#maybe it's cause of all those times i was really reckless and irresponsible with money-- OH WAIT. THAT HAS LITERALLY NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED

[andthebeanstalk]

"Oh, Jack. You silly boi. You know that help at the top of the stairs is no help at all."

---

Art piece i may delete later about my parents offering money to me and my sisters to pay for either grad school (a thing I don't want and can't do with my disability) or my wedding (also a thing I don't need/want), but not for anything that would actually help me escape poverty and find stable housing and income.

Like, I recognize the privilege of being able to complain that my parents have offered me a bunch of money but in the wrong way.

But also if that money is on top of a flight of stairs that I can't climb (but my sisters can), then I haven't really been offered money, so much as I have watched money I need be placed somewhere I can't reach it. Which tbh feels worse than if it was never mentioned to me in the first place.

I was gonna send this art to them and i wrote this big long message to go with it, but then I decided to wait until my therapy session on Tuesday to talk it thru with her first, since I've literally never regretted doing that.

Besides, both of my parents are lawyers and right now they're providing me and my friends with a lot of free legal advice about this property we're trying to buy together, so I don't want to rock the boat currently.

I just wish I knew if I had access to that money as a poor person in need of stable housing and quality disability care, and I wish my parents weren't world-class hLepers who have a long and triggering history of engaging me in rigorous debate about the kind of help I should be allowed to receive from them as a disabled person.

Nothing like having to provide an argument that would hold up in court every time I'm sick and need help! Love that! Love that I can't even talk about money with them now without having invasive thoughts about it for days to come due to past incidences in which this repeated behavior of theirs literally endangered my life!!

Not like I need that mental capacity for working on the largest and most exciting opportunity of my life that also happens to line up with my hopes and dreams for the future!! It's fine!! What do I even need mental capacity for anyway?????

This wouldn't even be the first time this little Distrust Fund has caused problems for my relationship with my parents. They are very opposed to that money being used to help my disability and it has caused PROBLEMS for us that we have never quite recovered from.

It's just difficult to be reminded that although our relationship has gotten better (mostly thanks to me setting boundaries), that doesn't mean they now actually believe what I need for my disability when I tell them.

They really do love me, and they have only ever acted with the best of intentions . But good intentions cease to matter when the impact is harmful and repeated. And they have proven to be repeatedly incapable of providing non-ableist support for me again and again and again. They've even genuinely tried to learn; and sometimes it really seems like my mom has made progress with her therapist (who is disabled), but who knows when I can so jarringly be reminded of how quickly that toxic ableist thinking can show its ugly face.

It's so clear to me and they don't even know it's there.

It feels like I'm in a horror movie when I try to get them to understand their own ableism, and that is a good good sign that I may want to consider an approach that minimizes my mental damage instead. Even if it means I don't get their stupid, deeply-conditional-and-yet-the-conditions-are-SO-vague-and-they-won't-admit-it money.

#original #diary #ableism #ableism cw #if they actually trusted me they'd just give me the fucking money but WHATEVER #maybe it's cause of all those times i was really reckless and irresponsible with money-- OH WAIT. THAT HAS LITERALLY NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED #I GRADUATED BUSINESS SCHOOL WITH HONORS AND HAVE NEVER HAD ISSUES WITH OVER-SPENDING #maybe they subconsciously think I'm stupid w money bc I'm poor. but i doubt my sisters could just get the whole lump sum either. #I HAVE BEEN LIVING FRUGALLY MY ENTIRE ADULT LIFE YOU BASTARDS #I would say there's a 5% chance they pleasantly surprise me but I have to be careful not to spend too much energy on it #the invasive thoughts around my family's ableism are super aggressive and constant when they start #and so i would rather have no help than that stinky-ass hLep that hurts my brain and heart so bad for days after #hLep #anyway i don't want their help paying for a wedding bc i am housing insecure with no income and so is my wife #and besides that wedding planning is hard and stressful and involves either including or snubbing relatives i don't like #so like if you offer me thousands of dollars i would be like Great! More savings means more safety and security! #i would NOT be like Okay time to spend $2000 on fucking flowers I have SHIT GOING ON #if i have a wedding then the cost will be the cost of pizza for all the guests. #also govt says i can't get married or i lose my disability payments so ryan and I just decided we are married years ago #i need SO much disability care equipment that i don't have and i am unable to hold a standard full time job #but yeah sure maybe I'll go get another DEGREE despite my interests being completely non academic. fuck OFF. #i have been writing or making art about this all evening this is not how I wanted to spend the evening it is past 4am #hopefully this processing and drawing and journaling will allow me to remove this issue from the very forefront of my mind #it's a careful line to walk between processing and obsessing. but good processing helps you stop obsessing #hopefully I can save some of the more painful parts of this for therapy so I can focus on other stuff for the next couple days #listen if interacting with someone in a certain way makes you feel like you're in a horror movie then something needs to change #and sometimes the change is that we need to make literal and emotional distance between us and those people bc they aren't learning #okay okay time for edibles and a shower i fuckin earned it and even if i didn't I can do whatever I fucking want 👌 #and also I deserve nice things by default #and so do you

[thewitchandtheassassin]

That World (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Part two of “Alone With You” happy ending style.

Words: 3171

Warnings: Uh, alcohol, language and some angst? Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Holy shit. One hundred percent wasn’t expecting a longer fic to be my coming back fic but this thing had a mind of its own. And, I just really want to thank y’all for sticking around. It means so much and I’m happy to say I think I’ll be staying for a while this time. But either way, WE GOT A NEW STORY HOLY FUCK!

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have walked out. She knew it wasn’t what she’d wanted, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to let them slide off her tongue. So, instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out and left.

Left you broken just beyond the door closing behind her.

You’d never just been a way to pass time. Well, maybe in the beginning it had started out like that, but after the third time you’d let her in, something warm started creeping into her chest. You’d always assumed multiple people kept her company but the truth was…

There was only you.

She hadn’t meant to keep you in the dark – to make you feel the way you did – but she’d wanted to protect you (or maybe she was protecting herself. Those lines were a little blurred, if she was being honest with herself). She thought letting the distance hold you apart would keep you both safe but all it seemed to do was break hearts.

-X-

Hours became days and before Natasha realized it, it’d been a month since she’d heard you, seen you. She’d ignored it at first – the longing gripping her chest – but it was becoming overwhelming. She was reckless and withdrawn (more than normal). She was snappy and irritable and the team was worried.

“Nat, seriously, what’s going on?” Clint asked, flopping down beside Natasha on the couch in the common room.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha jerked to another page in her book, eyes scanning but not seeing the words printed. “Nothing.”

He reached out, grabbing her wrist calmly. “That’s a lie and we both know it. Talk to me.”

Natasha swallowed drily, fingers flexing around the book in her hands. Her tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds inside her mouth, threatening to suffocate her if she dare speak. A familiar pain traveled through her, the icy memory of the Red Room’s punishments creeping up her veins and pooling in her stomach.

Clint was startled to see tears filling Natasha’s eyes and he ripped the book from her, tossing it aside and gathering her in his arms. One hand stroked her hair while the other kept her close, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

“I fucked up,” Natasha hiccupped. “I-I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told her…”

His brows furrowed but Clint remained silent, waiting for his oldest friend to continue.

“All she wanted was for me to stay and I didn’t,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

Something dawned on Clint. “Is she who you used to go see after missions?” he inquired carefully, ignoring the tension that seemed to stiffen her muscles.

“…yes.”

Nodding, Clint leaned back and brushed a lock of hair from Natasha’s face. “If you’re this upset, you need to go to her. Tell her you regret leaving that night – that you regret leaving her. Wallowing isn’t doing anyone any good,” he advised, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m afraid she won’t forgive me,” she admitted brokenly. “I never told her anything. Not about missions or my life or anything. I kept her so far in the dark that I don’t know how to bring her into the light now.”

“You’ll never know until you talk to her,” Clint said. “If you care about her this much, you need to talk to her. Otherwise it’ll be entirely your own fault that you lost her.” He knew his words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. If he tried sugarcoating it, she’d never leave the couch.

Natasha’s face scrunched as she forced back tears. He was right. As much as she wished he wasn’t, he absolutely was.

“Okay,” she breathed, determination befalling her features. “Okay.”

Clint smiled, patting her shoulder as he stood. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

-X-

The drive to your apartment was silent aside from the incessant tapping of Natasha’s fingers on her thigh. She was trying to prepare her speech, like she was readying for battle, but she knew the moment she looked into your eyes it’d be useless. This wasn’t something she could sweep under the rug with a seductive look or a sensual kiss. She had to actually talk.

She was going to throw up.

Sudden terror gripped her as they stopped in front of the building. “I can’t do this.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, you can. Go talk to her. I’ll wait here until you say otherwise.”

Bottom lip snagged between her teeth, Natasha inhaled sharply and tossed open the car door before storming inside and up to your floor. With every step her heart thudded a little harder, but she ventured on, blinking sporadically to keep the tears at bay. Fist balled tight, she knocked twice behind rocking on her heels.

Silence.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Natasha’s head tilted. Only stillness greeted her as she stared at the door mocking her. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which was bizarre considering your floor creaked just at the entrance.

Her eyebrows nearly touched as she tentatively reached forward and knocked again. It was well past nine at night, so where the hell were you? A nasty thought crossed her thoughts and she faltered. What if you’d already moved on? What if you were on a date? What if they were in there?

The old woman who lived next door peered out of her apartment and stared at her. She could see the emotions warring on the beautiful woman’s face.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman called, garnering Natasha’s attention. “She’s not there.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “O-oh. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The woman’s pursed lips concerned Natasha. “I don’t think you understand, sweetie. She doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out about two weeks ago.”

All the blood drained from Natasha’s face and her lips parted slightly, a deeper concern blossoming in her stomach.

“None of us know where she went either,” she admitted. “We just saw her leave one day and the next, the landlord was trying to find new renters. It’s a shame too. She was lovely. Always helped me with my groceries.”

“She’s…gone?” Natasha repeated slowly, glancing at your door like she expected you to throw it open and laugh at your elaborate joke. This was just a joke…right?

Smiling sadly at Natasha, the old woman studied her. As a former nurse, she’d seen many people walk into her hospital with a similar expression; regret and devastation marring their features, waiting for someone to yell “surprise” or hoping to wake up from a bad dream.

She silently prayed this woman would someday find you and right whatever wrong caused that look; she’d always hated that look.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled before closing her door, the quiet click sounding like a thunderous boom in Natasha’s ears.

The urge to slump to her knees was crippling but Natasha forced herself upright and staggered out of your (former) building, dragging herself towards Clint’s car. Her fingers felt numb as she gripped the handle, dropping into the passenger seat. She said nothing and he didn’t push.

You were gone.

-X-

Traveling the country had never been something you’d really considered before. You liked having a steady home, steady relationships – a steady life. But two weeks after Natasha walked out of your door, you decided to throw caution to the wind and try it. You had more than enough money to survive for a while so you tossed your bigger items into the storage and began a trek across the country, headed west.

Was it irresponsible to quit your job and break your lease all because a woman didn’t love you? Probably, but you didn’t care. You needed something new; something wild that could help mend the shattered shards of your heart.

So you found yourself in a little town in Ohio two weeks into your trip, a cheap beer in hand as you looked around the bar. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye, merely curious of your surroundings. Plenty of people were scattered about, filling the air with small-town liveliness.

A feminine hand caught your attention out of your peripheral and you discretely glanced over. Long digits traced across the edge of the wood.

“I might be mistaken but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.” Her voice was like a warm breeze in the middle of September and you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at her.

She was pretty, relatively speaking, though she didn’t hold a candle to the woman who’d prompted this trip. But she might be pretty enough to help you forget.

“You’re not wrong,” you smirked, sipping your beer as you watched her eyes flicker to your lips.

She offered her hand, skin smooth and gentle against yours. “I’m Lucy.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, letting your fingers brush the palm of her hand as you let go.

Hopping onto the stool beside you, she raised a finger and the bartender handed her a drink. You weren’t sure if he’d been simply waiting for the gesture or if it was just a lucky coincidence but you weren’t going to question it. You were a stranger, what did you know?

“So, what brings you here?” Lucy asked, raising her glass to glossed lips.

You shrugged. It’d sound pathetic to admit all of this started because of a woman, right? An Avenger but still…

“Road trip,” you hummed, eyes drifting through the crowd again.

Lucy chuckled, smirking at you over the rim of her drink. “I’ve heard a lot of people say that but that’s never the full story, is it?”

Your gaze jerked back to her and her smirk deepened.

“Boyfriend troubles – or girlfriend?” she wondered, her glass thumping on the bar as she set it down.

Sighing, you acknowledged her probing with a humorless laugh. “Technically? Neither. She was never my girlfriend.”

Lucy’s brow arched, curiosity brimming in green eyes. “Oh?”

You downed your beer. “Yeah…” you didn’t exactly want to offer information but the need to vent was pulsating into your bones. No one knew the story; hell, no one had even known you had an occasional bed partner. “I had feelings for her but she walked out and never came back, so I decided a trip across the country wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Lucy gave an apologetic hiss and patted your arm. “Ouch.”

“But,” the corner of your mouth tugged up, “I’m sure some good company would help take the sting out a little.”

-X-

Finding out you had left was a blow Natasha hadn’t anticipated. She’d considered calling you from Clint’s car but the idea you had blocked her number gave her pause. You’d left for a reason, so she should honor that…

And she did try.

But, as another week drifted into two, she was crumbling inside. She’d spent many years trying to correct all the mistakes she’d made over in her youth but now she had no idea how to fix this one. You’d never been hers – though through no fault of your own – but it felt like you’d taken a chunk of her heart wherever you had gone.

In the end, it wasn’t even her who found you.

Tony Stark was many things: arrogant, a billionaire playboy, but not stupid. He’d seen Natasha losing herself and, while he might butt heads with her often, he hated the misery that lingered on the outskirts of green. So, as any friend would do, he stole her phone.

Your number was easy to find since it was the only “civilian” number on there, aside from Laura Barton. Natasha was nothing if not minimalistic.

Minutes later, he pinged your phone and had FRIDAY tracking it.

“Boss, what should I do with this information?” the AI wondered, curious – well, as curious as an AI could be.

“Send it to Agent Romanoff and tell her I better be her best man at the wedding,” Tony replied coolly, wandering off to go bug Pepper before Natasha could come skin him alive.

When FRIDAY alerted her of Tony’s meddling, she did consider hurting him for less than a second before she was racing out of the Compound and towards a jet. Yes, flying a million dollar get to win back her not-ex’s heart was dramatic but she was an Avenger.

And Avengers were good at dramatics.

-X-

You hadn’t left that little Ohio town yet, which honestly surprised you. After spending a night drinking with Lucy, you’d followed her home…

And slept on her couch.

She’d been wonderful to talk to – and you’d been right about the company – but sleeping with her had never been an option. You weren’t going to use someone like that, even if she was a stranger. But, she’d offered her couch and nearly two weeks later, you were still there. She’d argued with you about finding a motel, telling you she liked having someone to fill the silence of her little apartment.

So you stayed.

Right now, you were tucked in a little coffee shop, a mug in front of you as you waited for Lucy. She was off getting things ready for her upcoming art gallery in town so you’d been left to your own devices (which was fine). You were absently flicking through your social medias, listening to the locals discuss a plane that had touched down outside of town. You weren’t really paying any attention to it but the silence that enveloped the shop as the door opened certainly caught your notice.

You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as a disheveled – but still unnaturally beautiful – Natasha strolled over. She looked dress for war, but the uncertainty in her eyes left you frozen. In all the months you’d known her, she’d never looked so scared before. Like you were a wild cat that would either spring at her or dash away if she got too close.

“Hi,” she greeted, voice raspy and alluring.

You gaped, your throat suddenly so dry that it burned. You could tell your silence hurt Natasha but your lack of running away helped lessen the fear swirling inside her stomach. She cautiously grabbed the chair across from yours and dragged it closer, though she kept a respectable distance between you.

“W-why…how…um, huh?” you sputtered, trying to gather your thoughts. You had so many questions that wanted out and no idea how to ask them.

“You left New York,” she stated plainly, as if that explained everything – which, it did not.

“Yes?” you replied, though it definitely sounded like a question at that point.

Natasha cleared her throat, green dancing between your mug and the floor. “I was a coward,” she muttered, “The night you said you couldn’t do what we were doing anymore. I wanted to stay, but I was scared. Scared of what happens if I let you get too close; scared you wouldn’t like the real me. So, I left. But when I came to talk, you were gone.”

Her gaze almost felt accusing but you both knew she wasn’t angry with you.

“I –” you stopped yourself from apologizing. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the wounded party.

But looking at her, you wondered if maybe you weren’t the only one hurting.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she continued, lip trapped between perfect teeth. “I should’ve stayed when you asked and I’m sorry I didn’t. I should’ve told you I wanted more too. I should’ve given you everything instead of taking it. You were never just fun for me – and I wish I’d told you that sooner.”

“Nat,” you exhaled, watching her shoulders slump. “I wish you had too.”

She nodded, her hair obscuring your view, hiding that face you loved so much. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but can we try again? Try to have something real this time? I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I really want to give us a shot. Because losing you? It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.”

Your tongue was lead in your mouth, pressing it to your teeth. Thoughts swam through your mind at millions of miles per second and you wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. The air felt ten degrees hotter and you were fairly certain everyone was looking at you but you didn’t dare look away for even a millisecond.

“Hey, everything okay?” Lucy.

You didn’t even know she had arrived and suddenly the world felt like it was tipping on its axis. Natasha’s hair fluttered as her head snapped to the new arrival and you could see her heart turning to dust as she assumed the worst. Lucy’s eyes were on you but yours never left Natasha.

She didn’t say a word, merely kicking out of the chair and rushing from the shop, leaving you stunned. Another flurry of emotions and thoughts erupted in your brain but you knew one thing: you had find her.

You couldn’t lose her again.

Bolting off your chair, you lurched out of the shop and glanced about frantically. A glimpse of her black outfit was the only sign she’d ever existed in this little town and you surged after her, pushing your muscles in a way you hadn’t since you were forced to run a mile in gym.

You weren’t going to let her leave you again. If she left, there wasn’t going to be a third chance – and you knew it.

Catching her arm just outside of the trees that you assumed lead to her jet, you dragged her to a halt, breath escaping you in pants as you stared at the back of her head. This felt like something out of a stupid romantic comedy but that wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Natasha,” you started, though she hurriedly cut you off.

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, clearly fighting off her sorrow. “I get it. You don’t have to explain.” She was silently begging you not to. She couldn’t handle it if you did.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you assured her, tugging on the skin-tight material clinging to her body. “Lucy’s just a friend I made when I stopped here. She’s not…we’re not…”

Instead of struggling to find the words, you simply jerked on Natasha’s arm, bringing her crashing into you. Her hands found your shoulders and yours cupped her face, thumbs brushing the stray tears away. You had so much you wanted to say but you’d been taught actions speak louder than words so with a rush of courage, your lips brushed hers.

She gasped, her lips still against your own and you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But, as she sagged into you, she fervently brought her mouth to yours, kissing you desperately. She clung to you like you’d disappear, arms coming around your neck to keep you close.

When air became a necessity, you pressed your forehead against hers and smiled. “Want to take a road trip with me?” you asked breathlessly, giggling as she nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Maybe this was that world after all.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanov imagine #mcu imagine #black widow x reader #reader insert #avengers imagine

[emersonfreepress]

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches ​​ asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

#lovely anon #answered #hotmess #ok I am truly so sorry for going on and on like this #writing #ch design #ty for this question it was really nice to revisit this stuff 😃 #and a nice reminder to not look back lol #scrapped

[blue-bird-kny]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so I’m kind of nervous. I was wondering if I could request an Inosuke x reader fanfic. Maybe as childhood friends who later in life they realize they are in love or you could do anything you want. Anything is fine!I’m not picky! Thank you💕

I’m loving the Inosuke request I've gotten so far! I couldn’t help myself with the angst so please enjoy~Amanda

Warning: Angst, Fluff, Swearing

(1k+ words)

“Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder”

Your childhood was far from a nice one. When you were born, your parents left you in the care of your grandmother so they could go off and ‘find themselves’ or some excuse like that. You knew it was because they had  no intention of having kids but you couldn’t careless, if they didn’t want you then so be it. Your poor grandmother, who was already very elderly when you were born, was stuck with a newborn because of her irresponsible child.  

She eventually died after a few years, leaving you with a small house and an even smaller amount of money. You’ve always been independent, you had to be to survive. You’d do small jobs around the village and tended to farmers' crops just to make some money. You were somewhat of an outcast in the village, if you didn’t do work for them, they ignored you and didn’t let their children play with you. All except for one.

You can’t remember how you met him or when, but you know that after he came into your life, everyday seemed much more exciting. Inosuke was sort of like you, he didn’t have anyone to watch after him, he lived providing for himself. He was always so loud and daring, wanting to jump off trees into the river and other reckless things that scared you. You did them though; if he asked you, you did it because you trusted him, he was the only one that trusted you after all.

For years you two were inseparable, where ever he ventured off to, you were always right behind him. He was your best friend, one you’d hoped would be with you forever. However, you never expected he’d up and leave one day without notice. You knew it would happen, he always said how he had this grand plan of leaving and never coming back, how he wanted to become stronger. What you didn’t know was that this plan didn’t include you. You wish you could say you were angry with him, heartbroken yes, but not angry. You never could get angry at him, no matter how much of your food he ate or what he said, you never got angry. Plus, who were you to stop him from wanting more than the life he had?

That was two year ago though, no sign of Insouke since. You couldn’t deny that you missed him dearly, but his yearning for something more drove you to do something with yourself. During those two years you’d left your shitty life, training hard to become a demon slayer.

You never saw yourself following this path in life, but Inosuke’s absence lit a fire inside you. So off you went leaving everything behind, leaving behind the home where you made so many memories with Inosuke. Securing the old sword you’d managed to buy to your hip, you started on your way to Mt. Fujikasane for Final Selection.

Once you arrived, there were only about 20 or so others. A group of kids stood next to you, whispering about how some candidate had already run up the mountain. “What an idiot” you thought to yourself just as the final selection was beginning.

After a grueling week of tirelessly surviving on the mountain, the Final Selection was over. “Only about six of us survived, but there are only five of us here” you realized as you surveyed those around you. “I wonder if that idiot is the other survivor not here. Not that I really care” you questioned as you picked your ore.

Some time had passed since the final selection. You’d receive your nichirin blade already, it turning into a deep purple. You’d been prowling around the mountain when you heard yelling coming from the distance. You ran towards it, finding a group of demon slayers and three kids. “Are you okay?! You need serious medical assistance” you told the hunter who’d wrapped themselves around this strange box, blood slipping out from under his blonde hair. Before he could even respond, the sickening sound of two skulls colliding could be heard behind you as the other two slayers fought. “Cut it out would yo..” you started to interject as the boar mask of one of the demon slayers slipped off, revealing a matured version of someone you were sure you’d never see again.

“Inosuke” your words trembled as you stared at him, blood spilling from a crack in his forehead. Although you’d spoken quietly, Inosuke heard it and turned to face you. His eyes widened as he realized who you were “Hey I know you!” he started walking to you before he fell face-first onto the floor. “This idiot” you thought as relief washed over you, your tears stopping before they could even fall.

You and the other demon slayer, who’s name you learned was Tanjiro, stood outside of the house with the wisteria crest. He has the boy named Zenitsu on his back while you held Inosuke, whose mask you’d gently placed back on. Once inside, you offered to help othe old women care for the three boys. You’d been hanging their now clean clothes when you heard a loud crash from the room they’d been staying in.

You rushed in only to find three idiots: Tanjiro was trying to stop Inosuke from attacking Zenitsu, who sat curled up on the floor. “Would you three sit down, your wounds aren’t even close to healing yet!” you yelled, catching the attention of the trio. Inosuke smiled before running towards you head first, “wait! Stop Inosuke you can’t..!” you tried warning before the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he picked you up in a bone crushing hug. “(y/n) you’ve gotten so strong! You even carried me all the way here! We have to fight each other now!” his voice was rushed and full of excitement as he held you tightly. Tanjiro, sensing the situation, ushered out a complaining Zenitsu from the room. Your tears crept back into your eyes as Inosuke put you down. He was taller than you, his body thicker now because of all the toned muscle that lined his body. “I can’t believe I found you” you started as tears rolled down your cheeks. His smiling face was replaced with one of regret and worry, his hands dropping from their place on your shoulders.

