#go forth lexi and cause ruin

[escapedaudios]

In my editing cave putting together Lexi's next scene. God I love that evil devil woman oh hohoho I'm always cackling when I edit her scenes she's so bombastically horrible hahaha she's my favorite antagonist I've ever created.

[sillywillylils]

i beta read this and now it’s time to read the full thing. i am expecting my heart shattered and broken and ripped out of me but i am also hoping for happiness…. let’s get into it

“GRIEF DOESN’T END, BUT IT CHANGES SHAPE OVER TIME.” this was a beautiful opener, drop the bar

“Yet, the second the door of the church opens, and you see Jeon Wonwoo enter, you know it’ll be impossible to continue staying under the radar.” this is when i would’ve just walked up and left and never look back

“‘Didn’t think you were the drinking type’ Wonwoo finally pipes up” this is where i would’ve just LOST IT and walk out again

“‘But, it’ll be during dinner tomorrow night. My place?’” WOAHHHHHHHHHH we getting right into it

“On the drive home, as you replay his smile in your mind’s eye” his smile will have my heart i fear

“Yet. He says the word with such relaxation, like it’s inevitable you will discover more information about him” i like where this is going

“The unspoken strings between you snap one by one with every movement of his hand, slowly reaching higher until his hand cups your face. His thumb runs over your jaw bone.” a kiss is going to happen a kiss is going to happen a kiss is going to happen

“You clutch his wrist with your hand, but you make no move to turn and walk away.” okay nevermind i’m just going to backflip into the universe i guess

“But he says it without facades, each vowel and consonant holding the undercurrents of his desires.” and what if i start ugly crying to experience something like this

“You don’t expect Wonwoo to be staring right at you when you turn your attention back to their meeting.” okay so just take my heart already

“7 PM showing of Spider-Man Saturday. You in? X” SCREAMS CRIES SOBS

the spiderman mentions and details is reminding me of vamp radio- ANYWAYS this is actually so nice cause i love the spiderman movies

“Wonwoo gives up the pretenses and yanks you into his arms. He plants a hand across your hair and squeezes you in his hold, still tender despite the vice grip he has you in. The tightness of his hug shakes something loose in you, and you barely recognize you’re crying until Wonwoo cradles you closer and shushes you, even as the rain beats down on you both. “I’m here,” he promises.” okay so i am ugly crying right now like oh my, this really struck something within in me

“but the second you press your lips to his in that brick alleyway, you don’t regret it. He tastes like salvation, of unbreakable promises. It could either heal or ruin you, but you don’t mind if it’s a little of both.” YAY KISS SCENE

“You unclasp your bralette from your back, letting the wet garment plop to the floor. ‘Touch me, please’” WOAH WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO?!?! (i’m sat)

“He takes his fingers from your center and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he chuckles into your throat. ‘Needy little thing, aren’t you?’” currently rocking back and forth because what the heck. WHAT THE HECK. i’m not sane for this

“He throws the latex away before nestling back into the bedsheets with you. His arms wrap around you” a hug from him will actually cleanse me so badly

i got really in my feels after this scene and think i have to talk about it.

the whole breakdown of mc in the car really got me badly, that everything around her faded to nothing while she remained the center of the the world she only knew.

i love how wonwoo still continued to be there for her REGARDLESS of her suddenly ghosting him after getting together that night. it shows the sheer dedication and passion he has and it really warmed my heart.

it shows from time and time again that no matter how hard mc tried to push him away, he still stayed for her and i think that’s completely beautiful. especially when she confessed at the end about why she was in the support group in the first place.

lexi this fic really tugged at my heartstrings and i started tearing up at it, this was so good like i know it took me a while to read it but my was it beautiful. everything about it really got me and touched upon my emotions.

as always thank you so much for creating and working hard on this. it is truly amazing and i know the rest of your works are wonderful and i cannot be able to read the rest of them!!!

much love to you- l.p

CHEMTRAILS | 전원우

⟢ PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 11K ⟢ GENRE: angst, smut, sprinkles of fluff ⟢ TAGS: heavy themes of grief/death including a mentioned drunk driving incident (do not tread lightly if these topics are difficult for you to read), minor character death (including a child, but it is all offscreen), coworkers au, pet names (baby, doll, etc), light breast play, fingering, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms. LINK TO FIC PLAYLIST -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an incredibly personal story for me, as I have suffered parental loss and it is one of the hardest things I've gone through, but in a way, writing it out has helped heal a small part of me, so I am happy to share this with you all. Bless to my friends beta-ing this for me—Allie (@lovetaroandtaemin), Raven (@shadowkoo), Lily (@prkhaven), Sulkie (@innocygnet), and Tiya (@gyubakeries), and everyone else who read snippets of this before it became what it is now. The fic's title inspo is from a song by Lizzy Mcalpine!

GRIEF DOESN’T END, BUT IT CHANGES SHAPE OVER TIME.

The white text over the image of a pastel sunrise initially made you gag when you stepped into the room, the church’s banner haphazardly put up to prepare for today’s session. Now, it’s all your brain can focus on as the surrounding attendees share their stories. The initial greetings stopped thirty minutes ago, with many at the waterworks now to your secondhand chagrin. Others nod and provide supportive commentary, but you don’t have it in you, silence the only usable response. A few people you recognize from the first few weeks surround you; others are brand new, red-faced as they meander through the reasons for their attendance. 

The four walls reek of silent regret and raw sadness, the sniffles and coughs of those trying to hide their pain sticking to the air like heat on a summer day. You’d prefer it to be a hotter season, if only to focus on something else but the ridiculous text looming over you. But the winter chill that accompanies the gloomy atmosphere is another unpleasant reminder of the dangers of wishful thinking.

You could say all the stories and puffy expressions don’t hit a nerve somewhere deep inside of you, but then you’d be a liar. As you’ve learned in the past year, though, you’re getting very good at hiding and denying.

 It’s been forty-five minutes of passive listening on your end, but your attention remains on the chalky slopes of text against the yellow sun disappearing into the mountain formation.

“It’s been six months, and I still don’t know what to do. When I think I’ve gotten over one stage, I’m reminded of something that sets me back.” One attendee you’ve known from the start, Suzy, continues on while staring into the coffee cup in her hands. She’s typically meek in tone, solemn while her hands stay in her thick coat as she recalls the details of her twin sister’s battle with leukemia. But today, there’s a new aura about her, something clipped and biting that is unique to see in this place.

Maybe she’s on the stage of anger this week.

“You know I’ve said healing isn’t linear, Suzy,” Seungcheol, the director of the group, says in a supportive tone.

“I get that, but can I get a break from feeling more than one stage at once? For the love of God.” She blanches immediately and mutters out an apology, making you chuckle to yourself.

You used to think that the phenomenon was a myth, a way for people to rationalize their pain by separating all of it into clear, definable chunks. While you’re now well acquainted with each piece of grief, they all remain a mystery in your eyes. You’re unsure who to ask for the right answers, and you’re not opening your mouth now to humor the group with questions.

The plan has always been the same: attend each session like you’re supposed to, get your slip signed off, and go home. That was the routine for the past two weeks, nothing more to add or subtract. When people addressed you, you weren't unfriendly, but you didn't offer any information. These things considered, you’re adamant about keeping with tradition for the remaining six meetings, including this one.

Yet, the second the door of the church opens, and you see Jeon Wonwoo enter, you know it’ll be impossible to continue staying under the radar.

Wonwoo apologizes profusely as Seungcheol pulls up a chair for the newcomer. Wonwoo’s wearing a scarf that covers a substantial amount of his face, but you’d recognize his wire-frame glasses and that black mop of hair anywhere. He may barely be an acquaintance, but he’s not terrible to look at. “My car was giving me trouble this morning, so—”

“No problem, man,” Seungcheol cuts him off. “Nobody’s late here. You’re always arriving somewhere at the moment you’re meant to, I always say.”

You roll your eyes and tuck your arms tighter into your chest. The older guy always has a plethora of slogans for personal growth up his sleeve. You reckon he probably made the fucking sign with the awful font and stereotypically hopeful photography? It’s anyone’s guess, but you have a good one.

Some hair falls into your face just as Wonwoo sits across from you in the large circle. You think that just might save you from being seen, but recognition crosses his face out of the corner of your eye, and you curse under your breath, knowing you’re fucked.

Jeon Wonwoo, from the legal team at the publishing house you both work for, sees you, the quiet girl from the marketing department. He must have some idea why, given his department’s close relationship with your higher-ups, and that makes your intestines twist in a way akin to food poisoning. You think it may be the perfect time for the world to split open under your feet and take you away, but that’s only a dreamer’s level of luck.

“So, Wonwoo, you’re a newcomer, as we can see. What brings you to the group?”

Wonwoo stutters on an explanation, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. “I think the lady before me was in the middle of her story, but maybe I can share after.”

Seungcheol winks in acknowledgement and goes back to Suzy, continuing where they left off in their discussion. “So, for the stages…”

You feel the heat of Wonwoo’s gaze from across the circle. He’s probably trying to decipher just exactly what led you to this place. Not the church, per se, but the situation at hand. Tired of the burn of his irises on you, you turn your stare on him. His eyes look small under the guise of his glasses, but they enlarge considerably when you make it known you’ve caught him ogling. With your mouth in a thin line but your eyebrows quirked up, you send him a silent dare to continue staring. To your pleasure, he pales and turns away, looking in the same direction as everyone else as Suzy continues on with her rant.

Any secondhand inkling you had to share with the group before the end of the program dies with the turn of Wonwoo’s head, and you prefer it that way. His presence gives you an excuse to not break from routine. Not like you were going to, anyway.

“He was there?” Wooyoung ruffles his hair in secondhand embarrassment, the sound of his nervous expel of breath drowned out by the music in the bar. The local hotspot was a mere five blocks away from your work, and it rarely became overcrowded before you guys had the chance to leave, so coming around now and then with your best friend was still doable, even under your circumstances. It was hard to say no to Wooyoung when he gave you such toothy grins and pleading words. “You barely come out anymore, at least try to spend some time with me for a bit? It’ll be good for you.”

He had to be the only person left you could stomach being around, and the last man on the planet who could handle your latest less than sunny disposition.

Wooyoung immediately goes back to making his shot for the solid blue ball close to the top left-hand pocket when you shoot him a glare that even he can’t joke himself out of. “You think he’ll say anything?” he asks as he moves his pool stick back and forth, testing the waters of the angle he’s chosen to hit the cue ball from.

“I hope not.” You groan and knock your head against your pool stick. Replaying yesterday afternoon in your head, you barely could get through the workday filled with pitch proposals and strategy meetings. You couldn’t help but wonder if Wonwoo was lurking around every corner of the building, waiting to discuss how he saw you and tease you for something not meant for teasing. He didn’t seem like the type to do so, but you expect less and less from the male population with every passing day. “He probably already knows about what happened anyway.”

Wooyoung hits the ball, but it veers a little too far for the shot to be completed. He swears, an audible “fuck me” rolling off of his tongue. You make haste going for the striped orange ball, and with no seconds to spare, you hit it into the center right cup. You land another two before your best friend has a chance again, but it doesn't matter. All that’s left for you to shoot in is the eight ball.

“One day I’ll manage to get close to beating you.”

“The night’s still young,” you respond before chugging down what’s left of your bottle of soju. The alcohol goes down your throat smoothly, but it doesn’t soothe the itch that still sits under your skin. With another few drinks, and you teetering on the line between buzzing and full-blown drunk, you think you’ll be able to forget the feeling exists.

That sting only intensifies when you see a handful of guys from the legal team walk in, Vernon and Jihoon trailing behind Wonwoo’s towering form. Their presence causes you to miss the eight ball entirely, the cue ball slowly rolling towards a pocket until it falls in.

“Goddamnit, man,” you curse. You reach for your drink, but you curse again when the empty bottle touches your lips.

Before Wooyoung can ask, he turns his head to see the men going up to the bartender and gnaws at his lip. “Maybe they won’t notice us?”

“That’s as likely as you getting a girlfriend,” you tease. You pull a couple of dollar bills out of your pocket and set your pool stick down when you see the men edging away from the bar-top. It may be a risk when they’re still so close by, but your dry mouth tells you to take the chance. “I’m gonna get us another round.”

You place your hands firmly on the shining wood of the bar, the gloss of it contrasting with the rough calluses and paper cuts across your hands. A few fingers beckon the bartender over with a new set of soju bottles. The green glass that holds the liquid refracts against the overhead lights. It’s so bright, you don’t notice the figure whose shadow mars their outlines.

“Didn’t think you were the drinking type,” Wonwoo finally pipes up. Where his voice yesterday was quick and bashful, and his typical tone at work is clinical to the letter, the cadence of it now is warm, like a smooth pool of honey.

His arm brushes yours as he places a few bucks of his own on the bar for the bartender to take. The contact raises gooseflesh across the space where his skin met yours for the briefest of moments. It sends a new itch up your spine, one that’s barely familiar and on the cusp of foreign. You lie to yourself with careful precision, swearing in hushed tones inside your brain that it doesn’t ignite a long, burnt-out flame somewhere inside of you, and you almost believe it.

Almost.

“I also didn’t used to go to work-mandated support groups, but here we are.” You aim your bottle in his direction with the slightest of tips, a sarcastic salute that doesn’t make your secret any easier to address out loud. You sip gingerly, the pull of your lips from the bottle long and slow, but the alcohol holds no solution for your bitter tongue or sick stomach.

You know this, and you drink anyway. It’s better than the alternative.

Wonwoo’s the one who takes the bottle from your mouth. A few dribbles of soju trickle down your chin, but before you can snatch it back, he says, “I’m not going to say anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried to begin with.”

He nods with a close-lipped smirk, in no way believing your glib. The bartender brings three gin and tonics for Wonwoo’s troupe, and you can’t hold back the giggle that erupts from deep in your throat. “Typical.”

“What? G and Ts are too good for you, miss marketing expert?” Vernon and Jihoon call their coworker with a loud shout of his name when they see their drinks are ready, but Wonwoo throws them an expression that shuts the younger men up.

“Who said I was an expert? That’s Soobin’s role, anyway.” You tut your head in a random direction. You have nothing to prove to Wonwoo, but you take pride in your job being higher than one of meager content creation. He chuckles, and the sound tickles your ears in a way you push down. “I’m a trend analyst.”

“Oh, really? Is that why you don’t speak during the meetings? You’ve already predicted that sharing is a waste of time?”

You sober immediately at his questions. You grip the neck of the soju bottle tighter as you try composing an answer, anger prickling the base of your neck. What can you say that gives nothing away and keeps with the pre-set banter, all while you remain even-keeled? You land on, “It’s not like that,” and make your move to walk away, bored with the conversation now.

Wooyoung looks over at you like you’re crazy, and you know the thoughts immediately swirling in your best friend’s head. You haven’t flirted with a man in probably half a decade, at least, but if the nerd isn’t getting any, the very least you could do is entertain some sort of romantic attention for the two of you.

Wonwoo grabs your arm softly, his fingers setting the same fire the contact from before did, but it holds an entirely new scope and set of stakes. “Humor me. What’s it like, then?” His voice is featherlight, gentle in its prodding. He holds no judgement, his earlier words only teasing but clearly striking a nerve in you he’s trying to amend with his new tone.

You avoid his gaze, finally landing back on the pool table where Wooyoung awaits. The kernel of an idea pops up alongside your smile. “Play me for it.”

“What?” Wonwoo chuckles, perplexed. You point towards the table with your index finger, and Wooyoung immediately turns his head, attempting to hide his spying to no avail.

“You win, I’ll tell you why I’m in that group.” Your smirk grows, the cheshire cat smile that now adorns your face growing with every word. “I win, you tell me what you were doing there yesterday in the first place.”

You put a hand between your incredibly close bodies, a fact you did not realize until you offered some ante for Wonwoo to chew on, and he takes the bait like you expected him to. “Deal.”

He shakes your hand firmly. It’s another set of touches that warms you to the bone in a way liquor never has before. You shuck that information to the side as you walk to the pool table with Wonwoo hot on your heels. He stops to deliver the drinks to his awaiting team, but he makes it to you with a few quick strides.

“Want me to break, or do you need to prove you can play first?” you ask with the same tantalizing smile you wagered him with.

He takes a hefty sip of his tonic and licks his bottom lip to catch the alcohol that threatens to spill over. “By all means.”

If only he knew how stupid it was to let the lady go first this time.

Wonwoo stares down into the pocket the eight-ball just flew into. While he’s mystified how you managed to just destroy his record and prove him wrong in a matter of ten minutes and three plays, you smirk openly. It always used to bug ex-boyfriends and situationships when you were better at a more masculine task or hobby than they were, but you always flicked their comments back with a middle finger and a nonplussed demeanor. It’s a delightful change of pace for someone as attractive and confident as Wonwoo to be mystified by your capabilities, even at the expense of his pride.

“She beats me all the time, man. Don’t sweat it.” Wooyoung tries to walk up and rustle your newly defeated opponent on the shoulder. He thinks better of it when Wonwoo gives him the same glare you threw at the younger guy a short time ago.

Your best friend offers to grab you another drink as you laugh, but you shake your head. “Gotta head home. Carat can’t feed herself.”

Wonwoo gives you a quizzical expression as Wooyoung leaves, and you respond with, “My fish. Very adamant about her feeding schedule.”

He flashes a high-wattage grin, and the feelings he’s stirred in you tonight try to scratch their way back to the surface, but you repress them once again. It means nothing, anyway. You won’t act on it, and the guy is probably ready to hightail it back to his friends by now.

He offers to walk you out, and all your preconceived notions upend themselves into the air. Wooyoung pulls you by the shoulder when you say goodbye and whispers, “If you miss out on that guy now, you’re even more ridiculous than I thought. And I’ve seen you suck your thumb while you sleep, remember that.”

When you make it to the driver’s side door, you remember it’s time to collect your payment. Now or never. “So, gonna tell me why you were in the group yesterday? Or will you chicken out with the best two out of three rounds?”

“Easy, I’ll tell you,” he says, concealing a grin until his next words come out. “But, it’ll be during dinner tomorrow night. My place?”

You gulp down heavy air, again recognizing the clear proximity of your chest to his. You can see the slow rise and fall of his upper body, his heart steady but clearly put on edge. He’s patient but barely, waiting for you to either accept the invitation or decline with bated breath.

“Why?”

You don’t mean for the word to come out the way it does, one-fourth hopeful and the remaining three-fourths speculative. It’s not like you’re unappealing under normal circumstances, but the girl who would’ve jumped at the opportunity for a date with a cute guy is not who’s standing in front of Wonwoo right now. You want to be her, trade your place for hers to make the smile on his face brighten, but you’re unsure how to get her back, and if there’s any point.

“Because I owe you, don’t I?” You shrug your arms, not saying no but not giving him confirmation either. “And you’re not the type to not collect when you’re owed something.”

“What makes you think that?” Some of your fire returns as you cross your arms, body posture exemplifying your intrigue.

“Because you wouldn’t have bet against me knowing you’d win if you were.”

There’s no witty remark or sarcastic comeback that comes to mind. He so easily saw through you, it scares you into saying yes right there. But, even while ruminating for a moment, you search for reasons to deny him of your company, and you find none. If tonight wasn’t so bad, what’s one more without expectations?

“Sure,” you finally say, and he gives you the grin you were looking for that could go toe to toe with any city streetlight. That mesmerizing, gum-revealing grin that makes a part of your knees weak.

You knew he was nice to look at from faraway in the secrecy of your cubicle, but it’s at a new level now, one that’s unquellable.

On the drive home, as you replay his smile in your mind’s eye, you know without a doubt that the buzz in your veins isn’t just because of the soju still lingering in your bloodstream.

It’s not, under any circumstances, a date. 

You parrot the words as you move around your bedroom, the clock on your dresser practically screaming at you to leave while the day is young. Work ended an hour ago, and you’re still stumbling on what to do about your attire.

