#being a grown up is $$$ but he secretly pulled the cash together so i could play

[fenhawke-myheart]

Ps5 whomst?? Veilguard????

[kinsey3furry300]

A very confused Star Wars Fan desperately tries to justify their belief that “Caravan of Courage” shows the way forward for the franchise. No, really.

Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve loved Star Wars. And I mean, all of it. The books, the games, the Lego, the spin-offs: I even enjoy the Holiday Special in a The Room so-bad-you-just-need-to-see-it sort of way.  But particularly the films. But here is when we run into the big problem: I’m just the wrong age. The original trilogy launched before I was born, the prequel trilogy hit cinemas when I was already a teen and while I went and saw them and enjoyed them, I was at that age where I was self-conscious about seeing a “kids” film, and hyper-aware of how silly and cringy those films were in parts. So my indoctrination, my inoculation with the Star Wars bug didn’t happen in the cinema, and it didn’t happen with any of the main franchise works. It happened on home video, on a skiing trip in the French Alps in the early 90’s. I’d have been about 6, and this was the first time I’d ever been abroad other than to see relatives in Ireland.  And I loved it: to this day I love skiing, but more than that, I have very, very fond childhood memories of this trip. This was shortly before I lost my biological mother to cancer, she’d have received her diagnosis just after we got back from the trip. This was when my younger sister stopped being an annoying screaming thing and became and became an actual person I could talk and play and share ideas with, this was before the combination my mothers long illness and my father having just launched his own IT start up meant I didn’t see him or her any more, despite the fact they were in the same house as me. This was this wonderful, nostalgic child-hood bubble when my family was intact, and nothing could ever go wrong. I skied all day with mum and dad, and would come back to the chalet in the evening. It was an English speaking chalet, I met my first real-life American there, and having grown up in the 90’s in the UK nothing was cooler than making friends with an actual American my own age. He had a hulk Hogan action figure with springs in the legs so if you put him on a hard surface and punched his head down, when you let go he’d jump really high in the air. We used to play with it together in the bath, back in that weird 90’s time-bubble when it was possible to convince two sets of parents that this kid you’d just met was you best friend in the world and of course shared bath time was, somehow, normal and appropriate. And fresh from bath time, tired from the day, the parents would give us some hot coco, dump us kids in front of the tv and grab the first shitty low-budget VHS they could find to keep us distracted while they went to the bar. In this particular time, in this particular place, that shitty low budget cartoon was the  complete set of the 1985 Lucasfilm/ABC Ewoks cartoon, plus the two spin off movies, and to this day that cheap, kitschy, kind of bad series has a special warm and cosy place in my heart. I remember being enthralled by the world, in love with the characters, applied by the bad guys and the injustice they caused (to this day I’m still irate about that time Wicket lost his set of beads documenting his progress towards becoming a full warrior and the older Ewoks basically said, tough, you need to re-earn all those merit badges from scratch. This struck me as exactly the sort of bullshit an adult would pull, and pissed me off) and on tenterhooks about what would happen to the characters.

It was also, by a coincidence, the first ever Star Wars media I was exposed to, and the above combination of events probably explains a lot about me.

So I was surprised, the other day, when scrolling Disney+, to find they’d added Caravan of Courage AND Battle for Endor to the roster in my region. Surely Disney wouldn’t want their slick, cool brand associated with this old trash? Surely there could be no place for this in the post-Mandalorian Star Wars cannon? Surely this is a horrible mistake some intern made, right?

Unless…. What if I’ve miss-remembered? What if it’s not just rose-tinted nostalgia goggles, and it’s, in fact, secretly really, really good?

I rushed to my comfy chair, got a blanket, dimmed the lights, made some coco (with rum in it, because why the hell not?) and sat down to re-examine this lost gem.

And wow: it’s every bit as shit as you’d expect.

It has aged exactly as poorly as you’d expect a cheap, mid 80’s direct to video spin-off to age. Caravan of Courage? More like Caravan of Garbage, am I right?

And yet… I still enjoyed every moment.

And it was sitting there, in my pyjamas, watching a cheaply made direct to video cash-grab from just before I was born, seeing it again for the first time in nearly 30 years, and I realised something.

It doesn’t really matter if this film is bad, so long as I enjoy it. And if it doesn’t really mater if this is bad, then I, like many Star Wars fans, wasted a huge amount of time and emotional effort on being butthurt about stuff I didn’t like about the Rise of Skywalker and it’s ilk. Because somewhere, right now, a tired and frustrated parent is putting Disney+ on to keep their kids quiet for two hours. And they won’t think too hard about what they put on, so long as it keeps little Timmy busy for a bit. Somewhere, right now, a kid is watching Rise of Skywalker, and it’s the first Star Wars media they’ve ever seen.

And that’s okay. Because we don’t know what that kids home life is like. We don’t know if it’s good or bad. Maybe it’s great, maybe it’s about to take a dramatic plunge like mine did, and this moment here will be the cosy, warm memory they look back on in 30 years time, and that’s beautiful.  They’re getting introduced to a fun, wonderful fantasy world that could be with them all their lives, through good times and bad, and as fans we should be happy about that.

Star Wars will never, die: it’s too darn profitable, Disney will never let it. And while I hope they learn from their mistakes and make sure every future Star Wars is a timeless gem of story-telling, statistically, if you keep making enough films, some of them will be bad. And while I’d like them all to be great, it’s still okay if they’re bad.

Because nothing can take away my memories of that week in that chalet. Nothing can take-away my memories of when they put the original trilogy on in cinemas for the special edition and I had my jaw hit the floor with how good it was on the big screen, not knowing or caring who shot first. Nothing can take away you memories of the Original Trilogy, the Prequels, or the Clone Wars. Nothing can tarnish the bits of the sequil trilogy that you like, and there are good bits in there.

But wait, what about continuity? What about the sacred, perfect written time-line that used to exist?

Well, what about it? Have you seen any other big, epic fantasy universe before? They’re all a mess. A work of fiction, particularly fantasy, can be extensive, or tightly written, but not both. Harry Potter is only seven books, and the last two feel, tonally, like they’re from an entirely different series. I love them, but the grim-dark kicked in so fast you’ll get whiplash. The Hobbit is a perfect written self-contained novel, and LOTR is *The* big boy high-fantasy trilogy: fast forward 50 years, and Christopher Tolkien is desperately squeezing every last drop of money out of his father’s corpse by finishing and publishing every unfinished note JRR ever wrote right down to his shopping lists. Even Dune goes of the rails with sequels. I can only think of four fantasy works that are both extensive and consistently tightly written, Song of Ice and Fire, Wheel of Time, Malazan: Book of the Fallen and Brandon Sanderson’s Cosmere universe. And even then, the prequels and spin-offs mess with the timelines: the Dunk and Egg novella’s change some character’s canonical ages and timelines, Wheel of Time was going slowly off the rails even before the Jordan died, Forge of Darkness made what was a good metaphor for the creation of it’s world into a literal war deep in the past, and Sanderson’s first Novel Elantris got a re-write to bring it more in line with the rest of the shared universe. The MCU, oft held up as the modern example of tightly planned, well thought out ongoing storytelling, is a lie: it was never as pre-planned out as Disney wants us to think; the first Iron Man, apparently, barely had a script, with Downey ad-lib-ing most of his scenes. None of the MCU films are direct sequels to each-other other than Infinity war and Endgame. There are three Iron Man films, and Three Thor films, and none continue an ongoing story line across multiple films, and the Cap films barely continue an arc, but only where Cap’s relationship with Natasha and Bucky is involved.  Much like these, Star War’s cannon is a complete, nightmarish, confusing, tangled, illogical mess. And it has been since 1984, as Caravan of Courage proves. It was never consistent and well planned.

And that’s okay.

I used to care about plot holes. I used to care about which works were cannon in Star Wars lore. I’m over that now. I’m happy to imagine the books, films and games not as a blow-by-blow historical account of a galaxy far far away, but as campfire stories from within this fun, imaginative world that we’re all invited to listen to. Stories that are in-universe myth and folklore, that we can all snuggle up and listen to while drinking highly alcoholic rum and remembering better times, knowing that wherever the future throws at us, no matter how the world goes to hell around us, we’ll still have the memories, and the ability to make our own new stories in the wonderful Star Wars world we all share.

And that’s okay. No, more than that: that’s beautiful.

Also Star Wars is completely unambiguous on the fact we’re allowed to kill fascists no matter how many times they keep coming back with a new logo, so that’s timely I guess.

So, there’s my hot take two-years after everyone else stopped caring about this stuff, as per bloody usual. Tell me why I’m wrong below, and does anyone else have any truly awful spin-off shows that they kind of have a nostalgic soft spot for?

[takenbyheartstrings]

I’d Never Break Your Heart [ p.p ]

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

request/summary: Peter gets stood up and the reader [neighbor] cheers him up.

authors note: i honestly have no idea what to say except that i’m kinda low-key proud of this one?? even if it is kinda really not so but kinda short. idk if that makes sense LMAO

warnings: FLUFF

*pre-endgame/infinity war but just after homecoming*

Peter had been sitting on the street corner for three hours. You only knew that because you had checked up on him every hour. Because, ever since you moved in, you and Peter had been best friends. You originally moved in with your Aunt, who became Aunt May’s best friend, but she, unfortunately, died because of terminal cancer, that was a year ago when you were 15, you were able to keep the rent up because the place you were living in was very cheap for New York, plus your landlord had made you a deal, but you worked for J Jonah Jameson and he put up a pretty promising deal of cash. You didn’t like the man, but you had camera skills, and that’s what he paid for.

“Hey, Pete! How you doing?” You questioned.

He shrugged his shoulders, “She isn’t gonna show.”

You had been giving him hope this whole time, it’s been three hours, she wasn’t gonna show, “Yeah, sorry buddy. You can always come over, we can watch a movie on Netflix or something.”

He gave a shy smile, “I’ll be up in a sec,” He ran up the stairs changing into his hello kitty pajama bottoms and his ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ shirt, which you had thoroughly enjoyed teasing him about.

You heard a knock on your door, as you whipped it open, “Hey spidey.” You winked.

“Quiet.” He laughed, “You gonna let me in or what?”

You smiled extending the door open a little more, “What’re we watching tonight?”

“Maybe something funny, I just got ditched, I wanna laugh.”

You shook your head, “Peter Parker, you always chose the ones who leave you to dust.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Really? Then who was that last week and the week before, we can’t forget the ones that tell you they’ll make it up to you and never do,” you smirked.

“So, how does Grown Up’s sound?” he changed the subject knowing you were right.

It was all part of his failing plan to make you fall in love with you because in Peter’s mind, he thought you could never like Peter, as in romantically, he thought this platonic thing was the furthest you’d go.

You walked to the kitchen as the movie came on screen, “Cotton candy or buttered popcorn?” You asked.

“Both,” Peter replied, you always chose popcorn, but in the end, you got up to get the cotton candy too, so when Peter has the choice, he picks both because he knows you’re gonna end up having both in the end.

You smile bringing the popcorn and cotton candy over setting them down in front of the two of you. The two of you laughed at the movie on-screen, it was one of your favorite movies to watch, that and a bunch of other Rom-Com’s Peter’s too afraid to say he likes, acting as if he only watches them for you (which was true in the beginning but now every time you suggest one he gets excited), and it was the movie, sure. But it was also you. See, you made witty comments in every single movie the two of you watched. But if you were to repeat a movie, you’d never speak in the same parts, only the parts that you didn’t speak in and he found it mesmerizing. He also took notes of the parts you didn’t speak in so that the next time he watched the movie, he could put two and two together and actually have watched the movie. But it wasn’t just the fact that you spoke. It was the fact that you were so invested in it. How your eyes lit up and how your witty comments made yourself laugh, which made Peter laugh.

You were interested in the way Peter looked at you when you spoke when you laughed when you smiled. He didn’t know he was doing it. But you did. It was just the way you made his smile bigger, and how you could feel his eyes watching you as you sat on the floor giving Peter the little yellow love couch because you know how much Peter’s body hurts from being Spider-Man and from rushing around the city. You both cared so much for each other, and it was hard for you not to pin him down, because, secretly, you wanted Peter to make the first move. Sure he’d asked you over and made plans with you first. But that was all platonic and boring. You wanted him to pin you down and kiss you. Which we all know, due to Peter’s somewhat shy self, that wouldn’t happen.

So after the movie, you offered to walk Peter to his door, which was not even five seconds away, but to you, it made sense. He smiled as he grabbed the keys from his jacket, which he had left at your place the night before (along with his keys), as he went to put the keys into the door, you pulled him around.

“Wait, Peter, I- um-,” you smiled just going in for the kiss pinning him down against the door as you pulled away, he put his lips back on yours, and as you pulled away for the final time, biting your lip, you whispered in his ear, “I’d never break your heart.” Before walking away leaving Peter in a state of shock.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Back again, with my opinions that no one asked for.  This time, it’s my takes on the animated versions of Pyro.

1. X-Men: The Animated Series Pyro

This, this is my boy right here.  Look at this dork with his terrible 70′s fluffy hair, hanging out at the bar with his not-so-hetero life-partner Avalanche.  This was my first introduction to the character (in fact, the cartoon was my first introduction to X-Men in general, and sent me down the path of reading comics). 

This version of Pyro is an established career criminal and professional lackey, usually working for Mystique but not above a bit of robbery or kidnapping on the side if he’s bored.  He and Avalanche are presented as buddies who have probably been working together for awhile.  They first show up in the episode “The Cure,” hanging out on Muir Island waiting for Mystique to give  them orders, then completely screwing up Mystique’s plans when they decide to kidnap the scientist Dr. Adler for extra cash . Apparently Mystique can’t leave them to their own devices for even a day.  

Pyro also hilariously tries to flirt with Rogue by setting a chair on fire and making a bad pun.  It goes about as well as you’d expect:

Get your hands off of her, Pyro, she is too good for you.  (The best part about this is, I don’t think he even used his powers here?  He just tried to impress Rogue as “guy with a flamethrower,” rather than “fire-controlling mutant.”  No wonder she throws his dumb ass through the wall.)

Pyro and Avalanche both show up again later, alongside Blob, creating a distraction so that Mystique can try to assassinate Senator Kelly in the animated series version of the Days of Future Past storyline.  In a much later episode, the same trio cause trouble again to lure the X-Men out so that Mystique can try to win Rogue back to their side.  That episode feels out of continuity to the rest of the series, since a flashback shows Rogue previously working with the Brotherhood (alongside Pyro and Avalanche), but none of them recognize each other when they “first meet” in “The Cure.”  I can assume that maybe Rogue lost her memories in the trauma of absorbing Ms. Marvel, but I don’t know what Pyro and Avalanche’s excuse is.  Frequent head injuries?  Maybe they’re both just really dumb? 

I am fond of TAS Pyro, and he’s probably the closest to comics Pyro out of the animated adaptations, despite being portrayed as British rather than Australian.  He looks fairly similar to his comics counterpart, and fulfills the same role of being a hired pain-in-the-ass that annoys the X-Men, mostly for money, as well as being Avalanche’s BFF.  He’s also clearly a full-grown, experienced adult who’s probably somewhere in his thirties at least, which is about the age I estimate for comics Pyro.  He’s kinda dumb, but practical.  He just wants to commit crimes with Avalanche, get paid, and run away before the X-Men can beat him up.  That’s a reasonable dream, right? 

X-Men Evolution Pyro:

Well, at least the guy loves his work.  I give him an “A” for enthusiasm.

I have mixed feelings about this Pyro.  He’s a lot of fun, but not really the Pyro I know and love from the comics.  This Pyro is one of Magneto’s Acolytes rather than a member of the Brotherhood, working alongside Gambit, Colossus and Sabretooth.  He really, REALLY enjoys setting things on fire, and doesn’t seem to care who gets hurt in the process.  Or rather, he seems to also enjoy people getting hurt, and tends to laugh maniacally while torching things, to the point of seeming really unbalanced.  I can’t tell if he’s completely detached from reality and is viewing things like a video game, without a real understanding of consequences, or if he knows exactly what he’s doing, and just likes to hurt people.  Either way, Evo Pyro seems much less stable than comic book Pyro, who can also be pretty wild and over-the-top in his fights and probably enjoys fire a little too much, but still acts an an overall rational person. 

Meanwhile, Evo Pyro repeatedly watches a video of Magneto seeming to die and laughs hysterically at it:

He is delighted when Wolverine shows up looking for a fight (because he was “bored out of his skull,”), and seems disappointed when Wolverine leaves abruptly afterwards.  It’s interesting that, after Magneto’s apparent death (not really) in Evolution, the other Acolytes all go off on their own, but Pyro hangs out alone in their base, as if he doesn’t really have a life to go back to, or any real identity outside of being “Pyro.”  When the series ends, he is shown in the future as having joined the Brotherhood (with Toad, Scarlet Witch, Quicksilver, Blob and Avalanche), apparently working for SHIELD in some kind of Freedom Force style team.  I’d like to imagine that he’s super cheerful and friendly when he first joins up, and they are all a little bit terrified of him. 

The character design is different, but looks pretty good for a re-imagining of the character.  They’ve remembered the most important aspects of Pryo, namely “scrawny,” “fire colors,” and “crazy blond hair all over the place.”  He also seems to be actually Australian, judging by him using the term “down under” at one point.  In fitting with the “teen X-Men” theme of Evolution, this Pyro looks very young.  If the Brotherhood are all in high school, Pyro looks like he’s college age, like a couple of years older at most.

Like I said, Evo Pyro is fun, and surprisingly popular (I find a lot of Evo Pyro fan-stuff when I’m looking for comics Pyro), but it kinda feels like he got shafted, story-wise.  In both this series and Wolverine and the X-Men, cartoons where the Brotherhood got a bigger role and more development, Pyro didn’t make the cut as a Brotherhood member and wound up in a minor role as an Acolyte.  He feels kind of under-developed, and is mostly there to either be menacing or comic relief. 

