#and friends take me about three weeks too

[queervegancryptid]

I'll never forget working at Walmart and going through orientation where they showed us this video literally encouraging us to snitch on anybody who might be in favor of unionizing.

They were all like, "Unions get in between you and management." And I had to smile and nod, because I needed the job, but all the while, I'm thinking, "Yeah, thanks for explaining what a union is for!" Unions correct a power imbalance between the individual worker and management by leveraging collective action. They're literally supposed to get between you and management to protect your interests and give you recourse in the case of employers violating your rights or otherwise mistreating you.

We met the GM directly after seeing that video. A calculated move on their part, I'm sure. He went out of his way to make himself seem like a "regular guy," just another Good Old Boy, and of course they trotted out the "we're a family here," bullshit.

They'll also do literally anything they can to avoid paying you what you're worth. One day, I accidentally clocked out about an hour late. This put me at something like 40.27 hours for the week. Next thing I know, management is furious with me. Despite only one other person being on the schedule for the shift, they forced me to take a three-hour lunch break to bring my hourly count back safely under the 40-hour threshold. Because otherwise they'd have to give me overtime and benefits.

They didn't fire me. But after that, my total hours for the week never went above 25. They also hired a new person in my department and gave her about 20-25 hours a week. The reason was transparent: better for their bottom line to have two people working 20-25 hours a week than one person who works 40-50 hours a week. I ended up quitting not too long after this. But that's another story.

And all the while, I'm hearing all over the news that "millennials don't want to work." Here I was, begging for more hours or to be trained as a cashier so I could pick up more hours doing shifts on that, and all over the news, people are screaming about how entitled people like me are and how we don't know how to do things and don't want to actually earn a living.

But yeah, the boss is not your friend. You can and should have a cordial and respectful relationship with your boss and coworkers, but they pull the "family," thing for a reason. It's designed to guilt you. Plenty of actual families do this, too: "we're family, so you have to love me, and you have to do/give me x." It's a way to get away with bad behavior, sometimes including outright exploitation and abuse. Don't fall for it.

An incomplete list of things that employers commonly threaten that are 100% illegal in the United States

"We'll fire you if you tell others how much you're making" The National Labor Relations Act of 1935 specifically protects employees who discuss their own wages with each other (you can't reveal someone else's wages if you were given that information in the course of work, but you can always discuss your own or any that were revealed to you outside of work duties)

"If we can't fire you for [discussing wages/seeking reasonable accommodation/filing a discrimination complaint/etc], we'll just fire you for something else the next day." This is called pretextual termination, and it offers your employer almost no protection; if you are terminated shortly after taking a protected action such as wage discussion, complaints to regulatory agencies, or seeking a reasonable accommodation, you can force the burden onto your employer to prove that the termination wasn't retaliatory.

"Disparaging the company on social media is grounds for termination" Your right to discuss workplace conditions, compensation, and collective action carries over to online spaces, even public ones. If your employer says you aren't allowed to disparage the company online or discuss it at all, their social media policy is illegal. However, they can forbid releasing information that they're obligated to keep confidential such as personnel records, business plans, and customer information, so exercise care.

"If you unionize, we'll just shut this branch down and lay everyone off" Threatening to take action against a group that unionizes is illegal, full stop. If a company were to actually shut down a branch for unionizing, they would be fined very heavily by the NLRB and be opening themselves up to a class-action lawsuit by the former employees.

"We can have any rule we want, it's only illegal if we actually enforce it" Any workplace policy or rule that has a "chilling effect" on employees' willingness to exercise their rights is illegal, even if the employer never follows through on any of their threats.

"If you [protected action], we'll make sure you never work in this industry/city/etc again." Blacklisting of any kind is illegal in half the states in the US, and deliberately sabotaging someone's job search in retaliation for a protected action is illegal everywhere in the US.

"Step out of line and you can kiss your retirement fund/last paycheck goodbye." Your employer can never refuse to give you your paycheck, even if you've been fired. Nor can they keep money that you invested in a retirement savings account, and they can only claw back the money they invested in the retirement account under very specific circumstances.

"We'll deny that you ever worked here" not actually possible unless they haven't been paying their share of employment taxes or forwarding your withheld tax to the government (in which case they're guilty of far more serious crimes, and you might stand to gain something by turning them in to the IRS.) The records of your employment exist in state and federal tax data, and short of a heist that would put Oceans 11 to shame, there's nothing they can do about that.

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae!!

Could I request like a really cute Remus x reader where she’s never been kissed or anything before? Like they’re all out of Hogwarts or in their last year and she’s the only one to have never had a relationship, and she’s kinda insecure and anxious about it all?

No worries if not or if you’ve already done something like this!

Thank you! - x

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: alcohol, reader is a bit tipsy

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You don’t often feel self-conscious about your lack of romance. When you’re walking home from a bar on a cold night, it’s true that sometimes you wish you had a hand to hold, or a jacket that wasn’t your own, or somebody to slip an arm around your waist and make sure you keep your footing, but generally you’d rather wait than settle. When your friends start moaning and groaning about being lovelorn, though…

“It’s just been so long,” Sirius laments. He’s three sheets to the wind and hanging heavily from James’ side, who’s nodding commiseratingly as they wind a zig-zagging course down the sidewalk. “I mean, two months, James. Two months.” 

“It’s been nearly two weeks for me,” James says glumly. “I don’t know how much more I can take.” 

“Lily will be back from her holiday in three days,” Remus reminds him. He can hold his alcohol better than any of you, and thusly he’s been tasked with carrying the things everyone worried they’d lose. The keys to your apartment are somewhere in his pocket, along with James’ wallet--confiscated after James left it lying on the bar for the second time--and a collection of Sirius’ rings which keeps growing each time Sirius becomes distressed about them somehow falling off. 

“Yeah.” Sirius looks up at James, glaring. “You’re only two weeks in, and you’ve got a lifetime of kisses ahead of you. I’ve got to take them where I can get them, ‘nd I haven’t had even one in two months!” 

“If you think two months is bad,” you say, “try going your whole life.” 

You mean for it to come out light and quippy, but there’s a vulnerability lining your words that you don’t mean to reveal. You wince, thinking everyone’s heard it. 

“Well,” Sirius says after a brief silence, “yes, that does sound worse. Thank you, dollface. You’ve made me feel a bit better.” 

You smile ruefully. “Happy to help.” 

James starts waxing poetic about the shape of Lily’s top lip, and Remus slows his stride, falling into step beside you. You glance over, and he’s giving you a soft look. 

You go sheepish. “Sorry.” 

“What? Why are you sorry?” 

“That was embarrassing.” James and Sirius are talking loudly enough that you don’t have to lower your voice much to avoid being overheard. “I don’t mean to complain.” 

“It wasn’t embarrassing,” Remus murmurs, voice a fond color. He bumps your shoulder gently. “Anyway, I don’t think either of them are likely to remember.” 

You give him a sideways smile. “Maybe, but there’s still you.” 

“I can forget, too, if it suits you.” 

“It does suit me, thanks.” 

“Right. I’ll get right on that, then. Consider it forgotten.” 

You smile down at the sidewalk. There’s something about Remus which always relaxes you. Maybe it’s that he’s so easy to talk to, or that he doesn’t make you feel like you have to talk. You just feel safe with him. You walk a ways in comfortable silence, close but not quite touching, listening to Sirius and James giggle like schoolchildren ahead of you. 

“Do you really feel that way?” Remus asks after a while. “Like it’s bad that you haven’t kissed anyone?” 

You wet your lips. Your saliva tastes like booze. “Sometimes,” you admit. “Like, it’s not as bad for me as it seems for Sirius. But I guess it also probably helps that I don’t know what I’m missing.” 

“Yeah,” he hums, seeming pensive. “That makes sense.” 

“I do wish I’d gotten it over with earlier, though.” 

You’re not sure where it comes from. You do wish that, sometimes, but it’s not the sort of thing you say aloud. Even with a friend as good as Remus, it’s humiliating to declare a want so intimate. 

He looks surprised. “You do?” 

“Yeah,” you say, voice a shade of itself. 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“It wasn’t…it wasn’t really a choice. I was never trying to wait, or anything.” You shrug, cheeks warm. “There was just never an opportunity.” 

Remus makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe that.” 

You look up. “Why not?” 

With your attention off the sidewalk, you stumble slightly, the toe of your shoe catching on the uneven pavement. Remus slips an arm around your waist to help. 

“Careful,” he says, suddenly incomprehensibly close to you. “Watch your footing.” 

“Sorry.” You look back down. “Why not?” you ask again, softly. 

“I just don’t think it’s possible no one ever tried to kiss you.” Remus’ voice is quiet but genuine. Unabashed. “More likely people have tried and you haven’t noticed. Or you just haven’t been ready. That’s alright too, you know.” 

“I’m ready,” you say certainly. “I’ve been ready. It just…hasn’t happened yet.” 

He hums. “That’s alright. So long as you’re alright with it.” 

You’re quiet the rest of the way home. You live in the same building as the boys, only the floor below. James’ bedroom is right above yours. He’s not usually too terrible an upstairs neighbor, though you’re looking forward to hearing him stumbling around before bed tonight. 