“You left so suddenly that I didn’t even know what to think. I figured you’d left to grow stronger, but I never thought you’d leave without at least saying goodbye” your voice broke as tears stained the clothes you wore. His eyes cast down to your feet, “I figured if I just left, it would hurt less for you” he explained. You’d never seen Inosuke so quiet, it was so out of character. “You're an idiot then Inosuke, I really missed you” your feeling laid out in front of him as you stood feeling so vulnerable.

“I missed you too, you know. It wasn’t like I just forgot about you and my feelings for you were lost once I left” his response made you stop breathing. ‘His feeling? Inosuke likes me? Do I like him?’ your mind spun in circles as you processed all this new information. Being away from each other didn’t break your relationship, actually it helped you two find out just how much you liked each other.

Inosuke pulled you closer for another hug, this time much more relaxed. “I’m an asshole for leaving, but I do love you” his whispered breath moved your hair slightly. He pushed back only to place a soft kiss on your forehead, causing a small smile to replace your frown. You looked up at him, his eyes staring back as you said “Let’s not dwell on the past anymore. That time apart let us both grow and now we have each other again”.

He laughed loudly, his usual brash self returning “My girlfriend is a badass too!” he exclaimed with his whole chest. You laughed along with him, his words slowly processing in your mind before it dawned on you what he’d said, “Wait girlfriend?!”

I loved this one a lot, I feel like it may be the best one I've written thus far. Thank you for reading and please stay healthy!~Amanda

Main Masterlist

#kny #kny x reader #kimestu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #inosuke x reader #inosuke hashibira #inosuke

[calamity-bean]

the angry prince of goofs

I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, which was probably my first mistake, and especially about one little detail that’s demonstrated repeatedly but not really explored in depth: Ziggy is good with technology. 

Better than most of the characters in his orbit, at any rate; he understands computers, understands the internet, has to explain digital cameras and search engines to Nick, who still seems confused. And while, even for 2003, I wouldn’t claim he’s a technical genius, this detail stands out to me partly because it’s one area in which he’s expressly shown to be more capable than his cousin — typically the far more competent of the pair — and partly because he tends to get written off, both in-universe and out, as, well... an idiot. A stupid guy who does stupid things simply because he’s stupid, with no greater character depth or complexity than that.

And that... kinda irks me! Look, I get why Ziggy’s not exactly a fan favorite. He’s not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s immature and abrasive and makes a lot of frustrating decisions, and I get why so many viewers find that annoying, I really do. But although he can certainly be a dumbass, I’m honestly not convinced that he’s dumb, and I think it does a disservice to the writing of the season and to James Ransone’s performance (easily among his best work, imo, out of the roles I’ve seen him in) to boil Zig down to just a clueless annoyance with no regard for why he acts the way he does or his value to the overall narrative.

So I’ve been thinking about Ziggy Sobotka, and types of intelligence, and finding one’s place in the world, and how Ziggy’s character arc relates to The Wire’s overarching theme of a changing city at the dawn of the new millennium.

Twice, over the course of the season, Ziggy’s mentioned in connection with college.

The first time is in 2.06, as Frank chews him out about literally burning money at the bar — definitely one of those moments that baffles and enrages viewers, cause oh my GOD, Zig, Nick goes to all that trouble for you, and then you burn a hundred dollar bill? What the heck, man. But I love this scene with Frank. It’s Ziggy at his most subdued and collected; it’s one of maybe two substantial conversations between father and son all season; and it reveals that Ziggy is capable of being far more observant than he often seems. Frank, frustrated with the lack of employment available for Ziggy, vents, “Maybe if I’d have listened to your mother, cause she’s the one always talking about you should do the community college, like your brother.” Why would Frank let one son continue his education, but not the other? Well, I have to read between the lines here, but I don’t think it’s outlandish to guess that it’s because Ziggy is — or was supposed to be — Frank’s heir. We know he’s Frank’s firstborn, and we know that for Frank, working on the docks is more than an occupation; it’s a cherished family legacy going back generations and a huge point of pride. Ziggy was probably always earmarked to follow in his father’s footsteps, and he probably always knew it. “You wanna know what I remember?” he says, and describes the education he did receive: a life spent paying careful attention to his father’s world. “Everything. Everything.” College just was not a necessary part of the life planned for him.

But there’s absolutely no future on the docks for Ziggy, and by this point, father and son both know it. It’s a rapidly dying profession with scarce shifts available for L-series juniors, so maybe it’s no surprise Zig puts a lot more effort into being a thief and drug dealer than he does into being a checker. Unfortunately, despite seeming fairly adept in logical-mathematical intelligence (technical knowledge, facts/figures, coming up with plans), Ziggy fumbles in all these pursuits because of one type of intelligence that he definitely does lack: interpersonal/social skills — i.e., the ability to read a room and to play well with others. He constantly annoys people, never realizes he’s being tricked until it’s too late, and lets emotion get the better of him, leading him to be irresponsible and impulsive and seek instant gratification. This is, again, in contrast to Nick, who is much less tech savvy than Zig but far more personable and reliable. People like Nick. They trust Nick. Even Frank seems to have a closer relationship with his nephew than with his own son.

And this feeds into a critical difference between Nick and Ziggy. Nick, with Aimee and Ashley to support, is primarily motivated by a need for money; Ziggy, on the other hand, cares less and less about money as the season progresses and is primarily motivated by a desire for something Nick already has: respect. More broadly, Zig craves the validation of others, whether that validation comes to him as respect or approval or even just attention. This, more than immaturity and definitely more than a simple lack of intelligence, is what drives his behavior, including his most reckless or seemingly inexplicable acts. In some circumstances, it inspires him to act like a tough guy; in others, it manifests in childish clownery like whipping out Pretty Boy or waltzing around with a seeing-eye duck, as though he were a comedian playing to a crowd. It’s why he wastes his money on showy status symbols, like Princess and a $2,000 coat, or on buying rounds for the bar. And of course, it manifests in trying to show up his father, who seems to have plenty of time and money for all the other stevedores and yet, by his own admission, pays scant attention to his own son except when Zig screws up... which, needless to say, Zig has a bit of a chip on his shoulder about.

The irony, of course, is that the harder Ziggy tries to impress people, the less it works. His attempts to act tough get him trounced. The other stevedores are happy to let him buy drinks and play class clown, but they are very much laughing at him rather than with him, and the same guys who egg him on and flatter him always turn right around and scoff at what a fool he is after it blows up in his face. His biggest attempt to prove himself is the car heist... which actually goes off without a hitch! Like I said, Zig’s not bad at logistical planning; he comes up with a clever scheme and carries it out successfully. It should’ve been a triumph for him — proving that he could handle himself, that he didn’t need Nick or Frank looking out for him and deserved to be treated like a valid player in the game. But Glekas, like everyone else, saw Ziggy as easy to take advantage of and too weak to effectively retaliate. If it were earlier in the season, he’d have been right, just like every other time Zig wound up tricked and humiliated. Unfortunately for everyone involved, though, by that point, Ziggy — impulsive, hotblooded Ziggy — was “tired of being the punchline to every joke.”

The Wire: Truth Be Told (which I haven’t gotten to read beyond previews) calls Ziggy the “angry prince of goofs.” I think that, more than anything, Ziggy is someone who keeps trying on different costumes and never finds one that fits. He was supposed to carry on the Sobotka stevedore legacy, but the profession is dying, and even if it weren’t, Nick is far more an heir apparent to Frank than Ziggy is. So he tries to be a tough guy, but isn’t; tries to be the sort of cool, funny guy people like and admire, but can’t; tries to prove himself as a player, but makes mistake after mistake until he screws up so horribly that there’s no coming back from it. When Frank tells him that what he did to Glekas and the store clerk isn’t him, Ziggy replies incredulously, “It ain’t?” — because it is him, he did that! But he’s not suited to being a killer, either; he immediately falls apart with horror and remorse. So what is he? Who is he? Was there anything he could have succeeded at, any way he could’ve made better choices than he did?

In 2.10, shortly after Ziggy’s arrest, we meet Priscilla Katlow — the same girl listed on the fake paternity papers Zig gets pranked with in 2.07. In the earlier episode, Nick implies that Prissy is, to be crass, kind of the neighborhood bicycle, making it sound like she was nothing more to Zig than a one-night stand. I have a lot of feelings about the fact that it turns out she’s actually a childhood friend who’s visibly in tears over Ziggy’s situation when she finds Nick grieving on the playground of their old school. They’re maybe the only two characters we see who seem to not only care about Ziggy but genuinely like him, and they reminisce about a time, years ago, when he was supposed to buy them all some SoCo and Pikesville Rye. Instead, he bought Boone’s Farm — because, he claimed, “that’s what the college kids drank.” Then, while drinking it on that same playground, he shouted, “College kids ain’t shit!” And I know I’m really galaxy-braining here, really reading a lot into just a few lines, but I can’t help but wonder, like… This seems to have taken place toward the end of high school, since Prissy was driving her mom’s car and Ziggy could pull off a fake ID. Ziggy probably already knew that he was bound for the docks right after graduation, if he wasn’t working there already; Frank wasn’t even entertaining Zig’s mother’s wish that they send him to college instead. And I wonder if, to some extent, Zig resented that? Or resented not having a choice? Because this anecdote implies a mixture of wanting to emulate those college kids (drinking what he thinks they drink) while simultaneously deriding them — perhaps because he knew that he couldn’t be one, no matter whether or not he wanted to, and therefore had to act like the entire concept was beneath him.

I don’t know whether Zig would’ve done better in college anyway. I think that, contrary to popular opinion, he did have his own areas of intelligence and competence, but despite being in some ways the more “book smart” of the Sobotka cousins (Ziggy’s technical knowledge vs. Nick’s common sense), maybe he’d have been too immature to put in the work for school, too lazy or too proud to try. But I just wonder if he might’ve had a better chance at life that way, both in terms of staying out of trouble and of possibly finding a field that would’ve better rewarded his skill-set. Insofar as The Wire in general is about the changing face of Baltimore and how the shifting infrastructure of the city impacts the individuals within it (particularly the economically marginalized), and insofar as season 2 specifically is about the death of American industry and of the traditional blue-collar working class, Ziggy is an exploration of someone who fell through the cracks of that shift and, in that respect, was sort of doomed to failure from the beginning. James Ransone has described him as “very castrated” in terms of his power and potential for social mobility, the game being rigged against working-class people like him even with the advantages of being a white male. Ziggy’s brother, armed with a college education, might fare better in the 21st-century workforce... But even if Zig hadn’t ended up in prison, he probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer in the family business anyway. Johnny Fifty, a more senior checker, is homeless by season 5, and unemployment is the implied fate of nearly all longshoremen in the near future.

And honestly? Although I really like Ziggy, I appreciate that he’s a failure. I think one of the reasons I do feel so deeply for him is that the narrative never rewards his errors or glorifies his misdeeds. If it did, he’d risk coming off as one of those edgy, disenfranchised white guy antihero types, and I doubt I’d have found that nearly as sympathetic or interesting. By the standards of The Wire, Zig’s relatively small-time in terms of how much damage he causes and pretty notable for how extremely he regrets what harm he does do, but that still doesn’t excuse his actions, and the narrative doesn’t pretend that it should. Nor does it pretend that he’s not also worthy of our interest and pathos anyway.

Ziggy Sobotka is not cool. He’s not a badass. He’s not any of the things he tried to be during the season, and he’ll probably never get a chance, now, to be anything other than a murderer locked up for life. And I know he wasn’t entitled to any fate other than the one he earned for himself, but I wish he’d been able to find a better path.

#the wire #ziggy sobotka #james ransone #nick sobotka #frank sobotka #y'all i have written some ''there is absolutely no audience for this'' posts in my day... but this one takes the cake lmao #which is a shame tbh cause i'm proud of it!!! my particular brand of overzealous character analysis at its finest #meta #my meta #op

[dropsofletters]

taste of you

title: taste of you pairing: mark lee/reader genre: arranged date!au/rich kids!au/racer!au summary: for her to go out on a date with goody-two-shoes mark lee was her family’s dream, much more if the date led to a possible relationship. her irresponsibility makes her finally accept going to this date, but mark is a lightweight and too much of a blushing mess. type: fluff. note: you can listen to these songs while reading [1], [2], [3], [4]

The hood of her car, specifically a Lykan Hypersport, was lifted up for the mechanic to look at the mess that she had made. The sound of the roaring engine had led her to step on the pedal with as much force as she could, her fingers holding the steering wheel with precision and ease, racing with some of her friends whom also didn’t care about the importance and expensiveness of such convertibles and cars. It was far from her train of thought back then to ever think that she could burn the entire engine, causing her car to come to a halt and for her to get out of it as soon as possible.

It comes with her, the adrenaline and the need to feel powerful inside a big car. She has always enjoyed cars, even going as far as driving one when she was twelve and decided to sneak out of the house in her family’s old Bugatti, but with each passing year, the possibility of her family standing her bad behavior grew thinner and thinner, reminding her that she could be as reckless as she wanted as long as no one realized. There were worst things to do, she convinces herself, she doesn’t spend her money on drugs or alcohol, just in a few cars and their reparations. It’s only her second damaged car of the year and her red Ferrari is still going after the little encounter that happened on January of said year.

Being rich comes with a lot of facilities, she won’t lie, she has plenty of things that she does not even care about and she has friends that only talk to her because of her wealth, but that is far from the case.

The only words she has ever heard from the moment she was able to understand what was told to her was to find a man. A man that could drive her around in a limousine, a man that could turn her into a billionaire instead of staying as a flimsy millionaire, a man whose businesses were big enough to turn her into a woman of more power than she could ever imagine. It was never a matter of coming up with her own idea, it was more of a dress-to-impress situation, with arranged dates and a lot of meetings.

Part of herself thought that her insistence on participating on races, whether they were for fun or legit, was because she wanted to prove to herself that she is able of doing things on her own. Not a lot of people were able to drive like she did, neither did a lot of a men—and that made her feel more powerful. She loves the fact that she has raced and won, but there were certain situations in which she ends up at the sight of her family, almost with a light pointed at her to get her to confess.

And there is always the reminder that she needs to find a man at times like those, where she proves people right for once out of a hundred situations. Her family suddenly thinks that her dream of investing on car-producing companies and racers was non-existent and non-profitable, making her look like just a teenager with raging hormones and dreams too big for her own womanly body.

Really, it’s the twenty first century. It surprises her that her family still thinks that way.

The mechanic did not help her, the old man with the long beard licking his lips before saying. “Good thing she got out of the car in time. She could have burned herself alive if only she did not turn it off and got away.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, her Louis Vuitton sweater covering her upper body with its light creamy color and she matched it with a pair of leather pants, highlighting her legs greatly with the pair of heeled boots she had worn. There is slight pride in her voice when she says. “I told you I know what I’m doing. I know more about cars than most people—”

Her aunt, the one in charge of the house and the business as her parents went out on a business trip, clicks her tongue as she looks at the black car. “This is not something a decent woman does. How many cars have you destroyed in the past few years, huh?”

Seven since she was fourteen. “Only three.”

Her aunt, however, does not believe her in the slightest and while searching for her phone in her purse, she speaks to her niece. “I am having a talk with your parents about this. If you keep going like this, you’re going to end up dead.”

“Am not. I know what I’m doing—”

“Think about what you’re doing for a second!” She knows that talking about said situations in front of the mechanic was not the perfect occasion, but it was normal in her family. Out of the three hundred and sixty-five days a year normally had, she only got to see her family a handful of days. It was always a matter of parties, meetings, arrangements, connections, social media, degrees that are falsely acquired and much more. For one moment, all she wants to do is do something on her own, without having an itinerary written by her assistant or having her family pick what she has to do. “In my opinion, they should stray you from ever picking up a car. Screw that, the keys to a car.”

“That’s not—”

“You’re irresponsible and your actions should be taking account of.”

Irresponsible for doing something that was not made for ‘girls’, for trying to get the attention of a family that never even looks at her, for wanting to give a real title to being a woman—not the poor concept that her family has of what a woman has to be. She looks around the parking lot, around twelve cars that she has all driven around the streets of Seoul—normally, she prefers to go around Gangnam, but she knows that if she doesn’t make a deal with her tight minded family, she won’t even get to drive a Honda to university. That’s not something she wants or even thinks of.

Before her aunt can put her phone against her ear, she grabs her by the wrists and in a rushed, hushed whisper, she says: “Wait, I want to make a deal.”

There are a lot of things her family hasn’t been able to stop her from doing. Racing is one, for example. Her eating habits have been a constant point of arguments with her numerous family, but most importantly, dating was the biggest of their worries. She is not one to date around a lot, but her latest boyfriend was a nightmare to her family. With bleached blonde hair and a dangly earring, his bottom lip pierced and little to no knowledge about rich families whatsoever, coming from a small city himself. The relationship only lasted two years, quite a long time in today’s expectations, and ever since then she hasn’t gone past flirting. She was young, a teenager, when she had fallen in love with him and she wants to enjoy her life away from relationships.

That is one of her biggest problems, because she truthfully doesn’t even want to go out on dates on her own, let alone those who were arranged to create a potential rich couple to benefit two families. In this case, her mind goes back to the only guy that has ever been presented to her as a possible partner—Mark Lee. Canadian, really good with languages, exceptionally excellent in tasks like music and studying, is probably in some music major as well as working on a book of sorts, she thinks he was published by a major publishing house at the young age of eighteen but she barely keeps up with him. Mark Lee has never been her taste.

He is not an explosion of flavors, neither is he cherry or papaya, much less is he something like a passion fruit. His personality is as bland as an apple could be, he simply does not stand out to her. The moment she met him he was only fifteen and the only thing he could think about was fidgeting with his hands and speak in a rushed manner to her. Surely, he could be a good friend, but Mark does everything his family tells him—and she is the complete contrary.

If only he showed an ounce of personality, she would be delighted by him, but Mark Lee is a mess of shaking eyes and smiles that showcase his high-cheekbones.

In his music, however, she does see a bit more of contrast and shadows. He is more powerful, as if he was confident, he explodes and radiates confidence. Sometimes, she thinks that is the most interesting part of him, when he finally breaks through the barrier that was created for him.

“What deal?” Her Aunt asks in between gritted teeth and with a small chuckle, she pulls away and rubs the back of her neck.

It shouldn’t be that bad, right? “I’ll finally accept going out on a date with Mark.”

The confirmation makes her Aunt perk up. “As in Mark Lee?”

“Yes.” She wants to scream at the top of her lungs, frustration growing like flowers around her chest when she is reminded of who she is, just another controlled rich kid that will end up doing what her publicist and her family tell her. Suddenly, she realizes that she needs to go through this, a little bit of lies just to get to her main dream. Once she shows her investments are matters of success, then she won’t have to take Mark out on a date anymore.

Seriously, were they going to go out on one of those expensive dinner dates with awkward silences lingering everywhere?

Terrible sounding, honestly.

Her Aunt seems delighted, clasping her hands together and squealing in happiness. “Let me tell your parents about this—”

All because of her cars. She repeats to herself. The nightmare could be lived through if only she thought about that.

It doesn’t down her just how long it had actually been since she had gone out on a date until she is actually inside her car, driving towards Mark’s mansion to go pick him up. Luckily for her, he had no objections on being the one picked up—as long as he could pick the restaurant they went to—but now she is starting to think it was a bad decision. Awkward silences were to be expected, maybe some awful joke from Mark…or some type of pre-relationship promise that most desperate guys make. She doesn’t know why, but he seems like the type to say ‘I love you’ on the first date.

Still, she is as nervous as it can get. As nervous as she was for her first race, almost. Mark is not necessarily bad looking, and he is a gentleman at its finest, he is intelligent and the key for her to keep her car, so she wants this date to go the best it could be. His wide eyes and nice smile were imprinted in her brain from the last moment she saw him years ago, but all she knew about him was a phone number and the text messages they exchanged. She had seen pictures of him, he looked manlier, but there was still a boyish aura to him.

Never trust the innocent-looking ones, her best friend once said and with that in mind, she decided to go pick him up in her most loved car—a Lamborghini Veneno. Something good about being rich, or unfair for those who were not, was that she got a lot of discounts in those special-editions of cars and she got at least forty percent off the real prize of the car just for a little of advertisement. She remembers the moment she first stepped into it, the red leather seats, the fresh smell of a new car, the pedal that called out her name for it to ride the streets of Seoul like a bird flying through the skies. She feels confident with her body clad in a pretty white dress with a bit of a tasteful neckline, the lace at the hem of the sleeves and the skirt making it look more put together and even when she has high-heels on, she still feels fully capable of driving that car to the end of times.

The equilibrium and balance of life is put off, yet, by the mere existence of her car in front of Mark’s family mansion, or his, she doesn’t quite know. She has fought her hardest not to go out on a date with the boy and now she was there, biting at her nails, wondering why she even dressed up that prettily when she prefers oversized tops and nice fitted jeans. She knows Mark has prepared this date for years—because he is probably stuck to the idea that they were going to end up together and she can see it in his eyes whenever he sees her that there is curiousness that is caused by her, but there is not a single brain cell that understands the start of said paradigm.

Mark Lee is the heir of an entertainment company. Rich. Talented. Definitely a sweet boy…and all he ever wants is her: the dangerous, definitely not as exotic and eccentric, racer that just uses her money to her own benefit.

Like anyone who is rich, really.

She leans back on her seat, tapping her nails against the underside of the steering wheel. Now, she thinks, what could go wrong? Mark’s mindset is not as complex as she is making it out to be. Mark thinks of women as difficult beings, with blushed cheeks and shaky hands and a lot of time in his hands to drool over pretty ladies on Instagram. She definitely shouldn’t feel overpowered because he is, technically, richer than she is or because he is not that bad looking.

She is there for a mission—getting out of that date as soon as possible.

A knock on the surface of the passenger’s window makes her jump from her seat the slightest bit, turning to the side to see that Mark is standing there. Without a second thought, she pushes the buttons to open her door automatically, the young man giving a few steps back to look at the door in awe. In her books, Mark seems like the type that drives around with his chauffeur to fulfill the necessities of his career, studies and hobbies, but other than that she would be surprised if he ever passed his driving test.

“Oh shit,” Mark curses under his breath, looking to the door that was lifted up and then back at the car, pondering on what to do next. He has his hands interlocked in front of him, moving his weight from one foot to the other before finally stepping in. He sits down on the passenger seat, thankfully, and there she can finally see how Mark has dressed up for their date. A blue suit covered his slender body magnificently, the sleeves showcasing golden buttons that united in perfect neatness, the collar of his white shirt perfectly aligned with the collar of his jacket to create parallel lines of faultlessness. The taut muscles of his thighs are hugged by the fabric of his trousers, but her gaze doesn’t linger on the body of the young man for long, aiming to look brazen instead of bothered, but she does take a good look at his face. Fine eyebrows welcomed the sight of his brown eyes, not particularly the biggest but clearly innocent, with high cheekbones and a nice set of small yet lustrous lips. “What kind of car is this? It’s so cool!”

She closes the door with the same button, a smile tugging at her face because she realizes she has the power once again. Once she leans back on her seat, Mark’s eyes settle on her face and for a moment, she notices the awe on his features. “Guess.”

“Ferrari…?” Mark asks, raising one eyebrow only to look down at her lips soon after, coated in red lipstick and momentarily, his tongue peaks out to lick his lips.

“Lamborghini.”

“Oh,” He announces for himself as she starts the car, driving it smoothly and safely contrary to what she is used to do. “I don’t know about convertibles much. It’s not my style.”

She can tell, quite clearly, although Mark is definitely a soft gush of breath to her. She can’t say that she is particularly fond of the men she meets in her races or in her meetings with investors, there was no in between: they were either sweaty males with adrenaline pumping from their veins and the sudden need to feel powerful behind a steering wheel with the stupid mindset of irrational competition or investors with high ambitions to create the closest thing that could come to perfection in the form of a car, though it is clearly quite unaffordable for those who did not have any money. She likes her men with more than money exuding from their personalities, for there are things a few bills can’t afford. “I figured.”

The black haired boy fiddles for a moment and then, he clears his throat. “Can I put the address in your GPS?”

“Go ahead.”