Wait a minute....menacing....comic-relief....under-developed.......laughs hysterically at violence......

Maybe Duggan has actually been writing Evolution Pyro in Marauders this whole time?

I don’t want to take anything away from fans of Evo Pyro, but I kinda wonder what we could have gotten if he’d been a Bayville high school student and part of the more sympathetic teen Brotherhood.  Would he have a better developed character?  Would they have made him an annoying twerp like Toad (I say that with great affection, Toad is probably my favorite Evo character) or a smug secretly-insecure hot-shot like Quicksilver?  Or anger issues like Evo Avalanche?  Would they let him keep his original name and nationality, or would he be an American teen with a cutesy on-the-nose name like Ash Embers or Flameo Hotman?    We’ll never know!

Wolverine and the X-Men Pyro:

Again an Acolyte rather than a Brotherhood member, this Pyro has even less development than Evo Pyro.  He shows up in the first episode being rescued from the Mutant Response Division (along with Boom Boom, Dust, and others).  In that scene, he’s clearly meant to be Australian (saying “mate,”), and appears to be on friendly terms with Boom Boom and Dust.  Later on Genosha, he seems to be one of Magneto’s guards/lackeys, and doesn’t appear to mind Dust being thrown in prison.  He’s either a true believer, or is mercenary and practical-minded like comics Pyro, and has decided that following Magneto is his best chance for survival,  Pyro does apologize to Nightcrawler and offer a quick “Nothing personal,” when Magneto sends the Acolytes after him, so maybe he doesn’t revel in his work the same way Evo Pyro does.  The only other notable thing he does is get in trouble for telling Lorna news about Wanda going missing (Magneto is pissed enough to throw him into a cell for that), so I assume that this Pyro is also a massive gossip.  It’s the best I can do with what very little we get of him.  The X-Men don’t seem to have any issue with Pyro (or even recognize him) when they first rescue him, so I’m guessing that he didn’t have any criminal history before joining Magneto in Genosha?  Unlike TAS series Pyro, who’s overall attitude is, “Be gay, do crimes!  And by crimes, I mean arson and kidnapping!” 

I’m not fond of this design.  It’s a nice updated look, and really more stylish than what he’s worn in the comics, but the hair is too douche-bag frat-boy for me, and I can’t get past the little soul-patch on his chin.  Shave that nonsense, Pyro, you can’t pull off facial hair.  He looks older than Evo Pyro but younger than comics Pyro - maybe mid-to-late 20′s? 

This Pyro is sadly kinda forgettable.  I’m not sure why Pyro got largely skipped over as a Brotherhood member in later X-Men cartoons, but the fact that the character was long dead in the comics by the time the cartoons aired probably had something to do with it.  Kinda sad that they wasted the potential they could have gotten out of teen Bobby vs. teen Pyro in Evolution, though. 

(Come to think of it, Gambit got similarly shafted in Evolution and Wolverine and the X-Men, since they pushed him into a minor recurring side-character role.  At least in the original X-Men TAS, Gambit actually got to be an X-Man and main character.)  

Obviously, TAS Pyro is my favorite out of these, but I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.  Nothing wrong with being a fan of Evo Pyro or even the barely there WatXM Pyro, they’re all good!

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Galas and Fires

So this is Part two here is to my Master List and Part One. Enjoy

----------------

When she woke up to the bright light peeking through her windows the next morning she decided to get up and go to the park to design. Near lunchtime, a shadow fell over her.  "Hey Mar," Chloe greeted, looking down at her bluenette friend. "You realize its one and you probably haven’t been responsible by eating anything today."

"Hey Chloe, no I didn't realize it was that late and no I haven’t eaten anything," Marinette said, looking at her phone. "Since we're already going to be at your hotel, can we just turn it into a sleepover?"

"Ya sure, why not. I'll call up Kagami and tell her to bring her stuff. Movie marathon and spa night?" Chloe asked now sitting as she looked through contacts. Marinette nodded in agreement. “Hey Blueberry, I’m here with Mar. We want to have a sleepover after the gala. Yes, movies and spa. Cool, gala starts at six-thirty to around ten o’clock tonight. Bye love you!” Chloe finished hanging up. 

“Cool want to head to your house for lunch?” Chloe asked, standing up. 

“Ya mama made quiches don’t worry spinach and feta,” Marinette said standing up and holding arms with Chloe. They take a nice but short walk to the bakery. “Mama I’m home and I brought Chloe,” Marinette greeted as she entered. 

“It’s good to see you. We, Tom and I, are going to the gala tonight,” Sabine said, hugging the two girls. 

“So mama you know how I’m hanging out with Kagami, Luka, and Adrien during the gala because Kagami and Adrien’s parent won’t let them go,” Marinette said as Sabine nodded. “Well, we all want to sleepover at Chloe’s after the gala are we allowed to?”

“Of course it’s nice that you’re staying with your friends. I’m sorry you couldn’t get out of It Chloe,” Sabine said, looking sympathetically at the girl she started to see as a daughter. 

“I’ve learned to deal with it. Anyways, after I get to hang out with my family,” Chloe says with a smile. 

“Awww, Chloe!” Marinette said hugging her. “We’re going to steal your quiches bye, Mama!”

After eating the quiches it was already three. They were watching Yuri on Ice, Adrien had gotten the miraculous squad into it and anime in general. 

“Hey, Chlo, I’m going to grab my night bag. Tomorrow morning, want to go shopping for the winter social? It’s next week?” Marinette asked, standing. 

“Sure Mar, but I don’t know why you’re worrying over it, you already graduated. I don’t understand why you don’t just take a break from the stupid people we call our classmates. Also, can you come to the hotel before to help me with my makeup?” Chloe asked, standing up and turning off the t.v. 

“You know the only reason I’m still in school is that I’m class president,” Marinette sighed, taking their quiche plates to the kitchen. “And I didn’t want to be accused of wanting attention.”

“Well Mar, I’m proud of you. I’m going to head to the hotel to shower and by the time you get there I should be out and maybe dressed, depending on how I feel,” Chloe said, waving bye to her friend. 

Marinette climbed to her room and grabbed the essentials like her hairbrush, two outfits, always prepared for a disaster, a toothbrush, her favorite color nail polish, her super cute and comfy pajamas, and a fluffy blanket. She also stuffed the Miracle Box in her bag; she never leaves more than twelve hours without it. She grabbed most of her cash; she was hoping to buy some fabrics. She also grabbed her stash of snacks for the movie night. 

“Bye, Mama!” Marinette said leaving the house, but she didn’t hear her mama’s response and her papa went out to buy Sabine flowers. She didn’t worry about it, she’ll see them tomorrow after shopping. 

When she got to the hotel, she was let inside because Chloe and Marinette are now friends. She found Chloe’s room within the maze-like halls and entered. She took a seat on Chloe’s bed after she dropped all her stuff. She had fallen asleep but woke up when her vision flashes orange and she wakes up to Chloe standing by her bathroom door in a white fluffy bathrobe. 

“Mar, you ok?” Chloe asked, stepping closer to Marinette as she pats her golden-blonde hair dry. 

“Ya it was just a weird dream,” she answered, sitting up. “You want me to help with hair and makeup?”

“Yes, your makeup style makes me look naturally beautiful and would you be able to put my hair in the braided bun,” Chloe said as she dries her hair. 

“Ok,” Marinette said, standing up. “I’m going to do three French braids into a princess bun.” After she finished Chloe’s hair she started working on her makeup. Thankfully Chloe had stopped wearing the super pigmented blue eyeshadow; she toned it down for more natural color. “And you’re all done. Do you want to get changed now and have a small snack before the gala?” Marinette asked, appreciating her handy work. 

"Let's have a small snack before I get changed. I have cookies here for Tikki if she would like them," Chloe said, pulling off the cover to the cookie plate.

"Thank you, Chloe!" Tikki said, flying over to grab a cookie. Pollen was already sitting on the plate eating some honey.

“Want a smoothie as your snack, the one I ordered is blueberry, and honey," Chloe said, putting a straw in her cup. She had grown accustomed to honey after Pollen started staying with her permanently. "But I'm going to guess you would like a strawberry smoothie." Marinette nodded in agreement. 

After they had finished their smoothies, Chloe got changed into her baby blue shoulderless dress with a puffy skirt that landed around the knee. Marinette had made this dress for her friend's birthday a couple of months prior and it would be the first event she would wear it to. This was an MDC original. 

A couple of years ago Marinette started selling her designs to people like her Uncle Jagged, Clara Nightingale, and people had fallen in love with the designs, so much so that Gabriel requested a line with her. She had created the line and it had been a big hit. She put most of the money in her bank account. The money would help her parents if she had died as Ladybug, but if they weren't around to collect it the money would be split up amongst her friends, except for Adrien after he refused.

"Mar, you gotta get going my daddy will be here soon to escort me down," Chloe said, breaking her out of the past. 

"Oh yeah I also have to get going I'm supposed to be meeting the rest of the miraculous team at the Eiffel Tower," Marinette said then transformed. "Chloe, you look extra pretty tonight." Ladybug and Chloe hugged until they heard a knock on her door, her dad was there to pick her up. They broke away and Ladybug jumped off the balcony and ran towards the Eiffel Tower. When she dropped everyone was already waiting for her.

"Hey, Mar. Do you think I can drop my stuff in Chloe's room before heading down?" Ryuko asks, switching her bag to her other shoulder.

"Ya you don't want to show up at the gala with your bag, that would be weird," Ladybug answered, hugging the rest of the group. "You all ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Viperon grumbled, not wanting to be stuck at a stuffy gala all night.

"Don't worry about it the pain only lasts for the first couple hours," Chat jokes, then jumped towards the hotel. 

They all wait on the roof of the hotel for Ryuko to come back so they could enter together as a squad. They heard Ryuko join them so the miraculous team jumped down towards the red carpet entrance that was surrounded by paparazzi. Flashes from the cameras blind the heroes as microphones were shoved in their faces. 

“Chat! Are you and Ladybug dating?” 

“Who is Hawkmoth? Is it true you know who he is?” 

“Are you guys gonna keep being heroes?”

“What is your statement towards Hawkmoth if he is watching tonight?”

“Viperon! are you in love with Ladybug? Do you and Chat secretly despise each other because of it?”

"Who are you all really behind the masks?"

They ignore the questions and enter inside where clapping began as soon as they entered applause broke out throughout the room. They saw all of Paris there to celebrate and raise money to help people in need. Ladybug smiled knowing that she helped make these people happier and safer. She picks her parents out in the sea of faces, that she and her friends stood in front of, and is happy to see them enjoying themselves. She also saw her classmates everyone was fawning over Lila’s ‘MDC’ original dress, specially made just for her. She also noticed Chloe approaching the group. 

“My dress is an actual MDC dress because I actually know her. That’s right, MDC is a girl and her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe said, spinning to show off her dress.

“That’s a lie. Why would I lie about this beautiful dress?” Lila said, crying. 

“Because your life sucks,” Chloe stated, crossing her arms. 

Gabriel walked over to the girls, hearing the conversation of his prodigy. “You’re talking about MDC?” 

“Yes, Mr. Agreste, he’s quite nice, right? He could also be a model with his looks as well,” Lila cooed. 

“I believe you mean, Miss Dupain-Cheng. She is quite nice and talented. Chloe, I saw your dress as she was working on it and it turned out quite nicely,” Gabriel said, confirming Chloe’s statement. 

“Oh I’m sorry I must have been thinking of MAC,” Lila lied while glaring at Chloe before anyone could question. 

“Of course you did,” Chloe fakes a laugh while brushing her off. All of Lila’s group genuinely laughs along with Chloe. 

As time went on, she saw many people, by now her parents were long gone. The number of people was starting to dwindle all that was left is quiet chatter. That made it quite easy to hear the news reporter, who had been standing near the heroes. 

“There was a fire three dead, two bodies were recovered,” the reporter said. “Now sending you to the scene.”

The heroes immediately left the gala. They saw the lights and realized it was Mar’s house. Her parents had been home. They saw police and firefighters there along with paramedics. 

“What’s the situation,” Viperon asked, landing along with the rest of the team. 

“Three dead only two bodies were found though,” the fire chief informed the heroes. “We couldn’t find the daughter’s body. We think since she was smaller all that’s left is ash. The parents' bodies were recovered. The cause of the fire a silk dress left to dry by the stove, but was too close and caught fire.”

“Are we sure the parents are gone and how do we know the daughter was home?” Ladybug asked in a more timid voice than normal. 

“There bodies are bad, they’re on a stretcher over there and she wasn’t at the gala. We found something that looked like could have been remnants of her,” the paramedic answered. 

“Anyone know about their family situation?” Officer Raincomprix, Sabrina’s dad, asked the four young heroes.

“Besides one of Tom’s parents, who live here in Paris, and the other who travels and all of Sabine’s family from China there’s no one else,” Ryuko responded, looking to the stretchers. 

“Anything salvageable?” Ladybug asked, trying to gain control of her emotions. 

“There’s a safe with some stuff inside, Chat can you open it?” Officer Raincomprix asked.  

Chat shows some hesitation, subtly looking towards Ladybug for confirmation, which she gave. “Yes show me where.”

“It’s already out here, we don’t want anyone else entering. The building is too unstable and will probably collapse soon,” the fire chief said leading them to a medium-size safe that must have taken two guys to move.

Chat opens it with cataclysm, which he learned to control to smaller places, only breaking the lock itself. Inside was all three of the family’s wills. Marinette’s will surprised everyone because she was so young. She had written hers a couple of months after becoming the beloved hero, Ladybug. She wanted to make sure everything was sorted and hopefully helpful for her parents. Her will reads: 

‘If I die an untimely death, everything I own goes to my parents. If they are no longer here with me, then everything that I have is to be split up between my friends. Specifically Chloe, Kagami, Luka, and Adrien. If they are unwilling or not around donate it to a children’s charity.’

Her parents' will said:

‘Everything is to go to our daughter, Marinette Ann Dupain-Cheng. This includes our bakery and bank accounts. If our death comes before she’s an adult her Grandfather Dupain, Tom’s father has stated he would take her in and support her until she can support herself. If something happened to Marinette with us, follow her written will.’

Her grandmother’s pearl necklace and earrings were placed in a traditional Chinese jewelry box along with her grandmother’s engagement ring. There were also many family photos starting from Tom and Sabine’s wedding, all the way up to Marinette’s graduation. There was also quite a lot of money, but that was not too important at the moment. 

The heroes disappeared after that, leaving for Chloe’s room. Everyone was silent in shock. When they arrived Chloe was already there looking at her friend worriedly: she had heard everything from the reporter after the heroes had left. “Hey Mar, it’s okay to cry. You just lost everything and everyone thinks you’re dead,” Chloe said, rubbing her back in a hug. 

“You’re right,” she paused, letting out a cry. “Everyone thinks I’m dead. I have nothing left here, I can start a new life somewhere else. Maybe America.”

“Mar that’s the grief talking,” Luka said, joining in the hug. 

“I have no family left here, my classmates hate me, I already graduated, and you guys know I’m alive. I have the Miracle Box, which has the horse miraculous meaning I can stay in touch with you guys. You can give a statement I’m retiring as Ladybug and everything will... be.. fine,” she said, crying into Luka’s shoulder. 

“Mari, don’t make a decision tonight, at least wait till we can collect everything to give to you and after the funeral,” Adrien reasoned walking to the side to hug her, Chloe and Luka. 

“You can wear a mask, black wig, and grey contacts and say you’re a cousin or something,” Kagami said, finishing the group hug. 

“Chloe, Honey?” came a knock and call from the other side of the door.

“Mar, Luka, Adrien get in the closet,” Chloe whispered all breaking away and pushing them towards the door. 

“Why us?” Adrien asked as he stuck his hand out to stop the door.

“No boys in my room without daddy’s knowledge,” Chloe said, running back towards Kagami. 

“Come in,” Kagami called. 

“Ummm... Chloe, Kagami, your friend's house had a fire tonight and neither of her parents or Marinette made it out,” Mayor Bourgeois said, slowly. 

“No.. No! That can’t be true! She was just supposed to grab something. She said she would be right back!” Chloe screamed, falling to the ground Kagami following to rub her back and cry. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. The funeral will be held next week,” he said before leaving. 

“Nice acting Chlo,” Luka said, stepping out of the closet with Adrien and Mari following shortly behind. 

“Can we get changed, eat lots of ice cream, watch movies, and do a spa night,” Marinette whispered, hugging Adrien this time. 

“Of course Buginette, I’m going to jump home and grab some stuff. You’ll probably need to do the same, Luka,” Adrien said, calling his transformation then jumped out the window with Luka jumping out not even a minute later. 

The girls got changed, prepared the spa stuff including facials, nail polish, and a hair mask. They want to pamper themselves after being sad. 

When the boys arrived the girls were in their comfy pajamas and face masks, now they were working on mannies and peddies. Marinette’s were already done and drying. 

They decided on some wholesome Disney movies. They watched some of the Disney Princesses, everyone but Adrien agreeing that he is Rapunzel’s twin. They fell asleep during Snow White and stay curled up with each other till morning. 

-------------------------

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64 @thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428

[smokahuntis]

Huc

Huc

Pairing : Anakin Skywalker x Sith! Reader (part 2)

Warnings: violence, mentions of death, blood, flashbacks, angst, there will be a part 3

Summery: The Jedi council find out about (y/n)’s turn to the dark side, and trust Anakin to bring her back.

Authors note: I don’t like this chapter 🤷🏻‍♀️

Anakin dressed and left the room in a hurry, not realizing how early it was, he found Masters Kenobi, Windu, and yoda in the great hall quickly, they all sensed his unease. Kenobi was the first to speak moving towards him worriedly.

