern and questioning from the pack rather than the nonchalant reception that was bestowed upon him instead. While you didn’t know the boys all that well, they all seemed to give off that carefree vibe, which was possibly be the bane of Junmyeon’s existence, if you had to guess. But that probably just came with the territory of being a leader. And being the mate of the leader, you figured it was your job to help him stop worrying.

“Just give them a little time,” you reassured him as you rubbed his arms. “Soon, they’ll take it more seriously. It’s just because the information is so vague at this time, they don’t know what to be cautious of. So, they blow it off rather than stressing about something they have no control over.”

Junmyeon pouted, squeezing your sides. “Then why am I stressing about it?”

“Well, I don’t know too much about werewolf pack dynamics….” You scrunched your face mischievously, “But I’m pretty sure it has to do with the fact that you’re the leader and it’s kind of your job to worry over every little thing.”

“I do not worry about every little thing,” he protested.

This was coming from the same person who didn’t tell you the truth about the connection between the two of you because he was overthinking on whether or not you would hightail it out of here and leave him in the dust. Granted, you didn’t give him much hope for any other outcome, but still.

You held your thumb and index finger up, leaving a minuscule amount of space in between. “You do. Just a little bit.”

Junmyeon opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it, sighing heavily. “Okay. Maybe a little. But someone has to worry about these things or else we’ll all be doomed.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing that you’re the leader instead of one of the others.”

He let out a short laugh. “Well, me and Kris. And it was nice that he-”

A little over the current discussion, you simply pressed your lips against Junmyeon’s for a quick kiss to stop his talking. Well, it was supposed to be a quick kiss.

Catching the back of your neck with his hand before you could pull away, Junmyeon deepened the display of affection, taking full advantage of the isolation. Under your palms that were resting on his chest, you could feel his content purr vibrating both you and him. The sensation made you giggle. Junmyeon broke off the kiss at the sound.

“What’s so funny?” he murmured, frowning at you.

“You’re like a cat,” you chuckled. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Junmyeon scoffed, the corners of his mouth turning up in astonishment. His eyes turned back to you, “Do you realize how insulting that is?”

“Um, sorry?” you snorted. He did not find it as funny. “It’s not my fault! You were purring!”

“I was happy! I can’t control it!” he whined.

You rolled your eyes. “I was just saying that it was cute!”

“Hardly the word I want to hear in the middle of kissing you,” he grumbled.

Stepping back, you crossed your arms, just staring at him. He kept pouting, just making him even cuter.

It was ridiculous. The big alpha wolf wanted to be seen as anything but cute. But he made it hard with that fluffy brown hair, puckered lips, and big, round brown eyes gazing at you. You almost wanted to snap a picture of it, but that didn’t feel appropriate in the moment. Honestly, it felt silly, him taking offense to that four letter word, but it wasn’t worth starting an argument.

You threw your hands up. “Okay. Fine. I won’t call you cute anymore. Never again. I will purge that word from my vocabulary unless I’m talking about a puppy or small child.”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows shot up to nearly his hairline. “I didn’t say that.”

Narrowing your eyes and smirking, you teased, “So, you do want me to call you cute?”

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t mind it under certain circumstances. Just not when I’m kissing you. Because that makes me want to show you exactly how not ‘cute’ I can be.”

Now that kind of had you taken back. “Are you sure you’re a college professor? Because you are acting a bit more more like a college boy right now.”

With a predatory gleam in those russet eyes, Junmyeon stalked towards you. Instinctively, you stumbled back until your back hit a tree, the curved edges of the bark piercing your shoulder blades.

Your breath quicken and you couldn’t stop the audible gulp in your throat from how much like a wolf he being. That reaction seemed to just egg Junmyeon on. He didn’t stop until the space between you was completely gone, a hand on each side of your hip to keep you in place. His lips were right against your ear as he whispered, “I’m only a professor on campus.”

Oh, that’s not good.

Junmyeon nibbled at your ear before moving down to your neck. You giggled anxiously. He’d never gone this far before. What really made you nervous was the fact that you didn’t want to stop.

“Junmyeon! Junmyeon, are you out here?!”

Junmyeon growled, slamming a fist into the bark above your head. “Oh, for crying out loud.”

You snorted, covering your mouth when Junmyeon shot you a look.

Chanyeol and Jongin came running through the trees. You straightened up, hoping that there was no evidence of what you and Junmyeon were doing left on your face.

“What is it?” Junmyeon asked grumpily. You could tell he was trying to remain calm and not be irritated at the boys in case it was a real emergency.

“Sorry to barge in,” Jongin actually looked really guilty, which made you want this whole thing end even quicker, “but no one can find Tao. Did he run past here?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “No, we haven’t. Why?”

“No one can find him,” Chanyeol explained. “He stormed off after the meeting. He seemed really pissed.”

“That’s not good.” Junmyeon ran a hand through his hair before glancing at you. Turning back to the other wolves, he asked, “Did you see what direction he took off in?”

“He went out the front door,” Jongin replied.  

“So, you think he went into town?” Junmyeon guessed.

Chanyeol shrugged. “Maybe? And you know Tao when he’s mad. He doesn’t really have the best control.”

“Alright.”

You could see how reluctant Junmyeon was to be the leader, to go after his wayward member, but it was an instinct that he couldn’t ignore.

“I guess I’ll go track him down,” Junmyeon sighed.

“I need to go back into town anyway,” you inserted. Maybe if you were the one to take him, he’d be less pouty about it.

“Luhan wants to go with you,” Chanyeol added. “Said if anything, he can drag Tao to the empty bar while he does opening work.”

Junmyeon nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

The four of you headed inside, grabbing Luhan before splitting off and going back outside to your car.

It wasn’t a very chatty car ride. Luhan stayed quiet in the back seat while Junmyeon held your hand from the passenger’s seat. He made random comments about the area’s history or how the road needed repaving every once in a while.

Apparently, Tao preferred to hang out downtown, so that’s where you dropped the two wolves off. You told Junmyeon that he could find you at the museum once he was done. When he questioned why you would go there, you simply shrugged and said to kill time.

That wasn’t entirely a lie. You really did like to spend free time at the museum, wandering around and trying to find new pieces to memorize.

But today you had a little mission.

Even though Junmyeon said he’d already gone through the little book of his family’s history, you thought that maybe a fresh pair of eyes could pick up some new clues.

Mrs. Kang wasn’t surprised to see you at all when she saw you in the main lobby. Junmyeon had told you earlier in the week that he had you added to the very limited list of people with access to the back room. Mrs. Kang handed you a key card with no hesitation and left you to go on your merry way. Getting a pair of cotton gloves from the supply closet, you buckled yourself down at the table in Junmyeon’s secret room after carefully taking out the book from its resting place.

You flipped through the pages slowly, gliding your eyes over the heavily faded words. Some paragraphs were almost completely illegible from the old ink wearing away with age. One particularly worn page caught your eye about halfway through the book. The edges were particularly feathered and torn, giving you the impression that this page’s contents were immensely important in the past. Almost all the writing was gone on the pages, but certain words you were able to make out.

Enemies.

Beware.

Hunted.

Future encounters.

Bingo.

At the very bottom of the page, underneath the missing information was a familiar looking symbol still present enough to make out. It was a circle overlapping three points. That could be the clue you were looking for in order to keep the pack - Junmyeon’s family - safe. But where did you take it from here?

Junmyeon came to the museum about forty-five minutes later, finding you in the “caveman” section, as Cam liked to describe it.

“Finding anything new and interesting?” he teased as he came up behind you, encircling his arms around your waist.

You shrugged lazily. “Perhaps. Did you find Tao?”

Junmyeon scoffed. “Yeah, he’s been found. But he’d ran off in the forest, not to town. Apparently, he just ran in a different direction than where we were.”

“Poor leader.” You turned around in his arms, linking your own around his neck. “It’s so hard being you.”

That just made him roll his eyes. “You’re so mean to me.”

You motioned to exit with your head. “Come on. Since I’m so mean, dinner’s on me.”

Junmyeon made his impressed face, the kind he made when a student in class gave him an answer he wasn’t expecting. “I like that idea. And I think I know just the place.”

**

Triquetragirl49: I’m glad that the new article helped!

Archaeology4life: It was a great read! Thank you!

Triquetragirl49: How’s the paper coming?

Archaeology4life: Not too bad! Teacher’s a hardass, though. Lol

Triquetragirl49: Well, hopefully he’ll at least enjoy your paper on irish werewolves.

Archaeology4life: Fingers crossed! If I don’t get an A, I might have to complain to the dean. Jk

Triquetragirl49: Remind me again why you were focusing on that subject?

Archaeology4life: I just came across something about werewolves and a connection to the triquetra in some research. I was surprised that they were both related to protection.

Triquetragirl49: Kind of related. Werewolves were still considered dangerous and best for everyone to stay away from them.

Triquetragirl49: At least, according to the legends, that is. Considering they’re not real!

Archaeology4life: I’m sure if wolves were real, they wouldn’t be dangerous.

Triquetragirl49: You never know. There’s a lot of scary stories out there lol.

Archaeology4life: Yeah… you’re right lol

Archaeology4life: Thank you again!

Triquetragirl49: Of course! Just let me know if you want to know anything else! I’ve enjoyed talking to you!

Archaeology4life: Same!

“What are you smiling at?”

You slammed the screen of your laptop shut just as Junmyeon slid into the empty space across from you in the breakfast booth. Since he had a department meeting this evening, you’d beaten him to the farmhouse and decided to kill some time by getting back in touch with your new internet friend.

Finding triquetagirl49 in a folklore chat room on a history website had been pure luck and she’d giving you so much information on how that old celtic symbol could be related to werewolves. It seemed more like a good thing, representing protection for both humans and wolves alike. You weren’t sure when you should share this information with Junmyeon or exactly how to present it, so you decided for now to just keep it to yourself for the time being.

“Funny article on The Mummy trilogy,” you lied smoothly.

He shook his head, laughing to himself. “You and those movies. Don’t you have them memorized by now?”

“Maybe,” you pouted. “We can watch something else, though, if you want. Or do something else. We don’t have to watch a movie.”

Junmyeon held out two hands, moving them up and down like a pair of scales. “Let’s see… hold my mate close on my bed while we watch her favorite movie or do something else that involves less intimate time and possibly run into someone else in the pack.” He gave you a pointed look. “I think movie wins.”

You beamed. “Good!” Hopping up, you started for the staircase. “Let’s go!”

Junmyeon laughed as he followed you up to his bedroom. By luck, a majority of the wolves were out and about with their mates on this beautiful friday night. Since you and your wolf still had to be careful about who saw you together, it was a night in for the pair of you. But you didn’t mind. In fact, you had been looking forward to it all week.

Jumping on the bed, you pushed yourself all the way up to the headboard while Junmyeon turned on the TV and readied the movie before heading into the bathroom. While you waited on him, you fluffed up the pillows to make yourself more comfortable.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you tried to keep your focus on the bright screen. Junmyeon had decided that it was completely appropriate to come out in just a pair of sweatpants. Just sweatpants. No shirt.

He was such a tease.

You made no protest as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close to him. Leaning your head on his chest, you watched the movie for a good fifteen minutes or so until the scene with Rachel Weisz in the museum, knocking over the bookshelves and creating that cringe-worthy disaster came on the screen.

That’s when Junmyeon got a little restless.

At first, he was just playing with your fingers and planting kisses on your shoulder. Then he moved his lips up to your neck, tickling the sensitive skin. Out of reflex, you flinched into the kiss, closing off access from Junmyeon.

“It’s cute that you know every word,” he whispered. It was obvious that he cared nothing for the movie and he was just trying to distract you and maybe even give him all your attention instead.

Taking the bait, you turned to tell him to be quiet. Before one word could escape your lips, he’d captured them in his own. You never saw another minute of the movie, too preoccupied to pay it any mind.

Oh, well. There was always next time and your wolf needed your special attention.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #junmyeon x reader #kim junmyeon #suho #exo series #exo supernatural au #Charming Instruction #untamed wolf universe

[blondecarfucker]

Bed of Roses (1988 Special)

Roger Taylor x Reader BoRhap!Roger Taylor x Reader

Fic Summary: It's 1971. You just moved to London to study, and you find a band on a local pub after a bad date. The encounter doesn’t go the way you expect it, and neither does what follows this evening as you try to deal with loving Roger Taylor.

Fic Note: So I’ve had this story in my head for the last three weeks and finally decided to write it down. It’s completely planned. It will have 21 chapters and it’s divided in three acts: Dusk, Night and Dawn. It’s will be a bit angsty in the future, and it will most likely have some smut as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! Tell me what you think about it in the asks/comments/messages. If this is your first time stumbling upon Bed of Roses, thank you for stopping by! The rest of the story is in my masterlist, the link is in my bio - can't put the link here or else the post will disappear from the tags.

Chapter's notes: so this is not even a real chapter??? i mean, it doesn't have a number - it's really a reallll epilogue, you really get to know what happen in the eleven years that follow the end of the story. this wasn't really on my outline - i just kept thinking about the characters cause theyre SO CUTE and DESERVE THE BEST and im an absolute softie so i couldnt help but write this. its probably a bit messy cause im tired atm but im happy i wrote this and i want to share it with you guys already. im curious to know what you guys think about it! - also, just making it clear, there's no story for a sequel, so there's no sequel coming. just so you guys know. thanks again for stopping by and reading my story and being AMAZING. im a bit rusty i guess so sorry about the size of the chapter

Words: around 2.8k

1988

You heard Roger hitting the drums as you opened the studio door.

"Hey, Y/N", Freddie said, coming to hug you. "It's your man recording", he told you, and you nodded.

"I see", you answer, and Jim comes closer to Freddie and says hello to you. You really like the way they feel at ease with each other - it just looks natural. It's been long ever since you saw Freddie so peaceful.

But Roger soon showed up in your field of vision, having just left the recording booth. "Babe, it's so good to see you", he said, hugging you by the waist. "Good seeing you too, Rog. What are you guys recording?, you ask, and Deacy answers.

"It's 'Rain Must Fall', just wrote it with Freddie", he says, as Freddie listens to Roger's recording.

"It's still not right", he says, and Roger sighs. "Be right back", he tells you, going inside the booth.

Now that you're paying attention, you realize it's latin percussion. "This is really nice", you tell Freddie, and he smiles. "Thanks, darling. How's the museum? Did it fall apart after you spent a month away?", he asked, and you laughed.

"Actually, they've been holding up quite nicely", you say, referring to the period you've just spent with them in Montreux. "They're getting used to it, I suppose", and he nods.

