#can someone please tell walt he is pretty

[yasperapologist]

[neilgill]

Wish Defense I: The 'Complaints'

“Be to her virtues very kind, Be to her faults a little blind.” ― Matthew Prior

Disney's Wish was actually great and I'm here to defend it.

I'd like to start by negating most of, if not all, the 'complaints' this film's been getting. Please join me as I do this in 12 brief points:

Asha is a great protagonist. She is not just 'quirky' or one-dimensional: she's caring, strong, beautifully flawed, and doesn't solve every problem on her own; the movie makes a point of every one of these. I never saw her as a clone of someone like Mirabel or Anna. And she does have a character arc: she matures and learns to work hard for what she believes in. She learns that doing the right thing is difficult, but it's necessary. All this makes for a beautifully put-together character that gets through challenges and comes out stronger. Why aren't people talking about how great that is?

Magnifico is a great villain. He's an amalgam of familiar villains like Maleficent, Ursula, and Gaston, done in ways that seem fresh and unique. I've seen a lot of people say his motivation seems to change every few minutes or so, but I disagree. Him using his traumatic past is his excuse for his bad behaviour: that's what narcissists do. Just look at Mother Gothel and all her gaslighting. He was always a self-absorbed jerk who wants everyone under his heel, and whose darkness just got revealed more and more. And his 'villain shtick' is a cool and terrifying one: stripping people of their hopes and dreams to make them docile subjects who depend on him. He takes away their agency, essentially their souls and who they are as people. That is the bad thing he's been doing from Day 1, it's what makes him a villain: the film tells us that. How can people defend him? It's like people defending Gaston all over again. He's a great villain in that he goes against the values the story holds dear, challenges the protagonist in personal ways, is wonderful to hate, and is rightfully depicted as in the wrong for doing bad things. He's the selfish one, not Asha as the 'critics' are claiming. Why aren't people talking about that?

Star is a great secondary character. He is intentionally supposed to be a character that harkens back to those like Jiminy Cricket or Timothy Q. Mouse (I have a very personal connection with Dumbo, so this was important to me). People are REALLY misinterpreting that concept art of them: Star and Asha were never supposed to have a romance because Human Star would look like her grandfather. And 'Starboy' would just be a copy of Peter Pan or Genie, which people would definitely slam, thus I'm glad they changed him. See point 11 for more on Star and why his current form is the one they went with. People just care about having a Jack Frost clone (if they did go that route, they'd probably be slammed for copying Dreamworks, knowing 'critics'). The idea of a mute, magical sidekick, something that we haven't seen since Tinker Bell, is a pretty fun one that feels new and cool. And it's important to note that he never grants anyone's wish: he just helps out, letting Asha and others know that they themselves have to make it come true. Why aren't people talking about that?

I was really worried Valentino was going to be little more than a gag, but he wasn't. He helps out here and there, especially when aiding the Teens in freeing the wishes, proving his importance to the narrative. Plus I did find him pretty funny.

The Teens do stand on their own. I went into the movie knowing they were going to be new versions of the 7 Dwarfs, but each of them felt like their own unique person to me, especially Dahlia and Simon.

The animation is gorgeous: you have to watch it in HD or 4k, which people are doing for other films like Spider-Verse or Nimona, just not this one. It is far from 'lazy' or 'Disney Junior level': it harkens back to art styles Walt Disney himself loved. I can't believe they managed to replicate the feel of classic Disney backgrounds, like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, so perfectly with modern technology. It looks like a painting, or a tapestry. Disney movies are still beautiful. Why aren't people talking about that?

The music is great: I've caught myself singing every song at least thrice. Each song brings something to the table. 'This is the Thanks I Get' fits Magnifico's character, and is something in the same vein as Gaston's song; you cannot tell me that one rent line is worse than 'nobody spits like Gaston'. I still get chills listening to 'This Wish' and its reprise. I don't know how people online are starting to think it's a bad song, but now others are just jumping on the bandwagon. You can see Asha's love and struggles within the song, and it even has the melody of 'Part of Your World'; how can you hate that? I've seen so many people personally connect with that song, myself included... Why aren't people talking about that?

'At All Costs' was never a love song between Asha and Star: Julia Michaels just wanted a love song (find that Variety article), and now it can be used for all kinds of love. I actually did tear up watching that sequence for the first time, seeing Asha hold her grandfather's wish dearly in her arms. I've seen people say it reminds them of what a parent would sing to their child, like 'You'll Be in My Heart', and I think that's just so wonderful and heartfelt. Why aren't people talking about that?

I don't have the actual post, but I'd like to bring attention back to what an artist on the film said: every 'Easter Egg' is meaningfully placed, a tribute to what has inspired generations. Not one of them felt shoehorned in to me. This movie is a tribute, a love letter, a celebration of what people have loved for 100 years. Why aren't people talking about that?

Magnifico's defeat is far from silly. It makes sense given the rules the world of the film runs on: the fact that 'we are made of stars' is a good Chekov's gun that carries a lot of meaningful importance. Each of us is special, each of us has magic, and each of us has hope. And this is where evil dies and good endures: Magnifico cannot comprehend that anyone but himself is worth anything, thus why he cannot quell this and it is the reason for this downfall. He, the villain, loses because he lacks the virtues the heroes possess. Why aren't people talking about that?

The story of this film is special: as confirmed by the staff, the film is an allegory for Walt Disney's life, and the story of Disney overall. Asha is Walt Disney, Star is Mickey Mouse: a magical force of creativity and inspiration that lights up a dark time. Because of the special nature of this, even though I'm a die-hard Disney fan, I'm fine with there not being any romance in this film (even though I'd like it back someday). This was intentionally made as a simple film à la Snow White, which was meant to be a happy, hope-giving film for people back in the 1930s. Just like this film is supposed to be now. One last time: why aren't people talking about that?

This is the first of a few posts I'll make defending this movie, so for other Wish fans out there, please stick around. I don't care if I get dragged for this: I'd rather stick up for my beliefs and defend myself my way than let online bullies like Schaffrillas, Aldone, or Astor Rhymemaster stop me from loving something I really enjoyed. I really hope this movie gets the Atlantis treatment and becomes a beloved cult classic down the line. Until next time.

[winwintea]

Blame it on my Disney Wish (Prologue)

PAIRING ▸ wayv x fem!reader 

GENRES ▸ romance, fluff, crack, angst, acquaintances to lovers, disney park au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sexual jokes, alcohol consumption, chenle gets bullied a lot, kun also gets bullied a lot, everyone gets bullied a lot, 

SUMMARY ▸ kun takes the boys to disney world, funded by his sugar daddy chenle. however none of them were prepared for you to tag along, more or less even be affected by that cliche disney magic. but hey, maybe dreams really do come true? 

TAG LIST ▸ (send me an ask here if you’d like to be added! + those tagged will be in the tag list of all chapters of this series!)

RELEASE DATE ▸ no schedule haha... i work at my own pace guys!

WORD COUNT ▸ 1.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ welcome to my first ever fic? this is a “choose your own route” kind of series, so no need to read in order! i’ll be updating one chapter at a time, finishing off all chapter 1’s before i move onto the chapter 2’s. this originally started off as a crack fic idea that turned into a romance. thank u for taking the time to indulge in my silly fic. i’m very into disney parks so this was very fun to write. PLEASE ALSO READ THE PROLOGUE BEFORE READING THE CHAPTERS!

“Could we maybe go to Disney?”

Little did Qian Kun know, was that this innocent question would be the reason why Kun, and 6 other idiots were now at Walt Disney World with you.

That day, Dong Si Cheng, Kun’s roommate, asked a simple question. That had a simple answer: No. But what happened instead, wasn’t as simple. If it were any other one of his idiotic friends he would’ve turned them down straight away, but the request had to come from the mouth of Dong Si Cheng instead. There was no way Kun could resist the temptation of seeing those eyes look dejected after he rejected that wish of Si Cheng’s. 

“Sure, I’ll see what I can do.” Was what HE SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID. but he did.

As soon as Kun walked out of Si Cheng’s room, his smile quickly turned into a frown. How the hell was he going to accomplish this? They were pretty much broke college students, no freetime, and no clout. Actually the last part was a lie. They were pretty popular amongst most of the students of their school. Mingled with most people, went to parties, drank a lot, you get the gist. Yet, that wasn’t enough clout to magically grant them a Disney trip. That shit only happened in movies. Disney movies. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear that sad conversation.” Kun turned his head to see a familiar face, one that happened to belong to his ‘bestie’ Ten. He was using the term ‘bestie’ lightly. They’d known each other for years, but still bickered and teased each other over everything. Ten’s real name was ‘Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul’, but of course no one could pronounce that so everyone just called him Ten instead. It made life simpler. 

“Oh yeah? Like you could do anything better.” 

Ten cocked his head to the side, “What? Can’t stop being a people pleaser for once and reject someone for a change?” “I’d love to see you try. Why don’t you go tell him ‘no’ instead, so we don’t have to shovel out our own money to pay for this damn trip?” Kun knew Ten loved a good challenge, and that Ten was as equally broke as he was, so maybe he could convince Ten to persuade Si Cheng.

Ten looked at him for a few seconds, rolled his eyes, and walked right into Si Cheng’s room. Kun glanced at his watch, wanting to see how long it would take. 

“You don’t need to tell me Ten. I heard everything outside, I… understand.” Kun could hear Si Cheng’s faint voice from the door, and his heart ached a little. The sadness in his tone was very obvious. “I was being selfish… I’m sorry.” 

“N-Nononoofcoursenot!” Ten blabbered out. Suddenly Ten opened the door again, spotted Kun and pulled Kun back into the room with him. “Tell him Kun! We were just planning the dates right, weren’t we Kun?” 

Fuck this bastard. Kun could imagine it in his head. Right here, right now. His hands wrapped tightly around Ten’s neck. And when he was done, he would know exactly where to put the bo- Err… Just kidding. There would be a witness anyways. A witness that was currently giving him a puzzled look. 

“Uhm… yeah yeah… yeah right we were just booking flights that’s all. And if it… sounded like we weren’t gonna go uh… we were just… joking, right?” Kun looked at Ten for support. If Ten was gonna throw Kun under the bus then he needed all the help he could get.

“Yeah yeah. We’ll go to your favorite park!” Ten winked at Si Cheng, still nervously looking at Kun. “I like all of them though…” 

That’s it. Kun grabbed on Ten’s arm, as equally hard as Ten had done to him earlier, dragging him out of Si Cheng’s room once again. This time, Kun and Ten positioned themselves strategically in the kitchen where Kun’s beloved roommate wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. However as they made their way into the kitchen to see a shorter boy standing at the sink peeling an orange. “Chenle, how the fuck do you keep getting into our dorm room?” Kun stared at Chenle as he was nonchalantly peeling his orange. 

The younger boy grinned at the two. “Si Cheng gave me his spare key. He wanted to learn how to play basketball, so I’ve been teaching him.”

Chenle was a basketball prodigy and had gotten into their school on a scholarship because of it. He was only 2 grades below Kun, but somehow they shared most of their classes with each other. Chenle would always pester Kun whenever he could and did anything he could to make his life miserable. “Okay, so why are you here now? Si Cheng did not look like he was about to play basketball at all.” Chenle popped an orange slice in his mouth. “Silly! I’m here for you! Well, see I originally was going to bother you like I normally do, y’know” He ignored Kun’s glare and continued on, “But then… I was hungry so I got a snack.” He motioned to the orange in his hands and ate another slice, “Also whoever made that Pumpkin Pie, that was absolutely fire.” 

“Fuck you that was my last slice” Ten crossed his arms, and joined Kun in scowling at the younger boy.

“Yeah well. Sorry. I guess. Not really. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Regardless, while eating the pie I witnessed your little disney dilemma and I have a proposal to make.” Kun eyed Chenle suspiciously as he continued on, “I’ll pay for your little trip. Flights, Tickets, Fastpasses, Food, everything!” 

Kun completely forgot that Chenle’s family was loaded. He glanced at Ten then back at Chenle. “And what do you want in return? Is there a catch?”

Chenle looked at them with a more mischievous grin in comparison to the ones he had been giving them before. “No catch! You just have to take me and my best friend, y/n with you.”

MASTERLIST

[seraphtrevs]

I feel like you've explained this a dozen times already so I'm sorry in advance, but can you please help me understand what Walt's canon problem with working with Gale is? Is it really as simple as him wanting to be the smartest in the room? Gale admires him and Walt is technically smarter than him anyway, so wouldn't that scratch the same itch that Jesse did? He told Gus "because he listens to me" but... so did Gale?

I don't think I've touched on this before actually - or at least, I don't remember lol

The reason Walt got rid of Gale was because Jesse was threatening to destroy Hank's life by pressing charges against him after Hank beat him up. Jesse also threatened to start cooking again on his own, and he promised to rat Walt out to the cops if he ever got caught. So Walt needed to bring him back under his wing to keep him under control. He made up reasons that Gale wasn't a good assistant in order to get Gus to agree to let him bring Jesse back.

So that was the practical reason. However, it wasn't just because of Jesse's threats. In 3x07, Gale annoys Walt by having gotten started with the prep before Walt's arrival at the lab. It was all stuff that Walt asked him to do, but Walt hadn't given him the order yet, which clearly bothers him. (Meanwhile, Gale was bursting with pride for having correctly guessed Walt's commands in advance, not understanding that Walt wouldn't be pleased. Poor Gale.)

Walt doesn't want an assistant who thinks for themself, because that's a threat to his authority. Jesse, on the other hand, waits for Walt to tell him what to do, which is why he thinks Jesse is the better listener.

I also think that Gale's adoration, while initially pleasing, rubbed him the wrong way. People talk about how Walt married Skyler in part because she was much younger and therefore would be easy to control, but I've honestly never bought that. Nothing about their relationship suggests Walt ever even tried to dominate her, or if he did he gave up pretty quickly. If he'd really been looking for someone young, meek, and submissive to marry, I'm sure he could have found someone - there are lots and lots of women with low self-esteem who he could have easily dominated. But Skyler doesn't have a submissive bone in her body. In fact, she's the dominate one in their marriage pre-Heisenberg.

Likewise, we talk about how Jesse is so easily manipulated and that's why Walt likes him...but I also don't think that's really true. Jesse fought like hell against Walt almost all the time, only giving in after Walt wore him down. So I think Walt is attracted to people who have a lot of spark in them. It's not very satisfying to "win" otherwise. Gale is too eager to please, and therefore not really fun to control.

[theprivatearchives]

19th August 2021

clip of Wilbur talking about/singing Dream's new song

I just.... Wilbur's high voice on this is so wonderful. and he says he's listened to the whole song heaps of times and likes it?! dude, I don't need you to tell me I should be hyped... it sounds awesome!

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Whenever I get down, comparing failing young adult me to young adult Karl and thinking "man, he's fine with buying cars and having people stay at his house and doing all these responsible things etc." I can always remember that he didn't know how to turn his microwave on. XD

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ngl, I'm secretly glad Sap burnt the butter because the amount of times I've done that is atrocious XD

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if you literally never use your oven, do you only ever eat takeaway or something? I've been living on my own and I eat and cook like a lazy young adult living on their own lol but that means I use the oven pretty often for things like pies and pasties and chips and so on.

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dude, walt is just built different lol

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"You guys are forgetting, I'm not a real adult... I have more YuGiOh cards here than stuff you can actually eat... I have bayblades and YuGiOh cards instead of milk and eggs. BUT, which one's more fun...?"

I need to compile my relatable gen z streamer quotes into one place and just update it from there...

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somebody help... why have I started liking sapnap more than karl at certain times and about certain things...? aaargh! XD It's just this cooking stream. This isn't a permanent thing. We'll see.

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"Eww! There's blood on this thing! Actually though, there's like blood coming out... Yo, meat's disgusting.