No way is this a date. I’ve been on them before, I know it when I see it.

The recesses of your mind try to commit every sentence to memory as you put on lipstick, curl your hair, and throw an old dress under a denim jacket. It’s habitual to look nice for a new person, you remind yourself. It’s not like Wonwoo won’t welcome you into his home if you’re wearing a greasy t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but you digress. You’re simply collecting on your payment, and if he takes it any other way, that’s his problem to deal with.

The ride to his apartment is tense, to say the least. A million thoughts run through your head while you grip the steering wheel tight during every turn and stop through the city to his downtown complex. You try to make light of the building that greets you, thinking about how much legal counsel must make to afford such swanky living spaces, but it doesn’t help. Your hands tremble, no matter how forcefully you clench your fists to stop the shaking.

He’s Wonwoo, a guy who has an interest in seeing you outside of a professional setting, and you’re you, half emotionally composed on your very best day as of late. You have some basis for being nervous, no matter what one would call the meeting arranged between you two today.

He called it dinner, so you’ll start there.

Greeting you at your door in a black V-neck and gray jeans, he looks too clean for someone who must’ve been lounging around before you arrived. “You look nice. Got a hot date or something?” He bites his lip in satisfaction when you huff out a breath of air, blowing off his harmless dig.

“I’m here for the information I won last night. And the plate of food you promised me.”

He beckons you inside with a smile and an arm pointed inside, and you walk through the threshold with all the knots in your stomach, reminding you of their presence with every step.

Wonwoo’s living space appears to be stereotypical for a guy in his mid-twenties. The apartment’s all dark wood and grey wallpaper, from his industrial bar table to the kitchen marble, but he’s made it his in his own way. Some action figures line a bookshelf near the kitchen, and a guitar sits on its stand in the corner of the entertainment center dominating the living room. But you glean little pieces of information about him from the tchotchkes that surround you. The black cat plushie that sits on the sofa, the NASA magazines he must have a subscription for, and the sounds of jazz playing low on the TV all indicate the quiet eccentricities of his personality.

He’s a secretively unique guy on the page and in person, and you admire it. Some part of it scares you, how easily you’ve grown accustomed to him in a few short meetings, but that’s not anything to mull over right now.

“I was just fixing the pasta when you showed up. You can sit anywhere.” He moves his head in either direction of the couch or the table, but you saunter over to his side instead.

The aroma of the tomato wafts across your nose, the sauce definitely homemade rather than store-bought. You peer over into the pot, the margarita-covered penne mixed in with vegetables and meat. “Who knew you could cook?”

Wonwoo chuckles, hearty and deep, as he stirs the food in the pot. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

Yet. He says the word with such relaxation, like it’s inevitable you will discover more information about him. Like he’s certain you’re not going anywhere. It has to be a delusion of the future filling him with such confidence, without a doubt.

Shortly after that, the table’s decorated with towering plates of pasta and a lit candle at the center. The mixed scents of vanilla, jasmine, and tomato sauce blend harmoniously somehow.

You share small talk about Wonwoo’s cooking skills and your pool abilities over dinner, bantering throughout with the dry humor you delivered yesterday. Wonwoo takes it all with a smirk, volleying it back at you with charm that makes you forget your dinner exists altogether. You don’t eat all the food on your plate, but you’ve never been more full.

Both of you migrate to the couch with your glasses of wine, leaving the plates on the wood’s high-top and getting comfortably lost in more conversation. Suddenly, you remember exactly why you’re there, and you turn the tides of the conversation to address the purpose of your attendance. “So, the support group.”

Wonwoo laughs into his glass, shaking his head in a gesture that tells you he was just waiting for the inevitable. “What do you wanna know?”

“Why were you there?”

Wonwoo’s smile turns small, still bright but a tad dimmer, and a stone sinks down deep into your stomach. “It was my mother’s birthday that day. She died three years ago in April, but her birthday is always the hardest day for me to get through.”

“It was a sudden sickness, one that we didn’t expect her to get.” He runs his thumb along the ring of his drink, his finger leaving an opaque smudge. He looks back up eventually, the ghost of his small smile haunting his features. “I’m just grateful I had the time with her that I did before it was too late, you know?”

Wonwoo’s words reroute all the knots from your core to your throat, making you unable to speak. You click your own nails against your drink in a pattern, counting the beats in sequence to avoid the tears welling in your eye ducts. One, two, three, four taps. 

Four becomes five until Wonwoo brushes a hand along your knee. “Are you alright? I know that was heavy, but a winner deserves her prize, right?”

You appreciate Wonwoo trying to lighten the mood that you’ve darkened with your silence. The slam of the bottom of your wine glass startles Wonwoo a smidge, and while you didn’t mean to scare him, you know you need to leave before you fall apart.

“This was fun, Won, but I-I have to go.” A tear falls from your face as you speak, another escaping before you can make the waterworks disappear. Wonwoo holds your arm the same way he did a day ago when you were so close to leaving before. This time is different, though.

Wonwoo’s worry for you and whatever’s haunting you replaces his previous somberness. You recognize the contortion of his face like the back of your hand. You’ve seen it in family members and their condolences. The friends you kept and even the ones you lost from being distant. Even coworkers you never spoke to and random strangers who could recognize the shadows of loss.

It disgusts you, and you can’t bear to see it from Wonwoo of all people. You attempt to yank your arm away like your life depends on it, but he doesn’t let you slip away so easily. “Will you talk to me, please?” he asks. “You don’t have to hold back whatever you want to say.”

“I’m not, not at all. And it’s presumptuous of you to assume I am.” You shake your head, voice sputtering on some kind of laugh. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.” Again, the space between you and him is virtually nonexistent. Your hearts match in rhythm, despite your sadness and apprehension. The unspoken strings between you snap one by one with every movement of his hand, slowly reaching higher until his hand cups your face. His thumb runs over your jaw bone.

You don’t know whether to pull him closer or run now that’s holding you with a looser grip, and the thought is as sobering as his mouth a breath from yours.

“I have to go.” You clutch his wrist with your hand, but you make no move to turn and walk away. You leave indents in his skin from your nails gripping him, but he doesn’t break his hold either.

Then, in a broken trance, he lets you go and steps back, swallowing hard. “I’ll see you at work, then?”

You nod. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Anytime, really.”

You think about the importance of words, what they carry and how deeply they can mean when a person you care about says them. “Yet” and “anytime” have never been of significant value to you before, passing vocabulary that’s left little for your heart to grasp onto. But he says it without facades, each vowel and consonant holding the undercurrents of his desires. You feel your knees buckle a touch as you ponder it on your way out of his apartment and to your car. Your thoughts dwell on what that kiss would’ve felt like, and the panic that follows when you realize how badly you wanted it.

A week flies by, and then two more, until you realize you’re always passing Wonwoo’s cubicle with a cup of coffee, or he’s pestering you with a sticky note or two regarding legal jargon you’ll never read up on.

Neither of you mention what almost occurred in his living room so long ago, but it feels like only a second between that moment and the present when he’s inhabiting your space at work or blowing up your phone.

You don’t know why he started calling and texting right around the time you were prepared to shut your eyes for sleep, but it was a comfort you didn’t mind cherishing before dreamland took you under its wing. His explanations of corporate law terminology to the plotlines of One Piece became your lullabies.

A regular person can’t cement themselves in your life overnight, but Wonwoo is anything but regular.

As you’re filling out your timesheet for the week, your thoughts circle back to Wonwoo as you notice him in the conference room with the rest of the legal team. Vernon talks animatedly with his hands as Minghao and Jun type down notes. It’s a riveting silent film, but the only actor you’re interested in is pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose incrementally, and it makes you melt in your chair.

You have emails to type, spreadsheets to complete, and here you are acting like a high schooler with an unrequited crush.

Pulled sharply from your daze, Wooyoung bats you on the shoulder with his clipboard. San from HR laughs at your best friend’s assault on you, your acquaintance’s chest rippling as you rub your shoulder and give Wooyoung your signature glare. “What the fuck?”

“You should focus on the November report instead of ogling your new piece of man candy.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you reply, calm and collected, even though someone has now turned the judgement on you for your prying eyes. Wooyoung had his own priorities as a market strategist; he had no business judging you for taking time off of business tasks to ogle.

You return to your initial view of the conference room, watching the gentleman in the confines of the glass office.

You don’t expect Wonwoo to be staring right at you when you turn your attention back to their meeting. Wooyoung and San talk amongst themselves about your comical behavior in the third person, but you don’t mind them and their idiocy. You’re too focused on the man who’s a dozen feet away.

Wonwoo practically gives you the same glare you delivered to him in the support group the first time he was there, but his eyes are all humor and no bite. He holds his binder up a smidge, signaling somehow for you to look down at the one propped against your laptop. You find a blue sticky note sitting on the front of it, and you know Wonwoo must’ve stuck it there when you went to the bathroom a half hour ago.

7 PM showing of Spider-Man Saturday. You in? X

It’s a measly set of perpendicular lines in Wonwoo’s handwriting, nothing extravagant on the sticky note itself. How can the letter and his proposition turn your heart into mush so easily? And why does it make you immediately nod in Wonwoo’s direction?

What was he doing to you?

You’ve watched the 2003 film many times in your life—you could recite the lines by heart, truth be told—yet seeing Toby McGuire swinging around in a latex suit still brings childlike wonder out in you. You smile into your handful of popcorn at the scene before you, the kicks and punches between Spiderman and the Green Goblin in the middle of Manhattan amplified by the theater’s sound system.

You dressed up a bit more this time for the outing with Wonwoo, despite your self-insistence on keeping it casual. Nothing had happened between you up to this point, only the opportunity for a kiss that never came. Who was to say anything romantic would happen now in the darkness of a theater?

The movie cuts to Spiderman swinging Mary Jane to a hotel high-rise away from the chaos of Times Square, and Wonwoo picks that moment to take the hand not holding more popcorn into his own.

It’s a funny feeling, the moment before something unexpected happens. It’s like your body bristles to a point of high alert before you’re struck with the reality something is occurring, for better or worse. He rubs the back of your hand in slow, delicate circles, and it feels like the start of something good while every cell inside of you screams to run.

The flutter inside of your stomach at his touch dies when you give into the spiraling thoughts, a cruel voice reminding you the butterflies won’t last. It carries the face of a person you’d rather forget. A smile that haunts every hour of your existence, and eyes you wish you could look into one more time outside of your nightmares.

You tug your hand free and speed out of the theater, not bothering to look behind you to see if Wonwoo is following you. You know he is, his calls of your name muffled amid the horrendous laughter ringing in your ears. When you’ve stopped running, you realize it’s raining all around you outside. The alleyway behind the theater only provides so much cover, but Wonwoo doesn’t care. All he wants to do is hold you as you’re hyperventilating, so he does.

“Hey, hey, hey. What happened?”

You hiccup, unsure how to go about saying the words when a phantom hangs over your shoulder and whispers words you have no willpower to fight. What makes him any different from everyone else? Nothing, and you know it.

“I’m right here,” he swears like it’s true, and you see red.

“Until you get sick of it, right?” You can’t look him in the eye as you say it, but it doesn’t make it feel less true expressing it out loud. “This isn’t gonna change. You’ll always wonder what’s wrong. I’ll never give you a valid excuse because I barely fucking know myself and shut you out. You’ll get bored really quick, Wonwoo, so what’s the point?”

“What are you talking about?” His mouth hangs at you accusatory questions, and it only makes you laugh harder. 

It’s easy to pretend your tears are only rainwater splashing down your face.

“There’s no point chasing after me anymore. I’m not worth the hassle, and it’s too much baggage for you to unpack, so don’t waste any more of your time.” You move his hands from your face with weak fingers and watch his arms fall limply at his sides as you turn to head towards the sidewalk and back to your car.

Wonwoo’s laugh is so bitter, you can taste it on your tongue. “You may think that what you’re going through is something nobody can understand, but a part of you knows you’re being ridiculous right now.”

You shake your head and continue down your path, barking back at him with a “Go fuck yourself.”

“You’re not the first person to lose someone, and you won’t be the last!” You stop walking down the alleyway, and you hear the sharp intake of breath on Wonwoo’s lips. He takes another second and set of steps to get closer to you before saying, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You turn sharply, hair whipping across the open air. “You wanna know why I’m in the group, Won?” Your question drips with rhetoric like venom, sarcasm bordering on fury. “Because I got tired of all the noise of everything after…after—Chaewon just wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone about work and what was going on with me. And everyone at that point kept poking with their pity until the shit I said and did that day happened.” You flail your arms at your sides, the rain soaking through your sleeves. 

It was unprofessional, a huge moral deficit, as your boss put it. Especially when all Chaewon asked for was a valid reason for an extension on your trend report. “No coworker, especially not a subordinate, should treat another coworker that way. Your personal matters should not impede on your ability to be a team player.”

Your boss used every administrative play in the book while looking over the materials you ruined for the newest magazine issue, and that was before you screamed in your department head’s face. You didn’t mean to hurt Chaewon the way you did, but admittedly, it felt good to do it.

It was nice to let a part of you run free, even if it was a vulgar and unapologetic piece. But if you had known it would cost you every ounce of your pride and some semblance of your privacy, you would’ve thought twice. 

Your entire body is drenched by the time you finish your tirade, as is Wonwoo’s. “So yeah, that’s why they put me in that pity party of a support group. Because God forbid I snapped one fucking time for a valid fucking reason.”

“They just wanted you to get some help. Everyone needs that sometimes,” Wonwoo murmurs. He tries to step closer, each movement apprehensive, like he’s cornering a rabid cat into a carrier.

His movements make you feel like one, a wounded animal in need of immediate attention without regard for its unwillingness to accept it. It turns your eyesight red, and you think you may just be feral at this point. “I don’t need anyone’s help, Wonwoo! Not that group, not Seungcheol, not the damn lackeys in that fucking office, and especially not—”

Wonwoo gives up the pretenses and yanks you into his arms. He plants a hand across your hair and squeezes you in his hold, still tender despite the vice grip he has you in. The tightness of his hug shakes something loose in you, and you barely recognize you’re crying until Wonwoo cradles you closer and shushes you, even as the rain beats down on you both. “I’m here,” he promises.

“I don’t need to be saved, Wonwoo,” you say through fractured, sob-laced hiccups. Your eyes look past his brown ones, into the depths of his soul as you ask—plead even—“I just want to make the pain stop.”

“Let me help,” Wonwoo offers, rubbing the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. It may be the most ridiculous, careless thing you can do at the moment, but when the urge to kiss him comes, you don’t stop it.

Call it an emotional break or a sudden rush of your suppressed desire shining through, but the second you press your lips to his in that brick alleyway, you don’t regret it. He tastes like salvation, of unbreakable promises. It could either heal or ruin you, but you don’t mind if it’s a little of both.

The raindrops cling to your clothes like a second skin, latching onto every curve. It’s easy to shed with the help of Wonwoo’s hands. By the time you’re an inch away from the doorframe of his bedroom, he’s wearing his briefs, and you’re left in your underwear. His warmth wraps around every part of your body like a campfire, stoking all the cold out of you and bathing you in the heat he provides. The thunder roars on, and lightning splashes the sky in white streaks, but the only light that sustains you is him.

“Is this okay?” He mumbles as he grazes the underside of your bralette. The material is so drenched that he can see the peaks of your nipples through it, but he’s trying to keep his composure and go at a speed you’re comfortable with.

You don’t hesitate, not wanting the moment to be dampened by your worst thoughts. They’re at bay now, and you want to use that time for what it’s worth. “More than okay.” You unclasp your bralette from your back, letting the wet garment plop to the floor. “Touch me, please.”

His index finger drags so slowly across your nipple, the ripple of electricity that tickles your skin follows the same tempo. While you’re willing to go fast, Wonwoo cherishes you with reverence. Even as he takes your nipple between his lips, moving his fingers down your stomach and into your underwear, he remains patient. “So wet,” he groans against your skin when he guides his fingers along your slick folds. It’s like he’s discovering a precious treasure before him, twirling your wet curls in his hair with his free hand as he runs the pads of his opposite fingers through slick heaven.

You tremble in his hands, all the nerves in your body a hot, frenzied mess in his hold. He thumbs your clit in slow circles, making it hard to stand any longer in the in-between space of his living room and bedroom. “Woo, I want more.”

He takes his fingers from your center and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, and he chuckles into your throat. “Needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You giggle before he reattaches his lips to yours. His kisses taste like rainwater and second chances, physical proof that not everything has to be lost. He never lets you go or takes his mouth away on the slow trek to his bed.

Wonwoo sets you down gently, his eyes giving away all of his vulnerability. “You’re beautiful, you know that right?” You blush, wrapping an arm around your face, but he pulls it away and kisses each finger on your hand. “Every inch of you.”

The words go unsaid, but the bite of his lip and dark hood of his eyes tell you his desire goes beyond lust. I want to explore you forever.

Even the parts of you that you’ve deemed too dark, too painful, too unworthy of anyone’s entry. His expression tells you he may just take the risk and split you open fully to see what’s inside. With his eyes peering deeply into your soul, you think all he sees is hope. Like your heart holds the sun that peers out after the worst downpour in the world.

He rolls his briefs down his hips until his length springs free, knocking into the lower segment of his abdomen from how hard he is. “And you called me beautiful,” you say, breathless. Wonwoo’s cock drips pre-cum at the swollen tip, and you have no qualms sitting up and reaching out to encase him in your palm, running his essence across his skin.

He tips his head back and his mouth goes slack, a curse leaving his tongue. “You may kill me.”

You smile and run your lips along his neck, dragging your canines along the skin of his jugular. “If I do, I promise it wasn’t my intention.”

Before he can get too lost in the pleasure of your fingers wrapped around him, he traps your body between his own and the sheets below you. He doesn’t stop kissing you once he finds your lips again, even as he stumbles finding a condom in his bedside drawer and rolls the latex onto himself.

You don’t need to prepare for the eventual drag of his cock between your walls, already dripping from his previous touches, but he envelops you completely when he fills you to the hilt. He fits so snug inside of you; you think he could sit there forever and never leave. “You’re so tight, holy shit,” Wonwoo moans as he begins moving his hips.

You release a garbled moan, the sound practically swallowed by his tongue in your mouth. He takes and teases, but he always gives it back, rolling his lower half into you with a deliberate pace that helps you inch closer to a release. It paints the back of your eyelids in slow strokes. The act of getting there is as beautiful as the release itself when it’s with someone like Wonwoo giving you such perfect bouts of pleasure.

This feeling, like Wonwoo, is addictive and addicting in the same instance. You think you could get used to this, and it’s not just the lust having its way with your mind. Having all of him like this, his days and nights, rain or shine, may just be possible with the way he pours his devotion into your body. You just have to give him the opportunity.

He kisses you with the strength of a thousand stars exploding at once, and that’s the moment you fall apart underneath him. You let yourself bask in the feeling of your orgasm. You clutch onto his shoulders tightly as your walls spasm around him, sucking him in for every drop of pleasure he has to give.

He spills into the condom soon after, his hips stuttering and his kisses stilling as he feels his body succumb to the same pleasure you felt a few moments ago. The look on his face is pure bliss, the laugh on his lips the softest sound to accompany the pitter patters of rain on the window.

He throws the latex away before nestling back into the bedsheets with you. His arms wrap around you like vines as you rest your head on his chest. It's a comfortable silence between you, no words needing to be said to express your feelings for him.

I know you could love me forever if I give you the chance to.

You feel his response in the slow fall of his heart rate and the small snores he emits in the crown of your hair. The softness of his being is all you need to fall asleep too, and you think it may just be worth it to let him in.

The moment you wake, you feel a wave of nausea creep through you. The thoughts that erupted in that rainy alleyway a handful of hours ago come back with a vengeance. They clutch your throat with a begrudging hand until water streams from your eyes, hitting Wonwoo’s pillows like bullets. You try to subdue the sobs that rack your body, terrified of waking the man sleeping next to you, but it proves to be a fruitless fear. He sleeps like a stone through it all, immovable and solid.