While Mark concentrates on that, she tries to find out what was the splendid smell that surrounded her car. It reminds her of the sweet white chocolates she gets every Valentine’s Day and it definitely must be Mark’s cologne—dulcet, just like him. His fingers move against the screen softly, his breath barely audible, the silence thick until he finally decides to break it. “Y-You look gorgeous. Like an angel.”

Her heart shouldn’t have stopped; she shouldn’t have stolen a glance at the bashful expression on his face but how could she not? It’s not always that someone compares the Devil to an Angel. She chuckles, however, shaking her head the slightest bit. “You know; I was going to say the same thing about you.”

The hopefulness is felt in his every word when he replies with wide eyes. “Really? Is that what you think?”

And surely, she might not be there because she actually wanted to, but there is no doubt that Mark Lee is a striking person. “Should I think otherwise?”

“No, no!” He adds, almost as if he does not want her to change her mind. “I’m glad, actually.”

“Why are you glad?” She asks, taunting him, playing with fire and adrenaline is what she loves doing the most—but Mark is the dull water, he would never hurt her, he seeps through her fingers and falls down onto the same spot.

“Ah…I don’t know.” Mark finds himself a loss of words and then, he breathes out softly. His mind must have been attacked by the thought of an awkward silence, she watches from her peripheral vision as he settles his hands on his knees, looks around the place and finally, when he gets to speak up his voice breaks the slightest. “So, what do you normally like to do?”

It is when they arrive to Mark’s restaurant pick that she realizes he really likes her.

The long chandeliers, tall ceilings, perfectly put table cloths, the delicious food in small sizes and big flutes filled with champagne that later on were changed for the richest red wine, all those things were choices of Mark Lee, as simplistic as he could be when talking to her but exquisite in his own mindset. He plays with his hand and even when she tuts him by fluttering her eyelashes softly or leaning over the table just so he could get a glimpse of her cleavage, he still manages to be the perfect gentleman. He rambles, speaks and then listens, he is simply made to give her that awkward laughter of his when he throws a joke her way and she would be lying if she said that she does not enjoy the peach color that spreads through his neck and cheeks when she compliments him on something (“You’re so talented”, for example, or “Please, don’t be afraid to laugh, you look fine!”).

To her, she thinks going out on a date with Mark is just a momentary way to get her cars back—no, her freedom back, but with every compliment of hers and the passing of the dinner, Mark takes sips of his red wine and while she asked him earlier on the date if it was too sweet for him, he said it was fine. Sooner than later, his eyes start getting glossy, his hands more fidgety, he starts slurring his words and he reacts too pointedly when her high-heeled foot does so much as grazing his calf. It is not nervousness anymore; it is something else.

After Mark takes his last big bite of Crème-Brûlée, she decides to speak up on the issue. “Mark, is this your first time drinking red wine?”

He widens his eyes, as if he had been told the biggest insult he has ever heard on his life and with a shake of his head, he takes another big swing of the drink. She leans over the table and takes the glass away from him, the man trying his hardest to swallow all the red liquid that passed by his lips, which were tinted in a pretty shade of red. “N-No!” He comments easily. “You think I’m this innocent, little boy but…Am not! I have drunk that before.”

“What did you drink, Mark?” She asks, knowing that if he answers incorrectly he is definitely drunk.

“That thing that looks like blood.”

“And what’s its name?”

“…Please, tell me it’s not blood.”

She takes that as the cue to take Mark out of the restaurant. She calls the waitress over, giving her, her credit card so the dinner could be paid for and while the waitress is dealing with that, she stands up from her seat to take care of Mark. The young man lets his weight fall on top of her when she pulls him up his feet, his forearms barely grazing across her chest when she whispers to him. “God, Mark, you shouldn’t have drunk that much if you don’t know your tolerance to alcohol. Now I have to take you home like this—” He mumbles something along the lines of ‘sorry’ and one look at his apologetic face was enough for her to release a sigh. Since when did she like the fact that he was so innately cute? “Is your mom in the mansion?” A nod confirms her suspicious. “Okay, we’re fucked.”

“We—what?!” Mark asks in a hushed mumble with a frown on his face and his nose scrunched up.

“We are fucked, I said. As in, in trouble.” She explains while wrapping one of her arms around his waist and picking up her purse with the other. Mark’s weight is not as hard to lift as he walks by her side, a little dumbly but enough to not crush her, and with her free hand she catches her card when the waitress gives it to her with the excuse of wanting to see them again sometime. She takes a bit of money out of her purse to give it to the waitress in a rush before stepping out of the door. “Do you think your mom would be really mad if she saw you drunk?”

Mark juts out his lip in response. “Not drunk.” He replies and she sighs, throwing his body gently against the car, his hands expanding over her window as she searches for the keys to her car.

“In case you were drunk,” She starts, only to stay in Mark’s drunken good side. “Would she be mad?”

“I guess…” Mark trails his voice, resting his cheek against the roof of her car and she presses the button to open the door, tugging Mark’s arm before he could get hit by an electric door. His back collides with his chest and then, he squints his eyes as he looks around the place. “I think a ghost is here. I felt a t-tug…”

“That was me.”

“Oh, cool.” Mark laughs and she shakes her head, trying to bite back a smile as she places him on the passenger seat. Her fingers play with the seatbelt before securing it around him, patting his thigh before mumbling a small ‘I’ll be right back’.

Once she is in the driver’s seat, she realizes that she needs to come up with a plan, one that she explains to Mark briefly while he plays with his tie. She imagines that pretending that Mark has a stomachache is better than telling his mother that he is drunk, so she tells him that he needs to cover his abdomen and pretend he is in pain, something that his drunken mind seems to understand. She doesn’t know what is so adorable about the man nodding his head to the sound of her voice, but there is something stirring inside her chest that tells her that she thinks the mood around them has casted a new light on Mark.

Surely, Mark was not exactly her type—she believes, but now she could consider him as a remote male in society. Nonetheless, she cannot help but feel a bit bothered when he holds her waist lazily as she walks towards Mark’s mansion after the guards opened the gates for her. She is trying to keep her balance, but Mark’s chest is pressed to her back and his legs are too close to hers, his breath falling upon her neck. A shiver runs down her spine but she tries to fight it back, opening the entrance door to be welcomed by the typical and extremely over-decorated mansion of a rich family.

“Where’s your room?” She mumbles the question to Mark, whose forehead was pressed to her shoulder vaguely. He lifts up his gaze and from the corner of her eye she can see a bit of confusion on his face before he responds.

“Up the stairs. Third room on the second hallway.” Two hallways could be seen upstairs, but there were two places to go to: left and right.

“Is the second hallway to the left or to the right?” She moves up the stairs as she says so and Mark finally takes one good look to his own mansion before humming.

“I think left.”

“You think?!”

Left it shall be, she guesses as she walks with Mark trailing behind her, the eyes of the maidens and the workers there lingering even from far away. She curses under her breath when she hears the sound of a door opening and she is welcomed by the sight of Mark’s mother, who decides to call her name in a charismatic manner. To her, all that she can think about is nudging Mark’s side to take him away from her and the drunken young man seems to take the hint, because he clutches his stomach (caused by her elbowing, really) and a soft grunt leaves his lips. “Oh no, what are you doing here so early? Is Mark alright?”

Innocence is not a trait that she has worked with but she tries her best to twirl one strand of hair in between her fingers before resting her hand on Mark’s shoulder. “The Crème-Brûlée was not that good and I think he has a bellyache.”

His mother immediately goes towards him and she silently prays that Mark doesn’t dare to speak close to his own mother because the smell of alcohol easily leached through his breath. “My baby, is that true?” Mark nebulously nods his head, making her smile to herself. He listened to her. “You’re so sweet for bringing him here. He has a sensible tummy, have you ever heard about that?”

Mark blushes at the sound of those words and she chuckles, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not really, but he does look really sensitive.” He sends daggers to her through his gaze when he squints his eyes, resting his head on his mother’s shoulder and she smirks mischievously, pointing towards the stairs. “I can leave now, I guess.”

A female voice interrupts her, however. “Don’t you want to stay for a bit?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t, sorry. I have to get up tomorrow for class.” She flutters her eyelashes prettily and Mark’s mother gasps at the sound of her voice.

“Such a studious girl!”

“Thank you.” She swats her hand as if it was nothing and then, she clears her throat. One glance at Mark has her heart fluttering—at least she got to know that Mark has some edges to his personality, something hidden within him, even if it was the fact that he was a lightweight. “Mark, text me in the morning to see how you’re doing okay?” He nods once again and she repeats the action, going down the stairs while she concentrates on stopping herself from smiling.

The next day, she wakes up to the sound of her phone vibrating with a bunch of apologies and thankfulness from the hungover young man.

When her mind is filled with worries from studying, travelling or overall socialite problems, she always finds solace in her cars and a little bit of racing. There are events to showcase the cars and professional racers take up on showing a company’s newest product, though she always manages to sneak in and be behind the wheel every once in a while. Unluckily for her, people were gushing over this new racer with taut muscles and a dimpled smile, so she had not been able to place her hands inside the Mazda the male is driving, she finds herself having a good time speaking to her two friends—Jieun and her girlfriend, Mina.

Mina is, indeed, a professional racer with a career based on that, fairly as rich as she was, but Jieun is just as enthusiast of cars that she ended up meeting in one of the many gatherings that she had attended to in the past. The trio hear the sound of cars passing in front of them at inhumane speeds, feel their hairs being blown by the wind, clutch closer to their coats—or in the case of the couple, they just hug the coldness out—and her mouth runs when she thinks back of the night two weeks ago, the constant texts from the guy whose cheeks resembled two peaches, the way she smiles when she remembers just how interested he is in her.

It is quite a good thing to think about, that someone like him would like her to the point of being a fumbling mess around her. She is much too used to the typical types of guys that enter her life, the ones that give a smirk and call it a day, those who don’t try hard, whose mouths are used to compliments that smell like roses and cigarettes. She thinks of Mark as a pure-hearted guy, not particularly relaxed or extremely deep, but that’s the complexity of him—so simple she is interested.

It is a feeling that takes up her head whenever she hears a notification from him, that leads her to answering as soon as she can, that makes her think that flirting with Mark through text is fun, enough to take a few minutes out of her day, if not a little bit more.  

“Come on,” Jieun calls out as she plays with her girlfriend’s nails, her eyes settle on the woman in front of her and her funky, short hair moves with the wind as she speaks. “That guy sounds really sweet, like, too sweet. And this is weird for me to say, since most men ain’t shit—but Mark sounds nice, nicer than anything you’ve ever liked.” There is some truth in what she says, definitely comes from a place of wisdom and understanding, but she still feels like she does not want to fully give into Mark. She wants him to try, to see the cards that he has under his sleeve, to watch his cheeks burn in embarrassment time and time again, and see if he can make her blush, too.

Mina continues with her girlfriend’s train of thought. “You know her, she’s always neglecting the thought of a relationship. You should stop doing that.” Now, Mina is talking to her and she perks up, playing with the edge of her bomber jacket quietly.  “Besides, if you stopped responding to his texts I would consider believing you, but I haven’t seen you like this for the longest time.”

She scoffs, her lip-gloss coated lips catching a few of the hairs that fell to her face, but she takes care of pulling them away as she speaks. “What do you mean ‘like this’? I am like I always am.”

“No, you’re not.” Mina responds, placing her hands on top of Jieun’s shoulders. “Well, yes, you’re still the same grumpy ass as always—but listen, you’re smiling and that’s…whoa, that’s a huge step.”

“You say it as if I don’t smile, ever.”

“…Uh…” Jieun’s girlish chuckle is heard from her spot. “Alright, yeah, let’s ignore that. You don’t, simple as that, you never…smile.”

She brings a smile to her face, showing all her teeth with a big beam. “There. A smile.” She replies through gritted teeth and Mina laughs at what she did.

“Gorgeous.” The sarcastic comment makes her roll her eyes before dropping her smile, resting her cold hands inside her pockets. It would not hurt to have someone holding her hand, warm and candid, touch made by heaven of two little fingers interlocking before the other set of fingers follow closely. “But really, dude, how long has it been since you’ve actually gone out on dates and crushed on someone and just had fun? Pretty long.”

“I don’t need all that.” She replies, more-so to herself because she has always had a set mindset: ‘Never follow anyone’s rules, but yours’ and her rules were success, adrenaline and fun. She releases a breath she did not know she was holding, promises herself that life does not start or end in a man—life is all about herself, about what she wants to do with her dreams and goals and how she turns them into a reality. The stupid part is that she really wants to make out with someone, no, not only that but her mind is considering the thought of cuddling with a person, a mess of tangled limbs and the sound of joyful laughter coming from a nice set of pink lips. In her imagination, she can feel a person’s collarbone resting against her cheek as she lays on their chest, with warm arms wrapped around her and little whispers in the shapes of ‘you’re my entire world’ go through her ears, to the other and then they never come back. It is only luck (or unluckiness, really) that Mark comes in handy as the man in said scenario. “I don’t need a man, point, dot, end of the story. Drop the curtain, cue the applause—”

Jieun pries, as always. “We know you don’t need a man!”

“Look at us, we also don’t need a man!” Mina compliments what her girlfriend is saying and the shorter woman throws a smile over her shoulder towards her partner. “But needing romance every once in a while is not bad. Not even romance, a fling—or a cuddle, or a hug, or a kiss. It’s natural to most people, you shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

She watches as the dimpled racer gets out of the car and she stands up quickly, dusting off her hands in her jeans before speaking over her shoulder. “We’ll have this talk later.”

Hopefully later means never.

The perfect person can be described a million times by different people, for some are pickier than others, superficial or not there is always a trait that is highlighted whenever a person meets a potential partner. It’s simple science, even though someone tells you they don’t have an ideal person in mind or a type—it’s a lie, though a white one or a huge one depends on the person. There’s always something, anything, personality-wise or not, that makes you feel like a person is just…irreplaceable.

Contrary to what one would believe, the adrenaline-seeking woman is not particularly fond of the bad boys and the clichés. It’s not always that she lives the moment outside of a car, but whenever she has free time she likes to do other things, like complaining to her friends about the failed project that was the movie for the book Invisible Monsters, or simply watching one, two or three TV shows, maybe one cartoon here and there. She likes someone who can bring so much excitement in her life but is willing to be calm somewhere along the way. She doesn’t want lobster and big cars, tight dresses and faint make-outs, she wants someone to take her breath away, to give her attention in the form of a smile and a touch that sets her ablaze, for she likes playing with fire but she doesn’t want to get burned, she just wants the thrill of having someone give her balance, knowledge and excitement all at someone.

Something that, quite impeccably, Mark doesn’t seem to understand and strangely enough, she is not against it. For, in his own brain, giving her all those things that she mentioned before was the way to her heart—hey, she doesn’t particularly blame him, dinner the other night was exquisite with him and the beach he has brought her to, are good ideas for dates. Clichés but good dates. However, what brings her back a second time to the presence of the heir Mark Lee is not his wallet or his pretty smile, it is the blush on his cheeks whenever she talks to him, the fidgeting of his hands because he oh-so-desperately wants to hold hers, the sound of his voice when he speaks about music and those shows that he likes to watch.

It’s in his will and passion to reach what he wants to aim for and she is his next target, though she is not sure if he is that talented.

He might be, just like he might not.

The clashing of waves towards one another is faint in the background, her sneakers keeping the sand away from her feet, her arms crossing over her chest as she walks alongside Mark in the private beach that he has rented for the two. There is a hotel nearby, one that she hasn’t gone to…or maybe she has, she believes Na Jaemin’s eighteenth birthday party was held there. It smells faintly like the beach, mixed with Mark’s cologne that is still too sweet for her liking but even the sight of him was teeth-rotting.

It’s not quiet when she is with Mark, thankfully, because he makes the most out of asking her questions and her answers have grown substantially in length ever since their first date thanks to all the exchanged texts in the past few weeks. His voice is pleasantly there, as if he would never fleet away and she thinks he looks like his own version of a prince as he walks by her side. Baby blue hoodie on, his hair combed through with his own fingers, his shorts hanging snugly around his hips and his smile as bright as the sun that is quietly disappearing into the sunset.

Sooner than later, she hears the sound of a bird passing by them, making her jump in slight fear at the noise, moving to the side to press to Mark’s side. It takes him a second to place his arm around her shoulder and the sound of his rich laughter interrupts her trance. She looks over to the side to see Mark laughing joyfully. “You got scared?” He asks in a mocking tone, feeling more masculine now that she had cuddled up to his side. “So much for being obsessed with adrenaline.”

“Huh,” She says, not pulling away from him but instead wrapping an arm around his waist to continue walking with him. “Get on a car with me and then speak, little boy.”

Mark shakes his head with laughter. “How do you even race if you get scared of a bird passing by?”

“I know the car will make noise because I’m stepping on the pedal. I did not know that bird was coming.” She points out with ease and Mark continues chuckling, making her roll her eyes before a smile spreads across her face. The perks of Mark Lee, the things he knows what to do—like making her laugh, even if it’s absentmindedly. “You know what? Let’s prove who’s real brave in between us.”

That seems like a challenge for him and he is far too entranced in holding her in his arms to even be paying attention that what that is supposed to mean, so he gives her a short nod before saying: “Sure, what’s in your mind?”

“Swimming.”

“Yeah…I don’t think so.” Mark replies with a bashful expression, pressing his lips together to show his high cheekbones. She knows that he is shy so with a tug of his shirt as she walks backwards, she drags him with her towards the water. “I-uh, I’m not like ripped, you know?” He gives a short chuckle that sounded highly awkward. She knows his insecurities are there, but she is there to make him feel better. “And…yeah, I know I brought you here to have fun at the beach but I’m shy.”

“Okay, yeah, I understand.” She tells him, bottom lip stuck in between her teeth and then, she stops right by the edge of the beach, wrapping both of her arms around his waist as she watches his face burn in embarrassment. “Then let’s swim with our clothes on.”

The black haired man nods his head delicately before she continues walking backwards, stealing a few glances over her shoulder to see where she is standing. Suddenly, after almost tripping for a few times but having Mark’s hands as leverage around her waist, she is inside the beach with the water reaching her waist hugging Mark, whose insecurities hopefully dissipate with the sight of her smile. “So are we just going to stand here?”

She shakes her head. “One question, though,” Mark nods for her to continue. “Do you know how to swim, like properly?”

“Yeah.” Mark replies absentmindedly and then, she clicks her tongue.

“I was going to push you into the water…but that’s mean.”

“What—?”

In the matter of seconds, her hands lift up to splash water towards his face, hearing as he chokes on the bits of water that enter his mouth. She laughs joyfully, enjoying the frown on his face as she continues splashing him, but sooner than later he retaliates, throwing water her way to fight back. In the matter of seconds, what was a little splash in the water turns into a mess of moving arms and short cuss words thrown towards one another mixed with laughter.

Without realizing, once she screams at the top of her lungs to call it a truce in between the two, they stop moving consequently and with one look into his eyes, she notices she is very close to Mark, with their chests flushed together and smiles on their faces that lull a bit with the pass of seconds, changing into a delicate beam. Mark’s hoodie is clinging to his abdomen, the strands of his hair glued to his forehead by the water and his cheeks are burning.

“You’re so pretty.” He says, looking all around her face and down to the material of her dress clinging to her body. He places his hands on her shoulders softly before whispering. “Uh…I think we need to go to the hotel. There’s a spa there and I’m sure they could dry our clothes while we get some massages done.” She doesn’t know what she expects, for Mark to close the gap between them, to taste his lips after dragging him closer by the fabric of his Balenciaga hoodie, or if she simply sees Mark in another light now. He had never been so pretty, so real, so like what she always wanted.

While a masseuse’s hands all up her back sounds like heaven, all she wants are his hands around her waist, his lips pressed to hers, just one little moment with Mark in complete and utter curiousness. “As long as you go with me.” She says, running her gaze up and down his body and Mark bites down on his bottom lip.

“Uh—Yeah, sure, of course, I wasn’t planning on le-leaving you alone.”

“I’m glad.” She whispers and then, she leans forward, pressing her lips to his cheek before wrapping her arms around his neck. “Take me there, prince boy.”

“Do you always have a nickname for me?” Mark asks as he walks out of the water while holding onto her, making her nod her head with a smile on her face.

“You react prettily.” She replies and after licking her lips, she continues. “Cute, honestly.”

It doesn’t surprise her when Mark falls to his knees as he gets out of the water, bringing her with him and spitting out apologies at the speed of light. Cute, that he definitely was.

“I can blow a big bubble of gum.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

“Isn’t it an excuse for me not to race while you’re in my car?”

“No…” Mark trails his voice prettily as he looks down at his hands, taking out a piece of gum and plopping it inside his mouth. He chews on it messily for a few seconds before unwrapping another piece. “Want one?” He asks and she nods her head, resting one of her hands on the steering wheel of her oldest car before opening her mouth, watching as Mark gently smiles before placing the piece of gum inside her mouth.

She tilts her head to the side, watching the empty road ahead of them and she wishes she could race in there, but then again, she doesn’t want Mark to be scared of her—and she loves the rush of a fast car, but she doesn’t want Mark to go through that, for she is worried about him. She would like to say the past few dates have not been of her enjoyment or that she doesn’t get excited when the guy by her side texts her, but she does. It’s stupid but Mark and his designer clothes and pretty words really do get to her, though he is humble underneath all he shows to the world. Inside her foreign car, she starts to wonder if Mark will ever make a move—or maybe she should do it, but then again, the teasing mannerisms and the waiting was quite exciting as well, but not enough to scratch the itch she feels within her mind. “So, show me the bubble.” She says, turning to look at him and letting go of the steering wheel as she chews on her minty gum. Mark raises his two index fingers up in the air.

“Peep this,” He tells her and then he makes an ‘o’ with his lips, his tongue pushing past the gum softly before blowing up the gum. At first, a small bubble appears and it grows bigger and bigger, sadly though it pops to the point the gum sticks to Mark’s cheeks. The man whines under his breath before muttering a small. “Shit, uh—”

She laughs loudly at that, leaning forward to brush her fingers against Mark’s cheeks to take the pieces of gum away from his face. “That—You’re so cute and funny, oh God.” She continues to chuckle as she rolls the small pieces of gum on her hands, throwing it in an empty cup of soda she had in between the two.

“That’s not how it usually goes.” And from the touch of her hands, she can feel Mark blushing and there is a big pout on his face. Always one to try to look cool in front of her, he is. “Now, I’m all sticky—”

“That’s okay.” She says and then, she looks into his eyes. Those eyes, brown and rounded that stare right into hers with an expression that she deems as embarrassment. Her fingers caress the side of his face softly, the gum he had been chewing thrown into the empty cup as well. When she takes one good look at Mark, she realizes that his feelings for her go from years to years, they start at hidden glances and smiles that never reached her. She thinks it is quite funny, how she had always thought of going out on a date with Mark as something that would make her weaker, but he supports her on her dreams and she supports him in his. Two young souls with dreams bigger than what they can reach finally join together in an expensive car, but even if they were in an alley with boxes under their feet, they’d still feel as strong as they feel when with the other. “Is there something on my face or…?”

“No, no.” Mark whispers and then, she takes the gum out of her mouth, throwing it inside the cup as well. His fingers reach for her wrist and he makes her turn towards him. “I’m really scared of racing.”

“I wasn’t planning on racing tonight.” She replies with a sweet smile and Mark sighs in relief.

“You should really stop racing, too. It’s dangerous.” Mark recommends and she shrugs her shoulders.

“…Don’t know.” Her voice is soft as she leans forward, their noses almost touching as Mark continues to hold her. “Why should I?”

“Because I care about you.”

She coos.  “Only care?” Her fingers trace the outline of his shoulders before wrapping her arms around his neck, looking down to his rosy lips. Mark swallows thickly at that. “You know, Mark, I know you like me.”

“Y-Yes.” Mark answers nervously and then, she chuckles.

“Good thing I like you, too.”

“You do?”

“Um, yes.” Sooner than later, she kisses Mark. The taste of him is simplistic, like minty gum and the bundling feelings of a crush that had built for years. His hands rest at her waist and he breathes in softly before diving in, all energy and power as he kisses her with tenderness before summersaulting into neediness. She wants to chuckle against his lips, but his way of kissing reminds her of how he had gotten drunk on their first date—there’s never enough for him and he takes her lips in between small sips. She leans her head to the side when he gentle nibbles on her bottom lip and she mentally raises an eyebrow. It’s funny how goody-two-shoes Mark Lee can have her heart racing faster than when she’s racing just with a kiss.