You and Roger have been taking turns the last decade on who's gonna spend time along with the other, but now, after you've got your PhD and was promoted to Senior Curator, your job could be done without official office hours, so you've been following Roger around a bit more - which is nice, especially when he's in Montreux, such a calm place you thought about retiring there, in the future.

"And this outfit, too, I love it. You look like such a serious business woman" Jim said, pointing to your tailleur. "I have to look the part, Jim", you shrug, and Brian laughs. "I miss your yellow Chuck Taylors days, Y/N", he says, and you laugh. "These shoes are killing me, so I do, too", you tell him.

"I won't invite you to dance, then", Freddie said, and you frowned. "Please do, Freddie. You know how I love these latin inspired songs of yours", you pouted, and Freddie laughed, extending a hand to you.

You could feel Roger's eyes watching you through the glass as you danced with Freddie. Rain Must Fall reminded you of Cool Cat, and even though the Hot Space days, in 1981 were complicated, it reminded you of an afternoon with Roger on a yacht on Lake Geneva, the two of you drinking mimosas and sunbathing as Montreux glimmed under the Riviera sun.

"God, I hate this fucking song", Roger said, sipping on his mimosa.

"It's not the best", you agreed, and he laughed.

"This fucking album, I swear to God. If it wasn't for you here, I would've dropped this", he said, and you got up to prepare another mimosa for you.

"Don't say that, Rog. You wouldn't drop the band", you said, and he sighed.

"You're right. But I would drop this album, though. This song, even - I didn't take part in anything regarding the production. I just watched, like you watch a car crash", he says, and it's your turn to laugh.

"You're so dramatic", you tell him, mixing the orange juice and the champagne. "But seriously, babe. Do you even like the songs we're making now?", he asks, and you take a sip of your drink.

"I like Under Pressure", you say, and you're happy to see his face lighten up as he laughs. "Of course you do. I'm impressed you didn't ask Bowie for an autograph yet", he said, and you laugh along. "I have to stop myself from fangirling every time he's around, you know. It's pretty hard, but I do my best not to embarass you", you told him, sitting by his side.

His sun kissed skin made his eyes even brighter than usual - like lapis lazuli on bronze.

"Like I try not to embarrass you by looking stupid when we're on one of your fancy dinners?", he asks, hugging you by the side. "Exactly", you told him, pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He tasted like orange.

As you now kept dancing with Freddie, Jim pulled Deacy for a dance too, and eventually everyone was dancing to Roger's percussion. Each had a different level of success, and you were trying to help Brian when Roger finished his part.

It made you happy to have moments like this. After A Kind Of Magic, in 1986, the band was fighting constantly - it made you sad to see such thing. Roger even created a side band, The Cross, and he worked with them for a while before reuniting with Queen for this new album.

You were always a huge fan of his solo work, but you never connected with The Cross - and you felt like he didn't, either. They never really challenged him, and anything only gets better after receiving honest feedback.

But now Freddie wanted to produce again with the rest of the band - as much as they could, non-stop. They wouldn't even tour after this album, The Miracle. You felt like Roger knew exactly why these changes happened, but he didn't share them with you. You didn't really mind - it was not only his privacy, but the privacy of the rest of the band members. The fact that he was trustworthy enough to keep his friend's reasoning behind a polemic decision private only made you love him more.

"Babe", Roger called, walking over to you. You hugged him, his known smell now more refined, cologne mixed with the patchouli and substituting the cigarette smoke - you both quitted smoking, since you heard it could be harmful for little ones.

"The kids are with their nanny, right?" Rog asked you, and you nodded.

It was 1982 when you realized you couldn't keep your breakfast - you vomited every morning, almost religiously, twenty minutes after you ate.

Roger was immediately concerned on the phone - you spent two weeks in Mexico for work, and it was only when Roger spent a weekend there at the end of your trip that he told you not to drink the tap water. So you were both convinced you had some parasite, and Roger took you to a doctor - he liked to spend time with you when you were both in London, even in boring activities, since you still lived in separate flats, always trying to take it slow - even though you felt like a teenager when you had to pack to stay a weekend at your boyfriend's house - and you considered talking to Roger about moving in together again.

The doctor soon realized there were no parasites inside you, but there was a baby - a 3 months old little boy, in fact, as the doctor confirmed after taking you two to the ultrasound room.

You could never forget Roger's face once he understood what the doctor told the two of you. He was going to be a father.

But the realization that you were going to be a mother took a little longer to hit you. It was only when you heard the baby's heartbeat that you really understood what was going on inside you - a baby. Your baby. Roger's baby.

Proof that you were together, proof that you belonged to each other, that you loved each other.

"This is the most beautiful sound I've ever heard", Roger told you, and you smiled in agreement.

Nine months later, Apollo was born.

You agreed on Apollo because you always thought about how Roger reminded you of Apollo, and it did remind you of New York, too - the Apollo Theater was a landmark only a couple dozens streets above the apartment you grew up in.

But Apollo was much more like you than he was like his dad. He inherited his dad's dirty blonde curls, but his eyes were just like yours, and so was his personality - he was very determined, liked to be alone, and a full blown nerd. He taught himself to read when he was four, and now, at age 6, he liked to read The Hobbit by himself.

He didn't speak with an English accent, oddly enough, even though he was raised in London - he spoke water like his dad, but copied your accent in every other word.

Roger would hold him and hug him and always spend time with "his little guy", always telling him how proud he is to be the father of a genius, and Apollo's cheeks would be flushed pink, just like yours did when Roger told you how smart you are.

When Apollo was born, you both agreed to move in together into a big family home, but you filled the walls with artwork and tapestry, and Roger made sure there was always good music playing - it didn't feel like you were abandoning your old selves to become parents; it felt like a natural step.

And for financial reasons - mostly to protect Apollo and to make taxes easier - you and Roger decided to get married. He tried to play the practical part, reaffirming marriage was just a title and the two of you were way beyond that, but you knew, deep down, that he was incredibly happy to get on his knees and propose.

It was a simple ceremony in 1984 - close friends and family under the hawaiian sunset, the Lana'i Island's atmosphere made you feel like you were in a dream. With a simple cotton white dress, you reunited with Roger - in a half open, white cotton button up - in front of a licensed marriage performer, and you became Ms Taylor.

Roger used any excuse to call you Ms Taylor, savoring the name on his tongue just like he did with your lips on honeymoon.

Apollo was 2, and stayed with his grandparents for a week as the two of you enjoyed your honeymoon on paradise. "It's funny how this is like, the millionth time I feel like I'm on honeymoon with you", you tell Roger, and he pouts. "If you consider honeymoon everytime we go somewhere amazing alone and keep fucking like teenagers, then yeah. But this is special. This feels more… I don't know. Official", he said, and you agreed.

And all that young love had a result - you soon found out you got pregnant again after a routine blood test. Roger was, again, the happiest man on Earth.

You felt calmer this time around - a kid and responsibilities didn't ruin your relationship with Roger the first time around, and you were actually pretty good parents.

So when Live Aid came about, you were huge - you enjoyed the many performances, but when Queen was onstage, it felt different. You could remember when, almost fifteen years ago, you saw these guys broke, rehearsing and travelling around in a van.

Now they were here, and in a day filled with performances from stars, they shined the brightest.

You don't know if it was all the emotions you felt watching them, but once you finally got home, the sun about to rise - Apollo long asleep - you sat down to prepare a warm bath for the two of you, but you felt something warm running down your legs. Your water broke.

You and Roger ran to the Hospital, and after a few hours, Artemis was born.

She screamed, not cried, once she first looked at you and Roger, almost annoyed - like she was sad she missed the show.

Artemis was a logical name choice - Apollo's twin in greek mythology - but the kid also got her strong will. She looked just like her father, big, round blue eyes and pink, full lips soon learned to express what she desired and complained when things seemed wrong in her perspective.

At the early age of three and with a reduced vocabulary, she convinced the two of you to get the smallest drum set you could find, and she tried to repeat her fathers movements on it, still too small for her tiny kit, but proud of the loud noises she made, hitting it recklessly.

Roger looked at it as if he was seeing a miracle.

The kids were raised primarily in London, but they spent some time in Montreux, when the band was recording, under their father's care, or on tour when you could stay with them - tour made the kids so confused about their whereabouts that it needed a conjoined effort - but now that the band was recording in London with no plans for long periods away, it was going to be interesting.

Apollo was just getting started in school, and soon it would be Artemis turn. They still had no dimension of their fathers - or their "uncles" - importance, but you and Roger talked about this, waiting for the day you'd have to explain your life for the kids, who you were before you were their parents.

You wondered if Apollo would think back on the time he went to dad's work and he was dressed as a woman - he couldn't recognize Roger when he was Rogerina while recording the video for I Want To Break Free until he took his wig off.

It was a better reaction than John's kids had, screaming in fear of the old, scary and tall lady that tried to pick them up.

The latest video recording was incredibly sweet, actually - it was for The Miracle, the single, and the band was going to be interpreted by 11 year olds. The kid that played Freddie was absolutely brilliant, mimicking all of his signature moves.

But it was the kid that played Roger who stole your heart.

As you watched the tiny Rog rehearse, you couldn't help but imagine Artemis hitting her drums - maybe in a few years, she'd be able to actually play something.

You also thought about Apollo, how he'd look like an even younger version of Roger if he was sitting on the stool, bouncing his curls and pouting in concentration.

You really loved the life you lived now, and when you looked back to all the drama that went between you and Roger so you could get here - two happy, fully realized people; and two great parents - you'd do it all again.

You kept thinking about it as the kid rehearsed Roger's part in the song, until you felt a familiar smell fill the air around you, and an arm snaking around your waist.

"Hello, beautiful stranger. Are you lost?", Roger whispered, his husky voice still able to give you chills.

"I am, actually. I can't find my husband, and I came here just to see him before work", you said.

"How did he get so lucky to have you?", he asks, and you turn around to kiss him.

"Actually, I'm his good luck charm", you say, pulling him closer to you.

He was ready for the shoot, so you felt bad when you broke the kiss and realized you transfered part of your lipstick to his lips.

"Shit, your makeup artist is going to kill me", you say, trying to wipe it away.

"It's fine", he says, kissing you again. "So I'm picking Apollo from school today, right?", he confirmed, and you nodded. It would always amaze you how you found your own level of responsibility, of the feared and dreaded domesticity, without losing the passion you had for each other. Taking it slow.

But now, back in the studio, you said goodbye to everyone, and followed Roger to a limo.

You always had your nights out - nights where you'd stay in a fancy hotel room just for the sake of being together in different ambiances. You two learned from your trip to Paris how it makes you more in love with each other, the new place making you fonder of what you know and love - in your case, Roger.

So when he popped open a bottle of champagne while you undressed, and once you were only in your lingerie, Roger took his own shirt off, knowing to pass it to you - a ritual, really.

You both went out, relaxed and comfortable, and enjoyed the view.

The Thames was below you, and you could see the entire city - if you tried, you could point where the bar you first met was, and Kensington Marked, and the first flat you shared. London was a huge part of your story.

"Let's make a toast", Roger said, and you nodded. "To what?", you asked, but you knew the answer.

You've been together for almost twenty years, now, so it's normal for you to know what to expect from Roger. But it doesn't feel boring - it feels like home.

"Us", he says.

-

Taglist: 

@taylorroger-s @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @its-nessi @anamcg317 @frenchieswiftie @queen-danielle-dani-dan @minihemo @shutup-sorry @theyrealllegends @killerqueenisthebest @ashagracelove @hardy-s @fuckinghurricanesoul @secretsweetscollectionblog @mrswinterhater @11mb0 @tamtam-go92 @derptatosaur @brianandthemays @phantom-fangirl-stuff @the-hysterical-queen @rogerofmylife @notevenlxvely @discodeakyy @x1975sos @16wiishes @jennycidesstuff @partydulce @melros-e @onevisionliz

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy #roger taylor smut #roger taylor x you #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor fluff #ben hardy x you #ben hardy smut #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy fanfic #queen fanfic #bohemian rhapsody fanfic #borhap fanfic #bedofroses #roger taylor imagine #ben hardy imagine #queen imagines #bohemian rhapsody imagine

[la-knight]

BOOKS I (RE)READ IN 2018: FURTHERMORE BY TAHEREH MAFI

"Alice Alexis Queensmeadow, 12, rates three things most important: Mother, who wouldn’t miss her; magic and color, which seem to elude her; and Father, who always loved her. Father disappeared from Ferenwood with only a ruler, almost three years ago. But she will have to travel through the mythical, dangerous land of Furthermore, where down can be up, paper is alive, and left can be both right and very, very wrong. Her only companion is Oliver whose own magic is based in lies and deceit. Alice must first find herself—and hold fast to the magic of love in the face of loss." "Red was ruby, green was fluorescent, yellow was simply incandescent. Color was life. Color was everything. Color, you see, was the universal sign of magic." "Love, it turned out, could both hurt and heal." "Narrow-mindedness will only get you as far as Nowhere, and once you're there, you're lost forever.” "Alice was an odd girl, even for Ferenwood, where the sun occasionally rained and the colors were brighter than usual and magic was as common as a frowning parent." "Making magic is far more interesting than making sense." So I actually read this book a few months ago and then recently reread it via audio so I could remember all the details for this review. I was first introduced to Tahereh Mafi’s work through her book Shatter Me, her debut novel. Ironically, it wasn’t through any of the ways I normally hear about books - Booktube, Goodreads, my best friend, Booklr - but from my husband’s aunt. She runs - or used to run, not sure if she’s still doing it - a book review blog. And she posted a review of Shatter Me and I was like, “What a weird, interesting writing style, lemme check this out.” At this point the entire Shatter Me Trilogy plus novellas had been published and I devoured all of them (still need to review those, too). So when I heard Tahereh Mafi was writing a middle grade book, I got super excited! Especially because this was during a time when I was too stressed out to read any YA, since most of the YA I like involves having to save the world and all the stress that entails. I need to lay out some trigger warnings real quick: the main character, Alice? Her mom is incredibly abusive, both emotionally and physically. It’s treated as not such a big deal in the book, which is honestly the story’s only real flaw, but it’s bad. It took me seven tries and resorting to an audiobook (and even with a fantastic narrator, that short audiobook took me almost a month to get through) because the abuse was so bad. So:

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE OF A CHILD BY THEIR PARENT

Let’s get started, yo! First of all, the setting. OMG. See, I love tthis thing called Victorian fairy tales, which is something you can find in books like Mary Poppins - these super fantastical bits of whimsy that just warm your heart and make you grin because they’re so creative and fun. In the Mary Poppins books, you can jump into chalk drawings and go to a circus amidst the stars and make friends with a woman who sells living candy-cane horses. In Catherynne Valente’s Fairyland series, there are shadow balls and talking phonographs. And in Furthermore, there’s light raining down from the sky in literal drops, sticks of magic you use like money, and forests full of invisible berries. The way the world is put together and described, so full of color and imagination, is awesome and beautiful and I could picture it perfectly. It reminded me in all the best ways of books like The Phantom Tollbooth (one of my favorites). But I wouldn’t want to live there, because Ferenwood is full of colorism and ick. Alice, the female lead, is an albino in a world where color is important and the darker you are, the more magical you’re considered to be. So Alice gets treated like garbage. 