There's like blood in this thing... We really eat this? Jeepers. I might be a vegetarian. Except for sushi."

This is Karl. This is also me.

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Hero Walt... please can it be a fanfic? LOL

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This might seem kinda random, but I think PUNZ would be an awesome customized numberplate.

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I think it's cute how Sap is genuinely trying to cook something okay and do it right.

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Can't believe I'm still watching this cooking stream haha... how long is it???

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Three men in a room... I would have expected /one/ of them to want meat properly cooked through... But nah, they're all down for some raw red meat. Pretty eww imo, lol.

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Oh, fair enough about the microwave... I just realised it was some smart tech exhaust fan too.

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How tf is Sapnap only 20

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Just had a thought... So, we know how c!dream has been in prison and all... Well I think I would really like to see this: Quackity's torture and negative comments and all that actually get to Dream. Not just to the point of, "oh, I'll go along with what big Q says to save myself from the pain," which we've seen, but to the point where he takes on board the negativity and starts to agree with it to an extent. Like his mind aligns itself to believe the effing trash Quackity has been feeding it every day for how long? A very long time, anyway. And he starts to actually be broken, instead of remaining the narcissistic manipulator that his character normally is. Like, at first, in the prison, Dream was still that person. He was brash. He was selfish. He was all of that. But even just a month can set me in a totally different place mentally, let alone four or whatever. And repitition like that... It's bound to get to you eventually. Think about it... He's in a prison. A single cell. He's bored stupid. But that means he literally has too much time to think. And he can't die. And he doesn't get much outside input from anyone except Quackity who is abusive in almost every single way. I know personally, without distraction my thoughts can seriously screw me over and I'm not even in similar extremities as the situation c!dream is in. And I think I would like him to be broken and have to be fixed by his friends or at least someone else on the server. And going from one extreme position to the other side of the pendulum where Dream think of himself as /worse/ than he is, if they work through what he has actually done and what he is responsible for and not responsible for... They could potentially end up in the middle ground where Dream actually recognises his wrongdoings and doesn't try to defend them and doesn't even agree with them. I'm not advocating for extended periods, or any periods, of phsycological, emotional, and/or physical torture to bring a character around, of course, but let's make something positive come of this shitty situation perhaps?

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Dream song premiere rn!

[t-andwood]

"You know, I just might be, Bass." Walt let Bass know. "Which I'm sure you're fond of, but you know I enjoy the journey to find myself on someone's lap. Especially if it's to accuse them of lying." He said, teasingly as the man took a seat besides him. 'Those are indeed those brothers who mixed it up with Ms. Drew every so often. Well, please tell your mom she's got taste as they are honestly great reads. While the Clock Ticked, a masterpiece." Walt laughed as Bass spoke of what he'd done with the page. "I imagine it must have been quite the joint. Please tell me it wasn't just some mid weed." He thanked Bass as he handed him some candy from the table at the center of the room. "You know, you say that, but I can't help but think a part of you is really excited to play some psychological chess with our peers. You have pretty great company thus far, so you're welcomed to stay by my side until your break time is over." Walt looked out of the corner of his eye, watching Bass's fingers find themselves dangling close to his skin. He shifted so that he was looking at the guy, head on. "Well, with a game like this, you try to stay as unassuming as possible. Your object is to make no waves, keep yourself as out of the mix for as long as you can." Walt nodded, propping his head down against Bass's arm. "Until you have the perfect moment to pull a move."

"Are you insinuating that I'm lying? Now Walt, usually someone is in my lap before they're accusing me of lying." He winked and set himself back into the couch, sinking into the overstuffed comfort. His grin only widened as the other went on a mini tangent of some obscure reference. "Are those the brothers who got with Nancy Drew? I know my mom had a few of those yellow books around the house growing up. Got mad when I used a page to roll a joint back in the day." His brows knitted together as he got the whole story, and let out a small laugh. Without a word, he reached over to the table and grabbed a few random treats, handing some candy to the other. "Can't even fault you for that. I'd much rather be lounging around and high off my ass. Guess we can count this as my break time before going back to the thick of things. This way you can tell me more about how cunning you are, I'm all ears." As he spoke, his arm slipped behind him on the back of the couch, fingers just ever so barely grazing Walt's shoulder.

[imaginedreamwrite]

I would take absolutely anything new you can give us about Ransom and Marshmallow…pretty please??

We only hired her because we knew you wouldn’t fuck her, who would want to fuck someone like that? The sharp sting of their words cut straight through you the moment the email came through to the wrong person. The message was clear and it had made you rethink everything you’d known about your relationship with Ransom and the professional relationship you’d had with his uncle, Walt.

You knew his family was disgusting and vain, you had known how perfected their images were carefully crafted and maintained. You had known they were stuck in their own circles of the elite and the rich, but hadn’t expected them to care so much about you.

You and Ransom, it appeared, were a hot topic of criticism and condemnation.

And then you go and fuck her anyway. Was she good Ransom? Was she everything you wanted? Did you cross a kink off your bucket list? They went on and on, CC-ing his father and mother, his aunt Joni.

They spanned back and forth discussing the relationship Ransom had with you, and every piece of you was degradingly torn apart and analyzed.

You sat for nearly ten minutes staring blankly at the screen with wide eyes and blurring vision. You were still sitting in the middle of his bed, wearing the silk he’s given you last night that still bared the feeling of his hands on your body.

You sat there until reason came to you and then you were up and on your feet. You had scurried off the bed and grabbed your discarded clothes from the floor, bundling them up in your arms haphazardly. You kept them clutched right to your chest before you scurried from his bedroom and darted into the kitchen, coming upon Ransom standing in the kitchen.

“Leaving so soon, marshmallow?” He called out to you, chest still bare from a shower he’d taken with small beads of water still in his dark hair.

You fought the urge not to cry in front of him, you fought the bitter strike of nausea that made you want to double over and spew what you had in your belly. There was so much you wanted to avoid, and the words remunerating in your mind from his family had aided in your sickness.

“Thought you’d wanna stay for a while,” Ransom had suggested with hinger lacing his voice, his hands barely idle as he had come toward you and hooked his fingers in the hem of your silk slip.

“Ransom-“ your voice wavered, tears free falling down your cheeks and you’d turned your head, evading his gaze.

They didn’t think he’d fuck you. They didn’t think he’d want to fuck you. Everything they had said about you was derogatory.

“I have to go.” You stepped away from him, your clothes gathered in your arms. “I have to go, I have to-“

“Marshmallow,” Ransom cupped your chin and made you look at him, his eyes searching yours while your bottom lip trembled and shook, “why the fuck are you crying?”

“I need to go-“ your attempt to step away from Ransom was haltered by his arm slipping around your waist to hold you against his chest.

“Why are you crying?” A certain aggression came over him, a certain hardened edge that drove him to use his strength to keep you in place.

His hands were warm against you while his were eyes still as icy as ever, there was a certain up kick in emotional connectivity that coursed between you two. It was a deep draw that made you sleep together a few times after late nights at work.

You were deeply invested in Ransom emotionally and physically, but what his uncle and his family said…it had cut you deep.

“Please, I have to go-“ you spoke words of departure but leaned in and rest your head against his bare chest.

Your shoulder shook as you cried against him, your throat constricting with every attempt to tell him what was going on. You were at a loss, you were unable to properly communicate your hurt and your anguish.

It was only a result of you finally being able to tell him what was wrong that had changed his physical and emotional state.

His arms flexed and tightened around you, you could feel the clench of his jaw against the top of your head. You felt the primordial shift from merely protective and wanting to a deeper and more intense, even aggressive, possession and defensive beast.

You could feel his aggression.

You could feel the inevitable and terrifying rage radiating off of him.

“You’re not leaving,” his chest rose and fell with every heavy intention he had laid out for his family, “you’re not leaving me, Marshmallow. You’re not going to let them win.”

“Ransom-“

“Stay here, with me. Stay here and let me deal with them.”

[the-iceni-bitch]

For smutty prompts: 97) “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”

With Andy or Ransom? Anyone really 😂

Oooookkkkk, this is gonna be Ransom, cause I’ve had a similar idea to this for him for a while now.

What, the OTP again, you say? You guys just keep lining them up for me 😉

Tagging the OTP babes @stargazingfangirl18 @chrissquares @subtlebucky @egcdeath

Send me smutty prompts!!!

Again, 18+ only guys, this is straight up porn!

You had never been more bored in your life.

It was Linda and Richards’ 40th anniversary, and they were throwing a giant party at a fancy hotel in downtown Boston. Of course you had to go, you and Ransom were pretty established now, as much as Linda hated it.

It was literally just a bunch of old money families that Linda was trying to ingrain herself to, bunch of stuffed suits that had nothing better to talk about than summering in the Hamptons or their brand new yachts or whatever the fuck the obscenely rich and out of touch loved to drone on about.

You’d lost track of the number of gin and tonics you consumed an hour ago, keeping yourself glued to Ransom’s side purely because you needed someone to roll your eyes at and he was your only option.

“How you feeling there, sweetheart?” He asked as some ancient man with a name like Chauncey or something finally walked away from you after chatting at you about his damn hunting lodge for what felt like an hour.

“Please kill me.” You whined, running your hand over your face before taking another sip of your drink as he chuckled at you. “Just break your glass and shove the shards into my throat.”

“I thought you were used to talking to rich people?” He said. “Isn’t that all you do at that charity of yours?”

“Those are rich liberals.” You said as you chugged the rest of your drink. “Who also aren’t the best, but at least I don’t have to listen to them complain about environmental regulations the whole time.”

“Well, why don’t we give my parents those super thoughtful gifts you got them then get the fuck out of here?” He said, taking your glass from you.

“Yes, please.” You said grabbing the presents you’d spent way too long on and following him through the crowd.

It didn’t take you long to find Richard and Linda, at the center of a flurry of activity. You waited patiently for them to be free before stepping in front of them, Ransom wrapping a protective hand around your waist.

“Mom, Dad, Y/N and I are gonna head out but we wanted to make sure to wish you a happy anniversary and give you your gifts.” He said, his fingers drumming against your side with nervous energy.

“Yes, happy anniversary you two.” You said, giving them a forced grin as you handed them their presents.

“Oh you can’t leave yet, Ransom.” Linda said, completely ignoring you. “There’s someone here I want you to meet. Muffy!”

Ransom let out a groan as Linda wandered off to grab some uptight looking woman who was about your age but who looked about as bored as you felt. Richard just gave his son a clap on the shoulder and gave you a lecherous grin, before turning to head to the bar.

“Gross.” You muttered before turning back to you boyfriend. “You wanna tell me what’s going on, babe?”

“Yeah, my mom’s been trying to get me to go out with this Muffy chick for months.” He said nervously, loosening his tie around his throat. “I think her parents own a textile conglomerate or something. I thought she would’ve let up once we made it official but I guess not.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before Linda was shoving the poor girl at Ransom and trying to get the two of them to chat, still pointedly ignoring you.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said as he pulled you even closer.

“Hi Muffy, it’s my pleasure.” You said, offering her your hand as you beamed at Linda, who was looking very unhappy. “So sorry to cut this short, but we really do need to get going. Always great to see you, Linda.”

You dragged Ransom away from the crowd by his tie. He made a small sound of surprise when you turned away from the exit and started to head towards the bathroom.

“Babe, the exit’s that way.” He muttered, grinning at you.

You turned around and brought his face to meet yours, smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss, running your tongue over his teeth before breaking away and leaving him breathless.

“I know where the exit is, but there’s something I want to take care of first.” You murmured as he rested his forehead against yours. “Now go make sure there’s no one in the bathroom, and I’ll make you come so good baby.”

“Fuck, don’t gotta tell me twice.” He muttered before striding inside.

He was only gone for a few seconds before popping back out and dragging you in after him, picking you up and wrapping your legs around him.

“So...” you murmured as he set you on the counter, his lips moving all over your neck and shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me your mom was trying to set you up with a socialite?”

“Didn’t really seem important.” He muttered against your chest as he slotted himself between your thighs. “It’s not like I was actually gonna do anything with her.”

“Right.” You said as you started to undo his belt.

You removed his belt and started to work on undoing his fly, sighing as he sucked a bruise against your throat. You tugged his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs and wrapped your hand around his cock, making him groan.

“Whose cock is this baby?” You purred as he straightened up to rest his forehead against yours, your grip on his length tightening as he hissed between his teeth.

“Shit, you’re mad.” He mumbled as you squeezed him harder, biting your lip as you watched precum leak from his angry tip.

“Not mad, baby.” You murmured, running your thumb over his slit and making him groan. “Just feel like maybe your need a little reminder. Now tell me whose cock this is.”

“Fuck, it’s your cock.” He moaned as you smeared his precum over your fingers and dragged your hand over his length.

“That’s right baby.” You whispered as you brought your hand up to cup his cheek. “All mine. Just like this pretty mouth.”

He hummed as you slipped your fingers into his mouth and continued to draw your hand over his dick. His tongue swirled around your fingers as you pushed them further into his mouth, nudging the back of his throat as you slid off the counter.

“Look at you taking my fingers so good baby.” You cooed at him as you moved to stand behind him, sliding your fingers out of his mouth. “You know what else is mine?”

His breath hitched as you ran your hand over the curve of his ass, teasing your finger around the rim of his puckered hole, your other hand still drawing over his length as you bent him over the counter.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He groaned as you slid your finger inside him, arching his back into your hand.

“Ooh, baby, you are so fucking ready for me aren’t you?” You purred at him as you stretched him open, his cock twitching in your grip. “I own you, Hugh. This is my body, sweetheart, I can play you like a damn fiddle.”

He cried out as you slipped another finger inside him, scissoring them in his pretty hole as you curled over his back and pressed soft kisses against his neck. You shoved them even further inside him until they were nudging his prostate, and he swallowed a scream as your hand moved even faster over his cock.

“Mmm, sing for me pretty boy.” You murmured into his hair. “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this. Now cum for me sweetheart.”

You sank your teeth into his neck as you shoved a third finger inside him, your other hand squeezing his cock. Ransom screamed as he came violently, his body rolling underneath you as his cum spurted all over the counter and his pretty hole fluttered around your fingers as he sobbed against the countertop.

“Oh my god!” You heard a sound of disgusted surprise from your left and turned to see Walt and Richard standing there with shock written all over their faces.

You stood up and grinned at the two of them as you pulled your fingers out of Ransom and unwrapped your other hand from his cock, smacking his ass hard and making him yelp as he panted against the counter.

“Hey there boys!” You beamed at them, Ransom finally coming back to himself and straightening up, avoiding making eye contact with his father and uncle as he pulled his slacks back up and tucked himself in. “Richard, please tell your wife to stop shoving WASP bitches at my boyfriend.”

——————————————————————————

A/N: This ended up being super long, whoops! But hey, sub!Ransom guys!

[georgiapeach30513]

Plenty of Practice

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary:  Aster and Story finally talk

Pairings:  Aster X Story

Rating:  sadness

Warnings:  mentions of Iris’s infertility, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, vague mentions of Dayton’s and Andy’s abuse, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  1.5K

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Aster Drysdale Masterlist

Story Drysdale Masterlist

Aster walks outside to see Story sitting on a blanket and cooing down at Otto, almost starting to walk back inside.  “Az, come sit with us,” with a deep breath she walks to sit on the bench, staring down at her sister that she was convinced got everything she ever wanted.  Story scrunches up her face, and boops the little baby’s nose.  He wiggles his feet around and giggles staring up at his mother.

“What are you wanting Story book?”  Aster pats at her stomach.  She currently still isn’t showing, and she’s wondering just how far she can hold off.  Not everybody gets to have Carter Baizen step up to be their child’s father.

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Apology accepted.  Can I go?”

Story turns to look at her sister with that award winning smile.  “No, I want you to listen.  I didn’t realize how long you and I had hated each other.”