#mark scenarios #mark lee #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #nct fluff #mark fluff #nct au #mark au #rich kid!mark

[klaudiias]

hi hi hi !! i’m cami and i’m super excited to get to rp with you all and to get to know everyone. this is my intro for my cutie klaudia and i hope you love her as much as i do♡ 

( liz gillies, female, she/her ) oh hello, you must be KLAUDIA KINGSLEY it's so nice to meet you. Is it true that you're a SEVENTEEN year old LEGACY student in your SIXTH YEAR? I should warn you, rumour has it you're pretty ERRATIC & PROFLIGATE but I think you're really EFFERVESCENT & ASSERTIVE - People like to gossip around here, but you'll find out for yourself. Let me show you to CHAMBERLAIN. ( cami, 19, gmt, she/her ) 

background: 

klaudia was born and raised in yorkshire, england. her parents own an extremely successful law firm which they plan on leaving her when the time comes.

she was always aware of the type of people her parents defended; the filthy rich who didn't deserve to be defended. her plan is to get to law school to then help those who are actually worthy of her help and need defending. she is incredibly intelligent ( book wise ) and keeps her grades up to her parents expectations.

klaudia doesn't get along with her parents; she resents them because of how they use their wealth and status. 

the press has the perfect perception of her family and since the age of 15, she's developed a love for doing everything she shouldn't do infront of the press simply to try and ruin their image 

party after party, scandal after scandal, if she shouldn't be doing it she probably is, and with an audience. 

klaudia seems to be able to get away with everything she does and a part of her knows that she acts how she acts to get attention, be it negative or positive, from her parents. she's never been grounded or scoulded for doing things she shouldn't do and maybe that's something she yearns for, just so she knows that her parents care the way normal parents should. she wants them to worry about her and who she hangs out and where she goes but they don't care as long as she keeps her grades up to par but she can't let her grades drop because she wants to get into law school. 

she was raised by those who worked in her house and everything she knows about empathy and honesty was taught to her by her housekeeper, magadelena, who she considers her second mother. 

even though klaudia's parents do everything in their power to try keep her scandals quiet and out of the media, she always finds a way to get them out there. 

even though she's pegged as the wild child, klaudia is extremely caring and kind hearted to everyone she meets. she can't stand the rich snobby kid and their attitude but she puts up with it to a certain degree.

her family name and wealth get her in with what people would consider "the cool circle," but there is really only a select few that she would honestly call a friend.

>

she is liked by most people due to her easygoing nature minus the bitchy attitude. she fits in with the "cool girls" because they have similiar interests and they always seem to get up to no good but whenever something happens that she's not up for, she isn't afraid to say it and simply won't participate, even if they judge for her it.

>

she prefers hanging out with boys because she hates the girl drama.

of course the money was helpful bonus to have but she always longed for something more than the wealth and riches which is why she can sometimes be a bit of a hopeless romantic. she puts her all into her friendships and this sometimes gets thrown back in her face which causes her to slowly rebuild her walls back stronger each time, making it that bit harder for the next person that comes by.

personality: 

effervescent --- klaudia’s vivacious and enthusiastic spirit is captivating and is what generally attracts people to her. she is lively and lives for the thrill and this attitude is contagious to those close to her, which makes her fun and exciting to be around. confidence and a positive outlook is something she never seems to lack. 

candid --- klaudia is nothing if not truthful and straightforward. she says things how they are, but is considerate and careful as to how she words it. honesty is something she doesn’t struggle with. she is the type of person who you can trust to give you their utmost honest opinion but also the person to keep you in check, even if she can’t keep herself in check sometimes. 

assertive --- klaudia's confident and forceful personality can sometimes come off as intimidating but once you get close enough to actually speak to get and get a sense of what she's like, intimidating is the last thing she is which may be contrary to popular belief.  

erratic --- her unpredictable behaviour makes klaudia dangerous to be around. she takes spontaneity to another level and more times than not, this ends up with her, and anyone involved, in trouble. sometimes, she needs someone to knock her down a peg and keep her in line but she is difficult to deal with at times due to her being. 

profligate --- money to klaudia is something she can never seem to run out of, but that doesn't mean she won't stop trying. she is very into extravagant spending but to make herself feel better about she likes to donate to charities under a different name so no one knows it's her. she is reckless and irresponsible when it comes to money but no one complains. 

stubborn --- when klaudia sets her mind on something, she does it. she is strong willed and stubborn, like her father. it’s hard to change her mind when it’s already been made up. her strong opinions and adamant nature can make her difficult to deal with, but everyone has their thing, right?

other facts: 

she's bi bi bi. 

she's a scorpio.

her favourite scent is anything coconut but she hates actual coconut.

her favourite colour is red; her favourite lipstick shade is patsy red by charlotte tilbury ( idk why anyone cares buUUuuT ). 

she is an occasional drug user on her nights out or if she's feeling like chasing a high.

her favourite drink is a dirty martini or a rum and coke.

i plan on developing her a lot throughout the course of the rp but that basically sums her up i guess. i’m super excited to start and i can’t wait to get to know all of you lovely people!! i’m also a sucker for plots and i love ic drama soooo if any of you want to plot with me,, just slide into my dms or like this post and i’ll hit you up for some plotting♡

#bmhq.intro #˚ · – out of character #˚ · – tw: drugs #// love her & me pls

[mootmuse]

i feel shitty because i can’t do anything. this isn’t new. no matter how much i talk about it it’s not going to change and the longer i go without being able to accomplish the simplest damn thing the heavier it gets. even if i’d been able to figure out signing up for my work’s insurance i’d be surprised if walmart covered therapy, and i can’t bring myself to sign up to hand over just any random person that amount of money out of my pocket just because some online profile on psychology . com or whatever says they’re good at what i need them to be good at. i don’t properly know what went wrong with my last attempt at therapy except that maybe the person just wasn’t good, because i DO have a problem that i need solved and the problem is that i can’t accomplish anything and fuck, maybe i DO just need a life coach like the first therapist told me but that’s the same problem! lots and lots of money for no guarantee, and i’d rather have a psychologist who focuses on why people might think like I think and what might be causing this. 

i want to do so many things. i want to do anything. i want to live. instead i’m just like, waiting to die except i don’t want to die either, i’m just here? i can’t handle any stress but i don’t actually do anything either so from the outside you couldn’t tell. i can’t even distract myself with hobbies or friend stuff because you need to do things to have interests that other people can engage in, otherwise friendships can’t form, and the reason i’m so miserable is that i can’t do hobbies. i started a couple fics but then the next day just couldn’t, COULDN”T make myself keep going and I hate this so much, and there’s just no end to it. not without therapy i can’t make myself sign up for. i asked on a couple sites if anyone had therapists that operate online that they could recommend, even if that woudl mean that therapist didn’t have specialties in the areas i’d need them to, but no one had any recommendations. 

i had a rare period of time of feeling hopeful yesterday, hopeful that i’d be able to clean my room out enough to make room for a new computer that might allow me to play games (distractions), if i could make myself do them, and which i might be able to buy a drawing tablet for and try to draw. but today i’m back to not seeing how it’s ever going to happen. i’ve chopped it up into as small, bite sized tasks as i can and i still don’t do it. 

even writing woudl be something, it’s the way i’ve gotten by for years because when i can’t do anything usually at least I can do that - and when i can’t it doesn’t last. but it’s lasting. i can’t do anything but be here and, on good days, scroll tumblr/pintrest and maybe find something interesting to listen to, and on bad days i can’t do even that bare minimum of distraction, and nothing is going to help. there is no way out that i can take. a person who didn’t have the problems i have would be able to get a therapist but if i could get one i wouldn’t need one. 

i can’t even make friends to distract myself. i said that before but it’s one of the worst things about this. i’ve been trying. i’ve been trying but there’s just nothing about me that people can engage with. not a single damn thing. 

i don’t know why i’m even here if i’m just going to never do anything for my whole life and then just die and disappear. it sucks. i started life out being like, okay, i’ll accomplish something in the course of my career, and then i was like well, that’s going to be a bust, how about i accomplish finding a close relationship to share my life with and that’s been a bust too, and then i scaled it down and went like, okay, i’ll find little hobbies to keep myself happy and that’s sort of falling apart now too. every single goal i set for myself, every attempt to scale my dreams down into something my useless malfunctioning ass can actually handle, fails. 

i’m just here in the first place because mom thought she could time her periods instead of using protection and she decided to have me because she’s an optimist, which was really fucking reckless of her. this is my airing my dirty little thoughts about myself, not a judgement about anyone else, but it’s so goddamned irresponsible to have children, especially if you KNOW mental issues run in your family. i didn’t want this. to be fair mom is more functional than me, she had no way to know i’d turn out as a useless lump, but i still resent it. i can’t even accomplish the smallest simplest version of any life goal i set myself and then one day i’m just going to die and stop existing and that will be it. 

i think sometimes about the things i’d do if i was a normal person who could accomplish anything at all, and one of those is a piece of art fantasy me would do. it’s dumb and melodramatic but this is the place for that. so it’d be me fastened to the ground, chained down to it, sinking into the mud while i watch everyone else fly. i read a tumblr post once that said that thought processes when you’re a kid come back like - if you’re depressed as a kid the thought patterns come back. i don’t remember the details of the post, the point is that in times of stress i find myself thinking, ‘i want to die’ even if intellectually i know for a fact that isn’t true, and i’ve been thinking it over and over and over and over and i’ve been trying to shake it for years but in times of stress - and the things i can’t do have been piling up and i am very very stressed - it comes back. it’s been coming back a lot. 

maybe part of the reason the first therapist thought i didn’t have problems was because i was happier when i was in therapy. i was happier because i thought i was going to get better. (that’s still no excuse for repeatedly telling me she didn’t know what to do with me. i was straight up with her about my problems and what i wanted to accomplish, not being able to figure that out or have any kind of plan to work on it is on her.) 

a weird thing about this is not knowing if i really can’t do something until i can’t. intellectually i know it’s easy. i know i’ve written fic before. i know i’ve rp-ed before. 

i might actually have to cancel the trip i said i’d take to visit dad. i might have to. i’ve never not been able to do something that big before, but i’m getting worse. i used to be able to handle important things, when it got down to the wire, and now i can’t. mom was helping me look at tickets one night and we couldn’t find anything good and i ran out of will to even watch her do it without any clear solution and said we’ll do this later and then the cat had kittens and we’re just not doing it and not doing it, and not taking that trip would be a real load off my shoulders. not that i’d be able to do anything with that load lightened - i couldn’t do anything before, and i won’t be able to after. but it would feel better. i’ve never let it go so long without getting tickets for a trip and asking for time off. 

i hope i’ll be able to write after this. the weird thing about being able to do nothing is that in your head, you really don’t know. it should be easy. it’s simple. look at me, i’m writing right now, even if it’s personal stuff that’s too long for any acquaintance (which is the only type of relationship i am capable of making) to be expected to read. i might cut some of this post down in hopes someone will read it, even though when i made it i told myself i wouldn’t care. what reason have i given anyone to have a personal stake in what’s going on with me anyway? not for lack of trying, but the fact is I just haven’t. 

i hope i’ll be able to write after this, but i’m really really scared i won’t be. it feels awful, not being able to do a damn thing but sit here and wait for something, anything, to lighten your life, knowing that anything is not going to happen because if it did it would have to come from you and you’re just not capable. 

how did i end up this way? how does any human person end up with all the skills in the world, all the opportunities most people could ever want, and be so COMPLETELY unable to act on any of them? i do think i’d be closer to functional if, by the time i was an adult and this was starting to surface in me, i’d had the kind of parent who had already taught me how to do basic life tasks so i’d have already formed habits for doing the basics that i’d need to do to at least sort of get by in life. but 99% of people don’t have parents who prepare them like that, I think. which is why I think most people shouldn’t have ever had kids. people are dumb. 

#xiilnek's personal post #idk what tag i usually use for that i always forget #just needed to air some shit out #don't have any other place to put these thoughts #negativity #i should warn for something but i don't know what #idk

[imgonnabeyourbubblegumwitch]

What’s So Great About Dewey?

A Dewey Duck Character Analysis and Appreciation Post

Part 3 - That bit in Secrets of Castle McDuck! & strengths as flaws. 

(Part 1 here, Part 2 here)

So we were back at the scene. 

As is completely in character for them, Huey and Dewey argue when the truth is revealed.

H: “How could you keep this from us?”

D: “I was trying to protect you from a potentially devastating revelation.”

H: “Or you just kept it to yourself so you could feel special. Classic Dewey. She’s our mom!”

D: “Okay it’s just – first I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. Then I couldn’t tell you because I found out all this stuff and I didn’t want you to hurt me. I’m sorry okay?”

H: “You’re only sorry cos you got caught!”

So Huey is, rightly, furious with Dewey. And Dewey reveals a lot about his thought processes, first saying he wanted to protect the other two, which is in keeping with his role as the hero. After all, even after everything in his talk show he still took his “brothers” with him when the security bot attacked.

Dewey then gets perhaps a little more honest and suggests he was also scared of the other two being angry when they found out and was avoiding that. Nonetheless he never directly responds to the accusation that he just wants to feel special, and his apology is not said in a particularly apologetic way. Look at his face after the argument with Huey. He’s angry, not sorry.

Dewey wants to prove himself to his older brother, but here he hasn't done that.

Not only that but he probably knows Huey is right and that’s likely half of what's frustrating him. He doesn't want to hear what Huey has to say, because Huey has been too insightful. Huey has seen through him: past him doing a kind thing and protecting his brothers to him being self-centred and keeping something very important from him.

But because he seems to get into arguments with Huey fairly frequently, and because he expected an argument – I didn’t want you to hurt me -  the full extent of what he’s done hasn’t hit yet. Arguing with Huey isn't a shock.

But then he realises Louie isn't chiming in.

There’s a moment of sort of guilty realisation and then he looks over to Louie.

And then what he’s done hits him because Louie's response is a shock. It's out of character.

Dewey’s voice is full of trepidation when he asks: “Louie – are you okay?”. Dewey knows Louie is not okay but he asks anyway. He probably knows its futile but maybe he's hoping Louie will put on a brave face and Dewey won't have to face what he's done.

I think it’s really key that Louie isn’t crying here. Louie is the most emotional vulnerable of the group and the scardey cat of the brothers, and we see him break down into tears (some real, some fake) quite a lot. But here he’s holding back the tears. He’s not crying, but he is so incredibly emotional and you can hear it in his voice.

L: “You kept a secret about mom – that’s is not okay.”

Look at Dewey’s response.

He wanted Louie to look up to him. He wanted to be Louie's hero. Here he definitely isn't.

Dewey’s desire to stand out can come back to bite him in other ways too. In Jaw$! we get to see the triplets hang out together and when they sneak off into the money bin, Dewey is the one to get eaten by the shark first because he was the one attempting the dive. Rushing off to prove he can be a good adventurer also would have gotten killed pretty quickly in the first episode had Uncle Donald not been around to look out for him.

So we can see that Dewey is pretty reckless, that he can be irresponsible, that he doesn't think about the consequences of his actions, especially the potential consequences for his family. He has good intentions, for example I think the desire to protect his brothers from a horrible truth about their mom was at first completely genuine. However he can get caught up, in feeling special or in solving a mystery, and it's then that his irresponsible side can cause him and others trouble.

This is perfectly highlighted in The Last Crash of the Sunchaser, when his determination, self-centeredness, and irresponsible nature endangers and ultimately breaks his family apart. I'm not going to touch too much on this now because I want to talk about that episode as well as The Night of De Spell/Shadow War in a lot more detail later on when I look at parallels between the triplets and Scrooge, as well as the triplets and Scrooge, Della, and Donald.

What is great about Dewey is that his flaws are also some of his strengths. I saw a really good post on using strengths as flaws recently which I thought I'd liked but hadn't, else I'd link it here. Essentially it was talking about character building and how the best flaws aren't the ones that are tacked on at the end but the ones that can also be a characters strengths.

Take Dewey. His impulsiveness can also be enthusiasm and Dewey is certainly enthusiastic. Not only that but The Missing Links of Moorshire showed how his impulsiveness, if used in the right way, can be beneficial. Though it clashed with Scrooge's steadier, more measured style, Dewey's more instinctive, impulsive playing technique worked in the Druid Cup. It worked so well that Dewey was the one who made the last shot and saved the family.

Dewey's daring is the softer side of his recklessness and it makes him a good adventurer. When he's not accidentally endangering Uncle Donald, or destabilising a worm-hole covered mountain, Dewey is a good adventurer. He's not easily frightened and he  seems to genuinely enjoy adventure for adventure, rather than for a reward at the end unlike a certain green duckling we could mention.

Dewey often doesn't think ahead to the consequences of his actions. To go back to the Missing Links of Moorshire! that made him a great golfer. When he tried to think ahead because his family was in danger and he needed the shot to be perfect, he struggled and eventually he just went with his gut. "Ah! Whack the ball! Whack the ball!" 

The more immediate thinking is also something that would be an asset on adventures, particularly when something happens you aren't expecting and there isn't time to plan. One of my favourite bits of Day of the Only Child (and I have a lot of favourite bits from the episode) was when Dewey used his "Huey" robot to attack Doofus Drake. He didn't think he just acted. Long term it probably wasn't the smartest move, however in the short term it gave Huey enough time to reprogram the robot and start zapping.

Dewey's other big flaw in his arc is his self-centredness in needing to feel special and on its own this isn't really a flaw. On its own its simply a product of wanting to differentiate himself from his brothers and not just be lumped in as one of the triplets. Of the three of them, Huey is most comfortable in their three while Dewey perhaps the least. Trying to figure out who he is when he's not in the sibling hierarchy is perfectly natural and understandable.

In fact many of Dewey's traits only become "flaws" when combined with other traits, or when they are taken to the extreme, and this is great because it gives him a lot of complexity and it also gives him a chance to grow and develop and work on his flaws and use them positively. 

It also makes him very realistic: in real life traits are often neutral until combined with other traits. As a real life example take the trait of being chilled out. It's neutral, neither good or bad. Combine being chilled out with not having a very good sense of time (neutral) and you might get someone who is always late or is a chronic procrastinator who never gets anything done.

(Even things such as good and bad character traits are almost meaningless as different people can think of things differently - people might have different opinions on someone being consistently late for example, but that's an entirely different sort of essay.)

Back to Dewey's traits. His self-centredness as we've discussed is understandable. However when you combine it with his recklessness and his tendency not to think ahead you get things like hiding the fact he's investigating his mom's disappearance from his siblings, or the entirety of Sky Pirates… in the Sky! (doo doo do doo… sorry it's compulsive at this point) which I've written about here.

Of course he has other traits too, not just those associated with his flaws and I’ll be looking at some of them in part four.

part four

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales #dewey #dewey duck #whats so great about... #character analysis #fandom

[staticscreenwriting]

the same sunset - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Whole Lotta Love 

The loud roaring of an engine breaks through the silence as Billy Hargrove races along the dimly lit streets of Hawkins Indiana. It’s like one minute the light rain covered the small town in a veil of peace and serenity and the next it’s broken by the sound of a camaro and Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love blasting from the car radio and one angry boy screaming along and thumping his hands against the steering wheel to the beat of the song.

Billy feels the adrenaline rushing through his veins, from racing, from the party he’s just come from and from fighting Mitchel Greenfield. From living recklessly. From feeling alive. From feeling something — anything.

He’s going too fast and he’s way too intoxicated but there’s not stopping now. Not when he feels like this, untouchable. What else could he want from a night ? He was the center of attention at the party, held his keg stand record, got his dick sucked by not one but two girls, got to put rich boy Mitchel in his place and to top it all off he got to rub it all in Steve Harrington’s face.

He can’t let this feeling die. Not ever. Especially not tonight.

Not tonight.

As those thoughts run through his mind he can feel the euphoric frenzy drain from his system. The excitement and the buzz make way for what’s actually going on inside of him and he hates it. All night he’s been trying to push that to the back of his mind, numb it with reckless abandon. He’s been chasing highs to keep the lows at bay. And yet they’re creeping back in.

So he’s pushing down harder on the gas pedal. The world around him passes by in a blur of lights and shadows. Trees and trees and more trees. Fields. Cows. A Pumpkin patch. Then there’s houses, mostly small ones. Not cute and homely like his used to be back in California. No they’re all dull and sad looking. Just like the one he’s living in right now. Just like the people here.

Billy hates this town and everyone in it. It’s all pretend here. Perfectly happy nuclear families living their perfectly happy lives only they’re all miserable. All of them.

There’s some diner at the end of the road, he knows Carol and Tommy go there on their soppy date nights. Supposedly the burgers are good but what do these Hillbillies know about good burgers anyway ?

He’s going too fast. He notices this as the street curves right and his clammy hands grip the steering wheel tightly trying to steer the car in the right direction only for it to slither and swerve on the wet asphalt.

If this is how it ends, Billy thinks, at least he’s going out loud and fast. Then he chastises himself for being so fucking dramatic. Then he hears the crunch of the gravel beneath the wheels. Then the scraping of metal against metal as his baby smashes right into the red ford truck that’s parked in front of the diner.

And then it’s quite again. There’s just the rain and the night and the quiet town of Hawkins Indiana blissfully unaware of how fucked up everything around here really is.

It’s really kind of ironic, Billy thinks as he wipes away the blood dripping from his nose where his head hit the steering wheel, almost dying on his own birthday.

He doesn’t get out of the car. Doesn’t even care about the damage he’s caused. He just wants to sleep and mute the throbbing inside his head. He’s so tired suddenly. Completely exhausted. So when he closes his eyes for a mere second, he’s out like a light.

Light breaks through the fogged up window of his car as Billy’s eyes open slowly. His head is still throbbing, maybe even more so and it takes a moment for him to remember why and how he ended up here. When realization sets in, his heart sinks.

He’s caused an accident. His first ever accident. If there was one thing Billy always prided himself with, it was his unwavering ability to drive recklessly and not cause any harm or damage. Apparently he wasn’t even good at that after all, Neil might have a point in his constant belittling of Billy.

Oh shit, Neil.

At the thought of his dad finding out about what happened, Billy’s heart speeds up, he starts to feel insanely hot and extremely cold at the same time. His hands get clammy and he feels like someone is continuously putting pressure on his chest. Suddenly the car feels too small, too contained like there’s no room to breath.

When he get out and takes in the air, still heavy with morning dew and fog, it feels like his lungs don’t even expand all the way. It’s all shallow breaths and quick thumping heart.

He thinks this is what he should’ve felt like last night when the accident happened, when he could’ve actually died. But no, he was strangely calm then. Death seems like the easy way out compared to dealing with the shit he’s gotten himself into now. Compared to confessing this to his dad. Death seems easy compared to living.

Billy’s eyes wander towards the red truck that he’s crashed into. The entire drivers side of the car is fucked up. There’s a huge dent, pieces are missing or broken and everything is just a whole entire mess.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t cry a lot but, especially in public, but in this moment all he wants to do is break down and sob. His eyes are already watering and his breaths are still shallow. He thinks he might be having a panic attack.

How the fuck is he supposed to explain this to Neal ? It’s impossible. He can already feel the sting on his cheek. He wonders what story to tell people in school when they wonder about the inevitable black eye.

There’s so much going on inside him at that moment. Above all, he’s scared. It feels like time stands still and moves in lightning speed at the same time. His heart stopped and thumps a mile a minute. He’s numb and yet he’s on high alert. Maybe dying would’ve been the easy part.

“ Well good morning sunshine “ a deep voice speaks up from behind Billy.

As he turns around his eyes meet those of a stranger. He’s a tall burly man with a thick beard that’s slightly but surely turning from a dirty blond to a silver grey. He’s intimidating in stature but his eyes don’t look angry as much as they look determined.

“ That’s my car you smashed there “ Pete continues as Billy stays unresponsive except for his eyes who seem to latch onto every word Pete is saying, as if it takes a moment for Billy to fully register them as they come.

“ Thought you was dead for a second but then I noticed you were just dead asleep. You wanna tell me what happened there ? “

Where the fuck did his ability to drive perfectly even when way too fast, even when intoxicated, go? It was a reckless, irresponsible and fucking dangerous talent but a talent nonetheless and that was a win in Billy’s book.

Why did he fuck up so hard this time ?

“ I uh — “ his throat feels like sandpaper, his word are heavy as cement blocks. “ I’m dead “.