Also I think Alice may be autistic, but I don’t know if she’s deliberately coded autistic or if Tahereh Mafi did it by accident while trying to make Alice eccentric, but she comes across as autistic. I’ve actually begun to pay more attention to that sort of the thing in recent years, being autistic myself, and I see it a lot - authors giving their characters autistic characteristics, often without meaning to. I just touch on it here because Alice is already treated badly for being albino, but she’s also considered a freak because of the way she behaves - like an autistic preteen. And I wonder if Tahereh Mafi did that on purpose as a sort of commentary or not, because while Alice is treated badly by the people of Ferenwood for her behavior, the Narrator (who is an actual character in the story; love when that happens) always sides with Alice in this regard. The storyline is sweet and I love it. Alice tries to compete in the magical testing all the preteens do on their twelfth birthday, and so she dances. And her dancing is magical but it’s not Magical, you know? So she fails the test. Well, turns out a boy who passed the test the year before, Oliver (the brat), needs Alice’s help fulfilling a quest - rescuing Alice’s missing dad. So they go on a quest together, although Alice hates Oliver (and rightly so, he’s rude). They go to a dozen different and cool places, all of which are dangerous and all of which are different. I wish we could’ve spent more time in those places but I understand why we didn’t. The only annoying thing is there’s an origami fox on the cover but it only pops up in one of the worlds for like two pages and then it’s gone and I thought we could spend more time both in that world and with that creature since it ended up on the cover. But alas, not. I understand why - middle grade is often cursed to be short, especially if it’s the author’s first MG novel ever. Once you get big and bad like Rick Riordan you can start tossing out gihugic tomes like Son of Neptune or Blood of Olympus on the regular. Oliver’s reason for needing Alice was one I didn’t see coming, nor was her magical talent - a talent they hint at throughout the book but never explain until near the end, at the perfect moment. I thought it was an interesting commentary on how young girls perceive themselves, that Alice hates this marvelous, amazing talent she has of bringing color into the world from nothing...because she can’t use it to change how she looks. Society has trained her already, by the age of twelve, to discount something incredible about herself because she can’t use it to make herself into what society wants her to be. That’s pretty impressive for a book this short. I loved some of the more deliberate messages in the work - the thing I mentioned about society’s pressures on young girls, and also that it’s okay to tell boys to screw off if they’re mean to you, and to have hope and to look for second chances (Alice thinks she only has one chance to pass the test and believes her life is over when she fails, only to find out she can try again the next year). I love all of that, and the lyrical and whimsical quality of the prose, and the world building is so creative and also makes me a bit hungry (people eat magic in this book, among other things; I wonder what it tastes like). Now...let’s talk about the abuse. That’s my biggest issue with the book. Alice’s mother is a total bitch. And not in a cool, kickass way like the lady in the show Empire. She’s vicious, she’s cruel, and she’s abusive. Alice knows - and the Narrator confirms - that she turned bad when her husband went missing, and apparently the worry for him and the strain of raising four kids on her own is making her hard and sad, but I don’t give a shit. I was hoping Tahereh Mafi would’ve gone all Hansel and Gretel on this lady and when Alice comes home with her dad, the wife’s dead or something. She beats Alice (at one point she beat Alice for chasing a boy out of the place where she was sleeping, even though he kept staring at her in her sleeping clothes, because apparently the boy - Oliver - had the right to break into their barn at 3AM and ogle Alice???), she verbally abuses Alice, she sends her to bed regularly without dinner, is constantly criticizing, won’t hug her or kiss her, and - this one really got me, for some reason - forces her to do illegal things. Those invisible berries I mentioned? Alice can find them and bring back whole baskets because of her magical gift, and so her mom sends her out to pick them all the time. If she brings home enough, her mom smiles. If she doesn’t, her mom yells and calls her names and sometimes beats her. Guess what? Picking those berries is illegal. We don’t find this out until much later in the book, but it is. The thing I didn’t like about the berries is that Oliver, who’s thirteen, is less concerned about Alice’s mother beating her for not picking enough contraband berries and instead focuses on how her ability to find the berries in the first place means Alice has really impressive magic. NOBODY seems to care how much Alice is being abused, not even the Narrator. The Narrator sympathizes with Alice’s hurt feelings and despair over her missing Father, but it’s never objectively stated that her mom is abusing her AND SHE IS. Yeah, her mom is sooo glad to have her back after Alice almost dies on her trip with Oliver, but so what? My roommate’s mom is so abusive that my roommate’s clergy leaders, doctors, and psychological therapist all said my roommate needed to cut ties with said mom, even though my roommate’s mom has also exhibited the same kind of “oh baby I’m so sorry, I love you so much” bullshit. That’s what abusers do. So I hate Alice’s mom. She literally makes her daughter feel like if she doesn’t risk her life numerous times AND bring her father back, there is no chance her mother will ever love her. And if she pulls that stuff off (which she does), then MAYBE her mother will love her. Nuh-uh. Nope. Hate that bitch. Other than that, I really loved this book. The characters felt real (Alice is me, but without my anger), Even the ones I didn’t like were still REAL, and well-drawn. The world building and word choice is fantastic. Basically, if you can get past the evil mom, read this book. World Building: 1 star Realism: 1 star Word Choice: 1 star Plot: 1 star Characterization: 1 star - ¼ star because Oliver Newbanks is an obnoxious little creep - 1 star because the mom is AN ABUSIVE EVIL BITCH - ¼ star because NOBODY DOES ANYTHING ABOUT THAT +½ star because Alice is amazing and has a genius brain and I love her Total score: 4/5 stars Would I Buy It: Yes! I own it and loved it enough I got the sequel for Christmas (in...2017...I've been sitting on this review for months...)! Would I Recommend: yes, but with trigger warnings. Again, highly abusive evil bitch mom who somehow doesn’t die.

#books of 2018 #book review #aesthetic #Furthermore #Tahereh Mafi

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Qi Flows for Her

Chapter Five

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC x Bucky Barnes  |  Word Count: 5112 Warnings: Language, angst

Celine made sure she was last onto the jet where she took Bucky’s previous seat in the back, darkened corner, as far away from the others as she could get. She snapped the hair band wrapped around her wrist, using the physical pain to remind herself to breathe. Her hair hung forward, hiding her face. Back to the straight, dark brown of before, she listened as they murmured about the rest of what they found and looked after Peter who had been knocked out for his own good.

God… that had hurt like rejection hadn’t hurt in years.

Hunched over, she leaned her face against the wall, the metal cool against her skin. A tear worked its way down her cheek. She’d known this was going to happen, had been saying so since the beginning. Yet, she’d still chanced to hope this time would be different. This time someone would see her for who she truly was and not react with fear.

Why do I bother to hope? She snapped the elastic at her wrist again.

“Celine…” The whisper of Charles' voice only made her flinch.

“Go away, Charles…”

“Darling, I can feel your pain.”

“Pain you have a part in instigating. Go away, Charles!”

“Celine… please…”

She sighed. “What did you expect? That I’d come here, reveal myself, and everything would be tea and crumpets? Go… the fuck… away!” She gave a mighty push and slammed her shields closed.

Her inner demons were relentless after. The voices of hate and disgust hissed and wailed in her head. The self-loathing caused her to wrap her hands around her middle. She was an abomination. A freak. A thing to be feared and despised. No one wanted her. No one would care if she just walked away.

Disappeared.

Died.

The phone in her pocket vibrated.

She ignored it.

It continued to go off for the next fifteen minutes straight, becoming an annoying vibration against her thigh until she finally dug it free. “What?” she sighed, expecting Charles.

“Little girl, next time you pick the fuckin’ phone up on the first ring!” The snarling voice of Logan had her lip twitching.

“Yes, papa,” she sassed.

“What the fuck happened, Celine?” he demanded.

Sighing, she glanced through her hair at the others speaking quietly away from her. “Can’t, Logan. Not now.”

“You’re on the plane?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they hurt you?” he snarled.

“No.”

“Not physically, you mean. Dammit, Charles! I told you sending her was a bad idea!”

It almost made her smile. The Wolverine was highly protective of those he called family. “I’m a big girl, Logan,” she murmured. “I tie my own shoes and everything. I’ll be fine.”

He huffed a dismissive bark of sound. “You ain’t fine! I can tell you ain’t fine! Do I need to come kick around a few super soldiers again? Cause I fuckin’ will!”

“The way I heard it, it sounded like a draw, though Steve said you’re a heavy son of a gun.”

“He’s one to talk,” Logan grumbled.

Leaning her head back against the wall, Celine smiled slightly. “Put up a bit of a fight, did he?”

He snorted. “Decent enough.”

“Good. You were getting full of yourself again.”

“Tricky little witch,” he scoffed. Silence descended for a few seconds before he murmured, “Celine… you can come home. I can replace you if you want.”

She wiped the tear from her cheek. “Nope. Charles sent me. I’m staying until they kick me out.” No matter how much it hurt.

“Look, if you’re doing this to punish Charles cause you’re pissed, then don’t. He’s already hurt you shut him out.”

This time she snorted. “He deserved it.”

“Yeah, probably,” he chuckled. “Take care of yourself, darlin’. And if you need me?”

“I’ll let you know, Logan. Tell Rogue I miss her.”

He grunted just before the line going dead.

She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and returned to her silent reflection, feeling only slightly better.

When the jet landed what felt like hours later, she was down the ramp and into the tower as if the hounds of hell were nipping her heels. To her mind, it wasn't far from the truth.

***

Steve and Bucky watched her go, neither knowing how to fix what they’d wrought.

Peter was alright, the bullet nothing more than a flesh wound, but the way the boy had reacted to her… they’d quite literally watched her heart break.

She was far more powerful than they’d realized. So much so, she’d plucked a soldier off the mountain and ate him before throwing something, likely his soul, into... hell? The underworld? Somewhere else? They had no idea.

Were they a little disconcerted? Sure. Who wouldn’t the hell be? But were they scared of her? No. The shock had kept them mute though, something they now realized had done a lot of harm.

She’d sat, huddled and silent in the corner, gradually curling in on herself, getting smaller with each passing moment until her phone had rung.

Steve had been about to go over and force her to answer when she’d finally dug it free on her own.

The irate voice of Logan was one he’d never forget, and he’d exchanged an eye roll with Bucky. He was a gruff son of a gun, but intensely loyal and protective, especially of Charles. Clearly, that protection extended to Celine.

Logan’s accusation, the comment about hurting her, had caused both of them to stiffen in offence. Her denial and his rewording had jabbed them both firmly with guilt.

Logan was right. They hadn’t hurt her physically. Emotionally? In her heart?

Yes.

“Shit,” Steve hissed softly once the others had exited.

“More like fuck, punk. We screwed up.” Bucky sighed, making his way toward Celine’s seat where he crouched down and swiped his fingers through the dark droplets on the floor. “She’s been bleeding.”

“What?” Steve jolted, coming quickly to Buck’s side.

“Yeah. We should check on her.”

“Pretty sure she doesn’t want to see us, pal.”

“So? We fucked up. We should fix it before it gets worse.” Bucky got to his feet and headed for the doors.

They walked in silence, both feeling intensely guilty.

She'd done some incredible things tonight, but they hadn’t told her so. Had her force been a little excessive? Sure, but seeing Peter take a bullet had Steve longing to hit the asshole sniper with his shield, so he understood how upset Celine must have been.

When Natasha stepped into the corridor, blocking them from getting on the elevator,  Steve heard Bucky sigh and tried not to echo it.

“Need something, Nat?” Steve asked.

“I hope you get it now. You'll send her on her way?”

Steve frowned and shook his head. “Why? Celine’s part of this team.”

“Really!” she snapped. “After seeing what she did? What she is?”

“What I saw was a powerful woman who was treated like a freak tonight by her own team. Me included. She's still a person. Still Celine. Her powers don't make her anything different.”

“Shit! You've got a hard-on for her too! I knew Barnes was balls deep, but I expected better of you, Cap.”

Bucky’s hand wrapped around her throat and slammed her into the wall. “You're pushing the line, Natalia,” he snarled softly. “Celine may be Styx, she may be ridiculously powerful, but she's bruised, broken, and your snide comments aren't doing anyone any good!”

“She’ll destroy this team!”

“You said the same thing of me when Steve brought me in. The ghost. The Winter Soldier. The HYDRA weapon. Fuck you, Nat! She's no different!”

She blinked at him, stunned. “She's completely different! Did you not watch her kill a man tonight by eating his life force? Was that simply my imagination?”

“And I kill people with a gun or a knife. So what?”

“You're not about to take us all out in our sleep!”

“But I could if I wanted to!” he roared. “So could you, goddamnit, but you don't see any of us trying to shove you out the door!”

Laying a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve urged his friend to let Natasha go. Once he had, Steve rounded on her himself. “You've taken issue with Celine since the moment she arrived. What's the beef, Nat? What's the real problem here?”

“This is the real issue! You're both so blinded by the hot new piece of ass; you can't see the danger she presents.”

“And me, Natasha? Am I also blinded by a hot piece of ass?” Wanda asked, appearing behind them. She looked at him, and Steve felt a clutch around his heart. The red wash of power in her eyes showed how disconcerted she was feeling. “But then, I am also one to be feared, to be treated like a freak. To be caged and collared because of what I am. What Hydra made me.”

“Wanda, no… I…” Natasha shook her head. “You're different.”

“How?” she asked coming closer. “I use similar powers. I can kill nearly as easily. You also locked me up to keep me away from people because I was a danger to society. Because you didn't trust me. Celine has shown me nothing but kindness after I have proved myself untrustworthy three times,” her voice rasped with self-hatred. “I keep telling myself, I cannot control other people's fear, only my own. Tonight… I failed at both.”

