#feel like a big grown adult in both good and bad ways

[kumkaniudaku]

Caught

Summary: When their guest is away, Terry and Patrice will play.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,067

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Recommended Reading: Spoiled

Author's Note: Spoiled, Back Up, and Caught all happen on the same linear timeline. Consider them present day events. Hopefully that helps pull things together because you'll need the context later. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!

"Mommy, the recipe for the hand pies is so good. Thank you for finding it for me." 

"Oh, of course, baby. One day, I gotta get you to help me put all your Nana's recipes in a book or something. I'm tired of digging through all these scraps of paper." 

"I didn't wanna say anything, but that's insane. I can barely read her handwriting." 

Rosalyn scoffed on the other end of the phone line. "You and me both. I have to call Sybil every time or end up making up what I think goes there. I cook. I don't decipher chicken scratch."

Patrice laughed along with her mother as she passed a piping hot meatball over her shoulder to satisfy her taste tester for the night. He hummed his approval of her gift, providing a thumbs up as his rating before returning his hand to her waist and swaying them in time with the slow rhythm of Christmas music playing in the background. 

Christmas Eve brought preparation for the big day on the other side of a wake-up and a smaller get-together to celebrate Imani's and Jesus's birthdays in one evening. Patrice had offered to continue the tradition at her house to accommodate her cousin's request for loud music, liquor, and good, grown folks' fun. In a few short minutes, she and Terry would have a house full of adults gorging themselves on party food and fighting fits of giggles during a drunk game of Taboo. For now, she'd enjoy the calm before the storm with her shadow attached at the hip.

"The cinnamon smell for the apple version was way too strong, though. I almost skipped those altogether." 

Rosalyn responded with a sound of cautious curiosity. "Really? You usually love the smell of cinnamon." 

"Right," Patrice exclaimed. "Maybe I had a bad batch or something. It doesn't taste bad, but it smelled awful."

"Hm." Rosalyn filed the information in her head for a later moment of privacy, preferring not to stress her daughter with the questions buzzing around in the mind of a mother who knew her child better than anyone in the world. Instead, she continued. "Terry, did you like the hand pies?"

"You don't know if Terry is even in here, mama. He could be anywhere in the house," Patrice answered, her face screwed in confusion.

"Child, don't insult me. If you're in the kitchen, Terry is in the kitchen."

She wasn't wrong. A few too many glasses of Patrice's special holiday cocktail mixed with his ever-present desire to feel his wife at all times had Terry sticking to her like glue. Even after she'd given in to each of his kisses and allowed him to taste her the moment Imani stepped out to run a few errands, she still couldn't shake him. Whiskey was in control. Terry was only along for the ride.

He chuckled into the crook of Patrice's neck before confirming his presence. "Yes, ma'am, I loved the pies. Treece made a few on the side for me so I wouldn't have to share." 

"She still got you spoiled, I see."

"Nah, not too bad. You know she gets sweet once a week. I caught her on a good day." 

"Oh, hush."

Patrice's attempt to get out of Terry's grasp came up empty, prompting him to hold her tighter and press wet kisses onto the back of her neck. She was sadly mistaken if she thought she could get away from him that easy while Uncle Nearest was pumping through his veins. 

"Well, let me let you two go," Rosalyn started with a small laugh. "Tell me how the chicken salad turns out. I might throw some together as a little snack for your daddy tomorrow. You know how he gets when he's ready to eat." 

"Mhmm. Just like somebody else I know."

Terry patiently waited for Patrice to wrap up her conversation and safely end the call before resuming his handsy approach to PDA. His hands slid up and down the fabric of her cotton pajama pants, the pair matching his at her request. Full lips attached to her neck, creating a light suction with every open-mouthed kiss. 

His wife rolled her eyes as she loaded a pita chip with dip for his culinary opinion. "You are insatiable, TJ. Taste this." 

He obliged, opening wide as she slid food into his mouth and waited for a response. Instead of a verbal assessment of her work, he kissed her cheek twice to signal his approval, then returned to his shameless groping.

"How long before Imani gets back?" 

"I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so. She only went to grab some more cups and water." 

Terry's eyes flickered to the digital clock on the stove before sliding his hands up Patrice's torso and leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder. "Think you got a few minutes to get back to what we started?" 

"Haven't you had enough of me yet? We've been going at it every day since New Orleans."

"What you think?"

Having enough of her touch, the feeling of her body against his, or her attention was a foreign concept for Terry. If he could quit his job and be totally devoted to her pleasure, he would do so without a second thought. Fortunately for him, though, extended absences from the slough of office life due to the holidays provided the closest opportunity to spend the whole day in it. 

Patrice smiled to herself as Terry slowly removed the serving spoon from her hand, bringing her delicate palm up to the back of his head. Coarse hair grown into a short tuft of curls and shaped by his barber tickled her fingertips as she closed her eyes, officially caught up in how Terry caressed her with the care afforded to precious works of art. 

A low purr slipped past his lips as his hands slid beneath the hem of her camisole to rub her stomach, filling her ears and mind with filthy sounds and images from earlier in the hour. Had he had enough of her? She wasn't sure she'd had enough of him. 

His fingertips inched higher, further intoxicating Patrice until a full squeeze on both breasts at the same time made her hiss and wince in pain. 

"Easy, baby," she complained as she gently pressed down on his arms to direct him away from the sensitive area. "They're super tender right now. I'm not sure why." 

Lust was quickly replaced by concern as Terry dropped his hands and turned Patrice to face him. "You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Pooh. It's probably the tattoo healing. 

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be making the entire area hurt. Especially not on both sides. Let me look."

"Terry, you never just look."

His attempt to slide the thin straps of her tank top down her arms was quickly cut short as Patrice brushed off his contact to save herself from what she assumed would come next. Her aching was a serious matter. Terry getting a look at her bare tits was not nearly as high on the list. 

Terry softened his eyes in unmistakable sincerity. "I'm serious, Treece. I know what it should look like. Come here."

Patrice didn't protest as Terry led her to the kitchen table. She stood perfectly still until Terry was comfortable in one of the chairs and then placed her between his legs. 

He gingerly pushed her tanktop straps down her arms before bunching the thin fabric at her waist to free her breasts, watching for any sign of discomfort.

"You don't think you're like…sick, do you?" 

"I think it's just tenderness," she quickly retorted, wanting to push the thought of more grave explanations for her discomfort far from her mind.

"Okay, okay. I'm only asking." 

Her brows furrowed as he lifted the right side to get a look at the moment from a charged few days in his family's old stomping grounds. 

A day alone and nothing to do but explore had them wandering into the same shady tattoo parlor where Terry got his first piece for matching ink. Terry opted to tat their wedding date on his ribs after having to be talked down from plastering her name on his neck. Patrice, however, was set on making her first experience one to remember. 

Slanted script crafted from his handwriting spelled Terry's full first name, curving just under the crease of her boob and the spot that he liked to grip in the depths of passion or simply at his leisure. Terry ran his thumb along each letter to check for abrasions or abnormalities. 

He looked up at Patrice to gauge her reaction. "That hurt?" 

"Not really. It's more here," she added, gesturing toward her areola. "Anything rubbing against it is so uncomfortable. I can barely wear a bra." 

"I noticed. They've honestly been looking a little bigger. Do they feel heavy to you?" 

"Not heavy. Mostly…full? They look great, though. I'm not complaining about that part." 

She joked, the attempt sounding silly once it received no reaction past Terry blinking as he used the pad of his thumb to ghost contact over her pebbled nipple to test her pain level. It was challenging to stay present, with a third of her upper half unnecessarily exposed in their kitchen for no real reason. The entire ordeal felt like a farce. Terrence wasn't a doctor, and him holding her titties in his hands like fleshy snowglobes was as much an actual check-up as WWE was real wrestling. 

When she giggled like a teenager learning about sex for the first time, Terry looked up at her with a quizzical expression, and his left eyebrow lifted high. "What's so funny?" 

"You, Doctor Richmond," she laughed. "How can you tell they're bigger? I couldn't even tell until the other day." 

"I spend a lot of time with my girls. I better notice when they change. Been looking at them since I was sixteen." Terry answered, a boyish grin making his cheekbones nearly touch the corner of his eyes. 

"I knew you used to look!" She exclaimed, finally feeling vindicated in her suspicions from childhood. 

"Looking was the least of what I was doing." He shrugged as he gently pushed both breasts together for his own viewing pleasure. He kissed the small crease they made two times over, then looked up at Patrice through long lashes. "Unfortunately, ma'am, I couldn't diagnose you, but I think I have some treatment available if you're interested." 

Patrice bit back a smile to play along. "Oh yeah? How much is this gonna cost? It's the holidays, and I ain't got it." 

"I offer payment plans that we can discuss in that room back there later tonight." 

"I like the sound of that," she answered, previous problems vanishing into thin air as he roped her back into his web of liquor-charged desire. 

"I knew you would," he winked. "Don't move."

Tingles rippled across Patrice's skin while she listened for any indication of Terry's secretive treatment plan. The soft crack and subsequent rush of cool from the freezer created goosebumps on her bare chest, making her nipples jut out proud from the sensation. Next came the cupboard opening and shutting in two seconds time. From the direction, she could tell he was grabbing a glass from over the sink. 

Ice cubes clinked against the cup like little masters of whispers attempting to give Patrice the scoop on what to expect. Terry quietly shut the freezer and took heavy steps back to his seat, smiling at how Patrice truly hadn't moved a muscle in his few minutes away. 

He placed the glass on the table behind him before tugging her hand to guide her closer. "Cold hot therapy. I sprained my knee once, and this got me back up and running in no time. Ice for the cold…" Terry's voice trailed as he plucked a piece of ice from his glass and pressed it to her nipple. He watched her jaw drop with a sharp inhale, intently focused on the way her eyelids fluttered closed at the sudden shock of frozen water. When a single drop began to make a trail down the swell of her breast, he pulled the ice away and brought his mouth closer. "And I'll take care of the hot."

"Oh…my God." 

Whispers of unexpected pleasure sent Terry into a far-off place where he was only concerned with running a flat tongue across supple skin. Patrice rushed to steady herself by bringing her hands to the back of his head, cradling him while he went to work. 

Ice cold. Soothing warmth. Ice cold. Soothing warmth and a light suckle. Again. And again. 

He eyed her like a lion watches prey, taking notes of every little sound and twitch to know that he was fulfilling his job. 

"Good job, baby," Patrice whispered, her head tossed back and praises spoken to the ceiling. "Good fuckin' job."

Terry ran his hands up the back of her thighs to roughly grip her ass. He groaned at the affirmation before pulling away to retrieve more ice. He held a small cube between his teeth to multitask, running it across her left nipple and areola until it had melted enough to fit both in his mouth. 

Was it fixing her tenderness issue? Not really. But Patrice would be damned if his subtle slurping and moaning with her backside firmly in his clutches wasn't sufficiently taking her mind off things. So far off, she'd lost all concept of time and space. 

While Terry pulled Patrice into his lap for a more intensive inspection, Imani entered the house high off the exhilarating freedom that can only come for night drives with a carefully curated playlist blasting from the speakers. Being stateside for the first time in a year was the perfect opportunity to experience one of life's simple pleasures. 

Grocery bags rustled and knocked against the wall as she hummed along to the fragmented lyrics from a song on her Spotify playlist still coursing through her brain. A short pause in her personal concert to lock the door left space to hear a string of curious noises. Muffled half-sentences and a sort of trembling sigh made her quirk an eyebrow. She thought to herself that Terry and Patrice left the television on far too often for a pair of people who claimed to not spend much time in front of the tube, but quickly found that they'd taken to making a scene the old-fashioned way. 

She stood in the open space, a perfectly shaped eyebrow pushed high on her face and an impressed smirk tugging at the right corner of her lip while she watched her baby cousin makeout with Imani's newest family member with a ferocity she didn't know Patrice had in her. 

Patrice held Terry steady by his jaw, slightly hovering over him while she had her way leading a sloppy kiss. When she moved to push his head back toward her chest with a string of words filthy enough to make a pornstar blush, Imani cleared her throat to finally announce her presence.

"Oh shit," Patrice yelped, rushing to tap Terry's back and end his check-up. 

His head popped up to survey the room, then slowly found a home on top of Patrice's once she pressed close enough against his chest to cover her naked breasts. The vibrations from his concealed chortling made Patrice pinch him in frustration. Nothing was funny, at least not to her. 

Imani held her hands up in faux surrender. "No, please. Don't stop on account of me," she laughed. "Y'all were just getting started." 

"We are so sorry, Moanie. This isn't what it looks like. Well, this part is exactly what it looks like, but I promise it didn't start like this. Terry was looking at my boobs to check on my tattoo and -" 

"Girl, you do not have to explain anything to me. This is your house! Honestly, if I had those big ol' mommy titties, I'd want them in somebody's face too. And you got them for free! The girls gotta go under the knife or get pregnant for those. How does it feel to be God's favorite? Terry, can you help me get the water out of the car when you finish?"

Terry looked down at his visibly distressed wife and then back at Imani to save face for the both of them. "Yeah, I got you. Gimme a minute." 