“You were just the baby sister that I didn’t want.  But I didn’t want Blade or Lucy either.”

“Az, please.  I’m sorry.  I want us to be friends, or at the very least be cordial.  We live in this house together,” Aster looks down at the little baby, almost with tears in her eyes.  “What?”

“You won’t be here long.  I’m surprised you haven’t moved into Carter’s apartment.”

“I don’t want to be in the city.  There’s too many people, and neither one of us want Otto to grow up where he can’t run freely outside.  Is that what’s bothering you?  Because I’m with Carter?” Aster quickly shakes her head no.  “I’m not really with him.  We sleep in the same bed.  He’s the father to Otto, but we’re taking things extremely slow.  We kiss.  The last time we tried...I’m not ready for that, but I don’t want anyone else but him.”

“Didn’t you just win the lottery with boyfriends then?”

“Az, I’m sorry about what I said about Mickey.  I’m sorry that I’ve always been able to get what I want by getting whiney.  I’m sorry that I took time away from you and daddy.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know I was doing those things.  I had someone call me out on my part in my life, and I sucked.  I was a baby who felt like I deserved the world, because I was the Princess of Boston.  I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry that I blamed you for my own jealousy.  I know you didn’t ask to be sickly.  I didn’t realize that while you were doing breathing treatments I was able to do whatever I wanted.  I didn’t realize the struggles that you went through, just like you didn’t see mine.  I tried to be perfect, and you just always were,” Story sighs and looks down at Otto.  “You were.  People always immediately fell in love with you.”

“That’s not being perfect, that’s being charming.  You have this hardness about you, that I love.  You’re not afraid to tell people what needs to be done, me I’m a follower.  You have goals, and you’ve met them.  Daddy talks all the time about how proud he is of you, even Walt.  Walt just thinks I’m vapid, and just like our father.  But you’re the one that’s just like daddy.  Smart, driven, doesn’t take crap from anyone, passionate, you like sex and don’t care what people think of that.  You’re sure of yourself, assertive, you don’t have to be girly, but you’re so sexy.”

“Well some of us weren’t gifted with great boobs.  I just got the great legs,” Story and Aster both laugh, finally coming to realize they both misunderstood their sister.

“Does Iris know?” 

“Know what?”

“About the baby?” Aster turns and looks away leaning back, and trying to think of a way to change the subject.  “I know you like to party, but my partying was much different.  You preferred alcohol, I preferred cocaine.  But you stopped drinking.  Even when you didn’t party you had a glass of wine a day.  Does Iris know you’re pregnant?” she shakes her head no, starting to cry.  “Is it Mickey’s?”

“Pretty sure, yeah.  He’s the only idiot I was having unprotected sex with.  God, I’m so stupid.  I thought to myself about how stupid you were, and then I found out about yours and Dayton’s relationship, and I’m the stupid one.  Mickey wasn’t forcing me, he didn’t make me get off birth control, I just forgot an appointment.”

“Come here,” Aster sits on the blanket with Story, and she wraps her arms around her big sister.  “You’re not stupid, you were careless, but you obviously wanted this baby.”

“I couldn’t get pregnant with Scott, and I thought I was the failure.  And here she is, and I want her so bad.”

“She?” Story gives her the biggest smile through her tears, placing her hand on her belly.  “There she is.  Azzie, you’re having a girl?”

“Yeah, she’s already so perfect, and I've never wanted anything more.  Like, already see myself holding this little fluffy baby.  No pink though,” Story’s face falls, “Unless it’s the lightest of pinks that almost looks white.  I haven’t even told Mickey, haven’t even spoke to him at all, and I don’t even care.  But then, I’m being selfish, because he gave her to me.  Because of him I have my little Eliana.”

“Aster Sapphire, I can’t with you.  Eliana?  Oh, I love her already.  Why haven’t you told everybody else?”

“I don’t know, shame, I guess.  I’m supposed to be the head strong daughter.  The one in control, the one with a plan.  When has my plan ever panned out?” 

Story tilts her head looking at Aster, her hand still over the barely there bump.  “First off, you’re gonna start eating more, and quit hiding this precious baby.  Secondly, if you’re not doing any prenatal care, I’ll kick you butt.  Thirdly, when has any of our plans panned out, not even mom or dad’s.  Do you think any of us wanted our journey to be the way it was.  Look at our parents.  Iris wants another baby, and can’t.  Blade has never recovered from his one and only girlfriend, so he uses women for sex.  I didn’t want a child by another man.  I wanted Carter to be all my babies’ dad.  Lucy, do you think she wanted to be born so young and be closer to the age of her niece than her own sister?  Life isn’t always beautiful; there’s heartbreak, there’s trials, there’s some of the most immense pain that we can ever have, but there’s beauty in that journey.”

“You sound like Dr. Banner and Joshua,” Aster stifles out a laugh.

“You would know all about how Joshua talks,” Story gives her a small elbow.  “What I mean, is our plans are always going to be derailed.  But you want this baby.  You want Miss Eliana.  My god, she’s gonna be perfect.  Imagine the two sisters that got along the least amount, have kids that are going to grow up as best friends.  What’s her middle name?”

“Rune, it means secret.  But she’s going to be my beautiful secret.”

“I’m sure our mom knows.  She knew about Iris and me, both times.”

Aster looks down at the little baby boy that gives a whimper, and Story hoists him up to start nursing.  Her eyes looking at him so fondly.  Story’s fingers petting over her beautiful boy’s face.  “You regret it?  The first time, I mean.”

“Some days.  I would have had a different journey.  What married before I was eighteen?  A child that was four.  They would have been Carter’s, but I would still be that little whiney girl, that pouted to get what she wanted.  Carter wouldn’t have helped that because he was always buying me gifts.  I wouldn’t have Otto.  It was ugly to get him, but look at him, he’s perfect.  I don’t care who he comes from.  He’s mine.  My baby, the only thing I truly love from my time with Dayton.  Aster, the love you’ll feel when that baby is born, is something you can never prepare yourself for.  It makes everything that ever happened to get you to that moment worth it.  Hearing that Andy was Dayton’s son, it scared me.  It hurt, because of the pain he gave mom and dad, but then seeing Pops, and all he wanted was to hold his great nephew.  I hope he takes after Ari and Frank.  They’re so good.”

“I love Airy,” Aster laughs through her tears, and gives her little sister a kiss to her temple.  Wishing that all these years that they spent hating each other, they could have saw each other from the others’ prospective.  “Otto is going to be a handful and the sweetest, because that’s all we’ll allow him to be.  And he’s going to be my Ellie’s bestie,” she takes a deep inhale, and looks at her beautiful sister, always envious of the way she looked, only to find out she was envious of her looks.  “Will you sit with me at family dinner when I tell everyone?”

“It’d be my honor, Azzie.”

“I’m gonna have to try and change his diapers now.  I’ve never done the baby thing.  That was always Iris’s deal.”

“Well,” Story pats around Otto’s bum, and giggles, “It was just gas.  He’s a gassy boy.  I’ll make sure you get plenty of practice.”

Masterlist

[solliewriter]

Archery for Writers

In this post, I'll basically tell you the small stuff: e.g., what your archer will complain about to other archers, how different bows sound, what it's like shooting in the rain or snow, finding the goddamn arrows, etc. I’m also going into technical details and will discuss the legendary Robin Hood shot.

If you want a good basic primer, T.S. Strange on Instagram did a pretty good job https://www.instagram.com/p/COat-W1rQ7o/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

But, if you're ready for beyond the basics, I've got you covered.

To be clear, my knowledge of archery is primarily Western traditional archery. PLEASE research the history of the type of bow you choose as they’re all unique. There’s a reason why Mongolian bows are so different than English longbows.

I have primarily shot in thick, brushy forest (not parks, actual wilderness), so when you read, that I'm talking about that setting unless specified. My favored bow is a reflex/deflex, which is basically a recurve/longbow hybrid. I have also been doing archery for as long as I can remember, so yes I know how to shoot.

SOUNDS

Different bows make different sounds. Recurve bows are loud. They make this twangy sound when you use them, unless you put a silencer on the string. This silencer is usually a fluff-type thing that is woven around and through the string. The silencer doesn't make them perfectly silent. It's more of a muffler than a silencer.

Longbows are quieter, but they still make noise. It's short, grunt-like hum that usually only the archer and their immediate compatriots can hear.

For Your Character (FYC): a recurve archer and a longbow archer will very likely pester each other about noise.

SIGHT, pt1

You can shoot blind. Sorta. No, you can't put on a blindfold and still hit your target, but you can and will extrapolate what you see. As mentioned, I've done almost all of my shooting in the forest, in the mountains. Visibility is  less than perfect. You have to aim through hundreds of branches, and the likelihood of hitting a branch and sending your arrow flying into No Man's Land is very likely as a beginner and amateur. Shooting through the forest isn't like in Lord of the Rings or Hunger Games, unless that forest is a well maintained park with marked trails made by things other than deer and bear. (FYI, bear trails are perfect for humans.) Half the time, if you move an inch the wrong way, your arrow will be way off target. Missing by an inch means missing by several feet, which is really far in archery.

More than once, you see your target at one angle, but can't shoot it at another. I've experienced this frequently because my Viking sized dad will pick targets that I, his 5'2" daughter, am too short to see. I have to stand on tip toes to see his target, then lower myself into almost a crouch to shoot. I still hit the target.

FYC: Besides the obvious banter that comes from discussing height differences, there are a few other things to note. In the forest, it can be hard to find two good angles to shoot something. This can lead to frustration, complaining, attempts to get the other archer out of the way, and etc.

SIGHT, pt 2

I’m talking about recurve/longbows, so there are no actual sights to look through. 

This is where things are controversial. There’s a gap shooting and an instinctive shooting. Gap shooters guess the distance, then aim. Instinctive shooters just sorta ... wing it.

I’m not going to throw shade at either method. But here’s a key reason why one would use one style or another: gap shooting is largely ineffective in mountainous, forested terrain when you can’t really see much. So, if you have an archer from a prairie and an archer from the mountains, it’s likely they use different aiming styles.

Side note: Flu-flu shots are unique and fun shots that use big feathery arrows. You shoot nearly straight up in hopes of getting your arrow on top of the target rather than straight toward it. When doing this, you can either look at the target or look at your arrow angle, but you can't do both at the same time. You have to shoot blind. Flu-flu shots aren't good for killing creatures, but they are pure fun. This is a good example of using instinctive shooting rather than gap shooting. Also, flu-flu shots are prone to being highly effective by the wind, and it’s very easy to get them stuck in a tree for all eternity. There’s a shooting area my roving family calls “The Valley of Lost Flu-Flu’s.” It’s called this for very good reason.

SMELLS

Bows don't smell, unless you've just added beeswax to the string (strings fray, wax stops that). Arrows smell for about a day after you paint them and glue them.

Leather, however, smells and remains smelly forever. I personally like the smell (though I suppose I'm actually smelling the oil, not the leather). It's very hard to describe, partially because I have so many memories involved. Unfortunately, I have to leave this to you. Just note, leather from armguards, quivers, and pouches don't smell the same as couches and your typical urbanite materials. Find your hippie friend and ask them to make you a leather bracelet or something. That'll teach you the smell.

FYC: Your archer will have very strong memories associated with the smell of leather and beeswax. They will be warm fuzzy memories.

TOUCH, aka shooting in the cold weather

All right, it's cold, and your character is wearing a big coat. Big, puffy sleeves to fit all those layers beneath. No biggie, just nock the arrow, draw, and shoot ...

FWAP!

The string hits the character's coat sleeve. The arrow goes about ten feet before falling limp to the ground like a sad puppy.

To fix this, you need to tie a thick band around your character's sleeve. Easy peasy.

Now, your OC tries shooting again. Unfortunately, it’s been raining, so to their dismay, they've noticed that their turkey fletchings (standard in the western US states) have flattened and shrunk. It looks like there is barely any fletching at all. Fear not, the arrow will still fly. It'll just make aiming a bit harder, but not terribly worse. Those fletchings are just stabilizers.

Your OC goes home. When they take off their shooting glove/tab, they notice their fingers are yellow. Oh no! Don't worry, your OC is not sick, the dye has just come off the leather in the rain. It'll wash off, but it'll probably happen every time the leather gets wet for the next few months unless your OC makes a new glove/tab that isn't dyed.

LEFTIE VS RIGHTIE

It is extremely uncommon to find a left-handed archer. This is because even if someone’s right-handed doing their day-to-day things, it doesn’t mean they’re going to be right-handed for archery.

In archery, whether you shoot left or right handed is determined by your eye dominance. Most people are right-eyed dominant, so much so it’s very hard for a left-eye dominant archer (such as myself) to find new bows. And I mean really hard. Go anywhere and there’s a severe shortage of left-dominant archery gear simply because it’s that rare (hah I’m special- jk).

BOWS

There are manufactured bows (lame), and there are good bows. Yes, there’s a huge difference.

I’m not sure of the technical terms, but here’s my experience.

Manufactured bows, i.e., the cheap bows you find at a renaissance fair, are typically made from a type of plastic. Good traditional bows, from almost any country, are custom-made from wood that the bowyer (bow-maker) has shaped, treated, and glued.

Bows are a lot like musical instruments. Essentially, manufactured bows (or guitars, violins, etc.) are poor quality because they’re made of cheap materials which make the shooting quality less than superb (more on that later), and because they aren’t given the attention they need, which makes them of lesser quality because they’re just ... eh. Special treatment makes for a better bow.

Like musical instruments, there are a lot of different types. Most websites say there are only four (recurve, longbow, compound, and crossbow), but that’s not quite true. These acknowledge the four general shapes of a bow, but not the subtypes. For example, Mongolian bows are recurves, but tend to be shorter than Western recurves because Mongolian recurves are meant to be shot on horseback.

SHOOTING QUALITY 

So, what is it like shooting a good bow?

Again, I’m speaking from experience with recurves, longbows, and reflexes.

A good bow has good speed. It moves the arrow faster than slower. This is a relative scale because recurves shoot arrows faster than longbows, and reflex/deflex tend to shoot faster than longbows but slower than recurves.

WEIGHT

Is it possible for people to have pulled 100 pounds of weight in a bow back in the olden days, or are people just confused?

Yes, it’s possible.

My dad, who used to do archery once or twice a week, had a 100 pound bow that he shot fairly regularly. That was before his shoulder injuries and, y’know, age. 

Also note that he’s practically a Viking.

I pulled 50 pounds at 28 inches when I was doing it regularly, although now I probably have to go back to 45 pounds.

BASIC SHOOTING FORM

This is going to be heavily effected by your character’s culture, bow, and upbringing.

There’s the English, upright stance for shooting a longbow. The archer stands very straight, and their pull hand goes to anywhere between the lip and the ear.

There’s the forest stance, which is my own, and that’s slightly bent over to avoid string-slaps, finger to cheekbone. Also, I made up the forest stance, so don’t Google it.

Then there’s Walt Wilhem, who, due to physical disability, had to shoot from the hip and was still one of the best archers in the world. Watch the video of him and his brother:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np8u69YfSA8

THE ROBIN HOOD SHOT

This is actually very attainable. I’ve done it six times. My dad has done it about 30 times. I have a friend who did it about 25 times.

In order for this situation to realistically happen (if you’re writing something unrealistic, you really shouldn’t bother reading all of this), the character needs to prep a few things.

1. Years of experience. At least six, and that’s assuming your archer shoots at least seven hours a week, without missing an hour.

 2. At six years the archer might get a few Robin Hood shots. Very likely, it’ll be at a shorter distance and the arrow they’re shooting will be cross-wise instead of straight down the shaft.