“What is it, Anakin?” He asked his young apprentice.

“It’s (y/n), she’s gone...” he said looking at them, master Windus face dropping, Anakin could practically see his heart drop at the mention of his apprentices disappearance. Yoda turned to him and hummed seeing his face.

“You know her best Master Windu, where would she have gone?” yoda asked looking at the older Jedi. Who shook his head, he blamed himself for this, he saw it coming yet he could not stop it.

“I believe she’s turned to the dark side, master.” Anakin said, causing yoda to sigh and nod, he saw it coming as well but he did not think it would be so soon. Obi-wan looked at him and sighed.

“You’re sure?” He asked concern laced his voice, as he knew what this meant.

“Tell us everything, young skywalker.” Windu said pulling himself back together as they entered the council chambers.

—

After Anakin explained everything... well mostly everything, a search for her and her master had been set out, being led by Kenobi and Anakin. They had no knew who her master could have been or how she was found by him, and Windus favorite question, what made her turn. She was always so quiet and calm, she peaceful when she wasn’t in battle. She was the perfect jedi, or at least he thought.

They’d spent weeks trying to find her and ended up coming to nothing, every thing they thought they knew, everything Anakin swore he knew, was a lie. So when the trail went cold and it seemed as tho she left the galaxy, they gave up. Finding leads with General Grievous instead, and making their way to Utapau in search for him.

Months had past since (y/n) left and they needed to move on, specially since knowing where grievous was could help find (y/n), a search Anakin secretly never gave up on. He had high hopes she would be on Utapau if things worked how he and Obi-Wan thought they were. But as they stood hidden uncle the meeting General Grievous was having she was not there, not even a sign of her.

“What should we do master?” Anakin asked quietly as they watched the meeting, General Grievous walked back and forth telling them all they would be heading to Mustafar, for safety.

“Wait till everyone leaves, we will have better chances. Then we will attack the General.” He said looking at a Anakin then back at the large group of people and droids. The meeting continued for a few more minutes and just as everyone was about to leave, standing up, they could hear a door open and everyone got back into their seats sitting with much better posture then before. Someone important entered the room and Anakin and Obi-Wan couldn’t believe their eyes.

She wore all black, with a caper flowing behind her. Her hair was much longer then he remembered and he focused on the sounds her heels made as they clicked on the floor, he couldn’t see her face but she even made Grievous stiffen up, he honestly wondered if this was really the girl he knew, if this was the girl he thought he loved.

“Darth Sirphona...” General Grievous said bowing his head slightly towards her. Once her and her guards reached his side they lowered their weapons not seeing him as a threat to her.

“General Grievous, “ she looked him up and down, the stern look that coated her face sent fear threw him. Her could tell what was about to happen, she raised her hand, shifting the force around the Generals throat. Even tho he was a droid she was choking him, slowly shutting down his mechanical being. “You failed me...” she said and he reached up grasping at nothing to try and loosen the bonds she put around him. “I asked you for one simple thing and you let it escape!” She yelled, everyone in the room radiating fear as her voice boomed.

“I-I’m sorry I was ca-caug-“ she threw him back and almost all of his droids raised their weapons at her.

“You are sorry for nothing! I asked you to bring him to me and you don’t even know where he is!” She yelled and Anakin looked at Obi-Wan

“ she’s the one who wanted the Chancellor....” he said looking his master. Obi-wan nodded in surprise, he thought he knew her, this wasn’t her.

“H-He’s strong, my lord.” He said standing back up, the droids lowering their weapons. She rolled her eyes, sensing his presence, she smiled.

“Yes... and you are about to see how strong.” She smirk and looked over her shoulder, her yellow eyes standing out like never before. “Oh Anakin, you think you can hide from me?”

It took him by surprise, him and Obi-Wan both stood jumping down onto the floor of the room, the councilors fled the room quickly to go to Mustafar. Leaving droids, General Grievous and ‘Darth Sirphona’. Obi-Wan nodded getting a small salute, he was never good in awkward situations like this.

“Hello there!” He said smiling, and giving a nod, he almost caused (y/n) to chuckle at his response, no one really caught it but Anakin, that crack in her act.

“General Kenobi...” Grievous said, the droids moving away from them understanding that Grievous wants to fight kenobi. Anakin’s eyes trailed (y/n)’s figure as he and Obi-Wan let their robes fall to the floor ready to fight. She rolled her eyes and let her cape fall to the metal floor of the room, exposing the tight black uniform she wore under it. It caught his attention more then it should have, maybe that was the point, the way the silver belt wrapped around her waist perfectly, the way the fabric wrapped around her neck but not her shoulders. She was stunning even like this, but he knew if he became distracted by this he wouldn’t make it.

“I think you know where this is going, my lord.” Grievous said looking down at her.

“Of course I do, “ she replied moving her hand out, her lightsaber flying into it from the waist of one of her guards. “But I came prepared.” She finished as the double sided blade lit up red in her hands, sparking the interest and instinct of the Jedi’s who instantly drew their weapons.

“Skywalker is mine.” She days and the fighting began, she lunged at snaking being fought of easily, he knew her attacks like the back of his hand, however he did not know her weapon. It was a red burning rod of fight coming from the small handle that she moved so skillfully.

Obi-wan got separated from Anakin as they fought skillfully against the enemy, clashing and hitting each other. Anakin didn’t even notice how far away Obi-Wan had become until he was near the edge of the over look with (y/n). (Y/n) and Anakin fought against each other like they’d been doing it their whole life, not a single his was landed onto the others skin so far, they knew how to counter act each other quickly. Knew how to break away.

“Why are you doing this?!” He said as their lightsabers met in a fit of light in front of their faces. He could see it in her eyes, the change, the fury, the power she held.

“I have the whole galaxy at my finger tips as a jedi...” she said turning quickly away from him standing away protectively. “Yet I could not have the few things I wanted...”

“And what are those?” He asked as the two slowly circled each other.

“What everybody wants, Anakin.” She said as her lightsaber met his again. “Power” and again. “Freedom” and again, this time gripping his collar, making Anakin realize where he stood. “And to be able to love without consequence...” she let go of his collar and he dropped down off the overlook. She stood over the edge watching him fall to his death, but it was in that moment something clicked in her and she jumped after him.

She watched as his lightsaber activated again stabbing threw his side as he was met with the hard grown of the pit, she landed on her feet easily, snapping her lightsaber back onto her side as she ran to him.

“Anakin!” She said kneeling beside him using a rock to prop him up, he was barley breathing and had a large wound on his side from the lightsaber, by the looks he wasn’t going to make it, but she wasn’t about to let that happen. His eyes started to fall heavy and he moved his hand to grip hers as tightly as he could. “I’m so sorry...” she said, he could almost see the yellow leave her eyes as she said it, she meant it. It reminded him of the first time she had actually hurt him in training.

“I’ve been thinking!” She said as she sat next to Anakin, her hair braided neatly as always, her white outfit clean as if it was just made.

“About?” He said smiling at her.

“What if we use the beskar staffs?” She said and he raised his eyebrows expecting something much different.

“Can you handle the beskar staffs?” He asked causing her to scoff and cross her arms looking at him.

“Can you?” She said making him chuckle.

“Let’s find out.” He said taking her hand and going to the court yard.

He grabbed an older staff that has Ancient writings on it, while hers had the markings of the Jedi, it almost shined in her small hands when she picked it up, or so he thought. They got into their passions and readied themselves.

“Don’t go easy on me, Skywalker ” she said causing him to chuckle and shake his head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, (y/l/n)” he said and they started, rough and quick like always, it took them a second to get use to the staffs since they were much heavier then the ones they normally used. Everything was normal and fine once they knew how to handle them.

That was until she spun holding the staff out, as it would have hit his ribs if he didn’t block it, which he did. But ones the staffs hit into each other, hers lit up and blew a blast of force out cashing him to fly back against the wall. She dropped the beskar rod instantly and ran over to him falling to the floor next to him.

“Anakin! I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry...” she moved her hand pushing hair from his face, he groaned trying to sit up. She moved her hand over his chest, tearing at the robes to expose any wounds. Once they opened up showing his toned chest, it also showed rough bruising on his ribs almost instantly. She could feel her eyes water as she saw the damage she did to him.

“Anakin...” she said but didn’t get to continue because he cut her off.

“It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” He said grabbing her hand the rested on his bare chest, it was the first time he’d made any real contact other then her hand. It was the first time he knew he wanted her in ways he knew he wasn’t aloud.

Her hand came to rest on the wound he held on his side. His heart raced with the fear of her next most but his eyes wouldn’t stay opened to watch it. Everything went dark.

Her hand moved over the wound and she closed her eyes trying to focus everything she could on him, every bit of the force that flowed threw her, she gave it to him. She gave him everything, knowing he would have done the same for her.

“Come on Anakin...” she said closing her eyes feeling tears leave them. He slipped further into darkness remembering his time with her while he could.

“She should be back by now...” Anakin said looking at Obi-Wan, who shook his head and looked at his Padawan.

“You have become infatuated with this girl Anakin.”

“I have not! She’s my friend, master.” He said looking at his master, just as a ship arrived, landing soundly into the docking bay.

Soon master Windu exited but not (y/n) it was the first time he had felt real worry for her, Obi-wan could sense his unease as Anakin moved towards the ship, ready to run in. But she came out, dressed in a long white dress with silver belt, her hair braided on the sides. She was stunning.

“(Y/n)...” he said running towards her picking her up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry I’m late Anakin.” She smiled hugging back looking at him, he pulled away seeing the blood on her head and ear.

“What happened?” He said moving his hand over it, the leather glove wiping away the blood.

“It’s nothing, Anakin, I’m fine.” She smiled and started walking taking him with her. “Let’s go to the med bay.” She said, and he thought.

‘I’d follow you anywhere’

(Y/n) had began to become weak because of the power she was using to heal him. She almost passed out when he finally opened his eyes and gasped for air. His eyes meeting hers in a hurry, a smile ran over his face and he grabbed hers looking at her.

“(Y/n)...” he said and she smiled before he pulled her into a kiss. He could feel everything with that kiss, the anger, the passion, everything he thought wasn’t real. Everything that he thought a jedi couldn’t feel. Everything he wanted to never end, everything being a jedi would cost him. As they pulled away from the kiss, holding each other’s faces they smiled.

Then she felt it, the pain run threw her, course threw her like a thousand lightsabers, her grip on his face became more forceful, to hold herself up. His hands wrapped around her feeling the pain as her body fell back onto the the ground of the pit. Her eyes closed and she seemed almost peaceful. Then he remembered again.

‘I’d follow you anywhere’

Tag list: @jediminddicks1000 @hxldmxdxwn @monamourani @killerkb123

[pergaias]

soon we’ll be home ; pt. i

umm here i am with more writing ? 

here’s a short story i wrote based off of almost home by mxmtoon, innocent by taylor swift, and never grow up by taylor swift ; um, i personally adore it - maybe i’m just biased, but i love the emotions and descriptions in this :))

i hope you love it as much as i do !

word count ; 2470

When I was eleven years old, all I wanted to do was grow up.

They told me that I wouldn’t want to - being a child is … it’s the time of your life, Mama promised. She wore spicy-sweet citrus-blossom perfume and always-smudged eyeglasses that hung on long beaded strings. Mama was glittering smiles and woolen cardigans and a tired, sad sort of energy, like coffee that had been left to go cold.

Mama made a lot of empty promises.

And because of it, all I wanted was to grow. To me, growing up meant laughing with friends, going to bed past midnight, driving in a bright-red sedan - eleven-year-old me had an extensive vocabulary, even if I didn’t know how to properly apply it - kissing boys and wearing dresses and lipstick. Things that I couldn’t have back then. Things that I thought were only attainable if I was grown. 

Why - why did I want it?

The coffee shop was filled with a droning buzz, the hum of university students up too late with too much caffeine in their systems. There was nobody coming to place orders, so I was leaning on my elbow on the bar, the smell of coffee and caramel syrup thick in my nostrils. No shouts of Emmie! As my friends - if they could be called that - barged in, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, scarves caught with snow.

Growing up had hurt. The realization that I wasn’t a child, that there was no place of retreat that I could go back to, that no one would comfort me or stroke my hair or hold me as I cried myself to sleep. It was easier in my lunch box days - when I believed in everything.

And everybody believed in me. 

There was a tinkling, and the coffee shop doors open. My eyes snapped wide, and a group of people sauntered to the counter, coats dusted with snow and cheeks high with color from the cold. Strangers in red and green and gold, stories in their own rights.

I wondered what they were waiting for - it was obviously something more than a hot cup of coffee on a late, snowy night.

A mocha for the girl, extra whip. Green tea for another girl, who was picking at her chipping gel nails. Americanos for the two boys who were holding hands. A peppermint special - sorry, love, pumpkin spice is still on the menu. Oh, yes, I’ll take that.

My hands shook as I wrote names and orders onto cardboard coffee cups, the scent of tea and coffee and spices almost overwhelming for a moment. Growing up was like Mama’s candied orange peels, mostly bitter but sweet if you looked for it.

And I - well, I was too tired to look for it.

Vega was in the back, her colorful highlights barely visible under a black knit cap. Vega had a septum piercing, a tattoo, and a girlfriend at home. She was the kind of person Mama - and Papa, for that matter - would have told me to stray away from on the street, but the kind of person I secretly admired nonetheless. 

Curvy, brunette Emerson Quinn-Whitley, the girl with the fake friends and shattered dreams and eyes the color of the coffee she made for minimum wage on a late shift, admiring an almost-delicate petite girl who did what she wanted when she wanted it, a girl with dyed hair and emotionless, luminous fox’s eyes, lips stained red with the blood of her conquests.

I shook the thought away. Vega was nice enough - Asian American, scholarship, hard worker, girlfriend at home, etcetera etcetera. I handed her the orders and leaned on my elbow again, my backpack full of shattered dreams, sleepless nights, and the sexy promise of an all-nighter.

Vega filled the orders, her thinly-plucked brows pressed tightly together in concentration as she drizzled something onto another something. The thought of why why why why why nagged me almost as much as the homework did. Why did I want to grow up? Why did I?

Because you were impatient, a sour part of my conscience nagged. Because you hated the rules your mother imposed on you, reminded another. Because you were waiting for Neverland, a different part sighed. A wistful picture painted behind my eyelids of a castle waiting for me to be queen, which slipped away like a tear down a cheek.

They didn’t tell you that all the love you give might not be enough. Was it when I had that epiphany that I grew up? A thousand possible moments, snapshots, memories, tinted dark like Polaroid photos. 

The chatter in the room crescendoed as Vega finished with the group’s drinks, her usually brooding expression firmly in place as she pressed a pumpkin-spice-not-peppermint-mocha into a girl’s mittened hands and shooed her out the door.

Bad vibes, Vega mouthed at me, hazel eyes twinkling. Vega liked witchy things - crystals, detox tea, chunky jewelry and drapey black dresses. Vega had personality - you could see it on the rings on her hands, the swoop of her black, color-streaked bangs, the hand-painted night sky on her bookbag. 

I tapped my fingers against the counter, counting minutes - seconds - until . . . what? Would a prince drop waltz through the glass door and offer me his hand? Would a fleet of owls - no, crows - no, how about peacocks, those sound cool - appear out of nowhere with summons for me, the lost heir, who had family and promise and a story, far far away?

If I wanted to grow up, this wasn’t it. I didn’t want to sit on a high stool behind a cash register, the smell of burnt coffee pressing in on me, the insufferable buzz of students doing homework droning on over the music playing slow and low in the background?

Our other employee, an unpleasant dudebro who went by Albie - his name, I had discovered, was Alberto de la Cruz the fourteenth or something - had chosen today’s coffee shop playlist. I had no idea who he was trying to drive mad first with the rapping; Vega and I, who bitched about his taste in everything from music to cars to girls - and one time, interestingly, tomato sauce, or our customers. They came here for cool beans and caffeine and classic rock or indie music, not Billboard’s Top 100 Rap Failures.

“Almost closing time,” Vega remarked, idly brushing an eyelash off of her cheekbone. She was tired - I could see it in the hunch of her shoulder and the tone of her already-husky voice.

I turned away from her as my head rushed to make excuses as to why I noticed that. Vega is dark chocolate and spellbooks, old bookstores and flickering chandeliers. 

“Yeah,” I said, my voice as droning as it was tired. “If coffee could power me the way it powered them -” I gestured to the students starting to slowly pack up their laptops and notes, their hours of free wifi, heat, and shitty music coming to an end, “I would have foreseen sleep in my near future.”

Vega cackled. She didn’t have a laugh - she cackled, wheezed, snorted. It was equal parts entertaining and annoying, especially when you were working with scalding-hot espresso and your coworker started honking like a demented goose next to you.

“That was a good one, Quinn-Whitley,” she barked, a gleam in her eyes. She was emotionless when she made coffee, and only talked to me around closing time and during lunch. I liked to think that I was the only one who got to see this side of her - probably high, very very gay, and incredibly enthralling. Vega was a story that I wanted to read.

I half smiled, preemptively untying my coffee shop apron and haphazardly hanging it on a hook. As much as I disliked working at the coffee shop - which had, ironically, been a vaguely romantic, soft sort of fantasy when I was younger - it was comforting, in a way. Comforting in the way the smell of coffee brought you back to when you were nine and your mother had a mug curled in her hands, staring out the window as rain pattered on its panes.

The last of the coffee shop’s patrons gloomily filed out, coats turned up to block out the wind, and Vega and I silently closed up, making coffees for each other, muttering don’t tell Carney - Carney was the shop owner - pressing day-old muffins into each other’s hands, Vega rolling her eyes as I hastily stuffed another bite of pastry into my mouth.