Remus walks you to your door while James and Sirius wait in the stairwell, cackling and crawling their way up on their hands and knees. He unlocks your door and reaches inside to turn on the hall light. 

“Alright?” he asks as you step inside. 

You nod. 

“Okay. Drink water, and make sure to lock the door behind you.” He gives you a smile, eyes dark in the dim light of your building. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight,” you say back. But he hardly makes it a few steps away before you’re leaning out of the door, suddenly desperate. “Remus?” 

“Yeah?” He turns. And he’s so lovely, all softness and gentle features. You know he’s the right person to trust with this. 

You swallow. “I’ve been ready for a long time. And I don’t…I don’t know if I’m alright with it anymore.” 

Remus frowns, stepping closer. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I just feel so behind.” Your tone is nearly pleading. “I’m tired of not knowing what I’m missing. I’m curious. I want to know what it’s like.” 

“Y/n.” Remus says your name like a remonstrance gentled. Like he feels sorry for you. “What are you asking me?” 

You worry your hands are shaking, but you steady yourself against the doorframe, making your voice solid. “I’d rather it be with someone I’m comfortable with. Someone I trust.” 

Remus moves closer to you. He’s nearly as close as before, when he’d held you up on the sidewalk. You wonder if this is how close people get before it happens. 

“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, not unkindly. 

You shake your head. “Not that drunk. Not so much I don’t know what I want.” 

He sighs. Says your name again as though to himself, with fondness and something else you can’t place. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” you say in a whisper. “I’d just feel a lot better if it was you.” 

“Oh, love.” He takes your face gently in his hands. The pads of his thumbs soothe over your cheeks. “That’s not it.” 

Your breath catches as Remus starts to lean towards you, your eyes fluttering closed. You stay perfectly still as his lips come to rest in the center of your forehead. 

It’s a tender kiss, not lingering but not overly brief. In the end, it’s so sweet you can’t even bring yourself to feel slighted. 

“Go to bed,” says Remus, pulling back with a sorry smile. “If you still want to talk about it in the morning, we will, yeah? It’s not that I don’t want to.” 

“Okay. I’ll…” Your whole face tingles as though you really have been kissed. You’re half tempted to touch your lips to see if they feel different. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m sorry, Remus.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, backing down the hallway, “please. Goodnight, y/n.” 

Your voice comes out a tad breathless. “Goodnight.”

[furioussheepluminary]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐈𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬

Pairing: dad!chris x teacher!afab!reader, friends to lovers, nonidol!au

Synopsis: Go ahead and cry, little girl, Nobody does it like you do, I know how much it matters to you, I know that you got daddy issues, And if you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do, I'd run away and hide with you

Warnings: domestic fluff, angst, tears and all, references to the neighborhood, ft. 2racha, lemme know if I've missed something

A/n: the neighborhood. They did this to me. Reader isn't going to be mentioned on the story a lot...well at least in this first chapter. I swear I got carried away with this I didn't mean for it to be this long 😔 it wasn't even meant to be a chapter like story...

She wasn’t his. A constant reminder that knocked at the back of his mind.

Chris wasn’t the kind of man to complain over every small detail. Life had handed him its fair share of punches, and he’d taken his fair share without even flinching or losing the warmth in his heart. Anyone who saw him on the outside would think of him as the one that had everything good happening to him. But on the inside, the scars remained- ugly and tender. Before it all turned grey, he was actually living the life. A newlywed with a beautiful baby three months in the making. Victoria, his now ex-wife was an extravagant person and Chris knew that but she still had other loveable qualities which he doted on. Come five years down the line, and the secrets began to come to light.

Victoria had always wanted more. More money, more status, more luxury. She knew Chris had all of that so she just decided to play along with his domestic loveable fantasies. And Chris had known this about her from the start, but he had convinced himself that love would be enough. That their little circle-just him, Victoria, and their now four-year-old daughter, Mia-would be enough.

He was wrong.

It started with the late nights out, business dinners and events with people whose names Chris never recognized. Which Chris saw as karma for constantly keeping his late nights at work too but she always came back with excuses that didn’t really add up but then again, he pushed it aside, to exhausted from his own work and raising Mia to argue. Then it was her appearance. Disheveled hair, messed up make up, hickeys? Sure, he’s been lacking in being the romantic husband but he didn’t remember giving her any of those.

“Can we talk, baby?” he had tried to ask her one evening, when he put Mia to bed. They were in their shared bedroom which was beginning to feel lonelier by the week. Victoria sat at her vanity, in pristine white doing her night routine. “About?” she responded flatly.

“U-us,” he takes off his shirt and folds it neatly. “Am I not making you feel good anymore?” she paused, looked at him through the mirror and chuckled “What’s making you say that, Chris?”

“You’ve got marks. And I haven’t given you any…”

She applied cream under her eyes. “isn’t that supposed to make you feel bad?” he gave a tight-lipped expression “Baby,” he walked over to her. “I-I know I haven’t been as romantic as I was before and that’s on me. But it’s making me feel uncomfortable that I’m seeing this and that it wasn’t me who- “

Victoria sighed, setting down the jar of cream with an exasperated clink. She turned in her chair, crossing her legs as she reagree Chris with an almost amused expression.

“You’re being dramatic,” she said cooly. “It’s just a few marks. Why does it matter where they came from?” Chris felt his stomach twist. “Because I love you. because I-”

“Love isn’t enough, Chris,” she interrupted, her tone sharp. “You think just because you get to come home every night and kiss Mia goodnight it’ll make me so obsessed with you that I’d forget my own needs?” his brows furrowed as he plopped himself on the edge of the bed. “I-I don’t understand…” Victoria rolled her eyes. “It’s not just about her, Chris. I have needs too. I need just as much excitement and love as Mia gets. I need passion, I need to be with someone who treats me like I deserve to be loved not like another chore at the end of the day.” Chris felt something crack inside his chest. “A chore?” He echoed, voice above a whisper. Isn’t that what she made him feel like? Barely giving him any breathing space with all the ‘don’t forget to pick these up at the store’, or ‘I can’t make it blah blah blah I have an appointment’ and all the other useless excuses he carried on his shoulder.

“And Mia? What does she need. What does she deserve?”

“Don’t start that. She deserves stability. You work all the time too and I’ve told you timelessly that you can’t be keeping your late schedule when we have her to think about. Look, the difference between us is just that I’ve found a way to make it work for me. To balance you and my…real needs.”

Realization dawned like a cold slap to the face. “There’s someone else.” She didn’t deny it. Didn’t. Even. Flinch. Victora turned back to the mirror, picking up her cream again as if the conversation had already ended in her mind. “You don’t have to worry about me, baby. I can take care of myself and leave. We’ll file for divorce. And I’ll take Mia.” He couldn’t even understand her anymore. She just wants to leave? She’s not going to hear his side of the story? Taking his baby girl?! His eyes shot up. “Like hell you will.” Chris rarely raised his voice at her before, but that night, the betrayal shattered something inside him. “So that’s it? You’re walking away from your family for a supposedly bigger paycheck?”

Her eyes still focused on her reflection she spoke, “This is a blessing in disguise, Chris. Take it or leave it.”

And that was when the real war began.

The woman had connections, the bitch. Lawyers who knew how to twist the narrative. Chris worked long hours making him ‘too busy’ to be a full-time parent. He didn’t come from money making him ‘unstable’ compared to Victoria’s new fiancé- a wealthy, well-respected businessman. The court never even asked who Mia wanted to stay with. Despite everything Chris fought. Hard. But the corrupt system wasn’t built to favor fathers like him. In the saddening end, Victoria was granted full custody. He was left with weekends and whatever stolen moments he could manage. Innocent Mia had sobbed in his arms the first time she had to leave. Chris had nearly broken down right there with her. She couldn’t understand it all but what she did know was that being with her father was never enough. He was so close yet so far away.

At the time Chris didn’t have a lot of people to lean on, but if there were two people who saw everything from the beginning, it was Changbin and Jisung. They saw it all. They were the ones who stayed- when everyone whispered about how he should’ve seen it coming or how maybe he just wasn’t enough. Changbin was the first to throw a punch when some asshole had the nerve to call Chris pathetic for loving someone who was visibly used him. Jisung had been the one to show up at his doorstep at 3 A.M., with food, refusing to leave until Chris had at least eaten something. Now, they were the ones who made sure Mia had people who truly adored her and treated her like family, even when her mother made her feel like a second thought.

-

The school bell echoed through the courtyard, signaling freedom for dozens of gleeful kids. Chris leaned against his car, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on her- Mia, sprinting towards him with wild abandon, her backpack bouncing on her shoulders.

“Daddy!” She screamed, her face lighting like the sun. Chris opened his arms just in time for her to crash into him. He lifted her off the ground spinning her around as pure joy surged through him.

Mia’s eyes sparkled as she hugged him tight. “Can we get ice cream before dinner tonight?” he chuckled. “Ice cream before dinner? That sounds like trouble, baby.” “Please?” she begged, tilting her head in that way that always melted him. He sighed dramatically. “Anything for my babygirl.”

Chris’ apartment wasn’t grand. Well not as grand as the one he used to have with his ex-wife. But it was warm. Lived-in. The type of place where every corner held memories- some old some new, most centered around Mia, of course. Mia’s drawings were taped to the fridge, stick figures holding hands with big smiles and a sun in the constant corner that shone too brightly. Tiny pink socks and stuffed animals littered the couch, evidence of the weekend play sessions that always ended with Mia curled up against his side, fighting sleep just to stay up a little longer with him.