It’s the only thought running through his head. It’s like whenever he’s trying to form coherent sentences, he’s drawing a blank. He’s dead meat as soon as his dad finds out about this.

If it was only his car that was damaged, he’s just try to scrap together some money and get it fixed but it seems as if his only has a few scratches and dents while the truck’s side is damaged like a squashed beercan.

He’s hyperventilating. It’s too much. He can take a lot, has learned to cope, has gotten used to it but even Billy Hargrove has a limit. And that limit has been reached, crossed and exceeded in this moment.

“ Kid ? “ a big warm hand comes down on his shoulder and Billy involuntarily flinches. Those touches don’t usually come with warmth and care and worry. They come with pain and resentment and misplaced anger.

“ Hey, hey kid. I’m not gonna rip your head off or anything. Don’t worry “

It’s not him he’s worried about though. Billy wishes it was. Wishes that his biggest concern was the stranger who’s car he wrecked. Wishes he could go home and explain what happened to parents who cared about his well being. He wishes things were different.

But they aren’t. It’s a shit show all around.

“ My dad is gonna kill me “

Billy meets the Stranger’s eyes again. He looks concerned. Understanding. Kind almost. Billy can’t fathom why the fuck this guy shows him anything but animosity. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve the kindness he’s coming his way. He’s fucked up. His dad might actually have a point after all.

“ Look, kid. That’s my diner right there. Let’s go sit down, I’ll get you something to eat and then we can talk, alright ? “

Billy wants to say no. He wants to tell the guy that he’s gonna get the money somehow and pay him all the damage worth. He wants to walk the fuck away from this mess. Actually he just wants the earth to swallow him whole.

But none of that happened because as his mind works a mile a minute, all jumbled up and confused, his body doesn’t. It’s like his physical form is on autopilot, following the man into the diner and sitting down on a red leather seat that looks like it’s seen better times.

It’s warm and cozy in here, a nice change to the chilly air of a mid November day. While the guy runs towards the back of the diner, where the kitchen is located, Billy’s eyes roam around the room.

The cushioned booths look like they’ve seen better days and the ceiling fan in missing a blade. There’s only a few booths, maybe 5, and 4 seats by the counter. It seems like they were trying to stay with a red white and black color scheme but abandoned the idea halfway through.

Nothing in here really matches but there is a certain kind of charm about it, Billy has to admit. This might just be the only place in all of Hawkins that doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t. It’s not perfect, it’s chaotic and mismatched and there’s things in here, like the waving cat figurine by the cash register, that clearly don’t belong here, but it’s not trying to deny it. It knows it’s imperfect and it’s okay if people know that.

Billy wishes he’d found this place under different circumstances.

A while later the man comes back, a plate filled with eggs and bacon in one hand, a steaming hot cup of coffee in the other. He sets them down in front of Billy and motions with his head towards the food. “Eat up !”

Billy is still flabbergasted by the irony of this situation. He’s so incredibly undeserving of the kindness, the food, the shelter. Hell, he doesn’t even deserve this man’s time.

“ I — I’m sorry “

Billy Hargrove isn’t one to say sorry. He’s living life at his terms, at his speed, with all the consequences and casualties that might pile up along the way. He doesn’t say sorry, ever.

Only this time he does because it’s the only thing there is to say. It doesn’t suffice but it’s a start.

The man is silent for a moment but Billy can feel his eyes on him. Not judging, but assessing him.

“ That’s good to hear. You do know I will have to tell your parents about this “.

Billy feels 5 years old again, being scolded for being a bratty child. Helpless, ashamed, sad. For the first time in a long time he’s being confronted with the reality he has created for himself. There’s only so much you can blame on the situation, on his family, his surroundings. In the end he’s the one who went down the easy route. The reckless one.

He’s never gonna admit any of that out loud, to anyone, ever. But that’s the way things are and he’s scared shitless that all his stupid teenage angst and post-pubescent anger is coming back to bite him in the ass now.

He wishes his mom was here. She’d be mad as hell, not because of the damage but because he got himself in a dangerous situation. She’s scold him, sure but then she’d also help him get out of this mess. Then again, he isn’T sure his mom would even like the person he’s become these days. He can’t even stand himself most of the time.

“ You — you can’t tell my dad. I promise I am gonna find a way to pay you back for the damages. I promise! “

Billy is talking out of his ass right now. He knows it and he’s fairy sure the guy knows it too. There’s approximately $12 in his wallet right now and another $23 stored in the shoe box beneath his bed. He’s got no job and he as hell won’t be asking Neil for money anytime soon. To be quite honest, Billy was royally fucked. But there was no way Neil could ever know about this.

“ How you gonna do that then ? “ the man asks, he still looks calm and collected and he even has a little smirk playing in the corner of his lips. Billy thinks that’s fucking weird, this guy should be chewing him up right now, not fucking smile at him.

“ I uh — I got savings “

He doesn’t.

“ and stuff I can sell “

Bullshit.

“ … and I’m sure my friends can help me out a little. “

What friends ? Tommy and Carol are the closest to a friend that Billy has right now and they are barely getting by as it is.

“ Just don’t tell my dad. He can’t know “

Billy hopes that the intensity of his voice, the begging tone, the sheer devastation in his eyes, comes across. Maybe appeals to the guy’s conscience. Sure he could be doing an emotional strip right now and put everything out in the open. He could tell the guy that if his dad finds out he caused an accident and has to pay for the damages, he’s in for a good old beating from his dear old man. He could tell it all and maybe awake some sort of pity in the guy. But his mother didn’t raise a snitch, didn’t raise a pussy.

Airing your family's dirty laundry in public just isn’t something the Hargroves do or ever did. No matter how dirty. No matter how bad. Those things stay behind closed doors where no one can see and no one can hear and no one can judge. So all the public sees is a fairly functional patchwork family that is trying their best to get on with their lives after they’ve been dealt some pretty shitty cards.

The man is silent for a moment, he rubs a hand along his beard and looks deep in thought. And then he looks up at Billy and there’s a pity in his eyes that Billy knows fairly well but hasn’t seen in a while. It’s that look that people have when they find out his mother died, the one he’s been greeted with for months after she had passed away. The one that comes with an abundance of “ I’m sorry”s and “ Let me know if there is anything I can do”s. Billy hates that look, usually. No I’m sorry is gonna bring his mom back. Today though, that look might just save his ass.

“ Look, boy. I uh — I don’t know what’s going on at home and if you don’t wanna talk I ain’t gonna ask. Thing is, I need this car to run errands and stuff. I live real close so I can walk to and from work but getting groceries, driving my little one to school ? That stuff ain’t gonna do itself. I got a proposition for you. “

“ Okay “

“ You ever worked before ? “

No. Billy has never worked a day in his life, not for money at least. Back in California, he used to help out his friend Mike and his dad at the garage sometimes, fixing cars and shit. That was more for fun than for anything else though. It was a nice time just hanging out with his friend and dad and drinking a few beers and working on cars. Just guys being guys. Stereotypical and outdated, probably but it was still fun. Something he wishes he could’ve done with his dad. If his dad wasn’t such an insufferable asshole.

“ Not really. I mean I know my way around cars and shit but — no. “

“ Well, here’s the deal. I need someone to run my errands while my car gets fixed. You do that for me, help me out whenever needed. When I don’t need you to drive anywhere you’re gonna help me out here at the diner. The money you earn goes into fixing my car. Once it’s paid off you get to leave and we don’t have to tell no one about it. But I need to be able to rely on you, kid. “

No one has ever really relied on Billy, in his entire life. It’s a heavy burden on his shoulder but what else is there to do ? It’s either this or facing Neil’s wrath. It’s either this or a black eye. A sore jaw. A bleeding nose. Over and over again.

“ Why are you doing this ? Why are you being — nice ? “

Sure, Billy isn’t an idiot. He is well aware that there are people who are just nice for the sake of being nice. People who just have it in them to show kindness to everyone no matter the situation. But that doesn’t mean he’s not still surprised and shocked when coming across someone like that. Maybe it comes with being surrounded by horrible people day in day out, maybe being a horrible person himself.

God, he sounds like an old bitter hag.

“ Man, I’m just trying to collect some good karma points until I’m stood before those pearly gates “ the guy jokes “ nah but honestly, you’re what 18 ? “

“ 17 “

“ 17! I’ve done stupid shit at 17. It’s just a car after all, no one got hurt. Lords knows I’ve been given seconds chances and thirds. Who says you don’t ? Just — just don’t make me regret it “

He probably will. If there’s one thing Billy is good at, it’s fucking up. That doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try his damn best to get this over and done as fast as possible, without completely messing up.

“ Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it. I’m Billy by the way “

“ Pete. Pete Finch “ He reaches out his hand for Billy to shake before getting up and walking towards the counter “ now eat up and go home. I expect you here showered and ready in a few hours. Your first shift starts at 5. I hope you suit red and white because there’ a uniform. “

Well things just can’t get any worse from here.

Things did get worse.

Billy is staring at himself in the little mirror that’s hung above the sink in the diner’s break room. He’s in a white shirt and jeans but they gave him not only a name tag but also a red bow tie and a ridiculous little hat thing that has the diner’s logo printed on it.

The Early Bird is a cute diner, a charming place really, but the uniform makes Billy look absolutely goofy. The shirt is too tight and paired with the bowtie it’s comically ridiculous at best and borderline stripper-esque at worst.

He just hopes Neil never stumbles into this place. Getting comments from schoolmates who might end up here for a burger and shakes, that he can deal with, but his dad ? Never !

It’s a fairly quiet day today. There’s a couple in one of the booths celebrating their 5 year anniversary and two families enjoying some burgers and fries. Billy has successfully charmed the mothers into buying the more pricey deserts. Moms, he thinks, are so easy to wrap around his finger. Maybe he gets to keep the tip.

Fumbling the pack of smokes from his jacket, Billy walks towards the back door of the diner. Pete has allowed him a few smoke breaks throughout the day, as long as he’s not needed urgently. Billy thanks the heavens for that.

The cold air hits his skin, as Billy steps outside into the crisp November evening. He misses the warmth of californian falls. He’s not made for a weather like this, cold and dry and uncomfortable.

Just as he is about to light a smoke, Billy notices a movement to his right. There’s a shiny dark red chevy chevelle parked behind the diner and on the hood of the car there’s a girl.

Her bright blonde hair is permed to the max and cascades down one side of her face. Her lips are painted a deep red that matches her car perfectly and Billy can just make out the shine of a metal ring through the left side of her nose. She’s wearing the same crisp white shirt he was given as part of the uniform only her’s isn’t too tight. Hers is tied into a knot at the front. Billy wonders if living here for a longer amount of time makes a person immune to the cold weather because there’s no way she isn’t freezing with her top exposing part of her midriff. Sure it’s not a lot and she’s wearing a jacket over it but still.

She’s clutching a book in one hand while the other flicks ash of a cigarette.

“ I can feel you staring, it’s rude “

She lifts her eyes up to catch his gaze. There’s a smirk playing on her lips as she notices she caught him off guard.

“ Well you got a nice car there “ Billy replies and walks down the small steps of the diner and towards the girl. The Chevelle is almost sparkling in what little sunlight breaks through the clouds. He loves his Camaro but this car is an absolute dream.

“ Thanks. Got if for my 16th birthday. Gotta share it with my dad now though, cause someone crashed his car “

Fuck. Of all the bad first impressions Billy has ever made, this is probably the worst of them all. He knows shit all about girls, other than maybe how to woo them into his bed, but he’s quite sure no one’s overly fond of people who demolish other people’s cars.

“ Yeah, I know that was you. You drive a Camaro, I noticed your car at school. People around here don’t usually drive cars like that so I put two and two together when dad told me what happened “.

“ Sorry about that “ he isn’t sure why he feels the need to apologize to her too but maybe Pete was right, maybe collecting some good karma points isn’t the worst idea.

“ I’m sure you are after he put you in that ridiculous uniform. I’m Cleo by the way. “

“ Cleo like Cleopatra ? “

“ Cleo like the pet goldfish in the Pinocchio movie “

Before he has a chance to process that fun little part of trivia, Cleo jumps off of the car and stomped out her cigarette. She swiftly unties the shirt and fumbles the nametag from the pocket of her jeans before pinning it to her uniform.

“ I’d love to stay and chat but I gotta start my shift. Oh by the way, if I catch you slacking in the job I’m gonna get real mad. I’m okay with my dad giving you a chance but I’m not gonna pick up your work if you’re being slow or unreliable. “

“ Uh yeah — sure. Noted “

He acts like a stumbling idiot. This whole situation has really thrown him for a loop. Get yourself together, man.

“ It’s all in the hair babe. People will hear about my good looks and my gorgeous hair and the burgers will sell themselves, you just sit back and watch “.

There we go. That’s the Billy everyone expects. Everyone knows. “ I’m B — “

“ Billy, I know. Everyone knows the new kid. Especially when he’s as cocky as you are “ Cleo laughs and opens the back door. Just before she enters the diner she turns back around, long curls twirling around her face.

“ Just so you know, the hat and the bowtie aren’t part of the uniform. He’s just messing with you, pretty boy “

Billy finally lights his cigarette as the door of the diner closes behind Cleo. His mom would slap him upside the head if she knew he had taken up smoking. She always hated when his dad did it and little Billy had to swear to her that he would never pick up on his father’s vices. But she had also promised him to be there forever, to never leave him and to always protect him and though the rational part of him knows that she isn’t to blame for her own death, a tiny part of Billy still holds some resentment. And that part enjoys his cigarettes very much.

His eyes fall back onto the shiny car as he lets his mind wander. His friend Chase has a Chevelle, they drove it all the way along the PCH one time during spring break. It was a roadtrip filled with shitty 7/11 food and nights of hardly any sleep but god, did they have fun.

He misses home. California and the sun and the beach and his friends. Mostly his friends. Actual friends. People who cared about him because they liked him as a person, not because of his status at school or because the ladies like him. Just because of who he is.

He misses it so much.

Then again, none of them have bothered to check up on him so maybe, maybe they don’t care all that much after all.

Maybe no one ever does.

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery fanfic #dacre montgomery fanfiction #tsmstorymasterlist

[just-come-baek]

Chills, Scares, and Cold Sweat

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader ft. a pinch of platonic Yoonmin and implied Kryber

Themes: smut | angst | haunted house!au

Word count: 12.7k

Summary: Ghosts and demons don’t exist, so how bad can it really get? In the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies. Taehyung’s words, not mine.

Warnings: late BTS Halloween special! Scary! (Not really) Backseat smut!

Masterlist

Okay, chill, you got this, I delivered myself a mental pep talk, as I stood in front of the house, my grip tightened around the suitcase handle, head high. The sun had already descended behind the horizon, grey skies casting a spine-chilling aura, the thick fog only intensifying the effect, putting everyone into long-awaited Halloween's mood.

The last days of October are just like that; everyone is hyped about Halloween, preparing slutty costumes, throwing amazing, unforgettable parties, trick-or-treating, and, obviously, scaring the shit out of friends, sometimes even posting the horrendous pranks online.

This year, though, my Halloween was going to be different. Not necessarily better, but definitely not like all the previous ones. I mean... it's not an everyday occurrence to participate in a paranormal experiment. Or in other words, being locked up in a supposedly haunted house for a couple of days. Thankfully, they pay quite handsomely, and I seriously need this money.

What's the worst that could happen?

It's not like demons or ghosts or other spooky creations exist.

That’s what I call; easy money.

With lips pressed together in a thin line, back straightened, I made a confident step toward the house; only to shriek a second later when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

Instantly, I turned around, my hands raised in a defensive manner, ready to attack whoever dared to touch and frighten me out of wits.

“Your backpack is so cute,” stated the man around my age, beaming, his boxy smile making everything brighter. “It has those cute kitten ears,” he added, his hands stretched, as if he wanted to touch it, “utterly cute.”

“Don’t sneak up on people like that,” I preached, my palm firmly pressed against my rib cage, my heart beating rapidly, as he almost put me through a severe heart attack. “Anyway,” I started dismissively, “are you participating in the, hmm... project as well?”

Smiling down at me from under his hood, he nodded, “of course, I’m Taehyung, and you are?” he introduced himself, his arm outstretched, so I could shake hands with him. Quickly, I greeted him and gave him my name, his wide beam never fading. “It’s gonna be so much fun, isn’t it?”

“It depends on what you’re into,” I promptly replied, giving him a faint smile, “if you like being conned and pranked, since this ‘experiment‘,” I didn’t hesitate to draw a quotation marks in the air with my fingers, “is obviously some kind of a sick hoax taken to a completely different level then yes, it’s gonna be a blast,” I grinned innocently, studying his expression.

“Oh,” he pouted slightly, “so you’re a disbeliever. Interesting,” Taehyung spoke, and I could feel his glance on me, as he looked at me from head to toe.

“What about you? Do you seriously believe in all of that crap?” I asked, my eyebrow cocked upwards, as I impatiently anticipated his reply. He’s something; if he really thinks that horror monsters are real, it’ll surely be interesting. “I mean... whatever is gonna pop out of nowhere must be staged.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen; in the worst case scenario, we’ll end up on YouTube screaming like a bunch of pussies.” Taehyung replied, shooting me another smile, as he rubbed his hands in excitement. “We probably should get inside, I think we’re late.”

“Right,” I agreed, and Taehyung quickly grabbed my suitcase, “thanks.”

The porch squeaked the moment we stepped on it; from the outside the house looked terrible, only still in one piece due to a magical spell cast upon it; maybe even a curse, given the particular time of a year and sinister atmosphere around. From the inside, it didn't present any better.

“Finally,” a voice said as Taehyung grabbed the knob and pushed the doors wide open, a loud creak announcing our arrival. Slowly, he looked from above his tablet, his lips arched into a polite smile, his dimples on full display. “I started to think that you guys ditched,” he added, clearly glad that he was mistaken.

“Are you kidding me? Pass on such a sweet deal? Never,” I quickly assured him, as I accepted his hand shake when he greeted us, “nice to meet you, too, Namjoon.”

“Okay, before we start anything, you both have to sign this up,” Namjoon announced, showing us the terms of the agreement which were roughly thirty pages long, “basically, it states that we can record anything that happens here, and use it for further research. Also, we do not take any responsibility for any damage caused during your stay.”

Taehyung scrolled through the pages, his eyes moving quickly from left to right as he quickly skimmed the text, reading one every five words.

“Sounds legit,” he commented, as he looked at Namjoon, “where do I sign?”

“Just draw your signature with your finger at the bottom of the page,” Namjoon instructed Taehyung, the latter leaving an illegible squiggle under the date.

“Are you for real?” I asked, still unable to process what Taehyung just did. Did he seriously endorse the contract without thoroughly reading it first? Is he that reckless and irresponsible? For all we know, they could have a permit to legally harvest his organs, or worse.

“Don’t worry, there isn’t anything funny, it’s a routine procedure.” Namjoon reassured me, his arm outstretched toward me, the blank space at the bottom of the page waiting to be signed.

“Fuck it, let’s do it,” I replied casually before I left my signature in the right place. Right now, I seriously needed this money, even if the contract consisted of something I was against, it’s not like Namjoon had time to renegotiate the terms with me; it’s either all or nothing, and I really didn't want to leave empty-handed.

“Okay,” Namjoon locked his tablet, “since we got this covered, you guys must want a short tour around the house,” he simply stated, mentioning for us to follow him and carefully listen to him. Taehyung and I looked at each other, and he let me go first, as he slowly trailed behind me.

The reconnaissance was quite short; Namjoon showed us round the house and introduced us to the four fellow housemates. At the very end of the tour, he led us down the corridor, telling which room was whose. Mine happened to be across from Taehyung’s, squeezed between Jimin’s and Amber’s.

“I should get going,” Namjoon stated, as he glimpsed at his smart-watch, “shit, I’m late,” he added, his eyes roaming around the house as if he was in a panic. “Anyway, see you all on Wednesday.”

"What took you so long?" Taehyung asked as I walked downstairs to the living room. "And here I thought a ghost already ate your disbelieving ass," he snickered, and I immediately stuck out my tongue at him before I politely bowed at the rest and sat on the couch beside Taehyung since he's the one I was the most familiar with; Namjoon had introduced them to me, yet their names slipped my mind almost as soon as I heard them.

"Yeah, totally," I deadpanned, slightly jabbing Taehyung's side; that boy had it coming, why did he look so astonished? "Anyway, I have a treat for all of you," I started, as I placed a plastic bag filled with Chinese fortune cookies.

"Did you rob a Chinese restaurant on your way here?" A man with golden, fluffy hair smiled and reached for the ziplock bag, taking a cookie.

"No, but it's a funny story, actually." I started, obtaining his attention before he managed to crack the cookie and read whatever wisdom was inked inside. "I used to write quotes for the fortune cookies; the manager wanted them to be original and I kind of got carried away. In the end, I got fired."

"What does it say?" Taehyung asked, wondering what could be written there, as he couldn't imagine what kind of sentence could anger the manager to the point of wanting to sack me. "Come on, Jimin, read it out loud!" He encouraged, when the man scanned the piece of paper, his eyes squinted, trying to decipher the message in a tiny font.

"Oh my God, this is gold," Jimin declared, as he strived to refrain himself from ugly-laughing. "You will die alone and poorly dressed," Jimin read, and Taehyung almost choked when he heard the fortune. "Geez, thanks, that's exactly what I wanted to get."

"She must really possess some kind of power, I mean... what are those?" Taehyung asked angrily, as he pointed at Jimin's hideous sneakers. Everyone laughed at Taehyung's remark, and Jimin stuck his tongue out, acting calm and collected, although he couldn't understand the criticism; they were incredibly comfortable, who really cared that they were last season?

"I want one, too." A woman in boyish clothing interjected Taehyung before he got to diss Jimin more, and reached for the bag, eager to read her fortune. "Life is a symphony, and you are playing the kazoo," she read out loud, "why would anyone fire you for that? This is ridiculous; if anything, you should get a raise!"

Later that night, we're still chilling in the living room; demonic presence never making oneself known. It was just a simple get-together; six people in their twenties, a bag of delicious unfortunate cookies and a bottle of rum passed among them.

"Okay, let's lay our cards on the table," Taehyung started casually, wriggling on the couch beside me, brushing his thighs against mine all the time. "What made you guys take part in this? You go first Jimin," he asked with curiosity, his body leaned forward, his elbows digging into his thighs, waiting for the reply patiently, his eyes fixated on Jimin.

"The girl I have a crush on just got together with my friend, and I didn't feel like third-wheeling them, especially when they're in that honeymoon phase," Jimin stated, gladly accepting the bottle of alcohol Yoongi offered him. It wasn't easy for him, but hopefully participating in this experiment would take it off his mind. "Fuck couples," he added, and raised the bottle, taking another gulp.

"Salute to that!" I cheered, smiling at Jimin, completely supporting his views on relationships. It was solely envy speaking, but yeah, fuck couples!

"What about you Amber?" Taehyung inquired, as he looked at the girl, the bottle of alcohol in her hands.

"Actually, I'm just tagging along. Krystal wanted to go, because she thought her Instagram followers would love it, and I'm just accompanying her."

"That's true," Krystal suddenly interjected, tearing her eyes off the screen, "and they just love it," she added, every word just beautifully rolling off her tongue, "by the end of the experiment, the number of my followers will at least double."

Taehyung nodded his head, registering all the new information about other participants. "Yoongi?"

"Boredom, I guess." Yoongi answered dismissively, drinking alcohol as if it was water. "Also, I've been told I am dead inside, so hopefully, this near-death experience will stir some emotions within me." He added, placing an empty bottle on the carpet, "have any of you brought booze?" He asked, looking at fellow participants, hoping he wasn't the only one who had thought about getting wasted.

"I have," I quickly replied, unconsciously raising my hand as if I was still in high school, "but it's clear vodka, and I don't think we should drink it straight from the bottle," I added, and everyone except Yoongi agreed with me with a simple nod.

"I'll grab the cups and some juice, and you go get the alcohol," Taehyung proposed, and quickly, we stood up and went our separate ways to get what all of us needed. Within two minutes, we got back to the living room; swiftly pouring the drinks, each different with accordance to one's request.

"What about you, kitten?" Taehyung carried on, his gaze fixated on me, our cups clinking in a simple toast. Refraining myself from cringing at the nickname he had given me, I smiled at him and cleared my throat.