Leaving the coffee shop was routine. I’d scuff my boots along the lightly-snowed-over pavement, Vega would put her headphones on and tune out the world, and I’d drag her out of the way if she veered into some poor unsuspecting soul’s way.

“Vega!” I exclaimed, dragging her across the street. Her eyes were closed, her dark-red lips moving along with the song, completely blissed out. Or maybe she was just that sleep deprived.

Vega and I had the same student housing building, but other than that, I knew nothing about her - not really, but I wasn’t a stalker-watcher-psychopath or anything - yet Vega wasn’t heading to the gothy, romantic brick building. I described too many things as ‘romantic’ nowadays.

Growing up had been romantic, too - the idea of being on my own, making my own decisions, getting taller and more voluptuous, as if my flat-chested boyishness of sixth grade was the root of all my problems. ( Spoiler alert, Younger Emmie - they weren’t. )

“Vega,” I said again, pulling at her coat sleeve. Her eyes were half-closed, her headphones firmly over her ears. I was getting exasperated - every night as we walked back, she zoned the world out. It was admirable - I was paranoid and hyperaware of everything around me, the opposite of slim, petite Vega in every way.

But she opened one of her luminous hazel eyes, lashes dark against her cheeks, and beckoned me forward. Towards the river.

“Come on, Emerson!” she laughed, and I was stunned. Vega Zhao was dark chocolate and mysterious smiles, dark loose dresses and the fringe of a woolen scarf. She didn’t laugh or smile wide or drag me down an icy street to an equally icy river.

“Vega - what?” I said weakly, still holding onto the sleeve of her crowlike coat. She rolled her eyes. Beckoned me again. Didn’t take her headphones off.

She had always been strange - the brooding, emotionless expression. The personality in her clothes and makeup and hair, but not in her unless we were on break. Vega was a mystery, a novel that was still being read.

And I think I had gotten to the plot twist.

She carefully clambered over the low stone wall over to the rocks that made up the riverbank, me a few moments behind her like a beanie-bedecked, anxious shadow. It was late, I was tired, my homework a constant thought in the back of my mind. 

Vega was taking her dark coat off now, revealing an equally dark shift dress over a short-sleeved white shirt. She slid her headphones off now, stuffed them into the coat pocket, reached for my hand. “Come on, Quinn-Whitley!” she repeated, as if she were inviting me to a bakery - or better, an alternate universe where my essays were already written - and not to an icy river.

“Vega,” I said hesitantly, trying not to blush as she took my hand. “What - what’s going on?”

Vega’s eyes only glowed, luminous hazel, like the harvest moon at its peak. 

“You don’t believe in fairy tales, do you, Emerson Quinn-Whitley?” she said, her husky voice taking on a strangely melodic quality.

“What did fairy tales do for me in the end?” I snapped, my voice surprisingly sharp. There was bitterness behind that statement, so much that my tongue could almost taste it. My once-golden dreams crumbling away when Mama left, when Papa’s hand made a claw on my shoulder. When nights reading in bed dissolved into studying in tears, screaming into my textbooks because I wasn’t good enough.

Vega’s eyes darkened, almost sadly. And then she waved her hand over the ice-frozen river and stepped in. Winked at me, held out her slender hand invitingly, and disappeared.

“VEGA!” I screamed, reaching out. But it was like she was there and gone, like she’d slipped away in a moment in time. Somehow, between blinks or heartbeats or breaths, she simply vanished. 

The water still glowed where she stepped in, gold and amber and almost warm. Emerson, Emerson, Emmie! it seemed to call. My mother’s voice on the day of the first frost, Emmie, I can smell the pumpkin spice in the air! My father’s gruff baritone, grudgingly admitting Emerson, you - you did well.

And then Vega. Quinn-Whitley. Step in the goddamn portal. Live a little, Emerson.

I stepped back from the shimmering water, fear holding me back and fatigue making me question everything in front of me. 

Do you believe in magic?

You don’t believe in fairytales, do you?

Soon we’ll be home, Emmie. Soon we’ll be home.

A cacophony of voices. Everyone I had ever loved, gone. All gone. Were they ghosts? Was this river a swirling cumulation of every broken dream, every shattered hope, every happy memory that faded in time like the fading of bright autumn leaves?

Soon we’ll be home.

But where was home, my home? I was Emerson Quinn-Whitley with the divorced parents, the mother who was glittering smiles and woolen cardigans and coffee left to go cold, the father who was the smell of brandy and ice-chip eyes and bear hugs that filled you up like hot cocoa. I lived at a gothic-romantic dorm with three roommates and a mountain of homework. Where was home?

I didn’t know that growing up would come and meet me. Wishing on a star, waiting for a glorious daydream to take me away into its world of glittering gowns and sequinned smiles, a world where all my worries melted away.

I crept closer to the patch of water where Vega vanished, and first it was like a mirror - my round face with its worried eyes and smattering of freckles - and then like a birds-eye view of some other place. Vega in her white shirt and black dress, trees with leaves the color of pumpkin and spice. 

Behind me, a group of drunken strangers passed the river, wearing red and green and gold. I wondered what they were waiting for - a shooting star, a cab driver to take them away?

What was I waiting for? I liked to think that I’d grown away from the fairy tales that I had lived by when I was a child. But maybe everyone had to be a child sometimes.

I took a deep breath, briefly closed my eyes, and stepped in. 

Soon we’ll be home. 

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Undercover Lover prt 11

11

Eren seemed much better than when Hannes had wheeled him away. Then again, when you’ve hit the bottom, it’s hard to go any further down. Apologetic, Eren had wanted to call a taxi, Levi “bullying” him into getting into the “shitty car, before he had Hannes lock him up overnight”. Almost immediately Eren passed out in the passenger seat, snoring softly as Levi drove him across town and back to his apartment, trying to act like his alpha wasn’t secretly pleased at the thought of having Eren around. Hannes had given him one little yellow bottle of pills for Eren to take three times a day over the next five days. Eren’s colour somewhat back to normal, though the drowsiness remained and made it hard to get the brat out of his damn car and into the building.

Unlike Eren, Levi’s apartment was in a good neighbourhood. No junk cars, or car parts, lay scattered around. No dodgy painting, and most importantly, no dodgy shitty stairs to climb. The alpha had worked hard to get his shit together. The apartment chosen for its location and the fact that the building manager actually kept up with the upkeep. Everything he had he’d poured into finding a suitable address where he’d no longer have to fight and scrape for what he wanted. Fighting brought the cash in, yet so did work, and he’d never been one to spend frivolously.

Unlocking the door, Levi supported Eren inside. His own apartment decorated very minimalisticly, though that was by choice and not by budget constraints. Everything he owned served it’s purpose. Guiding Eren in, he lowered the beta down onto the sofa, Eren letting himself flip sideways like a child

“No feet on the sofa. Not with those shitty boots on”

Groaning at him, Eren tried to sit himself back up, Levi mentally sighing

“I’ll do it. Don’t even think about puking on my sofa, you shitty brat”

“I’m sorry. I can go home...”

The beta’s voice was low and rasping, Eren was in no state to be left alone

“And die? Shut up and let me get your boots”

“I shouldn’t be here...”

“No. If you’d actually listened to what you were told, you wouldn’t be so damn sick”

Sighing at him, Eren moved his leg as Levi tried to take his boot off him. He wasn’t playing this damn game with a grown man

“Do you ever get tired of being right?”

“Do you ever get tired of being so damn tall?”

“At least I know when it’s raining before you do”

Jerking Eren’s leg solidly, Levi started on his laces. The beta getting the message

“Okay. Okay. I’ll shut up. I’m sorry I caused you all this inconvenience”

“Tch. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have blown up at you this morning”

“I wanted to apologise to you, but I drank your tea”

Getting Eren’s first boot off, Levi started on the second, aware he was once again going to have to touch Eren’s gross socks

“You drank my tea?”

“Ordered it at the cafe without thinking... Wanted to try and understand you...”

A rush of affection for the man nearly had Levi falling on his arse. What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

“And?”

“You need more sugar in your diet”

Snorting, Levi shook his head. Eren seemed completely out of it, how he managed to make quips while looking like death warmed up, Levi didn’t know

“Is that so?”

“It was so bitter... you’re not bitter... I’m really sorry I drank your tea”

“You can buy me another one next time”

Getting Eren’s otherboot and sock off, Levi wanted to throw them off the balcony. The man could at least invest in better footwear

“Okay... I think I’m going to pass out now”

“Fine, but don’t even think about expiring on my sofa”

“I won’t get my death germs on your sofa... Thank you... Levi”

He was not a teenage girl. He did not get a thrill at Eren saying his name. None at all. No weird warmth in his chest. None of that. That was not for him. Feelings were worse than germs. At least with germs you could shower them in disinfectant

“You’re welcome, Eren. Get some sleep”

“Still... sorry”

Eren always had to get the last damn word in... and always had to find a way to make a nuisance of himself. Within moments he’d dozed off... Levi then faced with getting the lanky shit up the sofa and covered with a blanket after fishing out Eren’s phone and keys... reminding him that Erwin should have messaged him back by now. God. The shitty lanky shit in front of him always found a way to get under his damn skin like some kind of Eren sized infection. Now he had him sleeping on his sofa with his filthy germs... and didn’t actually mind as much as he should have.

*

Waking with a low groan, Eren had had better days. Next to him something was clicking rhythmically, and the TV across from him was most definitely not his. Alarmed, and not remembering Levi taking him home, he went to shoot off the sofa, only for a firm hand to grab him by the shoulder and pull him back down

“Don’t move too fast. You’ll hurl all over the place and I’m not cleaning up”

“Wha...”

Slowly pieces came back to him. Eren’s face heating up as he let out another groan. Hannes... the bathroom... the emergency department... Levi...

“I’m sorry”

“Tch. You wake up and the first thing you do is try and fucking bolt... then you apologise. You’re definitely a strange one”

“Sorry. Fuck. You took me the hospital, right?”

“Yep. Some shitty dumbarse couldn’t recognise he had an infection, no, he had to go and collapse at work”

Infection? No... not an infection... Oh... Hannes must have covered for him with Levi

“In my defence, nothing seemed infected”

“In your defence, you’re a moron”

That was well deserved. Shit... Every breath he took in he could smell Levi. This was probably the worst place he could be right now given the real reason he’d ended up in hospital was his body’s inability to cope with his dynamics shifting for the first time in his life

“I’ll... get out of your hair. I must have been a pain in the arse”

“You’re not going anywhere tonight. Food. Shower. Shit. Whatever. I’ll drop you home on the way to work tomorrow”

No. He had to go to work

“I can work”

“You’re a stubborn arsehole, you know that, right? Doctor’s orders, brat. Hannes said you weren’t to be alone tonight. Given you went and collapsed with a shitty fever, he probably has a point”

No.... No. He really couldn’t be around Levi. If his dynamic shifted further... If his scent... They’d already fucked

“I’ll be okay...”

“Shut the fuck up already. You and me need to have a talk”

Shit. Did Levi know? Hannes. No. Hannes wouldn’t have told him... Hannes didn’t know the full story to tell. Something scratched at the back of his mind, the feeling uncomfortable as his whole mood kind of fell, a whine trying to escape as Eren cleared his throat

“We do?”

“Yeah, we do. But first you need food and to brush your damn teeth. I can smell your stink from up here”

Maybe it was slightly wrong, but bossy Levi was kind of... hot. The moment the thought crossed his mind, Eren stomped it down firmly. He wasn’t a lovestruck teen. He wasn’t even a real omega. He’d been a beta that wasn’t a whole beta for his life. He didn’t have that second dynamic looking out for him and offering advice on how to handle things around him. Everything felt confusing as fuck and it was Hannes’s fault for putting this all back on Levi. His dynamic had started shifting after he’d met Levi. It possibly could relate to one of Levi’s friends, but he wouldn’t have continued to experience symptoms of it had.

“Then how about you show me around already? Let’s see how many dust bunnies you’ve missed”

Smacking him on the side of the head, Eren groaned yet again

“If there’s any fucking dust around it’s your fault for taking up my whole damn day”

“Don’t snark at me. It’s not my fault. You could have left me there”

“No one deserves to be on that shitty filthy floor”

“I’m glad I rate above a “no one” in your opinion”

“Tch. I wouldn’t be doing this for just anyone”

So he was a someone to Levi? Eren felt an almost rush of happiness at the idea, yet it wasn’t quite there at the same time. Trying to reach for the feeling, it evaporated away. Moving to sit up much slower this time, he wasn’t stopped by Levi, who turned out to be busy on his laptop, explaining the clicking he’d been doing. Quickly the alpha shut the lid, Eren feeling as if he’d interrupted something he wasn’t supposed to see.

A quick tour around the apartment later and a shower in Levi’s ridiculously clean bathroom, Eren dragged himself out to dining area. Levi in the middle of placing a second bowl on the table

“There you are. I thought you’d escaped down the shower drain”

“And fuck up all your hard work? This place is nice”

Levi clearly took care of things, unlike him who tried and got nowhere fast. Decorated with light wood furniture, and deep green, the place had a kind of foresty feel about it. Set up for the alpha, Levi seemed to have no room mate, nor did he care too. Everything screamed this was his space and you kept your mouth shut if you didn’t want to be booted out the door. It was so Levi that Eren almost enjoyed being out of place

“I bet you clogged the drain with that long hair of yours”

Instead of lecturing him, Levi just sighed at the end of the sentence

“Probably. I’m sorry if I have... Are you sure you want me here?”

“You’re here and it’s fine. I made soup, so sit down and fucking eat something before you go collapsing again”

Right. He shouldn’t assume Levi cared more than outside how much he’d unconvinced him. Still queay, Eren wasn’t sure he’d keep anything down, not as long as his body kept betraying him and reacting to Levi’s presence

“Thanks... and thank you. I...”

“Can it, brat. If you apologise one more time, or thank me again, I’m going to punch you”

Right... yep. He was being a nuisances. He was good at that... Forcing a thin smile to his lips, Eren nodded

“Okay, let eat”

[marshmallow-phd]

Lies Untold

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: For generations, your family has been the protectors of mankind. You were considered one of the best and due to that reputation, you were sent on what could be the most important mission for the organization. Going under cover in a college to sniff out a particularly large and threatening wolf pack seemed easy enough. But when you meet one of the members, everything you’ve known since birth will be overturned and your loyalty to your family and heritage will be tested.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew that you shouldn’t. And you couldn’t even say you knew it deep down because the anguish and fight was right there on the surface of your heart.

All week, you’d been trying to figure out a way to avoid this, to come up with another plan that didn’t involve anyone getting hurt, but you came up empty. So there you were, sitting up in that tree, your bow as heavy as lead in your hand.

From where you were perched, you could still see the rental that you had parked on the side of the road. After the deed was done, you’d need a quick getaway. You were also secretly hoping that they wouldn’t come this close to the edge of the forest.

An hour or so had gone by without any sign of them. While you were relieved, you were also anxious. Over and over, you told yourself that it was better that you did this rather than Johnny showing up. It was a lie, of course. This wasn’t any better, not really.

You felt like a fraud. Like there were two different versions of you walking around, inhabiting the same body. There was the one you’d always known, the one who was loyal to her family and the organization. And then there was the new you, the one who’d grown stronger after perhaps living deep inside you in the dark for so long. That version questioned everything she’d ever been taught, all for the sake of a wolf. You didn’t know which one was real and which one was fake.

Rebellion was not in your nature. You always stayed in line, obeyed every order without question, blindly trusting your leadership, who also happened to be your father. You’d never been secluded from the real world, but coming out here on your own, you felt like you were really seeing it for the first time. Or maybe just a different angle of it.

A rustling reached your eyes, pulling you from your internal monologue and making you face your immediate reality again. One last time, you inspected the arrowhead. You watched as the thick, molasses-like liquid slid down the metal edges. It was a special concoction, rarely ever used by the hunters due to its potency. Even humans were vulnerable to the poison living in it, a mix of wolfsbane and other toxins, if it ever reached the bloodstream. But it wasn’t a quick death, slow as it made its way through the body. You hoped that, since you put only the tiniest drops on the arrow, no one would come out seriously harmed after this. Especially if they got to the book in time.

The crunching of leaves and dirt grew louder. Docking the arrow, you brought the long-range scope up to your eye and searched the area in front of you. A small group of the wolves were running together, playfully snapping at each other and seemingly enjoying themselves a hundred yards or so away. Two of the wolves were pure white, one as black as coal, and another who sported a beige coat that felt a little ordinary when mixed in with the others.

Since the beige wolf stood a little apart from the others, you lined your sight up. You just wanted to graze him, not cause any permanent damage. Taking one last deep breath, you hesitated, just for a moment, before letting the arrow slip through your fingers.

You didn’t wait to see if you’d hit your target. You couldn’t.

Jumping from the tree, you landed hard on the soil, rolling so you didn’t cause yourself any damage. You ran for the street where the car door was open and ready for you take off. The engine was still rumbling and after throwing your bow in the back of the vehicle, you sped off down the road, careful to still remain within the speed limit in the rare case you came across a police officer.

Back within city limits, you parked the car several blocks away, emptying the inside of anything that might identify you, even wiping the steering wheel clean and using a lint roller over all the seats. Then you just left it there. Maybe in a day or so, you’d return it.

As soon as you closed the door of your apartment behind you, your bow clattered down to the wooden floor.

What the hell have you done?

The weight of your actions bore down on you. As much as you wish you could, you couldn’t take it back. Was that really the better option? Maybe you should have just turned yourself over to the pack, let them kill you since that was probably their plan with you anyway once you were discovered.