Moanie didn't notice how she'd launched her cousin into an internal spiral as she pranced off to busy herself with getting ready in her room for the week, but Terry did. He carefully sat Patrice up and helped redress her, careful to ease into conversation. 

"You alright?" 

"I had my cycle this month," Patrice rushed out, her gaze far off as Terry lifted her arm to put it back in her camisole strap. "It can't be that. I had my cycle." When her focus returned, her eyes snapped to Terry's for confirmation. "Right? I did, right?"

He nodded, unsure of how to proceed to quell her fear. "You did, baby. But, maybe…"

Sure, it was lighter than usual, but she'd had a cycle. Her body functioned like it did every month, on time and without pomp and circumstance. There was no cause for concern. 

But…maybe. 

Patrice looked down at her belly then back up at Terry, searching for answers in his sympathetic expression. He leaned forward and held her head with both hands to give her a kiss she couldn't return before he spoke. 

"Don't drink tonight. Just in case. We'll figure it out in the morning. Okay?"

"Okay." She whispered back without truly processing the gravity of his instruction. 

Terry slowly lifted Patrice from his lap to fulfill Imani's request for assistance, leaving her to stand perfectly still in the kitchen. She counted backward in her head, retracing her steps and important dates until a headache sent her to take a seat. 

It was just tenderness. It'd go away by morning, and all of this would be a silly story to tell whenever they got together in the spring for their European honeymoon. She'd drink an entire bottle of wine over heaps of pasta, turning the whole situation into a fond memory before raising her hand to call the server for another round. All water under the bridge, right?

But…maybe.

------

Reply if you'd like to be tagged!

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Hai sweet Gornack thinking of u hope ur doing well ily 🫂🫂🫂🫂

Hello sweet egg. This is a good chance to say I'm alright and stuff but I got a job and going from doing nothing to full time is very tiring and unstable. Haven't really drawn until yesterday evening. I haven't had the energy to read anything I put in my drafts even.

I feel really bad about my already late wips taking even later, but there's not much I can do. Just adjusting to my new routine

Im also taking a sort-of break from TMNT. Having much more fun right now drawing my OCs and other fandoms. I'll be posting on here but also on my Instagram, as I'm currently doing pieces for bunnlops bunny universe:) wink wink

[luveline]

hi love! i have a request in mind. i read your guidelines and saw you’re not writing smut atm so just want to clarify that that’s not what this is!! i was wondering if you could write something where reader has abnormal pain during sex? and it’s just the conversation either before trying (thinking it will be awful and she’ll get rejected) or right after (and not having bad success for that first time). the reassurance of it would be wonderful to read, especially in your voice! as for the character, i’d love either joel or hotch! whatever comes easier <3 love ya jade

hi lovely, hope this is ok!! fem, 1k

cw suggestive/adult themes, mdni

"Am I doing something you don't like?" Aaron asks quietly. 

You sigh and turn your face from his kiss, skin aflame. It was a matter of time before he read your hesitancy, but you'd hoped to power through. This is the dealbreaker for some guys. You're especially terrified of Aaron's rejection in particular. 

"It's not you," you murmur. 

He drops his hand from your shoulder to your thigh, far from anywhere intimate but a heart-skipping touch regardless. "No?" he asks, matching your murmur. "We don't have to go any further. I misread you, honey. I'm sorry." 

"You didn't. It's… I want to," you say, pitch heightening and weakening at the same time, almost raw. "I really, really want to, but it's–" You look down at his chest. "It's embarrassing." 

"Oh." He clears his throat. "I'm not young. I promise, I know the reality of a woman's body–" 

You laugh unexpectedly, "No need to brag." 

"What I'm trying to say is that I know what real women look like. I'm not expecting you to be a two sheet spread." 

"Aaron, that's really sweet, but it's not what I'm struggling with." 

"Sorry," he says. He rubs your leg gently in apology. He looks embarrassed himself now, an odd expression on him, but reassuring in a way. 

"I have this thing. Sex," —your voice sounds weird, fraught with nerves— "can be really painful for me. Sometimes I can't do it because it hurts, and I don't want to lead you on when it might not, uh, work." 

Aaron holds his silence. You rush to fill it.

"We can still try, I'm not saying I can't have sex with you, I know that for most guys it's not something you want to go without and I get if that means I'm not right for you–" 

Aaron takes your hand. "Hey, wait. Wait. Who says you're not right for me?" 

"I just know sex is a big deal." 

Aaron is full grown, and you should've expected this, but it still shocks you when he speaks without cringing, "I won't tell you I don't enjoy it, but having sex with you isn't the only thing I want from you. Honestly, it probably doesn't make the top one hundred." 

"It's not that I can't…" 

"Right. It hurts?" he asks. 

Emboldened by his question, you squeeze his larger fingers between yours. "Yeah, it can hurt. Not always, but even if we take it slow I can't guarantee I'll enjoy it… The top one hundred, really?" 

Aaron leans down slowly to kiss your cheek. "Really. I don't want to lie to you, I want you. But mostly to make you feel good."  

His tone is quiet, measured, with a hint of hoarseness, and his breath fans warm over your skin. This is the very first time you've had this conversation  and still wanted to try afterward, confident that the partner understands what you're saying. 

"I probably should've told you before." 

"You told me when you were ready, that's all I want from you." He kisses your cheek again, before his arm is woven across your shoulders and your face is hooked into the curve of his neck. "Thank you for letting me know." 

"Aaron–" You laugh, the weight of your small secret finally lifted. "You just said thank you for my putting you in possibly the most awkward situation I could have when ten minutes ago you were giving me a hickey." 

"I think I'm old enough to do both." 

"All this focus on how old you are," you murmur, pressing your lips to his jaw. "You realise I barely think about it?" 

True and untrue. He doesn't feel any older than you when he's kissing you into a tizzy, but he's handled this conversation with immense and reassuring maturity. It is so, so nice to have been able to talk about your problem without shame or disgust in the mix, and nice, too, to know he isn't expecting supermodel perfection under your clothes. 

"I know you don't. It's hard not to think about sometimes, maybe you'll understand when you're older." He chuckles at his own joke as he pulls you close, leaning back in the couch cushions and encouraging you to rest the entirety of your weight on him. "Can I kiss you again?" 

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, careful not to jab his chest with your elbows as you grow closer, closer. It's easier to kiss him knowing that no matter what happens, he doesn't mind. He understands. 

"Thank you," you say against his lips. 

"Stop. It's the very least I'd do for you." He kisses the corner of your mouth, covers your hand on his face with his own. "And… let me be crass, but when you say sex, you don't mean every aspect, do you?" Your eyes close as he pulls your nose against his. "I meant what I said earlier, about making you feel good."  

You huff an amorous laugh, "Not every aspect, no… We can figure it out. Please?" 

"Let's make something very clear, honey. You don't have to say please to me. Not about this." 

It means the world to you that after everything, this mess of conversation and flirting alike, you can wrap your arms around him for a hug and be received like it's the one thing Aaron was waiting for. His arms slide behind your back, one hand curled against the curve of your waist and the other stretched broad between your shoulder blades. 

"If it makes you feel better, I have a mole shaped like Louisiana on my stomach," he mumbles. "I didn't know how to bring it up." 

It's not that funny, but paired with your adrenaline rush and the comfort of his arms, you burst out laughing. Aaron joins in with his high-pitched laugh, so unlike his usual dulcet tone, and that makes it worse. You laugh so much you almost forget what you were doing before. Then he touches the small of your back under your shirt, and you remember. 

[weaselle]

You came face to face with a wolf in the woods? What’s the story in that

ok ok so i'm driving through the woods down from Oregon to visit the fam in California, right? And right as i'm about to cross the border from OR to CA i'm like, oh shit, pops is the only one i don't have a christmas present for.

So i see this big weird log-cabin-ass liquor store and i'm all, he loves a unique bottle of wine, gotta be something in there he can't get back home so i pull in.

It's a building made of logs all by itself on the edge of the woods in the hills along the N. border of California. While i'm in there i ask to use the bathroom and they tell me sure, it's a small separate building behind the store

just walk down the foot path into the woods a few yards until you get to the fork and take the right side path to the little bathroom hut. Don't take the left side path unless you want to disappear all the way into the woods. Cool.

So i walk into the woods on the little trail, and i get to the fork in the path, and i can see the little bathroom hut off to the right. Before i take the right, as i'm standing there, i look down the left side path that trails off into the woods.

And right then this full grown wolf steps out onto the trail, about 15 feet from me.

it was in fact, this exact wolf. Altho he is older in this picture than when i met him. When he stepped out to come face to face with me that day, he was quite a bit thinner.

Now at 15 feet, i instantly knew he was a wolf. Not a coyote, certainly not a dog, when you're close and you look in their face it's just different in the snout and eyes.

So i freeze, and i'm looking at him but i'm not making any sustained eye-contact and i'm feeling that weird calm feeling i get when shit is too serious to panic. And i'm trying to look bored because that's the safest middle ground between acting like prey and acting like a threat and i'm like, shit. Shit. Okay. This is a wolf. This is a whole ass wild wolf in the woods, only about 3 body lengths from me. What is about to happen here. One of us is going to do something soon and it better not be the wrong thing.

Wolf is just standing there the same as me. Wouldn't surprise me if it was having basically the exact same thoughts

i wasn't working professionally with dogs yet, but even then i knew canines real well, and as i'm standing there getting a real good look i realize, fuck, this wolf is like, just under 2 years old.

This is very bad news for me.

See, an experienced adult wolf knows things. For instance, an experienced adult wolf knows exactly what it prefers to hunt (not humans) and has probably gotten good at hunting those things (and is therefor not desperate for food) and an older experienced wolf knows that it really can't afford to get injured in a fight if it can avoid one, and probably has figured out that humans are to be left alone.

But a wolf between a year and a half and two years? Is just becoming an adult. This is a wolf that meets an animal the same size as it and has questions.

Questions like "Is this a creature i want to eat?" or "maybe this is a creature that wants to eat me?" and the problem with both of those questions is the answer can easily wind up being "i should probably try to kill it"

Because a mature wolf will assess a threat for the safest way to deal with it, but, like a twenty year old person, a young inexperienced wolf is more prone to brash actions, such as preemptively attacking something it perceives as a threat.

I'm checking his body language and it is reading as uncertain, patient, fairly relaxed but ready for explosive action. Not great, but could be a lot worse.

All this is going through my calm calm head. Like of course i am frightened, but in emergencies my heart like, actually seems to slow a bit? and i get this weird calm clear feeling.

Anyway i'm standing there looking at this wolf, and this wolf is looking at me, and i start to realize... i'm the mature adult in this situation. I have to be the one to decide how this encounter goes.

It was at this point i recalled something i read in a book about cats.

In this book, the author goes to visit her father who is studying lions in Africa. He's staying in a village and when she gets there she is told she might stumble across a lion in the brush if she goes walking around outside the village for any reason (which is why her father is there) and that if she DOES come across a lion, for generations the locals have had a little social exchange worked out with the lions, so she should speak loudly but politely to the lion, and then walk purposefully away at an oblique angle to the lion.

So of course she's on a walk one day and a lion suddenly stands up not far from her. She freezes, unable to do the thing she had been told to do. After waiting and waiting, finally the lion makes a series of loud grunts, and then walks off at an oblique angle, as if to show her how it was done.

I remembered how much sense that made to me when i read it. An oblique angle is like, not straight ahead of you and not straight to the side of you, but sort of halfway between, like one of the branches on a "Y". An oblique angle is more toward than away, so it cannot be mistaken for any kind of running away, but it isn't directly toward the animal enough to be threatening. it is the physical communication equivalent of "You're in my way, but i'll be polite and go around you".

At an oblique angle to my right was the bathroom. So trying to seem like i didn't care about the wolf at all while simultaneously keeping very close track of its reactions, I walked kind of toward him, but way off to one side.

He relaxed more as i did so, watching me go. Then i was inside the little bathroom with the door shut and all my calm went away.

I didn't have my phone on me, and i was in a tiny room in the woods, and all i could think was, jesus christ that was a wolf. A fucking wolf. I just like, walked right by a wolf. A wolf, dude. What if I open the door and the wolf is RIGHT there on the other side? Can i get the door shut fast enough or will he be able to force its way into this cramped space with me? Have i just trapped myself in the woods with this wolf?

Since i was in there anyway, i peed and washed my hands... and then i cracked the door open with my heart in my throat. But that wolf was long gone -- probably melted back into the woods the instant my eyes were all the way off it.

I went back into the liquor store and told the lady in there that there was a wolf nearby, and she said they'd caught a glimpse of it a couple times, and they thought it was a dog jumped out of somebody's truck? I'm not sure she believed me.

Couldn't really blame her. As far as i was aware, there hadn't been any wild wolves in California in close to a hundred years.

So when i got where i was going and found some time to myself around a computer a couple days later, i looked it up.

Sure enough it turns out this wolf on the northern border of California was Wolf OR-7, who, wearing a tracking collar, at one and a half years old, became the first confirmed wild wolf to be in California since 1924, crossing the Oregon border within two days of my sighting him in that area. I found a thread online of people who had managed to get photos of him crossing their property, and while i'm not an expert at identifying wolves, it seemed to be the same wolf. And the right age. And confirmed to be on the border of California the same time I was. And was the only wolf in a hundred years to be there.