"I want to throw an amazing birthday party, and invite all of my friends, but I don't have money, so I signed up for this." I sincerely confessed, all of them staring at me, since mine reason must've been the most trivial one. "What about you, huh?" I boldly asked Taehyung, alcohol in my system giving me confidence and courage.

"What about me?" Taehyung questioned stupidly, grinning at me like an idiot, "Aww, look at your blush, is it me, or the alcohol?"

"Alcohol, definitely alcohol," I answered immediately, being perfectly aware that my cheeks turned scarlet red whenever I was drinking. I was attracted to Taehyung, but it didn't have anything to do with my blush at the moment; it was solely alcohol. "What about you? Are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not, I just like teasing you," Taehyung stated, leaning forward, and I automatically lay back a little. He surprised me with all the attention he gave me, but I just didn't want to openly flirt with Taehyung in front of everyone. I hated PDA, and even Taehyung's handsome being wouldn't change that. "But to answer your question, I guess I joined the experiment because I felt like it?" Taehyung said, yet his statement came out as a question, almost as if he didn't know how to explain his decision. "I mean... I thought it'd be cool to try something new."

"Okay, since we've already established why we're here, why don't we get drunk?" Jimin spoke, trying to change the subject for which I was much than simply glad, considering the way Taehyung stared at me, waiting for a perfect moment to strike again with his playful remarks.

"Finally!" Yoongi cheered, as he reached for his cup and a fortune cookie. "You are all going to die here," Yoongi read the sentence with furrowed eyebrows, and I almost choked on my drink in horror; I didn't particularly memorise all the quotes, but I was certain that I hadn't written that. "Spooky."

"Are you okay?" Taehyung asked in concern, as he hit my back gently, evidently worried about me, yet intrigued by my reaction. "What's the matter?"

"It wasn't funny, Yoongi," I reprimanded the man, obviously not amused by his prank.

"I don't understand," Yoongi replied, his eyebrow cocked in a questioning manner, as he had no clue what made me act the way I did. "What wasn't funny?"

"The note," I quickly said, pointing my finger at the piece of paper lying on the coffee table, "I didn't write that."

"Who did, then?" He challenged, and I immediately reached for the note, eager to see what was written there. Yoongi's prank wasn't humorous, not even the tiniest bit. Quickly, I flipped the note in my hands, squinting my eyes as I tried to read it in my tipsy state. What threw me off first was the font; the one I held in my hands was hand-written, whereas the ones I had written were not. Someone was messing with me, yet I couldn't really tell who. It had to be one of the fellow participants, it couldn't be a ghost, obviously.

"You guys are the worst," I whined, crumpling the note in my hands, not giving them the satisfaction; they tried to prank me, but it failed.

Around two a.m. we called it a night. Unfortunately, when I got to my room, I didn't feel the tiniest bit tired, my eyes were wide open, not even a single yawn leaving my mouth. Perhaps, it was alcohol that they had poured me, or the cruel prank that affected me much more than I originally thought; either way, I wasn't feeling exhausted, anticipated dream way beyond my reach.

Having kicked off my shoes, I jumped on the bed, sitting up, my back pressed against the headboard. Quickly, I unlocked my phone, keen on reading whatever I had missed during the day. Slowly, I scrolled down the content, either liking or reblogging everything that caught my attention, or made me smile. It didn't keep me busy for long, though.

"Eh," I murmured to myself, as I rolled down, lying on the sheets. The brightness of my phone was blinding me, although it was set the darkest as it was possible. Thankfully, there was a working lamp on the nightstand, which engulfed the room with tangerine, weak light.

Suddenly, I felt cold; it lasted for not longer than ten seconds, yet it was enough for goose bumps to rise in my arms. Shivering, I turned my head toward the window, the curtain fluttering in the chilly breeze. It was strange, especially when I didn't leave it open. Sighing, I jumped off the bed and walked to the window to close it, only to furrow my eyebrows in confusion when I realised it was closed. There had to be a scientific explanation; the draft just didn't emerge from nothingness.

Before I got a chance to ponder the occurrence, I heard a faint knock on the doors, interrupting my train of thought. My head immediately turned, Taehyung's head picked inside my room.

"You're not asleep, thank God," he spoke casually, a sheepish smile decorating his face. Slowly, he pushed the doors open, gingerly entering my room, his pillow in his grip. "Would it be a problem if I slept here tonight?" He asked boldly, his gaze drilling holes in my eyes. "My room stinks as if someone has died in there," he clarified honestly, and I just nodded my head in comprehension.

"You can stay, I guess," I replied nonchalantly, as I wondered if I was his first choice. Didn't he prefer to stay with one of the guys? Or Krystal? Or whoever else? 

"Thanks, you're the best," Taehyung beamed at me, quickly plopping on the right side of the bed, "you're my life saver."

"No problem," I muttered and gave him a faint smile, before I turned my head around, examining the window again. It bothered me that I couldn't come up with a logical explanation, even when I knew one existed; surely it wasn't Casper the ghost, playing with the curtains for crying out loud!

"What are you doing over there?" Taehyung asked, his deep, worried voice pulling me out of my thoughts. "Have you seen a ghost? You look unhealthily pale."

"What...?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I didn't register what exactly he asked me about. "Oh, it's really nothing. I thought I saw something, but it must be nothing. It's just the house, everybody says it's haunted, and even if I don't believe in that, it still makes me feel a bit edgy." I explained, smiling sheepishly throughout my whole reply, as I analysed his concerned expression.

"Don't worry, it's a natural reaction in these circumstances, everyone a bit scared even though they may not outwardly admit that." Taehyung assured, trying to provide me with comfort of some sort. "Hell, even I'm a little frightened." He confessed, and I let out a faint chuckle. The thing was, I wasn't scared, what I felt was confusion without any sort of fear.

I knew better than to believe in that lies Namjoon had fed us with; the supernatural beings don't exist. Period. He might've fooled the rest of them, but I had never been easy to convince.

"It's not I'm scared. Maybe a little uneasy, but that's all." I replied, striving to look as confident as I possibly could. "Anyway," I started, rubbing my hands eagerly, "do you want to check out your room?"

"Not really," quickly, he brushed me off, his body comfortably lying on my bed, his arms tightly wrapped around the pillow, his lips puckered, "when I said that it stank, I meant it. Actually, I'm pretty much surprised you can't smell it from here."

"Okay, let's just stay here." I gave in, not really trying to force him to leave. I truly liked his company, and if he wanted to stay the night, I'd let him even if nothing was going to happen. "But if you hear me talking in my sleep just ignore it, I am not being possessed." I warned him, but Taehyung just beamed at me.

"And if you feel as if a boa snake is trying to kill you, don't panic, you're not being attacked. It's just me." Taehyung announced, holding his pillow tightly between his arms.

"Sure..." I replied, sounding not convinced, "I'll remember that."

"Aren't you tired?" He asked, his head propped on his elbow, as he stared at me. I was still standing next to the window, almost as if I was too shy to lie down beside him. "It's like seriously late," he yawned loudly, not even covering his mouth.

"I was, but sometimes one moment I'm super exhausted, only to be hyper when I should go to bed." I explained, slowly approaching him, the eerie curtain occurrence almost forgotten.

"Yeah, I get it." Taehyung nodded his head, as he closed his eyes, and snuggled tightly around the sheets, making himself absolutely comfortable. "Amber must be suffering like you right now. When I was standing in front of your doors, I could swear I heard moans coming from her room. And if I'm not mistaken, they were Krystal's."

"Whoa," I said, unable to disguise my perplexed reaction. They hadn't made it obvious that they had any romantic strings between them. Moreover, if I had to tip who were in a relationship, I'd nominate Yoongi and Jimin; Krystal hadn't held Amber’s hand when rain started to hit the windows, it was Jimin who had got scared, seeking safety in Yoongi's tight grip.

"At least someone's getting some," I added absent-mindedly, the depressing thoughts of my painfully long singlehood resurfaced.

"I'm very sorry that we're not having sex right now. If I knew sooner that you're down to fuck, I'd save my energy. Not today, kitten." Taehyung teased me, his mind almost in dreamland.

"That's not what I meant!" I replied defensively, shooting him a disapproving glance, which much to my dismay, got unnoticed. "I'm thinking long-term here," I added, although I knew he wasn't listening.

"Good night, Taehyung." I whispered, as I sat on the bed beside him, ready to return to reading on my phone.

When I woke up, Taehyung was gone. Lazily rubbing my eyes, I reached for my phone to check the time and other notifications; it was past noon, and I must've been the only person still in bed. Despite a hot affair between Krystal and Amber, I doubted anyone had stayed awake to 4 o'clock to finish reading.

A loud growl of my stomach pulled me out of my thoughts, demanding food. However, no matter how hungry I was, I had to shower first.

Swiftly, I got out of bed and approached the suitcase, fishing out everything I needed: a clean set of clothes, a bathrobe, and shower necessities.

The bathroom down the hall, thankfully, wasn't occupied, so I quickly sneaked in, locking the doors from the inside.

Instantly, I noticed a camera attached to the ceiling; everybody knows that in horror movies, ghosts just love scaring the shit out of people in the bathrooms, so I can't say that I am surprised. God bless the shower curtain and toilet stall!

Once under the hot steam of water, body coated in a bath foam, I spoke in confusion, "what the fuck?" It was weird, at night, when I had gone to bed, I didn't have any bruises, yet right now, my hips and thighs were covered in a handful of dark marks. How did that happen? These weren't hickeys, obviously. I hadn't knocked into anything, either.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I stared at the marks, still unable to recall how the hell I got them. Once again, something odd happened, and I didn't have an explanation for it; perhaps I am not as smart as I thought I was.

Having pushed the bothersome thoughts aside, I swiftly finished the shower and put on my outfit which consisted of black, ripped jeans and a simple band T-shirt.

​​​"Look who we have here, the Sleeping Beauty finally came downstairs." Taehyung snickered, as soon as I entered the kitchen. Taehyung was alone, doing the dishes, while the rest lounged around the living room, either sipping coffee, or looking at their screens. "How was your sleep?" He asked, looking at me over his shoulder, sending me a simple smile.

"Short," I retorted, as I sat on the stool by the table, looking at the remains of their breakfast. "What about you?"

"I slept like a log," Taehyung admitted, as he turned off the tap and threw the sponge into the sink before he took a seat beside me.

"Taehyung, did we... you know... do anything yesterday? I have these... weird bruises, and I have no idea how I got them. We didn't sleep together, did we?" I mumbled, playing with my fingers. I realised I must've sounded crazy and confused, and thankfully, he didn't laugh at me. "It's really strange, but I seriously don't know how to explain that. I wasn't that drunk, and I was conscious the whole time." I tried to formulate a reasonable explanation, and Taehyung, despite me sounding batshit crazy, he just grabbed my hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Trust me, kitten, I'd remember that." Taehyung answered playfully, rubbing his thumb against my skin in a soothing manner. "And are you sure you haven't knocked into anything?" He asked, and I shook my head confidently. "Then, it must be the house. It's haunted, remember?"

"I'm being serious here," I whined, and Taehyung tightened his grip around my fingers.

"Don't look at me like that, something's wrong about this house. At breakfast, Yoongi told me that during the night, he felt the draft in his room, although the windows and the doors were closed." Taehyung started, and I looked at him with my eyes wide open; Yoongi had experienced the same thing, and it seemed a bit too coincidental for my liking. It was strange, but it didn't mean that the house was actually haunted.

"It doesn't mean the ghost assaulted me."

"You're right, but tell me when you come up with a better explanation."

"Does anyone know the history of this house?" Amber asked out of the blue, obtaining everyone's attention. "I googled it, and it's pretty messed up."

"Better keep it to yourself, she's already paranoid," Taehyung interjected, pointing his finger at me, earning a jab between his ribs. I wasn't paranoid, I was just puzzled. "What?" He asked loudly, his grip on my wrist, protecting him from me.

"Shut up, you're not better yourself. Who came to my room yesterday? You're the scaredy-cat, just admit it." I fought back, wriggling my arms from his grasp.

"Okay, we get it, you're both chickens," Yoongi commented, as he gave us a judging look. "What does it say?"

"Basically, whoever moves in dies." Amber summed up, as everyone stared at her, eagerly waiting for more details. "The legend says that the family who built this house was brutally murdered by robbers. It is believed the man, right before his death, swore to take vengeance on anybody who comes inside."

"That story's lame," Krystal criticized, shaking her head in disappointment, "I can't believe that's what you came up with, pathetic."

"I didn't come up with anything!" Amber defended herself, but Krystal didn't seem the tiniest bit convinced. "I found this article from a couple of years ago, and it says that over twenty people died in here; adults and kids, everyone cruelly butchered, no survivors. Just read it yourself." She sat up and stretched her hand, passing her phone to Krystal.

"Still lame."

In the evening, when Yoongi found a stash of alcohol, the atmosphere loosened up; no one was thinking about the urban legend, our minds hazy.

"Do you guys wanna play? Krystal and I deserve a break," Amber asked, as she pointed at the table where Yoongi and Jimin were refilling cups for another round of beer pong.

"Sure," Taehyung replied for the both of us, as he smiled at Amber and grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch. "Come on, kitten, we're gonna fucking destroy them," he added, and I shook my head at Taehyung's confidence. I didn't doubt his skills, mine, however, left a lot to be desired. Especially, when I was already after a couple of drinks.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Tae," Jimin warned, as he smirked at us, "we crushed them, and we're most definitely gonna crush you."

"I probably should tell you that I, Kim Taehyung, have never lost, not even once, at beer pong." With a hand pressed against his heart, Taehyung admitted, while I tried to fight the urge to start laughing at his serious approach. He wasn't going to play to have fun, he was going to beat them out.

"What about you, kitten?" Yoongi asked in a mocking tone, infuriating me even more with that annoying nickname he had caught on from Taehyung.

"What about me? You better worry about yourself because Taehyung and I will beat the crap out of you." I exclaimed and high-fived Taehyung before we cheered together, being confident about our victory. Hopefully, Taehyung had his self-proclaimed skills, otherwise, we're pretty much screwed.

"Feisty." Yoongi hissed under his breath, a lopsided smirk decorating his face. "In that case, we should arrange a bet; what do you think?"

"Bring it on," Taehyung replied confidently, as he sent a determined glare at Yoongi and Jimin, "what's the punishment gonna be?"

"We'll have that figured out by the end of the match, okay?"

Having cracked my knuckles, and heaved a sigh, the game started, me being the first one to throw the ball, as the boys insisted that ladies first. Surprisingly, I managed to score for our team; unfortunately, it was the first and also last point I notched up. Amongst the four of us, Taehyung was definitely the best player, yet with my awful contribution, it wasn't enough to win against them.

"In your face!"

"There's a first time for everything, Tae!" Jimin mocked, as he approached our side of the table, and patted Taehyung's shoulder with artificial care. "What are we gonna make them do, Yoongs?"

"Don't worry, shit happens." Taehyung spoke, trying to cheer me up when Yoongi and Jimin were conferring our punishment. "It's not a big deal."

"Sorry, Tae. It's all my fault. If you want I can do the punishment alone. It's fine with me."

With everlasting smile upon his face, he shook his head. Of course, he'd do that, given how much of a sweetheart I knew he was.

"Don't be ridiculous," Taehyung spoke, as he spared me a short glance before he focused on Jimin and Yoongi who're bending their backs backward, desperate to come up with a sinister punishment.

"Today's Halloween, maybe we should send them to the basement. If the ghosts don't hunt them down, we'll know that Namjoon has been bullshitting the whole time." Jimin announced, and Yoongi enthusiastically clapped his hands and nodded his head, agreeing with Jimin's idea.

"Oh my God," Krystal whined and rolled her eyes, as she took a short break from her Instagram profile, "you guys are so lame! Unbelievably uncreative. A sponge would generate a better punishment."

Krystal was right; the guys didn't possess even a whit of creativity. They were also dicks, picking a dull cliché from every horror movie ever. Going to the basement with Taehyung wasn't a problem to me, yet when Jimin and Yoongi opted for clichés, I'd rather make out with my game partner. Their idea was neutral, and I didn't really mind spicing things up.

Hopefully, Taehyung didn't either.

"Just let them, they tried their best," Taehyung replied casually, yet I didn't miss the sly, subtle smirk that he sent me. He was up to something; it was obvious, and although I didn't know anything about his revenge plan, I could only assume that Yoongi and Jimin would regret messing with us. Or at least, making fun of us. "It's really nothing, we'll crush them in the next round. It was just a warm-up."

"Yeah... sure....," Yoongi hissed, sounding unconvinced, as he knew we didn't stand a chance to win against them. Not in the next round. Not ever.

"Finish your drink, Tae." Jimin said casually, as he looked at Taehyung's cup which was half full.

As soon as Taehyung emptied his cup with only three gulps, Yoongi and Jimin walked us to the basement doors, eloquently calling our mission 'Seven Minutes in Hell'. Frankly, despite all the alcohol in my blood, it still made me cringe.

"Okay, what was about that look?" I asked straightforwardly when the doors closed behind us, Taehyung and I in the embrace of darkness, occasional squeaks of the floor above us heard whenever someone moved.

"What look?" Taehyung asked, as he batted his eyelashes at me, trying to trick me into believing in his innocence. I had caught his smirk, he couldn't deny it, and I wouldn't fall for that. He was definitely up to something.

"Don't act like an idiot, Tae. That look, I know you have some sort of a revenge plan." I explained, and although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was smirking. We're going to bite back at Jimin and Yoongi, and if he really thought I'd step back, he was awfully mistaken. We didn't know each other very well, but the playful competitiveness that had surrounded us fueled me even more, not really wanting to stop the battle now. It was fun, and I couldn't stop. Taehyung had to feel the same way.

"Well... I can't say I have a particular idea in my mind, but it would be funny if we managed to pull a prank on them, don't you think?" He started, and I nodded my head, agreeing with him. It was harmless. Moreover, the house was obviously a ghost-free zone, they deserved to experience something exciting. If the ghost didn't want to scare them, Taehyung and I would take care of it instead. "Do you have an idea? Hopefully, you don't lack creativity as much as Yoongi and Jimin do."

"I don't know, we don't have much time left," I spoke, as I reached into the back pocket of my jeans to pull my phone, getting blinded by its brightness. "We have like six minutes, I doubt we manage to pull out an epic prank. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

This time, I was the one who had a lopsided smirk upon my face, "let's see," I spoke casually, as I grabbed Taehyung's hand and led him downstairs, trying to omit random objects which were scattered all over the place.

"Do think that's where all these people died?" Taehyung asked, as he followed behind me, his warm hand resting in mine, his gaze focused on the back of my head.

"No, of course, not. If anything, I'd bet they were killed in our beds." I replied casually, and Taehyung tightened his grip, as he heard my statement. I'm not surprised, it came much darker than I originally intended.

"That's really messed up," Taehyung muttered under his breath, obviously crept out by my bold remark. Damn it, I really should've known when to bite my tongue and just shut up. Even if I had the slightest chance to get it on with Taehyung, I just botched it up. The prospect of any form of intimacy just sank like a stone. "Why would you even say that?"

"Sorry, sometimes I forget it's not the Internet, and that I just can't say whatever comes to my mind." I replied, smiling at him sheepishly, knowing the situation I put myself in was miserable, and it couldn't get any worse. At this point, Satan himself could crack the surface of the Earth and set my dumb ass on fire, and I'd probably thank him for saving me from this embarrassment.

And since I was already a lost cause, I could play a little prank on him.

Abruptly, I turned off the flashlight on my phone, yanked my hand out of Taehyung's grip, and screamed, sounding quite naturally. No wonder, given how many times I had popped out of nowhere, scaring the crap out of my brother. Just as I expected, the second the light went out, Taehyung let out a shriek, which was followed by a fit of my laughter. Taehyung and the guys upstairs must've just lost their minds, some of them maybe even convinced that a vengeful spirit just finished us off.

"Holy shit, it wasn't funny." Taehyung gasped with a hand pressed against his chest when I switched on the flashlight. He looked utterly terrified, and I seriously felt like the worst person in the world. Maybe I really was the worst person in the world, yet the temptation was way too strong to fight. I couldn't waste this chance. "You almost got me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," I apologised, trying to refrain from giggling, even though it was truly difficult; his voice normally is really deep and raspy, yet just a while ago he didn't sound like himself. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys thought that high-pitched wail belonged to me. "You have to understand me, though. You'd do the same, you wouldn't be able to fight that sort of whim."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Taehyung agreed, scratching the back of his head, as he admitted his playful intentions. "I'm still angry, though. I almost pissed my pants, you know..."

"Sorry, but look at the bright side; you're gonna be prepared when the real ghost conjures up in front of you." I expounded, yet Taehyung didn't buy it. I just knew it, and the skeptical look he was giving me only validated my point. "Ugh, fine, let's make a deal. If anything supernatural happens, I'll shield you with my very own chest. Let's say, it's my token of atonement, okay?"

"Not okay," Taehyung crossed his hands across his chest, as he flat out rejected my proposition. That was unexpected. Who normal would pass on such a sweet deal? "First of all, it'd really hurt my ego if a girl jumped between me and a fucking ghost. That's highly unnecessary, kitten. It'd much rather you kissed it better." Taehyung asserted, as he poked his cheek with his long, slender forefinger.

I couldn't believe he actually said that; I thought he hated me.

Because of me we had lost the beer pong game. Moreover, I was the one who had made him scream like a little girl. Was he attracted to me the way I was attracted to him? Was he so interested in me that he actually was capable of turning a blind eye to me basically doing a one-eighty to his image?

"You're serious?" I asked, my eyebrows raised, as I still couldn't process that he, I'll be jiggered, requested a kiss.

Immediately, his gaze met mine, and I just couldn't look away. I was irrationally fascinated by him, and he, surprise, surprise, reciprocated my attraction.

"What? You don't want to?" Taehyung inquired, heaving a sigh.

Normally, I'd panic and lie, fleeing from the basement as soon as I could. Right now, however, I didn't even think about escaping. I just stood there, gawking at him, digesting his words. It still felt surreal; my cheeks probably scarlet red by now, his eyebrows furrowed in anticipation.

What the hell was I thinking? I had to be an idiot; why, on Earth, was I pondering over his statement? I ought to have smashed my lips against his the second he prodded his cheek. The guys could call us any minute; we didn't have much time, why the fuck was I wasting it?

Having come to my senses, I eagerly took a step forward, his arms wrapping around my waist the second I was within his reach. Nothing really happened yet, but my heart was already beating abnormally in excitement. Taehyung had amazing influence on me, or was it the consumed alcohol? Either way, I wanted him, and Good Lord, I should not have been satiated with just a peck!

"You know what to do, kitten," Taehyung urged, and I rolled my eyes at the nickname which I heard like the hundredth time tonight. It was really irritating, yet I just couldn't formulate a witty remark, as my mind completely shut off once I found myself in Taehyung's embrace. Almost as if we were in our personal bubble where nothing mattered, the sinister surroundings long forgotten.

Gently, I placed my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his cheek.

"That's not even a kiss, do it properly," he whined, his fingers delicately digging into my skin, as he pulled me closer. Immediately, I replied with a smirk, trailing innocent pecks across his cheek, only to hover my lips over his, enjoying teasing him. If we went any further, I wouldn't be able to stop myself. For a short while, Taehyung and I looked into each other's eyes, as we breathed the same air, tinges of lust racing between our bodies.

"Kitten," he started, as he licked his lips, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against my lips.

"Hmm?"

Slowly, I closed my eyes and leaned in; Taehyung's lips were incredibly soft when he moved against me. It wasn't anything extraordinary, yet it felt just heavenly; no tongue, no biting, no sucking—it was just a kiss in the simplest of forms. Why did he taste so marvelous, then?

It must've been his natural charm, as no other explanation came to my mind.

Gradually, I started to trace the outline of his lips with my tongue, and Taehyung responded by slightly opening his mouth, welcoming my tongue with his. Taehyung's hands roamed around my body, squeezing my hips and drawing small circles with his fingers on my skin. I, on the other hand, was pressed against his frame, my breasts rubbing against his chest, his thigh between my legs.

"Mmn..." I purred quietly, when I pulled away for a second to catch a breath. "You're an amazing kisser, Tae," I confessed and immediately captured his lips in a heated kiss, slipping my tongue inside his mouth. Taehyung instantly replied with a grunt, as he grabbed my bottom and gripped it, excitingly yanking me toward him, the outline of his semi-hard cock poking against my stomach.