Storming into your bedroom, you ripped the board out from your closet, tearing the photographs and pieces of paper from their thumbnails keeping them to the cork. You threw the pieces everywhere. It was all you could do to take out your anger and frustration at the corner you were backed into. Surrounded by the hours of work and stalking you had done since arriving here, you collapsed down to your knees, bent over with only your palms on the carpet keeping you up. Luhan’s face haunted your mind, his smile, his laugh, the soft way he looked at you. Once he discovered what you’ve done, he would hate you. And that was the heaviest consequence of them all.

**

It had been a peaceful day, a calm morning. Almost everyone was out of the house, leaving Luhan alone with his thoughts. He hadn’t seen you since he left your apartment. Each time he went to work, he’d hoped that you would show up randomly with an answer, but each time he went home disappointed.

Eyes staring down at the table in the breakfast booth, he traced the outline of your tattoo over and over again on the shiny wood. Throughout the entire course of the night the two of you spent together, you never took off the thick leather cuff that covered up your mark. He considered just telling you that he knew what you were. Maybe that would help you. Or maybe it would just make things worse.

He’d promised to give you space, so he would. Even if it was torture to him.

“What are you drawing?”

Luhan nearly jumped out of his seat at the question. Sehun slid into the seat across from him, a curious frown pinching his face.

Wiping the table as if that would erase the nonexistent doodle, Luhan replied, “Just nonsense. Nothing, really.” He narrowed his eyes at the younger wolf. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Sehun smirked. “Canceled. Professor sent out an email this morning. Probably has a hangover or something.”

Laughing, Luhan shook his head. “Or more likely, he’s just sick. The cold’s going around.”

“No, not as interesting.” Sehun leaned back, sighing. “So, what are you up to today?”

“I don’t know,” Luhan replied with a shrug. “I don’t work tonight so there’s not much on my calendar.”

“Since when do you not work Friday nights?”

“I traded with Ron,” he explained. And he was a bit thankful for it. He was too distracted to be able to handle the crowd that was to be expected tonight. He wasn’t hurting for cash so he might as well give the shift to someone who had rent to pay.

Sehun had his thinking face on and that usually meant trouble. “Well, Tao’s busy, but Minseok and Kyungsoo are home – without their mates, for once. Why don’t we all go for a run?”

A run? Yeah. That sounded like a good idea.

At Luhan’s nodded agreement, Sehun slapped the table and jumped up, running out of the kitchen excitedly. Releasing a sigh, Luhan headed out for the backyard, already pulling his shirt over his head. When the other three were outside and ready to go, they all took off, racing through the forest at high speed. None of them were focused on where they were headed, no real direction or destination in mind. They mostly just egged each other on, getting rowdier and more rambunctious as they went along. Luhan was enjoying himself, not acting like the oldest and just being loose. Kyungsoo stayed on the edge as he ran alongside them, keeping his distance but clearly laughing at their actions.

Wait! Minseok yelled, making them all slow down.

What is it? Luhan perked up his ears, searching for something the beige wolf might have heard.

We’re getting close to the edge, he explained. We should double back before someone accidentally sees us.

You’re ri- argh!

Sehun had taken the advantage of Luhan being distracted to pounce, getting a good nip at his neck. Momentarily ignoring the warning given by Minseok, Luhan turned to counterattack. Sehun was, unfortunately, a bit bigger than Luhan, giving him the slight advantage. The others just stood there and laughed at the two white wolves who were blurring into one.

A whistling sound flew the air, making them stop. But it was too late.

An arrow had sliced through Minseok’s back, making him howl in pain. All four of them shifted back into human form. For a moment, they were all too shocked to do anything besides stare at Minseok lying on the ground as he groaned from the pain, a long red streak oozing blood running diagonally across his back.

“Get him back to the house!” Kyungsoo yelled. Turning on his feet, he started running in the direction that the arrow came from.

Hauling Minseok up, Sehun carried him on his back as they headed back to the house as fast as their human forms could take them. From the way Sehun had to hold onto the older wolf, Minseok was too weak to stay on if they shifted back to wolves.

By a miracle, Yixing was standing in the kitchen and talking to Ming as he cooked a meal for the two of them.

“Oh my god!” Ming yelped as soon as they stumbled into the house.

“What happened?” Yixing ran to them to help Sehun lay Minseok face down on the kitchen table.

“I don’t know,” Sehun growled, his fist curling at his side. “The arrow came out of nowhere. Kyungsoo went to see if he could find the shooter. It had to be that hunter the other pack talked about.”

Yixing’s face scrunched into a fierce expression. “Ming-”

“Already on it!” his mate yelled from halfway up the stairs. She came back less than a minute later, first aid kit built especially for werewolves in hand.

“I’ll call Junmyeon and Kris,” Sehun offered thickly. He was shaking violently which explained why he went into the backyard after swiping his jeans from the back of the booth. His cellphone was in his pocket, but the last thing Yixing needed right now was for him to lose it and shift right there in the kitchen. Sehun cared deeply about all his brothers and seeing Minseok whimpering in pain there on the table was hard on them all.

“It’s festering,” Yixing whispered, harsh lines forming on his forehead. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Will he be okay?” Luhan asked desperately. He needed Minseok to be okay. His brother had to come out of this alright.

Yixing didn’t look at him as he sighed. “I don’t know.”

Sehun came back inside, phone in hand and dressed once again. He’d calmed down enough to stop shaking. He held the cell out to Yixing, telling him in a monotone voice, “Junmyeon wants to talk to you.”

Yixing nodded, taking the cell right away. “Yes, Junmyeon?”

If Luhan had been concentrating, he would have been able to hear both sides of the conversation. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t focus on Yixing’s words either. Because he knew the reason Minseok was in so much pain.

You.

Had he been wrong to protect you? Should he have told his pack the truth from the very beginning? Could this had been avoided if he was honest? With anyone?

Yixing hung up and handed the phone back to Sehun. “Junmyeon is picking up the book with Kris and then they’ll break the speed limit to get here. Until then, I’ll try to clean the wound as best as I can.”

The book. The book.

Luhan remembered seeing a few notes on your board regarding the museum and then there was the time he found you leaving the back rooms, barely catching you on the steps. It was all piecing together in his mind.

Is that what you were after this whole time?

Kyungsoo came back just then, his face blank as he stared at Minseok.

“Did you find them?” Sehun asked, eagerness in his voice. It was frightful tone, even putting Luhan on edge.  

Kyungsoo shook his head. “No. They were long gone. But I brought this back.” He held up the arrow, red blood painting the head, covering up the silver metal underneath.

“That will help to figure out what’s in Minseok’s system once Junmyeon arrives with the book.” Yixing took the arrow, inspecting it closely.

Not saying a word to the others, Luhan grabbed his clothes and tore out of there, running out the front door and passed the garage. He didn’t even bother with his car, just pulling on his shorts and shirt as he headed for the woods. He had too much anger riling up inside. The car would be faster, but he couldn’t drive in this condition.

When he finally broke through the trees into city limits, he was coated in sweat and breathing heavily, but he still didn’t slow down. Luhan tried his best to avoid knocking people over on the sidewalk as he thought back to the way to your apartment from the bar. It was easy enough to find once he retraced his steps. He slammed his fist against the door hard, over and over again, not caring about your neighbors in the slightest.

You opened the door and Luhan shoved his way inside. Taking in your face, Luhan was able to calm down a few notches, at least enough to stop shaking and even out his breathing. Your eyes were red and tear stains were visible all over your cheeks. From where he stood, he could the disaster that was was your bedroom through the open door, paper strewn everywhere and the corkboard now broken in half.

Swallowing thickly, Luhan glared at you, feeling his own eyes prickling with growing tears. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Unable to answer him verbally or even meet his eye, you nodded.

Luhan growled, low and elongated. “Why?”

“Because,” you whispered, your voice coming out unsteadily, “it was either that or let someone sadistic come and torture you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“We can take care of ourselves!” he roared. “How was hurting Minseok the only way to stop that?”

No longer meek or afraid, you yelled back, “I was ordered to! It was maim one of you or risk more hunters showing up here and killing you! I didn’t have any other choice!”

“Then just lie and say you did it!”

“My father would find out! He always does!” You were gritting your teeth, water pooling in your eyes once again. “He’d bring more people here and just eradicate the pack! I don’t want you to die!”

Unable to find a response, Luhan just let out a yell, grabbing whatever was light and nearest him, throwing it across the room. You didn’t even flinch as the candle crashed against the floor.

“You know what I hate the most?” Luhan mumbled. “I want to hate you. I want to so badly. But I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” you told him softly. “Because I hate myself enough for the both of us.” It was your turn to yell wordlessly. “Why do I feel this way about you? I’m a hunter! You’re a wolf! I shouldn’t be feeling this way towards you! So why!”

“Because you’re my mate!”

Saying it out loud for the first time felt good. And it shouldn’t have. Not when it was in this situation, under these circumstances. But the confirmation made him feel lighter just by the slightest fraction.

“You’re supposed to say that I’m simply crazy.”

A laugh - freaking laugh - actually escaped Luhan. “I think we’re both crazy.”

You shook your head. “How long have you known? That I was a hunter?”

“Since that first night in the bar,” he admitted. Pointing to your wrist, he explained, “I saw your tattoo.”

You cursed. “Ametuer move.” After a pause, you asked, “Does anyone else know?”

“No. They don’t know about you at all, save that you’re Hae In’s cousin.” And for that, Luhan was grateful. Curious, he asked, “Does she know? Hae In?”

“No. She has no clue.”

He looked up at you, fearful of what could come next. “Will Minseok die? From whatever you poisoned him with?”

“As long as they get the book, from what we think, the cure should be in there. He still has several days before it’s gets too bad. I put the smallest dose possible on the arrow. I only meant to scrape him. If that happened, then he should be okay.” Out of nowhere, you began to sob, crumpling into yourself as you covered your face with your hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Pulling you into his chest, he rocked you back and forth. He shushed you gently as he cradled the back of your head. Comforting you like this felt strange, yet oddly right. He meant it when he said he wanted to hate you. The image of Minseok withering in pain on that table was burned in his memory. But you said he would be okay, so Luhan would trust you.

Then again, he’d done that once before.

[beepbeeprichiellc]

Please do a part 2 to the “I thought you loved me” I’m such a slut for angst and your writing is so good and wow it was incredible

You asked for it bruh.... Part 1

Eddie looked between the two snacks, chewing on his bottom lip while contemplating his choices. He had one job and was afraid he was going to make the wrong decision thus ruining the entire night. It was as stupid thought but it drilled itself so deep into his psyche that he was sure that if he bought M&M’s instead of Red Vines and it wasn’t the right choice then they would be literally thrown into his face as result. 

That was his anxiety speaking. 

It was something Eddie had always carried with him and at one point he actually had it under control but sometime in the past year the medication seemed to lose its effect thus allowing the anxious thoughts to creep back. It had been a rough life leading up to this moment, one full of self doubt and depleting thoughts but finally there was something to fill the void in his chest and the future seemed a bit brighter. 

Shrugging he decided to just buy both, figuring if either was wrong then he had the backup to give away. His phone buzzed in his pocket and Eddie didn’t need to look to know that it was Mike asking if he was on his way or not. Turning heel he sought out the cash register but was stopped by a scruffy figure standing right behind him. The sudden realization made Eddie jump, his heart leaping into his throat. 

“Hey Eds.” Richie said, awkwardly waving at him. 

“Holy fuck Richie, you scared the shit out of me.” He breathed, bringing the Red Vines to his chest to shush his pounding heart. “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to watch you debate between those two snacks.” 

It was supposed to be a joke but Eddie didn’t feel like indulging the poor excuse for laughter. Instead he looked at his ex-really looked at him for the first time in over a year. Eddie had heard through the grapevine that the girl that had gotten between the two of them had left him some time after they had started dating and now was engaged to be married. There had been an expectation for Richie to seek out Eddie after that but that had never happened and instead Eddie had endured thirteen months of learning to love himself rather than anyone else. It had nearly killed him. 

Apart of him was thankful for the radio silence. If Richie had come then he would have taken him back without so much as a second thought and allowed all of his actions to be forgiven. Eddie had grown without his boyfriend and now was standing at the forefront of a new life, that would have never been possible with Richie and for that he owed this man more than he could ever give. 

“H-how have you been Eds?” 

“Fantastic, is that what you want me to say?” Richie flinched at his harshness but Eddie wanted to cut all of the formalities and get to the point, he was already late as is. “Or terrible, which one are you fishing for?” 

“Come on, don’t be like that” Richie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m just trying to-” 

“I know.” Eddie mumbled, feeling a little guilty for his sudden reaction. “Sorry Richie, I just-I guess I wasn’t expecting to see you. It’s been so long that I figured you just moved away,” 

“I did.” He said, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “After being dumped I went back home for a bit, spent time with my parents and trying to get my shit together.” There was a pause like he was waiting for Eddie’s approval but when it never came he finished with, “I just got back a few weeks ago.” 

“Well welcome back I guess.” Eddie shrugged, “Look I’m running behind, it was nice to see you but I’ve gotta get going.” 

“I want to talk.” Richie blurted then, the mess of words sounding like a string of vulnerability. “I know that things didn’t end on good terms but fuck Eds, I miss you. I miss you so much and I never stopped thinking about-even when I was with her. I fucked up and if you just give me a chance, I know that I could-” 

“I’m seeing someone.” Eddie found himself saying, stopping Richie’s speech. He wondered if Richie had practiced it, if he had stayed up late to rehearse over and over until it was perfect. Secretly Eddie hoped so. He hoped that the truth hurt Richie just as much it did for him that fateful night. 

Richie blinked, stunned. “Wh-Is it serious?” 

“I don’t know.” Eddie answered honestly, “It’s only been a month but I owe it to him to tell you.” 

“Oh.” 

It felt like Eddie should apologize, but there was nothing to apologize for. Instead he nodded his head and confidently spoke, “Yeah, he’s a great guy actually. His name is-”

“I don’t want to know.” Richie put up his hands as if to shield himself from the truth. “Sorry but I think it’s just easier not knowing.” 

“I understand.” And he did. 

Richie licked his lips, and Eddie could practically see the wheels in his head turning. “Does he make you happy?” 

“He makes me feel safe.” Eddie answered, “And that’s what I need.” 

“Right.” Richie let out a hollow laugh, the shape of it sad and disfigured. “Well I hope this guys knows how lucky he is.” 

“I’m the lucky one.” 

Richie smiled, this time it was honest and true atop of his face. “Goodbye Eds.” 

“Goodbye Richie.” 

----

“Finally!” Mike mused as Eddie walked through the apartment door. “I thought you got lost at the store! I was about to call for a search party!” 

“Sorry.” Eddie mumbled, handing over the bag with candy and forcing a smile. “I wasn’t really sure what you wanted so I got Red Vines and M&M’s.” 

“You know I would have eaten whatever you got.” Mike replied, soothing over the anxiety that Eddie had over the entire ordeal. “But I appreciate the extra effort.” Gently he leaned in and placed a kiss onto Eddie’s cheek, it was sweet and slow just like Mike himself. This should have made Eddie melt but instead he flinched. Miked noticed this because of fucking course he does and allowed the space to resume between them. “Somethings wrong.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

Eddie knew he couldn’t lie Mike, doing that this early in a relationship would surely be the arrow that killed them. So he answered truthfully, “I ran into Richie at the store.” 

“You’re ex?” 

“Yeah.” 

Mike sat on the back of the couch, his aura open and kind just like it always was. “What did he want?” 

“He wanted to talk.” Eddie said, peeling off of his jacket and tossing it onto the kitchen counter. He didn’t dare to look at Mike, fearful of his reaction. “Gave me the speech.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Mike mumbled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “He was stupid to let you go in the first place.” 

Eddie sighed, “Mike-”

“Did you tell him about us?” He interjected, moving back to his feet. There was no anger and judgment in his question but rather an actual curiosity. 

“I did.” 

“Really?” 

Eddie was taken aback by his surprised tone, like whatever they have been doing for the past month meant so little to Eddie that he wouldn’t mention it to Richie. It was a turn, and Eddie could feel Mike’s vulnerability from across the room. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?” 

Mike shrugged, “We haven't been together that long, I didn’t know if you would have actually told him.” 

“Well I did.” 

“Do you still love him?” Mike asked, shoving his hands into his front pocket and rocking his weight from heel to ball. 

Eddie knew that Mike was the textbook definition of a good guy, if Eddie showed any discomfort or hesitation he backed off, if Eddie would have came here tonight and told Mike he was going to go back to Richie then Mike would have wished them the best of luck and actually have meant it. He was too good for this world, too good for Eddie himself. “Maybe, somewhere deep down I think I always will.” 

Mikes face dropped, “I see.” 

“But that doesn’t matter, Richie chose his path and I’m choosing mine.” Eddie walked over to his boyfriend and kissed him sweetly, burning the taste to memory. As he pulled away he looked up to Mike and added, “Now come on, let’s start the movie.” 

Mike snaked his arms around his waist, “Okay. if that’s what you really want.” 

“It is.” 

And it was.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hi babes! Are we still breathing? How much though have you given Harry’s pores, whiskers, dimples, nipples(all four)? Share with me about that and this chapter!! Hope you like my world building and Character introduction! Thanks do my advance guard @emulateharry, @dirtystyles, and @bleedinglove4h tripod forever!!  Talk to me!

Chapter 2- Sweet Thing

Harry could pinpoint exactly the moment the rest of the world, well his world, realized just what they had been missing in Jillian. She'd been a late bloomer, and only a few gross examples of "guys" had noticed her.

Like Mark Martin.

If there was one positive side effect to Jillian's inadvertent social debut, it was that the likes of Mark finally realized she was way out of his league.

Harry had already known it. Honestly.

But it was so painfully obvious by the end of the homecoming dance, he could only drive home alone and curse himself for being a fool and a coward. For not asking her on a date, formally. Jillian would have left with him. It would have been different. He could imagine it. Then they'd've laughed and joked and she might fix his collar and her nails would nick his neck and he'd get goosebumps, and she'd smile at him in a brand new way. He knew all her smiles, but this one would be brand new, to both of them. Harry would be overcome, and he'd get over his fear and press his lips to hers.