With weak limbs and a fuzzy mind, you unbind yourself from Wonwoo’s hold and collect your things when you get out of the bed. Every piece of your heart breaks, the glued pieces of porcelain cracking once again into a heap on the floor as you walk away and out of his apartment.

It could only last for so long, that peace he provided, and you feel foolish for thinking a few hours of pleasure could change the new reality you’ve come to grips with long ago.

What the fuck did I do? I shouldn’t have gone out with him again. I’m so stupid.

Driving home in the rain, you try to turn on the radio to something that will be loud enough to drown out the spiraling thoughts and the sounds of your sobs reverberating through your tiny car’s interior. With a cruel twist of luck, Billy Joel’s “Everybody Has A Dream,” blares through the speakers. The piano chords and Joel’s whistles are ones you could recognize anywhere, and it stops your brain from falling further down the hole you’re accustomed to.

It’s his song, the song you have barely gotten through a note of without bawling.

You stop your car in the center of the road, despite the light being green in front of you. Cars screech behind you and blare their horns, some even roll down their window in the soaked night to curse at you, but you don’t care. The entire world could burn down, and all you would hear is the keys of the piano signaling your send-off.

The rivers on your cheeks become floods, all-encompassing and combating the leftover parts of the storm raging on outside of your vehicle. It makes the veins in your head pulse like a bass drum, but there’s nothing else to do, even if the song’s faded out by now. The DJ’s voice fills the space, but you can barely hear him.

You hate your father; the realization strikes you like a penknife to the heart as you press your forehead into the steering wheel, knocking your knuckles into its center until your own horn screams back at you. You hate him for leaving you alone to pick up the shards he created by going away too soon, sooner than you were prepared for. How could he part from you with such a gaping hole left in your chest and no roadmap for how to fix it? Was it even possible to mend such a wound when its shape was present everywhere you looked?

You continue to sob, no grounding techniques or motivational words coming to mind as your heart restarts just to bleed out all over again. 

Some time after the funeral, a doctor told you grief often changes the chemistry of a person’s brain. It undergoes neuroplastic changes and leads to alterations in emotional regulation and cognition. It made sense, given the way you exploded on Chaewon two months ago in front of everyone in the office. And all of that, the choice to either take a mandatory leave or seek counseling, led to that ridiculous fucking support group. And all the moments you shared with Wonwoo since then.

Guilt bubbles up behind your anger until it overtakes it, the way you’ve been acting almost shameful. You don’t regret him, but you regret this tugging you’ve done with his emotions alongside your own. But what other options have you had at your disposal? You’ve been stumbling around in the dark for so long, the light is not something someone easily accustoms themselves to again.

And Wonwoo is a person who exudes a radiance unlike anyone else you’ve ever met. You can’t believe there’s a chance he can truly seep into the darkness you live with now and soak it up for you. Not without him taking on some of it himself. 

You decide when the tears come at a slower pace that you won’t let him; he’s worth more than that. And it might break what’s left of the fraction of hope you held onto when you met him, but you’re grateful he gave you something at the very least. It’s better than nothing.

“I still think about what it would be like to kill him, even if I know it wouldn’t solve anything.” Hongjoong grumbles, twiddling his pack of nicotine gum between his fingers. “In my dreams, I do. I do it before he has the chance to make it past my driveway. Before I forgot to watch her playing.” Hongjoong breaks into a fit of angry sobs, and it tugs at your heartstrings bitterly.

The police and cops ruled the death of Hongjoong’s five-year-old daughter vehicular manslaughter. The guy who committed the crime had been remorseful and received less time because of his allocution. According to Hongjoong, he forgave the stranger a long time ago, but you don’t think anyone blames him for the anger and resentment that still lingers.

“Do you think your wife or other children gain anything by continuing to harbor this anger?” Seungcheol asks with no judgement, just objective curiosity.

It strikes a nerve in you, so deep it pulls a response out of your lips before you can stop it. “That’s a fucked up question to ask.”

Suzy gasps, hiding the sound behind her coffee cup. Hongjoong looks surprised himself, but Seungcheol is pleased to hear your voice. He’s only ever tried to make small talk with you while he’s filled out your slips after every session, but you’ve never given him any room to work with. Until now. “Why do you say that?”

“Because…” you ponder the answer, the coherent reasoning jumbled amongst your impulsive thoughts. “It’s a bit unfair. Sure, maybe he’s not the same husband and father he used to be, but what does anyone expect? His oldest kid dies, and he’s supposed to shelve that for the sake of others?”

“Nobody’s asking that of him,” Seungcheol responds. “I asked if it serves anyone for him to hold onto negative emotions.”

“Whether it does or doesn’t, big fucking whoop. Grief doesn’t serve anyone with anything purposeful. It’s all bullshit pain we’re supposed to make better somehow in just the right amount of time or else. Otherwise, everyone has to tread around it like it’s a disease. It’s exhausting.”

You barely registered Wonwoo’s presence in the room, but his messy mop of waves concealed in a beanie adds a second layer of pain to your words. You’ve evaded his texts and calls for the past two days. Avoiding work yesterday didn’t help the way you thought it did, Wooyoung texting you profusely with secondhand messages you didn't want to be reminded of.

It was better this way. You repeated the words to yourself like a mantra when the first batch of Wonwoo’s messages appeared on your lock screen. But seeing him now, you know it was a lie.

Heartbreak, like grief, lacks a purpose beyond the demand to be felt.

Wonwoo clears his throat. He tries to pose the question to the entire group, but he stares so deeply into your eyes when he says it, everyone knows it’s only for your ears to cling to. “Have you ever considered that the reason you think it serves no purpose is because you don’t let anyone in to help you make sense of it?”

Your bottom lip quivers despite your urge to compress your feelings, the anger that was simmering in your stomach now at a rolling boil. You kick the chair from under your legs as you leave the circle, cursing the entire time. You hear Seungcheol request a ten-minute recess for the session, and you know without a doubt the walking slogan is following you.

You keep your focus on the brick wall of the bakery that shares a back alley with the church when Seungcheol finally makes it outside. “Don’t say—”

“I’m just out for a smoke. Was needing a break anyway.” Seungcheol flicks his lighter to life and has a cigarette between his lips in the next second. A huge plume of smoke leaves his lips, and the acrid smell of smoke hits your nose, but you don’t turn from it. He reaches into his pack and hands you one once he lights it.

You chuckle sadly as you weigh the cigarette between your fingers. “How did you know I used to smoke?”

“You suck in a breath when you get angry, and your hands shake like you’re going through withdrawal. That used to happen to me when I tried quitting the first time.”

You nod. “I haven’t really done it in a while. Haven’t had the energy to go buy anything besides frozen meals and water.”

The silence between you both is deafening. Seungcheol doesn’t pry, although that’s his very job, to help you face your emotions head-on, and you don’t elaborate on your points from earlier in the group session.

“My wife died five years ago,” he finally says. He flicks the cigarette at his feet, digging the ashes into the surrounding dirt with his foot. “Was a drunk driver on the way home coming back from a restaurant. I was driving.”

You try to respond, but no words come. The lining of your throat kills them all before they can leave you, like butterfly wings that never unfurl. He goes on amidst your silence. “It took a long time to realize it wasn’t my fault, just terrible timing.”

You turn to look at him, but he keeps his attention on the shops and sidewalks surrounding the church, cold air leaving his mouth in grey clouds. “I’m sorry,” you say, the two words with no serrated edges this time, the anger from your voice gone.

“‘S nothing for you to apologize for. You didn’t know, and I don’t talk about it all that much.” He gives you a knowing stare with the shrug of his shoulders, no bitterness in his expression as he explains without words that you’re more alike than you would’ve known. You can’t imagine the guy having a bitter bone in his body, even if he has reason to. “But that’s why I started this. Going on about it may not help all the time, but I can let some of it go when I know I’m not alone, even if that feeling only lasts for a minute.”

“Are you saying that I have to explain why I’m like this with everyone to feel better? That’s your nugget of wisdom?”

Seungcheol's eyes turn solemn, disappointed but not surprised at your rhetorical questions. “What I’m saying is that pain isn’t avoidable. You know that better than anyone by now. And locking yourself away clearly isn’t working.”

You fight back the tears passing through your eyelashes and puff again. “I don’t need your backdoor psychology, Choi. Even if you and everyone in that group has more than some idea of what I’m going through, it’s not the same.”

Seungcheol chuckles without humor as he hands you another cigarette, his fingertips lingering over your palm in a familial way. His touch is warm despite the winter weather, the contact a salve over the cracks that have formed in the past few days, and it makes you feel worse somehow. “Whether you push people away or not, your capacity to hurt isn’t going anywhere. Wasting time you’ll never get back by being alone does nobody any good, especially yourself.”

“I don’t do anything for anyone like this,” you respond, words breaking. Your hands shake as you take two more drags, smoke filling your lungs as the shadows continue looming. “I can’t give any parts of me when I don’t know what’s left to give at this point.”

“Speaking from my experiences with you—which I know are limited—I’d say you’re not giving yourself enough credit.” Seungcheol plucks the cigarette from your hands once you make it to the end. “And I bet your little friend would say the same thing, if not more.”

Like the call of a siren song, Wonwoo comes through the back door of the church, a bit embarrassed to intrude, but relieved to find you before you left. It’s all over the sudden sag of his chest and the downturn of his eyes.

Seungcheol smirks to himself while he puts his pack back in his coat pocket. “Speaking of the devil, I’ll leave you to it.” He pats Wonwoo on the shoulder as he makes it to the door of the church. The closing of the back door punctuates the silence between you.

“Are you finally gonna talk to me?” Wonwoo asks, his voice teetering on desperation and indignation. He doesn’t want to be angry, you can tell, but it all comes out in the crinkle of his eyes and the line of his lips.

You don’t blame him, either. You’re the one who left him as soon as you woke up, no verbal or written explanation left behind to keep him from assuming the worst. “What do you expect me to say, Won? I don’t—”

“Don’t say you don’t know what I want from you. I’ve been clear about that since the first day we saw each other in this fucking church.” You’re taken back by him cursing, the act one you’ve not seen from him often, but he keeps going. “I want to help you. Whether that’s as your friend or something more, I can accept that. But what I can’t accept is you keeping up this act you’ve been putting on.”

“It’s not an act,” you say defensively. “It’s too hard to let anyone in. It may be hard for you to accept, but that’s the truth.”

“You need better practice at lying, sweetheart.” When your face crumbles with defeated confusion, Wonwoo goes on. “If it was so hard, you wouldn’t still have Wooyoung in your life. You wouldn’t have kicked my ass at pool, and you definitely would’ve done a better job at avoiding me. You may not want to admit it now, but you’re using your grief as an excuse to run away from feeling anything else.”

“You don’t know me,” you say, the words an echo that reaches through time with an entirely different meaning.

“I think I do.” His chest is barely an inch from yours, and before you know it, your lips join in a bruising kiss. It’s desperation from the days you spent without each other, almost stitching the time between that night you were in his bed and now together like a crochet tapestry. It’s yearning to be better than how you’ve been, to do better for the man who wants to teach you how to find happiness again.

Most importantly, it’s hope, unadulterated and unembroidered with the promises of what would’ve been. It’s only now, and that’s enough. It would always end this way, you think. Wonwoo holds you so close he may squeeze you into his coat to keep you from running away. A muddled cry escapes you before your lips connect again, your tears wetting the space between your mouths.

When you part, you think you may never let him go again, and this is the penance you’ll pay for the rest of your life for thinking you could ever handle being without him. “Where do we go from here?” you ask with glassy eyes, finding a glimmer of peace in the way Wonwoo holds you close to him with all the gentleness and love in the world.

“We heal.”

ONE MONTH LATER

None of the group members believe it when you offer to go first during the second to last session. You had half a mind to not to, promising Wonwoo you would share on the final meeting day so you wouldn’t have to suffer through another gathering with everyone knowing your story. Wonwoo only held you closer, stilling your trembling body with kisses to the crown of your head and his reassuring words whispered into your hair. “You’re stronger than anyone in that room, and it’s time you prove it.” You love him for that, among the plethora of a million other things, but that’s another conversation for another time and for only the two of you to share.

Suzy, Hongjoong, and the rest of the group follow you with understanding eyes, a response you used to dread. But now, you accept it just to get by. Seungcheol stares with immeasurable pride behind his eyes as you clear your throat.

“My dad passed away a year ago now,” you start, hands shaking but firm against the plastic coffee cup. “It was sudden, so sudden when the call came I didn’t believe it. I called the cop that told me about the accident a liar, like it couldn’t be true. It couldn’t happen to me, and not to him. Not yet, anyway.”

“You always think that you have more time to spend with someone, to tell them all the things you didn’t have the courage to say to them when they were still around. And that’s how I felt about him and our relationship, like I’d have a lot more moments to fix what I needed to for the two of us, and for myself. Maybe I never would’ve been ready, anyway, but—I couldn’t accept that all those chances, all those opportunities, were gone when he was, too. Most of the time, I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real, like it’s this thick fog I’m under that’ll eventually clear.

“And that’s why I’m here with you guys. And maybe talking about it now can help me to get through it the right way.”

You don’t look up from the floor as you continue, but Wonwoo’s hand on your thigh and Seungcheol’s leading questions ground you through it all. The tears flow, and the words leave your lips with all of their broken seams. Each thread of your heart unwinds, the experience equal parts freeing and devastating in the release.

Whoever the creator of the slogan from that third week of the support group is—Seungcheol, a random stranger, or a prophetic person who knows all too well the tragedy of grief itself—you’re growing to believe time can bend every sad emotion into something manageable, especially grief. And yes, you have yet to see what your own grief ultimately turns into, but you know you’ll take comfort in the fact you won’t be alone when that day comes.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @innocygnet @ghstzzn @xylatox @bambiihee @prkhaven @lunarlaina @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @okiedokrie-main @chanranghaeys @brownbunnyb @lovetaroandtaemin @livelaughloveseventeen @aaa-sia

𝐍𝐄𝐓����𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @pirateeznet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

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

[childofsolace-write-ups]

[ARC ONE: REUNION]

INTRODUCTION

In the first year, thinking about it now, it was probably already starting then. There was no disaster, but I think it had been hinting on something, about an end that was to come. It was completely dark that night, we thought it was just some kind of an eclipse. But this one was a little strange. It was eerily quiet. I was scared. My baby sister was scared. Hell, my parents were scared. But then, they said it would be okay.

Like always, for every single day of our life, the sun would come up again, shine upon Gaea, and things will go back to normal.

Was I ever wrong.

You know what they say, right? Don't look at an eclipse straight in the eye. It could ruin your eyes? Well, when the sun came, it was so much worse. Anyone who walked out was burned... No, incinerated. Just like that, stepping outside and they spontaneously combust on the spot. The world thought it was just some new phenomenon. Scientists were trying to figure out why it happened. It took a whole year, but nothing came up for their trouble.

Then six more years followed, each one bringing forth a different kind of terror. The weather was unpredictable; countries that never experienced snow suddenly started experiencing hailstorms, leading up to terrible geo-storms. Insects invaded farms and destroyed their produce. Wildlife got infected with some unknown substance until them finally became creatures that look more like monsters we read only ever read about in stories, or watch about it movies.

And that was just the beginning of where everything went completely wrong...

/Trent Everhart/.Transmission over.//Year 70/

Once, people flourished and made a living above land. The resources were abundant. But then again, so were the humans who needed them.

Soon, 'Natural' lost its meaning, 'Artificial' replaced it. Machinery operations ran the daily lives of people, flowers and plants were faked serving as decorations, tall buildings took the place of tall trees in rain forests. Most factors considered natural can only be seen through microscopes.

But nature took its own course and returned with vengeance. Cosmic debris crash landed from above, causing an explosion that plagued the entire planet. It polluted the atmosphere and strange side effects started revealing themselves. Animals and vegetations alike were most susceptible to these changes. They attacked humans, nearly wiping out the entire species. Unable to thoroughly explain how this happened, scientists, without sufficient evidence, wrote it off as radioactive particles causing severe chemical changes to earth's living inhabitants.

But humans were smart, they were animals in their own way. They strive for survival.

Using the historical underground city of Derinkuyu as a reference they created a modernized type and with their latest state of the art technology they expanded it even further from two hundred feet to one thousand feet. For this purpose, unbeknown to the public, a life under the surface of the Earth was being prepared for them. Unlike the Derinkuyu however, they had the materials and technology to have metallic interiors and bunker units for dwelling. A large, nine hundred meter metallic ventilation shaft was constructed, filtering the carbon from above to be breathable oxygen air. The shaft also provided water to both the villagers above and, if the outside world was not accessible, to those in hiding.

Eventually, anyone not affected by the atmosphere were evacuated to underground cities right before the atmosphere could become too unpredictable and prove hazardous to their lives. A new system of governance was created. Since the underground cities in all part of the world were interconnected one way or another, they all decided to use a unified language starting then. 'Councillors' is the term referred to leaders chosen in each division, the word country becoming obsolete.

Guards who were obligated to inspect the surface level regularly were given Hi-tech contamination suits with advanced, state-of-the-art filters as to not be be affected by the atmosphere since anyone exposed to the atmosphere is banned from re-entering the cities. Some people died due to open wounds exposed to the atmosphere's strange particles.

Soon, humans engaged in a new form of living, but not without encountering troubles along the way.

The fear of being unable to distribute provisions without having shortages became prominent. This led the Councilors to convene altogether and come up with a radical solution. They decided to send back to the surface anyone they classify as worthless or a liability. More than a thousand orphaned, disabled, and jobless individuals were sent back up on the first release. It did not really matter to them if they survived or not, it was inconsequential as long as their survival was assured. In the years that followed, this became a normal routine. With the initial liabilities released, all the present releases were orphaned children. Then again, as one hero once stated in the History of the Surface, "The Youth is the hope of the nation", there came a generation of hope.

It was not planned, it wasn't an intention. It just happened.

Of the first batch of releases that only involved orphans, only eight had survived the harsh environment of the regressed and primitive state that the surface had been reduced to. Together, they survived and now thrive to make a living once more above ground, as humans were really meant to be.

Still, the Underground city was not to be ignored. And perhaps, it is to be reminded, who the true enemy really is.

::TREY::

The forest is quiet.

That's your first clue. Even on the surface, even given that most of the Earth's living creatures got wiped out within weeks of it happening, things should never be This quiet.

You'll never know; something dangerous could be trying to hide itself.

"I think this is where I found it."

I give a jolt when Lexie spoke behind me. I completely forgot she was there. With the silence, it was easy to think I was alone. "Keep your voice down," I whisper. "we don't know what might be out there."

"Trey," Kytes whispers back. "wouldn't it be better to just use telepathy? We wouldn't be making any sound."

I sigh, "Kyi that would be using our signature and if there is any bad Mana around here, that would set things off, like an open flame to gas leaks." I rub my forehead. "C'mon, we've been over this a thousand times. You're lucky it's not Rhys reminding you."

Kytes scratches his head. "Oh, yeah..."

"Been here for eight years, you would think you'd have that memorized by now." Lexie teases playfully. "It's survival 101."

Oh really? I think sarcastically. Like she's one to talk about survival 101. Half the time, Corrin's the ones reminding her of our protocols...

Kytes looks a little sheepish. "People can be forgetful, it happens..."

"Okay, shut it already you two." They weren't really making any real noise, but I knew Lexie's tendencies and once you got her talking, it might be harder to get her to stop. "Kytes's idea was good just too bad for that small detail. Now we should keep quiet." Like I was making any noise, though. "Let's get a move on, keep alert for anything that doesn't feel right."

"Heh, I forgot how uptight Trey can be..."