I didn't notice a tracking collar on him, but he's also wearing it in the above pic i included, so you can seen how i might have missed it.

So, I met wolf OR-7 face to face! And it was very memorable.

He did very well for himself. Went back up to Oregon and got himself a mate, and founded the Rogue Wolf Pack, the first pack in west Oregon in forever. Most wild wolves are lucky to see six years, but OR-7 (sometimes called Journey) lived to be 11. Some of his pups grew up and started their own packs.

Somebody wrote a book about him, and there's some kind of movie or TV documentary about him i haven't seen, it's called OR-7's Journey or something like that.

Here's a map of his travels

These are his grandchildren, sired by one of his sons

and here is some documentation of wolves in Oregon and California that includes, for example, that OR-7's daughter, OR-54, traveled over 8,000 miles around California and even into Nevada. This is her:

Anyway, that's the story of the time i bumped into a wild wolf in the woods!

[writerpey]

Little!Jayce with Caregiver!Mel & Viktor Headcanons

As a fandom, I know we’re big on little Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx and Viktor more than Jayce. I love every one of them, but hear me out on little cutiepie Jayce! No spoilers for season 2.

Jayce isn’t necessarily afraid to be vulnerable around Mel and Viktor — obviously he seeks comfort from Mel when he needs it and isn’t afraid to weep tears of sadness and joy at Viktor’s bedside. But when he’s little he feels a deep sense of guilt, especially after he takes on his role as a councillor. Like he’s not allowed to regress because there are responsibilities are piled onto his shoulders and he’s a grown man, and who would ever understand

In comes Mel. Jayce regresses around her first because she makes it so easy, with her tender touches and tendency to cradle his face and look at him with such warmth in her eyes that it feels like he’s staring into the sun.

At first he’s small without telling her. They lay on her bed together as the sun sets, Jayce’s head in Mel’s lap and her fingers carding through his hair. It’s a typical pattern for them, a safe space they love to come to and rest quietly in one another’s presence. However, Jayce finds it difficult to hold all of his emotions in and winds up sniffling in her lap one evening, hiding his face in the soft fabric of her dress and quickly dissolving into sobs of relief and embarrassment when Mel tells him that it’s alright, sweetheart. You can cry if you need to.

Mel takes very good care of her boy. She slowly chips away at this new, vulnerable side of him and learns a lot about little Jayce by treating him gently. For one, Jayce is much more sensitive when he’s little, both physically and emotionally. He doesn’t like wearing his stuffy senatorial clothing, and especially hates the high collars of many of his usual shirts and jackets. A way that Mel can tell Jayce is close to regressing or needs to be small is when he tugs at his shirt collar uncomfortably, clearing his throat and practically itching to flee whatever room he’s in.

Emotionally, Jayce is quick to look down on himself and is oftentimes teary. If Mel tells him not to touch her painting while it’s drying after he’s caught curiously poking the canvas, a deep pout will appear on his face and he’ll apologize and go sit himself down in the corner of the room. ‘M sorry, Mel. Didn’t mean to be bad.

He also gets embarrassed very easily, quite unlike his adult self. He has a hard time shaking off his internal adult monologue that tells him there’s something wrong with acting the way he does. He struggles with asking Mel for food or toys and oftentimes prefers to listen to her read out loud rather than participating in a child-like activity. Jayce will hold onto her hand while she reads to him and grows easily frustrated when she has to let go to turn the page.

Viktor knew Jayce was regressing months before he directly found out. Viktor’s incredibly smart and very sharp, so it wasn’t any less than completely obvious to him when he picked up on the way Jayce would skitter away to Mel after a long day or grow too quiet when they worked on the newest Hextech formula together. He was hesitant to bring it up to Jayce, though. Viktor figured that if Jayce wanted him to know he’d say so. Besides, Viktor respects Jayce far too much than to pry in his personal business.

They ended up being forced to confront Jayce’s regression during a late night at the lab. Jayce had fallen asleep at his desk, softly snoring as Viktor quietly tinkered with a new Hextech prototype. However, Jayce’s gentle breathing turned into the smallest sounds of distress — these were common for Viktor to hear, after all, Jayce started having stress dreams about the same time he became a councillor. Viktor glanced over at Jayce, brow furrowing, concerned about the other in a way he didn’t typically show from day to day. His brow furrowed even deeper when Jayce woke with a start and glanced around the room with wild eyes, like he didn’t know where he was.

Then, a soft and scared Mel, left his lips, and Viktor immediately identified what was going on. Jayce had been feeling small even before he fell asleep, and waking up without being in his normal environment with Mel made him regress further. Viktor had never seen him truly regressed before, and everything about Jayce’s body language made him seem so much smaller and unsure than he usually was.

Jayce, you’re here in the lab. It is alright. Viktor reassured him as best he could, despite being very unsure about how to speak to Jayce. The little’s ears went red immediately as he realized where he was and that Viktor was talking to him, and oh no, that Viktor knew he was small when he was supposed to be big. He couldn’t help but to burst into tears of embarrassment, his crying only making him even more upset. Viktor’s oh dear didn’t help matters much either.

Viktor managed to calm Jayce down by simply sitting quietly and allowing him to get all his tears out. Once Jayce’s sobs had slowed down to sniffles, Viktor got up and gently squeezed the little’s shoulders, meeting his eyes. He murmured that everything was quite alright and that they could go and find Mel together. Jayce nearly knocked Viktor down with the force that he threw himself at, wrapping the smaller man in a hug. Viktor wheezed and then chuckled, patting Jayce’s back affectionately as they parted. He knew it was time to see Mel when Jayce’s next action was to tug at the high collar of his shirt. Come on, little one, Viktor remarked, as the pair went off to wake Mel in the middle of the night.

<3

[atxxzist]

sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

--

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

next // series m.list

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

[clarkeybabey]

❝ playing my heartstrings like a rock star ❞

# summary; you're messing with his feelings and he doesn't understand why

# playlist; hey arthur!, arthur hill, think i'm in love with you, chris stapleton, please notice, christian leave

# word count; 1.9k

# note; i needed a happy ending my first fic on here cant be angst<3 I did not proofread this so sorry

The three boys sat in their sitting room, a comfortable silence lingering as they scrolled through their phones. "Arthur wants to know if we're going to come to the pub with him," George finally spoke up, looking to his friends and mentally crossing his fingers they'd agree. They deserved it after the week they've had.

Arthur chews the inside of his lip waiting for Chris' reply, not wanting to be the one to reject the invitation, but he knows you'll be there after your earlier text about going for drinks.

Chris shrugs laying his phone down next to him, "I don't see why not," both he and George stand, heading in the direction of their bedrooms to grab sweaters and shoes, assuming everyone is down.

When they disappear from sight, Arthur finds himself groaning, pressing his palms so hard to his closed eyes that he sees stars dotting his vision when he eventually opens them. It's not that he doesn't want to see you, he knows that when he does he can't resist the later idea of going home with you and he hates himself for it.

"They can't know," you always say, referring to your shared group of friends, "it'll throw off the dynamic, you can just come to my flat for the night on the weekend." You're grown adults, who cares what you get into when you're alone? He doubts anyone would really care as much as you think, but every time he tries to express that someone ends up with their feelings hurt, and 99.9% of the time they're his.

He makes his way to his room, spending more time than he cares to admit trying to find the cologne he knows is your favorite. His closet's a mess, but he finds the jumper you love to steal kicking himself for trying so hard as he throws it on over his old t-shirt. He stands in his bathroom pulling a baseball cap on to cover how flat his hair had become from lying on the couch for the last two hours.

Chris is yelling something from the kitchen about how he's worse than a woman about his looks, he can't find it in himself to care enough to think of a witty reply, instead just shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

their bar of choice isn't far so they decide walking is the better and cheaper option, the walk is quick, and he stays a few paces behind his friends with music playing in his airpods as he gives himself a pep talk preparing to see you.

You sit at the bar with Becky and Arthur chatting about everything and nothing all at once, "You know, babe, I still need to get you on see it off, George and both Arthurs have nominated you now," she remarks, smirking as she brings her pint to her lips, you look to Arthur whos nodding along with her.

As the three of you chat, you're practically yelling over the people around you, "Let me know a date and we'll get it sorted," you smile, Arthur pipes up about needing the toilet and slips off his stool heading off in the direction of the restrooms.

As soon as he's out of sight, she scoots into the seat he once inhabited with her brows raised, "Anything new with you and Mr Hill?" You sigh, dreading having to answer that question, "There won't be anything new ever I don't think, I've made it clear how bad of an idea we are," your stomach turns at your own words, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea wash over you.

It wasn't like you didn't want anything other than to be with him, but everyone was so close and the what if's shadow how good the relationship could be.

What if something bad happens and you can't spend time together as a big group any longer? What if you couldn't film together? What if you had to listen to songs written about how bad of a girlfriend you were? She groans, her head falling onto her crossed arms, "You're so doubtful, darling. Give him a shot, he's such a sweet boy, especially to you." She sounded exactly like your mum when you told her the same thing after he came home with you one weekend. Sighing you continue, "I've never met someone like him-" You're cut off suddenly as rough hands slap over your eyes, "Guess who," George Clarke and his atrociously fake, heightened voice are quite unmistakable, you shove his hands away, giggling, and spin on your stool.

Your heart thumps against your chest, rattling your ribcage knowing there's no chance he and Chris showed up without the one person you've been waiting all week to see, sure enough there he is, though he's not even looking in your direction instead his eyes are glued to his phone screen with both headphones in, obviously not wanting to be here in the slightest.

You greet the boys not really paying any mind to anything being said, keeping your attention on Arthur the whole time. finally, once the four of your friends are distracted, you slip off your barstool and join him at the table he was sitting at alone, "You alright?" your question hangs in the air as you sink your teeth into the plush of your lower lip, "Fine, thanks," he replies dryly going out of his way to seem as uninterested as possible.

Scoffing, you snatch his phone from his hand, pausing whatever was playing on his Spotify, "Talk to me, please? I missed you." His eyes soften at your words as he fights with himself not to give in to you too easily, "missed you too," he mumbles as he picks at the skin on his fingers anxiously wanting to spew all the thoughts he's having about the two of you. Together.

Luckily for him, you beat him to it, "I wanna be with you," your words are lost to him at first as he sputters, not truly believing what he's just heard. He hates the way you can read his mind, "Like, seriously, I mean it, but we can't" he shakes his head bitterly, thinking this has to be some sort of sick joke you and Becky had strewn together.

"Do you know how many times I've heard that, y/n? I mean, seriously, tell it to someone else." He sounds so dismissive, and it hurts, but nothing hurts as bad as the sight of tears welling up in his pretty eyes. You just sit there, looking at him blankly with a lump forming in your throat, searching his eyes for something other than what he's said, but you can't seem to find it.

You scoff sliding his phone across the table back to him, "Right, sorry," you nod biting at the skin on the inside of your cheek, you turn on your heels and Arthur hates the look that you give him over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around yourself, like you see right through his attitude into the deeper side of things.

When you return George is wearing the glasses you mistakenly left in now-drunk Becky's purse, faking your accent in the worst way you've ever heard, "Those are prescription, you're gonna hurt your eyes," you sigh shaking your head, doing your best to smile. You pull them away from his face by the bridge, folding them to tuck into the v of your top, "Think 'm gonna get going," you mumble, avoiding everyone's eyes as the laughter dies down.

"So soonnnn?" Becky pouts jutting out her bottom lip for good measure, tucking your phone into your back pocket, murmuring something about how you have to film in the morning. Your friends say goodbye as you go around hugging everyone, when you get to Chris he pulls you in and whispers into your ear, "Take Arthur with you, please? He's bloody miserable." His breath is hot and riddled with the smell of beer as it fans across your face.

From across the room, Arthur feels his blood run hot as Chris whispers something to you and his hand lingers on your waist for longer than he deems friendly or comfortable, rolling his eyes he nibbles at the dry skin on his bottom lip until he begins to notice the familiar metallic taste of blood linger on his tongue. Nothing about this evening was going well and it just seems like lives trying to get back at him for something he doesn't even know he's done.

He was too busy in his own head to notice your presence just next to him, "C'mon, my uber's waiting," nearly falling off his stool as your words snapped him from the trance he was in, "Not up for it tonight," you scoff at his words, of course, he's thinking the opposite of what you had planned.

"Don't want you to fuck me, just wanna spend time with you," His brows raise involuntarily at your bluntness, a smirk playing on his lips, knowing you can't stay away just as much as he, boosts his confidence every damn time.

He doesn't find it in himself to reject you again, simply sliding off the still and interlocking your fingers, hoping to God every one of your friends is watching. As you make it outside your uber is in fact not there, he's about a mile out so you lean against the brick wall, Arthur's close proximity looming over you, "What was Chris on about?" Your drooping eyes shoot open, and the jealousy in his voice makes you smirk, seeing an opportunity to toy with him, just a bit,

"What's it to you," you shoot back, arms crossed over your chest he steps closer suddenly invading your space, his cologne which so happens to be your favorite begins to cloud your nose and mind as your chest rises and falls, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "You know exactly what it is to me, sweetheart."