He didn't ask though.

It may have been a date to him, but he didn't ask her, so how was she to know? Jillian wouldn't have abandoned him for any party if they were on a date. If she said yes. Which was why he hadn't asked.

Maybe his dad was right; he should have just grown a back bone and told her. Told Jillian he liked her, more than liked her,  she drove him crazy and he was going to Stanford or Berkley, like he'd been planning, secretly. They were gonna move to California, not him to England, for school. That she should apply too. She never talked about going to school herself, just living with him and working. There was no reason she couldn't get a degree. She was much smarter than anybody gave her credit for, herself included. Her mind moved fast, she just needed some background knowledge. Harry could tutor her. He'd talk to her about that too, his plans, and revising her own too.

He was going to. Once they got through the dance. He'd worn a vest so she couldn't see where he was sure to sweat through his button up. It had already taken every bit of his gumption to execute. his plan. It would just take him a bit more time to work up the backbone. Harry knew he would have backed out, of all of it,  if he hadn't had the idea so close to it happening. Had it not captivated him. He was sorry he didn't back out. Kind of.

It had started on Wednesday. On their drive home. They were driving from the high school to her shift at Dairy Barn and he had studying to do. He was going to drop her, go to the library, and come back to pick her up. All of that still happened, but there had been an unexpected pause in their progress. At the library, the idea kept repeating in his head. The dress was just at the thrift shop. They'd seen it when he was driving her to work after school.

"Look Harry!" She was breathless, but her voice was a red octagon. The momentum threw them forward when he hit the brakes. He figured there must be a bird in the road or something.

"What?" He threw his eyes across the road like he was watching a tennis match. There was no bird, or dog, or sheep, nothing. "Why'd you yell?" Jillian was not a yeller, if you knew her, she already had your attention when she spoke.

"Look! That dress." She pointed to the thrift shop right across the way. She looked so enchanted. He pulled in without second guessing. It was pretty, she looked better imagining it than the dress itself, but his imagination, of her in it, surpassed even the yearning look on her face.

"Do we have time for you to try it on?" He was a little dreamy thinking about her in it, his voice thin as a wispy cloud. It was a slip of a dress, with a sweetheart neck and slim straps, A blush pink. It matched her cheeks after too much sun or too many giggles.

She glanced at her watch, bit her lip. He saw her decision made but she didn't voice it for a few more moments. "No, and I can't afford it. I have nowhere to wear it anyhow." She smiled at Harry, mist in her eyes be damned. "I just," she gestured at the window. "It's so pretty."

It was so pretty. Harry thought about it for a while, wondered if someone had lovingly made it, or it was bought in New York City years before and just took up space. Told its story to himself about how it wound up front and center in the small shop on their Main Street. He spent an hour of his study time wondering and making up his mind. That's what he told himself. In truth, the decision was made when she'd shouted for a closer look, then grieved the loss of the dress, or when Harry imagined her in it.

The tears, they made Harry weak. They didn't fall down her cheeks, but he'd seen the gloss on her eyes. He wanted to be strong for Jillian, but she made him weak. Truth was, he'd do anything for her.

After he dropped her off at work, he found his stash of birthday cash. He'd been saving up for a certain chemistry set, but this need was more immediate. Jillian may not have known it, but she had somewhere to wear it, the tear inducing dress. Homecoming was in three days. She had written that off with her Dairy Barn shift, but work would be so slow, she'd get off early. He'd surprise her.

It was a foolproof plan.

Well, there were places several it could go wrong. She could have to close the Dairy Barn, the dress could not fit her, or she'd scoff at the idea of going on a date with him.

It wasn't a date! He'd stress that if she asked. They were best friends, and this was their last year.  Neither of them had even been to a dance. They should go.

He'd just cherish it as a date, in his head.

The money felt crisp in his hands, unused dollars bills had that smell too. The one that filled his nostrils when he'd opened the birthday cards. Harry wished he was allowed to get a job. His dad always insisted that he focus on his studies instead. So, Jillian paid for their occasionally meals when she couldn't share her employee food and chipped in for gas.  Harry carefully hoarded money he was gifted.

Would it be enough?

"That's all?" He heard himself ask when the dress rang up.

"Do you want to pay more?" Mel, the store owner asked him. She was staring at him with an unlit cigarette in her mouth. She smoked in the street, which was weird because everybody just smoked inside, but the clothes in her shop smelled better for it. At least the ones that weren't musty.

"Um, no?" He was just surprised. It was well under what he expected.

"It'll look pretty on her." She turned away and was fussing with a bag and a hanger. It gave Harry time to find his voice.

"Who?"

Mel smiled and handed Harry the makeshift garment bag around the side of the counter. "Be sure to lay it out to avoid wrinkling."

The smile perplexed him. Was he made of glass?

He did as Mel said, carefully hooking it over the bench seat of his car so it hung onto the floorboard with the protective wrap on it.

He bought the tickets at lunch while Jillian was getting her food. He'd gotten lucky that there was no line. He was ready. Except he hadn't asked, and though she liked the dress, and he couldn't imagine this happening, what if she didn't like the way it looked on her.

It had sat in his closet for three days killing him. He and Jillian didn't keep secrets. Maybe because she had to keep so many from everybody else, and he didn't have anybody but her to share things with.

On Friday morning, after she'd slept over again, Jillian sat with her tea at the table, "You look like you have not slept a wink?" She'd touched his hand and it launched him forward twenty years to sharing a table and tea with her in their own house. But she was asking if he slept.

He hadn't. He may never again now with that image to haunt him.

She'd never gone in his closet, when he was lucky enough for her to wear his clothes, he always got them for her. He'd be mortified if she found an old pair of his briefs or something. All night though, the possibility of her walking over to grab one of his long sleeved button ups, one of his usual fantasies, had flipped it into a nightmare. She'd see. The pink dress hanging in the back. He saw it every time.

He was jumpy that whole morning on the way to school. Jillian had come out of his bedroom.

"Harry, your book bag!" She'd called in her melodic twang.

His feet had actually left the ground.

"You are so jumpy. Want to talk about what has you on your guard?" Jillian was always a little jumpy. He liked to come up behind her and say "BOO!" She'd jump and turn around and smack him on his chest. Then they would laugh together. It never worked on him.

"Nah, I had a dream. And that um, that tree outside was scratching the window. It's just the change of seasons. I miss summer." He put on a shiver and was rewarded with a smile and head shake.

"There are places where there is no winter." She let it lie. Her constant convincing amused him. Her being there was amenity enough.

"Are those places where people are gentle and wear flowers in their hair?" He asked with a blank pair of eyes. Undressed eyes, he could barely see her. He slipped his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger in a practiced move. His muscles would remember the move long after he stopped using the glasses when he didn't need them.

"Yes! That's exactly where it's summer, always." She laughed. He often made jokes of the lyrics of her favorite songs. San Francisco was going to be a favorite no matter what, on its name alone. Harry liked to make her smile. It worked as a distraction from his nervous condition.

He had to make it through the day. It was a rough one.

Harry got a C on a pop quiz.

"Mr. Styles, can you stay after class?" Mr. Brisco said as he entered their peer graded quizzes into his book and Harry tried to get to his next class.

"I'll be late." Harry protested.

"I'll write you a pass." He looked at Harry, looked behind his glasses where Harry imagined bruise like circles. "Is everything alright? This is not your usual standard." He gestured to the large red C with a scrawled 'loser' by his not so secret grader. It was Lance Hinkle, quarterback, BMOC, asshole.

"I'm alright. I slept poorly." He shrugged. "It won't happen again."

"Why don't you write me a paper on Nicholai Tesla, for extra credit. Due Monday." He extended his hand and Harry shook it. It was good to be well liked by your teachers, sometimes.

He really wanted to say no. He wanted to spend the weekend with Jillian, especially after taking her to the dance in the dress.

He needn't have worried. She was busy. They weren't gonna wind up in his truck all Sunday afternoon near the lake.

He took the opportunity though, and had plenty of time to complete it. Because his plan backfired.

Well, really it went seamlessly. She did get off early, and when he arrived, he had the dress, and she loved it.

And she looked as amazing as he expected.

He just wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Harry! You didn't."

He hadn't answered. It was rhetorical, it was obvious he did. They drove the short distance to his house and she just went inside. The hum of the engine matched the warm buzz in his chest. He relived her seeing his surprise 15 minutes before while he waited.

She liked it.

The look on her face, when she'd walked out, pulling her ponytail down on her way. Jillian was exhausted and bemoaning having her shifts cut. Worried. Her brow was knit as tightly as the sweater vest he had on. Jillian would have usually noticed how he was dressed up, not just trousers, those weren't out of the ordinary, or a button up shirt. His was usually short sleeved and plain white. Today he had on dark grey trousers and a long-sleeved blue shirt with a small print, and his fair isle vest. He looked nice, his hair had extra pomade. His trusty glasses with their heavy black frame completed his look.

He'd tried.

But her tired eyes woke up as soon as they lit upon the dress he'd hid for three days. And lost sleep over. It was all worth it.

"Harry!" She'd reached for the hanger with speed but stopped just before she picked it up. The hinge of his truck door was still settling after she had wrenched it open.

She'd slowed so much, the dress slinked down to nearly the pavement like a pink waterfall when Jillian hoisted it higher to protect the hem. "Oh! It's so pretty. Prettier than I thought! Oh but Harry! It's too much!"

"No, it was not nearly so expensive as I thought." He protested. He'd have blown every cent for her face.

"The thought Harry!" She'd looked at him then. "You look so nice."

He shrugged that right off. "It's pretty standard nerd fare for me." He demurred.

"No! The little print, it's psychedelic!" This was high praise from Jillian. "Is this for the dance?" She hoisted the dress two inches higher.

"Yeah, yeah." He swallowed the bullfrog lodged in his throat. Not a date. "We don't usually go. I was just thinking...." he shrugged like this speech wasn't rehearsed. "Let's see what high school has to offer before we fly away to the sunshine."

"Oh Harry!" She flowed and jumped up like a spun top, but rather than drop into his seat with the same energy, she reverently sat down and slipped the dress over her neck by the hanger. He assumed following Mel's advice without needing to hear it. It looked amazing like that, draped over her sharp turns and long flats. He couldn't wait.

He reminded himself it wasn't a date.

The drive home was full of her happy chatter and his listening ear. He liked that she could keep up conversation with only a nod or jest as his contribution. It was why they were like complimentary angles.

He kept the engine running, reminisced, and he was reminded how little polish she needed to shine when she came out not 15 min later. She got in the truck carefully.

He was thankful that Mel had suggested heels too, and that he knew her size. She tried to smooth her ponytail bump the whole way to the gymnasium. It had created a nice swoop, but he knew better than to correct her. He could almost hear her say,"What do you know about ladies hair? And I don't like it, so that's more important, my hair my ideas!" She'd been into women's lib as well as black rights lately. Ready to freedom ride and do voter drives, they were just too rural, and too Yankee. He'd already convinced her not to drop out. Twice.

Jillian found Vaseline in her bag and put a little on her pink lips, cheekbones, and a tiny slick over her eyelids. Perfect.

The moonlight bathed the truck cab and he had a momentary idea to convince her to go to the lake instead. To dance on the bank to the radio.

Maybe he should have, everything might have been different.

They walked in, hand-in-hand, which wouldn't shock anybody, so much as their presence would. They already wondered what the pretty but classless girl was doing with the nerdiest boy in school. They didn't say anything to Jillian, yet, but Harry wasn't spared from their comments.

"Does she have a thing for four eyes or something?" Steve Adler, class president and would be valedictorian, but for Harry, sneered at him one day. They had an antagonistic thing going before Harry out A'ed him. Harry corrected him in chemistry once. Since then, Steve was not a fan.

Steve was one of the first people to see them, on stage getting his crown, of course, most people were facing away. His attention caught was noticed. There was sort of a swell, a murmur.

"I'd like to thank my parents for my face, and god for my brain and height, and Jane for the dance." He leered. Then stopped short when he saw Jillian under the door light. His eyes tracked her from where her dress covered the less than stellar shoes, up over her round hips, lithe waist and ample breasts. He looked shocked when he registered her face. The shock stayed a minute when he clocked Harry. It turned to a sneer quick.

His face journey caught the crowd's attention, and Harry lived a fantasy and nightmare all at once. Jillian was on his arm, but the entire school was looking at him, them.

"Um," he wanted to clean his glasses, but Jillian had clenched his hand tight. "Do you, do you want some punch?" He'd thrown his hand to the side and they'd moved from under the inadvertent spotlight.

Jillian followed him easily, and stood close, with a hand on his bicep like a safety blanket while he poured them juice. The music had never stopped, in actuality, but it had definitely turned back up post speech and record scratch. The stage was clearing.

Couples were pairing up.

Should he ask her to dance?

Before he could get it out, her teasing tone rolled over his ears. "I know you don't!" She rolled her eyes. "But will you dance with me, Harry?"

Before he could say the obvious yes, he'd be happy to stutter his way through the steps with her, Steven was there.

He still had the crown on his head.

"Hey, um," he looks embarrassed for just a moment. His eyes flashing around in their lids. "Jilly!" Nobody has called her that in years, Harry thinks maybe the last person was Mrs. June, their 5th grade teacher. "Do you want to dance?"

Jillian looked back at Harry and shrugged. He hadn't answered fast enough. Or asked himself.

He wasn't sure if she said yes, but she hadn't said no.

He watched as she was held in Steven's arms. He drank his punch and diverted his eyes to where Jane stewed.

He thought the first song was unbearable, but then there was another, with Dale Turner, captain of the basketball team, and track star Will Whaisse. He would have left. Except he wasn't sure how she would get home.

Harry hated feeling sorry for himself. Being here was encouraging it. He should leave. He could be home studying, and Steve could bring Jillian home. He had that new mustang.

He had to talk to her though, on his way out. He decided this as his foot crossed the line at the threshold. The force of his turn brought his glasses to the end of his nose. He was pushing it up and nearing the edge of the dance floor when he saw her. She was 20 yards away, her neck on a swivel and her feet moving in a way he expected would land her on her face. From experience. That was without ill fitting high heels, and she had still grown into her body better than him.

Her eyes found his, and he didn't need his glasses to see her expression. Relief, maybe a smidgeon of apology. They moved together like there was apiece of thread being spoiled from his heart to hers.

"Harry, will you dance with me now?" Jillian asked when he reached the free throw line. She was just under the basket. He kept walking.

"Yes, I'll dance with you now." Always.

Her arms circled his neck and his found her lower back, where her hips flared out. This was lower than he had ever purposely touched her. The times it had been accidental haunted him.

Jillian's arms widened at his shoulders and she laid her head on him. It reminds him of a prolonged hug. Like he remembers his mom giving him that last day. Jillian does that, exuberantly hugs him, but never for more than 30 seconds, tops. He has counted. She did hours ago, when she got out of the car to put on the pink dress that looked better on her than he could ever imagine. This long cinch of their bodies, snuggled up tight. It's his linchpin. When she turned her head in along his clavicle and he felt her breath at his jugular, he was bleeding love.

He might tell her. On the way home. That he had always wanted to be her forever. When they were young he thought that meant friends, but now he meant wife. They could get married, if she wanted.

Then it would be his job to protect her, officially. He already tried. To provide for her, he could work at the university. They could have a little apartment in San Francisco she could fill with flowers and fabrics, music and laughter. It would be a nice life. He could hold her like this in their kitchen. They'd dance before dinner.

The chance, at that life, the one in his vision, it's enough to make him brave.

"Jillian." He'd be sad her head came off his collarbone, but looking down into her eyes was good too.

The music had stopped and Harry hadn't registered it was the last dance. It's the perfect time. The only Time.

Before he could get anything out but an exhale, Steven Adler was standing right next to her. Talking about some party everybody was going too.

Except Harry. Who was not invited and had curfew.

He didn't sleep, not much. He'd been tossing and turning. After he'd written his paper too. He knew enough about Tesla for a basic five paragraphs. His bed felt like a tomb, so he heard the faint knock at his window somewhere between the darkest part of night and dawn.

She's there. Jillian. The sun was changing the sky behind her. Harry can't see any tears, but something, something's off.

He didn't ask, and she didn't tell. That night, she just got into his twin bed with him, still in the dress he bought her, and nodded off. He worried about his dad finding them in bed together, but they were fully clothed, and he was so tired.

And she came back to him.

[iraclemayrps]

! you know what i'm here forrrrrr

@neicyrps

Who was the one to propose: 

Tariq. Duh. It sort of just…happens. For Ryan, anyways. For months, Tariq secretly stressed over how to do it. Part of him - the over the top person that he is, wanted an ‘all eyes on us’ kind of proposal. ‘Cause that’s what Ryan deserved. But the more he thought about it. The more he knew Ryan and what she’d want. He decided that a more lowkey proposal was the best way to go. So he did. He’d slipped the ring on her finger after she’d crashed hard from a double shift. The question in bold sharpie writing on one of her old bright pink note cards tapped on the bathroom mirror for her to see when she shuffled in. And the living room littered with her favorite flowers trailing from the bedroom, the table set with her now cold favorite meal and him chilling on the couch as if he hadn’t been waiting for hours for her to wake up.  