I huff in irritation but chose not to respond. She calls it being uptight, I call it instinct. It was very important after all, especially in terms of surviving the surface's unpredictability. We, the ones left, have gotten pretty good in relying on instincts. It's about the only warning you get up here.

The forest is very unusual even if it looks like any other forest. For one thing, I'm not even sure it can be called a forest, at least not a natural one, given that it's growing in the middle of what used to be a town. The road is cracked by numerous roots, and most of the buildings have trees growing out of them. Their walls could be hiding any number of things. The forest itself is the oddest thing. Many years ago, this was a thriving metropolis, full of people, tourists, machines—now it's home to trees that look like they've been there a good fifty years at least. This is one of the most immediate changes caused by the strange atmosphere when the phenomenon had first spread out through the entire globe. The landscape got warped beyond all recognition in the early days. That's why so many people died...

Like mom and dad.

"Oh!" Lexie cries and stops in her tracks.

I turn towards her. "Shh!" I snap. "Alexis, jeez."

"But Trey, this is where I found it. Only..."

Kytes scans the area. "Well, it's not here now."

"Quiet, the creature that pissed might still be around." I face Lexie. "And you're sure the piss was the non-absorbent type?"

We have to watch where or what we step into. Because if, for instance, you got an open wound and you stepped into a puddle with urine in it and that wound happens to get infected as well then it could mean something really bad. The Rabid animals up here are so messed up that even a slight contact with their shit may turn fatal for us. Luckily, only the Rabid Animals have urinal waste that have a touch of color so it's easy to figure which ones are the non-absorbent type. We try to get rid of those because prevention was better than cure.

"Well, it was a pool on the ground, all purpley and molted. I watched it for a while, it didn't seem like it was going away." Lexie combs strands of black hair away from her face. "So I thought..."

Kytes shrugs. "It's either something else absorbed it, or it really was absorbent after all and just needed more time to soak in."

"Maybe. So then, should we just—EWW, GROSS!"

"What is it—OH YUCK!"

I swat them both to remind them to be quiet and made a mental note to give them extra kitchen clean up duty. Really, do they want a death wish?

"It's just a skeleton—" an animal's. We don't see human skeletons since the earlier days, when we made it a point to try and bury the ones we still could out of respect. "you've seen them before."

"I know—but they're usually not THAT fresh." Lexie frowns.

I have to agree, it's isn't the prettiest thing I've seen. Even the other skeletons weren't as bad. It looked like someone's halfway eaten meal...

Wait.

"Quiet. See if you can hear anything."

Lexie leans back against a tree, Kytes crouches by a bush with me, and we stay still as possible listening out for anything unusual. I know there's something not right here. No animal noises, no birds. Then there's that heavy oppressive silence as though we're being watched very closely. A light breeze blows my fringe into my eyes and I bat it out of the way, frowning. The feeling something being wrong is stronger than ever.

Wait.

The breeze.

It should have rustled the leaves on the trees too. Yet there was no noise. I look up at the tree tops. They're perfectly still. Even as another breeze stirs the forest. Why would that be? Unless the trees are watching us?

I look around the Clearing.

Now that I think about it, the trees do seem slightly closed together than they were. As I watch, an oak sends a root trailing over! What could they be doing?

Unless... The Skeleton.

"RUN!" I grab Kytes and haul him after me, jumping over the oak root and out of the circle of trees.

"Woah now! Trey—what?"

Kytes doesn't have to finish his sentence. A large branch is suddenly in front of us and I'm unable to stop from tripping over it. A root winds itself around my ankle. Kytes is now full aware of the attack as more follow, breaking the surface of the ground to wrap themselves around us.

"I thought they only moved that fast with time lapse photography!"

Kytes takes his survival knife out. "I think this is a bit more serious than time lapse photography!"

Before I could bring out my own Cutlass, some vines grab hold of my forearm. The blond slashes off with precision he mastered, perfectly avoiding cutting my flesh. Lexie wields her double-edged Naginata to cut off vines stretching down from above. I'm still amazed how a girl like her who used to whine about missing cosmetics and other pointless stuff is now so skilled in combat. I think Lexie's weapon type came from some Asian country. I forgot which one. Actually, I even forgot what our own country was called. It seemed like such a long time ago that we used the term country.

I am once again forever grateful of Rhys's brilliant mind. Back then, we could count the weapons we had available to us with two hands. But once we got older, or more to the point, when Rhys got older and smarter, he made used of some books he found to create bladed weapons once we found a steel forging factory. And he had enough books to show him how to forge weapons of different origins. He taught us how to make our own, but most of the time they were poor attempts compared to what Rhys can craft. Now any weapons we need for ourselves and those who keeps coming can be easily accessed and made... Well, maybe not easily made since they still required a lot of effort, but at least we don't have to keep scavenging for usable weapons now. Sure, we could use all those guns and ammunition we got in storage, but we all agreed to save those for a time we might really need to them. Besides, at least with bladed weapons, there's no worries for a shortage of ammunition.

"Kytes, Trey! Do something, they keep coming!"

Kytes slashes his knife to an incoming vine before jumping back. "Uh, and you don't call what we're doing something?" He jumps over a root.

"Less talking, more attacking!" I snap, finishing off the hostile roots at my side and rush to aid Lexie. I make it in time to keep a giant flower bud from chomping her head clean off, barely missing the launch of purple goo it spat out. "Wah?!" I yelp, twirling my head around for a double take, seeing the goo boil through a bush as if it were acid or something, which explained the skeleton. "Okay. Rabid Vegetation's Gastric acid. Just as bad as a Rabid Animal's piss."

Lexie grunts, using her weapon as leverage to get up. "Noted. Next time, try saving my skin without pushing me. I twisted my ankle."

Okay, that was my bad. But it was that or being plant feed. At least she didn't break skin and bleed. Although uncertain, Corrin says fatality is possible if open wounds were exposed to loose Mana energy for more than ten minutes, and I forgot to make sure that we brought bandages with us. That's one strike of careless act for the day. I try to keep that to a minimum, the maximum being three. As the Leader, being extra cautious is an expectation.

"Trey! Help me out here!"

I spin around and saw vines lifting Kytes up, his knife lay useless on the ground. I rush towards him.

By duty, I was responsible for everyone up here as their leader.

As a friend, I was responsible for the blond, I was indebted to him.

When my sister was sick on the day we were going to be released to the surface, he took her place. I also owe it to his older brother, my best friend, who was now taking care of her back in the Underground city.

The vines were so thick that I couldn't slice through it with my Cutlass. I had to use the other way, but how can I with Kytes still in its clutches? A vine grips around my arm and I wince in pain as it tightens on my radius.

"TREY!"

Before I was fully aware of it there was fire flooding all my senses. I lashed out in rage, only vaguely aware of the beeping on my wrist that reminds me to take it easy. The vines holding up Kytes fall away in front of me. Luckily, the blond looked unharmed.

"Get out of the way!"

Thankfully, Kytes seemed to get what was about to happen. He grabs his knife and rolls out of the way. Good, I did not want to be misunderstood now. The two did not take their eyes off me as they back away. I concentrate where I want to have the flames to burst out and the results were no less effective. The Vegetable mutations draws back, leaving us unscathed except for Lexie's twisted ankle, which Corrin can heal no problem. I concentrate on pulling my power back. I look at the device fashioned like a watch that was strapped on my wrist, indicating my energy's exertion level. I see that it's stable and I join the two out of the clearing. Kytes helps her up and supports her weight.

"Code Red?"

I sigh, nodding. "Yes. We had far too many incidents this week alone, this being the twelfth. It's about that time again," It was a little frustrating. Rhys just got a filter working so we could fill a pool with clean water. I guess we have to make the most of it while we're still here. "I don't want anyone hunting till we move. We still have meat stocked so it's not like we have to settle for the vegetables and fruits in Kytes's gardens."

"Hey," The blond scowls. "My produce aren't that bad... are they?"

I smirk. "No Kytes, but if there's a chance to have meat, we want to have some too." I pat his back. "Let's head back."

"Oh, but Trey—" Lexie's eyes rolls up a bit. It signals her using her tracking ability. She's like a built-in GPS system with that. I don't really get it, but she can sense another person's or thing's Mana and Rhys has a theory that the ones who use Mana in their own way also has a unique trademark, like a fingerprint, so to speak. It was a bit unnerving the first time she used it since all you see were her cornea, but if you knew her as long as we have, you get used to it. "—yeah, I sense three guys out hunting nearby already."

I roll my eyes, "Three," I mutter knowingly, and the two share similar looks. "the only one who can get away with not following the group count rule is Meeko, and only if he has Lori and one other person watching his back."

Back then, with the whole idea of 'The rule of three' and it being an optimal number, maybe it would've made sense. But when playing video games and I would choose Party members, to challenge myself, I would pick three only; the MC would still get enough experience points and two characters would be enough to support him in battle. But this isn't a video game with a restart button. Normally when we send out groups for hunts, Five was the permitted number. It's too dangerous any less. Meeko can get away with it since his ability was multiplying himself. Usually, Meeko did most of the work to get it out of his system, being one of those always hyped-up types. Granted, he is one of our best hunters which we would all acknowledge often if he wasn't so rash and impulsive at times. This brings me to his better half, or more reasonable twin brother, Lori who normally didn't like fighting. Unless something or someone he cares for is in danger, he can be provoked to act though.

In our case, well, I thought the three of us would be enough for the Urinal extraction since we weren't really expecting a fight since this wasn't a hunt for food and we are still pretty much near the base, but I guess I didn't account for the fact that trouble would be the one hunting us. Even two persons used to be enough for extractions, but perhaps I neglected to take into consideration the level of experience. Previously, those two persons doing extractions had been either Rhys and myself or Leon and Jonah, the latter pair being eldest of our entire group. I only grabbed Kytes and Lexie this time because they were immediately available, and while I did not question their experience, Kytes was more adept to scouting, and that entailed evasive action, staying in a place only long enough to check its safety and avoiding combat as much as possible. Lexie was used to scavenging, which was gathering any useful items or materials after scouts deemed an area clear for occupying or searching. These two haven't seen combat as often as I have.

Damn, that's a second strike for me. "Where are they exactly?"

"A bit Northeast you'd get to that river, follow it downstream you'll make it to a clearing passed some thicket of bushes. Berry bushes, to be exact, not the good kind. They're at a glade of sorts..." Lexie smirks. "Well, at least the two not going crazy are. But I sense the third more crazier one of them is nearby."

Kytes laughs. "Just make it easier and call him who it most probably is. Even I can figure it's Meeko." he says.

"Okay, you two head back. I'll go fetch them. Kyi, after you take Lexie to the infirmary, go tell Rhys to prepare putting up some warning signs." I instruct. "Suggest Code 3." Carnivorous vegetation.

The blond nods. "Code 3, got it." He lifts Lexie, positioning her on his back in a way that can make him run faster. He takes off and I'm fairly impressed. He's fourteen carrying a sixteen year old while managing a running pace. I guess years of training does that.

I sheath my Cutlass and took off myself.

[secretobsessionstuff]

Could I request a fic with your sweetest, softest male character? He has a really terrible stomach flu (fever, shivering, cramps, cant stop throwing up or retching even when he's empty) and is trying his best to hide it from his friends-- maybe afraid of being a bother. Bonus points for eventual comfort and lots of belly rubs.

Dude this is such a good request! I love when characters hide being sick!! thank you. This ended up being rather long, for me anyway, so I couldn’t add in everything you wanted. But I would be willing to write a second part to this fic if anyone was interested. 

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

Alexi felt disgusting, but he looked pretty darn good for someone running a 102.2F temperature. He didn’t have much choice; it was either admit to feeling like absolute garbage, thus ruining the whole day for his friends, or keep up the façade and pretend that his eyes weren’t melting inside their sockets.

So yes, Alexi looked perfectly normal…he hoped. Though his cheeks were flushed, the convention center was insanely hot and crowded for anyone to think something was wrong. He just pushed through the mass of people, knowing that in such tight quarters he was spreading his flu…well like the plague.

It felt like the plague anyhow. His head was throbbing, as if his brain were trying to escape through his ears; that unnatural chill that only came from a fever was causing goose bumps to pop up all over his arms and down his back; and his belly was roiling.

As Madix, Riley, and Micah were all waiting in line to get pictures with obscure, second choice and therefore affordable actors, Alexi snuck away to the bathroom for what felt like the billionth time that day. By noon, he was very aware of where every single bathroom was located in the building.

This trip to the toilet was like all the others. He locked himself in a stall and gave himself permission to express the pain he felt clear across his face. Hugging his aching stomach, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take slow breaths through his mouth. Alexi had no way of knowing how high his temperature had gotten since that morning, but he could tell he was feeling worse. Breakfast was sitting heavily in his gut which he knew wasn’t going to be there for much longer.

The nausea was intense, so much so that he needed to brace himself against the stall walls to keep himself upright. This time he was lucky that there was no line to get into the bathroom, because he felt dangerously close to seeing partially digested waffles fill the toilet. Alexi’s Adam's apple was bobbing up and down like a buoy on the choppy ocean. He continuously swallowed down waves of saliva. As he shoved the bottom of his palms into his eyes, his knees gave up and he slumped to the tile flooring.

With his elbows on the dirty toilet seat, he spat sticky tendrils into the bowl. Deep and guttural burps echoed in the small space around him, and could probably be heard by every other person in that bathroom, but he couldn’t find the effort to care.

A gag suddenly took him, and he found himself leaning into the toilet, prepared to catch anything his stomach was going to send up. His jaw felt tingly and heavy, but still nothing came up but wet belches. One harsh heave interrupted the burps, but it was dry. The second heave came soon after and this one was much wetter. It brought up gush of thick pale vomit that made Alexi shiver as it rushed up his throat. Tears leaked from his eyes from his eyes and his arms felt weak as they supported his body. A deep groan was heard from his stall as Alexi flushed the toilet and left while rubbing his face. The few stares from the witnesses didn’t bother him, not while his stomach was bothering him so much more.

Alexi returned to the line after having cleaned himself up. He washed his hands, gargled water in his mouth, and splashed his face so that he didn’t look so ashen and sweaty. Of course, as he met back up with his friends, a new wave of sweat had broken out across his nose and a new chill shot down his back. He wrapped his arms around themselves, partly to stay warm and partly to hide the goose flesh that any sane person would question in this scorching room.

Alexi ducked under the rope and joined his friends halfway through the line. He plastered his happy-go-lucky smile on his face and said something random. That was one of the downsides of always being chatty and bright – it was so much more obvious when something was wrong.

His boyfriend seemed to relax slightly once Alexi had returned. Micah took Alexi’s hand and swung it against their legs. He gave Alexi a quick peck on the cheek, but he moved away rather slowly. The smallest trace of worry crept across Micah’s features, though it dissipated as soon as Madix changed the topic of conversation.

The lineup took ages. Thankfully, it gave Alexi time to rest. He wanted so badly to sit down but he knew that would draw attention to himself. So, he stayed standing, shifting his weight back and forth on his legs. Alexi soon rested his chin on Micah’s shoulder, hoping that it came across as boredom and not fatigue.

Micah gave him a strange look. Though before he could question it, Alexi excused himself to the bathroom once more. As he turned to leave, Micah grabbed his wrist.

“You just went, Lexi,” Micah remarked. “Besides it’s almost our turn.”

“I know, but I’ve been drinking a lot of water.” Alexi looked around nervously. “I’ll be quick I promise.”

Alexi wasn’t quick. In fact, he stayed in the bathroom even while the three other boys got their pictures, autographs, and merch. Micah was getting worried. As the three of them left the line, Micah’s eyes were darting in all direction, looking for his boyfriend. There weren’t even any bathrooms in sight.

“Micah, slow down,” Riley said as he struggled to keep up with his cousin. Madix was trailing behind as well.

Micah bit his lip worriedly. They were stopped in the middle of the room, with booths and people all around them. “We have to find Alexi. He won’t know where we are.”

Madix urged the group to the side of the room where the likelihood of being trampled was far less great. “He has been gone a long time. Is he okay?”

“I don’t know.” Micah started to chew on his thumbnail. “I’m gonna go look for him, you guys stay here so we can meet back up.”  

Micah embarked on his mission. He pushed through slow walkers and squeezed past people in amazing yet impeding cosplay. The first bathroom he saw was his destination. He made a beeline for it, and just as he came upon the door, Alexi emerged. He hadn’t spotted Micah yet. Micah noticed the way his boyfriend held his stomach and the way he staggered slightly as he walked. He called out to him.

Alexi jumped, but quickly composed himself. Before the pair could head back into the madness of the con, Micah pulled Alexi to the wall.

“You were gone forever, Alexi.” Micah said, sounding a bit annoyed, though he changed his tone to something softer as he carried on. “What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?”

Alexi slumped his shoulder against the wall. Apparently, he wasn’t so good at hiding his pain. In that moment, he was sure that his face was sickly green and betrayed the truth of how he was feeling. The sour taste of vomit was fresh on his tongue, but he tried to ignore that while he spoke. Micah didn’t need to know that he was throwing up, because then he would surely make them all go home, and Alexi couldn’t do that. They’d all been waiting a year for this con. He could keep up the semblance of health.

Alexi’s face turned red. “My stomach was a little upset, but it’s better now.” That was lie…but Micah didn’t know that. In truth, Alexi’s stomach was killing him. He would have loved for Micah to take him home.

“You sure? It’s okay if you need more time, I was just worried before.”

“Yeah I’m sure, let’s go.”

“Okay…” Micah said hesitantly. He wasn’t entirely convinced, especially with the way Alexi was holding his belly, but he didn’t want to press the matter and make Alexi embarrassed.

It was easy enough to find Madix and Riley. They were pulled off to the side of the room, casually watching the cosplayers walk by and gawking at their favourite characters come to life.

When Alexi approached them, he looked less alive than he had seconds ago. His belly was still so upset, despite having just thrown up; apparently, he rushed himself a bit too much. He stumbled to the wall and caught himself, narrowly stopping his aching head from colliding with drywall.

“Whoa Alexi,” Riley said, reaching his hand out to grab his friend’s shoulder, “you look rough.”

Madix got closer as well, which Alexi wasn’t too thrilled about considering that he was pretty sure he was about to heave his stomach into his hands.

Madix looked back and forth between Alexi and Micah, wondering if Micah had noticed his boyfriend’s state. “Lex, you look like you’re about to pass out. Your face is grey.”

Micah wanted to jump in and relieve Alexi of everyone staring at him, but he really did look awful. Perhaps it was worse than what Alexi was letting on. “Babe, I thought you were feeling better. Tell us what’s wrong so we can help.”

As if he were drunk, Alexi’s vision darkened and he swayed where he stood. There was no denying it now, not when his friends were interrogating him like this. “I feel awful,” he admitted, while dragging his back down the wall and sitting on the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and groaned.

At the same time, the three other boys all crouched down as well. When Alexi’s eyes focused, he found both Micah and Madix staring at him worriedly. But they were so close, too close. He only wanted Micah. Just Micah and no one else. He wanted to be away from all the noise, the people talking, the bright lights, the crowds.

He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I tried to ignore it, but my stomach is a mess, I can’t stop throwing up, my head is killing me, my –”

Micah put his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “What! You threw up?”

Alexi nodded miserably.

“Oh Alexi,” Madix added, “you should have said something.” He gave a sympathetic look to the sick boy, seeing the way his nose dripped with sweat.

Madix instinctively reached his hand up to touch Alexi’s forehead, then paused with his hand hovering halfway in the air. “May I?”

Alexi nodded weakly, already aware of what Madix was going to find. His golden curls were brushed back by Madix’s cool hand that felt nice against his burning skin. He leaned into the touch, momentarily letting someone else support the weight of his head.

“Shit, man.” Madix pulled his hand away slowly. “You’re on fire. No wonder you feel like crap.”

Alexi moaned and curled in on himself. “I feel like I’m gonna be sick.”

“Yeah, we’re going home right now,” Micah said decidedly. “Lexi, can you stand?”

