#kim being the one to give jesse the cigarette..

[introvertedeviant]

Kim and Jesse meeting is just like... poetic and also tragic and sad and just idk... its like here you have one character who is leaving behind everything and trying to forgive herself for the wrong choices she made and actively punishing herself for it, and in a sense, her narrative ended the moment she walked out that door... and then you have this other character who is bright eyed and naive and very much in a similar position that Kim was in when she was partaking in those seemingly harmless cons with Jimmy and unaware of how those very choices would affect her future. But while her narrative ends, Jesse's is just getting started and now he's the one who is unaware of how dangerous his current choices are.. but they are leading him towards his journey... A very long and painful journey.

And yet they have no idea who they are, how connected and intertwined their lives are (or will be). If only they had known then.. if only Kim could warn Jesse. But you can't stop the inevitable :(

#kim being the one to give jesse the cigarette.. #like a passing of the torch if you will #a very nasty and depressing and tragic torch :( #better call saul #bcs #rambles

[paramar]

honestly, from a storytelling standpoint, not only i think there’s no way for kim to die in the next episodes but also there’s no way she doesn't reunite ‘somehow’ with gene or appear the final episode because at this point she’s as much of a main character as jimmy is. like, kim and jimmy ARE as much of a protagonist duo as walt and jesse even if the show wasn't planned that way at first (jesse was going to die in the first season, they didn't know where kim’s arc was headed past the first season). can you imagine the finale of breaking bad with jesse leaving on the previous episode or escaping off-screen, or the finale without walt and jesse confronting each other, finishing the dynamic that warped the series as a whole? 

true that better call saul is its own series at this point, and the BrBa narrative beats are played more playfully and creatively (both done straight and contrasted), than just following a recipe to the letter, but of all these narrative beats (internal and external transformation, a perfect plan ruined by an innocent's death, rejecting opportunities of positive change, and so) i don't see ‘closure for both the main duo and the audience’ not playing a part in the finale either.

i personally don't think we’ll see a straight-up happy ending, and i haven't for a while (tbh i feel like that one black and white teaser after last ep’s kinda makes fun of the idea) but i’m fully expecting to see the two main characters in the final episode, and if we assume it will be played chronologically, then that means she would appear in the gene’s timeline too, even if i don't know how. a final conversation, one last scam, sharing one last cigarette, finally saying i love you, etc. 

again, even if their dynamics aren't 1:1 comparable to each other (walt is emotionally abusive and manipulative to jesse, while kim and jimmy are two codependent people who end up both as enablers, and i'd go as far as to say that they are more partners in crime and have a way more equal ground than W&J), and we don't know what happens to the two of them in these last 6 episodes (but i'm going to assume it probably won't be as bad as walt literally giving jesse to fucking nazis), the dynamic of kim and jimmy has become an integral part to the series. to the point that i can't see that dynamic not being part of the finale too. just a thought

#better call saul #bcs

[gohyuck]

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned​

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers! 

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes. 

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful. 

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze. 

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes. 

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying. 

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh. 

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from. 

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material. 

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl. 

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh. 

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?” 

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him. 

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity. 

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do. 

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week. 

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together. 

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess. 

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore. 

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to. 

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again. 

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time. 

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men. 

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek. 

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?” 

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has. 

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny. 

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets. 

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes. 

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team. 

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill. 

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man. 

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink. 

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with. 

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!” 

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved. 

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is. 

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly. 

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck. 

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands. 

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.” 

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly. 

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s. 

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.”   Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can. 

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out. 

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right. 

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up. 

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes. 

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do. 

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak. 

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched. 

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly. 

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well. 

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about. 

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt. 

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them. 

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride. 

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted. 

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again. 

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.” 

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same. 

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone. 

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in. 

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now. 

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so. 

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark. 

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh. 

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?” 

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it. 

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true. 

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against. 

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day. 

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.” 

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind. 

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now. 

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be. 

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason. 

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ” 

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best. 

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess. 

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it. 

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again. 

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time. 

But that’s neither here nor there. 

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it. 

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss. 

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness. 

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately. 

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture. 

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view. 

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his. 

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him. 

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale. 

 ♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth. 

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck. 

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go. 

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking. 

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain. 

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained. 

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

#first #five #tags #don't #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader

[chyrstis]

FC5 GFH Tag!

@sharky-broshaw​ and @shellibisshe​​ were lovely enough to tag me to see what my Dep would say as a formal FC5 Gun For Hire, and after spending most of the day thinking this over instead of writing, I think I’ve mostly nailed her down! ;)

Deputy Hana Vao

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: “Whoa there, buddy! Aren’t you a sweetheart? God, I...I really wish Rae-Rae were here to say hi to you too, and see how good of a boy you’re being.”

Peaches: “I’m a cat person. I’m not a hundred percent sure it extends to being a big cat person, but I’m willing to try.” / *in a ridiculous voice while sneaking through the brush* “Who’s an adorable murder machine, yes, you are!”

Cheeseburger: “Whoever decided it’d be entirely possible and plausible for me to spend my free time hanging out with a bear, I’d like to give the biggest high-five to, because this? This is really fucking awesome.” / “I’ve always wondered if I’d have the chance to meet a local celebrity, and now I’ve met two! What are the odds of that?”

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky

*after inviting him* “Oh, now it’s a party.”

“So, apparently karaoke night at the Spread Eagle used to be a thing. You’ve been holding out on me! *both start trading stories about signature songs they used to pick, until they both settle on one and start singing along to it* *some of it’s good, most of it isn’t*

*after a fight* “That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Do it again.” / “Hey, Shark? How about you dial it back a little next time? It kind of got a little too close for comfort there.”

“You know what they say about any big bads, right?” *along with Sharky* “If it bleeds, we can kill it! *laughs* God, you’re the best.”

Grace

“Hey, Grace? I know you mentioned last time that I really need to work on the whole sneaking, and being quiet, and-” “Not throwing a block of C4 at every problem you see?” “...Shit. I knew I might’ve forgotten something. Let me get back to you on that.”

“Grace? If I offered you twenty dollars to shoot [a hat off of a scarecrow, a can off of a fence, the helmet off of a Peggie, etc]. Would you do it?” *Grace asks if she’s that willing to go broke* “Maybe. I still think that would be pretty cool to see.”

Hurk

*calls Hana Ms. V* “Hurk! I thought we agreed not to go with that one!” *he throws out a slew of nicknames each one more absurd than the last* “...Um, okay. Maybe that one’s not so bad after all.”

“Hey, I have to ask. What’s with the chimps?”

*calls Hana Depu-Vee and pretends to relay a top-secret message* Hurk, hon. We’re face to face. I’m looking right at you. We don’t need codenames right now.