When she was with him, Chris was dad in every sense of the word. He cooked her meals even when they turned out slightly burnt, he helped her with homework (which explaining to her sometimes confused him in the process). When it came to bedtime stories, he helped her pick them out and carried her to the bed when she fell asleep mid-play. Some Saturdays he would take her to the studio and sometimes it was unavoidable. Mia was always curious about her dad’s job. Plus, she vaguely remembers that she used to see him working with different genres of people when she was younger, back when she had more than weekends with him.

So, after stopping for her favorite snack on a Saturday morning, they arrived at the studio. When they walked in, Mia’s eyes widened as she took everything in. tiny sparks of color filled the faint memories of this place in her mind. The soundproof walls, the scattered yet arranged equipment, the glowing computer screens displaying colorful waveforms. “Woah…” She bounced forward, her tiny hands gripping her bunny in its ears. Chris smiled watching her.

“Cool, yeah?” Chris ruffled before guiding her to the main recording room. “Come on, I’ll show you where the chaos happens.” Before they could go any further, a familiar voice called out.

“Yaa! Is that my favorite troublemaker?!” Mia’s face lit up instantly as Changbin appeared from one of the side rooms, arms spread wide. “Uncle Binnie!” she squealed, running to him without hesitation. Chris barely had time before she leapt into Changbin’s arms, giggling as he spun her around. “Look at you, getting so big! What happened to tiny Mia I used to know?”

“I’m still tiny,” she giggled. “I dunno…you’re almost as big as your dad now,” He teased, shooting the other man a smirk. Chris rolled his eyes. “Funny.” They got in to the studio together. Chris dropped Mia’s backpack on the couch at the end of the room, as Changbin sat her on his lap.

“Where’s J. One?” he asked. As if on cue the door opened with Jisung walking in, coffee in hand. His eyes darted straight to the tiny person on Changbin’s lap, playfully blinking in disbelief. “No way. Is that my Mia?”

Mia gasped. “Uncle ‘Sung!” she wriggled out of the other’s arms and ran straight for Jisung who caught her one-handed with ease, throwing her into his arms. “Daang, I haven’t seen you in forever!” he said dramatically, pretending to stagger under her weight. “You sure you’re not twenty now?” she squeaked, hitting his shoulder “I’m six!”

“Six? No way. You’re lying,” he teased dropping her.

Chris shook his head, watching as they fell into playful banter. Mia looked genuinely happy, completely forgetting about everything else. And it made Chris forget about everything to for a while. At least on most Saturdays.

-

Sundays were the worst. For both of them. Sunday nights felt like losing her all over again. Chris never liked to bring up Victoria unless Mia did first. He knew better than to talk shit about her mother in front of her, no matter how much resentment he held. She was too young to understand the full extent of what happened, and he didn’t want her carrying the weight of their broken marriage. But sometimes, she asked questions. And those were the hard moments.

After dinner one Sunday, with Mia’s bags packed and toys arranged, Chris was brushing her hair. She sat on the couch, the bunny clutched to her chest. She had been quiet. They were always strangely quiet on Sunday nights. He didn’t push, but Mia always spoke when she was ready. Mr. Bean played softly on the TV in the background when she finally spoke.

“Do you like Mr. Dlyan?”. He froze, his hands pausing mid-stroke. That was the name of Victoria’s new husband. The one that seemed to have wider pockets according to her. He forced himself to keep his voice light. “Why do you ask, baby?”

Mia shrugged, kicking her feet. “Mommy says he’s nice. And that he takes good care of us.” “He’s mommy’s new husband, but you know that already.” He said carefully. “Do you like him?” she hesitated, her tiny fingers fiddling with the edge of her animal’s ear. “He buys me lots of toys,” she admitted. “And he says I can call him Dad if I want to.” His grip on the brush tightened. He took a slow breath, forcing down the lump in his throat.

“And do you want to?”

She looked up at him then, big, honest eyes searching his face. “No.”

Relief washed over him so quickly it made him feel guilty. He cleared his throat and set the brush down, gently pulling her into his lap. “Mia, listen to me,” he said softly. “You can call him whatever makes you comfortable. But just because mommy married someone else doesn’t make me any less of a father. Especially your father. That will never change. Okay?”

Mia nodded, gripping his shirt. “I don’t want him to be my dad. I already have one.” He smiled pressing a kiss to her head. “That’s right, baby. You do.” She snuggled closer. “But mommy says I should be happy with him. That its better this way.”

Chris shut his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his emotions before they could break through. He hated the idea of Mia feeling pressured, of her thinking she had to accept this new man as a father figure just to keep the peace. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Mia,” he murmured. “You’re allowed to feel how you feel.”

She turned back to the tv. “But I want to be with you.” Chris held her a little tighter, kissing her forehead like he always did when the words I love you weren’t enough.

“Me too, baby. Me too.”

The sky was painted in muted hues of blue and orange, the sun seemed reluctant to set as Chris’s car idled in front of his ex-wife’s pristine suburban house. Mia sat in the backseat, silent, her small fingers anxiously twisting the strap of her backpack. Chris stole a glance at her through the rearview mirror, his chest tightening at the sight of her downcast face.

“We’re here, sweetheart,” he said softly, hating the weight of those words. Mia didn’t move. Her lips wobbled, and tears threatened to spill over her long lashes. Chris unbuckled his seatbelt and turned in his seat, reaching for her hand. “Hey,” he whispered, “It’s okay.” “It’s not okay,” she sniffled, her voice breaking. “I hate going back. Mommy doesn’t even talk to me ask, Daddy. She’s always busy with her friends and her phone! Its better being with you daddy! I don’t wanna go back!”

“I know it’s hard,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. “But you’ll be back with me on Friday. We'll do anything you want, yeah? Just you and me.” She tried to smile, but crumbled into tears. He couldn’t take it anymore. He unbuckled her seatbelt and pulled her into his arms, letting her cry against his shoulder. “It’s okay to cry, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thick. “But I promise- Daddy always comes back for you.” her fingers clutched his jacket like a lifeline. “I love you, Daddy.” She choked out.

“I love you too, Mia. So much.”

That was the loop. The constant loop that went on and on. Chris was so tired of it all.

Till you came in.

Gawddd I swear I didn't want it to be this long...this was prolly just like an intro ig...I don't know 😭

Taglist:

@pessimisticloather @pixie-felix

You can check my pinned post to join my taglist!

~kc💗

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P52 | not alone

The steady beepings of the heart monitor suddenly stuttered, and Woojin's eyes snapped to your lying figure. He didn't know how to describe his emotions as eloquently as he wanted to, so he could accurately convey how he felt during that split second—but he had felt so hopeful all the while so horrified, the horror so overwhelming that he almost drowned under the currents.

Those heart stutters made him think that you were gonna wake up, but at the same time what if your heart was stuttering because it was starting to give up?

You had been sleeping for far too long, and he was starting to get antsy as the time stretched further and further.

He wished Geonwoo could arrive faster, since he decided he was going to pick up your dad from your hometown.

It had been more than a month since you've been in a coma, but it had also been more than a month since they completely abandoned you. The first few days of your comatose state was like a stench that lingered around—literally. 

Yuno absolutely refused to leave your side for three days straight, even eating at your bedside so he could monitor you closely. He didn't bathe for three days straight too, until your father had to put his foot down. Yuno was ruining himself, and he was hellbent to sink deeper all because he felt like that was an adequate punishment to impose on himself. Punishment for abandoning you.

Everyone remembered the doctor complaining that his lack of hygiene could put you at risk, and it almost made Woojin let out a humorless huff after hearing it. In truth, everyone was getting sick of the stench. Your dad shoved a duffel bag into your older brother's arms and demanded that he cleaned himself up.

Even then, Yuno had only taken a shower in your private bathroom. He stayed by your side for a week straight until everyone finally managed to persuade him into holding a meeting with his agency to discuss the halt in his official debut, an excuse so he could finally go outside for a change. 

However, everyone else was only less obsessive than he was by a slight margin.

Geonwoo, Soyeon, and Woojin visited everyday. They'd arrive during the earliest visiting hours and would leave the last. Your college friends—Aeri, Xiaojun, and Yangyang—visited you everyday too, for the first few weeks at least. Now that their finals was approaching, the visits became sparse, begrudgingly so because their lecturers weren't willing to compromise.

Then Mark—Mark was so ridden with guilt he didn't visit you at all. He even limited his communication too, scarcely responding to their check-up messages. 

When his friends came over to visit you four days ago, of course Geonwoo and Woojin asked about him. They said he was dealing with it too badly, it was starting to affect his grades. When the lecturers persuaded him into taking a semester off to properly process the tragedy, he suddenly got all fired up to fix his grades that all he would ever focus on now was his studies. A mere distraction, to ignore his guilt at the moment.

Yuno's heart broke hearing how Mark was faring.

Woojin received a text that Geonwoo was finally heading towards the hospital and sighed in relief—until the beeping stuttered again. And again. 