3. At ten years, it’s quite likely your Robin Hood has shot straight down the shaft a few times.

4. Your Robin Hood must seek to improve every week.

SOME QUICK TIPS

unless you’re Walt Wilhem, you always pull from your back, not your arm

you never fire an arrow

back quivers are quieter and more mobile than hip quivers (suck it hipsters)

it takes practice and long fingers, but it’s quite doable to hold both a bow and an arrow in one hand while shooting

there is a system for very fast nocking 

beginners have no clue what this system is and so take several minutes to nock their arrow.

contrast, it takes a second for an experienced archer.

someone who doesn’t take long to aim is often called a snap shooter, and this isn’t exactly complimentary.

This ought to take you far in your journey of writing an archer. I’ve been sitting on this post for about a year now, but still need to add to it. PLEASE google the following in case I don’t get to sharing the info.

arrow breakage

bow breaking

materials for arrows

types of wood for bows

types of wood for arrows

arrow spine weight

bow tuning

bow shelfs

different forms

holding a bow

stringing a bow

bow at rest

temperatures + bows

fletching types

aerodynamics 

quivers

moving around

how to find the goddamn arrows

[freddyjoncs]

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴏ ᴄᴏʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ

statistics

inspired  by :  fred jones (  mystery incorporated  / live action scooby doo ) / added inspo ! ,  fox mulder  (  x-files  )  ,  michael emerson  (  the lost boys  )  ,  dean winchester  (  supernatural )  , steven crain (  the haunting of hill house  ) , conrad fisher ( the summer i turned pretty ), sebastian valmont (  cruel intentions  ). inspo for coolsville : fear street trilogy, IT ( 2017 / 2019 ) , stranger things & scream the tv series. 

full name. frederick herman jones jr.  faceclaim. dacre montgomery ( future : tom hardy ) dob. november 22 zodiac. sagittarius occupation. leader of mystery inc. birthplace. coolsville, ohio. orientation. bisexual/biromantic song. teeth - 5 seconds of summer. film. scream education. graduated walt university with a degree in parapsychology. temperament. choleric ( leader-like, argumentative, practical ) mbti. estj ( strong willed, judgemental, difficulty expressing emotions ) alignment. chaotic neutral abilities. n/a. hogwarts house. gryffindor emoji.  ( 🧐 )

present !! ( bio can be found here )

freddy came to elias to figure out the truth behind the note left for him. he was told here that all would be uncovered, so far it has.in his time in elias freddy has discovered the truth about his father and the truth about coolsville being cursed.

with the help of mystery inc, freddy plans on saving their town. it’s the first real mystery the gang has come face to face with. the dangers are real.

he’s still atoning for who he was in the past. he doesn’t expect the gang to completely forgive him but he’s trying.

he’s a little nicer. the old freddy shows sometimes. now that he’s not in the shadow of his father he’s shedding the image his dad expected from him and trying to live his truth. it’s hard for him to remember who once was or figure out who he actually is to his core. he’s trying to be better but the thing is he doesn’t know how. ( therapy frederick therapy )

while he’s worked up the courage to open up to daphne, he has yet to tell shaggy and velma the whole truth as to why they were brought to elias.

there’s a lot of trauma he’s experienced whether he knows it or not and a lot healing freddy needs to go through. he’s yet to do so. he’s no longer in his denial stage. he’s now in his anger stage. it’s mostly directed towards his father. how he deals with that anger ? isolation.

he’s all but thrown himself into work. while he tries to get out more and make friends, freddy’s completely consumed and obsessed with the case.

mickey / maleficent debate ? he doesn’t care. unless there’s someone here who can help him freddy doesn’t care. though, he teters the line of good and dark. swayed the wrong way and freddy could easily walk the path maleficent has set. will he ??? who knows !! not me !! he’s got a dangerous book in his possession

songs associated with this time frame : jason - the midnight & nikki flores, running up that hill ( a deal with god ) - kate bush, same guy - jack harlow ft. adam levine, out of time - the weekend, hayloft ii ( smashup ) - mother mother

past !!

tw: freddy’s past touches on kidnapping, cheating & neglectful parent. please read with caution.

born jason chiles to brad chiles and judy reeves, freddy was taken as ransom from his parents and as an heir to frederick jones, sr.

you see, long ago before freddy was even a glint in his mother’s eyes, his adoptive father’s ancestors made a deal with the devil. the jones family would prosper the only catch ? sacrifices were to be made. this is how the coolsville we know today formed. mysteries, murders and more. freddy’s birth parents had gotten too close to the truth which lead freddy to be taken from them.  ( more about it here. )

freddy’s father had no kids of his own so when he took freddy he planned to mold freddy into the perfect son. the jones were powerful people in the town of coolsville. being the mayor’s son meant that freddy was always held to a certain standard not only by his father but by the people of coolsville. 

he lived a lonely childhood, his father often tossed him to the side. he rarely spent time with freddy. his closest companions were the butler and his nanny. they raised freddy more than his own father did. the only time he ever saw his dad was when he was scolded. 

however, there was too much of his real parents in freddy. the boy was had an interest in the paranormal. he would sneak books in and read them late at night under the covers, stay after school to watch horror movies and when he met daphne, velma and shaggy he finally felt like he had found people who understood him. the people his father associated with, the elites of coolsville, they didn’t get him. the kids often found freddy weird. who liked to build traps for fun ? who knew that much knowledge about ghost and ghouls ? it was embarrassing. he wasn’t one of them and it showed. 

eventually word got back to the mayor about his son’s interest. not only did he not need his son snooping to the truth too soon, the jones family also had a reputation to uphold. he let freddy have his little gang of misfits until high school came around. he didn’t give his son a choice or an ultimatum, he forbid freddy from seeing any of them again, except daphne since she came from a family with power, and removed all of freddy’s beloved books, movies and anything to do with the paranormal. from that day on freddy played the part his father expected of him. it was also the second time he had come to fear his dad.

freshman year rolled around and freddy was no longer the innocent and nice kid he once was. he was corrupted by power and popularity. he dropped velma and shaggy without a single word, just cut them off completely. his relationship with daphne wasn’t the greatest either. when they were younger he was oblivious to her feelings until he wasn’t. they were sweet and cute. typical childhood friends to lovers and high school sweethearts but once freddy began to get older he realized he didn’t know how to love someone. not the way someone deserved at least and daphne deserved better. he never received love or affection from his father. he had no mother, only a photo that was claimed to be her ( it wasn’t even his mom it was a cut out of a model in magazine ), daphne loved him so much and held on so tight and that scared freddy. it caused him to push her away, to close himself off and destruct. because of his popularity and name, girls often threw themselves at freddy. he didn’t give in at first but he knew daphne would leave if he did. so he broke her heart, if only to save her from himself. 

freddy never cared for the popularity. he didn’t care he was the golden boy, the star of the lacrosse and football team & the king of coolsville high, none of it mattered to him because deep down he knew how alone he was. people only wanted to befriend him because of his name and what he could get them. the only genuine friends freddy ever had he threw away. 

along the way freddy began to resent his father. he finally saw the man for who he was and their relationship was turbulent at best. anytime the mayor actually acknowledged his son the it always ended in a fight. even with freddy doing what he wanted it wasn’t enough for him. freddy wasn’t enough for his dad and that was a hard pill to swallow.

one day after coming home he expected to be greeted by the same empty home he always knew but instead he found a note taped to his door. within the note it gave details of his true origins telling young freddy that if he wanted to know the truth of who he was he needed to travel to Elias, California for answers. it was mystery for sure, one he knew he couldn’t solve alone. there were only three people who could help him solve this and they were no longer in his life. it was then freddy knew he needed to renuinte mystery incorporated 

songs associated with this time frame : i’m just a kid - simple plan, closer - nine inch nails, super rich kids - frank ocean, the family jewels- marina, youngblood - 5 seconds of summer, daddy issues - the neighbourhood

future !!

in the future, freddy and gang will hopefully break the curse of coolsville and free their town. it also means freddy would have to face his father. how that ends i don’t know. only time will tell.

freddy would continue to run mystery inc in the future, make it a whole business that travels outside of elias. the gang would probably travel all over the world solving mysteries.

he would write a book about his experiences. from his true origins to the biggest case of his life. a movie would be adapted, like a whole franchise could come from mystery inc. 

the biggest thing is .. i want freddy to heal man has so much baggage and pain. he deserves to love and be loved. he deserves to have some peace. would love to see a therapy arc. he would discover who freddy actually is since he’s played a part his whole life.

the idea of family and being a parent would scare him. he would think he wouldn’t be at being a husband or father because of his upbringing but it think because of it freddy would work hard to break the cycle. he’d also have to work hard to be a good dad and father. he’d have doubts, of course, but if he grows like i hope it won’t be as hard.  

songs associated with this time frame : self care - mac miller, once in a lifetime- all time low, seventeen going under - sam fender, therapy, all time low,  i still believe - tim capello

taken connections

brad chiles & judy reeves / birth parents .

frederick jones, sr. / adoptive father .

daphne baykam / ex-girlfriend, 1/4 mystery inc .

shaggy rogers /  friend , 1/4 mystery inc .

velma dinkley / friend , 1/4 mystery inc .

serena fain / friend .

wanted connections

fellow paranormal lovers : if your characters loves spooky things hit up elias’ resident detective  [ open ]

hookups : freddy’s been in elias for a long ass time. it’s only natural he’d meet with some people here ... and there ... trying to fill a space that be ... craving the touch of another human aha... [ open ]

enemies : he’s not always the nicest so i’m sure freddy’s ruffled some feathers here and there [ open ]

sibling ship : freddy’s an only child so i’d love for him to have a relationship with someone that’s like a sibling to him whether it be older or younger [ open ]

drunk friends : aka two people who do not spend time together sober but get along only when drunk. [ open ]

( PINTEREST BOARD , PLAYLIST & MUSING TAG ( PT. 2 )

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LUNATIC PARADE ;; Ayato Route ー Chapter 4

ー The scene starts in front of Bernstein Castle

Yui: ( I just hope the Count will let us see him... )

*Knock knock*

Excuse me. Um...

ー The gate opens

Butler: ...We have been awaiting your arrival. Please, come in.

Ayato: Che, seems like the Count knows exactly what’s up after all.

Yui: Yeah...

( However, if he’s allowing us inside the castle, that means he’s willing to listen to what we have to say, right...? )

ー The two of them enter the castle

*Pssh*

*Thud*

Butler: Master will arrive shortly. May I please ask you to wait a few more minutes.

Yui: ...Thank you very much.

ー The door opens

Count Walter: Why hello, you two. Since you have chosen to return to this castle a second time, I assume you have set all of your misconducts straight?

Ayato: Che, this guy has no shame, does he? Look at him talk as if he doesn’t already know everything...

Yui: Well, actually...ーー

ー Yui explains everything

Yui: ーー And there you have it. Therefore, we are unable to fix the key...

Count Walter: Hm, I see. However, that means you fail to meet my conditions.

Unfortunately, I fear I won’t be able to return the heart to you...

No, however...A key, huh...? My apologies, could you perhaps show me said key for a second?

Ayato: ...? The key? Sure? It’s broken and can’t be used though.

*Cling*

Count Walter: ...This is...!

Ayato: ...What? Is there somethin’ fishy ‘bout it after all?

Count Walter: I want you to tell me everything you know about the individual who handed you this key.

Yui: The individual...? Well, he’s the owner of the cellar which connects to the underground waterway...

Ayato: From the looks of it, he’s plottin’ somethin’ with a bunch of other shady dudes. Their sneaky behavior really screamed trouble.

Count Walter: ...I see. Just as I thought...

Yui: Um...Does it ring a bell, perhaps?

Count Walter: ...I assume those people are the gang of young Wolves who have been causing trouble all around this area as of late.

This key most likely opens the door to my personal basement. ...They must be planning to invade this castle.

Yui: Eh...? Then...

Ayato: Then what should we do? We can’t get them to forgive us unless we get that key fixed.

But if we repair the key, we’ll pretty much help them commit a crime, no?

Count Walter: ...Well, that’s what it would come down to.

Yui: Then, this case...

Count Walter: ...Fufu. Do you perhaps think that this has solved everything, Miss?

Yui: ...I mean...

( To get the owner of that house to forgive us, we have to do something which would directly disadvantage the Count... )

 ( So wouldn’t it make sense if he lets this one slide to avoid having his own castle invaded...? )

Count Walter: Please do not panic. I will not deny that these are unforeseen circumstances.

Let me make you a new offer.

Ayato: Haah? What do you mean!?

Count Walter: For example, if you lend me a helping hand in seizing those Wolves...

I would not mind returning the heart in question as a reward. ...How does that sound?

Ayato: Aah!? Where does that suddenly come from!? Can’t we let the Police handle that gang!?

Count Walter: Haha. What a funny thing to say. Ayato...Seems like you’ve taken your Father’s orders to heart and have become rather adapted to your life in the human world.

A convenient organization such as the ‘police’ does not exist in this town. Have you forgotten that? Fufu...

Ayato: Che, oh fuck off! It just slipped my mind for a second!

Anyway, we don’t know how many opponents we’re dealin’ with, so how are we supposed to handle this all on our own?

Count Walter: Like I said, slow down. I never said you had to do it on your own, did I?

Oi, bring our guests in!

ー The doors open once more

Yui: ...!

( These people... )

Ayato: O-Oi, these guys...

Count Walter: I had them gathered here because I had a hunch this might happen. What do you say? They seem familiar, no?

Yui: ( The Pretzel and Crepe Vendors...As well as the Locksmith...Everyone... )

Count Walter: Every single one of them has decided to give you their forgiveness.

On top of that, they are willing to help us take care of this gang.

Pretzel Vendor: Those guys who tried to destroy my shop belong to that gang as well.

The Parade is when we make the most money, so I don’t appreciate them getting in the way of my business.

Locksmith: I can’t stand the thought of knowing that I nearly ended up helping a bunch of thugs commit a crime either.

My skills are to help others, not to aid someone in their thievery. 

Count Walter: ...As you can tell, the people of this town are more than fed up with this gang.

They have been playing with the idea of taking care of them soon. You could say that right now is the perfect opportunity.

Ayato: Heeh, so basically we’ll all work together to completely wipe out this gang, right?

Sure thing. Count me in. However, I do have one condition.

Count Walter: ...What would that be?

Ayato: Return her heart right here, right now.

Yui: ...!

Ayato: I’ve been on edge this whole time, worryin’ that perhaps she’ll collapse again.

I’d be way too distracted to efficiently take care of some gang when like this...

Besides...I don’t want to see her suffer one second longer.

If you return her heart, I’ll assure you that I’ll take care of those thugs down to the very last one...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: Please! Save her...I’m beggin’ you...!

Count Walter: ...

Yui: ( Ayato-kun...Having to lower his head to someone should be the thing he hates most... )

Count Walter: ...Sakamaki Ayato. You were not lying just now, were you?

Ayato: Aah? Lyin’? As if!

Count Walter: ...I see.

But are you sure? By returning her heart, she will once again become the target of other Vampires.

Ayato: I figured that might be the case, so I had Mr. Four-Eyes Smarty-Pants arrange me some Vampire repellent. 

Besides, I’ll be there to protect her, so she has nothin’ to worry ‘bout!

Count Walter: ...Very well. I must say I am impressed by your words just now.

One could say that entrusting the two of you with said heart once more could be interesting in its own regard, I suppose...

Yui: ...!

Ayato: ...Then!

Count Walter: Very well. I shall return the heart to you for now.

Yui: ...Thank you very much!

Count Walter: ...However, it is too early to be relieved, you see? Depending on the actions you take, I could easily steal it once again.

If you fail to catch the gang, to give one example. Understood?

Ayato: Of course! We’ll make sure none of them get away!

Count Walter: Fufu. I am very much looking forward to that. Well then, let us get this strategy meeting started at once.

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Saint Nore Park’s venue

Ayato: He said that we’ll put the plan into action...Right as the Parade comes to an end, right?