Alexi probably could not have stood up in that moment, but he didn’t need to try because it was then that his stomach decided to spasm again. He retched emptily at first, succeeding only in making his body lurch forward. Everyone took a step back out of shock, and everyone except Riley moved back to keep Alexi from falling forward.

The second heave burst from his chest, sending up a thick wave of vomit that covered his legs and dripped down his chin. Alexi choked out a sob and squeezed his eyes shut as a felt his stomach do another flip. By this point, Micah was rubbing his back and muttering something sweet he couldn’t hear. Blood was pulsing in his ears, making him dizzy and drowning out any attempt at comforting him.

God, he felt so sick. His stomach continued to contract painfully, even when he had nothing left to throw up. He clutched at his chest while he heaved dryly in the crowded room. Thankfully, Micah and Madix were partially covering him from view. This privacy, however, did nothing to lessen the gut churning sensation in felt in the pit of his stomach.

By the time he finished, his cheeks were streaked with tears, his chest was tight, and his hands were shaking. The worst part was that he still felt like hell.

Micah was soothingly brushing his hair away from his face. “Alright, take it easy, babe. Try to catch your breath.”

“I feel so sick,” he moaned while looking at the mess drying on his crotch. “I want to go home.”

“I know you do.” Micah said, still gently massaging Alexi’s head. “Madix and Riley went to find the car, so you don’t have to walk as far.”

Alexi wanted to thank his boyfriend. He wanted to apologize for being sick. He wanted to do so many things, but he couldn’t even keep his head from lolling around. He simply closed his eyes and wished for the day to be over. He wished to be lying in bed while Micah played with his hair. If it was any consolation, part of that wish came true. 

[onetwosevensquad]

Good Enough For You: Chapter Thriteen

Doyoung x reader

Summary: You are your brother Yuta’s songwriter and Doyoung is his best friend and manager. When your brother gets his chance to go on tour, what happens when you have to spend two months on the road with your long time crush and scheming brother?

Warnings: like one curse word

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

———

When you and Doyoung stepped out of the hotel into the cool night air, he led you over to a car waiting by the curb. He let go of your arm and opened the passenger door for you to step in. He went around to the other side and got into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Seriously Doyoung, where are we going?” You said smiling at the man next to you. As he pulled into the road, Doyoung laughed.

“I told you it’s a surprise,” he said with a smile. You rolled your eyes but nonetheless kept the smile on your face.

You looked out the window and admired the beautiful city in Singapore. Soon, Doyoung came to a full stop outside of a restaurant. He shut off the car and came around to your side to help you out.

He gave the keys to the valet and led you inside. When you stepped inside the restaurant, your mouth hung open at the lavishly decorated interior. You wondered just how comfortable Doyoung’s family was if he could afford something like this.

Doyoung took your hand and led you behind a hostess to a table in the corner near the window. You both sat with your menus and looked through the options, going back and forth on what looked good.

Finally, about half an hour after arriving, your food and drinks were at the table and you and Doyoung were telling stories. You laughed together and generally had an amazing time.

After the food had been cleared away, you and Doyoung ordered one more drink before leaving. You looked out the window and watched as people went about their evening. Some on dates, some out with friends, you even saw a young family who had just got ice cream at the shop down the street.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Doyoung staring at the side of your head. You fully turned towards him and looked him in the eye which cause a slight blush to creep up his neck.

“What?” You questioned, smiling at his bashfulness. He took a sip of his wine before he spoke.

“Nothing, it’s just...” he paused, looking for the right thing to say. “You just look really beautiful.”

It was your turn to blush, muttering a small thank you before taking a sip of your own wine. The smile on Doyoung’s face told you that he was proud that he made you blush. Cheeky bastard.

His smile soon fell though, as his eyes trailed behind you.

“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled. You turned in you seat towards the door to see where he was looking. Your eyes found none other than Lexi standing at the door with that other intern you saw her flirting with back in Tokyo.

You turned back to Doyoung and saw him call over the waiter to pay the check. He pulled out his card and handed it to the young man he made quick work of bribing it back to the table. You knew that Doyoung was rushing because he was not big on confrontation and neither were you, especially with Satan’s secretary.

You were on you feet before Doyoung, knowing that you two were leaving. He stood up and grabbed his jacket and, as soon as you had yours on, grabbed your hand in his and led you towards the door.

“Doyoungie!” You heard from behind you. So close. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” you turned to see Lexi holding onto her dates arm, who looked confused. You noticed Doyoung hasn’t said anything yet so you decided to speak up.

“We really have to be going,” you said tugging on his hand. You saw Lexi scowl at you before you turned and made it out the door. You walked Doyoung down the street a bit, away from the restaurant before you stopped.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a minute. You saw the sullen look on his face and felt your heart break. “I’m sorry she keeps ruining everything.”

“Doyoung it’s not your fault,” you said pulling him into your arms. He snaked his arms around your waist and hold you tightly. “Besides I had fun tonight.”

“Yeah?” He said pulling back and looking at you. You reached up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. When you pulled away you both smiled.

“Yeah.”

———

Rose: this was almost going to be the last chapter but I have a few more ideas. But yea here’s chapter thirteen! We’re in the teens already jeez! I hope you enjoy and you’ll see more on Thursday. Also if anyone gets what tv show I referenced in here I’ll love you forever. I’ll tell you what it is in Thursday’s post.

[wlw-multi-fandom-imagines]

Okokok how about lexi is super into rue (bc she is lmao) and r is into lexi and she tries really hard to get noticed by lexi and then the night of the dance lexi sees rue and jules together and hooks up with r and lexi thinks it’s a big mistake the next morning but when r starts to avoid her shes like wow i actually like this human (or u could make it angsty and lexi doesn’t like her romantically)

The second you saw Lexi step back through the gym doors, you forced yourself away from the wall and headed straight towards her.  You had been trying to catch her eye for most of the night, but of course, her gaze has been mostly locked on Rue, who was obliviously too distracted by her own life to notice.

It was now or never, you had told yourself.  The dance floor had already started to clear, as well as the parking lot outside.

“Lexi!” you shouted over the music and reached out to touch her arm once you were close enough.  “Look, I just...do you want to dance?”

When she whirled around to look at you, it became apparent that the brunette was a bit tipsy.  Her cheeks were flushed and for a second, you swore her eyes were tearing up.  Before you could ask if she was okay, a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth and she nodded back towards the exit.  

“Let’s do something more exciting.”

Despite the nagging feeling that Lexi was upset about something, you allowed yourself to be pulled out into the hallway and away from the rest of your peers.  

“You have a car, right?” she asked, not even bothering to glance back as she tugged you towards the front lot at an erratic pace.  

“Yeah,” you confirmed and fished your keys out of the inner pocket of your suit jacket.  You had spent an hour and a half adjusting the vintage suit you had managed to find at a flea market, hoping to impress her or at least earn a second glance.

“Are you okay to drive?  Cause I’m really not.”

“Yeah, I smoked but it was uh, like an hour ago.  I’m good.”

You planted your feet once the two of you were outside, finally forcing her to stop.  Headlights flashed to your left as you clicked the key fob and Lexi smiled again before dragging you towards them.  She was too fast to even let you offer to open her door for her, so you slid into the driver’s side and started early 2000′s Honda’s engine.  Much to your relief, it didn’t sputter the way it usually did on chilly nights.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you asked as you threw the car in reverse and backed out of your spot.  

“We can go to my house; I’m sure my mom’s passed out by now.”

“And that’s going to be more exciting than dancing?”

“If you play your cards right, it will be.”

Every muscle in your body tensed as her hand tentatively gripped your thigh.

You drove the short distance to her house without another word.  Truthfully, it took everything you had to keep your focus on the road in front of you and not the way her thumb occasionally moved back and forth against the fabric of your pants.  Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you pulled against the curb and put your car in park.

“Come on, we have to be quiet.”  Lexi finally removed her hand from your leg and stumbled out of the car.  She was drunker than you had realized and you hurried after her to make sure she didn’t stumble on the way to the front door.

The two of you managed to make it into the house without a terrible amount of noise, though had started to giggle after struggling to take her shoes off.  You steered her towards her room, noting her mother’s sleeping form on the couch as you passed it.  

The second you shut the door to Lexi’s room, you heard her take a deep breath as though she was preparing for something.  Her lips met yours as you turned in response and for a moment, you froze.  Excitement filled your chest, battling for dominance with the guilty awareness of the alcohol behind her actions.  You were about to push her away when her arms wrapped around your waist.  Giving in to the weakness in your knees, at least for now, you allowed her to shuffle the two of you back to her bed.  

“Lexi?” you pulled back and opened your eyes.  “You’re drunk and I-”

“You’ve wanted this all year, Y/N.  Don’t ruin it with your conscience.”

She kissed you again and you relented for the time being.  She was right, though it hurt to know that she had been aware all this time and just ignored it.  

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

“Y/N!  Y/N, wake up!”

You jolted awake as panicky hands shook you and tried to figure out where exactly you were.  Memories of the previous night crashed back into your mind the second you looked at Lexi’s panicked face.

“What happened last night?  Did we have sex?”

“Lexi, no!” you assured her quickly.  “We just...we made out a little and then you tried a bunch of times but you were really drunk and I didn’t want you to do something you’d regret.”

“I...I what?  Jesus, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” you jumped out of her bed and began to hastily button your shirt back up.  “You should take some Advil and drink some water.  It’ll help.”

You were practically scrambling to get out of her room and in doing so, almost forgot your keys.  Despite the fact that you could feel her eyes on you, you kept your gaze firmly on the ground while you retrieved the lanyard and retreated to your car.  

[retro-aesthe]

Sidelines (Part 3)

(idk what happened. I typed and this is what came out. I feel like it should have a TRIGGER WARNING. So yeah, be warned... I think. Enjoy reading!)

Alex Danvers x fem!reader

One week. Seven days. Seven fucking days of avoiding Alex Danvers, of always being close to tears every time you remember what happened that night. Also, always cringing whenever you do.

• • •

Lexie pulled back. You were shaken out of your hazy mind, and you sobered up enough to make sense of what was happening. You can still feel Lexie’s hot breath against your mouth, and you can’t help but want to pull her closer and kiss her again.

“Y/n. Stop. You’re…” It was blurry, what Lexie said afterwards. Right when she said “stop,” you pulled back, horrified. You looked into her eyes. They were so big and you can see how she was a mixture of alarmed, confused, and terrified—fucking terrified. God, you ruin everything.

Lexie was still talking, but all you can hear was ringing. You were getting dizzy, as if you’re close to having a mental breakdown. If there was a “zooming” feeling, it was this. The tequila doesn’t help—it was making everything worse. And your heart was racing and everything was sharp yet they aren’t.

“Leave… leave, please leave.” Your voice went from low mutter to above average volume. You weren’t shouting though, it was just loud enough to stress conviction, your need for her to leave. “Please, Lexie, leave…” you were whispering now, because you’re close to hyperventilating. You were close to having a breakdown, not being able to process what was happening.

“Y/n… no…” You looked up at her with tears in your eyes. You were still battling the alcohol in your body, that’s why when you tried to push her off your sofa, your hand slipped from her shoulder. You kept on trying until she relented. She stood up.

“Y/n…” You heard her try once more. You shook your head fiercely and muttered “leave.”

You were a mess and you only half care about it.

• • •

Every time you remember what you did, you cringe. No, you shouldn’t have wasted that bottle of tequila that night. You shouldn’t have given in to urges. Or, you should have gone to a bar.

You just went out of the building where you work when the ground shook. You immediately parted your legs to steady yourself then, covered your head. You looked around and saw people panicking. The ground was still shaking—it was an earthquake, obviously—so you looked up, and immediately became scared as you saw how cracks were forming on the building’s walls. The shaking became harder, and your previous attempt to balance yourself failed. You fell on the ground.

You were panicking too—except, with wild eyes, you tried to search your brain for anything that you’ve learned from the earthquake drills you attended ever since preschool. Nothing was coming up, you were too distracted by the screams other people were eliciting. And, of course, by the ground shaking. You were just able to remember to go to—

A block of cement fell just a few feet near you. That made you scream. There was smoke everywhere, caused by the fall of the piece of building. You coughed then covered your nose and mouth. With squinting eyes, you looked up and saw the cracks went all the way up, and that your workplace was showing signs of giving up (more like, falling down). You scrambled to get up, and you just followed your instincts by ducking and placing both hands above your head. You tried to hold back your breath to not inhale the smoke. All you can think about is getting away from the falling building but, surprise, buildings surround you and they were all shaking. Despite this, you ran, towards what you consider “away” from it all. You remained on the sidewalk, a bit far from the road, since above the screams were horns of cars hitting and missing each other, of buses screeching to avoid car crashes.

“Oh my god, the world is ending,” you muttered to yourself, your voice shaking. You were starting to lose hope fast, because nowhere is safe.

“Supergirl!” You heard someone scream. You looked up cautiously and, there, up in the sky, you saw Kara flying around, trying to save people… or stop buildings from falling. Your attention was suddenly diverted towards someone moaning near you. You looked around, but you can’t concentrate because a lot of people were running past you. It was doing things with your head.

The shaking stopped. But the noise everyone was causing didn’t. There were lots of cries, hissing of smoke, and loud ringing. The ambulance and police cars can be heard getting near. You once again heard the moan. You looked around. Then you noticed, just at least three to four feet away from you, a car crashed on a telephone pole.

A woman was underneath the slightly raised car. You gasped and started running towards the scene.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you muttered repeatedly. You were kneeling beside the woman. Your hands were shaking, and they were circling just near the woman. If you weren’t currently in a situation as serious as this, you would have laughed at yourself because it was as if you were trying to heal her with your “miraculous” shaking hands.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” you asked instinctively. “Of course, you’re not. You’re fucking trapped under a car,” you muttered, angry that you were so dumb to ask the question in the first place. “Um… I’m gonna get you help… oh my god, blood,” you exclaimed, when you saw that blood was coming out from her mid-stomach. Her lower half was under the car. You don’t know what was holding the car slightly up. Whatever it is, it was the only thing keeping this woman from death.

You feel like you’re in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

You tried to think. Stop the wound from bleeding; you heard Lexie’s voice in your head. You placed both hands on top of the woman’s stomach.

“H-Hurts…” you stared at the woman’s face—it was filled with drying blood—and you just barely managed to throw a sarcastic line at her. This is the reason why you’re not in a humanitarian job like Lexie’s, or Kara’s, or… Maggie’s. You’re better at behind the desk jobs rather than socializing (except when picking informants and interviews) and helping other people.

“Well, I am keeping you alive by stopping the bleeding. I’m gonna call for help—Supergirl!” you bellowed. You honestly don’t recognize yourself right now. Everything’s happening so fast and it’s changing you.

Of course, she wouldn’t come. She may be trapped in keeping a building from falling apart. You looked around. Everyone’s either in the same situation as the woman, or as you.

“Y/n?” You turned to your and looked up and saw Maggie Sawyer. Maggie freaking Sawyer was staring down to you… was that concern in her eyes?

She was wearing her uniform. She doesn’t look like any of the people near you—her face was calm and not single cell in her body was screaming “panicking!”

“Help her.” You were surprised by your voice. She immediately looked at the bleeding woman. She nodded repeatedly and spoke something at her walkie-talkie. The familiar face, even if it’s Maggie Sawyer, makes you want to cry. You don’t know what’s happening with your emotions, they were all messed up.

“Help is coming. Y/n, you’re bleeding.” You frowned at what Maggie said. You’re not. You would feel it if you were. God, why was she so dumb?

“What? I’m not. This woman is. And if help doesn’t come any minute, the car might go down and crush this woman—and my hands.” You heard the tremor in your voice. You don’t know why you’re close to crying, but you are, and you so badly want to go back to your apartment and hide under your covers and stay there until you die. Blood was rushing to your head and you feel hot and all you can think about is how you want to leave because nothing about everything that is happening is right.

You were always so good with keeping your head above drowning problems, or dealing with crisis, but you don’t know why you’re reacting as if you’ve never seen catastrophe hit the city before.

“I’m aware of that. It seems as though you are not aware that your head’s bleeding, as well as your side.” She—Maggie—was kneeling beside you and you didn’t even notice her kneel. You were getting scared of everything she’s saying, simply because you don’t believe her.

“You keep spacing out…” You heard her say. You just frowned. “Let me take over…” Her words were like cut scripts from a malfunctioning TV. You felt something move your hands, and suddenly, Maggie was in your place. You sat on the ground, and just stared at Maggie blankly. What the fuck is happening? You keep trying to focus yourself, but everything was loose. It was as if you’re everywhere.

“It’s a deep cut—hey, Y/n, look at me. Focus on me.” You were trying to locate the cuts Maggie said you had. Your right hand reached that side of your head, and you were refusing to believe that wherever you touch, it was sticky. Sticky with blood. You pulled back your fingers then stared at it. Oh god, blood. Deep, dark, sticky, red blood. You looked down. You saw your shirt ripped, as a gash can be seen in between the rip of the shirt. It looked deep—angry red, but not deep enough to bleed out.

“Y/n, focus on me,” you heard Maggie say once more. Her eyes were fiercely on you, but her hands remained on the woman’s stomach. Your gaze kept shifting from the woman to Maggie, back and forth.

“What happened to me?” You managed to whisper, because you don’t remember pain. You don’t remember being hit by anything. If it weren’t for Maggie, you wouldn’t have known you were even bleeding. There was no pain. Was it from the block of cement that fell near you? It can’t be, because it was far enough…

“Y/n, keep your eyes on me.” You looked at her once more. Maggie. When did you look away again? “Help is coming.” Her words were hard, but they were a bit clouded to you. “Hey, hey, Y/n?” Her words were clear again. “Listen to me. Alex is coming, alright?” You opened your mouth when you heard Lexie’s name, to say something, but you can’t form words. You don’t know what to say.

You swayed, uncontrollably, so you immediately put your left hand on the ground for support.

“Oh god, Y/n. Stay with me. Hey—Hey, Alex is here! There she is! Keep your eyes open—Y/n.” You finally detected panic in Maggie’s words. You’re still in denial that she was talking to you even if you heard your name. Everything felt cold. You felt faint. You’re wondering why you haven’t felt this before. All you wanted to know was what caused this. When did you start bleeding?

Your arm holding you up was shaking, and you chose to concentrate on keeping your consciousness and not listen to Maggie’s annoying voice. You know you’re holding yourself up, but the feeling in your supporting arm went away. You felt light, yet hot and cold at the same time. What was happening? You kept your eyes closed because that’s the only way you can focus. You’re focusing… you’re focusing. You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re bleeding and you’re awake. You have to stay awake. That’s what they say in the movies, right? Head injuries are serious. Bleeding is serious. You have to stay awake. Y/n, stay awake.

You felt someone shake you, and you gasped and opened your eyes. You felt the back of your head resting on a pillow, and the bed was moving. Another earthquake? Why were you moving? Wait, why were you in a bed?

Lexie came into your line of vision. The room was dark, robbed off the sunlight you remember before closing your eyes. You close your eyes.

“Y/n, keep your goddamn eyes open.” You opened your eyes and saw Lexie staring down at you and there were tears in her eyes. Why in goddamn’s world is she crying? Wait, oh god you were bleeding.

“Lexie—“ Why was it so hard to speak? “Lexie, I’m bleeding,” you choked out. Why is it hard to speak? Is this it? God, you’re tired. You wanted to close your eyes.

“She’s in shock—“ You heard someone say. Then, you felt a warm hand against your cool right cheek.

“Y/n, stay with me, alright?” The hand was slightly shaking, and so was Lexie’s voice.

“Lex—“ Your tongue kept twisting. “—I’m bleeding,” you muttered, and your eyes were slowly closing. It was slow for you—you actually thought you became cross-eyed for a minute. It was like a lagging laptop shutting down. Or a robot shutting down. Like in the movies.