He stood up abruptly, phone dropped to the tiled floor and chair falling back, all because he finally noticed your eyes were actually open and looking directly at him. He pressed on the button above your headboard, sending a signal to call over your doctor.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me? C—Can you see me?” He asked with a choked up voice, tears starting to well up in his eyes at the overwhelming emotions of witnessing you finally waking up after a month of slumber, all the while feeling so worried that your head injury might have really crippled your senses.

Your mouth moved, your voice harsh and gravelly, but it was also muffled, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. Your hand moved to take off your oxygen mask weakly, and he finally noticed how the skin of your forearms was sticking to your bones. He helped you take off the mask and pushed his face closer to yours, straining his ears to hear what you were trying to say.

“I—held on—I held on good, right?”

Your doctor and her nurses bursted in, pushing Woojin out of the room to tend you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mark was obsessively scribbling notes, noise cancelling headphones plugged in and on high volume as a way to help him focus on his studying session. Focusing on his studies obsessively was numbing the pain, inside his head were all musical theories and music history bouncing off of each other. No headspace left to replay the memory of him calling you a coward disdainfully at the stairwa—

He paused in his writing and went to his phone to pick a more high energy punk rock song that'll tune everything out in his head. His notification bar was barren, since he blocked all of his social media notifications so it wouldn't distract him from studying, especially when it's doing a swell job in distracting him from you and how much he had wronged you—

Actually, he blocked those notifications so he didn't have to read his friends trying to reach out to him. Whether it was Haechan or Jaehyun, he didn't want them to bother him.

A hand ripped away the headphones from his head, startling the poor college student so much he let out a pathetic yelp in his shock and accidentally pushed his coffee off the table. Thank god it didn't end up on his borrowed textbooks, but it could've, and he could imagine the fines he would've had to pay to the university’s library for that. Feeling his hackles rise almost instantly, he stood up to face his attacker but went speechless when the face he was looking at was Yuno’s.

“Did you even turn off your iMessage notifications, Mark? Seriously?” Yuno scoffed, placing the headphones on the café table so he could cross his arms.

Onlookers began to whisper at the scene, barely recognising national darling Jaehyun because of how unkempt he looked. Black roots all overgrown over the bleach blond hair, face gaunt and over pronounced dark circles under his eyes marring his handsome face. His skin was starting to turn sallow too, for how rarely he's been away from the sun, from how rarely he's been outside these days.

Feeling their eyes all on them, especially on Yuno, Mark started to worry over the public's perception on Yuno. He can imagine the online forums talking about this, a new Pannchoa headline already in the making. Mark pulled on Yuno's hand, asking him to sit.

“Dude, there's no need for this. Just sit down and we'll talk—”

“Y/N just woke up. You and I need to go to the hospital right now, Minhyung. I won't let you completely destroy your relationship with her just because of your guilt.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yangyang was in the middle of having a serious talk with Prof. Suh regarding his late submission. The lecturer was exasperated that his two little friends were also inside his office, trying to defend his case. Johnny rubbed on his temples, feeling his frustrations grow bigger by the second until Xiaojun's phone rang.

The professor raised an eyebrow when Xiaojun didn't even bother to step outside his office first to take the call, but as his student's face fell so dramatically, his anger came to a halt out of worry. When the call was finally dropped, Xiaojun turned to look at his friends’ faces, hands dropped to the side and trembling uncontrollably.

“She-She woke up. Y/N finally woke up.”

When Yangyang took off, so did the rest of his two friends. As Johnny broke out of the shock of hearing the news, he quickly exited his office, only to stand right outside his doorway because he realised he couldn't possibly catch up to the younger college students running down the hall at breakneck speed.

He sighed, feeling his chest deflate. He couldn't find it in himself to put it against them at all. They were so close to you, it's not that surprising to see how it rocked their world to find out you had been a victim of a brutal attack, with injuries so severe it had put you into a coma.

Thank god you pulled through.

“I'll forgive the late submission just this time, Liu! Give Y/N my regards!”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The first to arrive at the hospital while you were still being examined by the doctor was, disappointingly so, the detectives. They were unwelcomed mainly because Geonwoo and Woojin held a grudge against Detective Do and his past partner, believing it was partly their fault you were put into a coma. Because the grudge Yoonsu held against you was the result of him finding out you had worked with the detectives to take him down. Because you had betrayed him to give these detectives a leg up in their investigation.

Woojin's face tightened as got closer, but then realised they brought over another policeman with them. From the looks of the uniform the third policeman was wearing, he was probably a high ranking one. Kim Junmyeon was what was written on his nametag.

“How did you receive the news so quickly? Is it because the doctor is obviously a friend to you?” Woojin scoffed.

“Actually, Dr. Kim is close to me. She's my older sister.” Junmyeon spoke out, giving Woojin an easy smile.

“And who are you? What right do you have to be here even if your sister is treating Y/N?” Woojin asked sharply, but Junmyeon's smile still remained, not at all bothered despite the unfriendly hostile behaviour.

“Watch your tone. He's the current commissioner of Gangnam's Police Force, and he also happens to be my old partner…the same one I worked with during our initial investigation on Cha Yoonsu. Sir, this is one half of Y/N’s foster brothers duo, Hong Woojin.” Detective Do spoke with a rather jaded tone, not even bothering to look at either man.

Junmyeon stretched out his hand, and his intentions came off as too pure and genuine for Woojin to coldly ignore the gesture, so he did the handshake begrudgingly.

“How is she?” Junymeon asked with a softer tone, knowing how important you were to Woojin.

In a split second, Woojin's face fell. After spending some time outside your room, reeling himself in from the shock and relief before notifying other people that you were finally awake—all that guilt came crashing down like a landslide. 

He was glad you were finally awake, of course he was, but now he's reminded of how he and the others hadn't been there for you up until the night Yoonsu killed himself. How all of them had failed you by abandoning you.

That guilt was earth shattering—and it always was, from the moment when the detectives explained to them just how much you suffered because of Yoonsu, and how they played into Yoonsu's plan in isolating you from your whole world, playing a part in your psychological torture.

“She woke up pretty…calmly. She smiled at me, you know? And the first thing she said to me was, ‘I held on good, right?’.”

Kyungsoo froze completely, snapping his head to look at Woojin directly before a bitter smile crept its way to his lips, a breathless scoff right after.

“Kyungsoo?” Junmyeon asked, and his subordinate started to rub on his temples.

“...it was the one thing I asked of her while we were trying to figure out how to get rid of the blackmail file. All I asked of her was to hold on, because she begged me if there was anything else she could do for the investigation.”

And suddenly Woojin could finally see that these three policemen were suffering the same kind of guilt too, how it weighed just as heavily on top of their shoulders as it did on his own. The fact that they arrived here first wasn't because they were shameless, but it was because they were putting themselves accountable for how you ended up in this hospital.

Dr. Kim Taeyeon walked out of your room with her usual team, adjusting her ponytail as she smiled at her younger brother.

“She's doing good. Her memories are intact, the head injury didn't cause any damage to any of her senses, the stab wounds are healing well—but I'm sending in a psychologist after this. She obviously needs one after all she's been through.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yuno arrived with his father, Mark, and Geonwoo. They walked into the room to see the detectives sitting by your bedside, with an extra uniformed personnel that they had never met before. Woojin was standing behind them, observing your interactions with the detectives closely.

Junmyeon turned his head to look at the door, standing up to greet the man who was obviously your older brother. Nobody else noticed it before but you and Yuno shared the same pair of eyes that Junmyeon had thought was so obvious to see.

Your father was silent as he walked up to you, standing still when he got to your bedside. He touched the side of your head, hand trembling with tears brimming in his eyes. You looked up at him, a soft smile to reassure him.

“You're awake.” He let out in a whispery voice, his hand moving to hold your face, relieved that most of your bruises were gone by now.

He didn't think anyone could handle seeing you awake and smiling while the bruises still clung to your face like some kind of messed up clown makeup that couldn't be washed off. You moved to hug your father, wrapping your arms around his waist as Yuno broke down at the scene. Mark's eyes were beginning to sting too, but he tried to hold it back as he patted Yuno's shoulder, eyes looking at you.

“It's nice to be with you again. All of you.” You spoke calmly, patting on your father's shoulder as your eyes met Mark.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

“Come on, you guys need to calm down already.” You sighed, handing your father and brother the whole tissue box you got from your bedside table. They were crying non-stop and it was starting to get on your nerves.

Everyone took some for themselves, then Mark took the box from you soundlessly and placed it back on the bedside table, careful not to push Junyoung's name tag off the surface. Commissioner Kim had given you that nametag as a sign of gratitude for retrieving the location of Junyoung's body. 

Junyoung was the guy who risked his safety to help you get out of Yoonsu's clutches—he also paid the ultimate price for it. As much as it made Mark furious and bitter that you placed yourself in a dangerous situation with a cornered rabid Yoonsu just to find out where Junyoung was buried, he understood why you were so desperate to know. Mark stared at the nametag for a long time before he noticed everyone else was looking at him.

“What?” He spoke out hesitantly, trying to avoid your gaze the most.

Geonwoo and Woojin stood up, picking up their jackets with them.

“Let's go have lunch, Mark. You're probably starving. The cafeteria serves a mean kimbap.” Geonwoo smiled at the younger man as he wiped away his tears.