No matter how long we made out; lust only amplified with each passing second. Taehyung tasted so addicting, it completely shut off my brain. I could only focus on the kiss and ways how to prolong it; the revenge plan the last thing on our minds.

My excuses went down the drain at once, as Jimin's worried voice echoed, his head stuck through the doors.

"You dead?"

Ever since we left the basement, Taehyung and I kept stealing glances at each other; the kiss had been amazing, and neither of us wished to pull away. However, we both felt quite uncomfortable making out in front of the rest. (Or was it just me, and Taehyung just didn't want to force me into anything. Especially when I confessed it was me who had shrieked at the top of my voice when I had thought I saw a ghost.)

Taehyung owes me.

Big time.

The tension between us was driving me crazy. It was utterly ridiculous how much I craved to return to Taehyung's embrace to score every base with him. Shamelessly, I needed his arms on me, bending me to his will as he wished.

"God, I'm so bored," Yoongi whined, as he locked his phone and rubbed his eyes. "I'll just go to sleep. Wake me up when a ghost decides to show up."

"Maybe, it's not that bad of an idea," Amber commented, yawning ostentatiously.

"That's official, this is definitely the worst Halloween party ever," Krystal criticized, looking around the room, everyone either exhausted or drunk. (In Yoongi's case, both.) "At least, I am being paid to be here."

​​​​​"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Taehyung asked, sounding confused and disappointed at the same time. True, we hadn't witnessed any paranormal activity, yet it didn't necessarily mean that the party was horrible.

It was fun.

Especially my time alone with Taehyung.

​​​​​"We're all tired, Tae." Jimin said casually, smiling at the latter, as he didn't want to hurt his feelings. "I don't know what about you, but I couldn't fall asleep; I didn't blink an eye yesterday."​​​​

"Fine," Taehyung groaned, plopping down onto the couch beside Krystal, "it's just that Namjoon will come get us in the morning, and we will probably never meet each other again. I thought it'd be fun if we used the time we have to the fullest. You're like seriously an awesome entourage."

Taehyung's words stung. The really stung, and although I didn't get to know them as thoroughly as I wanted to, I knew I'd miss them. Everyone was different in many ways, and we, as a group, complemented perfectly.

Also, I didn't particularly delude myself; I knew that Taehyung would be a very short chapter of my life, and despite that, I still felt bitter that tomorrow we would go our separate ways and never see each other again.

When everyone went to their rooms, Taehyung let out a heavy sign, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "are you going to go, too?" he asked, as he changed his position, leaning in, his elbows pressed against his thighs, his eyes seeking mine, almost begging me to stay.

"No," I firmly replied, sending him a faint smile. I wasn't going anywhere; Taehyung was right, we didn't have much time left, and I didn't want to leave him. "I'm not even the tiniest bit tired," I stated, as I stood up, and approached him, sitting down beside him. Our little moment in the basement was more than just energizing; it was so refreshing I couldn't remember when I felt this good.

"Thank you, kitten," he spoke softly, and grabbed my hand, placing a gentle peck on my knuckles, "so what do you want to do?" he inquired, turning to me, resting his head in his hand, as he propped his shoulder on the backrest. "I believe we were interrupted just a while ago," he remembered, and with a lopsided smirk upon his face, he leaned slowly forward.

"Yeah, we were," I agreed, yet just when he was about to kiss me, I pressed my forefinger against his lips, stopping him. Quickly, Taehyung arched his back and looked at me in confusion; I had to be out of my character to push him away. "You have no idea how much I want us to continue wherever we left off, but look around, Tae, cameras are all over the place. Namjoon pays quite handsomely, but it's not enough for my sex tape."

Taehyung laughed.

Loudly.

"Oh, kitten, you amuse me so much," he added, and I sulked. Was my assumption really that far-fetched? That hurt — a lot. "Hey, hey, hey, it's not what I meant, please, don't brood. It's just that I don't sleep around, kitten."

"I don't either," quickly, I replied, making him smile again, yet at this point, I couldn't tell what it meant. "I really want to fuck you right now, though."

His smile disappeared only to be replaced with lustful glance, his eyes slowly undressing me.

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked me with him, "my car's in the driveway."

The second we entered the car, I slammed my lips against his in a fervent, needy kiss; our disappointingly short make out session had only ignited fire with me, and I immediately had to share it with Taehyung before I completely burned out.

"I'm not really that kind of a guy," Taehyung defended himself when he managed to pull away. I had my hands on his broad shoulders, my fingers slowly roaming around his neck, giving him the best massage I was capable of.

"I know, you've already said that," I simply stated and smiled at him before reconnecting our mouth again in another passionate lock. "I'm not that kind of a girl, either, but I really want you, so why the hell not?"

Taehyung didn't need another assurance. I just gave him a green light to do whatever he wanted to do, and he couldn't be more ecstatic about it. His mouth could be shut, but his eyes were pure sin, glancing at me with utter lust.

"Oh, kitten," Taehyung groaned, throwing his head back against the headrest. He was enjoying it, although I barely touched him. "I don't deserve you," he added before he formed a pleased smirk.

He was wrong, though.

I didn't deserve him.

However, it didn't stop either of whom to take what we really wanted. We desired each other, itching to reach that high together, even though we knew it wasn't the right thing to do.

"Shut up, Tae," I reprimanded him, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "Are we doing this or not?" I challenged him and before I managed to take a breath, Taehyung kissed me quite desperately. His hands stretched and landed on my sides, as he pulled me onto him, his cock poking against my stomach.

"I'd never forgive myself if I rejected you," Taehyung stated in a serious tone, his eyes fixated on me as if he was going to eat me alive. His stare was of a starved predator, and I was about to devote myself to him, willing to obey his every, even the kinkiest one, command.

"I'd never forgive myself if I let you reject me," I snickered and rocked my hips against him, earning a throaty moan from him. His cock, still restrained in his jeans, was throbbing for more friction, yet he'd have to wait for the main course a bit more.

I loved foreplay and I wasn't going to give up on that, even when I ridiculously wanted to feel him inside of me. My patience was going to be rewarded, it always is.

"Not even once it struck me you're such a bad girl," he spoke with a smirk, as he kneaded my ass cheeks when I was busy raking my finger across his chest and peppering his jaw and neck with damp kisses, nipping on his skin in an urge to mark him.

"Because I am not. I just met a guy who brings the worst out of me," I teased, and Taehyung tightened his grip on my sides, giving me a slight spank.

"I wouldn't say the worst... I kinda like that new image of you," Taehyung confessed, and I smiled shyly, quickly hiding my face in the crook of his neck, leaving stamps of my plum lipstick on his skin.

"Oh, Taehyung," I breathed out, as I unbuckled his jeans and put my hands in his pants.

Taehyung hissed the second I touched him, "damn, your hands are fucking cold!"

He was right, yet I was certain they would warm up quickly with a few strokes on his rock-hard cock. "Better?" I asked when his lips turned into a pleased smirk.

"You have no idea," he murmured, his eyes close shut, as he completely focused on my gentle touch, caressing his sensitive skin. Right now, I felt so powerful, straddling him; his body was reacting to even the slightest movement of my hand. "Kitten," Taehyung murmured on the exhale, as he grabbed my bottom and forced me onto him, so I fell on his chest, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

Uncontrollably, I giggled, and Taehyung stretched his arm, turning on the radio, and although I didn't mind the current mood, the soft ballad that filled the vehicle created a semi-romantic setting.

Without any comment, Taehyung looked me in the eyes, as he unzipped my jeans and forced his hand in my panties. "You're so wet, kitten," he snickered, and I rolled my eyes at his obvious statement. If only he knew I had been this excited for him ever since our kiss in the basement.

"Don't blame me, I really want to feel that cock inside of me," I stated nonchalantly, pulling him into another round of lustful and wanton kisses. Grunting, I slammed my lips against his, and he responded in an instant, poking his tongue against my teeth, demanding entrance.

"I'd never think you're into dirty talk," Taehyung spoke casually, as he played with my clit, flicking it between his fingers, making all my muscles tense, my hips grinding against his hand. Slowly, he ran his forefinger across my fold, smearing my juices all over my pussy; God, even the gentle caress of his digits got me trembling for more. At this point, I couldn't wait to feel what his cock was going to do to me.

"Because I am not, but with you it just seems suited," I confessed, and Taehyung reattached our lips together, pushing his middle finger inside of me, making me almost bite my tongue. His hands were perfectly sculpted and his fingers were just right, filling me just the way I need him to. "Fuck, Tae, keep doing that," I moaned, my voice louder than the radio in the background. Taehyung added another finger, and began to rub my clit with his thumb.

"I really do bring the worst out of you," Taehyung sneered playfully, pumping his fingers within me, making me squirt on his hand. He really had no mercy when it came to pleasuring me; if he kept the pace, I'd come before the song ended. "Shit," Taehyung spat, as I started to shamelessly ride his hand in desperation for more.

"I seriously need your cock right now."

"Fuck," Taehyung pulled out his fingers, and his hands quickly landed back on my hips, squeezing my flesh roughly. "Get your cute ass on the back seat," he ordered sternly and pushed me upwards, helping me get off of him. With the grace and elegance of a noddle-legged zebra, I followed Taehyung's command, almost falling face-first on the seat in my tipsy state when he spanked my ass cheekily.

"Hey," I whined as I sat on the cold seat, waiting for Taehyung to join me, "it wasn't nice, what would you do if I spanked you?"

"I'd ask you to do it again," he replied wittily, and I roared with laughter, as I watched him crumble in the seat beside me, his movement almost as clumsy as mine. "Spread those pretty legs for me kitten," he whispered, a devilish smirk decorating his handsome face.

I didn't have to be told twice, I obeyed his order in an instant, whereas Taehyung hooked his fingers under the waistband of my jeans, and pulled them off my legs agonizingly slowly, and at this point, I didn't know whether he was torturing me, or himself.

Quickly, I pushed the leather jacket off his shoulders, and grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his naked chest and broad shoulders; maybe he wasn't ripped like a hockey player, but I liked his proportional frame. Without any hesitation, I could admit that he was ridiculously attractive despite anything.

"Take off your shirt, kitten," Taehyung cooed, and as if compelled, I got out of my jacket and band T-shirt, not leaving much to the imagination, since I was only in my panties and a violet bra that beautifully shaped my breasts. His eyes were focused on my cleavage, while his general expression was actually blank. "Wow," that's all he managed to voice before he grabbed me by my thighs abruptly and pulled me toward him, so in the process, I lay down on my back on the back seat, Taehyung already positioned between my legs.

"Taehyung," I purred when I felt his lips on the inner side of my right thigh. He was taking his time teasing me, and although it was nice, I couldn't wait for him to slam his cock inside of me until I come around him. Slowly, his kisses wandered upwards; gentle pecks all across my stomach, cleavage, and neck before he captured my mouth.

"Please," I mewled when he pulled away to catch a breath.

"Please what?" Taehyung smiled at me, rubbing his hard cock against my folds. Fuck, why do we still have so many clothes on?

"Pull out that cock and fuck me," I spoke rather tenaciously, as I placed my hands on his sides and pulled him closer, and he almost fell over on top of me. Didn't he understand how much I desired him?

"I really wanted to eat you out, though," Taehyung announced and licked his lips, as if trying to seduce me.

Didn't he realise I was already allured?

Twice.

"Oh my God," Taehyung tugged my panties to the side and tongue flicked his tongue against my clit, and I immediately buckled my hips upward against his face and clenched my fists, grabbing his fluffy hair. Every muscle of my body was tensed, my eyes tightly shut, and I only concentrated on Taehyung's tongue lapping and delving inside of me.

"What the fuck? Did you hear that?" We both instantly pulled away from each other and glanced at the radio which a second ago roared with deafening white noise. Strangely enough, it only lasted a few seconds, and I could swear I heard Jimin's scream.

"I did," Taehyung admitted, as he looked at the radio, and then at me, his frame supported on his arms, his hands pressed against the seat. "It must be nothing," he shrugged, and leaned in, kissing my abdomen, slowly pulling my panties down my legs. "The radio program must want to scare its listeners, that's all."

Taehyung's reasoning didn't convince me, yet I decided to follow his example and just shake it off; I had to be actually possessed to stop right now, put on my clothes back and check if Jimin's safe. Besides, he's a grown-up and he's not alone; he ought to be fine.

"Where were we?"

Quickly, a smile appeared on my face and the occurrence from a moment ago was the last thing on my mind.

"You were going to fuck me," I replied quickly, smirking at him. Obediently, Taehyung pulled down his pants to his knees, giving his thick cock a few strokes, "do you have a condom?"

"Shit, you're right," Taehyung cursed, but quickly reached into the car compartment where thankfully was a pack of condoms.

"You ready?" he asked the second he rolled the condom on his cock and positioned himself in front of my entrance.

"Fuck me, Taehyung."

Without any trouble, Taehyung eased himself in, and although I was soaking wet, he grunted as my walls wrapped around him tightly. Slowly at first, gradually increasing his pace, Taehyung snapped his hips, making me moan with every thrust. My breasts, although still in the bra, rocked in Taehyung's rhythm.

"Fuck, you're tight," Taehyung grunted under his breath, as he slammed his cock inside of me, his balls hitting against my body. His forehead was covered in sweat, and I was panting in exhaustion even we just began; his performance was amazing, short waves of pleasure running to every inch of my body.

"Just like that," I moaned, almost melting in front of him. He fucked me so good that it made me wonder how could he know my body better than I did. No one had ever made me feel this heavenly so soon; even myself. "Damn, Taehyung, you're killing me," his cock felt so amazing that it almost hurt. "I want to ride you, Tae."

"Fuck, come here." He hissed, as he pulled out of me, and I whined already missing his cock. It felt so empty that I almost felt bad for asking him for a change of position. Raggedly, Taehyung sat on the seat and placed his hands on my hips, helping me to sit down on his lap. "Ah, kitten," Taehyung purred when my sex brushed against his twitching cock, "I already miss that tight pussy."

Running my fingers through his fluffy hair, I raised my hips, and Taehyung positioned his dick against my entrance. Slowly, I sat down on him, my walls once again stretching around him. "Fuck, it makes me so full," I moaned, my eyes closed, my breath hitched.

Sensually, I rocked my hips back and fro, while Taehyung was decorating my cleavage with damp kisses, his large hands under my bra, fondling my breast. His touch wasn't too gentle, nor too rough; he knew what he was doing to make me feel desired and striving for more.

"Let me see them," Taehyung grunted, as he reached behind my back, unhooking my purple bra, tossing it onto the dashboard. "Beautiful, just as I imagined them," he confessed and before I got to give him a questioning look, his lips landed on my nipple. Hungrily, he sucked on my sensitive bud, his left hand kneading the other breast, making me slow my moves, as I savored the feeling of his tongue.

"Oh God," I moaned, digging my fingernails into the skin of his broad shoulders. "Taehyung," his name rolled off my tongue, and Taehyung immediately grasped my chin and tilted it down, pressing his lips against mine in a deep, haste kiss. His tongue swirled around mine, as he swallowed each moan that left my mouth.

"I hope you're close because I'm fucking coming," Taehyung warned me before he placed his hands on my sides, helping me increase my pace. The sound of our bodies, the skin slapping almost got me loose my balance. His fingertips dug into my hips, and I threw my head back, nearing my orgasm.

It was our first time, and although we both wanted to last as long as we could, I'd gladly reach my high now. I didn't really mind it as long as he was down for another round. Maybe not today, but generally. On my side, it was too fantastic to settle on a one night stand.

Hopefully, Taehyung thought the same.

"Just come, Tae," I breathed out, almost unable to speak, "I'm coming, too."

With a final thrust, Taehyung growled in ecstasy, releasing himself into a condom, while I fluttered my eyes when the shattering sensation nearly ripped me apart. For a brief moment, the orgasm overwhelmed me; my vision faded to black, and I was lying on my back, desperately trying to catch a breath, listening to Taehyung's irregular breathing.

God, how much I wished we could stay in his car a bit longer.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Taehyung gasped the second we entered the house, "what the fuck are you doing Jimin? It's not funny, bro." He added, and I looked over his shoulder to see what frightened him so much. Apparently, Jimin thought it'd be a good idea to stay up all night, sitting in a chair in front of the entrance with his hands entwined on his laps, just to catch us sneaking inside.

"Not cool, Jimin. Not cool." I added and shook my head disapprovingly.

"Are you gonna answer us?" Taehyung asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while I was just staring at Jimin, crept out by him as he not even once blinked since we had entered the house.

Hesitantly, I raised my hand and waved in front of Jimin's eyes, but he didn't move an inch. "That's creepy—" I spoke and shrieked in astonishment when the doors behind us slammed spontaneously with a loud bang. "Okay, Jimin, that's not funny anymore," I urged him, snapping my fingers before his face, yet Jimin remained unresponsive.

"Hey," Taehyung shouted, as he placed his large hands on Jimin's shoulders, trying to shake him awake. Unfortunately, his method also failed.

"Taehyung, look," I said, lightly elbowing Taehyung's side, wanting to obtain his attention, "there's blood," I added, pointing at Jimin's hands.

The second we examined his palms, Jimin shot a sinister glare at us, curving his lips into a creepy smirk. "Look who's finally here," Jimin started, his voice oddly different, as if an octave lower and raspier. He didn't sound like himself, and I was completely alerted. "I hope you liked your stay," Jimin continued and raised from his seat, turning his head in a very uncomfortable angle, as his eyes was drilling in our faces.

"Ha, ha, ha," Taehyung laughed awkwardly, as he scratched the back of his head.

"Taehyung," I whispered, as I tugged at his sleeve.

"What's the matter, kitten?" He asked, as he stared back at Jimin who licked the blood off of his hands, "that's nasty, bro."

"I don't want to break your moment over there, but I'm pretty sure it's Yoongi who lies on the floor over there in a puddle of blood." Taehyung's eyes immediately followed the direction I pointed at, and the second he spotted Yoongi, he pushed Jimin backwards. Jimin chortled as we tried to run away.

Oddly, the kitchen doors shut close almost in front of our faces, and this time, I doubted it was caused by the aeration.

"Okay, plan B?"

"Not really," Taehyung shook his head, his mouth wide open as he stared at Jimin in panic. "I must admit I counted on you in that area, kitten."

"Fuck," I cursed, as I tried to come up with a solution. I like working under pressure, but this case was quite extreme, as Jimin behaved like someone else, and Yoongi was lying on the floor, blood slowly seeping out of his head. "Stay back," I told Taehyung as I took a step forward, so he could hide behind me. I wouldn't generate a better idea if I knew that Taehyung was directly exposed to danger.

"What are we gonna do?" Taehyung asked, and I shook my head, as I didn't come with anything yet.

I was silent, observing Jimin. However, as soon as Jimin started to levitate a foot above the ground, my eyes almost popped out of its sockets. Like how I previously thought that all of this was a staged prank, I began doubting myself. Like before I knew a logical explanation existed, right now, I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Run!" I screamed and pushed Taehyung in front of me, so if Jimin wanted to dash after us, Taehyung had more chances of getting away.

"Over here!" Amber's voice echoed through the corridor, and we immediately followed the sound, running into the last bedroom on the right. "Krystal and I thought that Jimin finished you off like he did Yoongi. Thankfully, we were wrong." She spoke, and Krystal barricaded the doors.

"What happened to Jimin?" Taehyung asked, as he managed to catch a breath.

"I wish we knew," Krystal started, as she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in her tight grip. "One moment we were going to rest in our rooms, and another, we heard Yoongi's scream."

"Quickly, we ran to see what the hell was going on. We saw Yoongi flying across the room, knocking his head against the wall." Amber finished, and Taehyung and I were equally crept out.

"That's messed up," Taehyung commented, and everyone nodded, agreeing with him. "What are we gonna do?"

Everyone was in deep thought; without a plan, we'd end up like Yoongi. It was three o'clock at night, and Namjoon was going to come get us at dawn. Right now, we had to be smart to last until then.

"Where are you hiding?" Jimin's sneer echoed behind the doors, as he strolled slowly, looking for us. He was taking his time chasing us, yet I suspected that he already knew where we were; he just played with us, making us think we stood a chance.

Suddenly, he heard a loud thud. Almost as if someone fell onto the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Amber asked in a raised voice, as she pointed at the doors. "I didn't like that sound."

"We should open the doors and see," Krystal spoke, and everyone looked at her, not knowing whether she was ridiculously brave or simply stupid. In our circumstances, the attack wasn't the best option; we would have to be batshit crazy to face the opponent, especially when we didn't have the foggiest idea what the fuck we were battling against.

"Nah, we're not gonna do that," I replied, trying my best not to offend her. I might've come a bit mean, yet Krystal's proposition wasn't the smartest option. No one in a right state of mind wouldn't willingly leave the sanctuary we were currently in. They might think I am a bitch, but at least, we would be safe. "Let's just stay here."

"What if Jimin's hurt?" Taehyung asked in concern, taking Krystal's side. It wasn't the place, not time for choosing sides, yet it happened. Taehyung was like me, no matter how stupid he was, he was worried about the rest. Without any doubt, he'd sacrifice himself if the group would make it without him. "We can't leave him like that."

Of course, we couldn't! Did he seriously think I didn't know that?

"Let's just go," Krystal added and smirked, and I immediately caught the difference in her voice. Amber realised it, too. Whatever possessed Jimin took over Krystal right now—that's why it was oddly quiet on the other side of the doors.

"Run!" Amber shouted, as she threw herself on Krystal, tackling her down on the floor. The second Amber's voice rang in my ears, I pushed the barricade as quickly as I could, and Taehyung and I escaped the room.

"We can't just leave her," Taehyung said when he looked over his shoulder, looking at Krystal, who was lying on the floor beneath Amber, chortling evilly.

"You're not gonna leave this house alive," Krystal threatened, as she laughed in Amber's face, effortlessly pushing her off of her. Taehyung and I gawked at Krystal whose eyes changed its colour to a very eerie shade of white.

With great dexterity, Krystal threw Amber across the room, smashing the old wardrobe with Amber's unconscious body.

"Run!" I shouted at Taehyung, pulling him with me, as we ran downstairs.

"What's your plan?"

"To get the fuck out of here!" I quickly screamed back at him, my hands instantly fidgeting with the knob. The doors just wouldn't open.

"Let me try," Taehyung proposed, and I took a step back, allowing him to try to break the doors down. Everything in vain, though. We were locked in. "Do you have a plan B?" Taehyung asked, as he hit the doors with his clenched fist in irritation.

"Tools? We need some tools," I said the first that came to my mind. I knew it wasn't the smartest solution, yet that's all I could postulate.

"Okay, just stay here, and I look for something," Taehyung stated and kissed my forehead before he ran off. It was very irresponsible to split up, yet I didn't even get to scold him, since he was already out of my sight. How could he leave me like that? I understood that he didn't want to put me in danger, but as a duo, we were stronger. I had watched way too many horror movies to know that splitting up was the worst thing that we could do.

Trying my best not to panic, I paced around the hall, playing with my fingers. I was left alone, and I didn't like that feeling; that monster that was terrorizing us could come at me anytime.

"Holy shit," I shrieked when I heard a loud thud. Thankfully, it was just Taehyung, and he had found a crowbar. "What took you so long?" I asked, relief washing over me, seeing him safe and sound. I had a bad feeling about it, yet it was only my paranoid suspicion.

"I returned in a speed of light, babe." Taehyung snickered, sending shivers down my spine.

Babe?

Oh, no. Taehyung exclusively called me kitten. He knew how much it annoyed me, he'd not change the pet name; at least, not until it grew on me.

It wasn't him anymore.

Taehyung was gone, and I was, now, face to face with a parasite that lived off him. I was scared beyond common sense, and I had no idea what to do. However, I had to figure something out real quick unless I wanted to be discovered.

"Yeah, maybe you're right, I'm just really scared, you know," I spoke, trying to sound natural. My hands were trembling, all covered in sweat, yet thankfully, my voice didn't break. "Are you ready to get the hell out of here?" I asked, smiling, as I reached for the crowbar.

"Are we really going to leave them behind?" Taehyung asked, as I turned on my heels, facing the doors. With my eyes tightly closed, I bit on my bottom lip, feeling the copper on my tongue. I had to be cautious with my words. I couldn't get busted.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine. Namjoon will pick them up at dawn, and we wait for him outside," I explained, tightening my grip on the crowbar.