His thumb and forefinger grip your chin forcing you to meet his eyes, the rings of his hands are cold against your heating face, "If 'm going home with you, I suggest you share." Your breath hitches at the dominance that's suddenly radiating off him, you fight the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head as his breath fans across your face, instead letting them fall closed once more.

You swallow, once more allowing eye contact, "He thought you were miserable and I should take you home with me." The smirk on your face makes Arthur regret ever telling Chris and George about how he'd wanted to spend more time with you. "I want to give this a shot," he scans your face waiting for you to remind him how you shouldn't but you don't say anything else.

"You mean it," his thumb rubs circles on the exposed skin of your hip, you nod, knowing words would betray you, "Need to hear you say it," he sounds breathless, looking at you with hopeful raised eyebrows.

"I wanna be your girlfriend-" his lips meet yours before you can even finish your thought, both hands cupping cupping your face. A wolf whistle comes from your immediate left and he pulls away but doesn't step back, shielding you from view, though you see over his shoulder as both George and Arthur hand Becky what look to be ten-pound notes.

[krirebr]

I Know I Should Know Better 4

Pairing: Curtis Everett x Female Reader, references to past Colin Shea x Female Reader & past Johnny Storm x Female Reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

Summary: Curtis has been working as your body guard for almost two years now. Standing by and watching you work and party your life away is becoming more and more difficult, but is there anything he can do about it?

Warnings: Angst, adult themes, complicated power dynamics, minor age difference (not explicit in this part, but reader is mid-twenties and Curtis is early thirties), drinking & implied drug use, explicit language, bad boyfriend (Colin continues to be awful, even though we haven't actually seen him since part 2), self-destructive behavior, anxiety, negative self-talk. She's still having a bad time, you guys. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Well, here it is! As I currently have it planned, this will be seven parts, so we're officially past the halfway point now. This part's a little shorter, but I'm hoping you'll think it's worth it.

Big thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down the new character here! (If you don't remember doing that Carly, it's because it was ages ago 🤣)

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screaming at me. 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The drive to the restaurant was uncomfortable. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just you. Sitting in the backseat alone, while Curtis and Jensen quietly conversed in the front, you felt ridiculous. You should learn how to drive. You were a grown woman who couldn’t even get herself anywhere—just another way you didn’t know how to be responsible for yourself.

You stared at Curtis in the front seat. It’d been a few weeks since your boundaries conversation. You hadn’t spoken to him much since. He was right. It was better. Cleaner. But you missed being able to talk to him.

Something had changed about the way he watched you though. You would swear that it was more intense now, the way his eyes followed you around the room. And it always seemed like he had something to say, he’d just never say it. He didn’t make any sense.

You took a breath. You were nervous about this lunch. You weren’t entirely sure what the purpose of it was, aside from the fact that Marnie Reynolds had wanted to meet. You hadn’t seen her in years and then she just texted you out of the blue two days ago, asking if you wanted to have lunch. You assumed she was going to pitch you something. Why else would she want to talk? You hoped it’d be something easy to agree to. It would make Wilford and Tanya feel better if someone actively wanted to work with you, at the very least. 

The restaurant wasn’t the kind of place you normally went to. It was nice, but tucked away, not designed for those who wanted to see and be seen. Marnie had chosen it. She was waiting for you at a small table in the back, even more private. She stood as you approached and enveloped you in a warm hug. She was just as glamorous as you remembered, suddenly hit by memories of sitting in her trailer while she let you try on her jewelry. She’d always been so nice to you. “Oh, honey, it’s so good to see you,” she said as you both sat down. 

You smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you, too. How are you?” 

“Oh, good, good,” she said with a big smile. “Just got back from a shoot in Greece. Happy to be home.” Her eyes lost a little of their luster as she asked, “How are you, darling?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you said. You could tell she wanted you to say more, but you just nodded and shrugged.

“Well,” she looked at you carefully, “I can’t get over how grown up you are. I know it’s silly, but I think I’ll always see you as the sixteen-year-old I met at the table read ten years ago.”

 “You and all of America,” you said dryly before you could think better of it.

Instead of chastising you, she just nodded. “I’m very grateful I didn’t have to grow up so publicly and then have to make that transition to being an adult. I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

You shrugged again. You didn’t really know what to say to her.

“Which, speaking of, I owe you an apology.”

Panic rose in your chest. Oh, god. Had she sold a story about you? Said something private in an interview? Blocked you from a new role? You weren’t sure you could handle one more thing right now. “Oh?” you asked shakily.

She nodded, seriously. “I should have done a better job of keeping in touch with you after we’d finished the movie. I owed you that much. I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your brow, confused.  “That’s fine. You’ve been so busy. I didn’t really expect you to remember me. I mean, you won an Oscar. I know how much work that takes.”

“Mmm,” she said, “and you sent me flowers.”

You shrugged. You just kept shrugging. “Well, you were always kind to me, and I was so happy for you. It seemed like the least I should do.”

 “You were always so sweet. I’m so happy to see that hasn’t changed.”

At the sincerity on her face, you looked down at your menu. You didn’t know what to say to that. 

“How’s your mom?” she asked, her tone strangely cautious. “Is she still your manager?”

“Oh, no. Wilford helped me get a new one when I turned 18. He thought I needed someone more experienced.”

She let out a breath, almost like she was relieved. “I have to admit, I’m happy to hear that.” You gave her a confused look and she continued softly, “She was always so hard on you. It was part of why I always invited you to my trailer. It seemed like you could really use a break from her.” She gave you another impossibly warm smile. “Plus, you were such great company. I loved making that movie with you.”

You couldn’t hide your relief when the server chose that moment to take your orders. You didn’t know what to do with the fondness in Marnie’s eyes. 

Once you were both done ordering, you decided you were ready to talk business. “So, what’s the project?” you asked.

She looked confused. “Project?”

“Uh, yeah. Whatever you wanted to pitch me? The reason you asked me here.”

“Oh, honey, no, I’m sorry. There’s no project. I just wanted to see you.”

That didn’t make sense. That she didn’t want to work with you again made sense. No one did, so of course she didn’t either. But then why else were you here? “I don’t understand,” you said quietly.

She let out a sad little sigh. “I’ve seen some of what’s been going on with you, online, and it just seems like you need a friend. I want to be that for you. I think about you more than you know.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

She grabbed your hand over the table. “There’s so much going on for you right now. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and then to have to deal with it in public too.”

You didn’t say anything, just looked at your joined hands on the table. Then, finally, still looking down, “Uh, yeah. I’m having a pretty hard time.”

She squeezed your hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m here to listen if you ever want to talk about it.” 

You finally looked up and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. You weren’t sure you could.

She looked at you carefully. “Have you thought about taking a break at all?”

You were reminded of Curtis, sitting on your couch, looking at you so earnestly, talking about taking a year off. You shook the image out of your head. “No,” you said. “It isn’t a good time. My reputation isn’t great right now, so I need to get back out there and show people that I can do the work. I need to fix it.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, “that sounds like agent speak.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “he’s right.”

“Remember, though,” she said, slowly, “that you’re a person, too. Not just a career.”

You just looked at her, blankly. Your career had been the most important thing about you since you were nine years old. You didn’t know how to separate the two. Luckily, that was when the server returned with your food, and Marnie graciously took it as a sign to take over the conversation for the rest of your meal. She talked about the movie she’d just finished, how her kids were doing, and the large garden she was planting at home. It was nice. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a meal out with a friend like this.

Still, you left the restaurant feeling raw and restless. You weren’t sure what to do with that conversation, the hard parts of it. The way she looked at you like she actually saw you. There was an itch in you now that just made you want to run.

Instead, as soon as you got home, you poured yourself a glass of sangria from the pitcher your housekeeper kept in your fridge and took the latest script Wilford had sent you onto your deck. You could feel Curtis watching you as you moved through the glass doors. That was his job, you told yourself. It was just his job.

The script fucking sucked. It was awful. The opposite of what you wanted to do. But you knew what Wilford would say. Beggars can’t be choosers. This was your fault. You were the one who’d destroyed your reputation. You had to be the one to fix it. And if making shit like this would fix it, then that’s what you had to do. Too many people relied on you for you not to do whatever you could, take whatever paychecks you could get. You hated it. You hated it so much. But you would do it.

You picked up your phone. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was well into the evening now. There was a text from Michelle an hour ago, letting you know she’d left. And a few minutes ago, one from Nikki, a girl you partied with sometimes, that just said ‘Fuck them both!’

What the hell did that mean? Panic began to crawl up your throat and your hands started to shake as you typed your name into Google and clicked on News. Your stomach dropped.  Johnny Storm, that snowboarder you’d barely dated over a year ago, apparently had a podcast now. And the latest episode, posted that day, featured Colin Shea as its guest. Shit. Fuck. You couldn’t even look at what they’d said. There was no point. It was all just the same old bullshit.

You felt tears start to prick at your eyes. Why couldn’t everyone just leave you the fuck alone? You weren’t even that interesting. How could they possibly have anything to talk about?

Fuck that, you thought, as you stormed back into your house. You distantly registered Curtis calling after you, but you didn’t pay any attention. You were too focused. You headed straight up to your bedroom. They wanted something to talk about? You’d fucking give it to them! You charged into your closet and grabbed the sluttiest, shiniest dress you had. Fuck yeah. You could do this. You would be exactly who they wanted you to be. If they wanted a show so fucking badly, you’d give them one.

You ran back downstairs, looking for a particular pair of earrings that a costar had given you as a wrap gift a couple of years ago – huge dangly ones that said Fuck on one ear and You on the other. There was nothing subtle about what you were going for tonight. 

You’d have to think of someone to call, too. Someone suitable for the kind of scene you wanted to make, the kind of big mistake you wanted to fall into. You were so fucking tired of holding it all together. You were done. Your mind immediately landed on Lucas Lee, your costar in that dumb action movie last year. He was awful but so hot. Nothing but trouble and always up for whatever. Perfect.

As you entered your living room, your eyes landed on one of your jewelry boxes on the coffee table. There they were! As you picked up the box, you realized Curtis was sitting by himself on the couch. You saw him take in your short, sparkly dress and grimace. You weren’t in the mood to analyze it. “I’m going out,” you announced. “Have Jensen get the car ready.” 

You were already moving through, headed back upstairs when you heard Curtis rasp, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You turned on a dime. “Excuse me?”

“I think,” he said slowly, so calmly you wanted to break something, “that going out right now, in the sort of mood you’re clearly in, would be a very bad idea.”

What the actual fuck? “Since when,” you asked, your voice quiet with seething anger, “is it your job to tell me what to do?”

He shook his head and you didn’t know how to react to how sad he looked. “I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m asking you to stay home tonight. For your own safety, which very much is my job.”

You just stared at him, dumbfounded. You didn’t understand him. He told you you weren’t friends. He was the one who said he was just your bodyguard. So what the hell was he doing now? 

In the moment you stood frozen, just staring at him, he took a cautious step forward. “Did something happen?” he asked barely above a whisper.

You shook your head furiously. You felt like you could barely form words. You were so angry and lost, and scared, and sad, and confused. You were feeling more than you thought your body could contain. And you knew, you knew, the only way to get these feelings out would be to go out and get as wild as you could. And here Curtis was, not letting you. You were afraid you were going to explode. “That’s fine,” you finally got out, ignoring his question. “You don’t have to come with me. Jake neither. I’ll get a fucking Uber.” You took a step towards the opening of the room. “Go home Jake!” you shouted through the house. “I won’t need you tonight!”

Curtis sighed your name. “I’m not going to let you go out by yourself,” he said firmly.

You threw your hands in the air. “Then make up your goddamn mind!” 

Jake appeared in the doorway, looking confused and Curtis turned to him. You took the opportunity to get back to the safety of your room, leaving your security detail to figure their shit out. Once back in your room, you dug through the jewelry box until you found the earrings you were looking for. You heard your back door open and close. Good. Jake, at least, was gone. You knew Curtis would be harder, but you were fucking determined. 

Just as you were opening Uber on your phone, Curtis appeared in your doorway. “What,” you growled.

“Would you just listen to me for a minute?!” He said, not quite a yell, but not not that either, as he barged into your room. All of his practiced calm from downstairs was completely gone. “Something bad is going to happen if you go out tonight! It is, I know it is. And I know you can feel it too!”

“Why do you care?!” You shouted at him. “No one else does! Why do you care so much?!”

“You know why!” he shouted back, and took another step toward you, but then suddenly stopped. Much, much quieter, much softer, and with eyes so pleading, he said “You must know.”

You didn’t. You really don’t think you knew until that moment, when the realization slammed into you. Every look, every sigh, all of the moments of him that hadn’t made sense. You took a step back. “What?” you breathed, barely realizing that you were shaking.

He took a step forward to follow you, then stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, but you shook your head at him. “No,” you said. “You can’t.”

“I can’t?!” he asked, incredulous and upset again.

“No!” you shouted, but it was so much weaker now. “I just– Why would– I’m such a fucking mess!” You were starting to cry, the adrenaline of the last half-hour finally leaking out of you, replaced by that same bone-deep exhaustion that you’d had for too long. “I barely have a high school education. I don’t know how to do anything for myself. No one wants to work with me. I am barely keeping it together and everyone knows it. I’m a trainwreck! Why would you–” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that you knew he meant. “Why would you have feelings for someone like that?”