“I'm jealous. The doctor told me I can only eat soft food for a few weeks so my stomach can take it easy. Getting stabbed in the stomach sucks.” You pouted, speaking rather offhandedly but quickly regretted your choice of words when everyone else in the room went dead quiet, staring at you with a haunted look behind their eyes.

Forcing you to eat rice porridge for a few weeks was better than mourning over you. You winced and began to rub on your temples at the slip up. Geonwoo and Woojin made their stiff exit out of the room with Mark in tow.

When Woojin closed the door on their way out, it was only you and your blood family left in the room now. You drew mindless circles on your blanket with your fingers, suddenly feeling tense and awkward being left alone with Yuno and your father, and them being so quiet was making you spiral even dee—

“We're sorry.” Your father suddenly said after a moment of silence, placing a hand on yours.

“What?” You spoke out dumbly, finally turning your head in their direction.

“We're sorry for abandoning you, for believing you when you lied to us. We should've known better, sweetie.”

You shook your head, slipping away from your father's hand only so you could hold it more firmly, wrapping your palms around his wrist.

“I'm the one who pushed you away first. There's nothing to apologise for.”

“But we should've been better. We should've—we should've fought harder to keep you with us, rather than push you to him.” Yuno spoke flatly from beside you, and you moved your hand to hold his.

You squeezed on it, making him choke up again. He pressed his eyelids together, another batch of tears leaking out as he felt the guilt and shame flood his senses again, understanding you were trying to soothe them.

“Stop—stop it, Y/N. You're trying to console us, but we abandoned you. We basically pushed you into that asshole’s arms—and I can't stand it. I can't stand the fact that we did nothing to protect you.” Yuno sobbed, his free hand pushing his knuckles into his eye sockets as he cried.

“Your display of guilt doesn't absolve you.” You spoke resolutely, your voice sounding hard as steel.

He dropped his hand from his face and looked at you in shock, your father stunned into silence too. Your words were harsh, and you preferred for this reunion to be softer and warmer, but it couldn't be as nice as you wanted to if everyone around you kept kicking themselves in the face in front of you.

You understood their guilt and shame, but all you wanted now was to move on from the tragedy, even if you were still bedridden from what you went through. You didn't want the people around you to ruin this chance.

“But you can make it up to me now. All I want is to move on from what happened, but I can't unless you move on from it too. Get over yourself and just be here in the moment with me, Yuno. The same thing goes for you too, dad. Please.”

You didn't cry, you didn't shake, because you've cried enough while you lived with Yoonsu. You've cried enough while taking his abuse, and you've had enough. The long nightmare was dissolved the moment Yoonsu killed himself, even as you lay in a pool of your own blood before Taeyong and Kyungsoo. It ended the moment you understood Yoonsu wasn't there to torment you anymore.

You're allowed to live however you wanted to from that point on.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Mark opted to stay out of the room when Geonwoo’s mom arrived and went inside with her son and Woojin, to let your foster family have their moment with you alongside your blood family. When Yangyang and your other friends arrived at the front door, Mark persuaded them to enter your room a bit later, to let you spend some more time with your family alone. Surprisingly enough, they agreed to it, even Yangyang himself.

Mark decided to guide them to the hospital's cafeteria since Aeri commented she was getting hungry. When they found a table to sit at, Yangyang gave them Xiaojun and Aeri his credit card, choosing to stay at the table with Mark.

“Do you want anything, Mark? My treat.” Yangyang offered, and Xiaojun didn't look opposed to getting the food for him.

Mark flashed a small smile and shook his head.

“I already ate. Thanks, though.” 

As Xiaojun and Aeri went off, it was a little awkward between Mark and Yangyang as they sat together. Yangyang and Mark never got along well, and all they had going for both of them was how much they loved you. The way they loved you, though, one was different from the other.

Yangyang simply loved you. It was as easy as breathing to him, and his love was as pure as snow.

Mark was in love with you. It was drowning him, and his love was as intense as the raging sea. 

It made his guilt all the more shameful.

“You never visited her once while she was in a coma.” Yangyang spoke suddenly, and it wasn't at all accusing—he was just stating it.

Mark's amiably awkward expression dropped. He nodded shamefully, no words coming out to excuse or defend himself.

“Why?” Yangyang asked.

It's funny how a one syllable question could break him down so easily. Mark gulped, feeling his mouth go dry, racking his brain to figure out how to word it properly. It was a long one minute before the music major gave Yangyang a proper answer.

“I called her a coward the last time we spoke…and then I found out I was the last person she spoke to before our side completely cut her off.”

“The shame must've eaten you up.”

Mark placed an elbow on the table and messed with his hair before completely leaning his face into his palm.

“...how am I supposed to face her, dude? I can't even stand facing myself every time I walk past a mirror.”

“She already forgave you.” Yangyang answered confidently from knowing you too well.

“She doesn't know I haven't visited her once while she was unconscious.”

“She'll forgive you for that too.”

“I actively avoided everybody because people kept asking me about her her.”

“She won't care and will still forgive you regardless—”

“—then I wish she wouldn't!” Mark raised his voice, slamming an open palm on the table.

Yangyang, not at all surprised by the outburst even as everyone in the cafeteria stared at them, replied to Mark without missing a beat.

“She'll tell you to get over yourself, Mark. Y/N loves you, and she put your name on the list she gave to Detective Lee. If you keep on avoiding her, you'd break her heart—and yours too. So for both of your sakes, just be there for her, dude.”

Mark hated how right he was.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yuno brought along your father and Soyeon to get the soup you wanted—which was Soyeon’s homemade seaweed soup. It was kind of a ruse of course, because you actually wanted some time alone with Geonwoo and Woojin. They were sitting on both sides of your bed, Geonwoo on your right and Woojin on your left. They smiled and talked with ease, but the haunted look behind their eyes couldn’t be hidden.

“The doctor said you'd undergo physiotherapy tomorrow, so it's good that you have a good appetite. You need all the energy you can get.” Woojin spoke softly, eyes looking anywhere but at the spot you got stabbed at.

“Are you guys angry at me?”

The smiles didn't even drop, but Geonwoo turned to look at you while Woojin flitted his eyes to the floor.

“...we're more angry at ourselves.” Woojin’s voice nearly sounded like a whisper.

“I just told my dad and brother to get over themselves, so you should do the same too.” You shrugged.

That's when their smiles dropped.

“We know that. This is us getting over ourselves—but,” Geonwoo paused for a second, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear from his side of the bed, “At least let us apologise for how we treated you. Sure, you treated us like dirt first, but you didn't mean the words you said, not like how all the things we said to you did…and it makes me sick in the stomach every time I remember them.” Geonwoo caressed his hand over your forehead to push your hair back, eyes turning red and glossy when he remembered how badly bruised your face was weeks before, how often the doctor had to visit you to check on your stab wounds.

“Just one apology from either of you is enough. I'm serious. I want to move on from this and not wallow in it.” You sighed, but then quickly grimaced when Woojin pulled your head in rather violently to plant a kiss on your temple before nuzzling his head beside yours.

Geonwoo laughed tearfully at the sight and went in to nuzzle your head too from his side of the bed. That was the moment when Woojin got to beat him to it and apologised to you on both of their behalfs.

“We're sorry for how we treated you, kid. You did well, you know that? You did really fucking well for yourself, handling that slimy bastard alone—and we owe you a thanks too. Y/N, thank you so much for being strong enough to stay alive.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When your friends walked into the room, you finally got to laugh for the first time in months as Aeri ran up to you, practically jumping on the bed to embrace you. You laughed into her hair as you patted her back.

“Thank God. Thank God.” Aeri whispered hoarsely, threatening to rip the clothes on your back from how tightly she was gripping on it.

“I've missed you, Aeri. All of you.” You spoke softly, pulling away from the hug.

“We brought your favorites—chocolate cosmos.” Xiaojun smiled brightly even as the unshed tears glossed over his eyes, pointing at the bouquet he was holding.

You nodded your head in gratitude and allowed him to place the bouquet on your bedside table. As Aeri got comfortable lying beside you, arms wrapped all around your body mostly to assure herself this wasn't a dream, you beamed a smile at Yangyang who was already walking over to take a seat beside the bed. He stared at you with unreadable eyes before dropping his head, heaving out a deep sigh.

“...I fucking hate you, you know that?” He spoke in an exhausted voice as he raised his head, and you noticed the eyebags marring his face.

You chuckled, reaffirming yourself that it was the wisest decision to let everyone else leave the room for this reunion with your friends. Yuno would've been shocked hearing what Yangyang just said.

“Of course I know that. You ignored me the last time we saw each other, remember?” You quipped out sarcastically.

“Yeah, and I hate myself for it, but glad to see you remembering it so fondly while I was losing sleep over it.”

“Oh, I can tell you were losing sleep, Yangs. It's a good thing those eyebags look chic on you.”

“These eyebags happened because he studied day and night for the finals, Y/N.” Xiaojun piped up, an actual genuine smile on his face.

You gasped, actually and genuinely surprised at the revelation that Yangyang had studied.

“Well, guess the effort's going to waste then because I'm not answering the exams.”