She walked away, and Steve's heart cracked. It appeared many of them were regretting what happened tonight.

“Celine is part of this team. She stays part of this team,” Steve said with finality.

“Fine. But my working with her comes as a last resort. I don't trust her to have my back.” Nat spun and headed away from where Wanda had gone.

Bucky waited only until she was out of earshot before muttering, “I'm not sure I trust you'll have hers.”

“Buck,” Steve sighed.

“I ain't ever seen her like this, Steve. She's been confrontational and just…”

“Nasty,” Sam muttered, wandering down the hall. “I'll go talk to her.”

“You alright with what happened tonight?” Steve asked.

“Alright?” He took a deep breath, eyes widening as he shrugged. “Not sure I’d say alright. Am I gonna throw a hissy fit? Nah. I kinda think Scott’s got the right idea. Better with us than against us.” He patted Steve's shoulder. “Am I gonna think twice about pissing her off? Hell yeah!” Chuckling, Sam continued on after Natasha.

“That's four,” Bucky murmured, a smirk twitching his lip. “Let's go poke the bear, see if she'll forgive us.”

“I think you mean the dragon. Damn that was cool,” Steve grinned.

“Now you sound like Parker.” Bucky’s face fell as they got on the elevator. “You think the kid will come round?”

Steve sighed. “Hope so.”

She’d been so happy spending time with Peter. Having the kid look at her in fear had just killed her.

When they stepped off the elevator, they had the answer hit them full force.

“Celine! Please!” Peter was standing outside her room, one hand pressed to his ribs, the other banging on her door. “I'm sorry! Let me explain!”

“Peter? Shouldn't you be in the med wing?” Steve asked sternly.

The kid shook his head. “Not until I apologize. Not until I tell her how sorry…” Pain took his breath, not all of it physical.

“Okay, kid.” Taking Peter by the elbow, Steve held him up. “How long you been here?” he asked.

Seeing as how the kid was still in his suit, he doubted Parker had even been to see Bruce, or if he had, the kid had snuck out.

“A while,” Peter mumbled.

“And she hasn't answered?”

Peter shook his head.

“FRIDAY located Celine.”

“Celine is on the roof. Captain? It appears she's is quite distraught. She is standing on the roof ledge.”

“What?!” Three voices bellowed before all of them scrambled for the elevator. It took them to the glassed-in common room where they barreled out the door to hit the exterior stairs which would take them to the roof.

Steve grabbed Peter's shoulder. “Are you alright to go around? If something goes sideways…” He didn't need to say Peter was the only one capable of catching Celine.

“I'm good, Cap!” Peter turned to go.

Steve dragged him back. “You stay out of sight. Let us talk to her before you do anything; you get me?”

“Yes, sir!” Peter nodded.

“Go.” He gave the kid a small shove and sprinted up the stairs after Bucky. His heart stuttered when she came into view.

Hair blowing back in the wind, balanced on the balls of her feet, she stood, hands relaxed at her sides, staring out over the city.

“Celine?” Bucky called quietly.

“Doll, you want to come down from there?” Steve asked, both of them edging closer.

Her head turned only enough to show them her profile. The tear streaks were impossible to miss. “Not particularly, Captain. I like the view.”

“Sweetheart, we'd really like it if you came down from there,” Bucky muttered, moving slowly forward.

“I am not your sweetheart, Sergeant. I am not your doll, your baby, your darlin’. I am Celine. I am… a vampire. I am Styx. And I am always to be feared.” She turned to walk the narrow edge of the building.

“Celine, please come down.” Steve would beg if he had to.

She paused, looked at him, and sighed. “You believe I do this, walk this ledge because I wish to hurt myself?” A snort of derision escaped her. “I wish to clear my mind, nothing more.” She turned back to face the city, turning her back on them. “I have no wish for company, especially from those who see me as something to be despised.”

Striding forward, Bucky reached for her arm only to have her dance out of his reach. “Celine!”

“What, Sergeant? Are you here to look at me with fear again? Are you going to tell me to leave? Explain how I am too much a freak to be part of the Avengers?” Night seemed to flow into her, swirl around her. It darkened her hair and brightened her eyes. She stepped backward, crouched, and snarled like an angry animal. “Then you tell me now to go, and I will pack my things!”

“No, Celine,” Steve said, holding up his hands. He approached with caution like he would a wounded creature. “Yes, you surprised us with what you did, maybe even spooked us at first, but we're not afraid of you.”

“Yes, you were!” she almost howled. “And after you said…” She shook her head. “I knew you would fear me. Everyone fears me. I should never have hoped for anything different.”

The words were so soft they could barely hear them, but they hit harder than the Hulk.

Bucky walked toward her, hands raised. “Read me, my aura, my emotions. I’m not afraid of you, Celine. Steve’s not afraid. Sam’s not afraid. Peter isn’t afraid. Wanda isn’t afraid. Come down. Talk to us. Let us show you.” He held out his hand.

“No… no, you lie!” She gave a violent shake of her head. “I won't look! I won't! I can't take anymore! Why are you so cruel?”

Peter landed on the ledge a few feet away. “Celine, I am so sorry.”

She whipped to face him, and Bucky lunged.

His arms closed around her, dragged her from the edge and back to the center of the roof. Expecting a struggle, he held her tightly, but she only sagged, eyes wide and staring at Peter.

The curl smoothed from her hair, the colour lightened. Her eyes lost their glow, and her face fell. Instead of struggling, she turned into Bucky, turned away from Peter, as a distressed cry escaped her lips.

“No, no… you were afraid. I made you afraid. You wouldn’t… let me help…” she moaned, clinging to Bucky.

This time it was the devastation on Peter’s face which broke Steve’s heart. “Celine, doll face Peter’s sorry. He, like us, didn’t mean to hurt you. But you were pretty impressive tonight. More than we’d expected. Read us. See for yourself. It's not a joke.”

“Promise,” Bucky murmured and stroked her arm. “No one's gonna be cruel, darlin’. Give us a chance.”

She bit her lip and looked between the two of them. Such pain shadowed her eyes Steve's heart felt like it tore open for her and whatever trauma had forced her to this point, to where she felt the need to wall herself off from everyone.

A moment passed before her amber eyes filled with relief and she sagged against Bucky. “Oh…” the word flew free on a heavy exhale.

“Can you forgive us, baby?” Steve threaded his fingers through her hair, gently pulling her head back so he could see her eyes.

They were wet, as was her face, so he wiped her cheeks dry. A breath shuddered from her, and she gave a slow nod. She looked as shocked, possibly as stunned as he and Bucky had been when she’d thrown a dragon into the sky and plucked a man off the mountain.

“I thought your dragon was incredible, Celine,” Steve said softly.

“And the way you dealt with the guards on the gate, and the people at the warehouse… amazing,” Bucky smiled.

“You were really spectacular, Celine. I'm… sorry I hurt your feelings,” said Peter, coming closer. “You did… kinda startle me, what with you havin’ just, like, eaten a dude. I promise it won't make me spaz out on you next time.”

“Peter,” she whispered, hands tight to her chest.

“Hug?” he asked, holding out the one arm. The other remaining pressed to his wound.

Bucky let her go, but Celine was hesitant to reach out until Parker gave an exasperated sigh and simply dragged her in via a shot of webbing and hugged her.

“You wanna fix me now?” Peter asked. “That is if it's still okay?”

She nodded a small jerk of her head before placing her green glowing fingers on his side.

His eyes widened in surprise when the pain disappeared. “Wow. Celine, you're so awesome!” He laughed as he lifted her off her feet and swung her around.

“Peter!” she squealed in surprise.

Chuckling, he dropped her to her feet and hugged her tight with both arms. “Thanks, doll,” he drawled, bussing her a kiss to the cheek - bold little shit-eating grin on his face - and darted away. “I'll check-in with Bruce. See ya tomorrow!”

She pressed her fingers to her cheek, eyes full of tears, but a smile was twitching her lips. Turning to face them, her smile broke free. “You people are so messed up.”

Bucky grinned while Steve laughed.

“Maybe it's your previous fri-uh-colleagues who were messed up,” Steve said with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, darlin’,” Bucky smirked, “You just needed a couple’a old guys and a kid to see you for who you really are.”

“Speak for yourself, pal. I ain't old,” Steve snorted.

“Maybe being in the ice that long just froze your self-preservation brain cells,” Celine quipped.

“Then what's Peter’s excuse?” Bucky asked.

“Young and foolish,” she scoffed. “He doesn't know any better.”

Steve shook his head and held out his hand. “C’mon. You were bleeding on the jet. Let’s see it.”

She arched a brow in wry condemnation. “After the last few days, do you honestly think I cannot fix myself?”

He arched one in return, shook his hand and said, “Just give!” It was a fair imitation of what she’d done the day they’d met, causing Bucky to burst out laughing.

Rolling her eyes, Celine stalked forward to hold her hand out palm up. “There, you see? Perfectly fine.”

Steve frowned as he traced his fingers over her palm. “What did you…” he started to ask when it dawned on him what she’d likely done to herself. “Celine…” Heart hurting, guilt filled him for what she’d gone through, those talons of hers digging into her flesh with her anguish. “I am sorry.”

Her eyes softened. “I know, Steve.”

Bucky collected her opposite hand, sighing quietly as he stared at her unmarked flesh. “I promised you I wouldn’t feel any differently and at the first opportunity to prove it, I fucked it up.”

She gave her own sigh, released their hands, and patted both chests. “You are good men, but you are only human. I am,” she shook her head and turned away, “not.”

Steve went after her, grabbing her by the elbow to drag her back against his chest. “You are as human as the two of us. Powerful you may be, but you’re still human, Celine.”

Her eyes brightened, and her hair curled. “I am not. Human’s do not feed off other humans.”

“Your mutation only makes you different, Celine. It doesn’t make you less human.” Bucky’s hand curled around the back of her neck.

Trapped between the two of them again, Steve couldn’t help but notice the heat she radiated like a furnace. People always commented on how hot he or Bucky ran, but Celine seemed to nearly double their temperature. Cupping her chin, he tilted her face up, so her diamond-bright eyes shone for him to see. “You aren’t a freak. You’re an Avenger. We’re all a little… abnormal.” He couldn’t understand how she could’ve grown up in a place like Xavier’s school and view herself so differently from the other mutants. If anything, it should have been a place she fit into fairly well.

“I believe I’m a lot abnormal, Steve,” she chuckled, the curl of her hair growing more prominent as her eyes drifted down to his lips.

Bucky’s hand went from her nape to her throat, pressing up beneath Steve’s to tilt her head back onto his shoulder. “You ain’t the one with the vibranium arm,” he said, smirk growing.

Her eyes watched his lips as well before her tongue darted out, moistening hers.

Steve had never wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he did Celine in that instant. The desire he was trying to contain roared into life.

It sent her eyes darting back to his. They blazed bright, burned into him, filled with distress and sent her jerking away from them both. “Sorry! Sorry. That’s my bad… ha, I should go.” She darted away, down the stairs before either of them could move to stop her.

Groaning, Steve thrust his hand through his hair. “Fuck!”

“No shit,” Bucky muttered, trying to adjust his pants without being overly obvious.

“What the hell keeps happening here?” Steve grumbled.

Sighing, Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know, punk, but…” a wash of red filled his cheeks, “I… kind of like it.”

“What?” he gasped, jerking his head up to look at Bucky.

The metal-armed soldier shrugged. “Feels… good having her between us. I don’t know. She just… fits.”

“Bucky…” Steve shook his head.

“I know, I know. Can’t seduce a recruit,” he huffed. “But Steve, you can’t tell me you don’t feel it. We ain’t talked about it, keep pushin’ it to the side, but we can’t fight what we’re feeling.”

“She won’t even be a friend, Buck. Besides, you just watched her rabbit when she got a hint of something off me. I’m not going to put that pressure on Celine.” Steve stalked toward the stairs. “I don’t even know what the hell is happening! Every time it's just us, you, me, her, it’s….”

“Intense sexual heat?” Bucky chuckled.

“Laugh it up, jackass,” Steve grumbled.

“I’m serious!” he scoffed. Grabbing Steve’s arm, Bucky forced him to stop. “I’m asking this in all seriousness, if she chose me over you, would you be okay with it?”

“Bucky… I… Why are you even going there?”

“It’s a hypothetical, Steve. Just answer the fucking question.”

“I’d have to be, wouldn’t I?”

“But you’d hate it, right?”

Jerking his arm away, Steve snapped, “Yes, damn it! I’d hate it!” and stormed down the stairs.

Bucky simply jumped over the rail to land in front of him. “I’d be the same way!”

Coming to a stop, Steve’s eyes closed in pain. “I know, Buck. I can’t be your rival. I won’t be. I don’t have it in me to go against you, and you know it.”

“Stevie.” Bucky’s hands closed over his shoulders, gripped tight, shook him a little. “You think I could?”

When he looked up, Bucky’s eyes were bright with emotion. The smack which came to Steve’s cheek was anything but light, yet it was full of affection, even as it stung something fierce.  

“You’re my brother, Steve. I wouldn’t ever do that to you. I love you, pal, and we’ve been through too much hell to fight over a girl, even a dame as amazing as Celine. Whatever comes, we’ll figure it out. Besides, she’s skittish as a baby deer,” he sighed. “Doubt it will go anywhere for either of us.”

Both sighed unhappily and continued inside.

***

A little panicked, Celine made her way back to her room, thankful she avoided seeing anyone else. Riding in the elevator, she allowed herself a small amount of hysterical laughter for, sure enough, she’d found herself sandwiched happily - and hornily - between the two soldiers again. Her nature had taken over thanks to her overactive libido, and she’d drawn them in.

And it had felt… good. Too good.

The spike in Steve’s chi had nearly made her moan and beg for a taste. The Captain was potent!

Bucky, too, though slightly more in control, his arousal had shivered through her. It was subtle, like the nip in the air which preceded a snowstorm but it was still delectable.

So intent was she on the near taste she’d had, something she really should be berating herself for, Celine did not notice the aura waiting in her room until her hand was on the doorknob. Steeling her spine, she slowly pushed her door inward.

The lights were on, the one sitting on her couch doing nothing to hide her presence. Natasha smirked smugly at her.

“I do not remember inviting you to my room,” Celine said cautiously, remaining in the doorway.

“You didn’t. Come in, shut the door, and sit down.”

Brow arching, Celine snorted. “I think I will stay where I am.”

Anger flared in her aura before Natasha smoothed it away. “I think… Adeline, you will want to do what I say.”