Yui: Yeah...We still have some time.

Ayato: Right. Now what to do...Oh, hey, Chichinashi. Let’s ride that one. Over there.

Yui: The ferris wheel...?

Ayato: Yeah! In the end, the Parade’s gonna come to an end no matter what.

So don’t you think it’d be nice to get a nice overview of everythin’ before it does?

Yui: ...Good idea.

( The Parade will end tonight... )

( In the end, I wasn’t able to enjoy it together with Ayato-kun in peace... )

( However, I’m plenty happy just being able to spend time together like this. )

( Besides...Our true time to shine has yet to come... )

ー The scene shifts to inside the ferris wheel

Yui: ( Once we get off the ferris wheel, it’ll almost be time to get started with the plan... )

( It was decided we would serve as decoy, carrying a fake key with us... )

ー A flashback ensues

Count Walter: There is one thing I must warn you about.

They are experts at handling explosives. They might use them this time as well.

Therefore it is very important that you proceed with the plan without them realizing your true intentions.

...Including that part, the success or failure of this whole strategy depends on you two. Can I count on you?

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( Our opponent has explosives...We might find ourselves in danger... )

( Ayato-kun... )

Selection

→ Grab his hand (☾)

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Why did you suddenly grab my hand...?

You love doin’ this, don’t you? ...Hehe.

Yui: ...I mean...Uu...

Ayato: Let’s get this over with quickly and make the best of the Parade, ‘kay?

Yui: ( ...He squeezed my hand back... )

→ Stare at him

Ayato: ...Why are you starin’ at me like that...?

Yui: ...I mean...

Ayato: ...Did you get scared after hearin’ ‘bout the explosives or somethin’? 

Yui: ...

Ayato: Haah...Don’t worry. It’s just a lil’ bomb.

Yui: ...But.

Ayato: Say, Yui? Once we get off the ferris wheel, you should head back to the hotel first. 

Yui: Eh...?

Ayato: I’ll head to their hideout by myself. Don’t worry. I can ensure you everythin’ will go as pla...

Yui: ...You can’t do that! I can’t possibly...let you go by yourself...

I’ll go with you...!

Ayato: ...But we might be dealin’ with some seriously dangerous guys, you know? The Count said there’s a lot of them as well...

Yui: ...Exactly...I can’t let you go to such a dangerous place all by yourself...

I don’t want to...

Ayato: Yui...

Yui: ...Besides, they might grow suspicious if you show up by yourself, don’t you think?

If there’s a woman with you, they might let down their guard a little...

I got my heart back as well, so I promise I’ll carry my weight...

So please, take me with you...I’m begging you...!

Ayato: ...

Yui: ( Anyway, I don’t want him going by himself... )

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Haah, you’re such a pain in the ass...

Fine. In return, don’t you dare leave my side, ‘kay? Can you promise that?

Yui: ...Yeah, I promise.

Ayato: Okay. Let’s go together then. I’ll protect you, no matter what happens.

...So stay with me.

Yui: Ayato-kun...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Oh, check it out! The view’s quite nice.

Yui: You’re right...How pretty...

Ayato: To be honest, I was really hopin’ we could get this all over with sooner so I could enjoy the Parade with you...

Yui: ...

Say, Ayato-kun?

Ayato: Hm? What?

Yui: You see, I...I’ve been having this dream lately.

Ayato: ...Dream?

Yui: Yeah...I don’t know for sure, but I think it might be the Count showing me this dream...

Ayato: ...The Count?

Yui: ...Inside that dream, you see. He told me. That you’re only trying to save me because of my heart...

And that you don’t actually care for me as a person...

Ayato: ...That’s not...!

Yui: But don’t worry. I’m well aware...You’re not that kind of guy.

I know that there’s not a single other individual in this world who cares for me as deeply as you do...

I also believe you...When you say you’ll protect me...

Ayato: ...Yui...

ー He embraces her

*Rustle*

Yui: ...

Ayato: Hmph. You really are a fool. Did that dream have you worried?

Geez, that darn Count. Just when will he stop messin’ with you...?

He pisses me off...!

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Oi, listen carefully.

You are mine, understood? I won’t let anyone else have their way with you ever again.

Not some Count, nor a bunch of thugs...Nobody. Nn...

Yui: ...Nn...

Ayato: ...Nn...

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

( ...I love you... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to Aizen Alleyway

Vampire Child C: Mama, hurry! It’s timeー!

Vampire Mother A: Watch out! You’ll drop your lantern in a hurry!

Ayato: ...Okay, let’s get goin’. Ready?

Yui: Yeah.

( It’s finally time to get our plan started... )

Ayato: ...Are you nervous?

Yui: Eh...? Well, yeah...A little...

Ayato: Hmph. I’m here with you, remember?

Well, you can just think of this as one of the attractions and enjoy the show, ‘kay?

Yui: ( ...Ayato-kun... )

...Yeah.

ー The scene shifts to the underground passage

*Knock*

Ayato: ...Oi. We brought the key as promised.

Owner: ...Ooh, you’re finally here. Come on in.

ー They enter the cellar

Thug A: Hmph. We figured the two of you had run away since it took you so long.

Ayato: Aah? Think again!

Owner: ...Whatever. Anyway, give us the key.

Ayato: Of course. Here...

Yui: ...The key’s right here...

*Cling*

Owner: ...Hooh. It really is...

...That being said, I have to say I’m impressed you managed to fix it. I’m sure you realized that this key is special?

Ayato: Well, yeah. However, that’s no big deal to me.

...Anyway, we’re even now, right?

Owner: Yeah, we are. ...If this key was real, that is...!

*Thud*

Yui: ...Kyah!?

Ayato: ...Yui!?

Owner: Don’t move. If you value this woman’s life at least...

*Cling*

Yui: ( ...He pulled out a knife...! )

Ayato: The fuck you doin’, you bastard!? Let her go at once!

Owner: Fufu...Don’t get your panties in a knot. Once we determine whether this key is real or not, we’ll let her go right away.

It’s real, right? Then you’ve got nothing to worry about. ...Correct?

Ayato: Che...

Thug B: Well, if it turns out to be a fake, we’ll kill her on the spot, of course. Hehe.

Ayato: Say that again!? Fuck off! In your dreams!

Owner: Either way, we’ll know as soon as we put this key in the door in question.

So why don’t we go and try it out right away...?

*Thud*

Yui: ...!

( At this rate, they’ll find out it’s a fake...! )

ー They start walking away

Ayato: Ugh...Wait...! Be a lil’ more gentle with her!

ー The scene shifts to right in front of the door

Owner: Well then, go ahead and open the door...

*Cling*

Ayato: ...Fine...

Yui: ( Oh no...We have to find an opening somehow, or the two of us will... )

Ayato: ...

Yui: Ayato-kun...

Ayato: ...Don’t worry. Everything’s fine...

*Clunk*

*Ba-dump・ba-dump・ba-dump*

Yui: ( ...God, please...! )

*CLICK*

Ayato: ...The key...?

Yui ( ...It worked...? )

Owner: ...Hooh.

Ayato: ...See? Didn’t I tell you? There’s no way we’d bring you a fa...

*Creaaak*

Yui: ( ...The door opened by itself...? )

???: Now’s our chance! Seize them!!

???: Uooooh!!

ー The other people storm out of the door

Thug A: Wha...!?

Owner: ...What’s going on!?

Thug B: Pull back! We’re retreatin’ for now!!

ー They start running away

Crepe Vendor: Hah! You wish!

Yui: ( From behind as well, the others!! )

Ayato: Yui!! Now’s your chance! Come here!! 

Yui: Ayato-kun...!

Owner: Che, not on my watch!

*Rustle*

Yui: Kuh...!

Ayato: Yui...!

Owner: Everyone, back off! Or else, she’s a goner!

Locksmith: Che...How dare you resort to such filthy tactics...!

Owner: Hah! Run your mouth all you want! Come on, woman. This way!!

*Rustle*

Yui: Ayato-kun!

ー He runs off with Yui

Ayato: Fuck! You’re not gettin’ away!! ...Wait!!

ー The scene shifts back to the cellar

*Thud*

Yui: Kyah...

( This is...the cellar... )

Owner: Haah...Haah...God, we were so close too! You little pests...

...Now that it’s come to this, I just gotta blow up this whole cellar along with all evidence which could lead back to us!

Woman...That includes you, get it...? Hehe...

*Pang pang*

Yui: ( ...This is...! )

( There’s explosives hidden inside the wall...! )

*Thud thud*

Ayato: Yui!! Are you unharmed!! You bastard...! Open this door right now!!

*THUD THUD*

Yui: Uu...!

Ayato-kun! Don’t come in here!!

Gather everyone and run away together!!

Ayato: Aah!? You really think I can do that!?

Yui: Please! Listen to me! There’s a bomb in here...!

Ayato: Ugh...! Then I definitely can’t leave you behind and run!!

Fuck!! Yui! Yui...!!

*THUD THUD*

Owner: Hehe...If you have any final words, now’s your chance.

*Flash*

Yui: ( ...He lit the fuse...! )

Owner: Too bad, this is the end...

*THUD*

Ayato: ーー !!

Yui: Ayato-kun, no! Run...ーー!!

Ayato: Hell no!! Didn’t I tell you that you’re mine!?

I won’t abandon you, even if it kills meーー!!

*BANG BANG*

ー The screen fades to white

Ayato: Ugh...!!

Yui: Kyaaaah!!

( Ayato-kun...!! )

*BANG*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 3

→ PROCEED TO NORMAL ENDING

→ PROCEED TO FINALE ENDING

[collecting-stories]

Body Electric - JJ Maybank

Request: Hi love , I have been feeling really insecure about my body lately and I was wondering if you could do a imagine were the reader compares herself to Sarah and kie when she gets in a fight with jj and the jj comforts her and just holds her while she cries into his arms ?!! ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: Inspired in part by Julia Michaels’ Body and by Walt Whitman’s I Sing the Body Electric.

Outer Banks Masterlist 

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You knew that you had been awful lately. You couldn’t make any sort of excuse for it. There was no specific reason that you could give for the way you had been acting, or at least no reason that you would want JJ to hear. How could you tell him that lately you couldn’t stand going to the beach or out on the boat or even just to John B’s. That being around Kiara and Sarah was like forcing you to endure a never-ending loop of personal torture. Muttering in the back of your head, voices that kept getting louder and louder, comparing every inch of your body to them. And who could blame you, both of them were beautiful, it didn’t matter what they did, they always looked flawless.  

It was unfair, really, and you were being unfair to JJ in return. At this point you thought he probably thought that you hated him. It had been days since you’d seen him. Or anyone.  

When the familiar insecurities started up again, set off by nothing but Kiara pulling JJ over to dance with her during a party, you had tried to ignore. Tried to remind yourself that you were being a little crazy and that you were pretty and that, obviously, JJ liked you. He was dating you. But those voices never let you live. You imagined a million different ones, other people, to make you feel better. But it was never other people, it was just your voice.

Were the people in line behind you talking about you when you ordered a full fat latte at the coffee shop. Did the guy standing at the counter make that face because he hated his job or because he was trying not to laugh at how ridiculous you looked in shorts? Should you stop wearing shorts? And crop tops? And anything that drew attention to your body.  

At first you were just awful. You snapped at JJ all the time, you were mean every time he said something and every time you wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him, it was you. And you just needed to take it out on someone.

But then you started canceling plans. If you didn’t go out, if you no one had to see you, maybe that would be better.  

“Can we please just talk?” But JJ was persistent. You could yell at him a thousand times and he would keep coming back because he knew you. He knew something was bothering you and he was determined to figure out what it was.  

“We are talking.” You called back, turning your head to look at the door. You were laying on your bed, wishing you could be swallowed up into it.  

“You know what I mean.” He sighed, trying the door handle again. You had locked it and he knew it was locked but it was like watching the end of a movie over and over hoping that it changed. Maybe if he kept trying the outcome would be different. And he couldn’t help thinking that maybe all these problems could be solved if he could talk to you face to face.  

“I already told you I’m not going, just go away JJ.”  

“Look,” JJ had tried every other explanation but it always came back around to this one, “if you want to break up, that’s fine but, you shouldn’t punish everyone else. If you feel like you can’t hang out with them, I can stay away for a while.”  

“I don’t want to break up with you.” The lock clicked and the door opened. You stood there in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, as if they could distort the way you looked enough that everyone who saw you might forget.  “You should break up with me though.”  

“Why?” More genuinely curious than anything.

“Because,” you stressed the word like it explained every issue that you had with the situation. You walked back into your room but you didn’t shut the door and JJ followed you. “Because I saw the way you were dancing with Kie-”

“What are you talking about?”  

“At the party!” You snapped. “At the party, I saw you and you guys fit so well together you should be with someone like that.”

“I don’t...” JJ shook his head, trying to get himself from point A to point B and understand what you were even insinuating, “I mean, we dance together all the time.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I don’t know what the point is!” He snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.”

“You should be dating some like Kie or Sarah...someone really pretty and...stop!” You pulled away from him when he tried to get close to you, holding your hand out. “We just don’t match.”

“Because you think you're not pretty?”  

“I know I’m not.”  

JJ shrugged, “well I know you are, so what are we gonna do about that?”  

“You don’t understand,” you attempted, better accuse him of not ‘getting’ what you were going through then have to admit that it was all just you, in your head, sabotaging yourself.  

“Maybe not exactly but, you think I don’t ever feel like that?” JJ replied, “fuck, I mean, every time you talk to Pope I feel that way.”

“It’s not the same.”  

“Yeah it is, we’re both being irrational.” He argued, “do you think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

“Would you rather date someone like Pope?”  

“No, JJ,-“

“Exactly.” He stressed, cutting you off. “I don’t wanna “I don’t wanna date Kie or Sarah or somebody who looks like them. I wanna date you. I like you. Can I?” He reaches his hand out for you hesitantly, cautious that you would just reject him again. But you nodded and he took that as sign enough to wrap his arms around you and hug you.  

“I just hate the way I look sometimes,” you admitted, voice a little muffled by his sweatshirt but not enough for him to miss the venom that laced through the word hate. Like you were expelling the actual feeling and not just saying the word.  

“For what it’s worth, I love you, and the way you look.” JJ replied, kissing the side of your head. “I love those jeans you have  that you always say are too tight on your thighs cause I wedge my hand in the holes and you always have the softest skin. Like when you stay over at the Chateau and we get the pull out, I love holding you. I love watching you surf cause you’re incredible at it, probably better than me but don’t tell anyone. Anything you wear, anything you do, I love it.”  

“You’re such a sap,” you laughed but JJ could see that familiar gleam in your eyes, the glassiness that only came when you were seconds from crying. “I needed it though.”  

“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing you know, you always have my attention.”  

You nodded, “you always have mine too you know.”

“Yeah well, that’s a given,” JJ teased, pulling away from you enough to guide you toward your bed. “I mean I’m pretty irresistible.”  

“I can’t argue with that,” you laughed, “what about the party though?”  

“Screw a party, we can have one of our own.”  

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts  @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @aoba-josigh @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @dpaccione @bbeauttyybbx @jolomez

[americasass91]

Healing Ransom

Hello beautiful people!! This will be my first (I’m sure of many) submissions for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ amazing Autumn Challenge! Fall is my favorite time of the year! It’s got beautiful colors! Pumpkin everything! And Halloween? You just can’t beat it! I hope you enjoy this little story. It stars our one and only Mean Sweater Murder Daddy, Ransom!

Verbal Prompts:

“Please don’t be sad for me.”

“Shove it, satan.”

Location/activity prompts:

Walking through a park with leaves

Jumping in/raking leaves

Words: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit(of course it is😋)

Warnings: smut, Ransom being his usual dickish self, slight angst, death of minor character, funerals, sadness, language

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You had only been asleep for about an hour and a half when you were abruptly woken up by a cell phone vibrating loudly.