“I know, Y/n, you are. God, you are. Stay awake for me please?” Was Lexie crying?

Okay, I will. —You’re sure you told her.

[ziasheart]

here's my commentaries on episode 4 🌌

• first of all: i don't know what i was expecting from this episode, but definitely wasn't what it was. and i'm really happy about it (?) 'cause after having watched so many shows and movies (like, a lot, if you guys know what i mean kkkj) throughout the years, i'm kinda used to often find myself easily predicting what's going to happen next. i didn't knew how much i was missing this feeling of being surprised by a path that a story takes, what makes me love EUPHORIA even more now.

• in my opinion, the sequence of Jules's background wasn't so deep as it could have been. it really got me on tears, but at the end i had this feeling that her story was too speeded up and so many information was missing.

• Jules and Nate's scene was SO FREAKING AMAZING!!!! the passive-aggressive tone of it was just breathtaking to me, my expectations of what was going to happen between them would twist back and forth again and again in matter of seconds. LOVED IT.

• Nate's manipulation is so brutal: how he mix massages, disdain and care, hard words, soft ones, so the victim (yeah, i'm talking about Maddy here too) will fear him but not enough to not keep -wrongly- believing on a supposed good, benevolent side of him. i really enjoyed the fact that the writers decided to keep following the psychopath arc with him // and i confess i would have been disappointed by a romantic arc starting between him and Jules instead.

• the way that Jules, even being a very sweet and friendly person, aren't afraid of standing up for herself, being a f*cking badass, so no one will think that they can come around messing with her (yeah Nate, this is for you): ♡♡♡♡

• speaking about romantic arcs: i'm worried about Rue. i really love Jules and i do think she's a great, loving person. but... i think there is a strong possibility that she's actually confusing her feelings to Rue, and can end up hurting her even without bad intentions.

• i love so much how realistic & actual the character's are ─ and how that seems to be extending further than the teenagers ones, to the adults, based on Cal. the way he talks to Mackey at the carnival remembered me of so many men i know, with that same "success driving" mentality and constantly talking about it.

• and what about the reactions?? Rue and Jules freaking out after the whole "buying chili" moment was so realistic! it was just like watching two real best friends on tape.

• so, Cal's behavior when talking to Jules about how her speaking out about their "situation" could ruin his life, etc... i really don't know about that. i think it could, yes, have been a desperate move. but i still have my suspicions about everything having been just an act, a conscious move of him to guarantee safety, to discover in which ground he is stepping with her.

• i really hope they start giving more attention to Lexi's story in the next episodes. that scene when she's left behind when Rue meets Jules at the carnival really broked my heart. i think she will be such an interesting character.

• i'm also so curious about Nate's brother (??) what's up with him?

• about next episode: will be all about abusive relationship, right? i'm super excited for it and simply know that EUPHORIA's won't be coming to play around with the subject. and i think that the 'cops and Cal at school with Nate' scene could be about what Nate done to Maddy's neck and not about Jules (?)

[peytonhudson]

Girls After Dark || Peynah

tagging: @doveporthannah & @peytonhudson

location: hannah’s house

timeframe: Jan 10 midnight-ish. 

warnings: none. 

notes: it’s a sleepover. they’re obviously in their underwear and having pillow fights. 

hannah

Hannah stepped out of her large shower and wrapped herself in a towel, she'd piled her hair on top of her head, figuring it could wait to be washed until tomorrow, before stepping out of her bathroom and into her adjoining bedroom, where Peyton had already started making herself at home. "Is this an open a bottle of wine kind of night, or are you actually tired?" She asked, unfazed by her presence in the room. She crossed over to her dresser and removed the towel, patting the remaining droplets from her arms and legs before throwing on a tshirt and pair of booty shorts.

peyton

Peyton was mid pulling a t-shirt over her head when she heard Hannah’s familiar voice, “Every night is an open a bottle of wine kind of night.” She replies with a slight smile as she climbs on into the same side of the bed she’s slept on for the last eight years. “I’m definitely not tired.” Without Lexi home, and without Puck in her own bed it was apparently far too easy for Peyton to do everything besides sleep. There was a tendency to overthink that came when she was by herself.  Sighing she props herself up on the pillow with her elbow to watch as Hannah got herself ready to join her. “As it turns out, I hate going to sleep by myself these days. Go figure.” She comments with a shrug before pausing and smirking. “Sooo... how was Micah? You’ve seen him twice in two days, that has to mean something.”

hannah

Hearing confirmation that wine was necessary, Hannah stepped out into the kitchen and opened a bottle of red and a couple of mugs, because no one wanted to worry about precarious wine glasses while having a snug-sesh, and brought everything back into the room. "I knew it." She said, setting everything down on the dresser and pouring two generous helpings. "I knew you were going to get all Peyton on me over Micah." She handed Peyton her mug and slipped into the bed next to her with a shrug. "He's just easy, we have good chemistry in bed, he's no frills but always gets me off, and if he's not tired he can get really into what I like." She took a generous sip of her wine. "But there's nothing more than physical there."

peyton

Feigning shock, Peyton takes the mug of wine and sits herself up in the bed just enough to bring the drink to her lips. “I am not going all Peyton on you, that’s not even a thing, thank you very much!” She says jokingly, though with the knowledge she may have had a habit of reading too much into Hannah’s sexual encounters in the past. “But chemistry in bed, can lead to chemistry in... other places. I’m just saying. And Micah is a nice boy.” After taking another,  larger, sip, Peyton places the mug next to her and bites down on her lip for a second as she snakes her arm around Hannah’s shoulders, tugging her in towards her side and squeezing tightly. “I’m not sorry, I haven’t seen you in three weeks, you have to deal with my tight hugs.... Don’t spill your wine on me though, this shirt isn’t technically mine and if it smells like wine it’s going to be hard to return it and pretend like he’s just misplaced it for a few days.”

hannah

"Perhaps if he ever grows up, or at the very least changes his sheets more than once a month, I'd consider it, but until then, he's just a fuck buddy, plain and simple." Hannah leaned into the hug, secretly loving when Peyton got all lovey dovey like this. Though she did clutch her wine mug protectively. "I seriously doubt Puck cares if you have his shirt." She teased. "Speaking of which, enough about my sex life! You're really going to talk to him?"

peyton

Groaning playfully she pulls away from her bestie’s side, “But your sex life is sooo much more exciting than my life at the moment.” Actually always. It’s something Peyton had always admired about Hannah, the way she was so bold and carefree when it came to putting herself out there, while still being one of the most independent and caring people she knew. “Yeah... I’ll talk to him. I just hate talking about that night. And what if bringing everything up again when there’s finally a small resemblance of normality just ruins us all over again?” She admits, hating that a night which was her decision was still something she had to think about. “Would it be weird to just... do it over text?”

hannah

Taking another sip, Hannah nodded. "Peyton, you have to trust him to be able to handle an adult conversation if you ever want to actually be able to move past this. Look at it this way, would you rather constantly have this thing between you, forever, while pretending to feel normal, or would you rather know that you genuinely put yourself out there and fought for him, regardless of the outcome, and have an actual chance at a real, healthy, functional relationship with him." She knew she was slipping into therapist mode, it was a habit she found hard to break unless she was naked. "I think face to face is better, but if you can only handle it through text, then.... at least that's something?"

peyton

After this long, Peyton had accepted that sometimes when she spoke to Hannah she didn’t just have a best friend, she had a therapist. And right now the therapist was actually a welcome addition to the conversation. Sighing, she picks up her mug and takes a few gulps before replying. “Don’t use the word relationship to Puck.” She chuckles sadly, her fingers circling on the side of the cup. “But you’re right. You know, I hate that you’re always right sometimes. I will be an adult and talk to him about it face to face... That way if it gets really bad I’ll just get naked.” Peyton was half joking, but sometimes when it came to serious conversations it paid to really know the other person. “Seriously though... Can you not go away for that long again? It’s like you leaving just causes a domino effect of stress in my life, and talking to you on facetime is just not the same.” Peyton puts the mug back down and frowns a little as she lays down into the bed and rests her head in Hannah’s lap. “Never again, okay? You can have a fantasy threesome here.”

hannah

With a sigh and a smile, Hannah took one more generous sip of wine and put her own mug down, turning her attention to playing with Peyton's hair. "I promise, never again. From now on, a week TOPS, even if I have to fly back and forth to take care of you between holidays." She smiled fondly at Peyton. "What else do you need to tell me about? Something's happening with KJ?" She asked, her finger combing lightly through Peyton's soft hair. She knew how close the other girl was to her brothers, and she knew it must be killing her that KJ was mad at her, no matter the reason. Though she couldn't really think of anything Peyton had ever done to make anyone in her family mad before, so it must have been something big.

peyton

Peyton’s eyes flutter shut as Hannah’s fingers comb lightly through her hair, it was a comfort she felt like she’d needed for three weeks. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.” She responds softly, and eyes squeezing tighter at the mention of her little brother. It was a topic she’d tried not to talk about, even more so than the one with Puck. KJ was her blood and her whole life it had just been her and her brothers. “KJ had... something happen to him.” Peyton begins to tell her, feeling a lump in her throat growing saying the words out loud. “I didn’t know how to cope, so I told someone... I know it wasn’t my story to tell, but he’s my brother, you know? Every time I thought about everything I couldn’t breathe and I needed to breathe again. But KJ doesn’t see it like that, he just sees it as me betraying his trust?” She shrugs. “I don’t know... I have no idea how you deal with other people’s problems all the time. It’s draining.”

hannah

Hannah breathed a laugh at Peyton's last statement. "Well, for one, I don't become emotionally attached to my clients, it's a lot harder when it's someone I love." She kept her hand moving through Peyton's hair. "And as for KJ, I can pretty much guarantee you he's not really mad at you, oftentimes when we are feeling lost or overwhelmed by emotions or situations we can't control, we take it out on the people we love. It's easier for him to be mad at you than at himself, or at whoever actually deserves it, because he knows that no matter what, you will always love him and be there for him. His anger, as misplaced as it is, is his subconscious way of telling you he trusts you with it." She really needed to get ahold on not turning into a therapist with her friends. "Give him some time and a little space, when you feel the time is right, just remind him that you love him, and you're sorry for overstepping a boundary."

peyton

“See, this is just another reason you’re not allowed to leave me.” Peyton turns into her lap to look up at her best friend, quickly wiping the loose tear from her eye. “I clearly can’t function without you.” She tells her with a sad smile and reaches up to bop her nose. There were perks to having someone constantly in her life who knew human emotions much better than she ever could. “Tell me something exciting about your life to make me feel better... And it can’t be about Micah because I already know all about that.”

hannah

"Hey..." Hannah frowned, she knew Peyton had missed her, but the idea of her being so upset, she'd never imagined the other girl needed her this much. Or maybe, she told herself, it just happened to be a rough few weeks and it had nothing to do with you not being around. Either way, she shifted, wrapping her arms around Peyton and pulling her in so her head rested on her chest, Hannah pressed a kiss to the top of her taking, taking in that Peyton smell. "I promise I won't leave for that long again." She said, holding out her pinky so Peyton could take it without moving. Then she sighed, trying to think of something exciting, to her, life was pretty standard. "Well, you know about my holiday threesome, and you know about Micah, and... that's been pretty much it..." She tried to think of maybe something non-sexual. "Oh! Did I tell you one of my cousins lit himself on fire with my Nana's birthday cake?"

peyton

With the kiss to her head, Peyton felt like she could finally relax into the girl’s embrace, all the talk about feelings was done, and with Hannah here she didn’t have to overthink everything. Hannah was, and has been for a long time, her logical voice of reason. “You don’t know this, but there’s a secret recording device in here that i’m going to bring out if you decide to go again.” She joked, extending her pinky to link with her friend’s. She wrapped her arms around her, and settles comfortably into her chest. “Oh my god! Honestly? Really glad it wasn’t your nana. At 102 the last thing she needs is to get lit on her birthday.” Peyton laughed to herself, finding amusement in her own terrible jokes. “Thanks for ditching a boy’s bed for me tonight.”

hannah

Hannah chuckled softly. “And here you are threatening to straight up move away from me.” She teased, giving Peyton’s arms a squeeze. “Trust me, if you added up all of the hair product my Nana has used over the course of her entire 102 years, it still wouldn’t be half as much as this kid had in his hair. You ask me, he had it coming.” She laughed. “But he’s fine! His eyebrow should grow back eventually.” Shaking her head, Hannah opted not to remind Peyton that she had been planning on leaving Micah’s anyways because they did not do sleepovers. “Anytime, babe.” She said instead.

peyton

“Shhh, you’re coming with me, we’ve established that. Give me three to five years to convince you.” She chuckled tiredly. Her head shook against Hannah as she imagined one of the girl’s cousins suddenly with no eyebrows. “When I move to LA I’m determined to meet every single one of your cousins. They’re all stuck with me,” Peyton tells as her eyes start to feel heavy now — possibly from the wine, though more likely as a result of no longer feeling alone. “You know you’re always welcome to crash at my place... if you’re feeling lonely, that is. mi casa es su casa. My shower isn’t as good, but I have the best tub around.”

hannah

Closing her eyes, Hannah just let Peyton relax into her arms, her thumb grazing gently over the soft skin of the girl's arm. "My family will love you as much as I do." She said softly, not mentioning the fact that she had already talked their collective ears off about her best friend, showing them pictures and everything. She rarely felt lonely at night, honestly preferring to sleep alone, but it did make her feel warm and safe that Peyton was willing to offer.

[noahsfreckles]

Keeping Secrets from Strangers (12)

I drive home and I see someone sitting on my steps and then I spot her car. Lexi. I pull into the driveway and grab my Starbucks and Target bag. I get out and she stands up.

"Mia. I um," she starts.

"Not out here. Come inside," I say and she helps me with the door and follows me up to my room.

We get to my room and I drop off my bags on my chair and set my Starbucks on my side table. I turn and look at her, "come in."

She slowly walks over to me, I hug her tightly and we both start crying and apologizing back and forth. We break apart and sit in the bed next to each other.

"I am so sorry, Mia. I should have told you when I figured everything out." 

"Lexi it's okay. I don't know why I took it so hard on you when all you were doing was helping the situation out."

"I'm still sorry."

"I saw them."

"What? Where? Did you talk?"

I shake my head. "I've been in this room all week and I decided today was enough I was going out so I went to get some things at Target and they were there getting shaving cream and they were talking about us."

"What did they say?" She bites her nail.

"Kyle told Noah about you calling him when you were wasted the other night and he stayed with you till you fell asleep."

"Yeah the night was bad," she frowns and looks at me, "Are you okay now?"

I nod and hug her tight. "I love you Lexi."

"I love you too Mia."

"Wanna hear something kinda funny?"

"Yeah."

"Noah stole my phone case I was planning on buying."

"He what?" She looks at me and laughs a little.

"Yeah, when I was spying on them, I left my cart in an aisle and when they walked to the front, I guess Noah saw the case, he asked Kyle if he sees anyone and he didn't cause hiding," I laugh a little, "and he took it cause 'Mia would like this'."

Lexi laughs and says, "I guess it's pay back for stealing his hat. Where is it?" She looks on the side table.

"I um got mad and tossed it on the floor after I found out and it's been there ever since."

Lexi looks behind her and gets up and picks it up, putting it between us. "Have you talked to them or anything?"

I shake my head. "I've tweeted lyrics and emo stuff and posted a pic today but neither of them have said anything to me and I haven't either. Kyle is on a 'socials vacation' and Noah posts tweets and pics like me."

She nods. "Do you think you can forgive them?"

"I think, I can its just hard with Noah. He hurt me so much and I lost my best friend. Well I guess Noah was my best friend but I didn't know. I still miss Jamey."

"Babe, Noah is Jamey."

"I know but I felt like I could be so open with Jamey about stuff, I like him more than a friend and I find out he's not even real. It hurts."

"He does exist. He's just Noah. The guy who you didn't have a crush on and only wanted to be his best friend. Honey, you got best friend and more."

"Yeah, it just hurts."

"He hurting too, don't forget that. He lost his best friend too and his maybe more too."

I frown and look up at Lexi. "He did have one of those three packs of tissues when I saw them."

"He's miserable."

"I saw them a second time today and did something nice so they know I don't totally hate them."

"What did you do?"

"They left Target before I did and we got to Starbucks, I somehow got ahead of them and went first in the drive thru and I paid for them, told Jackie to them it was from pinky."

"Aww you care," she teases.

"Yeah that's my problem."

"Now Kyle."

"What about him?"

"He's obviously next and he can be our spy." She nudges me and laughs.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. Today is about us."

"Promise?"

"Yes, but I may need some help."

"Always here for you."

"And that's why I love you."

We spend the rest of the night talking about everything. I did get a tweet from both of them on Noah's account for the Starbucks which I appreciated.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Later the next day, Lexi and I are at Starbucks and she had called Kyle to meet her, I wasn't part of the hanging out. I was going to be there as a surprise to him. She told him to be here at two, so Noah wouldn't be able to come, we were informed that he would be at a meeting.

At two on the dot the door opens and walks in Kyle, a little down but smiles. He looks over at Lexi and then sees me sitting by the wall.

"Do you want me to go? I don't wanna ruin anything."

I move the chair in front of me with my foot towards him, telling him to sit without saying anything. He hesitates but sits down. He looks at Lexi then at me then back at Lexi.

"Lexi has asked you today Kyle to come here because I would like to have you back as my friend," I say and look at him.

"Your friend?"

"I mean I can go back to hating you if that's what you want. Is it?"

"No!" He says a little loud and I giggle a little. "I want you back Mia so bad."

"So bad huh?" I tease and laugh at him.

"Can I hug you?"

I nod and move out of my seat, he moves to grab me and hugs me tight and spins us around.

"Kyle," I start giggling.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," he says and he stop spinning us.

"I think I have some idea."

"I missed you so much. I missed talking to you and teasing you about um, yeah."

"He's not Lord Voldemort, you can say his name, either one of them," I say and look at Kyle.

"Yeah," Kyle says. "He really misses you."

We sit back down so we can talk.

"And I miss him too but he hurt me, so bad Kyle."

"So you don't forgive him?"

"I'm getting closer, I see why he didn't tell me sooner. But it still hurts."

"Okay. I understand. Take all the time you need. Do you want me to not tell him we're friends again?"

"You can tell him I don't mind."

"When did you two make up?"

"Last night she showed up at my house. Honestly," I turn to Lexi, "I don't know if I would have had enough courage to call her, so I'm glad you confronted me." I turn towards Kyle, "but if either of you had done that I would have just left and not talked to you, so don't give him any ideas."

"My mouth is shut," he pretends to zip it.

Lexi and I laugh and shake our heads.

"God I've missed you Kyle," I say and smile at him.

"Do you think you can forgive him by Saturday?"

"What's Saturday?" They both look at me, "what?"

"Valentine's Day," Kyle says.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Lexi says.

"I didn't even notice all the candy on Monday when I was at Target."

"I knew it!" Kyle says scaring us.

"Knew what? And stop being loud," I giggle.

"I knew I saw you and your Jeep."

"Saw me?"

"Yeah, you're not as sneaky as you think and no Noah didn't see you or at least hasn't said anything. You were watching us from the make up aisle. I kept see your ball on your beanie move out of the corner of my eye."

"Damn ball," I say sadly.

"Don't be sad, babe. I knew it was you and didn't wanna make a scene with all of us so I didn't say anything. And when we were going out to Noah's Jeep, I swore you were parked in our same section. When we were at Starbucks, you confirmed it by paying for us."

I look at Kyle and laugh. "I suck at spying."

"Speaking of spying," Lexi says and looks at Kyle.

"Okay I will."

"And we love you for it."

Kyle phone dings and he looks at it and is eyes go wide. "You gotta go Mia!"

"What?"

"Noah says he's on his way here then he's coming to my house."

"He could go through the drive thru...?"

"He hates going through it alone. He's weird."