The use of her real name was so rare, Celine momentarily froze. Closing the door, she moved toward Natasha, growing angrier by the second. “So, you have found my birth name. What of it?”

Picking up a tablet, Nat read, “Born Adeline Evans to one Tammy Evans, drug addict junky, and alcoholic absentee father, Marcus Evans. Ran away from home at thirteen, wanted for questioning in the death of one Franklin Delacore after he was found dead on the floor of your bedroom.”

She refused to flinch, only sat in an armchair and crossed her legs. There was nothing there. Charles had seen to the reports, the heart attack the man had had was ruled as an accident. Her mother’s drugged up ravings were nothing more than the ramblings of a woman out of her mind.

“Lived on the street, it seems from the age of thirteen until fifteen.” Here Nat looked up. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if the police were informed of the mutant Styx whose MO perfectly fits the two cold cases they have from way back when Adeline was a teenage runaway.”

“What do you want, Natasha?” Celine asked, without a hint any of what she’d said had been true.

“Oh, I’m not done yet,” she fairly purred. “There’s also the information about poor Thomas and Jacob. Nasty business that. It really would be a travesty if the new team found out what you’d done to your old team. To your friends.”

“What do you want, Natasha?” Celine asked a second time.

“What I want is for you to leave and never come back, but we can’t always get what we want, so how about what I need?”

Tired of these games, Celine snapped, “Just spit it out, Widow!” Hair curling, nails lengthening, she dug her talons into the cushioned arms of her chair.

Natasha stiffened her entire countenance sharpening. “I’ve safeguards in place, Styx, so think twice about hurting me. Anything happens to me here, or on a mission, you're a part of… all this information goes public.” She smiled, a predatory baring of teeth. “It would be a pity if the Professor's involvement in all your messes came to light.”

The cold weight of fear wrapped around Celine’s heart. “Get to the point, Natasha.”

“I see how you look at them you know. Steve and Bucky. They’re too blinded by the pretty girl to see the monster you really are. You're going to stay away from them; you're going to stay away from all my friends. You'll limit your involvement with the team outside of missions.” She got slowly to her feet, triumph and bravado coating her innate fear of what Celine was. “Isolate yourself, Celine, or I'll do it for you. Permanently.” Striding toward the door, Natasha dropped the tablet in Celine’s lap, the faces of Jacob and Thomas staring up at her from the screen.

Celine spoke softly, “Be careful, Widow. What you try so hard to protect… may not take kindly to your methods.”

“You’ll never tell them. You try so hard to be human, fit in, but you're a monster. I know it. You know it. If they knew what you'd done….” Natasha let the words hang as she shut the door and walked away.

Celine stared down at her lap and lightly touched first one and then the other face.

Natasha may have found the information on the boys, she may know some of Charles involvement, she suspected the Widow had likely bugged her room, but Natasha didn't know everything. She couldn't for there were no records of what Celine was beyond the mental knowledge shared by four people.

But the two smiling faces on the tablet in her lap, the one lost and the one…. She couldn't bear to think about it. The pain it caused was simply too great.

She placed her hand flat on the screen and ignored the tears which fell down her face as she cried for things she could never make right, and for the life she might have possibly had here.

Next Chapter

#qi flows for her #Steve Rogers #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier #the winter soldier fanfiction #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #x-men au #x-men fanfiction

[sagittariusboyfriend]

What have been some creepy encounters you've experienced? Story please?

ive waited quite some time to respond to this message, like literally a long ass time lol, probably more than a year, sorry. i feel like i have several encounters to tell you about, but what im going to relay to whomever might be reading this right now is a thing that went on over the course of an entire year.

quick backstory: during the better part of 2017 i lived with my then boyfriend (who now is just my best friend since we broke up in october this year) in the old parts of the city center. all buildings in that area are from around 1870, and the building where we lived is one of the first ones to have been erected. his aparment was on ground level and it has all the features of turn of the century housing with the fireplace, original floors, weird nooks and crannies etc, and looks as if it was meant to be lived in by service people/kitchen personnel. it also had its original door (i suppose) with the kind of springy locking mechanism where you have to turn the key and pull down the handle real hard simultaneously to open from the outside, the knob is very tough to turn from the inside, and it locks itself instantly once you close it (so if you forget your keys youre basically screwed). it makes a loud brassy springy clicking noise when the lock shuts or opens. takes a lot of effort to open this old door and its loud, is what im saying. the entire apartment is all original details, the flooring in the corridor has its original wood planks, original ventilation, weird but beautiful glass panels on the door etc.

the key and the door unlocking from inside

first off, when he moved in, the landlord was missing a key in the set of four. my then boyfriend, lets call him C, didnt really think about it. he moved in, gave his dad one of the extra keys. the first weird thing that happened was when C got back from work in the afternoon maybe two weeks after moving in. in the middle of the corridor, on the floor, he sees the missing key. like smack dab in the middle of the narrow corridor leading from hallway to the bathroom, next to his boots. its too far in to have been thrown in by someone through the letter slot in the door, and could not have been dropped there by neither him nor his father since they had all of their keys. so he’s like, weird, but doesnt really think about it. he also told me that around that time he heard coughing from the corridor when inside his bedroom (it opens up to the right from the corridor once you step inside the apartment), but also waved it off since it might as well have been neighbours just outside in the hall.

next weird thing that happens is after we had started dating and i pretty much lived there with him, and this time i experienced it. i started work around noon whereas C left around 6 in the morning. so im in bed and its maybe 10 o’clock, and i wake up to that loud, springy clicking noise of the locking mechanism in the door. and im like, what is he doing home at this time? so i get up, but no one is there. the door is also juuust a little bit askew, as if someone was going outside but then decided not to, like its just shoved open enough for the lock to click open, but the door isnt opened, its still within the width of the doorframe if you get what i mean. so i look outside and the hall is empty. i should have been able to hear steps in the very echo-y stairwell (which is also old and the acoustics are fantastic because we hear everytime a neighbour passes by, and subsequently opens the building entrance door which is also a loud, heavy door), but heard neither steps, up or down the stairs in the hall, nor anyone opening the heavy entrance door, or any evidence of human activity. all is quiet. i get a bit freaked out, because that means that unless someone else had a key, our door was unlocked from inside.

i tell C when he gets back, and after this is where shit starts to ACTUALLY go down.

im going to try to remember all of this in the correct order, but i know it started in january 2017, and went on until he moved out in december.

the song in the hallway

C talks a lot in his sleep. sometimes he even sings, he speaks in english (we’re swedish) and  he has been known to get up and take a shower at one in the morning while still asleep thinking hes late for work. for those who are on heavy sleeping medication, u get it. its not weird, mostly its funny, and its just because of the medication. these things go on literally every night and it was a bit hard to fall asleep to loud talking and incoherent words sometimes because he used to go to bed three-four hours earlier than me, but i managed just fine. one night we were in bed, it wasnt that late but C was asleep, i was on my phone next to him. i hear this weird melody being hummed, thinking its coming from C i take out my earplugs and check, but its coming from the fucking hallway. again, no one outside in the stairs, just someone or something humming a melody in the hallway. i remember my hair standing up all over my body and i was glad i slept closest to the wall, C shielding me from being viewed directly from the hallway. somehow i manage to fall asleep. and this part is going to sound weird and like its made up, im very aware, but having been through this crap i dont really care because i know it happened: the morning after C was off from work, and i for once woke up before he did. if i wake him up and his medication hasnt ‘wore off’ yet i guess (dont really know how that works) he’ll be disoriented and it takes a few minutes for his brain to register that hes awake and he can speak coherently. i did not poke him, i did not try to wake him up, but all of a sudden i hear him humming that same melody, very much deep asleep. that freaked me out.

the mimicking begins

another night around that time, i was up at around 2-3 am to go to the bathroom. i wiggle out of bed, out into the corridor, at the end of the corridor is the bathroom. when im done, i scurry back into the bedroom, information of value here i guess is i always sleep with my socks on so im wearing socks, aka i dont make a lot of noise when i get up. when im back in bed, looking at my phone, i hear footsteps - from the corridor. the freakiest thing is its like they are imitating the way i walked back from the bathroom, i can so CLEARLY hear sockless, BARE feet on the creaky floor of the hallway, literally stepping at the same pace i did. that was my first thought; someone is imitating my footsteps. i can hear them from behind the wall in the hallway, coming to a stop at the opening into the bedroom. like someone is standing there, watching. i get so scared i hide under the covers and press myself close to C and cant stop feeling icy shivers down my spine. i also cant stop thinking that someone or something waited for me in the kitchen, then walked behind me, mimicking me, and is now standing at the beedroom threshold, watching me. somehow i fall asleep, or i dont, i cant remember.at this point, im thinking somethings up with that hallway.

the poorly covered hole

this part isnt anything scary/supernatural really, just uncomfortable and kinda sets the tone for living in this apartment at the time: in the bedroom, C had placed a clothing rack next to the old 1900s floor-to-ceiling ventilation pipe that is plastered into the wall in the corner. literally just a wide ass pipe in the corner of the room that isnt in use anymore. behind the rack, leaning against the pipe, he had put a rarely used pink neon tube light and i decided it would look cool to try it out, but it was dusty in that little nook thing where it was so i had to clean it up a bit. while moving the clothing rack to vacuum, i realize there is a hole at least as big as my hand in the side of the pipe. i was like ??the frick is this? and i poke into it and there is just this thin paper membrane covering it. you could almost fit an entire head through there, and i can literally feel wafts of cold wind moving through it. there probably used to be an attached pipe of some sort to allow smoke from the kitchen to go up into the ventilation like a hundred years ago, but the thought that this at least 1 meter wide pipe, wide enough to fit a person, goes up through probably all apartments above us, up through the attic, ending as an open chimney in the roof, has this big hole in it is just… unsettling to me. obviously the pipe is not in use anymore, but that kind of only made it scarier. ive seen enough scary movies for that to make me feel a bit paranoid lol. i was almost expecting a hand to push through that paper when i touched it. but i covered it back up with the clothing rack and nothing really happened with that.

the mirror incident

one night, me and C were getting ready to go out. im getting ready in the hallway, because thats where the big wall-sized full figure mirrors are (of course). C comes out of the bathroom, runs past me infront of me, veering off to the left into the bedroom, wearing only underwear. i look after him in the mirror, i can see him in the bedroom, in front of his clothing rack. im fixing my hair at the time, both hands on my head. to my direct left is the front door and the space with our shoes and jackets. right in front of the door, for a split moment while im turning back to keep looking at myself in the mirror, i see what looks exactly like C but paler, wearing only underwear, standing in the same position as me, turned away from me as if the thing is also looking in a mirror. heads on its head like its fixing its hair, just like me. imitating me. i get shivers just typing this down. i tell C what i just saw, i literally went: ”uh C? i just saw a man infront of the door”, dumbfounded, and we both got a bit freaked out, and got out of there pretty quickly.

learning about demons

a few weeks later, C invites his friend to comes to visit. im not there at that time so i never met her, but she apparently had a knack for sensing ghosts and picking up on energies etc. he told me that when he got up to get them more wine from the kitchen and left her alone in the couch in the bedroom, she said she really felt very uncomfortable sitting with her back to the hallway corridor. she also told him that ghosts and spirits are usually not malevolent and you can get by fine living in a ‘haunted’ house. but when he told her what we had experienced so far, she told him that ghosts usually dont behave that way, and that a rule is that if something is imitating or mimicking you, its probably not a ghost, but might be signs of fucking DEMONIC ACTIVITY. apparently demons like to mock and impersonate people. friendly caspers dont do that. fun.

realizing the triangle/cursed ground

so, yeah. weird things kept happening. but we had jobs, sometimes you just gotta ignore that shit and try not to live your life terrified of demons. which we still were for the record; i dont think we ever left each other alone in that apartment for any longer than necessary after that, i remember C actually staying at his dads during the time i went away to see my family.

anyway, when we had started dating C had introduced this podcast to me. its a swedish one where a guy called jack reads creepypastas, analyzes spooky stuff, old folklore, all that stuff, and also reads original content and real stories written by listeners. its really good and really creepy. so that podcast had been going for maybe two years by then so i had a LOT to catch up with, wich wasnt a bad thing at all. i remember by this time is was summer and i was out on the street smoking a cigarette after doing dishes, and the episode i was listening to was about the last of the execution spots/gallow hills (?? i guess is the correct term? not sure) in sweden. remember, we lived in the old part of the city center, in the northern part of the city. very old buildings, very old everything. so jack commences to talk about the famous last gallow hill in [our city] and where it was located, when the final execution took place and for what, how many people had been killed there and its entire bloody history. i almost drop my cigarette, because he says it was located on zenithgatan (”zenith street”), and where the gallows used to be there is now a kindergarten. so im on our street, just outside our kitchen windows, looking right at that specific kindergarten. just across the main road. i will provide a screenshot of a map and a street view of what i was looking at to let you know i am not making this up:

so the street we lived on is called döbelnsgatan (”döbeln street”, döbeln is apparently a city in germany, i just googled that), at the very end of the street, our citys main old cemetary is juuust beyond our line of sight to the right from the kitchen windows and where i was standing. however, across from us: zenithgatan, with all of its bloody history. i couldnt help but to wonder how far the blood could had flown from there and where the bodies had been thrown, if this entire part of town is built on bloody ground etc. it really gave me massive creeps.

a few years later (which would be a few months ago, when i moved in to the room where i live presently) i happened to land a conversation about ghosts with my new flatmate. turns out she also used to live in those neighbourhoods, in an apartment on the third floor literally overlooking the cemetary, but on celciusgatan, which would be the next street over from döbelnsgatan (see map). and she told me, without me having said anything at all about all of this, that that part of town including her apartment has always been haunted. she used to see a shadow of a man through frosted glass doors, moving around in rooms that were closed when both she and her son and her sister were in the kitchen. she didnt experience any malice however, and also had someone come check it out for her, but apparently she just had nice ghosts. but we agreed that yeah, these buildings are literallty inbetween a cemetary and the gallows; there are probably bound to be a lot of lost souls wandering around.

this could also be over-analyzing it, but if you draw lines from the cemetary to the site of the executions to döbelnsgatan/celciusgatan, it makes a perfect triangle. while googling the translation of ‘döbeln’ just now it says right in the wikipedia description that it is located ‘somewhat in the middle of a triangle, made up by three cities’. coincidence, perhaps. probably. but still. by now im pretty conviced of anything that could hold any significance about all of this.

the painting

later on, maybe by a few months, and C tells me when i get home from work that he had woken up that day, after i went to work, from the painting atop of his big secretaire/chiffonier/bookcase (its really a big piece of heavy furtinure, but lets call it bookcase just to be simple) coming crashing down behind it. that painting had stood there since january, at least 9-10 months, and had not fallen down ONCE. it was leaning against the wall, perched safely and steady on the bookcase, with at least a centimeter bookcase until the gap between wall and furniture. i remember thinking last time i looked it was covered in dust because no one even as much as dusted that thing off, and there had been no weird vibrations in the walls that would have shook it either. by this point we’re both very, very uncomfortable in this apartment.

the painting and the hollow in the wall

and here comes the final thing that happened before he moved out, the part that we have on film. ill have to ask my ex for the footage if anyones interested in it, which is fine.