You open one eye and look towards the nightstand your phone is on. It’s silent. That means it’s his phone.

You smack your fuck buddy on the back of the head. “Ow, Y/N what the actual fuck?”

You turn over and pull the covers higher up on your naked body. “Your phone’s ringing asshole.”

He mumbles something under his breath you don’t quite catch as he reaches for his phone. “It’s Linda. Ugh she’s probably drunk again and calling to tell me how worthless I am. Fuck her.”

He throws the phone down on the bed and gets comfortable. “And why are you still here? You know how I feel about you spending the night.”

You raise your hand and flip him off. “You’re the one that fucked me into submission. I can’t help it that I fell asleep right after. Don’t worry, your highness, I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

He’s about to reply when his phone starts vibrating right against your ass. You shriek and sit up and grab the phone.

Before Ransom even comprehends that you have it, you answer.

“Hello, Linda. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to Ransom please.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

You hand the phone to Ransom who looks at you incredulously. “Just take it. She sounds upset.”

He just rolls his eyes and snatches the phone from you. “Mother, why in the fuck are you calling me at 3 in the morning?”

You’re not entirely sure what she’s saying but Ransom went from being annoyed to showing no emotion on his face.

“When?...Who found him?...Okay..well, thanks for letting me know.” He hangs up and throws the phone back onto the nightstand.

He’s silent for a few minutes. He looks over at your questioning stare.

“My father died. Heart attack. His maid found him. Guess he’d been there for awhile.”

You immediately go to pull him into a hug. “Oh, Ransom. I’m so sorry.”

He pushes you away. “Please don’t be sad for me. He was a piece of shit who smoked like a chimney and never took care of himself. It was just a matter of time before something liked this happened.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “But he was your dad, Ransom. It’s okay to be sad about it.” You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand and yanks you onto his lap. “I’m not sad. I don’t actually feel anything. It’s not like we had any kind of a relationship. Now how about since we’re both awake we go for round 5?”

You just roll your eyes and let him take your body to euphoria once more.

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That following Saturday you wake up to the sight of beautiful changing leaves. God you love Fall. It was the best time of the year in your opinion. Pumpkin everything? Yes please! Halloween? Oh, fuck yeah! Your favorite holiday.

You decide you can’t let this beauty go to waste. You throw back the covers and quickly dress in some leggings and a burgundy sweater you’re pretty sure belongs to Ransom.

You can’t help but admire all the beautiful Fall colors as you begin your walk. You don’t even need music right now. You feel so at peace during this particular morning. All the beautiful colors. The slight chill in the air. The smell of cider someone is selling from a cart up the way. You’re definitely going to have to get some of that.

You spot a pile of leaves on your way to the cart and you have the strongest urge to run and jump in them. You stop walking and look around. You’re alone. Fuck it.

You take off and giggle like a little girl again as you launch yourself at the pile of leaves. You lose yourself in them. Forgetting everything for a moment and just enjoying the freeing feeling. You’re enjoying it so much you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You sit up and fish it out to see who’s interrupting your childlike moment. Ransom. You roll your eyes. The only time he calls you is when he wants sex. You’re just going to have to tell him you’re too busy at the moment.

You answer and put the phone to your ear as you lay back amongst the leaves. “Ransom, I cannot come over for some fuckery right now. I’m in my happy place.”

“Y/N. Hey. That’s not why I’m calling. Linda just called to let me know the funeral is tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d go with me?”

He doesn’t sound like himself. Sad almost. “Sure, Ran. Of course I’ll be there. Just let me know what time.”

“Visitation is from 2-4. The funeral starts right after. Then of course we’ll go bury him. Sorry your whole day will be full. I know how much you love your weekends.”

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air as if he can see it. “Ransom, don’t worry about that. This is more important. And besides, Monday is Columbus Day so I have an extra day off.”

“So that means you’ll be able to spend the night with me tomorrow night?”

You feel butterflies in your stomach. He’s never asked you to spend the night.

“Well, sure if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll need to fuck all of my frustrations out from being around my family all day.”

Ah, there’s the ulterior motive. You feel your heart sink a little. “Yeah, sure. How about I’ll just come to your place tomorrow around 1 and we can head over to the funeral together?”

“Sure, sure. Look I have to go. I have to try to get this chapter written today. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course. Good luck with the chapter.”

“Oh and Y/N? Have fun playing in the leaves.”

With that he hangs up. You look around to make sure he’s nowhere around. How did he know you were in a pile of leaves?

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You head into the funeral with Ransom at around 1:45. Despite everything you can’t help but notice he looks handsome in his dark blue suit.

“God I hate funerals.” He says as he gazes around the room. He spots Linda.

“Well, who likes them?” You ask him as she approaches.

She throws her arms around Ransom’s neck. He reluctantly returns the hug.

“Oh, Ransom! I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Ransom just rolls his eyes as he looks at you. He mouths ‘Help me’

You put your hand on Linda’s back. “Oh, Linda. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

She lets go of Ransom and turns towards you. “Thank you dear. Even though he wasn’t my husband anymore I still loved him. A part of me always will.”

You glance over at Ransom who’s trying to avoid Walt that just walked in. You can’t help but know how she feels about loving someone like that. You love Ransom no matter what the 2 of you are. You think you always will.

You nod your head. “Of course you will. He was a big part of your life. And he’s Ransom's dad. He’ll always have a special place in your heart.”

She pulls you in for a hug. When she pulls back she cups your cheek. “I’m well aware that you’re too good for my son. But please don’t leave him. He can’t do any better than you.”

With that she heads over to greet more people filing in. You stand there shocked at her words. Linda has never been unpleasant towards you but that was the nicest damn thing she’s ever said to you.

You spot Ransom leaning against the opposite wall as far away from the other people as he can get.

You head over and stop in front of him with your arms crossed. “Ransom, aren’t you supposed to be talking to your family? Letting people give their condolences.”

“Fuck these people, Y/N. None of them gave a shit about Richard. I bet half of the women in this room fucked him at one point.”

You look around wide eyed to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Luckily they weren’t. “Jesus, Ransom be quiet! This is a funeral. And unlike you, some people are here to grieve!”

“Whatever, Y/N! You’re such a bitch. You didn’t like him either! You always called him a creep! So don’t stand there and act live you give a shit that he’s dead!”

Your mouth drops open. God he’s such an asshole! “You know what, fuck you Ransom! I do give a shit! Just because I thought he was a creep doesn’t mean I wanted him to die! I understand you’re grieving right now but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. Maybe you should find somebody else to fuck out your frustrations on!”

By now the whole room is looking at you 2. You didn’t mean to be so loud but god dammit did he piss you off.

“You know what, Y/N? Maybe I will! Fuck off!”

He pushes away from the wall and stomps towards the door. “SHOVE IT, SATAN!” You can’t help but yell after him. You then take a look around the room and see everyone staring at you. “Sorry about that.” You quickly leave the room and head towards the kitchen area. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around and see Meg following you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? God he is such a piece of shit.” She pulls you in for a hug,

You return it gratefully. “Thanks but I’m just worried about Linda. She’s already upset and I am certainly not making things any easier.”

She scoffs as she pulls away from you. “Oh, please! She was chuckling when you called him satan. Said it was an accurate name for him.”

You smile at her feeling relieved. “That’s good then. How are you holding up?”

She returns your smile. “I’m okay. Uncle Richard and I didn’t have a close relationship but I’ll still miss our debates we had.”

You nod in understanding. “I guess I should go find satan.”

Before you have a chance to leave the kitchen, Ransom comes in. He comes over and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t want to be here and I’m sick of these people pretending to grieve when I know they don’t care and I took my anger out on you. You were nice enough to be here with me today, you don’t deserve how I treated you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He never apologizes for anything. You pull away from the hug and cup his cheek. “It’s okay. Apology accepted. You get a free pass today. Now how about we head back in?”

He grabs your wrist and places a kiss on your palm. “Okay, will you stay by me?”

You pull him in for a quick peck. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

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The funeral was tastefully done. Ransom refused to ride over in the limo with the rest of the family. He said he wanted to drive over with you.

You pull into the cemetery and get out of the car. You look around for the gravesite. You don’t see one. “Ran, where’s the gravesite?”

Ransom just chuckles and points at the hill. “On the top of the hill. He wanted to be buried in the most expensive spot.”

You look down at your black pumps and then over at the slightly muddy hill. Well this should be fun.

Ransom sees your hesitation. “There’s a brick pathway. Your shoes are safe.”

You sigh in relief. Thank god. You follow the crowd that has now gathered toward the path. Ransom follows in step beside you. He grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. You feel those stupid butterflies in your stomach again.

You can’t help but admire the beautiful fall foliage. It puts a smile on your face despite the sad day.

Ransom rolls his eyes playfully at you. “You and your Fall.”

“It’s beautiful, Ransom! How can you not love it?”

You’re too busy looking at all the leaves to notice him staring at you. “Yeah, it is beautiful.”

You reach the gravesite and stand with Ransom near the front. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. If anything he’s holding onto it tighter.

You can’t help but let some tears fall as the minister says some more beautiful words. You chance a glance at Ransom and you see him wipe a single tear from his face. That makes you give his hand a reaffirming squeeze.

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Ransom wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck out his frustrations on you. He took you right against the wall as soon as you walked into his house. Then again on the island in the kitchen. And again on the stairs. (You’re sure to have bruises from that escapade). Finally finishing in his bed. You passed out almost right after the last one.

You woke up around 2 am with the urge to pee. You look over and see Ransom’s side of the bed empty. He must be downstairs rehydrating after all that fucking. You decide to quickly pee and then head down to find him.

He’s not in the kitchen like you thought. You’re about to go check his study to see if he’s up writing when you see a light on in the living room. You head in and see him sitting on the couch. His back is to you so he hasn’t realized you’re in the room yet. There’s something sitting on his coffee table. You move forward quietly trying not to disturb him in case he wants to be alone.

When you get close enough you see that it’s a framed picture of him and his dad. Ransom can’t be older than 16. They have their arms around each other’s shoulders. His prized Beemer is in the background with a big red bow on top.

That’s when you hear the sniffling. You quickly round the couch and see that Ransom is clutching a pillow and sobbing into it. You take a seat next to him. You put a comforting hand on his back and rub it up and down in a soothing manner.

He looks up at you, tears covering his cheeks. “You know I think this is the only picture I have of me and my dad. I think he was happier than me that day. He was so proud to pass his car down to me.”

You just smile sadly and pull him in for a hug. He throws the pillow away and pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. You gently wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I never even knew him, Y/N. And now I’m never gonna get the chance to.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and tightens his arms around your waist. He starts sobbing again.

You rub one hand up and down his back and run your other through his hair. “Shhh, Ransom. I know you’re hurting. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

“I fucking hate this, Y/N! I hate feeling like this. So helpless. And he fucking died alone. That’s gonna be me. I don’t want to die alone.” He looks up at you so innocently. So heartbroken.

You grab his face with both hands. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale, you’re not going to die alone. If you’re that afraid of it then change your ways.”

He lowers his eyes towards his hands that are resting on your hips. “I just hate feeling this way. I didn’t even know him. Why am I so fucking sad?” He looks back up at you.

“Because you didn’t know him and you’re regretting that. It’s too late to do anything about it now. Unfortunately you’re just going to have to deal with it and grieve. Doesn’t mean you can’t change your other relationships though. So you don’t feel like this ever again.”

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in just enough until your lips are touching. “It hurts so much, Y/N. Please help me forget. Even for just a little bit. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He pulls you in for a fierce kiss, enough to take your breath away.

After you gain back some control you push against his chest. “Ransom, I don’t think this is the best way-”

“Please,Y/N? Please take the pain away.”

Your heart breaks. You look him in the eye and nod your head. He pulls you back in for another heated kiss. If this was the only way you could take away his pain, even if temporary, you’ll give it to him.

You put your hands in his hair and give it a tug making him groan. One of his hands moves to your ass, making you grind against his growing erection. The other remains on the back of your neck, not letting you break the kiss. He needs you close right now.

He pulls back from the kiss. “Need you, baby. Please.”

You quickly stand up to remove your pajama shorts and panties while he lowers his sweats just enough to free himself. You straddle him again and stroke his length up and down a few times, smearing his pre-cum all over. You guide him to your entrance and sink down on him. “Fuck, Ransom. Always feels so good.”

You give yourself a few minutes to adjust once your hips are flush against his. He settles his hands on your waist while yours rest on his shoulders. You lean in for a kiss before you start moving up and down on him. Moving at the hard and fast pace you know he always prefers.

“Wait, baby, slow down.” He grips your hips to stop your movements. You look at him confused. He always likes it hard and fast. He tightens his hold on your hips and starts grinding you on him. “Just need to feel you, Y/N. Can we slow down?”

Your heart flutters. “Of course.” You take over and start grinding against him. Keeping a slow rhythm. You throw your head back and moan. God he feels amazing. You can feel every part of him like this. Usually he’s going so fast you don’t get to appreciate the feeling of him dragging along your walls like this. This isn’t about reaching orgasm. This is intimacy. This is about feelings.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck. “You feel so good, baby. You take me so well. Like you were made for me. Made to fit me. My beautiful Y/N.”

You can feel tears well up in your eyes. You know this might not feel the same for him but it’s making you fall even more in love with him than what you already were.

You're not going to last long. Not only are your emotions getting the best of you but your clit is rubbing deliciously against his pelvis. He can feel you fluttering on his cock.

He pulls back and looks at you. “Gonna come for me pretty girl? I can feel you. You’re squeezing me so good. Let go, Y/N. I’m right behind you.”

You fall apart at his words. His name is a whisper on your lips. He buries his face back into the crook of your neck as he meets his end with a groan. Filling you up with everything he has.

You both stay like that for a minute. Just holding each other like you were afraid the other would disappear. He pulls back and looks at you again. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and smiles softly at you. “I love you, Y/N. God I love you so fucking much.”

You feel tears fall down your face. “I love you too, Ransom. Always have and always will. I won’t let you die alone.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “No more of this fuck buddy stuff. I’m in this for real. For the long haul. I can’t feel like this ever again. I can live with how I feel about my dad. But you? I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“We’re talking about a relationship here Ransom. The exact thing you always said you didn’t want. What if it doesn’t work out? What if you change your mind?”

“It will work out, I’ll make sure it does. I won’t be changing my mind. You’re it for me.  But if for some reason you decide I’m not what you want, then at least I can say I tried. I’m willing to regret you for the rest of my life.”

You melt at his words. This is all you’ve ever wanted. For him to love you. Why the fuck were you questioning it?

You lean back in for another kiss. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You lean in for another kiss. “Okay. But I’m exhausted. Can you take me to bed now?”

He chuckles and stands you both up. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

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You wake up the next morning with the biggest smile on your face. Not only did Ransom confess his love for you last night but it was the most beautiful Fall day outside. You wondered if you could convince him to go for a walk with you.

The smell of coffee hits your nose and you quickly throw back the covers to head downstairs. As you turn to head into the kitchen you find Ransom. He’s dialing a number on his phone. His back is to you.

Curious, you stay behind for a minute to see who he’s calling.

“Hello, Mom? Hi. How are you?...Good….Yeah she’s here, she’s upstairs sleeping. I know, I’m not gonna let her go. Hey listen I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me today, just us?”

You can’t help the big smile that spreads across your face. Maybe Ransom was changing after all.