You immediately scrunched your brows and snapped your head to look at him. What did he mean by that? You knew for sure Xiaojun wasn't lying when he said Yangyang was studying—putting actual effort into his grades for the first time—and he was just throwing it all away. You waited for Xiaojun to reprimand him, for Aeri to scoff, but weirdly enough both of them were quiet.

You looked at all three of them and gasped.

“No fucking way—”

“We already decided, okay!” Aeri exclaimed, hugging your waist tight.

“The uni makes you repeat the semester if you get below C—what do you mean you're not answering the finals!” You hissed, pushing her head away from nuzzling your chest.

“Well, obviously so we could repeat the semester with you.” Xiaojun answered like it was the most obvious thing, and you dropped your jaw.

Yeah, you knew you were going to repeat the semester because you understood how ruthless your university can be—but why were these three willingly failing their papers by being absent on examination day?

“Guys—”

“Stop arguing about it, dumbass. This is our final decision. Nothing you say will change our minds.” Yangyang sighed again, crossing his arms.

You blinked at him before finally deflating, feeling warm all over your body from the knowledge that your friends were deciding to repeat a semester alongside you, for you, and you couldn't help but tear up a little. Xiaojun grinned and gave you the box of tissue that was on top of your bedside bed, and you took it gladly.

“I hate you guys.” You sniffled.

And for the first time in a month, Yangyang laughed. Obnoxiously loud, flashing all of his pearly whites—for the first time in a month, Yangyang was truly glad and relieved and happy. Aeri rubbed her hand up and down your back, crying also but the smile on her lips matched Yangyang’s and Xiaojun’s. Feeling like this could be a core memory in her life.

Xiaojun took a seat across Yangyang, petting your head, “We never want to leave you alone again.”

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It's been a week since you woke up. Everyone gradually snapped out of their dreamlike states—you were awake, alive and yourself. That was the reality, but they had to make sure to pinch themselves in case this was a dream they were experiencing. Nothing more than a hallucination created by their brains as the sleep.

But no. You were actually awake now. Their Jeong Y/N, the one they always knew—awake and alive and theirs.

However, you have sparsely spoken to Mark. It was bothering you. Sure, he was there on the day you woke up, but after that you didn't really see him around anymore. And even if he was around for a visit, you wouldn't even notice him until much later since he was so...quiet. Shrinking himself into the background, like he wanted you to not notice him.

On the 4th day since you woke up, you finally found out why.

Aeri was wheeling you to your room, and you had only pulled the door apart by only a sliver when you heard the argument, and kept the door that way. Aeri froze in her steps too, hearing Yuno raisinig his voice.

"How long are you going to keep being like this, Mark? Y/N's been asking me about you—she's noticed that you're trying to avoid her."

"What do you mean avoiding her? I'm here, aren't I—"

"Don't play dumb with me! She's already noticed Mark. You're blending yourself into the background, you're quiet around her, and you've never spoken to her directly ever since she woke up. When are you going to realise nobody hates you for what you did—"

"—BUT I DO!"

Aeri sucked in a breath while you felt your eyes stinging.

You always suspected so.

"I fucking hate myself for it, okay! The last time I spoke to her, I called her a coward. I haven't visited her once while she was unconscious. You had to track me down because I was avoiding everybody just to stop thinking about her—I fucked up big, Jae, and I can't forgive myself for it, even if Y/N already did. Every time I visit and see her, I just—I see a girl who's way too gracious with somebody like me. She's just so selfless, I finally understood just how fucking selfish I am compared to her. I love her too much to let myself off...I can't, Jae..."

Aeri quickly pulled you back for at least 15 feet away from the door, surprising you because she had been so fast with it too, but you understood why she did it. When Mark exited your room and slammed the door close, he didn't even notice you. You watched as he walked down the hallway, feeling your heart break for him.

You always suspected so.

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a/n : LMAOOOO so there's another chapter incoming for tomorrow. also, i just wanna say thank you guys so much for being patient with me for this story. i actually lost count on how many times i went on hiatuses without informing you guys first and im actually rlly ashamed of it...but the way you guys always tried to reach out to me kept me going <3 thank you so much, i apologise, and again, just thank you.

taglist <333

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[little-diable]

Nothin’ slowin’ us down - Carlisle Cullen (smut)

Requested by lovely @jensen-ackles-girl for my birthday bash celebration. The lyrics are from Kameron Marlowe’s song “Nothin’ Slowin’ us Down”. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: It has been months in the making and when the reader returns to Carlisle with yet another wound to take care of, the two finally close the gap between them, pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f), friends to lovers

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem!reader (900 words)

“I am surprised it took you this long to return.” His teasing words drew heat to (y/n)’s cheeks, unable to look at the handsome doctor as he took care of her wound. “How long has it been? Two weeks?”

“Three.” Her whispers left him chuckling, followed by the sound of him dropping something into the metallic tray. The typical disinfectant scent clung to her, wandering up her limbs as if it was guided by his teasing.

“Three, of course. I should have started counting the days.” For a short second she allowed herself to look at him. She had arrived at his house a few minutes ago, knowing that the only doctor she would allow to touch her wasn’t working that day. Carlisle had greeted her with a knowing smile, guiding her towards his office with his hand placed on the small of her back - a touch that had left her all tingly in excitement.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you on your day off.”Carlisle’s cold hand found her warm chin, forcing her to get lost in his golden eyes. He only shook his head at (y/n) with a smile glued to his lips.

“You never disturb me, darling. I am always happy to help you.” She felt the air get sucked out of her lungs, eyes momentarily flickering down to his pale lips. Something had always tingled between them, something that drew her closer to the tall doctor like a moth to a flame.

“Why are you always so nice to me?” It was a bold question. Deep down she was desperate to hear the words she dreamt of late at night, a confession to push the two closer together. And until today it had been nothing but that, a dream. But now she felt things shift, guided by the feeling of him cupping her cheeks slowly as if he was waiting for her to pull away.

“Well, darling. I've had my eyes on you for more than a minute. Girl, I admit it, I'm about to lose my mind.” He dipped his head down, slowly, calculated almost - and (y/n) didn’t dare pull away. She met him halfway, eagerly pressing her lips against his to draw a soft groan out of the doctor.

Carlisle didn’t break the kiss as he cupped her other cheek with his now free hand. A whimper broke out of (y/n) as he stroked along her lower lip with his tongue, begging for entrance. She had to push him away to inhale some air into her burning lungs, wide eyes staring at the smiling doctor.

“I’ve been thinking of doing this for way too long.” Her mumbled words filled his office, followed by a gasp as he picked her up and carried her towards his couch. Carlisle kissed her again, with more urgency this time. (Y/n) didn’t even try to fight against the need flushing through her, falling backwards against the couch with Carlisle towering over her. “Don’t stop, keep touching me, please.”

“Are you sure, darling?” She kissed him again, hoping that he understood what she wanted from him. His cold hands wandered down her sides, disappearing beneath her shirt as she eagerly pressed her hips against his. Most of his weight rested on top of (y/n), allowing her to feel his need for her.

“I want to take my time for you when we don’t need to worry about being interrupted. But will you let me have a taste?” Heat buzzed down her spine, unable to stop a moan from breaking out of her. She undid her trousers with trembling fingers, needing to feel whatever he wanted to offer her. Carlisle stared at (y/n) with something overly sweet swimming in his pupils as he kissed his way down her stomach.

Golden eyes kept looking at her features as he pushed her panties aside, tongue darting out to press against her heat. Both moaned at the new touch, not daring to believe that this moment was real. It had been months in the making, drawn together by her almost weekly hospital visits due to her clumsy nature, wondering who‘d be the first to break.

“Carlisle, fuck, more pressure.” It felt unreal almost, torn between the sweetness laced in his touch and the feeling of his cold tongue pressed against her pulsing bundle. He instantly followed her call, pressing himself further against her while sucking on her bundle with an unfamiliar kind of urgency.

(Y/n) had to arch her back off the couch, thighs already trembling the second he pushed two cold fingers into her tightness. Her eyes fluttered close, unable to focus on anything with her nervous eyes flickering between his darker growing ones.

“Darling,” Carlisle mumbled the word, forcing her to tremble beneath him. “You taste so sweet, I could stay here for as long as you want me to.”

“Forever, please.” It was all he needed to hear. Carlisle lapped at her folds with more urgency, fingers curled to make her cum. He needed to watch her fall apart while they were still alone in the house. And seconds later she followed the wordless call of his body, letting go with his name rolling off her tongue.

“I need you at my apartment, we aren’t done here for a long time.” The words left her before she pulled him in for a kiss, not ready to let him go any time soon.

[jeongsoob]

remember that ᯓ 𝚜𝚖𝚐

SFW version of my fic posted on @heechwe .ᐟ

୨୧ pairing: song mingi x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 4k ୨୧ genre: angst, slight fluff ୨୧ tags: exes(ish) au, "we're on a break" au, soft pining, miscommunication ୨୧ synopsis: A break is supposed to give you time to understand what you do and don't want. But what if Mingi has to come with everything that frustrates you about him, no exceptions? Can you make it work, or will you both succumb to the pressure of love not being enough? ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Beta'ed by my babes Booki @kwanisms, Tiya @gyubakeries, and Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, I love you all so much. Also song title inspiration from LANY!