C was doing a collaboration with some people on instagram, an educational account about depression, self-harm, anxiety and such. they gave him the assignment to film himself talking about personal experiences, i think they wanted maybe 13 videos or something like that, the theme being ‘death’ (those videos are still up, im unsure if they posted this one as it kind of strayed from the mental health stuff a bit, but i know C has it still). so at this time - maybe september or october? i really dont know exactly when this was, i could probably scroll on their instagram account but im too lazy - he was filming himself a lot. so, he brought up the painting crashing, and filmed us both while demonstrating how it physically could not have moved and crashed down behind the bookcase because of the way it stood on top of it. it would have been one thing if it fell forward, but then it would have landed on its front and fallen in front of the bookcase, probably shattered the glass. but it fell BEHIND it. on camera, you can see my hands pushing on it to demonstrate the way it went down into that snug space inbetween. you would have had to physically push on it, at least a centimeter back, from the front. so for some reason, i get the very random idea to knock on the wall behind it. which means, i stand in the corridor and knock on the corridor wall that divides the bedroom from the hallway. and i swear to god, this is ON FILM. i knock all over the wall and its all concrete - except for THE SPOT EXACTLY BEHIND THE FUCKING PAINTING. the wall is hollow. right behind the painting. where it stood leaned against on the other side. i cant explain why i all of a sudden tried knocking all over the wall, or why the actual fuck there is a hollow square in the middle of the corridor wall, but that really fucked us up. there were just too many weird coincidences, you know.

like, all of this happened, or seemed to be centered around, the corridor. as if our hallway was some nexus for supernatural activity. and with that hollow thing, it was like it was starting to make its way into the bedroom, you know? unsettling.

thankfully, C moved out of there in december and we didnt have to stay there anymore, but i sometimes pass by and think about asking the current tenant or the neighbours if they experienced anything strange. its just so eerie. the mimicking parts were the scariest to me, and i get chills thinking about them and reading it even now.

so, thats my long, long overdue creepy encounter. i am VERY aware i sound insane but, hey. what can i do. i am not one for lying and i know that so thats all that matters tbh. i have other encounters as well, but living in that apartment takes the fucking cake.

#creepy #creepypasta #creepypodden #haunting #jesus what do i even tag this with #horror story #also sorry im too tired to double check my english so there are probably some errors in there

[howsit-going-toend]

Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) Pt. 5

A Kwon Jiyong x Reader AU series featuring Kim Jiwon and Choi Seunghyun

Genre: Crime/Mafia/ANGST

Warnings: Swearing/Violence

Word count: 4,000+ (There’s A LOT going on here....)

Summary: You joined the police force years ago to help clean up the streets of Seoul and rid the city of organized crime. You’ve seen some shit. You’re surely prepared for anything…but how are you supposed to feel when the big bad crime boss you’ve been after turns out to be a familiar (to say the least) face?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The police force prepares you to handle and respond to just about anything; to be a master of balancing action/reaction in any scenario under limitless amounts of pressure. When you wear that badge, you should be ready to tackle whatever is thrown at you no matter what. In the four years you’d held your position, you’ve proven your capabilities through and through.

But the look on Jiwon’s face rendered you almost catatonic.

It was the look a child gives to a parent upon catching them stuffing their face with cookies that the child had left out for Santa Claus. It placed a massive weight on your chest that you would have done anything and gone anywhere to remove. You just sat there staring back at him, knowing it was impossible to take back the last three minutes. Your silence was enough of an answer for him.

His face left yours for no more than a second to recall the mixed company. There was an undeniable shift in the room’s tension as he offered Chief Kim a polite nod. “I apologize. Don’t let me interrupt.” His expression had softened. But it was a smile of his that you knew all too well. You knew exactly what he was thinking when he heard that name, and it ridded your heart with a massive amount of guilt to see him smile through it.

“Jiwon…” You began.

“Here.” He offered the paper bag out to you. “I got you breakfast from the food court. Let me know if you don’t like it and I’ll get you something else.” You couldn’t bring yourself to play along and respond.

The forced smile remained on his face as he bowed to Chief Kim before exiting the room once again. You continued to stare at the door, speechless, until your superior cleared his throat, returning to his own unanswered question.

You squeezed your eyes shut before looking back to him. “I’m sorry about that.” You muttered. “I know that it wasn’t on record anywhere in the basement. That’s because I saw him face to face…he was there when I was hurt…he gave the man the orders.” Your gaze fell to your right leg as you said those words.

Chief Kim shifted in his seat. “This is the first I’m hearing about this.”

“I know.” You paused, still unable to maintain eye contact as your heart and brain continued to wage their war against one another. “But it’s true.”

“You…know him?” He stated it as a fact more so than an actual question.

He sighed at your lack of response. “Y/N. I know I don’t need to remind you of the protocol that comes into play here. Personal connections to a case like this…it shouldn’t be allowed.” Your eyes shot up to meet his before he continued. “I don’t want to remove you from your position in this. Your qualifications and passion exceed damn near everyone, and you are a fantastic detective.” His stern look bore into you. “But I will not hesitate to shut this whole thing down.”

You shook your head. “No. No, Chief, I assure you I can do this. I’m just still shook up from what happened… I will get over it. I promise you.”

The look on his face oozed skepticism. You took a deep breath. “Yes I knew him… Once. That was a long time ago…Clearly, he is a different person.”

He took a minute to silently mull over your words before nodding his head. “All right…I do want to see where you take this case. I know what you are capable of, Y/N.” He paused for emphasis. “But the second I see this becoming an issue, I am putting an end to it. That goes for Seunghyun too. Do you understand?”

You returned a firm nod with zero hesitation.

Speaking to your superior helped reignite your desire to succeed. You silently reminded yourself to shake every ounce of emotion off and maintain your professional demeanor. At least on the surface. Despite how desperately you may wish otherwise, you know that you can’t change the past. You had a job to do and there was no time to waste on your feelings.

After all, you now had someone else’s to worry about.

The amount of anxiety that stayed bundled in your chest when Jiwon reentered the room was ungodly. The room was absolutely silent aside from your IV pump’s beeping and the sound his shoes made as they scuffed against the linoleum flooring. Once he took his place in the metal folding chair beside your bed, he grabbed your left hand and held it without a word. He didn’t even look at you. You watched him intently, feeling sweat slowly begin to bead at your hairline. The weight on your chest felt heavier and heavier as the minutes passed by.

He might as well have been screaming at you. Anything but this…aren’t YOU the one that got shot? What the hell do you have to feel guilty about right now? You had all intentions of telling him. You were going to…eventually.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

He uttered the words monotonously as he stared down at your fingers. It wasn’t what you’d wanted to hear but it was something. You sighed and nudged the untouched paper bag full of food.

“Yeah. I’ll eat some in a minute.” You offered a small smile despite the fact that he still hadn’t looked at you. He nodded his head slightly before silence fell on the room once again, putting a fast end to his attempt at a normal conversation.

The truth was, Jiwon never actually met Jiyong. Ever. There was a lot about you and Jiyong that he never even knew. Whether it was due to pent up insecurities, or jealousy…he knew enough to start countless fights. Even though you never really believed you did anything wrong or gave him any real reason to be mad at you, you apologized again and again, until it was all brought to an end years ago. It was Jiwon’s decision that Jiyong’s name was never to be spoken between the two of you ever again. Today, of course, had broken all of that.

Beep…Beep…Beep…

He brought his left hand up to his lips, which he kissed before gently lowering it to your right knee. His thumb slowly moved back and forth. You felt yourself relax slightly at the affectionate gesture, holding onto the hope that that subject had actually been left in the past, for good. His eyes lingered on your right leg protectively.

“So…that’s what he’s been doing all these years.”

Your warm expression fell. You should have known better.

Your responding silence made him look up at you and hold your hand a little tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to get us into this again… We finished that conversation a long time ago.” He forced a small grin that you did your best to match. Three years ago actually, but who’s counting?

“I just can’t believe this.” He let out a sigh and shook his head, bringing his eyes back to your leg. “That son of a bitch…”

Discomfort began to fill your chest again as you readjusted your hand in his. You didn’t know how he expected you to reply to any of this. Your mind had been filled with so much confusion; you were proud of yourself for even remembering how to blink. He muttered something to himself, but the room’s dead silence made it impossible for you to not hear him.

“He’ll get his soon...”

Your eyes widened reflexively. Without taking another second to think up an actual response, your face contorted into a wince. “Aish.”

Jiwon removed his left hand from its position with raised eyebrows. “Are you o-?”

You cut him off. “Will you get the nurse? I…I think this pain medication has worn off.”

One week later

“And so, ya know, that’s why I wanted to meet with you in person today. I wanted to be sure you heard it from me first.” Dongjoo folded his hands together. The young man said the words with enthusiasm but his eyes never stopped shifting anxiously between the two men seated across from him.

Jiyong said nothing. He merely tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to convince himself that this really was the same man he’s known for years. The same man who, in the beginning, had appeared on his hands and knees quivering before Jiyong and begged like a dog for “just one more day.” Who had gladly “organized” thousands and thousands of dollars into his little tobacco shop at the drop of a hat, because he feared the name, G Dragon. Who’d answered any and every cop or government worker that grew the least bit suspicious, reading all his lines without missing a cue. There’s no way this was the same man who had just so confidently informed Jiyong that he’s decided to move his business to America, and would no longer require his men to “look after” him and his store.

After entertaining the thought for a minute, Jiyong raised his eyebrows in amusement and returned his gaze to the grill. Dongjoo’s smile faltered slightly. His eyes darted back to Jiyong’s partner, silently begging him to say something. Taehee offered no assistance, only staring back at the man with the same mute expression he’d been sporting all night. A small smile found its way to Jiyong’s face as he grabbed a set of tongs to rotate the beef. The loud sizzle it made helped to disguise the audible gulp from his, now former, business associate.

Jiyong continued to stare at the meat with watchful eyes as he brought his elbow to rest on the table, allowing the hand holding the tongs to support his chin. Dongjoo watched him closely, feeling the nervous sweat begin to bead at his forehead. A chill ran down his spine as Jiyong blinked before locking eyes with him once again; that same smile painted across his face.

“Well, that’s too bad.” Jiyong finally said, casually. “I’ve got to say, I’m a little disappointed.” He pointed the tongs at Dongjoo in a playful manner. “America doesn’t deserve your good business.”

Dongjoo burst out in an exaggerated laugh, making it clear he’d been holding his breath. “Oh come on now.”

“No, no, honestly.” Jiyong raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. “You come on; no one runs a tobacco shop over there like you do. No question.”

Dongjoo shrugged his shoulders and laughed again, visibly relaxing. “You’re making me blush. Enough, enough.”

“I think that’s ready.” Taehee interrupted and nodded to the beef.

“Oh here let me cut it.” Dongjoo began to reach for the scissors beside the grill, before Jiyong beat him to it.

“Oh no, please, allow me.” He grabbed the tool with his free hand. “This calls for a celebration. The least I can do is serve you some quality barbecue.” He grabbed the beef with the tongs and carefully eyeballed where to slice it.

“America…now that’s exciting.” He said with his eyes on the grill, lining up the scissors into position. “How’s the Mrs. feel about that?” Slice.

Dongjoo flinched at the sound, while furrowing his eyebrows at the unexpected personal question. “Oh uh.” Slice. “She’s ready for the change I think.” Slice. He laughed lightly.

“You think?” Slice. “Oh, you better know. Don’t want any issues being caused in the marriage because of this. Moving to another country is no small step.” Slice. “What about your daughter?”

Dongjoo laughed nervously once again. Slice. “She’s, uh, she’s excited.” Slice. “She’s only five so, you know, she doesn’t really have much of an opinion.” Slice. He reached up to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably. They’d never discussed his family before.

Jiyong smiled wider. “Ah, kids.” Slice. “They just go with whatever you say.” He looked up at Dongjoo and served him a few strips of beef. “They trust you.”

Dongjoo did an awful job at disguising his discomfort. He hesitated in bowing his head to accept the serving, and quickly averted his eyes to his plate. But Jiyong wasn’t done.

“When do you leave?”

Dongjoo looked up with his chopsticks still in his mouth, having just taken his first bite. “Huh?”

Jiyong was placing a few strips of beef on Taehee’s plate; he looked up to make brief eye contact with his partner before turning back to the nervous gentleman across from him. “I said when do you leave? For America?”

“Oh, ha…ha, in about a month.”

Jiyong raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, well why don’t we just ride this thing out for another month then?” He asked before taking a bite of his own serving. His eyes didn’t leave Dongjoo, who began to shift in his seat as he stared back down at his plate.

“I don’t, uh…you know, with moving and everything that goes into it, I won’t be really doing much business and just-.”

Jiyong cut off his word vomit with a laugh, waving his hand with a full mouth. “I’m fucking with you. Do what you gotta do.”

“Oh.” Dongjoo chuckled out of relief once again. “Thank you. I-… I appreciate that.”

The rest of the dinner didn’t get any more comfortable than that. Jiyong continued to eyeball Dongjoo, who continuously blotted the sweat on his forehead, which he insisted was due to his angle from the grill. Taehee continued to stare blankly between the two of them, only mildly confused, until they all got up to leave. Jiyong held the door open, and as Taehee passed, he grabbed him by the shoulder and muttered something under his breath. Taehee looked at his boss for just a moment, before nodding and walking outside.

Dongjoo walked a little too eagerly in the direction of his car, parked on the opposite side of the building. As he began to walk through the narrow alleyway to get there, he turned to bid a quick goodbye to the two men. “Thank you for everything, gentlemen. I wish you nothing but the best.” He made a hasty bow, which Jiyong and Taehee returned, before turning on his heels.