 The sadness was back in his face. You looked away, unable to bear it. In your periphery, you saw him take a cautious step forward, then pause. When you made no move to run, he eliminated the distance between you, standing directly in front of you. He slowly, gently, carefully brought one hand up to touch your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I know all that and I still love you. Because I also know that somehow, despite everything, you are one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. You are so kind. And thoughtful. You let everyone see your soft spots, even when all they do is hurt you. You have every reason to be awful or bitter or mean or any of a thousand things. But you aren’t. It’s all of it, it’s all of those things and the ones you said too. All of it together, that’s why I love you. I love you because you’re you.”

You wanted to sob. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to you before. Not anyone in your family, or a single one of your exes. No one had ever cared enough to say any of that. Except for Curtis. He’d always cared, hadn’t he? Since that first day he’d showed up, when you’d been so scared about the possibility of a stalker, he’d taken such care with you. He was the most caring, thoughtful, beautiful person you knew. You took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.  You could see his worry, but also the deep conviction with which he’d just said all that to you. You couldn’t help yourself anymore. You surged forward and you kissed him. 

He made a noise of surprise—you didn’t know how he could possibly be surprised after all that—but after just a moment he was kissing you back, bringing both hands up to cradle your head. You were getting your tears all over him, but he didn’t seem to care. He was soft and gentle and passionate. You needed more. You needed all of him.

You took a step back, breaking the kiss. You did what you could to brush the tears off your face. You grabbed the bottom of your dress and pulled it over your head, then tossed it on the floor. You stood in front of him in the lingerie you’d picked out to fuck Lucas Lee of all people and couldn’t understand how you’d ever been able to think about anyone but Curtis. But you did know how when you stopped to think about it. You’d never been able to fathom that you might deserve this man. That he might actually want you.

He stared at you. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re–” you braced yourself for what might come next. So hot or fucking sexy. You’d even gotten beautiful once or twice. He only took a second before he finished his sentence “–incredible,” with such awe on his face that you actually felt your knees go weak. You had to look away. He was too much.

He took your face in his hands again and placed a soft, short kiss on your lips. “But would it be ok if we slowed down?” he asked.

You couldn’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. “Why?” 

“This is real for me,” he said. “And if we do this, I want it to be real for you too. I want you to be sure. And for now,” he stroked one thumb over your cheekbone, “right now I just want to hold you. Is that alright? If I just hold you tonight?”  

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Sex had always been the best, most important part of any of your relationships. It’d been the biggest thing that any of your previous partners had wanted from you. You weren’t sure you knew how to do it any other way. But he was holding you so gently, looking at you so softly, all you could do was nod. 

He kissed you once more. Then stepped back and started to take off his clothes. You made your way to your bed and got in, watching him as he shed his clothes. He really was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Nothing on any movie set you’d ever been on, any party you’d ever been to could compare to him. 

Once he was down to just his boxers, he crawled in next to you and pulled you close. Your lips touched his shoulder as you asked, barely audible, “You really love me?”

He kissed your forehead. “Yes,” he whispered. “I really love you.”

Taglist is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @before-we-get-started @veltana @andydrysdalerogers @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whosana-maria @dancer3205 @ijustneedpopcorn @mrsevans90 @pekusofixus @i-can-do-this-all-dayy @jamneuromain @kmc1989 @geminiflanagansblog @stcrrjoon @blogbog710 @blackhawkfanatic

[mermaidsirennikita]

I feel I should say I’m one of those people who read Wuthering Heights as a full-grown adult and was like, “How in the hell is this romantic? Cathy married someone else to get away from Heathcliff, and then her murderous ghost kills him for what he did to her children.”

To only focus on young Cathy and Heathcliff’s doomed romance is to seriously miss the point of the book.

I don't think the novel was ever intended to be romantic (... in a conventional sense), but it has a very compelling romantic relationship between two people that influenced later straightforward fictional love stories, which is why it is what it is today.

However, I will disagree on the take on Cathy's motives for marrying Linton. She doesn't marry Linton to escape Heathcliff; she marries Linton to go TO a level of status that she does not currently have. She does love Linton, in her way, and appreciates the gentleness and stability her offers.

However, Cathy does not present Heathcliff as someone she "will not" marry when explaining her mindset to Nelly. She presents him as someone she CANNOT marry because he's too "low" for her. At this point, he doesn't have the wealth he'll have when he comes back, and I would also say: Heathcliff is NOT the degree of fucked up that he is when he returns. He's super abused and angry... but he's a teenager. He doesn't have shit. He's not angry at Cathy the way he is when he returns, because though he knows she's heading towards something with Linton and is acting differently, she has not married Linton YET. He's possessive of her, but the relationship is not in the place that it is in when he returns from his mysterious absence.

If Heathcliff was not low, Cathy would quite possibly (probably?) marry him. Her big speech is telling Nelly that she loves both men, but her "pretty" love for Linton will fade. Her love for Heathcliff is an "ugly" love, but it is enduring and will always endure. Cathy doesn't see him as something to run from as a person; she sees him as an extension of herself. Catherine and Heathcliff, especially Catherine because she dies so young, lack separate identities. They are basically one person growing up—and in fact, at points Catherine is the worse one, as she takes part, as a child, in the abuse of Heathcliff before growing to love him. (I mean, she's a child motivated in part by jealousy... but still.) She's also manipulative , abusive to Nelly (the "help"), and basically puts on a good face to Edgar Linton that disguises how fucked up she actually is.

Catherine Earnshaw is essentially denying her actual self (not necessarily her best self, but who she is at her core) when she marries Linton. She is turning her back on whatever identity she has, however fractured and enmeshed with Heathcliff's it may be.

Catherine has become somewhat tamed when Heathcliff returns, and she's fully aware of how bad his behavior is (see: Isabella Linton). But that doesn't mean she doesn't want him around. She wants him and Linton to settle their conflict, she wants him to be "her" Heathcliff again (versus who he is when he returns successful and even more embittered) and it reads as very "have my cake and eat it too". Which is consistent with the selfishness that seems inherent to her even in childhood.

She wants her marriage to Linton. She also wants Heathcliff to settle down (emotionally speaking... not with another woman lol) so that she doesn't have to worry about their conflict anymore and clearly has much more passion for Heathcliff. Her death is linked in part to that passion; she's mentally ill, she's stressed about Linton barring her from Heathcliff, she's not eating and isolating herself, all while pregnant. She declares her love for him right before she dies and basically gives him shit for like... not at the same time... because she can't handle the idea of him being alive when she's not. She basically screams at him to stay with her when he's about to dip because Linton is returning from his errand (while Nelly sits there like OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK as her super pregnant and super dying mistress like... basically makes out with Heathcliff.... and her husband is heading up the stairs about to burst into the room....).

And Heathcliff in turn wastes away (maybe self-starvation?) because he wants to be with Cathy's ghost. The description of his corpse indicates that he looks happy to die and be with Cathy. I don't think her ghost killed him by any means—but if she did, it was exactly what both of them wanted. Eternity together in death.

I mean, who knows what Catherine Earnshaw would've bene like as a mom to Cathy II. But I kind of highly doubt she would've been a good one. As soon as Heathcliff was back on the scene, she started denying her husband and obsessing over him, and if she'd made it past the birth, I don't think that would've changed at all. Catherine is, from jump, a shitty person, and I feel that her ability to be shitty and passionate and very much a partial architect of her own destruction (mutually with Heathcliff, and she in turn his a mutual architect of his downfall like, she and Heathcliff are essentially planning their long game suicide pact in their last scene together lol... and it's Heathcliff's bitterness and determination for vengeance that keeps him dying sooner, versus a lack of desire to be dead with Cathy) is what makes Catherine such a fabulous character.

Heathcliff is a horrible person, but Catherine isn't THAT much better, and she does not seem to truly WANT to be that much better when we take away what she thinks she should be.

[chaifootsteps]

Just me or does 'I don't want you here, go home please!' get more annoying every time I see/hear it? If Stolas had just said 'I don't want to talk to you right now, give me space' that would be one thing but something about his lines rub me the wrong way.

Possible overthinking here, but the first bit implies he's putting some special emphasis on what 'here' is - it's not 'I don't want you around (in general)' or 'I don't want to see you (right now)' it's 'I don't want you here (this specific place)'. It kind of makes it sound like Stolas thinks Blitz being at the party is ruining it for him - before he could just get drunk and call Blitz a motherfucker in peace but now Blitz is physically there he has to be sad again and worse, actually deal with Blitz as a person and not just some abstract who hurt him by being a big meanie.

The second part is worse because he's telling Blitz to go home from somewhere that isn't even his house. Stolas has no right to tell Blitz to leave, especially not from a party dedicated to hating him. Once again for someone who totally doesn't look down on Blitz he sure loves to try and dismiss him when he doesn't want to deal with him. At least last time they were talking in his house, what's his excuse this time?

I think in general the line just feels very childish. Like I get that he's drunk but it just gets more impressive by the episode that we're supposed to still think of Stolas as a prince considering his ability to not take out his emotions on other people is as good as a seven year old's. Same with the 'let me not feel so sad' line - he delivers it like someone who's never experienced heartbreak before and just can't stand feeling bad for more than a second despite being a thirty year old man who has raised a child.

It's like a sordid a cross between a child who doesn't know how to manage his emotions and a grown adult rich man who physically abuses his servants, and Stolas is both.

It's basically saying "I don't want you here, you're not fun to play with anymore, you're dismissed."

[softtdaisy]

“Just come here, let me hold you.” With Mick please❤️

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x female!reader

Words: 900

A/n: this is a bit more angsty so I really really hope you will love it anon 🥺🤍

There weren't that many things that Mick didn’t like in life.

He didn’t like the end of the summer, because it always made him feel sad and nostalgic. When he was a kid it meant no more holidays, going back to school and watching his dad going back to the race for a few more months.

He wasn’t a fan of the press. He couldn’t stand all the crazy and stupid stories that were made about him or his family and he wished there was a way to stop it all.

To be fair he wasn’t a big fan of some vegetables either. But being a grown adult now, it wasn’t a real problem anymore.

But above all, he hated seeing the people he loved being sad and broken. He could feel that pain in his bones.

Mick could kill for his family.

He could kill for you.

He didn’t expect you today. You were with your so great boyfriend. So Mick was pretty surprised when you called. And he was upset when he heard you crying.

“Are…are you home Mick? I’m at your door and…” He didn’t let you finish your sentence before opening the front door. And there you were, standing in front of his door like you’ve been waiting for minutes. He could tell you’ve been crying for a few times already. He didn’t hesitate a single second and took you in his arms to bring you inside. As soon as you felt Mick’s contact you let yourself go and cried harder.

You were like a rag doll in his arms. He brought you to his sofa and took off both your jackets and your shoes so you could lay against him. Mick tried to calm you down, whispering soft things in your ears, caressing your hair softly. If you needed hours to talk, he would wait. There was no universe in which he would let you go.

So Mick waited. He let his phone ring in his kitchen because he didn’t want to make you move. He counted the number of bricks on the wall in front of him. At first he thought it was 61, but it turned out it was 62.

It wasn’t until you finally felt calmer, to the point Mick even thought you were asleep, that you finally told him the truth. “He cheated on me.”

Four words.

Four that almost broke you down again if tou still had tears.

Four that made Mick so angry he could walk to your appartement and beat that man.

Mick never liked your boyfriend. And god knows he gave him multiple chances. From the day you introduced them to each other, Mick could tell something was off. Maybe the way he always kept a hand on you when Mick was around like he could steal you from him. The way he made his love for you sounds like you should be blessed by this gift. Like it wasn’t natural to love you.

Mick was naturally in love with you. But never felt like he deserves you. Not when he was always away.

“Do you want me to kill me?” He asked very seriously. Mick could do that.

But then he heard your laugh. A small, almost inaudible laugh. But it was there. You turned around to face him and it broke him to see the tears stuck on your cheeks. “Is it bad that I want to say yes?”

“I won’t blame you, love.” He replied, still caressing your hair.

Mick entertained you by telling you a whole plan on how to make your boyfriend disappear. There were so many good and funny ways that you were wondering for how long he has been planning this.

But then you got up with an urgent need to go to the bathroom.

There was always something so comforting about being at Mick’s place. It felt more like home than your apartment did. Maybe it was the way it obviously smelled like Mick everywhere. How you could see the shirts hanging, shirts that you had been wearing in the past. Shirts that he forgot at your place and that you washed yourself before bringing him back.

Now your place didn’t feel like your own after your boyfriend moved in. His stuff was everywhere, almost making your presence disappear.

And it hit you.

When you came back to the living room you were crying again. “I can’t go back there Mick.”

“Just come here, let me hold you.” He told you without hesitating any second. You ran to his arms and you were back in your safe place. You were crying less, but Mick was still kissing your hair and trying to make you feel better. He wanted to hold you forever. Or for long he needed to so all your pain vanished away. He could even accept to feel it for you.

“You can stay here for as long as you need my love.” He whispered. You nodded and Mick sighed. He wished he could do more. He wished he could go there and make your stupid ex leave. He wished he could burn his clothes off so you didn’t even have to see him again.