Adelaide

“I...that’s definitely a description I never thought I’d ever hear. Or visualize.”

“Okay, so I’m only going to say this once, but...” *speaks at a mile a minute* “Fuck John, Marry Faith, and Kill Jacob, and there’s nothing left for Joseph, so just fuck him in general. Done and done.”

Nick

“I swear to God, if you ever ask me to fly Carmina again I’m going to crash her. Not on purpose, I’m just that damn bad at it, so please. I beg of you, don’t.”

“How’s Kim doing? If you two need anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

Jess

“Jesus, you’re a hell of a shot. Shooting an apple off of someone’s head would probably be nothing, huh?” *Jess asks if she’s volunteering* “It’s not that you aren’t a badass, because you totally are, but you know how some ideas look fun at first pass, but are probably a disaster in the making? That? That would be one of them.”

In Combat

Seeing an enemy: “You got eyes on them?”

Sneaking:*snaps a twig* “Shit! ...Um, shit. Sorry.”

Killing an enemy: "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!” / *if you score the hit* “Holy shit, that was a shot!”

Reviving: “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” / “Hold on! Can’t have you dying on me now.”

Hurt: “Ow, motherfucker!” / “Jesus, walk it off. Just walk it off.” / *flamethrower, or Sharky* Shit! Nearly singed my hair...

Downed: “Really, really pissed that they made me bleed my own blood here.” / “Keep moving! Don’t worry about me! *pained sound* “Fuck!”

Driving

If asked to drive: “You sure? Well, buckle up and hold on tight. I promise I’ll try and be gentle.” / “God, this is really making me miss my bike.”

Reckless driving: “Jesus, now I know how Grace feels.” / “And here I thought you’d leave the stunt driving to old Clutch. I’m game if you are.”

Changing radio stations: *starts singing along if Barracuda’s playing* / *’if Oh John’ starts playing* “...Fucking asshole.” *sings an off-key, ‘bold and brave’ before making a sound of disgust*

Idle

“Hey, hon. How’re you holding up? Better than me, I hope, because I could really go for a cigarette. Might have to bum one off of Sharky the next time I see him.”

“You know, I’m not from around here. I’m from Detroit. Moved around a lot when I was young, so I don’t remember it well to begin with, but my mom took a lot of photos of it. Kept them all in a photo album for me to look at when I was older, and always told me we’d head back there someday to check them out again ourselves. ....Well, I’m about 95 percent certain that when the cult burned my apartment down, it might’ve taken that album with it. Pictures of those places. Of her. All of it up in smoke, just like that. So, here’s hoping there’ll be a Detroit left after all of this, depending on whether or not Joseph’s talking shit, or actually right. Because I’d really like to have a second chance to see all of that. And have a chance to honor her too.”

“I’m a city girl, so the silence out here is...it’s a little overwhelming. But I’d gladly take it over the sound of gunfire. This place is beautiful, and the kind of peaceful you don't really appreciate until it’s gone.”

Hard to believe I wouldn’t have ended up here at all if the Sheriff hadn’t taken a chance on me. He’ll say differently, but there’s a reason why Staci called me-calls me Rook, and why Joey always took the time to answer every single silly question I had. I didn’t have a whole lot of experience before heading here, and...they made it all worth the risk on my end too. Made me feel welcome when anyone else would’ve just shown me the door, and I’ll do damn near anything to get them back.

Location-Specific:

By any body of water: *voice pitched higher than normal* “Hey, you’re not-that’s looking pretty deep. Think I’ll um, hang close to the shore just in case.” *wanders around it, but never enters it*

At the Spread Eagle: *hanging close to either Mary May by the bar* *Mary May jokes about Hana spending more time talking to her than drinking* “Hey, I’m sparing you both the bad dancing and the bad flirting! Trust me, you don’t want to see either.” / *if by the jukebox in the back, can be found swaying to whatever’s playing*

After liberating the Radio Towers: “I really need to talk to Wheaty about getting Queen on the radio here, because we’re suffering from a real lack of that. Tell me you wouldn’t be ready and willing to kick all kinds of ass after listening to them for a bit.” / *near a Wolf Beacon while it’s blaring* “Jesus, Jacob really took a page out of every horror movie here, didn’t he? Note to self, stay far, far away from these at night.”

In the Henbane: “You want to trust your eyes. You also want to trust your ears, and every last bit of sense you’ve got, but here? You can't. And that honestly scares the shit out of me.” / “You see Faith too, don’t you? Right at the corner of your vision before you blink and she’s gone? Word of advice? Don’t approach her or talk to her. You’ll like what she has to say at first, but...not so much the wolverine taking a piece out of you afterwards.”

At Seed Ranch by the Boat Launch: *if present when Sharky drops the dingus line, she starts giggling until she snorts*

In Holland Valley: “Can you do me a favor? If you ever decide to do a little redecorating - like, say, make modifications to a giant, white three-letter sign up in the mountains - take me with you. Because pissing John off’s really what keeps me going, and lighting that ‘Yes’ sign up would be a thing of beauty.” / *later when John calls post-destruction she mouths, ‘Oh shit’ while 100% making this face:

Tagging: @amistrio @ma-sulevin @shallow-gravy​ @foofygoldfish @guileandgall​ @ofravensandgenesis​ @fadedjacket​ @seedlingsinner @teamhawkeye​ @redroci​ @risenlucifer​ @tomexraider​ @finefeatheredgamer​ @narcis-the-monk​ @scarlettkat86 @hawkfurze @raisinghellinotherworlds @fromathelastoveritaserum @shelliechen and anyone else that’s interested! I’d love to see your GFHs, so totally tag me if you do!

#deputy hana #gifs #couldn't help but go mostly lighthearted #b/c she's a total dork at heart no matter what #and the games totally encourage this #don't mind me #this is a hell of a lot longer than I intended #(now with Addie Nick and Jess b/c I couldn't resist!)

[ma-sulevin]

We’re finally done! It’s officially the last chapter! 

I want to thank everyone for supporting me through my first attempt at writing in the FC5 fandom. I don’t know why I decided to start with a novel-length AU idea, but I did, and it’s done, and I’m so happy I did it. 

I want to extend an extra-special thanks to @chyrstis​ who has commented on and shared every single chapter. Your comments gave me LIFE through this whole process.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 4338, chapter sixteen of sixteen!

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

The official diagnosis, six weeks later, after the National Guard and the feds and the EPA and the fuckin’ news crews have come and gone, is mass drug-induced hallucination. 

That’s it.

That’s the whole reason.

Mattie knows there’s more to it, knows there was something special behind it all. She’s the only one who remembers so much, the only one who can clearly describe how it feels to drown or be strangled to death, the only one who spent so much time listening to the black white black and the Voice.

She’s the only one who heard the voice except for Joseph, and he never fucking shuts up about it, even from the relative safety of his prison cell in Missoula, and so she’s never ever ever going to fucking bring it up.