I laugh. "I'll just go hide in the bathroom like I always do when I hide from guys."

My phone dings and I quickly look at it. "He posted something on IG." I quickly unlock my phone and look. 

                Going to our spot & it hurts so bad. 💔

I groan and show them as I look out the window. "He's here." I quickly run to the restroom without my phone.

I peak out and see them all talking when I see Noah pick up my phone. "Shit," I whisper to myself. I see Lexi look over at the door and bite her lip.

"She's here, isn't she?" I hear Noah say. I bite my lip and look at Lexi and shake my head no.

She looks away from me and says, "yes."

"She hates me so much, shes hiding from me. Wow, I'm just gonna go so she can come out and keep on hating me."  He walks over to the counter,  grabs a water from the cooler and pays and leaves. He doesn't say bye to Lexi or Kyle, he just leaves.

I slowly make my way out and sit down by Lexi and look at her and start crying. She hugs me automatically and Kyle comes over and hugs me too. "I-I-I don't hate him it just hurts so much."

"We know honey," Kyle says and hugs me tighter. He slowly pulls away, "I better go and make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Okay. I don't hate him. You can tell him, you know if you want to."

"I'll let him know. And think about Valentine's Day."

I nod and move away from Lexi to hug him when he stands up. "You're a great friend, Kyle don't ever forget that."

"You are too Mia. Try to feel better," he kisses my cheek and I smile. "Bye."

He walks away and goes out to his car to find Noah.

"That could have gone a lot worse," I say after Kyle leaves.

"Yeah, he could have confronted you in the restrooms," Lexi says and I laugh.

"Awkward."

Lexi smirks and I laugh.

"Let's leave dork."

We head out and go back to my house for a little while until Lexi goes home.

[keeloves]

MY Top 10 Worst Male Characters

 Keep in mind this just my personal opinion! I would love to hear your thoughts but please keep them civil and respectful. Kicking off the list at number 10

10 Jake Salt (Famous in Love)

Don’t get me wrong he is super cute/hot but ugh he freaking irks me! First of all he treats girls like crap, he is emotionally needy and as Paige put “Nothing is ever his fault” He slept with Lexi to try and get his script published into a movie. He slept with her for several days and when once he realized that wasn’t happening he got pissed off blamed her and then he ghosted Lexi. Yeah, I know what an asshole. He confesses his “love” for Paige at a press conference right after Rainer had a severe melt down. Then once he gets with Paige he treats her like crap and is emotionally abusive. He doesn’t move into the house she bought, he didn’t stick up for her when she said no to shots but instead helped pressured her into doing shots of tequila and she ended up getting so drunk that she ended up missing her screen test and he didn’t defend her when she was being ripped to shreds by a producer guy. Skip to like 5:28 and watch until 7:16. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYMVnvjcfpY&t=7s This video was made by my dear friend @disneyfanforever3 This clip pretty much sums up why I can’t stand Jake. I am so happy Paige called him out on his bullshit.

9. Sinbad (Sinbad from Legends of the Seven Seas) 

First of all he doesn’t deserve to have this movie named after him because he is a terrible protagonist. He speaks disrespectfully to women, and just ugh! He is okay letting his friend Proteus die for a crime he did not commit and and Sinbad would run off to Fiji fully knowing his friend Proteus that he has known since CHILDHOOD would be dead as long as he can run off to Fiji. Proteus said to Sinbad while taking his place “I know you would do the same for me” and Sinbad’s reply is “No I wouldn’t” like ugh dude you aren’t that loyal! So Marina is the real hero of the movie. In fact I go a little more into detail on why I hate Sinbad. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhD6mbhLJpY&lc=z23iz1vpsv3kyla3xacdp430q55un5sqk3m3zmlonvhw03c010c

8.Oliver Queen (Arrow)

I have ranted on him several times so I will try to keep this brief! He is a womanizing manwhore. He serial cheated on his girlfriend Laurel with basically every woman including her sister Sara. He did nothing to make the situation better. This pic I used of him is him flirting with Sara at the Lance family dinner and this is the moment where I wanted to punch him in the face! Ugh god he is the worst. He cheated so much that he fathered a child. He abandon Thea after she got out of the Lazurus pit all so he could play house with Felicity and he constantly goes back and forth on his no kill rule. Oh and this Oliver is a knock off version of Bruce Wayne and he is a complete 180 of who he should be.

7. Mon El (Supergirl)

I hate Mon El so much! He lied to Kara about who he was on Daxam yes I know Kara was judgmental at first but Mon El just planned to keep her in the dark the entire time of their relationship. He owned slaves and did nothing to correct the issue he just chose to stay with Kara. He called Kara his kryptonite which is something that can kill her literally so bleh! He disrespected Kara at every moment she tried to help him. He beat up another Aileen for money and he is so selfish. In fact how here is Kara chewing out Mon El’s ass out! Its very satisfying like “Paige Townsen Nothing’s ever your fault speech to Jake.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnHZInGzQ4w

6. Moses Puloki Dance Teacher (Lilo and Stitch)

A while back I made a list of my most annoying cartoon characters and he is number one on the most annoying cartoon characters list. I put him on this list because he is an adult who lets Mrytle get away with bullying Lilo. He sees it happening before his very eyes and he does nothing to stop it and instead it always Lilo’s fault. He never asks for Lilo’s side of the story and he just assumes Lilo is at fault when she beats up Mrytle. At least that is how it feels. I have never once seen him say anything to Mrytle or her possy that follow her around. To me he is my least favorite character from Lilo and Stitch and it makes me wonder why he is a teacher in the first place.

5. Thomas Humprey aka Humps (Orange is the New Black

He is an abliest piece of shit. He caused a fight all for a stupid bet. He gas lit Suzanne Warren aka Crazy Eyes and she said repeatitly she didn’t want to fight. The other gaurds are terrible because they went along with is bullshit and because of him this Suzanne beat the hell out of this other woman who also appeared to be mentally unstable because the other woman was insulting Suzanne. Suzanne beat up this other woman so much that this girl was bleeding and her face was bruised up. Two other inmates had to get Suzanne off of this other inmate. Yet all Humps did was laugh and said “Well I just made $20 bucks” Suzanne is left to cry and feel ashamed for something he started! He is so terrible he makes Pornstache look like a saint.

4. Pablo Money (Famous in Love)

He is emotionally and phyically abusive He stole Jordan’s IPad and accused Tangey of cheating. He treats Tangey like an object to be had and he kicked the door of the room where Tangey was hiding. He is possessive,manipulative and ugh! I also put him on the list because he treats my favorite character on the show like shit.

3. Every Itteration of Harrison Wells (The Flash)

I have gone on ar ant about why I hate this character so I will kep this brief as I can. The only Wells I will put up with are The original Earth 1 Wells Eowells (Season1) and Harry Wells. This character is boring, he is played out and he is just there to take up space and be a boring whtie character that Cisco has to play glorified baby sitter too. EoWells is terrible because he killed Barry’s mom, he killed Cisco and when Cisco remembers EoWells laughs in his face. Harry is awful, he faked an illness to guilt Wally into not moving in with Jesse knowing full Well that is how Francine West (Wally and Iris’s mother) died. He chokes Cisco, he also breaks Cisco’s things and never offers to fix them and he is just an ass wipe. The rest of the Wells are annoying because we don’t need anymore Wells and Sherloque Wells has annoying accent.

2. Ezra Fitz (Pretty Little Liars)

I have also ranted on him a lot as well so bare with me. He stalked teenage girls, he got with Aria knowing full well she was going to be his student and knowing she was underage. He framed Spencer for something she didn’t do and because she was on to him. He stole her files and gave it to Aria which by the way is illegal to do. Then again what does this man care about what law he breaks he is all ready guilty of statutory rape, stalking and violating privacy. He hooked up with Alison and he should have gone to prison but instead he gets to live happily ever after with Aria. He ends up marrying Aria. Yeap that’s right folks he married the girl he groomed and stalked and manipulated. He even trapped her on a Ferris wheel. 

1. Damon Salvotore (The Vampier

Ugh just thinking about him makes nauseated. He is abusive, manipulative and he ruined hi brother’s life and stole his girl and he is part of the reason why I have a hard time getting into the show. Damon is a serial rapist and serial killer. He raped Caroline, fed off of her and terrified her. He kills people Elena cares about just because she isn’t giving him what he wants. Man if Damon wants something he better get it now or else. I bet he is terrible in bed because three girls have bragged about how good Stephan is in bed and Damon only brags about himself. I say he is terrible because if he wasn’t he wouldn’t have to compel girls to sleep with him. He killed a pregnant woman this means he also killed a baby. He has no remorse for any of these things and he just relies on Elena to change him. The only time I can deal with him is when he is around Bonnie! Ugh I hate this character! He needs to trade places with Stephan and now the fact that Delena have kids together make me want to throw up my insides because it makes my skin crawl knowing Damon would father a child. Plus I think Ian Somerholder though he seems nice is not all that great of an actor.

[mldrgrl]

Do you take prompts? I have this idea rattling around in my brain and you are one of my favorite fanfic writers so here goes. Its a season 8 finale AU where Mulder and Scully raise William. William is going to his senior prom and Scully teaches him how to dance. Mulder watches from a distance, they don't know he's watching them, and then after a while Mulder comes over to "cut in".

Yes, I do take prompts.  My vision went a little differently from yours, but I hope it’s still what you want!  I set it in my Little Will universe because it could slide in there pretty easily after They Grow Up So Fast.  (And, in all honestly, will probably make more sense if you read that first)

Title: How’s About a DanceAuthor: mldrgrlRating: PGSummary: see above :D

One of the most exasperating ways that Will was like his mother, Mulder decided, was his habit of not saying anything when there was a lot to say.  Like Scully, he had this habit of evading topics and trying to make his poor father guess at what he was thinking.  But, after eleven years of being the kid’s father, and almost twenty at being Scully’s partner, he’d finally picked up a few tricks.

Number one, neither of them could stand being ignored.  When they said “I’m fine,” needling or arguing about it got him nowhere.  Shrugging his shoulders and feigning disinterest could open the floodgates.

Number two, do not ask direct questions.  Don’t ever ask what’s wrong, don’t ever ask for more information.  Wait for them to start, pepper the conversation with things like “oh?” or “yeah?”  Simple, one-word responses kept things going.

Number three, and this one was tricky, do not offer advice without being asked.  Nothing could shut down a conversation faster than a well-meaning “maybe you should…”

And so, Mulder was pretty well-prepared when Will came poking around in his office, pretending to quietly browse the books on the shelves while casting less-than-furtive glances in his dad’s direction.  Mulder continued working on his article and ignored his son.  He wasn’t really ignoring him though.  In fact, he’d typed the same sentence more than once because he couldn’t really focus knowing something was wrong and not knowing what it was.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” Will asked.

“New article on the myths of the Salem witch trials,” Mulder answered.

“Cool.”  Will nodded and ran his index finger along the side edge of Mulder’s desk.  “Can we go to Salem one day?”

“Sure.”

“Cool.  Oh hey, I got a 95 on my vocab test.”

“What’d you miss?”

“Utmost versus upmost.”

“Thought you knew that one.”

“I did, until both sentences made total sense.

“You can’t ace ‘em all, pal.”

Will sighed.  “Ruined my streak though, which really pi…ticks me off.”

“Yeah, I hear ya.”

Will turned and ran his finger the opposite way along Mulder’s desk.  Missing a question or two on a test always annoyed Will, but Mulder knew that wasn’t the problem.  He typed some more and then studied his scribblings on one of his notepads.  

“So, um,” Will said.  “Sixth grade is kinda different.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you know, the different classes and stuff.  All the different teachers.”

“Sure.”  Mulder nodded, glanced at Will, and then flipped the page over on his notepad.  Now, they were getting somewhere.  Something to do with school, maybe a teacher, maybe a bully, but definitely school.

“And they do stuff, you know, like dances and stuff.”

Aha!  “Yeah, I remember those.”

“Do you?”

Mulder looked at Will over the top of his glasses.  “I’m not that old, son.”

“I mean, I didn’t know you had dances in school.  You never said.”

“Guess I didn’t think about it.”

“Oh.”  Will chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, the same way his mother did when she was trying to formulate a thought.

Mulder itched to ask him to elaborate.  He missed the days when he could pull the boy onto his lap and tickle the trouble away.  Growing up was a bittersweet thing.  As much as he loved seeing his son mature, he also missed the silly, cuddly little toddler he once was.  And the days where the most complicated problem to solve was a broken crayon.

The conversation stalled, so Mulder took a chance.  “When is it?” he asked.

“When is what?”

“The dance.”

“Oh.  Um, next Friday.”

“Well, if you need me to sign a permission slip to attend, I’ll sign it.  As long as your homework’s done.”

“Da-ad.”  Will rolled his eyes a little.

“What?”

“I always do my homework.”

“I know you do.”

There was a lull in the conversation again, but Mulder felt more confident there was more to come and he wouldn’t have to prompt Will any further.  Sure enough, the silence that followed was short-lived.

“I’m gonna ask Lexi to go with me,” Will blurted out, his voice a little higher than normal.  

All things considered, Mulder’s first thought was that he deserved an award for keeping the expression on his face so neutral.  He was both laughing and crying inside, but he couldn’t let it show.  He bobbed his head a little awkwardly for a few moments and had to clear his throat before his voice would work.

“That’s great, buddy.”

“I mean, you know…”  Will dropped his eyes and scratched at the corner of Mulder’s desk.  “Some of the guys think it’s kind of lame.”

Cody Prescott, probably, Mulder thought.  With his fucking bowtie.  “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

Will chewed his lip again and Scully’s look of distress came over his face.  “It’s just that, I don’t know how to dance, you know?  I don’t want to look stupid and I don’t want Lexi to think I’m lame.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“Come on, come with me.”  

Mulder pulled his glasses off, threw his notepad down on his desk and stood.  He put his hand on Will’s shoulder and steered him out the door towards the living room.  When he’d gone into his office that morning, Scully had been engrossed with something on her tablet as she lounged on the couch.  She was still there, still engrossed, but she looked up when Mulder and Will shuffled in.

“We need you,” Mulder said, holding his hand out to his wife and beckoning her up from the couch.

“I told you,” she said, batting his hand away.  “You’re on your own for lunch, I’ll broil the salmon for dinner.”

“It’s not about lunch.”

“Is this a trick?”  She shot a skeptical eyebrow up and looked from Mulder to Will.

Mulder grabbed her hand and gave it a tug.  “Get over here, Scully.”

Scully let Mulder pull her to her feet.  He locked their fingers together and held her hand up high by her shoulder before he set his other hand on her hip and walked her backwards, away from the couch.

“First lesson, Will,” Mulder said.  “Never look at your feet.  You look at your feet, it’s over.”

“What are we doing?” Scully asked.

“The boy wonder over there is in need of some dance lessons.”

“Why is he in need of dance lessons?”

“He has a dance to go to.”

“A dance?”  Scully tried to break free from Mulder, but he squeezed her hand and pulled her closer, shaking his head a little.

“Watch and learn, junior.”

Mulder swayed Scully slowly.  She was distracted, trying to look past him at Will, but he would purposefully shift and block her view.  Finally, he took his hand off her hip and brushed a curled finger under her chin to get her attention.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Mulder reiterated.  “Keep your eyes on your partner.  It’ll help you not to get tripped up and the view is much nicer.”

Scully rolled her eyes, but fortunately her back was to Will.  Mulder winked at him and danced them back away from the couch, then forward again.

“Your job is to lead and trust her to follow,” Mulder said, dancing them closer to Will.

Will had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he watched his father’s feet.  His arm was slightly up, wrist tipped back and fingers spread and curved like he was holding an invisible hand.  He shuffled back and forth with small steps next to the couch, moving without going anywhere.  Mulder let go of Scully’s hip and turned her away from him.  When his arm cleared her head and she was facing Will, he released her hand and stepped away.

“Your turn, buddy,” Mulder said.

“What?” Will asked, blinking up at Mulder.

“Can’t learn without trying.  Dance with your mom.”

“Da-ad.”  Will’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment.

“Hey,” Scully said, putting her hand up for Will to take.  “I happen to be an excellent partner.”

“She is,” Mulder agreed.  “The best of the best.  How can you dance with Lexi if you can’t even dance with mom?”

“Lexi!”  Scully smiled broadly as Will ducked his head.  “Did you ask Lexi to the dance?”

“Yeah,” Will mumbled.  “You don’t have to make a big deal about it.”

“No one’s making a big deal about anything,” Mulder said, shaking his head at Scully in warning.  He took Will’s hand and put it on Scully’s hip and brought Scully’s hand to Will’s shoulder.  The boy was still slightly smaller than Scully by about two inches, but he had Mulder’s lankiness which implied he was going to shoot up soon.

“Now what?”  Will’s arms were stiff and straight.  He was standing too far from Scully, but he looked wary of moving closer.

“Relax,” Mulder said, shaking Will’s arms from behind him to loosen him up.  When that didn’t work, he tickled his sides, which caused him to break apart and laugh.  He drew his arms into his sides to protect himself from the assault and Mulder hugged him from behind for a brief moment and patted his arms.

Scully cleared her throat, arms still in a dance frame.  “I believe I’m owed a dance here.”

Will put his hand back on Scully’s hip and laced his fingers with hers.  He was much more relaxed the second time around and not so stiff.

“Do I have to get all close and stuff?” Will asked.

“No,” Mulder said.  “You can dance closer when you’re…taller.”

Scully chuckled.  

“Do I step forward or backward?” Will asked.

“Try forward to start with,” Mulder answered.  “Remember, look at your partner, not at your feet.  Lead with your eyes.  Be confident.”

Will hesitantly moved his feet, second-guessing every step he took.  Scully tried to follow his lead, but it didn’t work so well when he didn’t know where he was going.  They stepped on each other’s feet several times and Will kept apologizing, his cheeks growing pinker by the second.  

“I suck at this,” Will declared.

“It’s your first dance,” Mulder said.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“You’re doing great,” Scully added, laughing when Will tripped into her before she even finished the compliment.

Will laughed along with Scully, giving up on letting his stumbles bother him.  They more they both laughed, the less he messed up.  He finally grinned when a full minute passed without him stepping on one of Scully’s feet.

“I think I can do it!” Will cried.

Mulder tapped on his son’s shoulder.  “May I cut in?” he asked.

“That means you want to dance with mom too, right?”

“Sure does.”

Wil stopped, but his brows came together as he let Scully’s hand go.  “If some guy asks if he can cut in and you don’t want him to, what do you say?”

“Depends on how good your aim is,” Mulder answered.

“Mulder!” Scully scolded, smacking him on the arm as he wrapped them around her waist.  She turned to Will even as she swayed in Mulder’s arms.  “The best thing to do would be to ask your partner if she minds.  Leave it up to her.”

“What if she says okay?”

“Cut back in on the next one,” Mulder said.  “Pray that the other guy has two left feet.”

“I’m gonna go practice.”  Will put his arms up and danced his way out of the room.

“Lexi?” Scully asked when Will was out of earshot.  “He asked her?  She said yes?”

“Seems so.”

“Hm.”  

“Something wrong?”

“Well, you know, I don’t want it to ruin their friendship.”

Mulder groaned.  “Where have I heard that argument before?”

“It’s important to think about.”

“It’s a school dance.  Besides, you know, Mulder men like the slow burn.  We only make moves every seven years.”

Scully tipped her head back and her brows lifted.  “Are you insinuating that you made the first move?”

“You were just picking up on all the signals I was sending.”

“Sure.”

“How are you feeling?”

Scully moved a hand down to her abdomen and splayed her fingers over the small bump low on her belly that had only recently begun to show.  “Not as queasy as I was this morning.  The crackers helped.”

“Mm.”  Mulder put his hand over Scully’s and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.

“I think we should tell Will after the next appointment.”

“That’s the ultrasound?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t wait until this one’s ready for his or her first school dance to do this again, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.”