Selfishly, he hoped you won’t ever want to leave him. So he can make you feel appreciated. Prove you that you deserve a good boyfriend that loves you. Just like Mick did.

[merakiui]

thinking about a royalty omegaverse au with fluffy alpha floyd.

(cw: omegaverse/abo, nsfw, female reader, pregnancy, knotting)

You and Floyd grew up together within the palace, with Floyd being one of the two princes who would one day rule the kingdom and you being a regular servant girl who had been born within the palace to parents who were servants for the Leech family. From the moment you were deemed old enough, you were being trained in servitude so that one day you would eventually be an obedient, dutiful maid. You and Floyd got along very well as children, often escaping your lessons and scaling trees in the courtyard to hide from the pesky grown-ups. Floyd never seemed to care much for the divide in class, but it was always made obvious when you’d watch from afar, noting how much time and effort went into tutoring him and Jade in all subjects, getting them accustomed to the tasks of the throne that they would one day inherit, while you were taught how to do laundry, how to clean, how to tidy a bedroom within minutes, how to keep everything that made you an omega hidden so you wouldn’t “tempt the princes,” as everyone often said.

Despite that, you were still cordial to Floyd, even if he seemed to be way too friendly with you, a mere servant. Floyd had always said you were his favorite maid because you never acted like one, which had bothered you immensely back then. Your entire existence revolves around Floyd; you’re meant to serve him and his brother, not befriend him. It’s what you’re being conditioned to do right now! But Floyd chooses to see you as his friend, which makes it awkward for you as you’ve never been particularly close with royalty or any of the aristocrats who occasionally fill the palace for grand events and balls. Your parents secretly encourage it because Floyd likes to gift you things that he thinks are insignificant but cost a fortune for you. And your parents sell these items to make more money in hopes of one day saving enough to send you to a magic school. It won’t be anything nearly as sophisticated or expensive as private institutions like Night Raven College or Noble Bell College or even Royal Sword Academy, but they hope to at least give you an education. You feel a little bad about tricking Floyd when you accept the jewelry he gives you, but you’re just trying to keep everyone happy.

Floyd’s scent was always strong, even after he had finally presented as an alpha, but as he grew older it only became so much more stifling. Not that it’s a bad thing. It doesn’t bother you as much as it used to. Now you can tell when he’s bounding down the halls the moment you catch his scent before you actually see him. You’re usually good about keeping track of your own biological troubles. The palace provides all staff with heat suppressants and rut modulators and scent blockers just to keep things peaceful and prevent any issues. As always, dutiful as ever, you follow the rules and do everything that’s expected of you.

As a result of your obedience, Floyd has never known what you smell like.

Until years later, when the both of you have become fine young adults. He and Jade had been accepted into NRC, which wasn’t much of a surprise, and a big celebration was held to commemorate the acceptance letters that their parents proudly boast. Unfortunately, the celebration happened to fall on the day Floyd’s rut started. His ruts have always been sporadic, as if they’re mirroring his own spontaneous nature, but it could just be because he refuses to take any medications necessary to regulate such things. He’s royalty. Why should he? Floyd’s ruts always leave him in the most volatile of moods; he’s violent and irritable, prone to lashing out at anyone who happens to get under his skin.

Usually, he locks himself away in his room and fights through it, dazed, hungry, and endlessly horny. Tonight, however, he seems to be roaming the halls as if in a trance, led by a scent that is foreign to his keen nose. So when you turn down the corridor and nearly run into him in the shadowed hall, you think for a quick moment that this is Jade. But then Floyd’s overwhelming pheromones hit you like cold water in the face and you almost crumple to your knees.

“Y-Your Highness!” You take a measured step away from him, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are fixated on your face, nostrils flaring and pupils blown impossibly wide. “Can I... Can I help you with something?”

He smiles at you, a lazy stretch of his lips that shows off rows of pointed teeth. “Shrimpy smells nice.” He looms over you, his scent rolling off of him in aroused waves. “Real nice.”

Your blood runs cold and you slap your hand upon your neck, realizing with rising horror that you forgot to put your scent blockers on. You’d been so wrapped up in party preparations that it had completely slipped your mind. No wonder why Jade had given you such a strange look when you’d served him his breakfast! He must have smelled you.

You know this is a terrible mistake made even worse by the alpha in rut standing before you. And not just any alpha in rut. It's Floyd. Prince Floyd.

Before you can think of what to do, Floyd’s hands are on your hips, feeling and squeezing, and he rubs himself against you, practically clinging to you out of sheer need. Though he’s wearing thin nightwear, you can feel his hard cock pressing against your ass and it takes all of your restraint not to give into your omega instincts. You know it’s useless to try to stop him; it might irritate him and you’re not looking to lose a few teeth tonight.

When he’s undone the upper half of your uniform, letting it pool at your waist while he fondles your breasts, you realize that it won’t be too terrible if you let him get it out of his system. You’re his maid, after all. It’s your job to help him, even if you know that this sort of relationship is forbidden within the palace.

Floyd would have been content to touch and nip at you in the hallway, but you’re worried someone might walk down it and catch the both of you. And then that would be the end of you and your parents, the lot of you sentenced to eternal banishment (and that’s only if the Leeches feel lenient). Floyd whines when you squirm out of his grasp, his hands chasing your waist to tug you against him again, but instead you take his hand and hastily lead him into the nearest guest bedroom. He seems to catch on right away, for a clumsy grin blossoms on his face, and he nearly throws you onto the mattress in his haste, shedding his clothes so quickly that it’s almost silly.

“P-Please be gentle,” you whisper when he’s climbed over you, too impatient to remove the rest of your uniform. Your skirt is hiked up in ruffled bunches, your panties slid down to your ankles. His scent is so strong that you feel your arousal building between your legs, slick gathering in amounts so copious you’d think you’re in heat.

Floyd leans in to nose the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Course I'll be gentle,” he mumbles, officially rut-drunk. “Shrimpy smells amazin’... Never knew ya could smell this good. Why were ya hidin’ it?”

You swallow thickly when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, and in that moment you realize this is the first time you’ve ever been intimate with anyone before. To think you’d spend your first time in the dark of a lonesome guest bedroom, with the prince as your bed partner. It feels like a dream or the plot of a whimsical romance, but you know this is neither. This is just a convenience.

“It’s... It’s against the rules.” You try not to think of anything; you try to ignore the fact that he is much bigger than your fingers.

“Fuck the rules,” he spits with an annoyed growl, and then he’s snapped his hips forward, his cock filling you much more than what you’re used to, and an unrestrained moan rips from your throat at the intensity of the stretch. Floyd exhales shakily, gripping your hips so tightly you think he might shatter you.

This is not gentle at all, you think, but that thought is quickly punched out of you when he pulls back and thrusts in, searching for a pace he finds pleasurable.

You bite into your wrist to muffle your cries, far more aware of how loud Floyd’s groans are. If anyone hears and peeks in... If the party stops and everyone sees... If the king and queen...

“Lemme hear ya,” Floyd whispers, stalling his movements to search for you, a single golden eye sparkling in the dark. “S’no fun if you’re quiet.”

“T-There’s still... The party... I don't want to get caught,” you admit through gasps, blindly feeling for his shoulders. You find them, broad and wet with sweat, and you loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer to your face. “I... I could get in trouble.”

Floyd giggles, teeth flashing. “Aw. Is Shrimpy scared?”

Yes, you think frantically. Of course I am! My entire job is on the line!

“Anyone who’s got a problem with it is gonna hafta talk to me first,” he says, syllables punctuated with rough, uneven thrusts.

You’re writhing under him, shredding his shoulders bloody. He’s set an erratic pace, fucking into you as if you’re all he knows. His lips find your cheek and then the corner of your mouth, and it isn’t long until he’s kissing you, exchanging saliva in a sloppy first kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless.

“You smell so pretty,” he’s murmuring into your skin, tipsy on your scent. “Wanna knot you so bad...”

You’ve heard that knotting feels good and that it usually helps with heats and ruts. Apparently it clears an alpha’s head, and it relieves the omega. You only know so much from listening in on conversations with the maids, so you’re not too sure what it’s meant to feel like or if it’s even as pleasant as the maids made it sound. But Floyd is a prince, your superior in every way, and you can’t possibly deny him. Besides, he’s already inside you. What’s a little more?

You moan your acquiescence and that’s all Floyd needs before he’s drawn himself back, laughter in his voice, and pushes into you so quickly that every inch is swallowed effortlessly. And then there’s something more, a larger, thicker something that stretches you wide, not yet filling you. Your nails burrow into Floyd’s skin, and he hisses a groan through grit teeth.

“S’tighter than I thought...”

“H-Hold on... It—” You wheeze, the breath squeezed out of you as his thick knot bullies its way past slick rings of unrelenting muscle. Tears gather in your eyes. “Hurts... It really hurts!”

Floyd’s shushing you, rubbing circles into your hip. He’s not particularly listening, holding you against him despite your anxious wriggling, and within just a few more determined pushes his knot pops inside. You howl through a messy orgasm, dampening the sheets with your fluids, and a torrent of filthy moans tumbles from Floyd’s lips when he finally reaches his end, cumming inside in thick spurts.

In the aftermath, the both of you are panting wildly, a mess of sweat and slick and cum. Floyd presses his forehead to yours in the dark, his breath ghosting over your lips for a mere second before he seals what little distance is left. The kiss is soft and sweet—an oath between lovers, sealed within darkness. You know you shouldn’t be so happy to reciprocate, but for the moment you allow yourself the delight. His tongue tastes every inch of your mouth, nearly choking you, and you whine into him, breathing in the scents of his pheromones and filthy sex.

He wraps the both of you in a blanket, cradling you against him while you remain connected. He’s buried his face in your neck, licking at your scent glands with happy, rumbling hums, and you almost embrace him out of pure instinct. But instead you keep your arms to yourself, resting them at your sides while Floyd douses you in his scent and takes yours in all at once. It takes some time before his knot has gone down, but by then he’s fallen asleep on top of you, his cock still nestled inside you. You lie there, staring blankly into the darkness, and it finally dawns on you that you just slept with the prince.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stir when you move out from under him, detaching yourself so carefully. His flaccid dick slides out and it has you shuddering with the need for more. You busy yourself with fixing your uniform and tucking Floyd into bed to dispel any foolish thoughts from muddling your rationality. And after you’ve finished with those tasks, you make your swift retreat—or about as swift as you can be when your legs are wobbly from both the sex and the fact that they had lost feeling with Floyd’s body lying sprawled on them. You still smell like him, and it takes two intense scrubbings with plenty of soap before your own scent returns. You wash your uniform right away, silently vowing to yourself to keep away from Floyd for the time being.

It was dark, so you’re certain he didn’t get a clear view of your face. You assure yourself with that thought as you snuggle into bed in the servants’ chambers, unable to shake Floyd’s rut-drunk words: You smell so pretty.

Floyd wakes the following morning in a very good mood, but it quickly sours when he realizes you’re not in his arms. In fact, your scent is just barely there. He sniffs the air, but his search yields nothing. And though he flits through the palace in a robe, too lazy to bother with proper dress, he can’t pick up that sweet scent.

But how could he when you’ve made doubly sure to wear your scent blockers?

He wants to find you. Floyd spends his day in a foul mood, chewing through the bones of the grilled fish he’s served at lunch, grumbling under his breath. No one comments on it because it’s so normal, but there’s more to Floyd’s behavior that the servants just can’t see. He’s anxious, drumming his fingers along the table and bouncing his leg. Jade notices it right away. He intends to ask, but Floyd doesn’t seem to be up for chit-chat and so he holds his tongue.

You can hide from Floyd all you want, but he’s going to find you.

Many weeks later, you wake with an omen. Nausea. You think it might just be the nerves. Floyd had looked at you yesterday when he was sparring with Jade, his eyes falling upon you for a brief second before you hurried along with the basket of linens you had collected from the clothesline. It’s probably the fear that he’ll find you and then your comfortable life as a maid will be uprooted that’s causing this unrest. But then the nausea persists, and as days become weeks it gets worse. You can’t seem to hold your meals down, and the foods you used to enjoy now make you sick to your stomach.

It’s the third time that day you find yourself emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet while a maid strokes your back, easing you with her soft cadence. She suggests you see a physician. You know you’ll have to, and when you finally do they confirm your suspicions. You’re pregnant. You lie through your teeth when the physician asks if you know who the father is, if the pregnancy was planned, if you have any plans for these next nine months. You’re already eight weeks along, and you dread having to admit the truth to your parents. You should have suspected something when you missed your period, but you’d been so caught up in avoiding Floyd that a missed period was the least of your worries.

If you were scared of being found by Floyd, you’re downright terrified now. You’re not sure what you should do. Will you get in trouble if you get rid of the child? Will you get in trouble if you keep it? It feels like a battle you just can’t win no matter what you do.

You hide the secret for as long as you can, relying on support from the maids who promise to you they won’t tell a soul. You work as you normally do, smiling through the fear, tidying the twins’ rooms when they’re out, artfully evading Floyd if it seems like his path might cross with yours. Aside from the nausea and the exhaustion and soreness that overwhelm you after spending each day moving around on your feet, you manage to accomplish everything that’s asked of you. You fight cravings and hormones and the omega instinct to seek out your alpha (who isn’t truly your alpha and can never be your alpha), swallowing them down as if they’re needles. It’s troublesome, but you tell yourself you can handle it. You must if you intend to live quietly with this secret.