Not to Staci, who smiles and teases her with just a little less energy than before, acting like he doesn’t remember the details of what happened to him in Jacob’s compound, but affected by it all the same.

Not to Joey, who smiles less often, who still curses every time someone brings up a Seed, who says it’s a damn good thing the National Guard showed up when they did or she would’ve hunted John down herself.

Not to Whitehorse, who is the quietest of them, whose sole moment of lost temper was immediately on returning to the station when he grabbed Nancy by the arm and threw her out into the parking lot, who has started offering Mattie hugs and pats on the back when it looks like she needs them (basically all the time).

Certainly not to Burke, who left without sleeping the next day, who she hasn’t seen since.

And absolutely not to the state therapist who brought two big suitcases and moved into the Hot Springs Hotel, only to have to drive into Falls End every day because no one would go into the Henbane yet.

She’s not trying to get involuntarily committed.

If she’s going to be committed, it’ll be on her own terms, and only when she needs it.

And she doesn’t need it, not yet.

She’s seen as something of a hero around the county, receiving free drinks from Mary May and free food from everyone else. People stop her to say thank you, and Boomer always runs up to jump on her if he happens to be nearby with Rae Rae.

That slows down too, as the days pass and things go back to normal, and only the people most involved in her fight against the Seeds look like they’re thinking about her bleeding for them when they look at her.

She starts looking at property listings online.

It’s not like she’s ever going to get fired now.

It takes the full six weeks — two weeks of paid leave, four weeks of being back on the job — for Jude to show up at the station. He has coffees for everyone and a look of grim determination on his face.

Staci sends a furtive look at Whitehorse, who feigns disinterest, and then accepts the coffees with a quick peck on the lips, and then Mattie hands Joey five dollars because she thought it would take longer.

(Mattie wins the five dollars back from Staci later when he owes her for Mary Mary bringing Joey lunch.)

She takes to visiting Jerome after services on Sundays, not quite ready to start going to church again, but craving the kind of spiritual guidance he gives so easily without making her feel like she’s going to hell no matter what.

She visits the Ryes, takes them baby gifts, receives hugs from them both, listens to Kim complain about how she was technically pregnant an extra two months until the memories start to fade and then are erased by Carmina’s abrupt appearance into the world.

She visits Grace, visits Jess, drives up to look at the abandoned Veteran’s Center, with its inhabitants arrested and its weapons cache seized, and thinks if she burned it to the ground, no one would turn her in for it.

Every night she goes back to her apartment, every night she goes home and puts a little food out for the stray cat and thinks about taking one of the sleeping pills her therapist recommended and gets in bed without opening the bottle, every night she curls around her pillow and she cries.

If the bombs had fallen that night she was with Sharky, before she snuck out without saying goodbye, if they had fallen first thing that morning before the sun came up… she would still be with him. They’d be together, in his bunker, alone but together, probably high as fuck and burning through their condom supply.

The world would be over, but they would be happy.

It’s selfish.

It’s so selfish.

But she misses it.

She misses him.

The therapist makes it eight weeks in Hope County before she packs up and goes back to Missoula. She leaves a recommendation for a virtual office, and Mattie puts the card next to her unused pills, but she thinks she overhears Staci telling Jude he’s going to set up regular appointments.

She gets Joey’s tattoo artist’s information from her and starts to look at phoenix tattoos on Pinterest, the blank space of her left forearm mocking her without its tally marks.

Mattie makes it nine weeks before she breaks under the strain. She makes it through nine weeks of emptiness, of loneliness, of the crushing feeling of how any moment could be her last.

Is this how she lived before? Was she ever so aware of her own mortality, or did she go through life acting like she was fucking invincible until the fact of it was actually shoved in her face?

She wakes up with the sun on her day off. She showers. She shaves. She conditions and blow dries and styles. She puts on a dress and grabs a sweater.

And she drives to the Henbane, up the hill, and to Sharky’s trailer.

He’s standing outside when she parks her car, an unlit cigarette in his mouth and a bucket in one hand. He looks over at her from under the brim of his hat and dumps another handful of… something… on the ground, then holds the bucket in front of him with both arms wrapped around it.

“You said you wasn’t gonna arrest me for any of that shit I did!”

Mattie freezes in place, halfway across to him, and just stares.

He stares back.

“Does it look like I’m on duty?” Her voice come out higher-pitched than she means it, incredulous and not sure if she should start laughing or not. “Does Joey ever show up like this to drag you to the station?” She kicks one foot out to the side to emphasize the skirt she’s wearing, and his gaze immediately drops to the bare expanse of legs he can see.

“Uhh--”

“What are you even doing right now? What is that?”

“Uhh.” He looks down into the bucket, movements a little slow like he doesn’t want to look away from her skin, then he stares like he forgot the question. When he looks back up, she can tell his eyebrows are drawn tight together. “Sawdust.”

“Sawdust?”

“For the gasoline spills? I’m tryna… clean the place up a bit?”

They stare at each other as silence falls again. It stretches until it’s uncomfortable, and then it snaps.

Mattie bursts into tears. Not little ones, not anything cute or delicate, but big, ugly sobs that wrack her whole body and make her start to curl in on herself as she starts to shake. Her voice rises in an involuntary wail that she tries to muffle with her hands, but she can’t quiet it any more than she can stop it.

The tears overwhelm her, and so does Sharky.

There’s a dull thump of the bucket hitting the ground and then he’s in her space a half second later, his arms around her and one hand cupping the back of her head to pull her close. She presses into him, head tucked under his chin, and grabs the soft material of his hoodie for dear life.

The sharp smell of kerosene lingering deep in the fabric makes her cry harder at first as half-foggy memories burst into full clarity in her mind.

Climbing into his lap to sleep in John’s ranch, high and bruised and happy.

Kissing him for the first time behind the Spread Eagle after he arranged a private place for her to relax after rescuing Joey.

Drinking with him up at the PIN-K0 radar station and resting against him as he joked with Hurk.

Falling into his arms after she escaped from Jacob, shoulder dislocated, starving and sick. Healing and growing stronger, tucked safe against him, under him.

Feeling happy and safe and loved and protected with him.

Feeling home. 

She doesn’t realize Sharky’s murmuring to her until her sobs have calmed into tiny gasping breaths and her tears have dried on the faded words of his hoodie, she doesn’t realize he’s whispering that it’s okay and he has her and she’s safe until after her body has already realized it.

She’s safe.

“You’re okay, shorty, I got you,” he says, voice barely audible with his face buried like it is in her hair. “Fuck, I missed you. Please stop crying.”

She lifts her chin so her nose is pressed against his throat. “I’m sorry.”

He draws in a shaky breath and holds her tighter until he exhales. “What for?”

“Waiting so long to come back home.”