Mulder curled his fingers through Scully’s and brought her hand up to kiss the underside of her wrist.  She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes as they continued to dance.

The End

[lokirogersgirl]

Happiest Fucking Man

Characters: Negan x Reader

Summary: The reader is pregnant, but she gets into a fight with Negan. Causing her to question if she should tell him.

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, sadness, regret, all that fun stuff :)

“Does he know about the baby?” My best friend Lexie whispered.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. “No.. God, I don’t know what to do. Do I tell him? What if he hates me Lex?” She chuckled sarcastically, “Are you kidding? That man is madly in love with you! You saw how he was when he saw you talking to Simon! He freaked the fuck out.” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

I sat with Lexie in our room, she was sitting and drawing something on a notepad. I sat across from her, rocking back and forth with shaky hands. The loud pounding on the door scared me, causing me to gasp quietly.

“Oh doll! You in there, hun?” Negan’s velvet voice spoke.

I looked up at Lexie, my eyes wide. “What do I say?” I mouthed to her frantically. She shrugged and motioned to go to the door. I stood up, slowly walking over to the door. I took a deep breath and opened the door. He graced me with a toothy grin, I gave him a half smile. He furrowed his brows, “Not excited to see me?”

I looked down, shaking my head. “No, no. I missed you.” He smirked, grabbing my hand and pulling me against him. He leaned close, tipping my head up with his thumb he pressed a passion fueled kiss to my lips. I kissed him back eagerly, the nerves going away with every second.

“C’mere doll, I got somethin’ to  fuckin’ talk to ya’ about.” He whispered in my ear. Looking back at Lexie once more, she gave me a thumbs up and winked. I turned back and followed Negan back to his room. When we got inside he asked me to sit down. I could tell trouble was brewing, and I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t scaring me. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking down. “So.. I know this is gonna be fuckin’ hard as shit, but It’s gotta happen.” I looked up, completely dumbfounded. “What’s gotta happen?” He stalled, looking around the room. “I gotta go sweetheart.” I raised an eyebrow, standing up. “Go where, Negan.” My tone was one he recognized. Disappointment. Anger. Resentment.

“Simon and I gotta go on a stupid fuckin’ run. It’s about a week.. Or two..” My blood boiled at his statement. “No.”  I said. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, doll. I have to-”

“NO. No, Negan! I am not doing this shit with you again. I can’t. Not again.” My voice cracked, I looked at my stomach. I could tell he was getting angry as he scoffed. “You don’t get a fucking say in the matter, sugar.” I chuckled angrily, “Oh really? Negan you're not fucking leaving. I’m not gonna say it again.” My voice was getting louder by the second.

“Oh my fucking- Jesus, Y/N! Stop being such a fucking bitch! I am leaving, that's the end of it.” He snapped at me. I could feel the venom from his words shoot right into my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes. My hands shook in fear and anger.

Last time Negan went on a run he came back with a gunshot in his shoulder from Rick. He promised he wouldn’t leave me again, and he wouldn’t get hurt. I asked him to not go on runs anymore, and he promised. He promised me.

“You.. You made a fucking promise Negan! You said it yourself, you’re a man of your word.” He bit his lip, his persona breaking for a moment before coming back. “Yah well, I guess you don’t always get what you want, princess.” I broke down in tears, sitting back down on his bed.

His eyes scanned my shaking frame. My heart shattered at the sound of the door opening, then being slammed shut. I layed in his bed, holding his pillow close to my body. I wasn’t angry at him, I was angry that I have to constantly wonder if he’s alive. That was the hard part. I put my hand on my stomach, sniffling. Maybe he didn’t need to know, and just maybe when he got back I wouldn’t be waiting for him.

A week and a half later he came back. The sound of his booming voice broke through the silence of the cafeteria. Upon his arrival I stood up and walked out. He locked eyes with me. “No welcome back hug, sugar?” He sneered. “Fuck you, Negan.” I blatantly replied back. Gasps erupted throughout the room. I didn’t care anymore.

I had an appointment with Carson later that day to check on the baby and make sure I was healthy. He told me everything was fine, and I was already at about a month. Luckily for me, I wasn’t showing just yet, but he said in the coming weeks I would be. I smiled, thanking him. He knew the situation between Negan and I, and he didn’t question my reasoning for not telling him.

I left the examination room, walking down to the dorm I shared with Lexie. I walked in and gasped as I saw Negan sitting down at the desk, his head in his hands. I looked at him, confused. “Negan..?” I asked with a quiet voice, not wanting to startle him. He looked up, and I couldn’t tell if he looked angry or hurt. Probably a bit of both.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” His tone gave away the hurt and betrayal he was feeling at the moment. “Tell you what?” I hoped he wasn’t talking about the baby.. He got up, throwing the desk lamp against the wall, the glass breaking. I jumped at his outburst, backing away carefully. “The baby, Y/N! My fucking kid! That you didn’t tell me about! How could you fucking do that to me? Just let me leave like that?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I paused, collecting my thoughts. “Negan you left, because you wanted to. Nobody forced you to go, but you did. You made that choice. I was fucking excited to tell you. I was going to. YOU, made me choose not to. That is your fault. Do not try and make me out to be the bad guy.”

He laughed, “Oh please! You fucking knew I would have stayed, but no. You thought I didn’t deserve to know you are carrying MY fucking kid! This isn’t just some small shit, this is a fucking child!” I yelled back at him, “Your kid? This is OUR fucking kid. Don’t ever think otherwise either! And of course I didn’t think you deserved to know! Look at you Negan! You’re a fucking mess! Something doesn’t go your way and you freak the fuck out!”

He growled, “Fuck you. You fucking knew I had a right to know. I could have fucking been there with you! I would have been there!” I looked down, placing a hand on my stomach. He was right. I felt guilt flood my system at his comment. It was true, he would have stayed.

I started crying once again, tears slipping down my cheeks and onto my t-shirt. “I-.. You’re right.” He looked at me, tilting his head. “I never.. I never should have fucking. God. I’m so fucking stupid. I fucking ruined everything. Jesus..” I rested my hands on the bedside table. I sat down on the bed, trying to catch my shaky breaths.

The tears soon turned into waterfalls, I repeated broken apologies over and over, hoping he would forgive me. He sat down next to me, pulling me into his lap. I wrapped my arms tightly around him, not letting him leave. “I’m so fucking sorry…” He nodded, kissing my head. “I know, honey. I’m sorry for being such an ignorant fuck. I should’ve known there was something wrong.”

He held me, whispering to me all the things he wanted to do with the baby. I closed my eyes, burying my head in his shoulder, listening to his words was peaceful to me. “Don’t leave me again please.” I pleaded with him, he kissed my neck gently. “I’m here doll, I’m not leaving again.” I nodded, inhaling the scent of his leather jacket.

“We’ll be okay right? Me, you.. And the baby?” I asked softly.

He nodded, “Me, you, and the baby are going to be fucking perfect.. Thank you, Y/N.”

I looked up, “For what?”

“For making me the happiest fucking man in the world. I love you, my beautiful girl.”

[burnwme]

Bad January Day

Possible tw?- Short descriptions of Lexie's flashbacks involving her PTSD due to Ordin.

I laid there on my side listening to the beeping of Zeke’s alarm with one leg draped over his hip as his grease-printed hand held the back of my lower thigh firmly enough to keep it there, to keep me from wiggling down in my sleep. The other hand was wrapped around my back, holding me close. My head was nuzzled into the little bridge in his neck. The hand on my thigh moved while the one around my back tightened, holding me to him to prevent from crushing me as he leaned forward. I heard a tap then the beeping stop, the alarm was off. Thank god. Now that he was done with the alarm he leaned back and moved into our previous position. “Lexie” He nudged. “Hmmm?” I responded. “C'mon we gotta get up Baby.” I groaned. It was comfy here, I wanted to stay. “Can we just stay?” I asked, considering giving him pouty eyes but that would mean moving. I decided against it but immediately regretted it as unwrapped himself from me and sat up and moved away, making sure not to loom. Ugh. I rolled onto my back, eyes still closed. “Why can’t we just stay?” I whined. I felt the weight on the side of the bed lift and peeked one eye open to see him, just in his boxers, grabbing his shirt and throwing it on, covering his back muscles. This morning just keeps getting ruined, I groaned again. I closed my eyes and rolled over, and went back to bed. I heard more rustling as I quickly drifted off.

I felt a nudge on my shoulder and knew it was Zeke trying to wake me again. I turned onto my side and ignored him. “Lexie, get up you’re going to be late.” “Good” I mumbled back, not really caring. I heard a sigh “What will you tell Rory?” I groaned as I rolled over onto my back, opening my eyes to see a very tall Zeke standing next to me, too tall. Normally it’d be fine but I'd been on edge lately, it was January again after all. I saw flashes of a man over me, Clay. It skipped to his hands on me, snow, a forest. Then it skipped back to him over me, I pushed it away. “Back up” I let out, my breathing fast. Zeke obeyed immediately then proceeded to drop to his knees and scoot closer to me again, knowing his height was the problem. He touched my cheek, “Are you here with me Baby?” I nodded, the remnants of the flashback was there. The panic feeling, the urge to scrub my skin to shreds amongst other things but the flashback itself was gone. I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. “I’m here.” His eyes wandered over my face, worried. I sat up “Zeke, I’m okay, really.” He nodded and looked away but he still seemed upset. I immediately knew it was at himself, that’s how Zeke was. I turned my body to face him, “Zeke look at me.” He looked up at me. “We’re gonna need to be more careful, all of us. Normally that distance would’ve been fine, we both know that. But the one year is coming up and it's getting to me which means bigger limits. You didn’t know Tough Guy we needed more space, so don’t go doing that blame yourself thing on me. Okay?” I could see the shadows in his eyes lift some as processed. “Okay.” He replied, his voice still deeper from sleep.

I sat up, my body feeling entirely too heavy. I remember this feeling. I remembered what came along with it too. The forcing myself to get out of bed and crying as I did so because it was just so hard. I remember the thoughts blaming myself for being so weak as to not be able to lift my own body out of bed. I remember the occasional times the guys would see me like that in the morning after it first happened, I remember the way they comforted me and tried to help even if it just meant Asher brushing my hair or Isaac helping me pick out my clothes because I didn’t have the energy to walk over to my closet or Ethan holding me close as I cried into him. I hoped it wasn’t this bad, I really did because as much as staying in bed sounded nice the idea of being confined to it due to lack of drive sounded horrible. I didn’t want to go back to where I was last year. I don’t want to rot in my bed, I don’t want to fear the outside world, I don’t want the constant flashbacks, I don’t want any of it. But I could already feel it happening. The heavy body in the morning, the cancelling plans to stay inside because it is just too overwhelming or the easier triggers. I knew they noticed too. I didn’t want them to be worried about me. I can manage on my own, although I know I don’t have to, I just- I guess I don’t want to cause them any kind of heartache or anxiety even though I know I could use their help through it, if it wasn’t for them last year I probably wouldn’t have gotten through it.

I pushed myself to stand up despite feeling this invisible weight on my shoulders just holding me down. I looked down at Zeke kneeling by the bed “I’m gonna get ready.” then turned back, put on shorts that I'd left on the floor last night, leaving me in them and my tank top then left the room walking towards the living room to grab my bag, yawning. I turned into the leaving room and leaned over the back of the couch to grab my bag. As I was leaning back up I heard a familiar voice right behind me say “Goodmorning.” then a kiss on my shoulder. Despite the warning I still jumped. God, I was on edge this morning. I turned around to see Miles’ with a concerned look in his eyes behind his glasses. I smiled at him. “Morning.” I slung my backpack around my shoulder and began to walk away hoping to avoid the conversation I was sensing was about to happen. I didn’t want to talk about it nor did I want them to worry. “Lexie?” He called. I stopped, silently cursing. “Yeah?” I asked, back still turned. “Are you okay?” I turned to him “I’m okay Miles. It’s just-” He interrupted me “bothering you more than usual?” I nodded. “I’m gonna go get ready” I turned around and headed down the hall towards the bathroom.

As I went to change I felt that weight on me again, I breathed trying to gain the motivation to do it. It didn’t go away. Crap. I decided to just push forward. Pulling down my shorts I bent down and unzipped my bag then grabbed my jeans out. I tried to put them on and as I did I began to tear up. This was way too hard than it should've been. It felt like my bones were rusted and everything I did took all the effort in the world when I had little motivation to even try. I took a breath and finished putting my jeans on. My mind began to reprimand me about how pathetic it was to almost cry putting some fucking jeans on before I took a deep breath and shut it out again, reminding myself that sometimes when you’re struggling it takes all you’re energy to just get by. I collected myself again before pulling off my tanktop and replacing it with a bra, while feeling entirely too drained and holding back tears from the effort. I pulled out my shirt while reminding myself about my responsibilities, I pulled on my shirt as a tear slipped. Fuck. I went to wipe it but it wouldn’t stop. I sat down on the bathroom floor trying to pull myself together so I could continue getting ready. I sat there silently crying, taking deep shaky breaths. Then I began having flashes again. I saw my old boots standing in snow with a hand that belonged to Ordin wrapped around my thigh. I pushed it away and began to focus on staying here and now using grounding techniques like naming 5,4,3,2,1 of things around me that related to each sense.

I must’ve taken too long because I heard Zeke outside the door telling me “Lexie you’re gonna be late.” I didn’t respond, he’d know that I was crying by my voice. He must’ve not liked my silence because he spoke again “Lexie are you okay in there?” Well, I couldn’t just not say anything. He’d come in here worried and see I was crying, I had a better chance with hoping my voice didn’t crack. “Yeah” my voice cracked. Shit. “Bullshit.” He called through the door. I chuckled slightly as I wiped snot from my nose. “Can I come in?” He asked softly. “Yeah” I replied. I turned my head to look at the door as it creaked open slowly. A broad shoulder peaked though followed by the rest of his body. He looked briefly for me then sat across from me leaning on the bathtub behind him as he saw me on the ground, knowing that his height with me sitting in such a small space wouldn’t be good for me. I looked up at him and watched as he frowned at the tears running down my face. I wiped them, wanting them to stop, they didn’t. At least I wasn’t sobbing. “C’mere baby.” He told me, probably because he knew touch always made me feel better. I semi- got up onto my knees and sort of crawled to him on just my knees. As I got to him he motioned for me to sit in the space in between his knees, I did and leaned against his chest. “This okay?” His rough morning voice asked me. I nodded. He wrapped his arms around me holding me closer. “Is there anything I can do- or that any of us can do?” He said as his thumb went back and forth on my arm in a comforting motion. I took a deep breath, trying to stop the tears “No just be here.” He nodded. “We don’t have to go to school. Why don’t we stay here? I’m sure Rory will understand. We can turn on some shitty zombie movies with some popcorn. “ I smiled, that sounded nice. “Okay” my voice cracked again. He moved his hand and wiped my tears. “C,mon stop that baby, I’ve got you.” I gave a small laugh, he hated when I cried but he’d never let me be alone when I did. I leaned further back against him, savoring this loving warmth surrounding me, trying to stop crying again. It worked, thank god. I wiped my face again, getting rid of all the wetness and snot. I sat up straighter and turned around to face him. I smiled up at him before getting up on my knees and wrapping my arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back. “Thank you” I mumbled into his neck that I was nuzzled into. He pulled back and I followed suit. “Anytime, now get up and out so I can get off the bathroom floor.” I chuckled at that and thought about torturing him by forcing him to stay but decided against it seeing how I wouldn’t want to ruin my zombie movie day.

As I stepped out the door I saw Miles’ grab his bag from the hallway. As he opened the door he yelled “I’m leaving! Hurry up or you’ll be late.”. I went to say something about not going today but then he was gone. I shrugged he’d figure it out when we didn’t show up. I backed up from the bathroom door as Zeke approached it so he wouldn’t loom over me while leaving. He exited and began walking towards the living room, I followed. I watched as he grabbed the remote off the couch cushion and turned on the tv and put on Netflix. He sat on the couch and I followed suit, getting close to him wanting cuddles. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to his side. I frowned, this was nice but I wanted more. I glanced at him as I climbed onto his lap, my back against his chest again, making sure it was okay. He wrapped his arm around me and laid his head on mine as a familiar zombie movie he’d turned on began to play. I smiled, this- this was nice. This is what I needed. I needed the loving touch to replace the corrupted ones, I needed the kind words instead of the harsh ones trying to claim me, I needed the familiarity and love of my family. I reached behind us grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and adjusted it around us, content to stay like this as long as I needed to get through this bad January day.

[jam2289]

Leading a Writing Group - Session 8

I had four cards, each with a single word: King, Queen, Prince, Princess. Each of the kids drew their card, and then I was left with... Princess. I didn't particularly want to write a princess story at that moment, so I made her a bit unique. But, before we did the writing we covered an important writing subject.

When writing there are two basic sets of tools that you can choose from. You can use narrative devices like flashbacks, foreshadowing, and framing. These are tools that help you to structure your story. You can also use rhetorical devices like rhyming, alliteration, and assonance. These are tools that help you to structure your sentences and paragraphs. The best writers are good at using both narrative devices and rhetorical devices.

Bella drew the Queen card. She wrote a story about a princess that was shortly going to become queen because the queen was passing her position and power on to her daughter. But, the princess's aunt wanted power and was seeking to make both the queen and the princess vanish. An epic family drama that reminds me of some of the Icelandic family sagas. Bella wrote her story in the 3rd person point of view, e.g. "She said x."

Xavier drew the King card. He wrote a descriptive tale about walking through some old creepy ruins. He wrote his story in the 2nd person point of view, which is very unusual, e.g. "You said x."

Lexi drew the Prince card. She wrote about a guy sitting at a poker table on a casino riverboat with a royal flush, about to win the hand. But, some prince falls off the boat and causes a scene and the game ends. She wrote her story in the 1st person point of view, e.g. "I said x."

It is crazy that all three of them wrote in different points of view. That was not discussed or planned at all, and it's awesome.

And, of course, there is my princess story.

- - - - - - -

Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a dog. A dog that loved cupcakes. He lived in a house on the edge of town.

In the center of town there lived a princess. The princess had seven cupcakes left. Her nanny forced her to eat cupcakes every day. The princess didn't know why, but it was because the nanny was jealous of the princess's beauty and sought to destroy her through the destructive power of cupcakes.

There was no way for the princess to escape her room. She had tried before. No one would sneak her any food because the evil nanny once caught one of the palace cooks sneaking the princess a hamburger and was severely punished for it.

The princess opened her window and looked down, four floors to the ground. She listened to the sounds of the birds overhead, and smelled the air outside mix with the smell of the cupcakes emanating from her room. Oh, how she wanted to escape that poisonous sweet smell.

A dog's nose is powerful beyond the awareness of a human. A mile from the palace he could smell those cupcakes. Chocolate with chocolate frosting, red velvet with vanilla frosting, carrot cake with cream cheese filling and buttercream frosting. Oh my! A feast he had dreamed of, but hadn't dared hope for. To find a way to those cupcakes, he must!

- - - - - - -

It's a weird story, lol. I stopped near the beginning a couple of times and pointed out that I had no idea what I was going to write next, I just wrote what happened to come to mind. That way the kids can see that I'm not joking when I tell them they can write whatever pops into their heads. And, I think using that technique of little interjectory examples did help somewhat.

Lexi pointed out that the bun of the hamburger wasn't much of an improvement over the cupcakes as far as health is concerned, and that's true. A steak would have been healthier, but alas, that's not what came to my mind in the moment. Those types of things can be changed in the process of developmental editing.

It was a good session. I laid the groundwork for jumping back and forth between talking about narrative and rhetorical devices to develop our writing toolboxes, loved seeing the different points of view used, and feel that my in-story interjections may be a useful technique to remember for the future.

________________________________________________

Read more of what Jeff deems worthy of attention at: http://www.JeffreyAlexanderMartin.com