It’s when your bump becomes more prominent and you struggle to fit into your uniform that problems start to arise. In addition to that, you’ve started producing milk and it’s become increasingly difficult to manage the bodily changes that come with pregnancy in addition to your duties as a maid.

You’ve had your fair share of rough days and pleasant days. Today seems to be the former. You haven’t even gotten through half of the day and you’re already exhausted, pausing your cleaning to take a breath. You should have taken a sick day; you just want to lie down and rest, you want to ease the ache in your heavy tits, you want a massage, you really want—

Your foot slips on the stairs and your heart drops into your stomach when you feel yourself falling forwards. The stairs spread out before you like a monster’s maw, steep and dangerous. But then someone’s seized your arm, tugging you against their chest, and you’re hit with a familiar scent. You turn slowly, as if on rusted hinges, and peer up at Prince Floyd. He looks annoyed, but his face softens when he notices your bump.

“Hey, what’re you doin’ spacin’ out on the stairs? It’s dangerous, y’know.”

“I’m sorry. I... I wasn’t...” You shake your head, tugging your arm free. “T-Thank you for catching me, Your Highness.”

Floyd peers at you, his brow furrowed. He’s eerily concentrated, as if he’s working out a particularly perplexing equation, and then he asks, “Why’re you working when you’re pregnant?” Before you can answer, he’s quick to add, “Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with it. Just... It can’t be comfortable.”

Tears gather in your eyes. You’re not sure why you’re overwhelmed with a sudden onslaught of emotions, but hearing the concern in his voice and smelling his comforting scent has you recalling the night that started all of this. Before you can stop them, the tears are falling and you’re sobbing on the stairs, wiping fruitlessly at your glossy eyes. Floyd flinches away, hands awkwardly grasping the air as he debates whether or not he should hold you.

“Hey, don’t cry... I’m not mad. I don’t care if you wanna work,” he adds hastily, offering you a smile to ease you. But it only has you crying harder, and he frowns deeply.

On the staircase that would have seriously injured you had you fallen down it, you admit the truth through blubbering sobs. And Floyd stands there, taking it all in, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

“You...” He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re Shrimpy?”

You swallow another rising cry and nod pitifully, pulling your apron up to dry your blotchy eyes. “I... I kept it because I thought that... That you’d want... That since you’re a prince...”

Your shoulders are trembling with your every breath, and you prepare yourself for the mood swing. You’re ready to be shoved down the stairs, to be kicked and yelled at, to be punished brutally. But that never comes. Instead, he pulls you into him, embracing you warmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You feel wetness on your skin next, and then you hear the softest of sniffles.

It’s a weird thing to hear Prince Floyd crying, but then you’re crying as well, the both of you clinging to each other as if you’re braving the harshness of a rainstorm. And then he laughs, a strangled sort of sound that prompts a broken giggle from you, and now the both of you are cry-laughing on the stairs. He peels the scent blockers from your neck, and your scent hits him head-on. His arms tighten around you, not enough to crush you, but enough that you can tell just how fond he’s become of you in the time that you were apart.

He wipes your tears from your eyes. “Why’d ya hide from me? I was lookin’ all over for ya. Thought I’d never see Shrimpy again.”

“I... I was scared. I can’t lose this job. If anyone found out, my parents and I would be in trouble.”

“Mmh, I guess so. Looks like you’re out of a job.”

Your heart hardens and you blink at him. “W-What? Y-Your Highness, I... I... I’m sorry. I—please reconsider. I’ll do whatever you want, so please don’t—”

Floyd’s giggles silence you, his scent filling the air so warmly. He bumps his forehead against yours, grinning that dopey smile you love so much. “How’s about you become mine instead?”

“As in... L-Like your...wife?”

“Wife Shrimpy!” he cheers, taking your hands in his and squeezing. And then he raises them up as if they’re a cheerleader’s pom-poms. “Wife Shrimpy! And baby Shrimpy’s joinin’ us, too!”

You’re smiling through your tears. You’re certain your face is a mess, but that means nothing when you throw your arms around Floyd. He laughs, his body rumbling with the joyous sound, and his arms lace around you in adoring reciprocation.

Perhaps, you catch yourself thinking, this won’t be so terrible after all.

[alwaysahiccupandastrid]

I know I’ve spoken about my issues with ‘Peter Pan and Wendy’ (2023) before, both in my initial thoughts post about the film after it released and a couple of smaller comments since, but I’ve realised something this past week after rewatching the original Disney cartoon and the 2003 non-Disney live-action while sick, and I feel I need to talk about it.

It’s about Wendy Moira Angela Darling.

While I stand by that Ever Anderson was one of the highlights of the film and that she did a great job as Wendy, the Wendy in the film is not really the Wendy seen in Barrie’s book, nor the one in the play and other films adaptations. It’s a very different character in a lot of ways, and while it’s normal for characters to differ from adaption to adaptation - especially over the course of 70+ years - I feel like the Wendy seen in the 2023 is more like Jane, Wendy’s daughter, from Disney’s Return to Neverland sequel in 2002.

Let me preface by saying that I actually love Jane in the sequel as a character - I see a lot of myself in her, and while the sequel in itself is not really my favourite, I do have some nostalgia for it because I grew up with it and it’s a cute little story. I like that Jane is actually different from Wendy in a lot of ways; she’s a lot more headstrong and more of a tomboy, and while she’s also a storyteller at times like her mother (mostly to her brother Danny), she is a lot more practical I think and seems to be opposite to Wendy in that she’s trying to grow up too fast. Wendy believes in Peter Pan and doesn’t want to grow up, meanwhile Jane believes Peter Pan to be silly childish nonsense, that she has to grow up quickly and be more adult due to the war/her father being away - Wendy says to her, “you think you’re very grown up - but you have a great deal to learn”.

Obviously the 2023 Wendy doesn’t want to grow up, that’s still the same, but in terms of personality, temperament and the way she treats her brothers after the broken mirror incident (blaming John for it), she reminds me more of Jane than Wendy. Like Jane, she also doesn’t seem to have a good time going to Neverland (at least not at first?) and she seems to take on a lot more action than Wendy did in the animated film.

Of course, it’s not the first time that we’ve seen Wendy wielding a sword and fighting pirates - the 2003 Wendy was shown to play with wooden swords and use real ones, even remarking, “who are you to call me ‘girlie’?!”. I’m not saying that Wendy can’t be a sword wielding girl and fight because she can, it’s one of the additions I love the most about the 2003 film.

The problem with the 2023 version of Wendy is not her being a main character (she has always been a main character), nor her sword fighting and being generally bad-ass - it’s the erasure of the other qualities that make her Wendy Darling.

One of Wendy’s primary character traits is her mothering nature - she is very motherly to her brothers, and when she hears that the Lost Boys don’t have a mother, she’s aghast and agrees to be their mother. The whole “Peter is father, Wendy is mother” idea is clearly a reference to how kids in the playground will play games like “mummies and daddies” - kids imitating what they see around them. It’s all a big pretend game in Neverland for fun. It’s also undeniable that Wendy pretending to be the Lost Boys’ mother is clearly reflective of her own mother, who she adores and is portrayed as the loveliest lady ever, and how she’s imitating Mrs Darling in a lot of ways during this “game” - singing to them, telling them stories, medicine etc.

Some would argue that Wendy is “forced” into being the “mother” and that while all the boys are off having fun, she’s left playing house, which I understand. But what a lot of modern audiences and filmmakers don’t understand these days is that motherhood is NOT an anti-feminist idea - there seems to be this view that portraying a girl wanting to be a mother or expressing the wish to be married/have children is some old-fashioned misogynistic notion, which is absolutely bizarre to me.

As a feminist myself, I believe that there is no clear cut definition of “womanhood” or what it means to be a strong woman with autonomy. Some women want to have careers and not have children, and that’s fine; some women want to have children, that’s fine; some women want both, and that’s fine. What matters is that it’s the woman who is deciding what she wants.

For me, Wendy has always been this remarkable and extraordinary character to look up to because she chooses to grow up - and for her, that means having her own children to tell her stories to. That’s what she wanted, that’s why she went back to England, and that’s part of her character arc, realising that by growing up she has things to look forward to.

For some reason, when 2023!Wendy thinks “happy thoughts” to make herself fly when being walked off the plank, her vision for the future that she looks forward to involves piloting automobiles that haven’t even been invented yet and then dying alone? Which… I mean, if that’s how someone wants to live then fair enough but that’s not Wendy. That’s not the Wendy Darling I grew up loving.

A lot of my issues with the 2023 version of Wendy do in fact link with other issues of the film in general: the Lost Boys including girls, for example. Like I get wanting to be inclusive, and I 100% wanted to be a Lost Girl growing up, but the Lost Boys are boys for a reason (“girls are much too clever to fall out of their prams”), and when Wendy arrives it’s a huge deal because they’ve never actually lived with girls before, and the only concept of girls they have is their memories of “mother”, which is why Wendy becomes their mother figure - because they literally don’t have any other female figures in their lives to compare her to other than the tiny scraps they remember of their mothers.

There’s also the issue of the thing prompting Wendy not wanting to grow up being changed; in the original, it’s because it’s her last night in the nursery and moving from the nursery - aka the room she has spent her entire life thus far in - to her own room is a HUGE transitional worry that a lot of kids probably go through (usually it’s in the form of moving from toddler beds to big kid beds but still). In the 2023 version, she’s being sent off to boarding school for some reason which doesn’t really make sense to me because the Darling parents a) are so poor they have to have a dog as a nursemaid and b) love their children so much that they would never do that to them. I’m not saying that being shipped off to boarding school ISN’T a worry for a young girl or a huge deal, but it isn’t one that I think necessarily fits with the story.

There’s the fact that Wendy is no longer the storyteller; in most versions, the reason Peter visits the nursery is because he likes her stories. Instead, the reason he comes to the nursery is not because he likes her stories but because he used to live in the house? And instead of bringing her to Neverland to tell stories, he comes to take Wendy away as he apparently heard her saying she didn’t want to grow up? It just doesn’t sit right with me, but maybe that’s just my opinion.

Also, for some reason, Wendy and Peter don’t actually seem to like each other at all in the 2023 version - I’m not saying there should have been romantic hints or whatever, but even just in a friendship way they really don’t seem to care in any way about each other. They just seemed rather indifferent towards each other, and it’s kind of jarring to see.

In some ways, I feel like 2023 Wendy was made a little too bad ass and on the nose super feminist: “this magic belongs to no boy!”, slapping Peter across the face (which was just…??? Why?!?!), constantly criticising Peter/Neverland, having WAY more action and heroic moments than Peter Pan himself… maybe in a different story it could have worked but for this one, it came across forced at times, like they were intentionally trying to show “look! Look how badass she is! She can fight off grown men all by herself! She doesn’t need a boy to help her! She can do everything by herself!”

This is why I feel like the 2003 version of Wendy is the best one (so far): while they modernised her slightly by making her sword fight and express an ambition to write novels about her adventures, she was still a storyteller and motherly figure to the Lost Boys/her brothers. For me as a child, seeing Wendy be the storyteller and her journey of acceptance about having the grow up was really important to me because I could completely relate to it.

Of course, I recognize I’m very biased because this is the one I grew up with (along with the animated Wendy of course) so I’d be interested to hear other people’s thoughts!

[cluescorner]

I have been unable to get the idea of baby Kaeya sneaking off to Sumeru without telling anyone out of my head

Baby Kaeya: I have successfully snuck into Sumeru in a merchant convoy. I may have left without saying goodbye, but I’m sure the Ragnvindrs will not mind. After all, surely they don’t see me as their actual family. They might raise a fuss and be in agony if Diluc were to disappear, but not for me. 

Meanwhile......

Crepus, on his 8th bottle: How on earth have I managed to lose an entire child?? Did he get kidnapped? Did he run away? Is he alive? Is he safe? I’m going to have a breakdown holy shit. I have failed as a father. Elzer, have the knights gotten back about their search of the area? Or the private squad I hired? 

Elzer: I’m afraid they have found nothing...but look on the bright side! At least we haven’t lost Diluc...

Adeline, literally physically restraining Diluc to stop him from running off to search for Kaeya: Yet. We have not lost Diluc YET. 

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

Merchant guy: Hey, uh, guys? 

Merchant lady: Yeah? 

Merchant guy: Can somebody read this handwriting? I think whoever wrote this must have been in a hurry or something. And are those...tear stains? 

Merchant lady: Sure...hm looks like the boss’s son is missing....

Merchant guy: Huh. Well we guarded the goods pretty well but let’s check just to make sure. 

Merchant lady: *Opens up the goods to find Kaeya wedged between 2 crates* Oh we’re so fired. 

Kaeya: In your defense, it’s only been a few days. One time I hid from...something for a week. And it was far more perceptive than you are, so you can hardly be blamed for missing me for only a few days. It was a fun challenge, but I was very hungry afterwards. By the way, do you have some water? I did not want to risk revealing myself, so I have not moved from this spot since we left. 