Who stressed more over wedding planning: 

Both. It’s the cultural clash that Tariq expected would happen after proposing to a good old, Southern Christian black girl. From the food to the music. To who’ll preside over their ceremony. “Should we just have a justice of the peace? I mean, it will be a interfaith marriage.” Tariq sighs and pulls Ryan into a silent hug. He is two seconds away from grabbing his fiancee and heading to the courthouse to marry her. Right the fuck now. Some of his uncles are asking if she’ll convert. Or if he will. His aunties are talking kids. And all Tariq wants - besides marrying the woman in his arms - is to take her somewhere quiet with nice ass weather so he can see her in as less clothing as possible. No wonder a few of his cousins laughed when they found out his fiancee was Christian. In the end, they work it out ‘cause failure was not a fucking option. But damn, if he isn’t looking forward to their honeymoon.

Who decorated the house:

It’s a weird mixture of both of their tastes. The integration of Ryan’s favorite colors with his (green and gold) is an interesting sight for Tariq. An argument - or several - originated from him learning not to use decorative pillows for anything other than aesthetics. “Pillows are used for sleeping, Nae.” “Not those, Tariq! You’ve smushed them. Do you know how much those cost?” And it’s not like Tariq didn’t know. He just assumed that as a grown man, he could sleep on any pillows in his house. …Apparently not all of them. “I’ll cash app you the money. Just.. damn.”

Who is more organized:

Ryan. Hands down. Not that Tariq isn’t organized. But Ryan likes things in their place. All the time. He knew that going into this. Them finally living together. And he thought that knew. Or that, at the very least, she’d tried to warn him. But…he’s… learning to keep his shoes are out of the way so she doesn’t trip in the dark of night as she trudges to bed exhausted. Or remember to put up reminders when he’s used the last of something. It’s not perfect but Tariq is learning.

Who initiates bedroom fun:

Tariq. But in his defense, have you seen his wife? He continues to give praise to Allah on that alone. Especially considering how they met. He’s been threatened with a ‘no-touching’ rule that has to go into effect when Ryan has important things to do. Like major reports to complete and things like that. But so far, Ryan hasn’t used it yet. She will though. One day. Until then, Tariq is more than willing to keep her distracted.

Who suggested kids first:

Verbally, between the two of them, it’s Ryan. Tariq shouldn’t find the anxious look she gives him, or the wringing of her hands and thinning of her lips, to be cute. But he does. His Ammi has been asking for a grandchild since a week after they returned from their honeymoon. Which, trust him. Tariq was trying. The idea of a unique, smaller version of them out and causing havoc in the world was something that Tariq couldn’t shake. “I’ve been waiting on you, Doc.” He laughs ‘cause it’s the truth. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do this.”

Who’s more dominant: 

Tariq. It’s not because he’s a man. But that Ryan has this unspoken thing about telling him what she wants aloud. He figured that out as he got to know Ryan. Not that she doesn’t have her moments. It’s weird but Tariq likes it. Which, dealing with him, appears to come easier and more regularly than before they met. Ryan’s not entirely demure - see how they met. It just has to coaxed out of her. Which is something Tariq doesn’t mind. At all. 

Who’s the cuddler:

Tariq. He’s a tactile communicator. He talks with his hands. He works with them. Like most people, he uses them often. But it’s just something about Ryan that makes him gravitate towards her. Like a ship steering towards a lighthouse near the coast. His hands have to touch some part of her. Most of the time. So cuddles are natural. He likes the feel of her near his side. Or front. And on his emotionally draining days, his back. Her fingers combing through his short hair as he listens to the beat of her heart. 

What’s their favorite non-sexual activity:

Cuddling aside? Ryan may or may not have gotten Tariq hooked on some trash tv show. One that, save to say, he does not watch without her. “Alright, alright. Explain this to me again?” They sat on the couch, Ryan curled against his side, as a earlier season of a Bravo reality tv show classic starts up. “Okay. So that’s Nene. She doesn’t like Kandi this season. That’s Kandi. Oh. And she’s not cool with Kim again - Nene, I mean - but they’ll probably make up in a few episodes. And then there’s Sheree…” Tariq will damned if he’s clowned for even knowing this. Let alone watching it. 

Who kills the spiders: 

Tariq is the go-to killer of all things creepy crawly. There’s this one instance of Ryan being unpleasantly surprised by a spider crawling along the shower wall. While she was in there. Ass naked. “Why’d you leave the window open, Ryan?” Tariq asked, in between chuckles. His sides hurting from laughing so hard. He’d thought a burglar was in there with her, from the scream he’d heard. “I got it. I got it. It’s dead now. Don’t worry.” Tariq almost slipped and fell from the water splatter on the floor left behind when Ryan hauled ass out of the shower to get to safety. “No, we’re not moving! You should’ve turned on the damn fan.”

Who falls asleep first:

They take turns. Mostly due to their erratic schedules. A first year doctor and a late-night hip hop radio personality? Of course sleep is the last thing on their minds. 

Who is louder?

Sexually? Ryan. Non-sexually? It depends. When it comes to the World Cup. Or football - see soccer - in general, Tariq is an obnoxiously loud fan. Anything that lets him proudly wear Pakistan’s colors is a guarantee for him “show out” as Ryan would say. On the flip side, she’s the same way about things she enjoys. So it depends on the season for both. Tariq is definitely louder when it comes to shit talking. He keeps trying to give Ryan pointers but “Who’s gonna stitch you up if I’m shit talking with you?”

Who is more experimental?

Both. Tariq isn’t afraid of try new things. But depending on the subject, Ryan can be more hesitant. “What do you mean, out here? Tariq. Have you lost your mind?” “Noori. It’s our honeymoon.” My light. It’s one of Tariq’s new nickname for Ryan. He’s been using it since they’ve got engaged. It’s becoming a favorite of his. “You’re telling me that you don’t wanna feel me under the stars? C’mon, nobody’s here.” They discover that mirrors are a great compromise. 

Do they fuck or make love?

Both. For someone who doesn’t drink, alcohol definitely plays a part in this. Tariq can tell the night he’ll have, depending on the number of drinks Ryan has. Nowhere is she like Amy from Brooklyn Nine Nine. But he’s learned the higher the number of drinks, the more likely fucking will happen over making love. Drinks aside - emotions are the other factor. If they’re in a stalemate as both of them can, and will be, stubborn as hell  - Tariq knows that the first few rounds of makeup sex can hardly be called that. Maybe a few things end up getting damaged or even broken. But in the end, his marriage is in tact. Which is all that matters.

Who is more likely to be caught masturbating?

Tariq has. Not that he planned on it. But, in his defense, it’d been a minute and he missed his wife. Obviously. Ryan was at work. Or well, he thought. The shower - yes the same one that Ryan had the classic run in with the spider - was supposed to be a safe place. But sleepy doctors do not like walking into their marital home hearing moans greeting them in the night. Especially from their husband. Without her. “So you gonna stand there or…?” Tariq shot Ryan a challenging eyebrow, stepping back in open invitation for her to join. So it was all good.  

Who comes first?

Ryan. It wasn’t for lack of not trying. It’s just that… well, she married a man that makes sure that she comes before him. Literally. Not that she’s complaining.

Who is better at oral and who prefers it?

For a good, old born and raised in the church Southern Christian, Ryan is excellent at oral. Which was a top-notch surprise for Tariq when he finally learned this fact. However, Tariq certainly prefers to give as good as he gets. He has this smug quirk that he does in the days following. Tariq struts around their place shirtless afterwards, proudly displaying his supposed battle scars from his efforts. Despite saying otherwise, he knows Ryan loves it.

Who usually initiates things?

For the most part - Tariq. Ryan initiates calling Tariq out on his shit. Or when she needs her stubborn husband to gain an objective perspective. A busted lip and bruised knuckles on her husband is not what she expects to see when paged down to the ER from her rotation in the lab. “You can’t just fight everybody that says stupid shit.” “What?!” “You can’t. What if something happens to you? What am I supposed to do then? I didn’t marry you to become a fucking widow, Tariq.” With a heavy sigh and an apology on his bloody mouth, Tariq agrees to pick his battles next time. 

Who is more sensitive?

Ryan. Hands down. She has the emotional sensitivity on lock. Physically - “Stop that shit.” Tariq jerked, his body moving from Ryan’s reach instinctively. “Are you…” “Nah, what’re you doing? Get your hands-” The noise that left Tariq neared a pterodactyl screech. “You’re ticklish!” “No the fuck I’m not.” “Stop moving. Let me see.” She could barely get the words out, laughing around them. “Ryan get your fucking hands away from me.” “Oh my god, Mr. Big and Bad, is ticklish. I got your ass now.” “Ryan!”

Who has the most patience?

Both. In different ways. Tariq directs people to the near-saint like patience he says he used while “waiting on my wife to stop being another man’s fiancee.” To which, his voice may sound annoyed but the confident smirk Tariq wears while uttering it says something else. As a doctor, Ryan has patience in spades. It’s something that Tariq jokes about - still he likes that about her. She’s the calm to his ongoing storm. 

[inyournightmares97]

GOT7 Having a Crush on You!

Hyung Line! Read Maknae Line Here

Your friend circle has grown extensively in the past year or so, and you find yourself hanging out with all sorts of new people. One of them is him; the gorgeous boy who you’d been slowly and steadily developing feelings for. Your heart fluttered every time you saw him. Little did you know, he has his eyes on you too....

Mark

If Jackson hadn’t stepped in and interfered, nothing would ever have happened between you and Mark. 

Mark had liked you since he first saw you. You were gorgeous and he was instantly attracted to your bright personality and fun-loving nature. But somehow, he could never bring himself to speak up in your presence. Mark had never minded being the quiet one, and it was only when you directed your beautiful smile at him and asked a question that he wished he was more talkative and wittier. He’d curse himself for answering your question in a boring manner, and feel secretly disappointed when your attention turned elsewhere.

It took him months to be able to feel comfortable around you and talk freely. Mark likes his comfort zone and he wouldn’t jump into anything. In fact, he would be the only one that could maintain a poker face and possibly keep his crush hidden from the other members. Since he rarely spoke in groups anyway, nobody would notice that he was being extra-silent and cautious around you.

It all exploded the day when Mark found Yugyeom and Bambam badmouthing you. They were talking about how you were always annoying and tagging along everywhere and Mark got extremely angry and scary. He flung whatever was in his hand at the two maknaes and Jackson had to come break up the fight. That was when it suddenly struck him that Mark really likes you. 

“Listen,” Jackson told you when you saw him the next day, sporting an unpleasant bruise on his jaw. “For the safety of our group and friendship, I’m going to need to ask you to date Mark.”

You blushed and got a little flustered when he told you what happened, but you gathered up the courage to call Mark and asked him to have coffee, just the two of you. The silence over the line was slightly disappointing, but he finally let out a soft laugh and said yes, that sounds like a lot of fun. 

Jaebum

Jaebum would also be a little shy around his crush, but he wouldn’t go completely silent like Mark. His feelings would also be a lot more transparent; it wouldn’t take long for the rest of the boys to figure out that Jaebum liked you because he acted so different around you. 

Jaebum was attracted to your maturity. He loved how you were smart and intelligent but you had your cute moments that made him want to protect you. Jaebum’s primary goal was to look extremely manly in front of you, so he smiled less and made his voice just a little bit deeper when he was addressing you. All these things would be extremely noticeable to the members and they would just nudge him and make fun because, please, they know how much of a grandpa he really is. 

Jaebum rarely made eye contact with you for too long, and his responses to whatever you said would be extremely chill and dismissive. You got the impression that he didn’t care much for you. But then he would suddenly do something thoughtful like hand you a water bottle when he saw that your food was spicy, or walk you home at night while pretending that he had to go in the same direction, because he knew you were scared even if you didn’t say it. But his face would be so unsmiling and you would personally find him a little too intimidating to confess. 

One day, you were sitting with Youngjae and looking at pictures of puppies together when you let out a squeal of happiness at the cute picture on his phone. Jaebum had been coolly sipping his drink and trying to pretend that he wasn’t looking at you. But the way your eyes had lit up and your delighted giggles were so adorable to him that he couldn’t maintain his poker face anymore. The corner of his lips turned up into a flustered, helpless smile. 

“Fuck, she’s so adorable,” he muttered under his breath, unaware that Yugyeom and Bambam were nearly dying trying to hold their laughter at the sight of his stupid smile. 

Jaebum was happiest when you came to him and asked for help with something. He invested the time to prove that you that he was trustworthy and reliable, before one day taking you aside and honestly confessing his feelings to you. His confession was simple, yet romantic. He handed you some flowers and carefully took your hand in his, before telling you that he wanted to be the one you trusted to take care of you, and that his feelings for you had grown too large to hide.

Jackson

Jackson’s crush on you would be both painfully obvious and yet at the same time, not. He could hardly ever hide his feelings when it came to you, and he was always complimenting you, dropping pick-up lines and telling you how gorgeous you were. He would grin at you and let out a low wolf-whistle whenever you dressed up for some occasion, and he would always be jokingly telling random people that you were the love of his life. 

Which was why it became so difficult to tell when Jackson was joking, and when he wasn’t. 

You liked Jackson a lot. He was gorgeous and caring, and always supported every little thing you did. You got a promotion at work one day, and Jackson somehow found out even before your co-workers and called to tell you how you were so wonderful and capable and hard-working. He then insisted you go get drinks to celebrate. Drunk Jackson was very similar to sober Jackson; he told the whole bar about your promotion and forced everyone to accept that you were amazing. Jackson was the most supportive person you’d met and you wanted his lovely presence in your life. As more than just a friend because hell he was also gorgeous.

But how were you to know whether he really liked you or if it was just friendly flirting? When Jackson wrapped his arm around you and told you that you were the most gorgeous woman in the bar tonight, you would finally get a little annoyed. 

“Stop saying things like that. Your joking hurts sometimes, since you don’t even like me that way,” you muttered. 

The smile fell from Jackson’s face and he suddenly became serious. He reached out and took your hand into his gently, before speaking firmly, and in clear terms. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that. I might be playing around, but I mean every word I say. I thought you already knew that I was crazy about you.”

You turned a bright red and Jackson chuckled, poking lightly at your cheek and telling you that you were adorable when you got flustered. You shared your first kiss with him that night and Jackson never let you doubt his feelings for you again. 

Jinyoung

Jinyoung would, unintentionally, make you feel terrible about yourself. 

His crush on you made him flustered, because he didn’t like the fact that he was so attracted to you and that you held so much power over him. So Jinyoung was constantly trying to find flaws with you and he never hesitated to point them out.

You had gone out in a large group and when it was time to pay for the drinks, you realized that you weren’t carrying enough cash. You had gotten extremely flustered, so you offered to go to the nearest ATM, but Jinyoung had merely glanced at your purse and scoffed. 

“Forget it, there’s nothing anyone can can do about irresponsible people like you,” he’d remarked lightly, before handing over enough money for your share as well. It was kind of cool how he paid for you, but his remark left you feeling offended and terrible. You promptly separated yourself from the group and went to find an ATM. Jinyoung was shocked when you returned ten minutes later and shoved the cash into his hand. 

“There. I don’t owe you anything,” you’d told him firmly. 

Which only made Jinyoung fall for you even harder. Damn. Still, he tried hard to convince himself not to like you. He laughed at you openly when you tripped over your own two feet, before helping you up. He scolded you the day you got too drunk at a party but drove you home and tucked you into bed safely. His actions drove you crazy. He would do things that one might normally consider sweet but he would be so mean about it all that you never knew what to think. 

Until one day Jinyoung took it a little bit too far. You’d been having a terrible day. So many things had gone wrong, starting from your boss yelling at you at work, to finding out that there was a leak in the plumbing in your apartment and that your mother’s health wasn’t too great. Despite it all, you’d forced yourself into a dress that disappointingly didn’t fit you right anymore (it had been fine last month, now you had weight issues to add to your terrible day) and went to your friend’s birthday party. Jinyoung was there as well and he balked when he saw you. 

The short dress that you were wearing flustered him, and he found himself feeling more attracted to you than ever. Panicked and not knowing how to deal with the setback, he’d let out a thoughtless comment. “What are you wearing? Don’t you know how to dress better than that?”

The dam broke, and you burst into tears. Jinyoung was horrified, because you always gave back as much as you got when it came to his mean comments. He put his drink down and pulled you into his arms, gently stroking your back as he comforted you. Your tears brought him back to earth and he realized that he’d been going about this the wrong way. 

“I’m sorry, I’m an asshole. It’s because I’m just so attracted to you and I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m so sorry. You’re beautiful, you always have been.”

[aion-rsa]

Netflix’s The One: Ending Explained

https://ift.tt/2OpdEA1

Netflix thriller The One is bookended by the same line. It starts and ends with Rebecca Webb, CEO of the genetics-based dating service central to the series, standing on stage saying: “I have a secret I want to share with you.” 

Both times, Rebecca’s talking to a crowd of receptive clients eager to hear that her company is going to find them scientifically approved, DNA-based true love. In episode one, the ‘secret’ is all part of a spiel about her having grown up with parents who didn’t love each other and how, thanks to her company, that won’t ever have to happen again. 

By the finale though, the audience knows that Rebecca really does have a secret. She has several in fact, starting with the deeply shady origins of her billion pound company. By the end of the series, is Rebecca about to make a public confession? Join us as we delve into that and the other cliff-hanger questions left by the finale…

Will Rebecca confess?

To three murders? We don’t know but it’s not likely is it? That one’s pure corporate shark, from her expensively styled quiff to her designer shoes. The finale leaves us with the suggestion that Rebecca – now with no company, no Matheus and, in her own words, nothing left to lose – might be about to tell all, but a confession would be a massive leap for a character so conscience-free who’s gone to such extreme lengths to protect herself until now. 

What happened to Ben on the night of the party?

First Rebecca pushed him off the rooftop of the Millionth Match party venue during an argument, then she pressured James into helping her cover up Ben’s death and dump his body in the Thames. Before Ben went into the water though, Rebecca realised that he was still alive and that she could try to save him. Instead, she rolled him into the river, killing him – a secret she’d kept even from James. 