All Cevans characters taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​

[seraphtrevs]

I've always been iffy on jail endings (just the prison abolitionist in me) but at this point I just want Jimmy-wise to be able to find some peace with his identity, and if jail is the only way he can find that then... it's been six seasons of "slippin' Jimmy is dead, Saul is just a name, Jimmy is burned, Saul is a fresh start, Chuck/Kim please tell me what to do, I need to be myself, I need to steal lines and costuming from everyone else" and it's both crack and so tragic no matter what fresh hell bullshit he's doing

I've been iffy too, but I've changed my mind. Jimmy may not have directly committed Walt's atrocities, but the flashback made it very clear that there was no Breaking Bad without Saul. Both shows remind us that we're still on the hook for unintended consequences when we choose to hurt other people for our own goals, and selling deadly drugs to addicts is an evil thing to do, especially since the drug trade is so steeped in violence. Jimmy may not have pulled the trigger(s) himself, but he knew intimately exactly what kind of violence was likely to be involved with a meth start-up. Maybe he fooled himself a little - surely a high school chemistry teacher would be safe! But it's extremely poor judgment, and he didn't care if people got killed, anyway.

Jimmy hasn't directly killed anyone, and I don't think it's likely he ordered any deaths either. He was a scumbag lawyer who enabled dangerous criminals, but he didn't really (re)join the Game until he decided to be Walt's manager. In "Granite State," he sheepishly admits to Walt that he doesn't know any hitmen (well, other than Mike I guess), even though he himself had suggested assassinating people several times.

But in the last episode with the cancer patient and Marion, Jimmy is escalating. He's a danger to himself and others, and it's pretty clear he's completely out of control, his last-minute decision to spare Marion aside. I'm also highly skeptical of the prison system, but there are people who are too dangerous to be allowed to continue to terrorize the public, and Jimmy has become one of those people.

I saw it mentioned somewhere that it's funny how none of the criminals in these crime dramas ever went to prison. The justice system is highly flawed, as both shows are quick to point out, but that doesn't mean that it's never a solution. Jimmy is guilty of many, many crimes. He's a dangerous person. He can't control himself, even if he wanted to, and it's very unclear at this point if he does.

I've often talked about characters getting fates that fit their role in the story and not fates they "deserve," but at the same time, Jimmy deserves to be punished! I think it fits his story, as someone who is a mostly non-violent menace, to go to prison instead of being killed like Walt, Mike, Lalo, and Gus were. Jimmy has always wanted someone to tell him what to do. He'd get that in prison. Plenty of people turn themselves around while serving time. It would be good for society, and likely good for him, too.

[johobi]

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Banana and peanut butter become pulp in your mouth as you glare out the kitchen window. It's so grey out there. Greyer than it has any right to be. As if your dour mood has polluted the very atmosphere. Rain lashes the exterior in leaden pellets, each one compounding your headache like a rap on the head. Don't be so serious, your bluetooth speaker croons as you chew and chew, unblinking. The bridge of your glasses slip further down your nose but you don’t correct them. Don't be so serious.

Oh, but it's all so serious. 

Your final portfolio lacks in ways your mentor is incapable of articulating, and you only have so much time to fix it. Your college life is coming to a close. There are frighteningly few opportunities out there and they’re sure to spurn a sham like you. What do you do now? Where do you go from here—

"God, you listen to such depressing music," a husky voice sounds. It’s thick with sleep and horribly attractive. You hear his feet next; big and bare as they slap the tile floor and disrupt the ambience. 

Yes, dismal is an ambience. 

Before you glimpse the interloper himself, his fingers pilfer your next mouthful of toast. His other hand has your phone and is skipping through your carefully curated playlist of moody tunes. With all the scant energy you can muster, you glower at him. 

“Taehyung.” 

Soccer captain. Campus celebrity. Doofus.

Unlikely friend and unlikelier crush. But life is strange, and he is both these things. Indeed, he proclaims himself your best friend to all who will listen. As for the matter of your tender feelings, however, he is oblivious. And will remain so.

Taehyung is long-legged and limber-bodied, but round of face and feature. A kitten in a tiger’s pelt. Will mew for affection and roar when angry. Has quite literally nudged your hand for pets and raged at referees in the same afternoon. There is usually no in-between. 

Your scowl goes unseen. He sidles past like the oblivious buffoon he is and continues to tamper with Spotify.  Smears his peanut-buttered thumb around your phone display. Ugh. You brush back your hood and fix him again with extra scorn.

"Actually, douchebag, it’s good music for thinking. And I have a headache. I hardly wanna listen to something like—no, don't you dare put fucking Party Rock on right now. Tae!"

It’s too late. The lanky idiot is already gesticulating to the beginning beats. Your phone is an unreachable hostage in his flapping hands. You’re about to lunge for it but he preempts the attack by smothering you with your own hood. “Tae.” Your whining sounds all the more pitiful muffled. “Everyfing hurfs. ‘m hungover. Pleathe.” 

Taehyung relents after further, strangled pleas. Unwraps you with a grin that grows like the sunrise. For a moment, you’re dazzled. “Sorry. No more torture,” he chuckles all low, hair in his eyes. His locks are long and always untamed. An aureate crown befitting of his celebrity status. 

One swipe and he’s muted the racket and returned your phone. You turn the sticky thing over in your hands, rueing the day you met the overgrown imp. “How did you get it this dirty…?”

You go ignored and Taehyung gets closer. He scrutinises your hunched and hoodied appearance with a thoughtful hum. “Headache?” A rounded nose and two brown eyes come into focus. "Hungover? How? I didn't see you go out last night."

Averse to such study, you shy away. "Well, I did." You did not. You stayed home and guzzled $4 Prosecco while lamenting your trash portfolio. But you aren’t about to regale him with that pitiful tale. The sheerness of shame prevents you. Taehyung would be so sweet about it, too! So buoying, with his sunny smiles and fervent encouragement: "Why were you crying over that?!" He'd ask. "Your work is amazing. Seriously amazing. I love everything you do!" He'd gush. "People will be stumbling over themselves to hire you!" He'd continue, naively. And that hurts the most, because he just doesn't get it. Taehyung is a sponsored, collegiate athlete that's graduating into a guaranteed draft. He is—and always has been—praised widely as up-and-coming. The kid has had scouts scrapping for him mid-way through high school!

You, however, are small fry, swimming in a shoal of other unknowns, leaping for the hook of internship. Your dreams of animating for Disney died long back. They dwelled with Walt now.

But you don’t resent Taehyung for any of it. Ever. He’s a paragon. Born for the limelight. Has sweat and bled oceans for it. And for some reason he insists that you, too, are deserving of that same renown. Why? He’s ridiculous. Far too kind. And—Christ, he has a big dick.

"Taehyung, can you please not shove your tiny fucking penis in my face while I'm trying to eat? I'm nauseous enough as it is."

The soccer captain rests a foot on the seat next to you, giving you ungainly insight into his crotch. Taehyung, as he often, inexplicably is, is clad only in his boxer-briefs. This would be alarming were it not so goddamn commonplace. He is allergic to clothes.

According to him, he’s a naturist. 

According to you, he’s an attention whore.

Taehyung points to his elevated foot, but it's a little difficult to ignore the bulge he's brandishing. "Do you understand the concept of inappropriate proximity and your current state of undress?" You rattle on, words slurred half by OJ, half by fluster. He simply points again, and with more insistence. Relenting, you follow the line of his finger to his pretty, if gigantic, foot. Then notice the ink around his ankle, black and fresh. "Oh, wow, you got a tattoo? Cool!"

"Yep! I didn't ever really think about getting one 'til I saw yours. They were so cool I became kinda obsessed with getting one. So I finally did it last night."

‘Til he saw yours? Your stomach flutters. It's not the nausea. You smother it with more orange juice. "Well, that's awesome, Tae. You'll probably want more eventually. I would've gone with you if I'd known you were gonna go alone."

Finally, he lowers his leg. It’s a small mercy. But then, for no discernible, earthly reason, Taehyung begins flexing his many defined muscles. His calves in particular catch your attention. They’re so goddamned thick. They ripple. Fucking soccer players. "Hm? Oh, I wasn't alone. I went with some guys from the team." He ogles his reflection in the microwave door.

How can you avert your eyes when his pecs dance so compellingly? It all becomes a bit too much. "Okay, what are you doing? Seriously, what? I know you're into yourself, but this is ridiculous.” He stops. Snorts. Thank God. “If you were with the guys, why did you come back here last night? I thought you’d go back to your dorm."

Finally Taehyung sits, but he’s spread-legged and that’s perhaps worse than what he was doing just now. He’s 6ft of pure, hewn sex and just so fucking casual about it. He reclines. "Some of them took girls home last night so I needed somewhere to go and you're always an open door." Finger guns follow a cheesy wink.

You scoff, but he's right. You’d do anything for the big-hearted clown. Open door? You'd be the doormat under his soccer cleats, licking them free of dirt— "You're lucky Areum isn’t here right now. Don't think she’d take kindly to having some almost-naked oaf clambering into her bed."

"You say that, but she’s tried to hit this several times.” Taehyung is smug, brows high on his forehead. Yours lower harshly. “Tell her I slept in her bed last night. She’ll cream herself thinking about it later, I guarantee you."

“You’re gross. And can you stop—why do you keep flexing? There’s just me here.” You peer about for emphasis. Taehyung is again admiring his form in some burnished surface. “No-one is looking. Or cares.” Contrarily, you’re doing both those things. But he needn’t be privy to that. 

"This is serious. I need to work on my angles.” He contorts himself into something of a pretzel to peek at his back muscles. “We're holding a hook-up auction at our dorm to raise money for a graduation blow-out. And I'm on sale. Do you think I need to work on my back?"

You ease into a squint. "When you said serious, I thought serious words were about to follow."

"I am being serious!" Again Taehyung flexes, biceps bulging by his ears like an overfed turkey’s thighs. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

The world.

"I dunno. I'd take you for free, I guess, if you were the last one left."

Taehyung is unperturbed by your acerbic wit. It ricochets off him like rubber bullets would a muscle-bound ox. He is your greatest adversary. The bastard lacquers his lips until they’re plump and glossy and boasting a smirk. 

He’s always doing this. 

Always moistening himself. 

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you'll be disappointed." A boxy smile emerges. "I got girls and guys already approaching me about it. Some of the guys literally just wanna buy me for mentoring. I mean, that’s more effort than kissing, but—" He shrugs. The thought goes unfinished.

"That makes sense. You are a God among these mere mortals, Taetae." It's not sarcasm this time. Taehyung senses it. The grin he returns is life-affirming. You're so close to reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Telling him you're proud. Telling him you most likely, maybe, love him. But you notice you've dragged your sleeve through peanut butter—”Ah, shit,”—and you can tell him how you feel some other day.

Some other day.

"Some of them just wanna make out too, of course, and, like, I'm happy to comply. It's all for charity." His altruism knows no limits.

"Charity, huh?" You snort. Taehyung's mouth grows more square at your incredulity. "Who else is up for bidding, then?"

"Mostly guys from the team and dorm. There are some mutuals who just wanna get in on the action, too. Uh, you know Kim Namjoon?" He measures your reaction. When you give none: "Jeon Jungkook?"

Disinterest mellows your features. "Oh, right. Cool."

"So you don't like Jeon Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes are eager, his body poised. Anticipating.

"What? No. What gave you that idea? I've talked to him, like, twice." Your face crumples as you towel your soiled sleeve. The peanut butter smears into a tragic, shit-brown stain. "Damn, that's never coming out."

"He's gonna be so disappointed. He might even cry." Taehyung heaves a hammy sigh and clutches at his breast. There’s nothing the captain enjoys more than clowning his subordinates.  "Kook likes you so much. He's really into your whole androgynous fuckboi thing you got going on. He literally said, 'She's like a mystery, man. I'm not sure if she's a girl or a guy and—like, I'm not like that, but that's hot.'"

If your eyes could roll past the bounds of their sockets, they would. "Wow, what a poet. He sounds like a douchebag and I'm even less interested now. Fuckboi? Is that really the vibe I give off?" You don't fuck full stop. Nor were you aware you could dress like you do. 

"I dunno. You just seem kinda like a gremlin to me. Or like that weird guy from Death Note," Taehyung is quick to reassure you. Cool. You’re fucking overjoyed that he perceives you that way. Not as a goddess, or his beautiful, sexy soulmate, or the princess that wanders the spires of his captive heart. No. A gremlin. Or L.

"Well, you got me there, son."

"What about Kim Namjoon?" Taehyung presses, urgent again. He picks at your bread crusts with one hand, head cradled delicately in the other. The boy could be a world-class model, too. His loose, dark curls hang like a Van Gogh nightscape, framing the planes of his unmarred face. It hurts to look at him. It hurts to be looked at.

A self-conscious shuffle. "What about him? I don't know who that is." You flick away his foraging fingers but he draws you into an impromptu game of thumb-war in retaliation. It's the only thing to extract a smile from you today.

Taehyung looks sceptical. "He's the physio student with our team! You literally talked to him all day during this season's semi-final." His lengthy digits best yours easily. But though the match is won, he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead he encroaches further. Thumbs your wrist. Encompasses your knuckles in a soft, warm palm. He’s clasping you like an enamoured suitor might their bashful sweetheart, and it’s very strange. What is he doing? His mind looks to be elsewhere, now.

"Uh...—oh. Oh." Yours ambles back to you. "Yeah, he was really nice, but you know my rule. No—"

"—dating in final year. Yeah, I know. I'll tell him that if he asks about you again." Taehyung has returned, too. His hand is gone. Your gooseflesh ebbs with it.

With a cough, you sober. "I think the auction's a bit stupid, really, Tae. You sure you wanna do it?"

"Stupid? Why?" He shimmies in close, smug on his face and intolerably naked the rest of the way down. His skin is hot and golden and just far too close. "You're only saying that because you're jealous, right?" He tickles your chin to keep you honest and your eyes on him. You seize and squeeze the offending hand because he might be right and now you’re embarrassed. "The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you," he goes on to say, brazen as the smirk defiling his cherubic cheeks.

"Some rather large conclusion-jumping going on there," you smile, sweet as sugared cyanide. Your vice-grip tightens until he’s pouting in repentance. "I meant it's stupid to put yourself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if you don't want to kiss that person." 

"I'm just joking!" he whimpers like the overlarge puppy he is and you free him of his snare. Because you would die for this big, soppy boy and his big, soppy eyes. “You’re so grouchy today.”

‘The joke won’t land if it collides with the truth, Taehyung,’ you muse. You expect him to know this despite never having apprised him of your situation. You’re jealous and cowardly and completely unreasonable. You want him for yourself but you never want him to know that. 

If he wants your candour he should be a telepath. Simple.

Irritated by your own nonsense, you lash out at the unsuspecting boy. "You know what? I was joking, too. I remember Namjoon, he was hot. And smart. I think I'll cheat on my dating ban this once and bid on him. He has super nice lips, so." 

Taehyung simply smiles. "Oh, okay. Cool! Glad you’re gonna come along." 

Your threat proves ineffective because he doesn’t like you like that. Wouldn’t give a shit if Namjoon rawed you on stage while you stared him down. You stall on that thought because it’s kinda hot. “It’ll be great. Can’t wait to get my tongue down his throat.”

“Hell yeah! I knew you liked him.”

Yep, Taehyung is oblivious to your pining. As he should be. Because outwardly, your pining consists of nothing more than the odd, lingering look here and there. The balled-up sketches of him he will never see. A secret smile if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. Other than that, you're steely. Poker-faced. Rarely blind-sided by his allure, especially now that you've acclimated to his penchant for exhibitionism. 

 "Thank you in advance for your patronage." Rising from his seat, Taehyung comes to a stand behind you and leans. Encircles your shoulders with his terribly athletic arms and puts his lips to your ear. You're like a feral cat in the arms of a senseless child. You're bristling. "If he turns out to be a jerk and tries something he shouldn't, I'll protect you." For a moment, you're touched enough to unclench a little. "With these guns." And then you choke between his straining biceps and vie to repay him in kind.