Merchant guy: We’re not fired...we’re dead. 

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

Crepus, sprinting to Sumeru: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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

Merchant guy: So...while we wait for your dad, why did you come here anyways? I’m sure we could do something fun. 

Kaeya: Hmmm, no. You should not look into why I came here. That would be bad, for me and for you. 

Merchant lady, whispering to merchant guy: Hey, um, what the fuck does that mean?

Merchant guy, whispering to merchant lady: The boss said his new kid was kinda odd, but this wasn’t what I was expecting. 

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

Crepus: KAEYA! OH THANK GOODNESS YOU ARE OK! 

Kaeya: Hello Master Crepus. I hope I didn’t cause too much-

Crepus: WHY ON TEYVAT WOULD YOU JUST RUN AWAY? DID YOU JUST WANT TO GO TO SUMERU TO SEE THE RAINFORESTS OR SOMETHING?

Kaeya: ...Sure. I read about it in a book and thought it looked cool. I wanted to see it, and so I left. 

Crepus: *sigh* Kaeya, next time you want to take a vacation somewhere, please just tell us. You ARE grounded for a month since you broke a very big rule, but afterwards I’ll see about arranging a trip to Sumeru for us. 

Kaeya: Crossing Teyvat to find me, grounding me, and arranging trips around my preferences? Why are you treating me so similarly to how you treat Diluc? 

Crepus: Because you are both my sons. Why on earth would I treat you any differently? 

Kaeya, forming the first healthy relationship with an adult in his entire life and realizing that he has grown attached to the very family he was left to spy on then eventually betray: Oh. This...I feel weird. Bad-weird and good-weird. 

Crepus: Well, you probably feel weird because you were LODGED BETWEEN TWO CRATES FOR 4 DAYS STRAIGHT? You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, I swear. Now we’re going back to Mondstadt right now, and you’re grounded starting the day after we get back. I highly doubt Adelinde and Diluc will be able to restrain themselves from fawning over you, they’ve been a mess. 

Kaeya, realizing that now only has he grown attached to his new family, but they have grown incredibly attached to him: Oh...oh no. 

[pronounmelon]

How Leasebound suffers under the ablebodied gaze

Hiiiii I’m on my bullshit again 😘❤️

today we are going to talk about how Leasebound’s disability rep is kind of mid

we all know how I feel about the special ed teacher panel

and BONUS: this is Sunny’s insert. Sunny has never worked with disabled kids. RUSTY has never worked with disabled kids, and neither are disabled to my knowledge. I am disabled AND have worked with disabled kids. I still think that panel is complete bullshit, with the lack of knowledge on the topic showing through in the implication that there is ever an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others that you need to restrain a disabled child even if my old post may have admittedly overreacted. There is not. There is never an instance outside of imminent harm to yourself or others. If your special education facility has told you that restraint is an option at all when a kid hugs you too long, get a new fucking job 😭 the next alternative to a “let me go” or a collapse or drop move you weren’t taught somehow is never to “hm. If I don’t go to self defense training my only other option is to restrain them”

anyway to the guys I wanna talk about here

now let’s list off disabled characters

Shanzay (it’s not spelled Shanzey in any language Rusty should probably correct that)

Rocky

Uhhhhhhh

Ginger is most definitely disabled given the knee injury but that was most definitely added to give her a stereotypical middle aged “man” backstory of wanting to play professional football and then getting injured and it doesn’t even really come up on panel. Plus the trans women in the comic are. Well. We all know 😭😭

and I am of the personal opinion that Brick has some form of dwarfism or potentially Down syndrome due to how Rusty draws them (height, proportions, and facial features) but this was not done intentionally by Rusty and seems to have mostly been an attempt to make them look “clownish” which is a whole other set of issues. Like I thought Parniya was supposed to teach your grown adult fanbase not to make fun of people for their height or weight but your commentors say otherwise when it comes to Brick sooooo

anyway the only ones I can definitively say are disabled are Shanzay and Rocky

so so far the only 2 characters who are definitively disabled both got it from some big showey traumatic event, not looking good so far seeing as that’s a pretty common stereotype…

Shanzay has partial blindness, seemingly caused by blunt force trauma

Now I can’t believe I have to say this but…

regardless of how you are drawing this REALLY does not communicate a blunt force eye injury

fun fact: I’m not going to show a picture because HOLY SHIT the pictures are horrible but a healed blunt force eye injury (one that WOULD cause permanent full blindness in the eye) usually includes

partially or fully detached retina

reddish sclera for obvious reasons, it gets better overtime but it rarely fully goes away

usually rather than a perfectly vertical scar with stitches there is a bruise or a scar that isn’t. Yk. Perfectly vertical over the whole eye. Often a scar would be something like a deeper one over the eyelid, or uneven tiny scar bits around the eye. While we don’t see what Chris does to Shanzay exactly, if he hit her with what he had at the moment (his fist), she more than likely got a hugeass bruise with no permanent scar outside the eye, maybe a tear in the eyelid itself if we give Chris the disbenefit of the doubt that his single fist is that strong, or that he got multiple hits in. I mean he sells drugs or whatever so maybe??? I’m gonna be for real I doubt this guy’s mary sue ass strength he looks under half my dad’s weight

Bonus that shit is probably HORRIFIC if the injury wasn’t super bad then because it doesn’t seem like she was taken to the doctors

Better ways to stylize this sort of injury on Shez:

partially detached retina, rough healing

Retina removed surgically due to extreme injury or infection after injury, probably healed better due to medical intervention. Would likely wear an eye cap or glass eye cover to protect the eye

Traumatic cataract (what I think Rusty was going for??). Despite all the models you’ve probably seen or whatever the fuck a traumatic cataract is rarely completely perfect over the eye, and often the original eye color is slightly visible underneath. I specifically made this one partial, giving an easily stylizable but accurate look.

“why is this a problem?? Other media does this all the time”

yeah and I kinda hate it 😭😭 it’s one thing if all your characters have dot eyes, like just put an x there BOOM eye disability communicated. Also, Shez is never shown to have the same or similar disability needs to most people who are partially blind or blind in one eye. The large majority of people with full blindness in one eye cannot drive very easily, first of all. One, in most countries you need to pass a medical test. Also, if Shez’s injury is in fact a traumatic cataract, driving is either an incredibly difficult/stressful task, or just straight up unsafe, seeing as the areas of an eye a cataract falls over only allow for very limited vision.

Like bestie you CANNOT be looking back at Jaden like that regardless of potentially training yourself to drive?? Which even then you’re apparently driving at 3am or so??? It’s DARK AS HELL at 3am fuck off there’s no way

now I’m not partially blind or blind myself so people can absolutely correct me on this (blind people, not people with a totally super real blind cousin or something, I’m not centering ablebodied people here)

Shez seemingly has no trauma from her injury specifically. Only her mother is affected by it. Honestly that’s a lot of the Chris plot line; Shez only wants to save the people around her and that’s apparently good cause “power fantasy” like??? I thought this was supposed to be a comic about realistic women experiences or whatever the fuck.

Oh yeah and why is this panel kind of implying that Shez got her injury on the job when she got it from Chris 😭😭 I guess the rest fits but “this is a rough job” with the weird closeup of her eye 😭😭 bitch what does that MEAN Chris did not injure you at Yonique

okay next one

I have BEEF with this woman ‼️‼️‼️

Whoever decided they weren’t gonna at least teach Rocky sign language is a fucking idiot. Why is she communicating with the same *nod* *nod* she did when her muteness was new at 22 years old. Someone teach Rocky sign language!! ”you can’t expect rusty to learn accurate sign language just for Rocky” then I can’t expect her to respectfully write a mute character without falling into dumbass stereotypes

I do understand why Rocky wouldn’t have an AAC device… I mean, this is 5 (now 6 with Parniya!!) people living in one tiny living space in a city that has a huge classism problem, it’d be very difficult to get their hands on something like that. But. A text to speech tablet?? Like just an iPad?? Maybe??? There’s also AAC-like apps for both Samsung and Android. Rusty invents shit that doesn’t exist all the time!! (Like a plain white simultaneously loose and tight around the boobs turtleneck with plain black text that says yaoi. Looking at Kai) she could just invent an AAC app for Rocky to use that functions exactly like the expensive ones but free and on a standard off brand tablet!! PLEASE it’s giving Teardrop bfb but worse than that because Teardrop was 1. Originally written by children on YouTube 2. Eventually DID get means of autonomy and communication and most people understand and respect her. Rocky only gets nods. How is she getting a job with nods??? Interviews are unfortunately way more complicated than yes or no questions.

now my final issue, applying to both Rocky and Shanzay, which I briefly hinted to earlier

Their disabilities are BOTH from big life altering injuries or PTSD. Which can happen!! That’s fine, but it’s also the most stereotypical form of these disabilities. It’s the one in media most palatable to ablebodied people. Like the little disabled representation coming in the form of wheelchair users who cannot walk at all (often paralysis) or supergeniuses if it’s caused by anything else, or people who so tragically lost an arm, or an eye, or their hearing, or sight in a war, or a fight, or whatever, a mute person who does not communicate in any of the numerous ways that mute people do because the ablebodied writer does not believe they can. Like, you know that dialects of sign language have formed for mute or deaf kids from observation, right?? Even if Meriam didn’t teach her fucking kid to sign or get her in a learning environment where she could learn to, Rocky most definitely knows more than nod and shake, ESPECIALLY as a mute adult.

all the disabled characters are written in the most palatable way they can be to an ablebodied audience, by an ablebodied writer.

Easy fix: GET SENSITIVITY READERS OR DO PROPER RESEARCH BEFORE WRITING SOMETHING YOUVE NEVER TOUCHED JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

[im-out-of-it]

I just have some thoughts since I’ve watched the first three episodes now. some things I’m glad the show did and also the things that irritated the fuck out of me so let’s go 👏🏼

1. aging the characters up. I think this is smart to do and there’s more you can do with the rest of them if they’re in their early twenties instead of being teenagers. sorry not sorry but I’m not interested in seeing teenagers being chased by grown adults

2. Clary is still beyond annoying. I know she’s traumatized by losing her mom and not understanding this new world but literally coming in “I don’t care about the clave, about your rules, I just want to find my mom.” yeah ok we get that but there are still rules that need to be followed. you’re out here almost getting people killed and it’s all in the name of your mom. and I’m not saying the clave is trustworthy because they’re massive dicks but you can’t go around running and doing whatever you want lmao

3. please give Alec a raise or a year vacation. the amount of shit he deals with having to be jaces parabatai is too much. honestly, Alec deserves better. Jace takes advantage of Alec and I would have loved to see Alec have another parabatai, one that cares for him. I know you can only have one BUT CUT THE FUCKING CORD PLEASE

4. Magnus is fucking perfection

5. Izzy is perfection too 🔥 I do not blame Simon losing his tongue over her. my bisexual mind was like OOOOO ALEC NO MAGNUS NO IZZY NO RAPHAEL NO MAIA!!!!!!! NO ALL OF THEM

6. Clary and Jace are very cringe and I’m not sure if that’s on the acting or the writing but it makes it hard to believe they’re “in love.” I felt more connection with Alec and Magnus meeting for a second than I did with jace and clary in three episodes. even Alec and jace have a bit more chemistry than he does with clary. and that is something I DO NOT ship

Jace: I would die for you

Clary: but jace we just met

Jace: I don’t care if I throw all my friends and family away clary. we’re destined to be together

7. superb acting from Matthew Daddario. he’s absolutely wonderful and he really captured Alec’s angst in my opinion. you can see why he’s on guard not only because he likes jace (ew my man Alec WHY) and because he’s worried about the safety of his people. I feel like Matt captures the emotion without saying a thing so well. as does Harry. I think they’re both great at this

8. “This would be bad for clary.”- (talking about the cup and valentine) Simon “it would be bad for all of us”-Izzy. of course in Simon and clary world, everything is all about clary. I get simon is worried about his bff but this affects EVERYONE

9. if Simon was my bff and someone as jace talked to my friend that way, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT. she doesn’t really say much, she’s all like “we’re a package deal.” honestly clary and jace belong together because they both take advantage of their friends. they’re both so self centered so let them run away as far as possible together

10. Alec is big sad now but you will have better, just you wait. also want to add, I enjoy season one for the build up Alec and Magnus but man do I hate Alec pinning after jace 🤢 but if there isn’t any incest, it’s not a proper CC story

11. Im just here for the Malec content. stuff that show did well: Alec and Izzy’s sibling relationship. I love these two so much. Clary actually being nice to izzy and being her friend, and not being mean to her cause she’s jealous. Magnus’s whole attire. I love this bi king so much. I love magnus, I love his sass, his makeup, his clothes. I LOVE HIM. I wish they would’ve changed his hair and makeup more in the last two seasons. kinda feel like they thought oh he has mascara on, that’s good enough. that pink hair is truly one of my favorite Magnus looks.

12. last thing to add that I like what the show did. I love that Alec actually knows how to fight. it never made sense in the books that he’s never killed a demon, especially since he’s a Lightwood. never made sense to me. I’m glad they allowed in the show for Alec to actually be able to fight 🏹

that is all for now until I watch actually one of the best episodes of season one. Magnus and Alec meeting 🥰