His hands are shaking harder than she’s ever seen them as he pulls away enough to cup her face. He stares down at her, studying her, and she lets him just hold her like that even as he blinks his own tears out of his eyes.

“Dep, do you… are you saying you still… love me?” His voice is shaky and wet, those beautiful blue eyes red around the rims. It sounds like he’s forcing the question out, like part of him is trying to keep it inside where the answer can’t hurt him, but the bigger part of him is too goddamn hopeful to not ask.

She squeezes him tighter as she speaks, the words somehow hard to get out even after everything they’ve been through together, even after finding him in her arms once again. “Yeah, baby. I still love you.”

He squeezes her tighter, almost tight enough to hurt even though this time she doesn’t have any lingering injuries to make the pain sharp, but he doesn’t pull away to kiss her or to look down at her.

He’s not ready to let her go.

“Okay, but, like--” he pauses to take a deep breath, and Mattie braces herself for an emotional stream of consciousness from Sharky. “I know you know, ‘cause I told you before, and also ‘cause you’re a cop, but, like, I’m on probation, and I got this rap sheet that’s a mile long, and not all of it should be on there but I can’t really help that now, and I know the sheriff don’t like me, and I don’t want you to get in trouble at your job--”

She’s heard enough. She wiggles out of his grasp and grabs his face in both her hands. He cuts off mid-sentence and stares at her with his mouth still open like the rest of his thoughts will come out the second she takes her hands off his skin. 

“Sharky, babe, you don’t -- I don’t care about that. I knew all that, and I love you, and I’m here, and we’ll figure out how to work it out, okay?” He nods. His mouth closes. “I want to at least try. I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t try.”

“Really?” His voice cracks, and Mattie’s self-restraint does too.

She pulls his face down to hers, and he goes willingly, leaning so far into her space that she finds herself leaning backwards, resting her weight in his arms. She throws her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life as his lips press to hers and his heart beats against her chest.

It feels just the same as she remembered. It’s warm and comforting, safe, and she can’t help but smile as his goatee scratches her chin. He still shivers when she tangles her fingers in his hair, and he still licks her lower lip after he nips it, and he still holds her as tight as he can.

Some things are new, different now that their circumstances have changed so much. He smells like his cheap shampoo instead of gasoline, and he tastes like cinnamon toothpaste instead of cigarettes or beer or coffee, and there’s no stench of bliss or lingering injuries or far-off gunfighting to ruin the moment.

It’s just like it was, but somehow… it’s better.

They break apart when their kisses begin to taste like salt, and Sharky wipes the tears from her cheeks, then he kisses her forehead.

“Oh, my god,” she breathes, eyes still squeezed shut. “I love you.”

He moves like he’s going to wrap her up in another hug, but he scoops her into his arms instead. She shrieks, considers lashing out, and then bursts into laughter instead.

He’s beaming at her when she wraps her arms around his neck for stability, then he starts carrying her up to his home.

“I love you, too, shorty. I’m glad you came back.”

He has to put her down on his porch to get the door to his trailer open, and she grabs his free hand as he does. It’s just like their first time together, when she held his hand to keep him from losing his nerve as they walked to the house he’d gotten ready for her, but this time, she’s just tugging him through to his bedroom as fast as possible.

He follows her, of course he does, laughing a little at her eagerness, and she winks at him over her shoulder.

He grabs for her as soon as they’re near the bed, wrapping his arms around her waist and letting one hand dip down to her ass to squeeze through the fabric. She smiles as she lets him pull her close, lifting up onto her toes so she can reach him better to accept his next kiss, this one a little harder than the one they shared outside, a little hungrier now that they’re definitely not going to be seen.

Why did she wait so long to come out here?

What was she trying to prove to herself?

Guilt creeps up on her, distracting her from the feel of his beard on her face and his tongue against hers, and then his hands pull her attention right back to him as they start to pull her skirt up so he can get his hands on her skin, still on her ass.

Sharky swallows the little noise of surprise she makes, moaning back at her as he squeezes and lifts and encourages her to lift one of her legs to wrap around his thigh.

“Oh, fuck, I missed you.” Sharky breaks their kiss because he can’t bear to be silent for another moment, and Mattie takes advantage of it by leaning closer and kissing the base of his throat. “Oh, my god. Do you know how many times I fuckin’ jerked it thinkin’ about you showing up here like you just did?”

She wiggles herself free of his grasp and pushes his chest so he sits down hard on his mattress. “That all you missed?”

She waits for his answer, trying to hide her smile, hands on her hips.

He blinks once, then grabs for her again, trying to pull her down into his lap. “No, fuck no, I missed everything about you.”

She kicks off her shoes and climbs onto him, hovering a little over his lap on her knees so she can tug at his hoodie to make him take it off.

“Like what?”

He pulls his hoodie off, and she rewards him by resting her weight on him. He bites his lower lip and groans; he’s already hard.

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and speaks against her skin. “I missed you bossin’ me around all the time,” he says, and then leaves an open-mouthed kiss against her throat. “And how you always actually listened to me.” Another kiss, this time on the underside of her jaw. “And how you were always putting your cold fuckin’ hands in my shirt.”

She laughs and does just that, sliding her hands under the collar of his tank top to rest on the warm skin of his back. He shivers good-naturedly and noses her sweater to the side so he can find a good patch of skin under her collarbone to latch onto.

“I kinda missed always having hickeys,” she says, rocking just a little in his lap to tease them both, telling the truth even though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone else. She liked having the little reminders of Sharky when they were apart, the little bruises that showed she had someone who cared about her as much as she cared about him.

Sharky makes a little grumbling sound that sounds like he wants to talk, but he doesn’t release her skin as he focuses on sucking a mark that will last, and she laughs again, delighted. 

He finally releases her and admires his handwork before looking up to meet her gaze. “You always laughed a lot when we were foolin’ around, but not like, at me, you know? Just ‘cause you were havin’ fun. I missed that too.”

She moves her hands to cup his jaw, holding him still so she can memorize the expression in his warm blue eyes. “I love you so much.”

He beams at her. “I love you more.”

She kisses him again because she doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how else to show him how she feels. 

The relationship they built while fighting the cult together was too strong to fade away like the physical pains and sharp-edged memories of the horrors. It feels now, wrapped up in each other, that they’ve never been apart and will never be apart again.

She drops her sweater to the floor and yanks off Sharky’s top, desperate to feel his skin against hers. He only lets her move enough to remove clothing and then grabs for her again, not willing to let her get very far away at all. 

He flips them, finally, when she starts trying to get at his belt, turning so that she’s flat on his mattress and he’s kneeling over her. He ignores her reaching hands and slides his hands up her legs, smooth for the first time he’s touched them, then back down, then up again all the way to where her panties rest on her hips.