There are many valid pieces of evidence to support the argument that breaks never work. Friends, family, and perfect strangers remind you, solicited or not, why minor blips of time meant to think things through are simply an excuse, leading to the demise of a relationship.

“Don’t be chickenshit,” your best friend Karina remarked when you told her you were officially taking some time apart from Mingi. He would stay back at the dorms while you both took the next two weeks to think about your future. He didn’t want to, but he had to respect your wishes if he wanted any chance to mend the fences that were broken. “You know what you want to do, so do it. Don’t hide behind a ‘break.’”

You weren’t hiding, not in the slightest. If anything, the past few days alone have given you time to breathe. To reflect on the things that have and haven’t been working in your relationship for the last year.

You work in the same industry, and yet you have kept the entirety of your coupled status under wraps from everyone, save for your intimate group of loved ones. It isn’t hard to hide when you work on almost ten guys’ hair and makeup, but it’s all too easy to let feelings impede upon your professionalism.

Mingi’s always been willing to give you everything, but he doesn’t always see the entire picture of your needs. Sometimes, you don't need him to rescue you, and his eagerness borders the line of smothering too much for your comfort.

And yet, running through the pros and cons doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You ache waking up alone, not feeling the rise and fall of his chest under your head or hearing the sounds of his gargantuan feet pattering around your apartment. It became his apartment too by association after the fifth month of dating, his belongings sitting in every nook and cranny of what used to be your solitary space. Now, without him, it feels too hollow, too reminiscent of what it was like before he came into your life.

Even drives without him are terrible, the usual cacophony of traffic more bearable when he’s by your side, singing along off-key to the music on the radio or to his playlists when he uses your car’s bluetooth.

His absence is everywhere, and where there’s freedom sits all the despair attached to his missing presence.

“It hurts!”

“It’s not gonna hurt if you just listen to me.” You try to move closer to Hongjoong’s eye with the pencil in your hand, but he whips his head away again before you can begin on his waterline. “I told you to look up and away from me. You’ll barely feel it!”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Hongjoong pouts in the makeup chair, and you stifle a giggle that bubbles in your throat. Watching so many impeccable performers be terrified of makeup applicators is probably one highlight of your career so far, especially guys as intimidating to look at as the one in front of you.

Suddenly, you feel him enter the room. The instinctual pull between you and Mingi goes beyond logical bounds, the tether made of only the metaphysical. It reminds you, every time he walks into the same space you’re in, how your body wants to be nowhere but next to his. You hate it more now than you ever have before.

“Am I going next when he’s finished?” Mingi cuts through the sudden silence to ask, his timbre a tad hollow but somehow still hopeful. You haven’t spoken for three days. This past weekend is the longest you’ve ever gone without communicating with each other. You can tell just from the sound of his voice it’s taken a toll on him.

You don’t turn to face him directly, finding some confidence from not having to look at the face you love so much head-on. “Seonghwa is, but he’s off getting his shirt hemmed, I think.”

“Just be patient, man.” Hongjoong winks at his younger friend. You thwack Hongjoong on the cheek with your eyeshadow brush, making the humored expression on his face dissipate.

“Did I say you have to talk when you’re getting your face done?” Hongjoong shakes his head with terrified eyes. “Exactly.”

You go back to your kit, but you feel despondence creep up your neck at the small quantity of black and neutral eyeshadow you have left. “Fuck it, we’ll just have to make do with the eyeliner right now.”

“Can’t you grab some from Mina’s kit? She probably won’t mind.”

You shake your head and go back to the pencil you dropped on the vanity when Mingi walked in. “I’ll just grab some more from the store later.”

“I can pick up some now if you need me to.” Mingi pipes up again, more hope seeping through his words. Sometimes, his overwhelmingly helpful nature makes you think he'd be reincarnated as a big puppy in the next life.

You finally face him with a soft smile, and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle up at your expression. “It’s okay, Min, really. Nothing I can’t handle.”

This is exactly why you needed space from Mingi. Staring into his big, brown eyes that make your body even a fraction weaker than before is why you can’t think through things properly around him. He takes all the logic and reason out of you, leaving you only to listen to the workings of your heart. And such an effect makes it simple to forget the myriad of minor problems that became so big you could not suppress them any more.

As he smiles at you, you repeat the words in your head like a mantra: he doesn’t listen, he’s too reckless, he acts on impulse half the time…

Seonghwa walks in and exclaims, “Okay, I think the shirt fits finally!” He looks between you and Mingi and then stares at Hongjoong with a curious fluff of his eyebrows. “What’s up with them?” He mouths to his friend.

Hongjoong can only shrug, the expression basically stating “Who knows anymore man?” without verbal support.

The longer you lock eyes with Mingi, the other men in the room long forgotten, you wonder if all you’re doing during this break is delaying the inevitable.

You took copious snapshots of the boys’ last looks before they had to practice on the stage. The sweat would ruin what you worked on for hours, so it was crucial to catalog it for your portfolio before that could happen.

Now, you watch them work through the three songs’ choreography with ease. Mingi takes center stage multiple times, and you smile to yourself at how ridiculous he acted an hour prior when he was in your chair, so busy complimenting you that you could barely get through doing his makeup.

“You look really pretty today,” he says as you dab the bridge of his nose with liquid highlighter. “I mean, you always do, but I haven’t seen you in a few days, so…”

You smirk and put the tub back in your makeup kit. “Making up for lost time, Min?”

Mingi blushes, a shade so pink you think you can skip putting that component of his makeup on altogether. “Just stating the obvious.”

“You don’t know,” you say, “I may have looked like shit in my sweatpants and ratty t-shirts all weekend.”

“Wanna know a secret?” You humor him, moving closer until his lips brush the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “That’s when you look the most beautiful to me.”

You retreat with trembling hands and a breathless laugh. “Are you gonna keep spitting game or can I finish your eyes now?”

Mingi smirks and snaps his eyes shut, pressing his face as close as he can to yours once again. He whispers with such a quiet but sultry tone, you think you may risk it all and kiss him once to get it out of your system. “Do whatever you want with me.”

And here you are, back in his orbit like he’s the sun and you’re a planet, willing to spin around him forever. A few weeks ago, you didn’t mind doing so until it made you dizzy, but you don’t know now if you miss depending so much on him. His “I got this, babe” one minute and “I can handle it” the next slowly made you realize he either didn’t trust you to work through anything without his help or he was so willing he couldn’t see how it came across. 

Bringing it to his attention didn’t make him any wiser to the problem, his response defensive rather than introspective. He argued it was in any boyfriend’s nature to want to do everything for their girlfriend. “Don’t you do the same for me? What’s the difference?” He asked in the fight's haste that led to your desire to take a breather from each other.

Flitting the memories away, you focus on Mingi’s undeniably enchanting dancing and rapping. It’s what reminds you why you fell for him in the first place, both his talent and work ethic, which gave way to everything else that turned you into putty for him. 

Before the group can finish the last song, a courier taps on your shoulder. “For you, miss.” He holds out a bag from the makeup store downtown, the contents inside being all that is low in your kit.

“I didn’t order anything,” you respond, fighting the only logical answer and culprit of the situation. The kid shrugs and makes his way out of the building, and you turn back to Mingi, the giant lost in his choreography. You feel your eyes light with fire rather than fuzziness, your desires and impulses from before long gone.

When he drops from the stage and makes it to the back, you slam the bag into his chest before walking away. “Wait! You said you needed this stuff!” Mingi trails behind quickly, his long legs catching up to you in seconds.

You turn when you’re alone in the hallway, your fury unleashed. “I said I could do it after work, and you went over my head again to do something I deliberately said you didn’t have to do!” Your bottom lip trembles. “Do you not care about listening to me at all?”

“What? No!” He shakes his head, his own face becoming a mask of confused anger. “I just wanted to help. And it’s just twenty bucks of makeup. Why is this such an issue right now?”

“Because I didn’t ask for your help!” You throw your hands in the air, and the gesture only makes you feel smaller.

Mingi chuckles, no humor in the sound. “You always take things on by yourself, even before we started dating. Is it so terrible of me for wanting to help, just a little?” He practically pinches his index and thumb together to emphasize his point.

“They’re my burdens to bear,” you scream. “Is it so hard to get in your head? I’m not some princess in a tower you need to save.”

“Why do you always treat someone else’s help like it’s a grandiose gesture you should feel guilty for?” He steps closer, your chests barely a breath apart. “I help you because I want to, because you deserve it and because I love you. Why can’t you stop pushing me and others away who want to make things easier on you?”

The words get stuck in your mouth, no sounds coming out in a response that makes sense or can answer his questions properly. A tear escapes your eye, falling hot on your cheek. Mingi tries to wipe it away, but you whip your head out of his direction and rub your face with your palm.

San comes from the exit you both walked out of and looks on with concern. “You guys alright?”

You shake your head and walk past them both, your heart in knots too tough to untangle today.

You clip the buckle on your heels as you continue to hold your phone’s receiver to your ear, the sun setting as you make haste to end the call and head out the door. “Woo, for the last time, you should know where I’m going by now. I thought we were friends before I started dating one of your best friends.”

“You are, but you could be playing coy, I don’t know!” Wooyoung remarks, making you laugh. You haven’t seen the kid since Monday when you walked away from the show, not having time to say goodbye to him before you made your way home.