----

The common room of Taehyung's dorm has been crudely transformed. Some questionable construction has taken place in order to build the catwalk centrepiece. Sofas and tables line the walls, thrust from the limelight. You've occupied the drinks table for the last 45 minutes, from the second you entered this place. You harbour an intense dislike for the chaotic energy of Taehyung's dorm. Machismo rages noisily between these walls and you much prefer less testosterone-drenched environments. Nevertheless, despite it all you're here on an endeavour this evening. One your idiot, rampant mouth has obligated you to. To buy time with a guy that's perfectly nice and all, but isn’t Taehyung.

Kim Namjoon makes eyes at you from the head of the runway, awaiting his musical cue. The beer you just slurped down bubbles up. You have to look away. Unfortunately, when you do, Taehyung is immediately there, his face in yours, his thumb and fingers pulling at your cheeks. "Hey you, don't get too drunk, okay? I don't trust a single man here. Especially not nice-as-pie Namjoon." 

Nice-as-pie Namjoon has chosen some Bruno Mars track by the sounds of it. The auction-goers' excitement ramps up considerably.

Unable to move your captured face, your eyes sweep the room. "Not even your own teammates?" you scoff cynically, swatting at his hands until he’s baited into a game of slapsies. "Now who sounds jealous?" 

Taehyung stops for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, you're right. I'm extremely jealous. I want Namjoon all to myself. He gives the best massages. And a happy ending when I ask nicely." And then he's back to rough-housing you, slapping your upper arms to alternating beats. "You look cute tonight. Your outfit, I mean," he offers up out of nowhere, so quiet you almost lose it to the bass. "He's lucky."

But you look exactly the same as you did earlier that day. Exactly the same as that afternoon in the cafeteria when he ribbed you for raiding Billie Eilish's Good Will donations. "Um, thanks. I guess." You're genuine, but don’t sound it. You can't look at him for fear of revealing the dopey grin that has hijacked your face.

"You're welcome, buddy." A large palm flattens your hair. His fingers get all in there, ruffling it until it probably looks more akin a bird's nest. Is Taehyung trying to sabotage you? Also, buddy? "Look, Namjoon's walking." 

You turn and see that he is. Strutting, moreover, albeit awkwardly. It's obvious that the lanky boy is unaccustomed to the same attention the team he services is. Nevertheless, there are whoops and hollers aplenty for the handsome blonde dork, and you, too, catch yourself smiling. How can you not, when he pokes at his dimples so? The others seem captivated, too, though less by the  finger-hearts and more by his form-fitting tracksuit. 

“I’d wrap my car around a tree if he was the tree,” one auction-goer confides to her friend. “And then I’d wrap my legs around—”

“Yeah, we get it Lisa.”

Lisa quiets. 

Namjoon’s endless legs sidle to a stop at the catwalk's end, directly opposite you. His bespectacled eyes meet your bespectacled eyes. For one, long second, the interest is palpable.  But then he breaks, and casts his gaze down to his FILAs. 

"Okay, he's, like, in love with you, I think," Taehyung whisper-yells, hands aflurry in applause. "Are you gonna bid?"

Shouts puncture the cheering either side of the room.

"$10!"

"$20!"

Neither of them are you.

The evening’s auctioneer - Taehyung's partner-in-slime Park Jimin - echoes each cry that rings out, giggling into a tinny karaoke mic. "$20 for our team physio?! Is that all you got ladies and gents? Do I have to remind you this guy can grope away pain with his magic hands?"

Namjoon spins toward Jimin's makeshift podium of an upturned bookcase and menaces him with his eyes. Well, it would be menacing were the man not as threatening as a ribbon-wrapped basket of newborn sloths.

The striker backpedals. "Okay, the massage might not be included, but don't let that deter you! He kisses like a pro!"

Screams of how do you know that, Jimin?! erupt and the throng grows ever more wild. Namjoon is redder than the cup you're strangling.

"Are you gonna bid?! You're gonna miss your chance!" For some reason Taehyung is still here, harassment game still strong. He should be preparing to walk next, but sees fit to pester you instead. And because of that, he's caught you in your lie, bare-faced and blushing.

No, you are not going to bid on Kim Namjoon.

"Uh, oh no, I forgot my purse," you grumble around the rim of your next drink, gulping it down like the bottom is your way out of this God-awful situation.

Then what are you doing here?

"It's right there." Taehyung pokes the cross-body bag hanging traitorously by your side.

"Oh, is it?" You reach for another cup even while burdened with one. Anything to sidetrack this conversation.

Taehyung intervenes with a firm hand. Swaddles your knuckles ‘til the shaking stops. You’re shaking? Beer slops over the sides, unnoticed. “___?”

Stupid, warm hand. And why are his fingers so fucking delicate for a footballer? He should model jewellery. Wedding rings.

Yours.

His ringless fingers close around your wrist when you persist in avoiding his gaze. The ruse is almost up. Fuck. There’s nothing left to do but to look at him. 

You do, ever so timidly. “What?”

"What are you doing?" Puzzlement becomes him well. Why is he so goddamn handsome? "If you aren't gonna bid on Namjoon, why did you come?"

Silence, but for the pump of background Bruno Mars.

‘You. I came for you. You were the plan all along. Not him,’ your mind screams.

You, however, just stare.

"Going—going—gone! Sold for $70! Come claim your kiss!" Jimin can hardly stop himself from squealing. For a guy that beds girls on the daily, his sincere excitement over simple lip-locking is amusing.

Taehyung's teammates hail him from the drapery behind the catwalk but he won't yet go. No, he insists on searing holes into the side of your face while you watch Namjoon get sloppy on-stage with some girl you don't know. They're really getting into it. Damn, he forgot about you quick. In  their fervour they edge towards the bounds of the catwalk, too absorbed in one another to notice. Thankfully, voyeuristic bystanders are on-hand to catch them before they fall.

"Kim Taehyung! How many times do I have to call you?! Get over here before I kick your fucking ass," Jungkook roars across the hubbub, halfway through the room. He  enacts the violent gesture for emphasis and knees some unsuspecting girl in the ass. Immediately the macho facade drops and he's all doe-eyed and buck-toothed, prostrating himself before the girl who actually seems grateful to have been assaulted by one Jeon Jungkook. Between his hushed apologies, Jungkook shoots Taehyung a look something murderous. And then he sees you and throws a shy wave, the kind a little kid might when cajoled by his parents.

"Ew." The word comes up involuntarily, like bile.

A deep cackle emanates from beside you. "Okay, guess I'm up." Taehyung squares his shoulders. His mouth, too. He's a very angular boy. "Better get my kit on. Cheer for me!" With a pat to your shoulder, he makes for Jungkook. Leaves you with an insidious dread. His soccer kit is your weakness. 

No, he is your weakness.

"Next up - and I'm sure most of you here tonight are anticipating this guy - our very own Team Captain and soon-to-be Major League Soccer player, Kim Taehyung!" Banshee-shrieking reverberates at Jimin's announcement. "Stick around, he'll be out in a few minutes!"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. You turn from the catwalk and fully embrace the drinks table, supporting yourself with two hands and God's grace.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

No way.

This wasn’t an actual plan. Just a fantasy.

You're not gonna tell him like this.

You're not gonna tell him ever.

All you have to do is just say you turned out to support him. You rarely get to go out with him anyway, what with his ever-growing entourage. Taehyung would appreciate that, and he'd never have to know that you came here for cornier purposes.

You're not a big gesture kind of girl.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

Distantly, you wished Areum were here. She'd have slapped some sense into you, maybe even literally.

No. Wait.

The devious cow would've talked you into doing it. For sure. She has a flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry, can I just—thanks." Someone with offensively bony elbows bulldozes you aside and passes a drink to her companion. An apology is on the tip of your tongue but evaporates into the ether upon seeing the twosome in question. Both were complicit in the casual bullying you endured during your high school years. They don't appear to recognise you now. Not that they even spare your pitiful person a glance.

"Who's up next?" the worst one queries, cup snug to her bosom.

"Taehyung," the lackey answers, glee upending her petulant features. "Kim Taehyung."

An elbow jabs you again as the girl struggles with the clasp on her clutch. Her overlong claws impede her. "Oh shit, already? I thought we had more time. Shit."

"Nope. It's go time. Hurry up, girl, competition's gonna be fierce." The other one watches her digital acrobatics to get into her purse.

Oh God. She has so much money. There's no doubt in your mind she'll trump everyone present.

No. Oh, no.

Not her. Not with him.

Your mind flits through premonitions of the future. They’re all  rather grim. The last one is that of a wedding. A marriage between this dreadful bitch and your most cherished of friends, Taehyung. It's garish and tacky - she's denied him input, of course - and the ceremony is filled with faces that once mocked you mercilessly. None of Taehyung's friends are there; indeed, he is no longer even part of his team. Her possessiveness and his undying loyalty have put an end to his blossoming career. He looks sad beneath a mask of happy. Eyes that once blazed with the embers of ambition are doused by despondency. He is a husk.

And their first meeting is this auction, this cute anecdotal encounter of oh, I just had to have him, and when I kissed him I knew.

Just a glimpse at this dystopian future disturbs you silly. Conviction, while tentative, burgeons in your heart.

You can't let her have him. Anyone but this noxious cunt.

And suddenly you've money in hand, too. Bills you withdrew specifically for this purpose, and yet would sooner have left them crisp and cold in your purse than followed through. But public humiliation is endlessly preferable to damning Taehyung to a kiss with this serpent. Because it won't stop there. It won't just be a kiss but an appeal for more. She’ll say it’s no strings attached, but she doesn't attach strings. She weaves webs. You recall her high school boyfriend. He was a well-performing, jovial guy that always waved hi. And she consumed him, heart-first, ‘til he was naught but a sunken-eyed zombie. He took a leave of absence that never ended.

Sexy, dangerous synth sounds from the speakers either side the catwalk. Ah, shit. Not that song. Any song but that one. NCT U’s Baby Don’t Stop. Of course Taehyung picked that. It fills the air with a fatal drum beat and in he comes through the curtains, strutting like he is the rhythm. The room, rather than become uproarious, falls eerily quiet. Everyone breathes as one entranced being, and no one moves but him. Halfway down the catwalk he body-rolls with the fluidity of wind-rippled satin, burgeoning from his chest and snapping at the hips. Prospective bidders gasp, as do you. And then his thumb is in the hem of his shirt, luring it upwards, exposing his olive expanses inch by mouthwatering inch. You see his abs near every day, but in this context, backed by that song, you find yourself as winded as everyone else. His stomach tautens for show, feeding into loose-waisted shorts that sit far too low. Even you haven’t been privy to this much. And especially not the alluring trail of hair that thickens at his waistband.

Someone shatters the stupor and screams, “$80!”

“Geez, you’re a horny bunch.” Jimin’s laughter peals. “We already have $80. Any advance on—“

“$100!” Some breathless sap cries next. “Oh my God, look at his thighs!”

And look you do. Taehyung grooves at the catwalk’s end, shirt back in place but hiking up the hems of his shorts instead.  You almost glimpse groin. He’s absolutely shameless, straining the muscles of his thighs until they’re lewdly pronounced. They’re veritable tree trunks. His calves, too, defy belief. Rock-hard and rounded and begging to be bitten. The party-goers crowding round his feet must think similarly. 

What distracts you most, however, are Taehyung’s straying fingers. They skirt his crotch in a salacious manner, stretching the material where it shouldn’t. Accentuating things they shouldn’t. You may pass out.

All the while his eyes are down, maybe closed. You want to see his face more than anything. The playful smirk on his plump, wet lips and the focus in his brows. 

“$120!!” You almost lose your head to a cash-strangling fist beside you.

It's her. Pointy-elbowed bitch.

But you aren't thrusting your student loan up just yet. You're in the middle of an almost holy, revelatory experience. Taehyung is still undulating and provoking the crowd, who are no longer hushed but whooping like chimps in heat. His shirt is off and helicoptering overhead. He allows one overcome girl at the sidelines to verify the thew of his biceps and bags himself another bid. You, however, do nothing but gawp, bills clutched to your chest and your eyes affixed to the glorious grin that breaks across his face. His eyes open onto you and then it's you you see at his wedding, standing afore him, bouquet instead of a wad of cash. You want to be the one. Now is the moment, while he's watching you envision this.

"$200,” you splutter. Volume is difficult when your voice is a quivering inconstant.

"What was that? Did we just get another bid?" Jimin wavers too, out of disbelief. "Did someone say $200?!"

The room is a clamour of confusion but Taehyung watched you mouth the very syllables. The shock is such that it softens his salacious movements to a dance more modest. His eyes are wider than you've ever seen them; mouth too. It hangs agape and downturned, as yours does. Because you're not quite sure whether you said something else altogether. Maybe you hurled a cuss word out of frustration? Did you momentarily black out and proclaim Hitler did nothing wrong? Nothing else can account for the scrutiny with which he punishes you with now.

Or.

You actually did bid, and that's why he's walking over, to the very drop-off of the catwalk, no longer any swagger to his step. "What are you doing?" he calls down, the music still strong and now strangely inappropriate. You simply watch the mole beneath his bottom lip move, dumb.

Louder, now, you call again. "$200!"

"Oh! It was a bid! ____?!" The flame-haired MC shares his puzzlement with the rest of the reacting room. All heads turn toward you.

But yours turns nowhere but Taehyung, your expression an open book of long-hidden liking. You watch, suspended by dissociation, as he lays a palm flat against his chest. "Me?"

It could all still be explained away. A joke. You drank too much. You just wanted to see the look on his face. Instead, you grant him the minutest of nods. A simple tip of the chin. "You," you whisper, whether it's heard or not.

Taehyung sees it in the shape your lips make. And then his gaze sweeps back upward, his chest heaving far too much for a man standing stationary.

"What's going on?" The disgruntled echo each other.

Jimin is quick to make sense of things and keep it rolling. "Okay, so, a bid of $200! Anyone else?"

A new song comes on; it's gone on too long. Something with a cantering beat that's adequately sentimental.

So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time—

Clambering atop the platform, you counter someone's desperate bid of $220 with a measured breath. "$250." You hold Taehyung at fingerpoint. "You."

Waste it on me.

For a pants-shitting second, nothing happens. Your outstretched arm gains a tremor that could crumble it. Taehyung sifts your soul with his big, dewy eyes and then he's walking. Stalking toward you. Knocks the money from your hands and seizes your shying face with both of his. The last thing you see is his nose mole before his mouth joins with yours. His grip is like a vice and his lips are no gentler. They pry you open with little effort and then you're flooded with wet heat. Taehyung is insatiable in pursuit of your tongue. His hands drop to draw in your waist, your chest, every inch of your overclothed form. He's underclothed but burning hot, planes of honed skin beneath your fingertips. It's all so right. Feels so good. Taehyung moans that much into you when he chances a breath of air. Applause starts up as the music swells. It's so cliche but you've never had a cliche of your own before and your gloom-ridden ass needs this.

"Going—"

"I didn't know. I wish I had. This would've happened sooner," Taehyung gasps between desperate, too-short smooches. It proves too difficult to resist the pull of your mouth and he captures it again, sloppier. Slower.

"Going—"

"It doesn't matter." You pull the oxygen in, impatient. "Doesn't matter." Your fingers are a tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging on his lustrous locks. "Make up for it."

"Gone! Sold for $250!"

The two of you won't be parted for a moment. Not even when dismounting the platform. There's ruckus around you but it's so distant when his lips are on you. You sink into him like you would a scalding bath. "You don't have to pay that," Taehyung tells your cheek, smearing his saliva-slick mouth back to yours. His greed for you manifests against your stomach, and you ache in return. "This is a freebie."

Your passionate clinch takes you to the sidelines, away from prying eyes. Most of them, anyway. "What about this?" Your hands are suddenly in unseemly places.

"Th-That's also free. Everything's free. Oh, God."