“That’s ni— oh, fuck.” He pauses with her panties half down her thighs, exposing how she’s shaved herself completely for him. She didn’t know if he’d prefer it or not, knows he absolutely doesn’t care if she’s completely hairy, but it felt good to take the time to follow her old routines. “Fuck, yeah, okay.”

He flips her skirt all the way up and leans down without any other words leaving his lips to cover her slit with his mouth.

He’s just as enthusiastic as she remembers, and she shrieks as his tongue presses into her. It’s wet and messy and eager and so Sharky that she can’t do anything but hold on with her fingers tangled in his hair and her heels digging into his back. He groans against her, feasting on her, eyebrows drawn together as he focuses all his energy on giving her the most pleasure he can.

His beard burns her sensitive skin, wetness drips down the curve of her ass and onto the back of her dress, and Sharky’s fingers press little bruises into the flesh of her thighs as he holds her still. 

It’s so good, it’s too good, and it’s wonderful, and if this is how it’s going to be the rest of her life she might just die for good with his head between her legs.

What a fuckin’ way to go.

She wails as she comes, pulls Sharky’s hair and kicks his back by accident, and then she laughs a little hysterically when he tries to keep going like he did their first morning together.

“Stop, fuckin’ Christ, Sharky. Holy shit.” He stops right when she says, sits back on his knees and beams down at her, proud of himself, face flushed and beard wet, stupid gold chain still around his neck because he never takes it off. “I love that you love that so much, but if you want me to ride you again, you’re going to have to quit it.”

His mouth drops open a little as he sucks in a deep breath, the flush on his cheeks darkening dangerously, and then he’s twisting around in obedience to flop on the mattress next to her. He opens his belt and wiggles his jeans down over his hips as Mattie pushes herself to her feet so she can drop her dress with her sweater and grab a condom from the pile she remembers, and then she turns around to see him watching her with one hand tucked behind his head and the other slowly pumping his cock.

She watches him right back for a minute, taking in the red and orange ink on his forearm, the twisting of the muscles there making the flames look like they’re dancing, the burned skin on his shoulder and chest, the hair across his pecs and stomach, the little bit of tummy he sucks in when he sees her looking.

“This what you did waiting for me to come back?”

He nods at her, pumping himself a little harder as he keeps waiting. He doesn’t look back up at her face, apparently unable to drag his eyes away from her breasts, her stomach, her bare thighs still glistening when she takes a step forward.

“Here.” She tosses him the condom and climbs on the bed as he rolls it on, then crawls over him on all fours as he watches her with wide, fond eyes. “Ready, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sharky says, voice a little too rough to be as bright as it usually is. He puts one hand on her ribs and holds himself steady with the other so she can sink down on to him, and he moans aloud as she does. He doesn’t look away from the sight, and she doesn’t look away from his face, and as soon as he’s hilted inside of her she’s leaning down to kiss him.

He tastes like her, and she licks it from his mouth as she starts to move on still-shaky legs, fucking him nice and slow so she can drag it out. He can’t stop touching her, running his hands over her thighs and hips, ribs and breasts, into her hair that’s so much softer than it was in the bliss for her access to proper conditioning treatments, across her neck and down her back to start the process over again.

The drag and slide inside of her is exquisite, beautiful, a feeling she’s missed these long weeks, and she can’t stop kissing him even when her face starts to burn. She fucks him a little harder when his groans grow louder, feels sweat beading along her hairline and dripping down her temple before Sharky kisses it away.

“Sharky, baby, you feel so good,” she says, cheek pressed against his, trembling as his fingers tighten on her hips and he thrusts up into her like he can’t help it anymore. “Gonna make me come again.”

His groan is deep in his chest, his next thrust a little harder into her, knocking off her balance so she falls against his chest with a high, breathy giggle. 

He wraps his arms around her and holds her against him, using his leverage to start really fucking into her. She giggles again and holds onto his shoulders, nuzzling against his cheek as she just relaxes her body and lets the pleasure grow inside her, listening to his deep groans.

She loves how loud he is when they’re in bed together, how willing he is to let her know how good she’s making him feel.

“Yeah, just like that, I love it, I love you, c’mon, baby…”

His hands tighten and she revels in it, in the bright spots of pain under the pleasure, and she presses her face against the scar on his shoulder and cries out, long and low, as she comes on his cock. 

He follows her over the edge immediately, like he was just waiting for her permission, his moan half muffled in her hair as he curls into her. She shivers and clenches around him, tight, pulling another low moan out of him, and she sits up a little and laughs because otherwise she might cry at just how goddamn happy she feels, finally, finally, after everything.

Sharky beams up at her, eyes half-closed and sleepy looking, and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

She kisses him, soft and slow, still smiling, and then moves to stretch out on her side next to him. She waits as he gets up to throw out the condom, then he comes back and gathers her into his arms.

He kisses her forehead. “Now what?”

She shrugs and nuzzles at the underside of his jaw. “We just take it one day at a time, I guess.”

He makes a sleepy, grumbly noise deep in his throat. “Mkay.” Trusting, loving, beautiful Sharky. “I love you.”

She presses herself as close to him as she can. “I love you too.”

#sharky boshaw #sharky x deputy #far cry 5 #oc: mattie covington #x: burn like a star fire

[steveharrington]

smash or pass the entire cast of brba/bcs

i hope u know i am doing as close to entire as i can get\

walter white: hardest pass ive ever taken

jesse pinkman: SMASHHHHH BABY 100% SMASH OF COURSE!

skyler white: here’s the thing skyler is absolutely beautiful but i’d be scared of ending up like ted, so, for that reason, pass :/

walter jr: s4 walter jr where he’s like mature and hot? smash! any time before that no he’s too baby

marie schrader: smash!!!!!!!!!!!!!! god her vibes are amazing

hank schrader: another very hard pass

mike ehrmantraut: thats uh my dad so pass obviously

skinny pete: pass but i would like let him take me to dinner

combo: seemed like a sweetheart but had one of those piercings on his chin so pass

badger: maybe this is controversial but? smash!

tuco: are you kidding that would be so scary. pass.

krazy-8: dude was fine as hell smash for sure

bogdan: pass he’s mean to his employees. thats not like the only reason but it’s the most prominent

steve gomez: sorry pass he’s a cop

jane margolis: extreme smash are you fucking kidding me the scene where she’s standing over jesse oh my fucking god oh my god 

donald margolis: for reasons stated above, pass. i cannot in good faith smash a daughter And her father

gus fring: he’s gay! so pass because he wouldn’t want that

saul goodman: been thinking about this one for a good 45 seconds ....... the obvious answer is pass but idk something about it doesn’t feel right ....... how about this pass on saul but smash on jimmy

gale boetticher: is that how you spell his last name? anyways smash he would treat me right!