Why did she do it? Because Ben had realised that Rebecca was behind the data breach that got him fired from his job. He confronted her on the rooftop, threatening to go public with what he knew and send her to prison. When Matheus and Fabio showed up at Rebecca’s place on the day of the Millionth Match party, Ben realised that Matheus had previously taken part in a medical trial for his old company. That’s how he knew that, if Rebecca and Matheus had matched, she must have stolen the database that gave her access to Matheus’ genetic profile. 

Who stabbed Matheus?

David Cooper, the man who’d been protesting outside The One headquarters all series, holding a placard reading ‘A Match Made in Hell’. When Cooper’s wife had used The One to find her match, she’d left him and taken their two young children with her. Enraged, Cooper had attacked his ex-wife’s new partner and lost custody of the kids. He then channelled his frustration and anger into a campaign against Rebecca, eventually stalking her to her home address. He followed her to the new headquarters of her medical research lab, where she was secretly meeting Matheus. Cooper lunged at Rebecca with a knife, but Matheus saw the attack, span Rebecca around and saved her life, taking the knife and dying in the process. Rebecca later had Cooper stabbed to death in prison.

Read more

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The One Review (Spoiler-Free): Not a Match Made in Heaven

By Louisa Mellor

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New on Netflix UK March 2021: The Irregulars & Moxie Streaming This Month

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Why didn’t Rebecca save Fabio?

For the same reason that she killed Ben – because he was threatening to send her to prison for a past crime. Unlike Ben though, Fabio could be paid off and was blackmailing Rebecca for cash. Having spoken to Ben on the day he disappeared, Fabio knew that Rebecca had reason to kill him, and so when he saw the news report about Ben’s body being dredged up from the Thames, he demanded two million euros in exchange for not telling the police what he knew. Hence, when she found him passed out, she chose not to try to save him. 

Megan, Hannah, Mark and the baby

This is messy. When Hannah went to apologise in person to Megan – the woman she’d befriended after discovering that she was her husband Mark’s genetic match – during a hug, Megan stole a strand of Hannah’s hair. We later saw her use the strand to send to The One and find Hannah’s match. Although Megan told everybody she was planning to move back to Australia, she may be hoping that once Hannah meets her match, she’ll leave Mark and then he and Megan can be together. Mark lied to Hannah about having seen Megan while they were separated, so she doesn’t know that they had sex. Megan, on the other hand, doesn’t know that Hannah is currently pregnant with Mark’s baby. Like I said – a messy business.

Kate’s sibling love triangle with Sophia and Sebastien

After Kate and Sophia were matched, Sophia’s brother Sebastian told Kate he was strongly drawn to her, as if they were also matched. Kate, who’s bisexual, felt a similar pull towards both siblings. The last we saw her she was looking at Sebastien’s social media profile, which included photographs of his fiancée. She closed the tablet and kissed Sophia, perhaps indicating that she’d made her decision, but we also know that Sophia and Kate were both invited to Sebastien’s approaching wedding… In short then, she seemed to choose Sophia but the jury’s out. 

James and Yasmin: a happy ending?

It looked like it. Strangely, even after she had Connor beat him up, James ended the series still friends with Rebecca and likely heading up the scientific arm of her new charitable medical research facility. We saw his match Yasmin, a Somalian refugee and IT worker with a young daughter, get his information and the two of them meet up and get along, suggesting that his lonely, guilt-ridden days are over.

Is The One all a lie?

It very much seems like it. As Kate discovered, despite the company line that there’s only one genetic match for everybody out there, it is possible to be matched with more than one person. Rebecca told James that the company was getting a few cases of people reporting feeling matched to two different people, “mostly between siblings with a high degree of chromosome recombination.” The entire premise, therefore, that there’s one true match out there for everybody, is false – the kind of news that could bring the company to its knees. Good job Rebecca got out when she could, eh?

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The One is available to stream now on Netflix

The post Netflix’s The One: Ending Explained appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[gentlemanmendes]

Dead Air

In my half asleep state I walk to the car trying to keep my eyes closed so I can get more rest in the car, I'm one of those people that once they wake up that is it, there is no hope of going back to sleep until night. It doesn't help that I am also one of those people that are incredibly moody when they don't get enough sleep. I had slept in a pair of addidas sweat pants and a black crop top so I wouldn't have to get dressed in the morning plus my parents would never let me leave the house in my pyjamas.

When I reach the car my sister is already seated in the back seat, head rested against the window as she two tries to fall back asleep, the only difference is she has no trouble sleeping. Unlike me she could sleep through a hurricane and wake up happily once it was over without realizing anything had happened.

The plan was two go away for the next two weeks to celebrate my eighteenth as well as my parents twentieth anniversary, how they managed to stay together for twenty years and still be happy beats me, I would have probably gotten sick of someone after two weeks of being married. I haven't turned eighteen yet but being the oldest child and becoming legal was apparently a big deal to my parents.  The next two weeks will be spent at my Grandparents old lake house which is apparently where my parents met when my dad was working for my grandpa as the gardener to earn some extra cash. At just eighteen they met and fell in love, two years later had their first child and got married. Of course everyone thought they were crazy for getting married so young but they didn't really care. My sister found it cute and in a way I did too but I don't think I would get married to someone after just two years of knowing them, even if I had a kid with them. There is no doubt we will be told this story again on the way which is why I am so desperate to fall asleep now.

The last time I was in that house was when I was twelve, the last summer before my Grandparents passed away, my parents had decided to share the information that I had been conceived there. Of course at the time I didn't know what that meant but once I sat through high school health classes I put two and two together. My parents also decided that they wanted to make one more trip back to my grandparents lake house before they sold it. Being the only child my mother inherited everything but after nearly six years of hardly ever visiting my mum decided it was best to sell the house, they also needed the money if I was going to go to a decent college.

Dawn River, the town closest to my grandparents lake house,  was a small sad town with mainly old people living there. Everything from the shops to the cinema seemed to belong in a classic sixties movie, even the structure of the houses and decoration inside of them.

When I get into the car River, my sixteen year old sister, gives me a slight glance before letting out a giggle. She is no doubt laughing at the fact that I had taken my mother's blind folds and half covered my eyes so the blinding sunrise doesn't wake me more.

To top off all the romantic crap my parents named us after the town they met in. Thankfully me being born first I got the more decent name, Dawn, as for my sister she got stuck with River. As a child she hated it and would force everyone to call her Ree but as she's grown up I think she has secretly begun to like it. Besides it does match her down to earth personality and natural beauty with wide brown eyes, sun kissed skin thanks to all the time she spends outside, and messy brown waves that she can never be bothered brushing but she just seems to pull it all off. I on the other hand try my hardest and still can't be as pretty as her.  We do look alike except for the fact that my skin is pale compared to hers considering I spend all my time locked away in my room and leaving my hair knotty the way she does would probably frustrate me enough to take a pair of scissors to my hair and cut it all off.

We didn't stop once on the way, we never did in the past either. The only time my dad would finally stop would be when we needed to pee so badly that we couldn't hold it in anymore. Mum always packed food for the drive, she usually packed fruits and healthy snacks but dad got so sick of our complaining that he began buying crisps and candy the day before we left so he wouldn't be forced to pull over once he got sick of our whining. They had prepared for everything, made sure the car was filled with fuel, that the battery was working just fine, all the tires filled with air and a spare just in case, anything to make sure that this trip didn't go wrong.

After four hours of trying to sleep, I gave up. As I looked over at River, my legs resting on her lap, I notice that she has as well seeing how she is reading her latest romance novel. I would ask to read it after her but don't because not only do I hate romance novels with a burning passion but because she will tell me every single detail of the damn book when she is done, even if I bluntly tell her I don't care. It's just the way River is. Though we do share a love for books we just don't share any books, I tend to stay as far away from the romance or cheesy teen novels as much as I can. I prefer the fantasy stuff that keeps you guessing what will happen next, not the typical romance where they fall madly in love and live happily ever after.

My ear phones are playing as I try not to think about how stiff my backside has gotten from sitting on it for four hours straight.

"Hey mum, can you pass the chocolate chip cookies?" I finally speak for the first time this morning. My mum leans forward and pulls out the unopened packet of store bought cookies causing me to smile broadly as I reach out for them. River holds her hand out signalling that she wants one as well. As I open the packet of cookies the car swerves causing the cookies to fly everywhere in a mess.

My eyes widen and I look up to see what is going on. The car begins to spin in circles and I begin to scream, feeling my body being tossed around in the backseat of the car, even with my seat belt on. I don't remember hearing anyone else over the sounds of the panic in my head telling me that this is is, I am going to die.   My head hits the roof of the car and I feel the car tip upside down, the tears are falling freely down my face but I don't care, there are so many things I haven't said to my parents, so many things I haven't done or gotten to experience and now I never will.

Finally the car has stopped rolling up we are upside down. I want  to scream call out for River and ask if everyone is okay. I look over at my side and see the blurry silhouette of my sisters body handing upside down looking almost lifeless. Fear takes over me.  

This is it, just like that my life will be taken away from me and there is nothing I can say or do to stop it. That is just the way the world works.

Sharp pains can be felt all over my body from my face down to my calf's I can feel a stinging sensation as though someone has grabbed a knife and has made multiple deep slashes wherever they possibly could. My head feels heavy and everything is dizzy. I can't keep my eyes open no matter how hard I try, suddenly being wasted seems so much better than this and that is coming from someone who hates drinking.  My eyes begin to close as I struggle with all my might to keep them open. All the pain in my body is still there but it feels almost far away and I wonder if this is what dying feels like. If it would be painless and simple like the way I feel now. Nothing cross my mind anymore except for the fact that I can't keep my eyes open no matter how hard I try.

 I’ve had this in my drafts for ages but wasn’t sure about it. If this does good i might post it on wattpad but idk????

[ikigaiday]

Your Deep Rest

Pairing: Klance

Warnings: Death and lots of edge. 

Word count: 1,798

Summary: Sometimes you realize you don’t know a person that well. Sometimes you can’t remember much about them no matter how many memories you made with them. Sometimes you come up with questions when its too late.  Sometimes you find out the most about a person after they are gone.

     It was a bright day. It wasn’t too hot out, but it wasn’t exactly “cool” either. It was a “perfect day to spend at the beach” as Lance would have said. He would beam with excitement, his eyes lighting up like the sun, and Keith would scowl and say that he “probably had something better to do.” But he would go anyways. Their group would play volleyball in the hot sand, and they would have chicken fights in the water. Laughter rang inside Keith’s head, the ghost of memory of the happy days he called in sick at work to hang out with his best friends.  He had called in sick today, too, but for different reasons.

    He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ward off the tears building in his eyes. A lump had grown in his throat, making it in incredibly hard to breathe. He felt Shiro’s arm wrap over his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug as Kieth inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. After a minute he opened his eyes again. The sun shone into the church, but the light was hazy to Keith. He dared to glance across the room, but he instantly recognized this to be a mistake. He was only met with grieving, tear stained faces. Pidge stood to his side, her face angled to the floor as her shoulders shook with her silent sobs. “It’s like I’ve lost my brother all over again.” She had whispered to Keith soon after they found out.

    Hunk was currently walking up to the podium, his face blank. He gingerly grasped the mic, his hands trembling as he leaned down a bit to speak into it. “Um, hello.” His voice was soft but broken. “My name is Hunk and-- and Lance was,” his voice cracked with the strain being put on it, “Lance McClain was my best-- my best friend.” His stiff expression split apart as he began to sob. “He was always there for me.. He was always there for everyone. He cared about everyone so much, I… I guess he forgot to care for himself along the way. I just--” he lowered his head, trying to collect himself as he moved his hands to cover his eyes. “I miss you buddy..” he whispered as if Lance was standing right there. But he wasn’t. Lance was in a wooden box. His eyes would never open again, his lips would never twist into one of those goofy grins they all loved. “I’m sorry,  I had so much I wanted to say but--” Hunk wiped at his eyes, “I don’t think I could ever say enough…” Hunk took a deep breath and stepped away from the mic, slowly walking back to his spot next to Lance’s mother who instantly wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.

    Even though it hurt, Keith couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene.

    After the funeral everyone slowly milled out. Keith stayed seated, Shiro even slowly getting up to let him sit with himself until he was ready to go to the burial. Lance’s family hung around for almost as long as Keith did, but they left the blank male alone as they grieved in front of the deceased McClain’s coffin together. They filed out for a bit, going to make sure the hearse was there and in order before they carried the coffin out. Keith took this short moment to stand up and drag himself over to the coffin. It was an open casket, allowing Keith to see a bust shot of his once rival. Even in death he looked gorgeous, but Keith couldn’t will himself to believe it was actually Lance. Lance was so full of life, this shell couldn’t be Lance. Keith found himself gingerly reaching down, brushing a strand of hair off of the brunette’s cheek. His skin almost seemed drained of color, even if he still had a tan tone to him. The suit was a dark contrast against his form, the blue flowers in his pocket the only real splash of color added to the picture. Keith stood there, his hands resting on the edge of the casket. There he started to realize he hadn’t even really known Lance McClain.

    Days passed and Keith was losing more and more sleep every night. It didn’t feel real. He kept waiting for his phone to ring, to hear Lance’s annoyingly attractive voice on the other end, telling him to get his lazy ass up because the group was going to go see a movie. Then they would send a few insults back and forth as Keith struggled to pull one of his multiple pairs of black skinny jeans on. “By the way, can we take your car?” Keith covered his face with his hands, willing himself to pass out.

    “We always take my car. Give me some money for gas this time.”

   “I’ll make sure to pay you back at my grave.” Lance would laugh at his own joke and Keith would crack a smile.

   “Whatever McClain.”

    Keith turned his head, looking at the small stack of cash faintly outlined by moonlight on his nightstand. “All of the gas money I owe you.” Lance had smirked as he handed it to him, leaning against the door frame. Maybe if Keith had questioned him, maybe if Keith would have tried to look into his eyes, he could’ve seen it coming. He slowly sat up, deciding he had to do something about his racing mind.

       It was one in the morning. He shouldn’t be here, but he couldn’t stop himself from knocking on the door. The street was quiet and so was the house he was currently at. He was about to turn around and walk away, but the porch light flashed on. He looked up at it in surprise, then turned his surprise to the opening door. He was now staring into the tired eyes of Lance’s mother, swallowing hard to try and hide his nerves. “Sorry.” He muttered softly, not knowing what else to say.

    “It’s fine. I was awake anyways…” She stepped back, motioning the dark haired male inside. “Would you like a cup of coffee…?”

    “Sure…”

    Keith spent many nights over at the McClain’s. The first few days he didn’t say much, and neither did she, but slowly Keith opened up. He told her how he recently came to the conclusion he hadn’t known Lance as well as he thought. How he felt guilty for never actually taking the time to ask him questions about his interests and life before it was too late. Lance’s mother didn’t reply for a while and Keith started to fear he had upset her, but slowly she stood up.

      “I think you should have something.” She started out of the kitchen and after a moment Keith stood and followed after her. Up the stairs and taking a turn to the left, he found himself standing behind the exhausted woman as she pushed a white door open. When she flicked on the lights Keith realized it was most likely Lance’s room. “He hadn’t moved out yet.. He said rooming here was much more comfortable and cheaper than staying at the dorms.” She spoke softly, slowly walking into the room. Keith stood frozen in the door frame, peering inside. The walls were a light purple and the comforter on his bed had multiple different shades of blue. His nightstand and dresser where dark blue with white knobs, and he had a small white desk pressed in the corner. Multiple pictures were scattered across the walls, fairy lights draped over them.       It looked cozy, it looked like Lane.  

   Lance’s mother opened the bottom drawer of the nightstand, pulling out multiple composition books. “These are his journals.” She ran her hand across the surface of the one on top. She gingerly placed them down on the bed then passed Keith, leaving him alone.

    At first Keith felt weird about reading something so personal about Lance, but after he read half of the first journal he found himself needing them more and more. He even ended up spending the night there after two weeks. He would pass out reading the books, leaving quietly in the morning before Lance’s parents got up. After three weeks Keith found Lance’s blue iPod and charged it up, listening to his playlist as he read.

    He learned all sort of things about Lance. How he also looked up to Shiro, how Shiro was his reason to want to become an astronaut. How he was envious of Keith but still admired him. He wrote down memories of his childhood he randomly recalled and wanted to put down on paper. Baking with Hunk, and having “spa days” with Pidge to just hang out in one of their bedrooms and paint each others nails with face masks on. He wrote about laying on top of his roof, staring up at the stars. He wrote about the days they had all spent together, about his favorite moments or the girl he thought was cute. Keith learned Lance had never had a proper girlfriend outside of the one he had in third grade, he learned that he loved dogs and spent many volunteer hours at a shelter. He also found out how much Lance doubted himself, how much he compared himself to other people. About how some nights Lance cried himself to sleep because he didn’t think he could “do it anymore”. He was always so strong around his friends, always so confident. It always seemed like he thought he could conquer the world, and Keith always secretly believed he could, too. Keith could hardly stop reading the journals, not even to eat. Even when he wasn’t reading the journals he couldn’t stop thinking about them, he couldn’t stop thinking about Lance.

      Though, deep down, he knew that no matter how many of the journals he read,or  how many times he read them, he couldn’t bring him back. Lance was never coming back.

     He was four journals in when he coughed up the first few flower petals onto one of the pages.  Fear overtook him in that moment and his chest squeezed painfully. He panicked and coughed up even more flower petals, their bright colors becoming blurry against the dark carpet as tears welled up in Keith’s eyes. He cried, the horrible truth seeping into his mind. Lance McClain had been dead for over a month, and Keith was reading his journals to try and to get to know him. Now more than ever he regretted not getting to know him while he was alive. Why? Well the flower petals he was still coughing up made it pretty evident. 

                          He had fallen in love with Lance McClain.