You always spend Thursday nights with your parents for dinner. Your immediate family decided long ago to make time out of all of your busy schedules for weekly briefings and small talk over home-cooked food. It was one of the few times you found peace in the hectic nature of everyday life.

“Trust me—and you can let our mutual friend know—just the same usual Thursday plans.” You hear a knock at the door and rush to get off the phone even faster, wondering who could be outside your home so close to the evening. “I gotta go, talk to you soon.”

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress before heading to your apartment door. The man on the other side steals your breath in his white button down and denim jeans combo. He completes the ensemble with his thick-framed glasses and his hair, tousled just a touch, exactly how you like it. His fashion choices on nights like this still stun you to no end, even if you’re surprised he’s here tonight at all.

“M-Mingi,” you say. “What are—“

“I wouldn’t miss family dinner, together or not.” He clears his throat and puts his hand out, clearly eager for you to take it. “If you’ll still have me there, I mean.”

You fight the smile tugging at your cheeks and instead take a deep breath and his palm in yours. Your fingers interlace, and it reminds you more of home than the entire 900-square foot apartment behind you. “Just because you made such an effort to look so nice. It’d be a waste, you know?”

Mingi smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He smiles to himself the entire time you lock your door and head down the stairwell, not letting go of your hand once.

You don’t say no when he offers to drive, or stop him from holding your door open until you get in, and he thinks that maybe you’re turning a corner after he slipped up. And you think you might just give into him for the sheer fact being in a car again with him, listening to his off-key riffs, reminds you of everything you’ve been missing, for better or worse.

“Honey! Mingi! Come in,” your mother beckons you at the front door. She welcomes you inside wearing her signature floral apron, though your father and brother do most of the cooking.

Neither you nor your mother expected Mingi to bring flowers to tonight’s dinner. You didn’t expect him to invite himself at all, but thinking about it, it would be weird for him not to attend when your family did not know you were on a relationship hiatus.

This Thursday holds no more significance than all the others, but it warms your heart to see your mother grab a vase from the living room to hold the batch of tulips Mingi brought.

“Sometimes I think my own husband forgets my favorite flowers. But not you, my sweet boy.” Your mother pinches Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi blushes a shade of plum at the physical touch.

“Speaking of him, does he need help in the back? I know the grill can be a pain for him and Eric to get going,” Mingi offers.

“That would be wonderful, Mingi, thank you.” You smile at Mingi as he leaves you two to walk towards the back porch. He greets your father with a handshake and your little brother with a manly hug, and any residual anger you felt over the past few days instantly dissipates.

He’s always been a caring person. You knew this the second he brought a spare pack of bandaids on your second date when you slipped and fell on your knee during your first. Sometimes, as you’ve grown to learn, he seems to have a hard time hearing when his help isn’t necessary. Or the exact help he envisions isn’t the help you desire.

“That boy is one in a million, baby.” Your mother says as you walk to the kitchen together. “I can’t picture someone better to take care of you.”

You sigh. “Who says I need to be taken care of, Mom?”

She shakes her head with a grin as she keeps stirring the soup on the stove. “Everyone needs someone, my love. Even when a person is adamant about fighting their own battles like you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you huff, exasperated. “All I’m saying is that I can have someone by my side and not be wrong for wanting to do things on my own in my way, right?”

Her head continues to move back and forth, her ladle going in the same fashion. “And all I’ll say, baby, is that it’s important to let someone know those things. If you don’t tell someone what you’re looking for, they’ll make assumptions. And you know how we all feel about those.”

“They make an ass out of you and me,” Eric pipes up from behind you, making you flinch. You thwack him on the arm, and he rubs the spot with a pout. Your father and Mingi gather in the kitchen behind your brother, the simmering steaks on a large plate smelling delectable.

“Time to eat, everyone!”

Before you all can head to the table, Mingi pulls you in and whispers, “The right one is yours. Medium rare, how you like it.”

He leaves you standing alone as he sits next to your brother. Your heart resides in your throat the rest of the night, sitting beside Mingi and your mother and wondering if maybe a part of you hasn’t given credit to Mingi in the way he deserves. Maybe you both have been wrong in your own ways, and it’s still fixable.

Maybe this break is serving a purpose in a way you didn’t expect.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, but it’s charged with tension from the way Mingi rubs patterns into the back of your hand with his thumb. Both of your palms rest over your thigh, the muscle on fire from how his large fingers encompass yours and hover over the fabric of your dress.

Now is not the time for sexual frustration. It’s time to talk and see if the break can be amended into some form of peace treaty.

He parks his car in the lot and looks over at you with a small grin, close-mouthed but earnest all the same. “Tonight was fun. Glad to hear Eric’s doing good in school.”

You smile back. “My parents were happy to see you. They thought with the comeback coming up you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I told you that.”

Your throat is in a mess of knots once again as you nod. You turn in your seat to face him head on, and Mingi mirrors your body posture. Removing his palm from your thigh, you hold it in both of your hands, finding some strength to let the words come out. “We need to talk.”

Mingi’s eyes go wide immediately, inching as close as he can to you despite the ridiculously large glove box in his way. “If this is the start of that conversation, please—“

“No, no! I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I shouldn’t have started with that.”

His free hand goes over his chest, and the relief floods over his entire expression. “You really can scare the shit out of a guy, you know that right?”

“I said I’m sorry,” you respond with a teasing pout. “But, I think I’ve been terrible at communicating what I need from you and from this relationship.”

Mingi thinks the words over before he nods slowly. “Okay.”

You inhale again, taking in a deeper breath. “First, I apologize for not being transparent. I should’ve said that I’m not exactly the greatest at getting help, not just from you. And my expectations couldn’t have been met if I didn’t tell you what they were, and I’m sorry for that.”

Mingi nods with ease, almost like he’s shrugging it off entirely, like there was nothing to apologize for. 

You continue, your confidence in your speech building. “I love the big and little things you do for me, and I’ve always appreciated your willingness to be there no matter the time of day for those you care about. For my family, for the guys—even for a random person on the goddamn sidewalk.”

You feel tears pooling in your eyes. “But, I need you to listen when I tell you there are some things that you can’t help me with, or that I don’t need your help for. And taking my opinion and listening doesn’t mean you’re not doing your best as a boyfriend. The opposite, actually.”

You see words on Mingi’s tongue threatening to spill out, and you give him the clear to say them. “I guess I just don’t know how to show you I’m here for you otherwise.”

“You’ve always shown me that, Min,” you respond instantly, not wanting him to doubt himself or his capabilities as a partner. “All I want is for you to be by my side, even if I’m struggling with things, and if you can understand that I’ll ask for your help when I need it moving forward, I think we’ll be okay. Okay?” You kiss his palm in between your own hands, and you tuck it under your chin.

Mingi smiles and puts his other hand on your thigh, rubbing the skin through the material of your dress. “Does this mean that I have to go back to that store and get a refund for the makeup I bought?”

You laugh, the sound coated with happiness, and shake your head again. “No. Why let all that good eyeshadow go to waste, right?”

Mingi chuckles, full of vigor. “Right.” He leans across the box between you, your lips an inch away from his. “And does this mean I can kiss you now?”

You quirk an eyebrow and smirk. “If you know what’s good for you, Song Mingi.”

His lips press to yours, quick and hard, and you swear you hear the clack of your teeth against his the second they collide. You don’t care, though. The feelings that accompany the kiss are all-encompassing; the pain from being apart for days, the tension from the entire night between you like a knife ready to strike down, the love that’s always been there even when you both were apart.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Mingi confesses. His yearning pours out via his kisses, all the things he hasn’t been able to say in the past week leaving his body with each caress. They go everywhere along your face, until he plants another on your lips, his smile breaking through it. It’s softer than all the other ones you’ve received from him in the past few minutes. “I love you.”

You know he means it every time he says it. Yet, somehow, with a newfound understanding of your shared wants and needs, and a promise for the future to be better than the past, this time he says it feels sweeter than it ever has. And when you say you love him back, you mean it even more.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊: @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators @pirateeznet

𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝙼𝚈 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙺𝚂 𝘰𝘳 𝙹𝙾𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖩𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖮𝖮𝖡; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥

[figofswords]

the post grad why did i get an art degree what am i even doing what do i want in life where am i going crisis has finally hit i want to. lie down in the dirt. or something

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I am also the youngest but I am the favorite (as the one who has never gone to prison it’s not hard lmao) and I feel Pietro vibes hard but I think it’s more of “being a little fucking gremlin” that gives youngest vibes to me.

Also say the word and I’ll fight your brother for you. You’re awesome and deserve good things.

yk in retrospect any time ive hung out with people and ive been A Little Shit and i tell them im the youngest in my family they always say 'i can tell' so i think youre onto something

[nobodybetterlookatme]

Okay time for me to 🥰 in the tags real quick lmao

[wisconsindean]

do not look at this i’m just gonna be throwing a fit in the tags and i need to feel like its going somewhere

[voulezloux]

.

[heartbreakfeelsogood]

[gayemoji]

im going to kill a certain vicadin addict so bad. not before i give him some actual unrequited love first. i love him but he is so stupid.

[gatorinator]

Can God translate me. Just for like 3-5 business days. I just need a little break—I’ll come back I promise.

[laughinglynx]

.