huell and kuby: pass because they’re one entity and im uncomfortable with that

ted beneke: ive said before he looks like a republican candidate who drops first from the race and so obviously pass

ted beneke’s secretary: also pass

jesse’s therapy group leader: um. pass...because it didn’t end well for his wife :/

victor: smash! he was hot! and he didnt deserve what happened to him bro that was some bullshit he remembered the aluminum! 

lydia rodarte-quayle: SMASHHHHHHHHHHH OH MY GOD MISS RODARTE-QUAYLE PLEASE

todd alquist & co: i was lying earlier THIS is by far the hardest pass i’ll ever take

andrea cantillo: SMASH she’s so beautiful and angelic and perfect and sweet and caring and perfect and beautiful and perfect

danny trejo: pass. so no head????????

wendy: pass because she’s had enough of this in her life

carmen: beautiful and rejected + fired walter so smash!

elliot: pass. however,

gretchen: smash!

kim wexler: i would give my life for a chance to smash if im being honest here

chuck mcgill: another contender for hardest pass of all time but todd keeps that spot for now

howard hamlin: ok like heres the thing..........he kinda cute yknow..........and like.......he’s a lawyer like idk.......maybe i’d smash........maybe 

francesca: remember when she said jesse pinkman’s out here smoking pot? that was so funny. smash. 

nacho varga: oh my GODDDDDDDDDD SMASH

that girl with the beret who does jimmy’s make-up for his ads: smash because every scene she’s in im just drawn to her energy

lady that works at los pollos hermanos: pass bc i feel like she’s the kind of shift manager who snitches to gus if you’re like two minutes late

max: if he was bi? smash! he’s so hot. i see and understand why gus is evil

junkyard manager: good guy a bit too old for me so pass but tbh he would also treat me right

skateboard dudes whose legs were broken because of jimmy: smash! im morosexual

and finally,

the girl at the gas station who was convinced by jesse’s baby blue eyes to let him pay for cigarettes with meth and then cried when hank interrogated her because she didn’t want to get in trouble with her dad but still had time whilst crying to describe jesse’s baby blue eyes: smash

#thank u taylor #i hope i didnt forget anyone major #breaking bad #bcs #breakingbadlesbian #answered

[kvngjesse-blog]

––––––    helloooOOOooo i’m rose  ( 9teen, she/her )  and this is jesse !! he’s twenty-one, very bi, and a music shop clerk + musician. he can come off as just quiet and sullen and really rn he can be super pessimistic and reckless, but deep, deep, down he’s super sweet i promise lmao. i’m so excited to start writing him with you guys, under the cut is more about him  ––  pls like this or add me on d.iscord @ confused#8715 and ill hit u up for plots !   

tw: death of a family member, drug abuse, implied child abuse

                                                                                                                     stolen glances,                                                                             already-empty pockets pulled inside out,                                                                      & cigarette smoke lingering on dirty laundry.

                                                     B  A  C  K  G  R  O  U  N  D  –  !

jesse was born may 11th, 1998 to a parents he knows never should have had him. his parents had first moved to new york city from busan, south korea and already couldn’t afford to make ends met when jesse came along and was another mouth to feed, and they never let him forget how much his existence had put a burden on the already-struggling family.

together jesse’s parents always ran one of the most poorly organized money laundering schemes that jesse has still ever seen, which was only worsened by his father’s habit of spending whatever cash the family had on liquor while his mother spent most of her time trying to gamble it back. 

three years later after the  “ family business ”  fell through in flushing, his parents packed up whatever their lives consisted of and moved across the country to seattle to start the same scheme all over again, and jesse’s little sister was born shortly afterwards 

while the two were growing up, they were practically in separable. jesse wanted to make sure her life could be more than just being the brunt of their parent’s problems as their father’s drinking worsened and their mother would disappear for days at a time dealing with him

when he was a teenager, jesse started dealing drugs to try to get any more stable income for him and his sister than what his parents provided and then routinely wasted away, and this quickly progressed to him selling more and more and falling in with the wrong people lmao

the more jesse got involved with that life, the less time he spent with his sister. never had good grades to begin with, now when he wasn’t dealing, he was running deliveries to larger distributors just to for the check. in the meantime, all he could hope was that the money he was getting to put food on the table was doing more for his sister than being there with her could.

but any protecting jesse tried to have done completely backfired. his sister wasn’t oblivious to what jesse was doing, and he could only keep her at a distance from that side of his life for so long, but what he thought was only weed and the occasional adderall or xanax went much further.

his sister died of a drug overdose a little over a year ago, and there hasn’t been a day since that jesse hasn’t blamed himself. he’s tried everything he can to change and get away from the life that he led and that took his sister.

he moved to the building to try to start over, staying in the cheapest studio while he works at a music shop and picks up gigs primarily as a drummer as much as he can to try to pay to maybe one day start college. and while he only goes through more and more cigs everyday, he’s managed to mostly stay away from drugs  ( or at least, selling them )  altogether 

                          P  E  R  S  O  N  A  L  I  T  Y   &   H  E  A  D  C  A  N  O  N  S  –  !

okay this boi is kinda an emo mess rn and is only half decent at hiding that fact  ( im sorry if hes just like .. sulking wherever he goes but he’s secretly just a softie who doesn’t like how vulnerable he feels lmao )

he’s kinda noctural at times, and goes up to the roof a lot of the time to have a cig and make sense of his thoughts 

most of the time he’s actually super empathetic and thoughtful, but catch him on a rare day where he’s especially off and he can be brash and easily butt heads with people for no reason which .. he knows he needs to work on and always feels really apologetic afterwards 

jesse absolutely adores music, and it’s prob the only thing that’s helped him get through the last year. he used to be equally drawn to the guitar as he was to the drums, but for some reason guitar doesn’t feel the same as it used to right now and the drums are honestly just a better way to get out that Saddness and Frustration ™

listen i wanna say that he’s a former fuckboi but rly .. he’s just slowed down a little bit because he kinda just wants to avoid any emotional intimacy and complexity like the plague rn

... he hasn’t cut his hair since his sister died. he hasn’t really given any thought to it at all, but jesse really needs a wakeup call that yk .. haircuts exist for a reason 

— kim youngkyun/hwiyoung. he/him. cismale. | was that JESSE KANG i just saw in the hideaway lobby ? i hear the TWENTY-ONE year old spends most of their time repairing instruments while working at a music shop, but i’ve always just seen them PICKING UP GIGS AS A DRUMMER WHENEVER HE CAN. they live in 1C and i often see them in the halls. they always give me a vibe of stolen glances, already-empty pockets pulled inside out, and cigarette smoke lingering on dirty laundry. (  rose. 19. cst. she/her.  )

#hide:intro #* 002. ––––––– 「 ooc 」 #wow this is a Mess #but lmk if theres anything else youd like to know about him ! #his blog is still under construction but ill hopefully get to that soon !!