Just as he’d taken a single step towards the safety of his vehicle, he heard Jiyong’s voice once again. But this time it was closer. He turned around to see the crime boss walking towards him at a leisurely pace. “Now, now. What kind of a goodbye is that? We’ve been through a lot together, you and me. You’ve got to give me more respect than that, right?” As he arrived before him, Jiyong reached his right hand out with an honorable grin.

Dongjoo’s face flashed with worry before quickly covering it back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, GD. I just don’t want the wife to worry, you know? Of course, of course. I surely didn’t mean any disrespect.” He reached a clammy hand out to make contact with Jiyong’s. “No hard feelings?” He asked with a hopeful smile.

Just as Jiyong let out a small chuckle, Dongjoo’s eyes flashed to Taehee. He was standing behind Jiyong, far back by the alleyway entrance, with his back turned to both of them. It took him less than a second for Dongjoo to understand what was about to happen.

As he locked eyes with Jiyong, who was holding his now quivering hand with a firm grip, he had no time to think before his skull swung forward to collide with his own.

Dongjoo released the hand he’d use to shake Jiyong’s as he flung his head back in pain. “Fuck!” His vision was blurred while he tried to look forward, seeing four Jiyong’s coming towards him, each with darkened expressions and their right fists reeled back.

His nose shattered the minute Jiyong made contact, sending Dongjoo’s body immediately to the alley ground. His hands flew to his face as if trying to manually preserve whatever features that remained intact. He coughed and spat out dark blood that had rushed in from his nostrils. Jiyong stalked towards him slowly, like a lion playing with its dinner. Dongjoo’s vision was even hazier now, but his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in full force, giving him the strength to turn over onto his stomach.

Just as he attempted to bring his arms and legs in to hoist himself up, Jiyong lowered his boot to the man’s ear, putting in just enough pressure to push his head against the pavement. Dongjoo let out a piercing groan. Placing more of his weight into that leg, Jiyong leaned down to get a little closer to his face. As Dongjoo’s exasperated breathing and whimpering for mercy got louder, Jiyong shushed him.

“You know… I expected more from you.” His tone was menacing. “I considered you a friend, really.” Dongjoo cried out, too terrified to even attempt to move. “America? Yeah, buddy?” Jiyong chuckled. “You and I both know that’s fucking bullshit. I just gave you chance after chance and you just continued to lie right to my fucking face.” Jiyong leaned forward and spat on the ground right by the man’s broken nose. “You want to know something? You really think the Yang brothers are going to protect you better than we can? That’s a riot. What did they tell you about me, huh? Who do you think we’ve been protecting you from? Huh?” Dongjoo only sobbed more, his body shaking as the “please, please, please”’s and “I’m so sorry”’s continued to flow from his mouth just as quickly as the blood ran from his nose. Jiyong sighed in frustration. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you. No, that wouldn’t be right to do to a family man. Just know that I will never forget about this.” He lifted his boot and allowed the man to hoist himself up to his knees. Dongjoo coughed violently, simultaneously gasping for the air he’d been hoarding in his lungs.

Jiyong dug into his pocket and threw a handkerchief on the ground in front of him, along with some cash. Dongjoo flinched, recoiling his arms across his face before looking down to see the stitched piece of cloth and the paper bills. Trembling, he looked up to lock eyes with Jiyong, whose dark expression hadn’t changed for a second.

“Wipe yourself off and get that nose looked at. Don’t you go home to your wife and kid and let them see this pathetic sight.” Dongjoo only cried in response, to which Jiyong let out a sigh. “What? What are you still doing here? Go.”

He didn’t have to tell him twice. Dongjoo picked up the money, the handkerchief, and himself up off the ground and stumbled his bodyweight in the direction of the far parking lot. Jiyong waited for the sound of his whimpers to fade and be replaced by the sound of an engine before turning back towards Taehee. He approached the man and placed his hand on his shoulder once again. “All right. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Jesus, he did all that just now?”

Taehee nodded at his partner before taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

“Damn, he’s really not playing around these days...” Wonhae replied, ensuring to keep his voice down, knowing that Jiyong wasn’t far down from them at the bar.

Five men: Gyechul, Taehee, Wonhae, Gwangbok, and Jiyong, all sat side by side. The place was a favorite spot of theirs, which they frequently visited after a long day. It was old, secluded in the outer edges of Seoul, and run by people they knew like family. No other bar could be safer for clientele such as themselves.

“Weeell, we all know fucking why.”

Taehee and Wonhae looked over at their partner on their end of the bar, Gyechul, who’d already had his fair share of alcohol for the night. He was staring up at the little box television set with his mouth agape, intently watching the news. “Look! Look look look, there she is now. Pfffft.” He mumbled and pointed up towards the screen. The local news was broadcasting a story about a cop who’d been shot in a “gang related incident” and had “barely made it out alive.”

Gyechul let out a chuckle, muffled through his teeth. “Hey, look everyone we’re in a gang.”

Taehee spoke up in a firm tone. “Gyechul. Enough…Be smart.”

The man turned from the TV to laugh in Taehee’s direction mockingly. “Be smart…pfffft. If I was smart that night I woulda jus killed that cop…but noooo I was following orders.” He waved his hands in the air as he lazily dragged out each word.

“You’re not fucking killing anyone.”

Taehee closed his eyes in a wince, knowing this was bound to happen. He turned to the right to see their boss staring across the bar right through the three of them to Gyechul. Everyone went quiet.

Gyechul chuckled again. “Pffff, whatever you say boss. You see this?!” He pointed to the TV which now showed an old mugshot of his, displaying him as a wanted criminal. “Now we have this to deal with…the fucking news is after me.” He slurred.

“There would have been even worse news if I let you have ‘cop killer’ thrown on your record. I did you a fucking favor.” Jiyong said coldly, silently refusing to look at the TV.

Gyechul stared his boss down. “Ya know what? Fuck you GD. Fuck you and your favors.” He mumbled with his finger pointed in Jiyong’s direction. He pushed himself up into a standing position, slightly swaying back and forth. Jiyong closed his eyes and took a deep, annoyed, breath.

“Gyechul, stop. All right? Let’s get you some water.” Taehee attempted to intervene again.

“Hey, hey, I’m fine all right? It’s him who’s got the fucking problem.” He pointed at Jiyong again before letting out a drunken laugh. He then dramatically gasped and stared out into space. “P-p-put the gun down! This-this is my final warning! … Bang! AH!!” He flailed his arms in the air, falling against the bar while gripping his leg, and bursting out laughing. Jiyong wasn’t the slightest bit amused. The second he stood up, so did the other three men.

“GD, it’s ok. He’s just drunk. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s saying. We’ll take him somewhere to chill out.” Taehee and Gwangbok attempted to alleviate the situation while Wonhae grabbed his out of line partner by the shoulders.

“What? Do you think I look fucking worried?” Jiyong spat.

“Touchyyyyy.” Gyechul mused, poking his head around Wonhae’s to continue talking at Jiyong. “Ya know, I’ve never seen you like this over someone. Especially a fucking cop. What’s up with that?! Huh?” He yelled belligerently. Jiyong said nothing. He just stared at the bar while the other men continued to try to calm things down. But Gyechul wouldn’t listen. “You know…it’s almost like she’s that girl.”

Jiyong looked right at him.

“Gyechul, shut the fuck up!” Taehee yelled while Wonhae attempted to smack the man to shut up. But he persisted.

“Noooo, come on, you guys know the girl I mean. The one we all fucking know about but no one ever says anything about because GD will freak the fuck out on them.” He narrowed his eyes at Jiyong, who looked ready for slaughter. “It’s her isn’t it?” He chuckled. “She’s the only one that’ll make you so fucking soft like that.” He pointed to the TV. “Oh but…..” He grinned. “She doesn’t make all of you fucking soft.” He sneered before groping himself mockingly.

Jiyong was on his side of the bar in seconds, with his hands gripping his collar. Jiyong has always been a very stoic person, but right in that moment there was a raging fire in his eyes. The other three men nearly tackled them both to stop whatever was about to happen.

Taehee grabbed Jiyong and pulled him back while the other two men pulled Hyechul away. Jiyong’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath to steady himself. He took a second to close his eyes while he waited for Hyechul’s drunken slurs to pipe down. When they finally did, and it looked like their night at the bar had finally ended, Jiyong got up to leave.

“Hyechul.” He announced.

“Yeaah?” The man turned his head, barely able to maintain eye contact.

“You watch yourself.”

After arriving back at his private home, having had enough bullshit for one night, Jiyong poured him and Taehee both a glass of whiskey. Amongst his four major partners, Taehee was by far his closest and most trusted. He knew better than to push any further, in regards to Jiyong’s feelings, than just one simple question.

“You ok?”

“Yeah.” Jiyong muttered, taking a pull from his glass.

Taehee nodded his head and paused for a minute to sip from his own. “Well… How about some music?”

Jiyong grinned and pointed at him before springing up and pacing towards his record collection. “Yes. What’re you feeling?”

“Anything.”

Jiyong was suddenly as giddy as a child. He stuck his hands in his pants pockets, sticking his tongue out slightly and narrowing his eyes as he looked closely at every title. As he began to feel overwhelmed by the amount of choices, Hyechul’s words from earlier made his mind wander back.

He gently began to flip through one of the older stacks of records he’d gotten from his parents’ house. He smiled sadly as he browsed through classic American tunes from Dion, to Chuck Berry, Frankie Valli, and even the Righteous Brothers. Every album had unique memories attached, but they all had one thing in common.

As he flipped past a Frank Sinatra vinyl, a small 45 popped out and nearly hit the floor. Upon saving it and flipping the cover over, a small gasp escaped his lips. It was a 7” Elvis Presley record with “Love Me Tender” and “Any Way You Want Me.” He wasted no time in putting it on and letting one of his most cherished memories return to him.

“Man, I love Elvis.” Taehee chimed in as the song began.

“Me too.” Jiyong smiled as he swayed in place, staring at the cover. A warmth filled his chest as he read the small words that had been handwritten on the front in white marker.

Love me tender, love me true. All my dreams, fulfilled

For my darling, I love you. And I always will

As he traced his fingers around the small heart that had been drawn by the last word, he was hit with an insane idea. In one second, he’d wiped the smile from his face and restored his stoic demeanor to look at Taehee.

“We’re not going over business right now, but I need you to do something for me.”

Taehee sat up straight and alert.

“Get me the address for Jungbu Police Station.”

#g dragon scenarios #kwon jiyong scenarios #bigbang scenarios #g dragon au #kwon jiyong au #bigbang au #g dragon fanfiction #kwon jiyong fanfiction #kwon jiyong angst #g dragon angst #kpop scenarios

[tumblunni]

oreshika: you know who is not the bad guy? the bad guy also oreshika: you know who is actually the secret bad guy? this sweet harmless comic relief man who has done nothing wrong

except like its eight glowing brain levels deeper cos the sweet comic relief man is also a giant obviously evil demon mask that ANYONE could have pinned for “really just possessing this dude” since the very start but then his personality was very non bad and he was all ‘hey buddie why u no smile’ to his host and like I LET MY GUARD DOWN OKAY. I LEARNED TO TRUST AGAIN.

i’m at the final battle and I am so pissed off but also HYPED?? like im relaly mad cos like RIGHT FROM HIS FIRST APPEARANCE I was like ‘dear god please don’t make onigashira the real villain, it would be so fucking obvious’ and then i just got progressively more pissed because he literally did nothing evil in the entire damn plot, he’s just evil because Evil he’s some sort of Magical Evil Mask that was Made To Be Evil and like Unquestionably Is That and no sort of interesting exploration on that plot even though he HASNT ACTED EVIL EVER UNTIL THE LITERAL LAST FIVE MINUTES

and it raises SO MANY questions cos like why was he even cooperating with Seimei then?? why didnt he fully posess seimei at any earlier point?? why didnt he kill nueko at any of the five other mandatory boss fights we had with him?? Seimei at least had an intriguing personality that gave an odd justification for his plot laziness. Cos he’s an anti-villain who weirdly sees you all as friends or a mentor/student thing, and he’s really just pretending to be evil so that you’ll kill him, cos he can’t die and desperately wants to. So it makes sense that he doesnt do any of his evil actions until you arrive, cos the whole damn point was just to taunt you into arriving. And its nicely parodied cos he literally sends you tea party invitations to his latest evil plan and gets pissed off if you miss it XD i’m so sad for seimei plz say (mei) that we adopt him afterwards i wanted to adopt onigashira afterwards back when it looked like he was the not evil one of the pair I AM STILL REALLY SALTY THAT HE’S NOT!!!! HIS DESIGN IS REALLY COOL AND CUTE!!!!! AND HE WAS A COMIC RELIEF OLD MAN DEMON DRAGON DOOD!!! i trusted u

okay but to talk about why i am also HYPE i need to go into some endgame spoilers whoopy doop!

so yeah the twist of ‘evilman is actually just being controlled by his puppet dragon thing’ was WAY OBVIOUS and i was really wishing for it to not happen but they made up for it by having ANOTHER TWIST THAT’S WAY BETTER

random description of something else from the endgame that is cool but i dont really know where to fit it into this conversation lol you actually do get to fight Final Boss Seimei here, its a cool boss rush with him and then Super Onigashira Betrayal Mode but what I really like is that its an OPTIONAL boss rush! the first time you play it you fight seimei with his freaky spider legs superform, and then nueko steals it back cos it was hers first. Can i just say again that I love a sexy mom styled heroine who’s powers are entirely around growing friggin monsters out of her arms and stuff? Seriously way to subvert that fanservice bro! (its still a bit cringey when they show the monster tattoos being drawn on her butt and boobs...) so then you go into the second fight and your health has all been healed and now one party member has a new supermove (I was really pissed cos it didnt restore your MP and TP, so I couldnt use that move!) But then if you lose and come back it actually skips the first fight and has an altered cutscene that’s like ‘oh, you’re back for round two?’ and such. MUCH preferrable to stuff like kingdom hearts where i have to watch a damn ten minute cutscene each time! Tho I do wish there was an option to redo it in boss rush mode, I guess that’s just a reward for people who can get it on the first try. I’m prepared now thooooo... :(

OKAY BACK ON TOPIC

Now for this final arc of the story we’ve been investigating the mystery of the Nameless God, some dude in the past who was apparantly super great and then got erased from history. There’s also the mystery of who exactly was Nueko’s husband and what happened to separate her from Seimei and make him turn evil, tho i mean its PRETTY OBVIOUS his dad was this mystery god lol And even though its not really very much of a twist about his identity, its still really interesting how the whole thing is handled. Him being erased from history means that none of the characters can remember his name or face, but NEITHER CAN THE PLAYER! He appears in the interfaces long before the plot actually talks about him, as a silhouette and a name smudged out by ink.