[writinanon]

Deputy Mercy Stein

Please note that I cannot draw so I made this bust of her using this Doll Maker. The only problem I have with it is there wasn’t an option to give her small streaks of white in her hair because she started ‘greying’ at 17 I couldn’t really do this in the Game either and that also made me sad (her hair actually turns white instead of silver or grey).

Name: Mercy Stein

Age: 25

Mercy is a relatively laid back person but is usually the first person to walk straight into danger. She can calmly assess a situation but usually will head in regardless because no one else is willing to and someone has to go. She tends to keep calm in tense moments and usually can plan an exit from whatever dangerous situations she gets into but there are times when she runs on blind intuition. Sometimes this works sometimes it doesn’t.

She is a former marine medic and she served three tours in Afghanistan. She bounced around after she was honorably discharged before landing in Montana. While Deputy Sheriff wasn’t her ideal job she felt that she belonged in Hope County and since there wasn’t room in any of the teams of Emergency Medical Services (The three hospitals of the County were all underfunded now and minimally staffed) she joined the Sheriff’s Department.

Mercy is the child of a ‘broken’ home her father was never around and her mother didn’t really care about her or her siblings. Most of her siblings are in prison for various crimes, the notable exception being her younger brother who followed her example and joined the military to escape their life. He is currently living overseas in Germany. She only ever really could rely on herself and she took care of her little brother, to have people she can trust and rely on is very important for her. She keeps in touch with all the members of her old unit and had planned to join the VA after hearing about the legendary Grace Armstrong.

When things go south Mercy falls in with the Resistance easily, respect for Dutch and anger at what Jacob has done driving her more than John trying to drown her or Joseph preaching at her.

She tries to lighten the mood whenever she can and finds playing cards and has regular poker nights at the Spread Eagle. Mercy is very adept at the game having used it to fleece better lunches out of her classmates in school and fleece her fellow unit members of their chocolate and cigarettes. It doesn’t take the other members long to realize they have a formidable card shark amongst them and Nick, Sharky, and Hurk are always up to try and beat her in the game.

Before coming to Hope and the events of the Game Mercy is only a stress or social smoker, having been trying to quit because her little brother is always nagging at her that she’ll never meet her nieces and nephews if she gives herself lung cancer. After everything kicks off she isn’t exactly a chain smoker but she could rival a chimney some days, especially after her first fight with a group of Angels (she spends an entire night haunted by what those poor people have become and wondering if it was a kindness to kill them and then coming to the terrifying realization that she’s slowly coming to be desensitized towards having to kill, this disturbs her more than the Angels)

Mercy travels mostly with Jess or Grace and Boomer. Mercy plans on getting a therapy dog once this is over. And never touching a gun again, or a bow, or a knife, or a screwdriver.

Despite the fact that she worries about herself becoming a monster she tries to keep the others positive and tries to smile for them. She manages to sneak some baby clothes to Kim and gets Jerome a new Bible since he had to hide a gun in his. Mercy does her best to bring hope back to the people of the county and then once they have it she does her best to keep it alive.

Mercy will sometimes crack jokes about her name and to piss off the Seeds she will use the phrases ‘Lord have Mercy’ or ‘Merciful Lord’ to goad Faith, John, and Joseph. This is why John takes so much pleasure in calling her Sin Wrath, because Mercy is the Virtue that opposes Wrath. She’s a contradiction that needs to be shown the way. Jacob doesn’t really strike her as religious so she doesn’t bother with that kind of annoyance. Instead she goes for small slights against the fact that he was only in the Army and she was in the Marines. The rivalries between different military branches are still alive in all the Vets and while Mercy is playful in her rivalry with Jess and Grace she is very much the antagonist to Jacob.

After she gets out of her uniform she wears cargo pants so she can have extra weapons and medical supplies easily reachable in her pockets. She also wears a grey tank top, a tactical vest, and a large thick zippered hoodie that is dark green and has a fleece lining inside. This protects her from most of the elements and allows her to use it as a nice pillow for when she finds shelter in the abandoned houses and doesn’t want to move too much around. She also typically sweats hiking boots and has on fingerless gloves to protect her hands and feet in the touch terrain of Montana but give her grip when she needs it.

She does not appreciate the unconsensual body modification and really doesn’t like the fact that her new tattoo clashes with all her others. She does however wear it openly on her chest. John Seed failed to strip this skin off of her. He failed to make her Atone.

Honestly it is Jacob’s conditioning that bothers her most and what brings her both the most fear and anxiety. She doesn’t like having common ground with him and will deliberately antagonize him despite knowing it will end badly for her. After every trip to the cages once she’s escaped again she spends a lot of time alone with Boomer or at the 8-Bit Pizza Bar or in the Spread Eagle.

Mercy is trying to save the County and if she ends up lost because of it, it’s a price she’s willing to pay. 

#Far Cry 5 #My Deputy #Personal #Mercy Stein is my baby and I will fight anyone that hurts her

[sugarwaterradio]

Best of 'Plead the Fifth' ft. Iggy Azalea, Tyga, Shaq & More! | Wild 'N Out | #PleadTheFifth