Now the actually cool twist about him is that like.. we’ve been hearing for AGES about how great he was, and how someone must have put out a hit on him or something. And him being in the interface seems like a spoiler that he’s gonna be unlockable later as a godly husband candidate for your protagonists. And even when we see npc optional boss battle gods hating on him, it’s always the jerkass gods who have some sort of reason to be biased. Or (in retrospect) they’re hating him for entirely the wrong reasons based on other people’s flawed gossip about him. “He was too kind and if he made equality then I wouldn’t be rich!” says genericman mc gee, who is probably eighty times less evil than this man

COS THATS THE TWIST

He was an evil fucker and erased himself from history with essentially an alchemy equivelant of a mad science experiment gone wrong. And what happened with Nueko and Seimei was that evilbad mc trashdad tried to use his damn four year old child as raw materials for this experiment, and she tried and failed to save him. And then she was desperate and her only option left was to kill the kid so he couldnt be tortured like that, and then killed herself too from grief. But it all went horribly wrong because she didn’t know that the reason Seimei was a candidate for this experiment is because he had immortality powers as a half human half god. So the poor kid survived watching his mom stab him and then slit her own throat, and he had no clue it was because his dad was gonna kill him anyway, so he grows up hating her and missing her and being this big ol sad mess that’s easily manipulated by a fucko father...

COS THATS ALSO THE TWIST

ONIGASHIRA WAS DADS

WHAT HOW

DADS

And like if they were gonna reveal his entire funny cute sidekick personality to be completely false then I’m glad at least his real personality was Twisty Wow and Immensely Punchable like i still feel like i could never punch a cute puppet pal but i can surely punch an abusive father pretending to be his own son’s imaginary friend for twenty years and whispering bullshit in his ear just to drive him into his own grave and like POOR SEIMEI WANTED TO DIE JUST NOT LIKE THIS NOT LIKE THIIIIIIIISSSS

i still think that ‘hey i was made to be an evil superweapon demon dragon mask thing but i became sentient and decided to be a happy hugs jokeman’ would have been a really amazing character concept too either that or ‘hey it really is a harmless normal mask and i’m just super seriously angsty seimei doing ventriloquism as a hugs jokeman character because i’m lonely as fuck and please be my friend’ either of those would have been better than this but like if this is what we get then I’m at least glad they gave me good enough reason to feel ‘GAHH I WANNA STAB HIM AND SAVE MY NEW SON’ rather than just ‘oh blah this ending ruined my fave character, and i feel nothing towards anything now’

also his boss fight is really damn fuckin coolio wow like it was a HUGE WHOA MOMENT when the fight starts and his name is blanked out and you just instantly know who he was this whole time and your mind explodes that this guy was evil and then he’s like a giant buddha-esque multi armed dude doing sutra poses with a big ol spoopy demon head and then really fun classic gameplay of ‘him summon the many hands and u has to destroy the hands to get 2 him and then they regenerate after a short amount of time’ but he’s also got super hellish simultaneous buff and debuff powers and all sorts of other nasty tricks AND IM ON THE LOWEST DIFFICULTY GEEZ and like for some reason it really stabbed my heart seeing how just one of the many hands is still human, its like seimei’s still in there and maybe he might still be alive if we defeat this guy fast enough... and then the music is SO FUCKING GOOD and it has like three remixes for all his increasingly frantic stages. like he doenst actually have boss transformations for them, its just moveset changes and stat boosts as his health drops. but also the colours of the battlefield change and you get funky remix time so its still cool!

and then I was SO CLOSE, i had him down to 5% HP before he killed me T_T such a marathon boss and I was almost there... I’m really excited to try again tho! i finally got that damn curse off my inherited weapon from the first generation, and now i’m on generation 87, and now im ready to FUCK SOME SHIT UP! also my current party is all named after types of olives because i ran out of inspiration around character number 300 i am so fucking addicted to this grindy ass game!

#bunni plays oreshika #maaaan i still need to upload all the screenshots in between this and the first generation update i did last #so many characters so little progress #still havent got anybody with a third eye or cool demon horns #i hate how much RNG is in this stupid thing #it should just become more likely the longer you play or something #give me a reward #i have burned your game into my soooooul #AND I STILL BARELY UNDERSTAND HALF THE STATS #mo tutorials mo reward for yer progress there u go that is my review #also i love my pimento child

[themoneybuff-blog]

18 Two-Minute Chores to Tackle Right Away

All too often we explain away our lifestyle or money messes by saying, I just dont have time to do [whatever would have prevented the problem]. Heres a simple, supremely effective tactic: Any time something can be done (or at least well-begun) in two minutes or less, then for heavens sake, do it! The two-minute rule cant fix everything in our lives. But applying it helps to keep chores and paperwork from piling up quite so high. Every time a little thing doesnt add to the big things, our lives get better. More to the point, a small block of time can result in ongoing dividends. For example, shopping apps can get you discounts, cash back, or even refunds if a price drops. Downloading apps like Ibotta, Earny, Shopkick, Paribus, or Cartwheel gives the chance to both save and earn money when shopping for essentials and treats alike. Some of the tips in this article are simple productivity hacks. Others could completely change your financial life. All take just a couple of minutes at a time, and will move you further along the road to financial security. 1. Pay attention to your accounts. Personal finance author Beverly Harzog checks her credit card accounts every morning. It takes very little time, says the U.S. News & World Report columnist, and is a great way to catch fraud in the early stages. Dont want to check every day? Let the account tell you, by setting up an alert. Ask the bank or credit union to let you know when a bill has been paid or a debit card is used, or have the credit card company flag any transactions over a certain amount. Or over any amount, maybe: Jim Wang of WalletHacks.com has his card alert him to every. Single. Transaction. Yes, he really did set the alert amount to $0.00. You hear all these stories of people getting ripped off in $5 and $10 amounts because they dont notice, Wang says. These alerts let you know immediately that somethings wrong. The sooner you report fraud, the fewer losses a card issuer has to eat and remember, the cost of fraud gets passed along to all consumers eventually. 2. Order a free credit report. Are you checking your credit report often enough? You can do it for free three times a year (once for each of the major credit reporting bureaus) by visiting AnnualCreditReport.com. Requesting one report every four months can prevent small issues from becoming big ones. For example, if the report says you missed a payment but you really didnt, write to the credit bureau and get this fixed. Or perhaps theres an account on there that you didnt open. That could be a simple mistake but it could also be a sign of fraud. 3. Consider credit monitoring. Depending on what kind you choose, a credit monitoring service will do things such as check for account applications (bank, phone, credit, utilities) made in your name, provide identity theft insurance, monitor your personal information across thousands of databases, and alert you if there are any changes to your credit report or score. Some of these services are even free, such as Credit Karma and Credit Sesame. Personal finance writer Cameron Huddleston says one such alert clued her in to a drop in her credit score. Turns out she had a payment that she didnt realize was late. I quickly fixed the problem and raised my score in the process, says Huddleston, life and money columnist for GOBankingRates. 4. Set up automatic payments. If youre confident youll always have enough in your checking account, put your bills on auto-pay and let them take care of themselves. No more missed payments! Not everyone can (or wants to) keep that much in checking from month to month, though. Due to the hectic nature of life, Lee Huffman of the Bald Thoughts blog suggests setting up payment for at least the minimum amount each month. You can still pay bills in full manually, but setting an automatic minimum means no more late fees, ever. 5. Download your banks mobile app. Having your phone talk to your bank makes it easy to check account alerts wherever you are. Some apps offer other perks, such as letting you deposit checks remotely rather than having to drive to the bank (big time-saver) or letting you make person-to-person payments (helpful for stuff like chipping in on a shared utility bill or reimbursing a friend who picked up the tab at dinner). 6. Look into student loan refinancing. Some scholars graduate with scary amounts of debt. Figuring out whether to refinance your student loans is a complex subject, since its based on individual circumstances. However, refinancing could also change your life, if only by getting you out of default and on track to a solution. To find out more about whether its right for you, see Student Loan Consolidation: Pros and Cons. 7. Set up automatic savings. If you dont already have an emergency fund, this is a great way to get started. It shouldnt take more than two minutes to log into your bank or credit union account and set up a recurring monthly (or weekly) transfer into a separate emergency fund. Set it and forget it. Or maybe youre aiming for other kinds of savings: a pay cash for the next car fund, a 529 plan for your kid, or a pot of money that youll funnel into real estate or some other investment. No matter what kind of savings youre aiming for, be sure to make the amount sustainable. Specifically, dont commit every non-budgeted penny, because life brings surprises that take you over budget. 8. Deal with the mail. Dont throw it onto the table or desk because its mostly junk anyway. Take two minutes to weed through the junk and toss it into the recycle bin or trash. Otherwise, the pile of untended mail gets bigger and bigger, and you run the risk of missing something. For example, if a bill gets hidden in the stack and doesnt get paid, youll incur a late fee, and maybe even a ding on your credit report. (Yes, some of us do still get bills in the mail.) Bonus: Less clutter = less irritation. A tidy living space is very calming. And speaking of tidiness 9. Try some stealth cleaning. Choose a chore that can be done within two minutes. Vacuum one room. Move the laundry from the washer to the dryer. Clean a toilet. Scoop the cats litter box. Carry the trash out to the garbage can or dumpster. This works best if every member of the household takes on a daily two-minute task. Even toddlers can dust, and preschoolers can empty the bathroom trash or carry dishes to the sink. Little by little your living space will get tidier and youll feel better. In the best-case scenario, youll get in the zone and do two or three such chores. Now: Take the money you were considering putting toward a weekly housecleaning and use it for something that advances your personal financial goals. 10. Contact your insurance agent. Sometimes life changes or home upgrades make you eligible for discounts on your insurance policy. Keep your agent updated by e-mail or phone if, say, youve started to carpool (or to work from home), or if you had a home security system installed. Even if nothing changes, get in touch with your agent to ask about other potential discounts. For example, a decent-enough price break for taking a driving course might be worth the cost of the class. Should your credit report or your teen drivers report card improve noticeably, see if that will improve the premium. Still not convinced youre getting the best deal? Then you should 11. Comparison shop for insurance. You can fill out an online quote form in just a couple of minutes and the results might really surprise you. The Simple Dollars insurancearticles can help you understand the different kinds of coverage and find a lower rate. That way you can buy exactly what you need, vs. paying for products that dont support your financial goals. While youre at it 12. Comparison shop for credit cards, too. Some people dislike the current credit scoring system, and in a sense theyre right. Why should they be penalized for paying cash? But its what we have, and a smart consumer will learn to work within it. Thats why if you dont have a credit card, you should get one to build your credit score. It could also be invaluable in case of the unexpected; twice Ive had to drop everything and fly thousands of miles for family emergencies, and having plastic made that much, much easier. And if youve already got a credit card? Make sure youre getting the optimum benefits. Whether youre looking for travel rewards or cash back bonuses,The Simple Dollars credit card section lays it all out for you. 13. Schedule some maintenance. Keeping on top of the manufacturers suggested maintenance on everything from vehicles to home heating systems means preventing problems versus trying to fix them. A friend drove her car for nearly 22 years that way. Dont neglect your own maintenance, either. For starters, see the dentist twice a year. Annual medical exams arent always necessary, but talk with a primary care physician about whether you should at least have lab work done plus any other tests appropriate to your age (e.g., mammogram or colonoscopy). Not only is it cheaper to fix a health issue caught early, it can sometimes be a matter of life and death. 14. Keep an ongoing grocery list. If you use almost all of the remaining toilet paper, cat food, toothpaste, or whatever, add it to the online shopping list right then and there. Dont use online shopping? Add it to the paper list stuck on the fridge. Because you probably wont remember that you need cilantro, cat food, or whatever else when youre at the grocery store later and might find yourself at a convenience store at 10 p.m., grumbling and paying a ridiculous amount of money for TP. 15. Cancel a subscription. Are you even reading those magazines? How often do you go to the gym? Did your kids excitement over monthly craft kits peak at oh, about four months in? Do you really need regular deliveries of makeup, clothing, or snacks? Most people probably have a subscription or two that they never got around to canceling, says Austin Grandt of the Financial Toolbelt website. Apps like Trim and Truebill will corral your current subscriptions, making it easy to weed through what you really want. Remember: These things are generally wants, not needs. And they can cost a lot more than you might imagine. 16. Get a library card. It might take you two minutes to find out whats required in your area, such as photo ID and a current utility bill, and then another two minutes to get a librarian to set you up. Totally worth it! Libraries buy books and movies and subscribe to magazines so you dont have to. Depending on where you live, the library might also lend out everything from toys to art to fishing gear. Libraries offer information on genealogy, social services, and other useful stuff, too. (The main library in my city houses the Cooperative Extension Service.) Many host a wide variety of activities, including but not limited to childrens story hours, public lectures, movie nights, clubs, resume-building workshops, tax help, and film appreciation nights. Most if not all of these things will be free. 17. Set things up before bed. Before you turn in, ready your breakfast supplies. When you stumble into the kitchen at 6:45 a.m. youll be greeted by your favorite mug, a batch of already brewed coffee (thanks, timer!), the box of cereal, and a bowl. So much better than rummaging around for coffee and filter, the cereal, and a bowl and mug while also trying to unload the dishwasher you ignored yesterday. More importantly, this helps cement the habit of eating breakfast at home, which is cheaper and healthier! than hitting the coffee cart or the fast-food drive-through on your way to work. 18. Set up reminders. Cody, the young-and-hustling author of the FlyToFI blog, uses his iPhones Reminders app to avoid errors as simple as forgetting to buy milk, or as potentially life-changing as failing to change the batteries in the smoke detector. This app, or any other reminders system, can save you money in the here-and-now, such as avoiding no-show fees for missed medical appointments. Reminders also help you stay on top of things that keep you financially healthy. Its so easy to think, I really should [look for a better rewards card/get scheduled auto maintenance done/buy life insurance] and then not do these things. If thats you, then set reminders. Re-set them if necessary. Sooner or later (preferably sooner) youll make Future Yous needs a priority. Award-winning journalist and veteran personal finance writerDonna Freedmanis the author of Your Playbook for Tough Times: Living Large on Small Change, for the Short Term or the Long Haul and Your Playbook for Tough Times, Vol. 2: Needs AND Wants Edition. More byDonna Freedman: https://www.thesimpledollar.com/18-two-minute-chores-you-should-never-put-off/