- Nick! You know I never wanted you to go through no divorce, but don't it feel good to not have to lie about smashing the Wild N Out girls? (audience cheers) - I plead the fifth. (audience cheers) (hip hop music) (audience cheers) - Mister Nick Cannon, how old were you when you sold out to the man? (audience groans) - How old were you, Nick? - I didn't sell out! I don't know what you talkin' 'bout. - I rest my case. - I object. - I know you didn't sell out. I sold out. I sold out a Walmart, Target-- (audience cheers) - Nicholas Bartholomew Cannon. - Not my name. - Is it true that Bow Wow slept with Kim Kardashian before you did? (audience groans) - Nah, I went first. Ask Ray J. (audience cheers) - Wild out! - ♪ Put your right hand up ♪ ♪ Put your left hand up ♪ ♪ Put your right hand up. ♪ The beautiful Remy Ma, how you doin' today? - I'm fine. - I just wanna ask a couple of questions. We all know what happened. We know that you have been to the penitentiary system. You have inside information. So, what I wanna ask you today, Miss Remy Ma, is how many cartons of cigarettes, exactly, do you think this bitch woulda went for? - Oh! (audience cheers) - I would say like a half a carton. It depends what, you know, that person's wiling to do. (audience laughs and cheers) - Just a half? - That's a lot! - I can't even get a full carton? - That's a lot! - Half a carton of cigarettes? - That's a lot. Charlemagne, half a carton of cigarettes, God bless you, my sista. (audience cheers) - What's up, Nick? - What up, Hit? - We was supposed to go to the studio last night, won't we? - Yeah, yeah, man. - I ain't hear from you. So, what was you doin' between 10 p.m. and midnight? - Ten, I was 'bout to get somethin' to eat and I was sleep by midnight. - Really, Nick? Your honor, I wanna bring out a witness. She said, was you gon let the people know exactly what it was you was about to eat? (audience cheers) - I was 'bout to eat her! (audience cheers) - Wild Out! - I got a question for you, Stevie J. Let me tell you what blow my mind. These Wild N Out girls. Look, look, we got one with the cotton candy hair. We got the short brown with the sideburns all curly on cue. My question is, if you could have one of 'em, which one would you take down? (audience groans) - All of them. That one, that one. That one! That one! That one. I want the whole room! - People in the courtroom today are watching you play Plead the fifth and we want to know five rappers that you can rap better than. (audience groans) - Nick Nick Nick Nick Cannon. (audience laughs and cheers) - We gon' see! - Wild out! - Now, you my man, Shaq, but I got a question that I know everybody in here wondering. What do you do when you have to take a number two on a airplane? (audience laughs) - I'll show you. (audience laughs) The doors be real small, right? So I gotta come in, head first, then I gotta turn around, make sure the toilet clean, wipe it off, then I gotta put my whole body against the door, pull 'em down, then I gotta squeeze like this and my knees be against the door and I be like... (audience cheers) - You never know unless you ask. (audience cheers) - Ray J. You had the show, uh, Love of Ray J, right? - Did I? Yeah, yeah, I had that. - Yeah, you did, you did. I just wanna know, I know America wanna know. Which girl on that show had the worst (beeps) game? (audience groans) - Imma keep it 100. - That mean she use teeth, all that. - Listen, I ain't never did this. - It's okay. - It's gon be a lot of people that's 'bout to be mad. - We need our G names, baby! - Alright, alright. I plead the fifth. (audience cheers) - Smart man! - Wild out! - Nicholas Cannon. - Yes. - Just three questions, okay? - Three? - Just left the crime scene. What letter is between H and J? - I. - Okay, alright. P-L-E-A-D spells what? - Plead. - Oh, plead, okay, yep, that's two. Okay, now, this one here, I just want you to fill in the blank, okay? Just fill in the blank. It's gonna help us a lot. In the show Martin, it's Bruh Man from floor. (audience laughs) - The fifth. - Thank you, your honor. (audience cheers) - Whatever! - Nicholas Cannon. - We see him all on Instagram, you know, in matching Ferraris. - He's managing her now. - Managing her! - But she's out of control. - We just wanna know, you (beeps) Amber Rose or what, man? (audience cheers) - Absolutely not! (audience groans) Y'all don't believe me? This is the Bible. - That ain't no damn Bible! - I'm her manager! (audience talks back) - Time out! Time out! That is a good point. She don't do nothing, Nick. What are you managing? That's an even better question. What does Amber Rose do? (audience laughs) - I plead the fifth. - Wild out! - You can have whatever you'd like. Well, I like the truth, Mr. Harris. Do you mind if I call you Mr. Harris? That is your name, right, sir? Don't have anything to say. Government, Clifford Harris, Correct? Well, I can understand. I only know two Cliffords, that's you and the big red dog. We gon keep it moving. We gon keep it moving. We all know you a mogul, you one of the greatest hip hop artists of our time, but what people don't give you credit for us you are also a lifesaver. You talked a man down from off of a sky scraper that prevented him from hurting himself, right? - That could be the case. - That could be the case. Well, since you like saving things so much, how come you never have done anything to help save my team captain's rap career? How come you never done anything? You've never done a feature, you never done a song. I've never even seen you in a picture with him. Why have you not helped him? - We on the same team! - Look man, I'm tryna get you a feature from Tip right now. Let me work, alright? - What rap career? (audience cheers) - Nick Cannon. - Yes, Mr. Mike? - It's only one question we all wanna know the answer to. (audience groans) Do you even like your music? (audience cheers) - Tell the truth! Tell the truth! Tell the Truth! Tell the Truth! - I plead the fifth. (audience cheers) - Wild out! - I just wanna say, I think you are real beautiful. Like really, real beautiful. And myself, my cast mates, and I know every dude in here would really like to know, how much of that booty is really real? (audience groans) - Y'all all wanna know? These guys over here? - Yes, yes, yes, yes! - Alright, Imma put you up on game. It's real in your hands, but y'all don't need to be worrying about booty that's above your weight class. (audience cheers) - Uh, Mr. Ross. - Right, right. - Imma get straight to it. You know, MMG, that's your label. So, MMG is more than a label, though. It's like a family. - Most definitely. - You guys are like brothers. And, as we all know, brothers fight sometimes. And it was a well-publicized dispute between two of your biggest artists, so my question to you, Mr. Ross, is, in a brotherly, friendly, fist fight, who you taking? Meek Mill or Wale? (audience cheers) - Who you got? - Imma plead the fifth. - Exactly! (audience cheers) - Wild out! - Hi Nick, how are ya? - Hi, Jess. Which one of her hits, something you don't have, so sorry, so sorry, so sorry!. It's very rude. I know you're my boss, sorry. Um, which one of her hits would you say best describes how you feel about Mariah Carey now? I Should Have Cheated? I Just Want it to be Over? Or I Don't Love You No Mo'? (audience cheers) - It's okay, Nick, you can admit it! - I don't love you no mo'! (audience cheers) - He's lyin'! He's lyin'! - Okay, I still love her a little bit. (audience cheers) - My grind alright? - Yes sir. My grind good? - Yes. - Okay. Luda. - Yes sir. - You a family man now. - Yeah. - But you wasn't always that way. You told us you had hoes by near, hoes by far. It was hoes in the room, it was hoes in the car. And then, you went as far to tell us you had hoes in other area codes. - True. - Now that you married, when you visit with your family, which area code are you most worried about? (audience cheers) - Good question! - That's a good question. Imma have to go with the 2-1-3. - Two-one, they be giving me trouble too! (audience cheers) - Wild out! - Mr. Cannon, you create opportunities for people. For example, the Wild N Out girls. Like, you give them a opportunity to be more than just objectified on Instagram and social media. - You get it, you get it! - So, my question to you with that said, Mr. Cannon is, would you allow your daughter to be a Wild N Out girl? (audience groans) - Hell, nah! (audience cheers) - Oh, oh! Hell nah! Ladies, come here! Come here, Ladies. Uh, well, with that being said, what is it that the Wild N Out girls do that you wouldn't want your daughter to do? (audience cheers and laughs) - I Plead the fifth! - Exactly! (upbeat hip hop music) As found on Youtube Read the full article

#atlanta #B.Simone #bestof #bestofpleadthefifth #BigBaby #breakfastclub #charlamagnethagod #CharlieClips #compilation #DarrenBrand #DCYoungFly #DJEnvy #IggyAzalea #Joseline #JustinaValentine #love&hiphop #Ludacris #MattRife #nickcannon #nickcannonwild'nout #pleadthefifth #pleadthefifthwild'nout #rapbattle #rayj #remyma #Shaq #StevieJ #supercut #T.I. #TI