"I guess that's reasonable—" Taehyung replied, but before he managed to finish his sentence, I swung the crowbar, and hit him in the head. The blow wasn't powerful enough to kill Taehyung, yet it was sufficient to knock him down. A thin stream of blood seeped from his head, but I didn't worry that much about him, being sure he was going to be alright.

"Shit," I cursed the second lights started flickering.

Using all my strength, I tried to break the doors down with the crowbar, but they didn't even budge. Desperately, I looked around, thinking of another escape way. A broken window had to suffice right now. Even if I was about to break my leg, I wouldn't stand another minute in this fucked up house.

Quickly, I swung my hand, shattering the glass into a million pieces. While clearing the sharp pieces from the frame, I heard a quiet groan. Immediately, I turned around and saw Taehyung who tried to raise his head.

"Careful," I warned him, as I approached him and crouched by his side.

"What the hell happened?" He asked, when he touched his head, wiping the blood off his forehead. "Why does my head hurt so much?"

"I'll explain later," I announced, helping Taehyung to stand up. "We have no time, Tae. I smashed the window, we're getting out of here." He nodded his head before I helped him walk to the window. "You go first."

Taehyung wanted to argue with me, but he couldn't do anything to change my mind. He was wounded, and although it wasn't anything serious, I was still going to force him out of the window if he wouldn't jump out willingly. Nothing would convince me, so he better complied with me.

"Quickly," I urged him, when Taehyung swung his legs over the frame.

"Come on, kitten," Taehyung spoke, waiting for me to join him outside. Shooting one last glance at the interior, I heaved a sigh, and squeezed through the window, landing on my feet beside Taehyung.

Naturally, he entwined his hands with mine, and we jogged away from the house, pressing our backs against the side of his car, slowly sliding down onto the ground. We were both panting, our breaths slowly evening.

"It's 4 o'clock," I stated, as I looked at my phone, "I should probably call Namjoon, but given that the house is packed with cameras, he's already on his way over here."

"Yeah, with a fucking exorcist," Taehyung added and laughed loudly in relief. "What are you doing next weekend?"

I giggled before I turned to look at his face, "I was going to throw an amazing birthday party, but right now, I think I'm gonna treat myself. I fucking deserve it." I uttered, and Taehyung nodded his head, comprehending my words. "Why?"

"I'm gonna intrude that little celebration." Taehyung announced, and I smiled at his bold words.

"Please do."

#taehyung smut #v smut #bts smut #taehyung x reader #v x reader #bts fanfiction #bangtan #bangtan smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #v fanfiction #v fanfic #v scenario #taehyung angst #v angst #bts angst #bangtan angst #bts halloween #bts halloween special

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Come Back Down, Part 14

Title: Come Back Down

Characters: Jensen x Reader, mention of Danneel and twins (I needed a villan, don’t send me hate.)

Warnings: NC-17; Danneel is reflected badly, the schmoopiest smut to ever schmoop is in this chapter. If you already feel nauseated, don’t read this garbage. Mentions of alcohol use. Drunken sex is kind of highlighted in a good way here. Its irresponsible and not a way to do things in real life unless you trust the person you’re with whole heartedly.

This gif is care of Google and whoever created it. Not mine.

Summary: Jensen spends some time away from Y/N, and finds out something that shes been keeping from him. He deals in the best way he can. Emotionally charged smut ensues.

Also, shout out to my twinsie, @tas898 for reading through this and not telling me to delete my blog and stop writing forever. See, that was kind of a normal response, right?

Come Back Down Master List

The room was spinning and no amount of closing my eyes was helping one damn bit. I’d just gotten back to Y/N’s home maybe two hours ago. She was out meeting with someone about photographing an actual event. Which wasn’t what she normally did, but I guess you couldn’t go too far with the way her knee was still giving her trouble.

Of course, I couldn't just meet her out in public like a normal person because of what Danneel had done. I didn't need to just hand over more power to her and her ‘set of lawyers’ that I was no doubt paying for.

 When I’d talked on the phone with Y/N earlier, I could tell just how happy she was to get out of the house. To start returning to her normal everyday life. However, I found myself selfishly pining for the days when we were closed up here. When it felt like it was our own little impenetrable bubble. That was until Danneel had shown up and popped that bubble with a damn axe.

 If only she’d just stopped there, with the axe of demolition that she’d been swinging every day since. It had only been a couple of weeks since that ill-fated day, but damn if she hadn’t already caused some damage.

 Danneel, against what she had previously said she would do, announced the pregnancy on Instagram. It was done with optimum damning in mind, complete with an old picture of us when we’d been happy. Back when I didn’t know better and had been completely snowed.

 Some smart fans had already pointed out how old the photograph was. Citing the length of my beard for reference. It was a little disturbing, but slightly comforting to have someone realize that the picture was at least representing something that didn’t exist anymore.

 There was nothing I could do about it right now without looking like a complete asshole. So, just like everything else that was building up inside me, I let it go.

 Danneel had called me practically every day since she’d dropped the bomb. She never stopped to apologize for manipulating me six ways from Sunday. Mostly to fill me in on what the doctor’s said at her appointments.

  We were having twins. A boy and a girl. The conversations were full of facts and need to know information. I tried to keep them as short as possible and had hung up a few times when she'd tried to say ‘I love you.’ She made it so damn hard to believe.

 I was torn between wanting to be there for these first moments of my children’s lives, but unable to stand the idea of being in the same room as their mother. Which, when I thought about that any further, I swallowed more of Y/N’s liquor cabinet.

 How was I going to be able to stomach going back ‘home’, where my stuff wasn't any longer, to play happy family. Not to mention, I don't know when she decided to turn the tide, but that she had openly manipulated me with intent to cause me extreme harm. There was no way that I could see it as a mother protecting her children. The woman I had married wouldn't have behaved like that.

 It wasn't that long ago that Y/N had slapped me in the face with her ‘truths’ of letting people take advantage of me. Luckily, she had the grace to not shout ‘I told you so.’

 That wasn’t the only thing going on. Like that wasn’t enough to send someone running to the looney bin begging for padded walls and black silence?

 Mike, of all people, had called me two days after I’d left for New York for the CW Upfronts. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of absolute panic that had taken hold of me. I’d just known that something had happened to Y/N while I wasn’t there.

 It turns out that it wasn’t new, what Mike had felt compelled to divulge. I couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that it was Mike who was filling me in, but I knew that Y/N was trying to spare me.

 I now knew what Y/N and Mike had been talking about those several weeks ago. So long ago that I’d even put it out of my mind. I had Y/N’s love and Mike, even though he was still irritating as hell, wasn’t competition.

 It wasn’t surprising to me to realize how easily I trusted Y/N after I’d just had the rug pulled out from under me by someone I’d given everything of myself to. I’d never lost faith in Y/N and she’d never disappointed.

 Even though I now knew the details that she was keeping from me, I still wasn’t mad. I was scared. Terrified even of what could’ve happened and what could possibly still happen.

 Which was why I was doing the mature thing and drinking my feelings. I was feeling reckless, emboldened by the amber liquid I kept consuming. I’d been idly listening to a classic rock station on Y/N’s iPod until a completely ironic song came on. I’m sure my smile was crooked, a laugh getting stuck on the emotion clogging up my throat. Feelings of failure and irony were flooding me from all sides.

 But, what does one do when they are feeling on the edge of some cliff of life?

 The heavy bass guitar had my foot tapping on the floor as I lounged back on Y/N’s neatly made bed. The sun was starting to set, making the shadows creep into the room, but I was mostly oblivious as I belted the words that I’d sang so many times. But never with this much irony.

 “I’ve been run down; I’ve been lied to. I don’t know why I let that mean woman make me a fool. Took all my money. Wrecked my new car. Now she’s with one of my good time buddies, drinking in some cross town bar.

 Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel! Like I’ve been tied to the whipping post. Tied to the whipping post. Tied to the whipping post. Oh lord I feel like I’m dyin’.”

 When Y/N arrived home, I was still mumbling the words, my lips feeling too big for my face with how drunk I’d let myself become. It was funny really. This whole thing was so fucking hilarious!

 “There's m’sweetheart!” I greeted her cheerfully from where I was still laying across her bed. Not in the normal way, of course, but sideways because that was just so much more awesome. “C’me sing w’ me!” I tried to sit up, which was so not cool. I felt even more dizzy and my belly sloshed, full of liquor.

 She stood, leaning on the doorway with a look of shock on her face for longer than I would’ve liked. I didn’t like that she was so far away, with such a look on her face.

 So, I did what any other respectable drunk man would do, I made grabby hands at her since I was stuck by some invisible force to this bed. It was the least she could do, after all.

 She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before she finally crossed the gigantic sea of carpet and laid down next to me. I immediately glommed onto her, throwing my arm and leg over her so she wouldn’t be tempted to run away. I always just wanted her right here. Nothing else mattered sometimes.

 I heard her muffled laugh against my chest before she wormed her way to the surface. “Well hello, happy drunk.” I couldn’t place the look on her face. She was obviously going for amused, but there was something darker there that my inebriated brain just couldn’t process.

 “Hey!” I smiled back, I mean, I think I did. My lips were kind of numb feeling now. “Where have you been?” I felt like a damn happy puppy, just inches from licking her face because I was so damn relieved to see her.

 “Uh, met with a hopeful client who wants me ironically to take pictures at their bouncing baby boy’s first birthday party. That’ll be fun.” She snuggled in closer, finally returning the hold. “I went to eat with one of my friends from the horse riding club that I told you about? Jason?”

 The obviously male name bounced around in my alcohol addled brain for a little longer than it should have. However, I must’ve made the appropriate noise because she continued to speak in a steady tone. Almost too steady.

 “He was a little concerned for me because there’s a rumor circulating in those rags that are at the front of the checkout isle that you’re having an affair. With someone who looks suspiciously like me? The pictures are really old, of course. I think they're from when you visited two summers ago.”

 I heard every word, and somewhere inside I felt the right reaction but I don’t think it ever made it to my face. I should’ve been outraged that there were photos of Y/N in some gossip magazine. I knew I should be jumping on the phone immediately to find out who had sold me out. But, really, I was just not feeling that worried.

 “I’m not worried about it, but I figured it was something you’d want to know.” She answered as if she’d gotten an actual answer from me.

 “Like I should’ve known about your accident?” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I knew I hadn’t wanted to accuse once I’d finally gotten over the shock of it all. I understood why she’d kept it from me. Her default mode was to spare me as much as she could. But she should’ve told me.

 “What about my accident? Why do you say it like that?” Even totally drunk off my ass I could now see the deception, hear that little vibration in her words.

 Even in my current state, the pain and fear filtered through, making it impossible to control my face. I couldn’t stop the stupid moisture that flooded my eyes. I blamed it on the fact that I’d stretched the limits of my emotions so much on Supernatural that they were out of control some times. I felt like that a lot actually, but it was even worse when I couldn’t control my mouth. Much less my facial expressions. “It wasn’t an accident. Why didn’t you tell me…”

 She studied me for what I’m sure was only moments that felt like hours, finally biting her lip and closing her eyes in defeat. “Mike.”

 “You could’ve died; do you realize that? Someone out there wanted to hurt you.” I felt like I was going to choke on my words. The way that my mouth was trying to speak them was too fast for the breath in my lungs. “Someone- It's all my fault. This shouldn't’ve-.”

 “Jen, c’mon, it’s okay. It’s just a theory.” The smile that was obviously aimed at taking the gravity away from my words was absurd. I still let her pull me closer like I was a child so that I could bury my face in her neck like that would bring safety. “There’s no proof…”

 “No. No, don’t say it like that. Like… m’stupid.” I tried my best to get control over my face and emotions and by the look of her watery expression I was failing. Unable to sit up all the way, I turned to look at her awkwardly. “There were other skid marks!”

 “There’s no proof. I can't even remember what happened or if there was another car, Jay!”

 “What about your barn being vandalized last week?”

 Her rosy complexion turned pale instantly and she rolled away from me, “Goddamnit, Michael.”

 I reached for her immediately, clumsily curling myself to fit behind her, my arms holding her tightly. Even with her so close to me I couldn't push out of my mind how afraid I was to lose her. How close I had come to doing just that and I hadn't even known the whole truth. That after further investigation, authorities thought there had been another car involved. Which was strange on the usually quiet stretch of road she had been on.

 I hid my face in the curtain of her sweet smelling hair and breathed it in like it alone would help to calm the panic racing through my bones. “I'm not mad, please don't shut me out.”

 It was irritating how my words sounded clumsy as my chin wobbled and warm moisture leaked down my face unbidden. I felt raw, cracked right open because I was so damn scared. So many things had threatened to take her away from me over the years, but by some miracle I could feel her warmth held right in my arms. I could feel her shuddering breaths as I knew she too was crying.

 “I'm so sorry.” I still felt dizzy, but the conversation had successfully killed any type of euphoric buzz I'd gained from the alcohol, leaving me with only a deep instinctual need. “Please, Y/N. I can't lose you.” I knew it wasn't exactly healthy, but most days I felt like I was barely hanging on.

 “God, it's not your fault, Jay.” Her whisper was wet but sincere as she pushed back into my embrace. Her hands covered mine as one held tightly around her waist. The other pressed tightly against her chest where her selfless heart beat heavy against my palm.

 The ache in my chest burned heavy as my tear wet lips kissed at the exposed skin of her neck. This was different than anything I'd ever felt before. It was desperation that dissolved any logical thought. The need for the affirmation provided by feeling her warm skin against mine.

 She turned her head so that her lips could meet mine and I knew she felt the low hum of desire that was slowly taking me apart and driving me crazy. “I'm so sorry, Jay.” Her voice was quiet but easily audible in the silence of the darkening room as she whispered against my lips. “I didn't want you to worry.”

 I pushed in closer, my tongue demanding entrance and exploring every cavern that I'd missed while I was away. My body was full of tension, my cock taking notice when she rolled her hips. “Ah, fuck.” The slight pressure made my hips stutter and my words come out as an embarrassing whine. My already half hard cock filled with more blood as my desperation for her grew.

 There was a flurry of motion as we both pulled our clothes off in a way that didn't pull us too far apart. We stayed on our sides and when we were finally naked, the press of her warm skin almost took me apart.

 I was the reason her whole life had been turned upside down. Someone had tried to get rid of her to hurt me. Someone, not something had caused her damn car to go careening into a ravine where she was left to die.

 I wasn't completely in control anymore, my entire body vibrating with equal parts need and desperation. A sheen of sweat had lined both of our bodies, slicking the way as we rocked together and devoured each other’s mouth.

 A violent shiver wracked my entire body when she wrapped a hand around my now throbbingly hard cock. I was leaking so heavily just from the friction of rubbing against her ass when she stroked me a few times. “Oh fuck-!” She had all of the power and I let her take control because I wanted her so damn much I felt weak with it. “Baby, please…”

 “Yeah, Jay.” Her breath was sweet as it brushed across my lips, her voice giving away how wrecked she was too as she guided me to her entrance.

 She dragged the tip through her wet folds as I twitched helplessly in her grip. I was so wound up, the fingers of one hand digging hard into her hip and I wasn't even inside her yet. I nibbled and sucked at the salty skin of her neck to keep from pleading, to stifle the moans of frustration clogging up my throat as I had a hand on one of her breasts.

 She was the perfect handful, her nipple immediately standing to attention against my palm. She moaned, pushing forward into my hand and undulating back against me.

 The want that was burning inside wasn't just sparked by some lust filled fantasy. It was sharp need. The overwhelming feelings of love and the need to protect and claim were almost painful because I was so close. She was right here in my arms and she was all I ever wanted.

 When I finally slid inside her, the connection was a momentary relief. “Oh fuck, you feel so good. So good, Y/N.” She rolled further onto her side, letting my body blanket hers and slide even deeper, making us both moan.

 I don't know how she knew that I needed to be as close as possible. Or if she even knew that it would drive me wild to be able to cage her in. The position wasn't one that I would've thought of, but it was perfect. I could feel her warm and wanting beneath me, pushing back against me in an effort to make me move.

 I slid my hand from her hip to tease her clit with light circles with my middle finger. She moaned into her pillow, her free hand sliding down my flank to grip my ass, trying to pull me in deeper.

 There was sweat beading at my hair line and tracking down my temple from holding back. The way she was gripping me so tightly made the drag out feel so good and the sharp thrust in near agony. I couldn't help the low moans leaving my throat as I set up a steady rhythm.

 Her pleas to go harder, to please go faster were taking me apart more swiftly than I would've liked our first time to be. But I couldn't stop it, this feeling building up inside of me. The deep connection I was feeling wasn't something I'd felt in a very long time. It made everything feel new and sharp in its focus.

 She was pushing back, meeting me thrust for thrust as I gave a little more pressure to my two fingers working her clit in tandem. I could feel her whole body starting to tense, the bite of her nails as she gripped my ass harder.

 She was moaning my name desperately over and over as my other hand plucked a nipple. I felt like I was so in sync with her, like my hands were playing a guitar I'd had for years. The noises she was making, the panting of her breath against her pillow a complicated melody I was pulling out of her. My own groans of pleasure a complementary baseline to our song.

 When she came she pressed herself back hard, clenching tightly around my dick and dragging me with her. She dragged a hoarse cry out of me, and I held her even tighter as I fell apart.

 Her free hand came up to grip the hair at the back of my head as her lips awkwardly connected with mine and I moaned helplessly into her mouth. I rocked into her until the sensitivity was too painful, just relishing the feel of being inside her.

 When I finally slipped out of her and rolled onto my back, I was shaking violently from head to toe. The intensity had nearly been too much. The sheen of sweat was starting to cool and I was already missing the proximity of her body against mine until she rolled over and laid her head on my chest.

 My arms immediately pulled her closer, partly terrified of how I was feeling and how much of myself I was willingly giving away. She had the power to crush me into so many pieces that I'd never be whole again.

 I knew I'd be paying for my choices in the morning. When my eyes slipped shut as she kissed my chest where my heart was beating a painful rhythm and held me tighter, I knew it was well worth the agony.

 Tagging: @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyxx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @jensen-gal, @theoneandonlysaucymo, @27bmm, @callmesatansprincess, @hbenth, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @mysteriouslyme82, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @spn67-sister, @wheresthekillswitch, @melissaj616, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @mandymoiselle1970, @glendagiggles, @pansexualmeteorite, @tas898

Sorry this took so long! Of course I would feel motivated to update something that didn’t have a due date. Let me know what you think!

#jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles smut #come back down #jensen ackles fluff #drunk sex ensues #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles drabble #jensen ackles one shot

[aura-alora]

Thoughts on a post I saw...

Trigger warning 

Let me just get this out of the way before I delve into my unpopular opinion: I am pro-choice when it comes to abortion.

Ok, now that is out of the way, so let’s talk about this post. 

So I saw this post that basically listed thing you should and should not say to people who are considering having an abortion, and some elements of it really rubbed me the wrong way. Firstly, under the “don’t” column, they had this:

Personally, I would never have an abortion

Abortion shouldn’t be used as birth control

And I take serious issue with that, especially the 1st one. I don’t see how telling someone what you would do in their situation is offensive, or at least, it shouldn’t be. I’m talking about myself, but I’m not stopping you from doing your own thing--so why is it a problem? Does my saying this make you feel guilty? If someone told me this, I’d just say “Good for you” and then do my own thing. They are not enforcing their beliefs on me. They are not emotionally manipulating me (aka ‘abortion is murder!’). They are just telling me what they’d do in a similar situation. You do you, boo. Let me put it in another way:

You go out and join the army. I think the military are just glorified murderers. I say to you, “Personally, I’d never join the army.” And you’re offended by that? 

WTF? Surely, if you’re joining the army, you know you’re going out to kill people because that is what joining the army entails. So why would you be offended when I say I don’t want to do that? Why does my opinion on the military have any effect on what you think about the military? 

Short answer: It doesn’t. You need to get over yourself. We’re having a conversation, which means sometimes you’re going to hear something you don’t like. You can either accept that we have different opinions, or throw a tantrum and ruin the friendship because of it. And personally I don’t think an off-handed comment like that should be the cause of a ruined friendship. Just my opinion though, and I’ve never been in that situation, but I don’t think any of my friends would get upset with me if they told me wanted an abortion and I said it was something I wouldn’t do, but I’d be there for them if they needed me.

Secondly, the birth control comment. I can sort of see how this one could be seen as insensitive, and it’s probably something I would not personally say to someone, but really now. There are a plethora of birth control methods someone should use (condom, IUD, the morning-after pill, pull out, ‘safe’ days, ANAL etc.), and they should not be having major surgery every single time they get pregnant because of irresponsible behaviour. I’m no medical expert, but I can only imagine what issues this might cause down the line. If you’re doing this, why not just get your womb taken out, or get your tubes tied and be done with it? Why not have your partner get ‘snipped’? (especially since that’s reversible)

My friend knew someone like this, and it just REALLY pissed me off. This friend of my friend had AT LEAST THREE ABORTIONS by the time she was 17 years old...wtf? If that doesn’t scream “irresponsible” then what does? You can’t just run away from the problems you have created, it’ll come back to bite you in the arse eventually. Abortion is not supposed to be used as a ‘get-out-of-jail’ free card, it is meant to help women in desperate need who can’t raise a child for a variety of reasons. A lot of women who went through it say it’s traumatic, and it stays with you even after you’ve done it! If you use abortion as birth control then I’m sorry, but you’re just being completely disrespectful to the women who actually need it. You are the reason that pro-lifers are calling abortion ‘murder’. You are the reason people don’t see abortion as a necessity. And I know the main counter argument to this is that: it’s your body, you can do what you like (and that’s a valid counter-argument)--that won’t stop me from thinking you’re a dick. Abortion should be the last resort, not the first. Especially in an age where information and contraception is freely available.

To put this in perspective, imagine this: I am an irresponsible driver. I drive recklessly and get into crashes frequently. Every time I get into a crash, I go to kick starter and raise money to pay for the damages.Or maybe I get money from the insurance company. Over time, people will stop taking me seriously. They’ll see me as a waste of money because I refuse to fix my behaviour. You see where I’m going with this? 

Why is this situation unacceptable, but using abortion as birth control is? It’s the same basic premise: I’m irresponsible, and I expect other people to solve my problem for me. At least, that’s how I see it. I can understand if it happens once or twice, but using it continuously? Nah, fam. I’ll have to respectfully disagree with you there. My brother argues that if you can get away with it, why should you be forced to face the consequences of your actions? And that argument just feels so wrong to me, though I don’t have an argument against it that doesn’t involve my personal ethics. But imagine if you extended that argument to murder or theft something else that’s completely wrong. If you don’t have to face the consequences, why should you? Ugh...Reminds me of this story where a girl was mistakenly paid R14 million by the student financial aid scheme and now it’s all complicated because they’re arguing whether she should pay it back or not. Many people were saying she was right to spend and keep the money since it was legally hers, but that is just.so.wrong.

SO those were just the things that bothered me about the ‘don’t column’. I can see why they say you shouldn’t say it, because it’s insensitive--but firstly, I’m just giving my (fairly harmless) opinion on the 1st one and secondly, it’s fucking true that abortion shouldn’t be used as birth control, and sometimes the truth is a bitter pill to swallow (though I’m sure people will say this is a subjective truth just because personally I feel it is morally reprehensible, but I do think it is a universal thing that people should not be ‘rewarded’ or ‘excused’ for being reckless all the time)

And there was something in the ‘do’ column that bothered me too (btw, it was the only thing in the ‘do’ column):

“It’s your decision and I support you.”

The second part of that statement is just NO. I can respect your decision without endorsing it. If you’re just coming to me to get your ego stroked and hear the things you want to hear, it’s probably best not to come to me. I support your right to choose, but I also support thinking critically about something before you do it.

#personal #trigger warning #unpopular opinion #abortion

[sergioglct820-blog]

Auto Accident Settlement Dallas: 10 Things I Wish I'd Known Earlier

If a lawyer decreases to handle your http://craigglickmanlawfirm.com/Child-Custody.php case, don't be angered. Instead inquire for a recommendation of a legal representative they think might have the ability to help you with your case.

If you've been hurt in an accident, then you might be able to recuperate compensation. Remember that you should take legal advice from a quality personal injury attorney as soon as possible after your mishap to guarantee that you get the settlement you deserve. Get legal assistance for your injuries by discovering an injury legal representative that has experience in your claim location and is confident he can assist you.

So whether you remain in any state in the United States, you can quickly look for legal help in your local law firms or in online sites. You just have to select between these 2 alternatives and after that, you can already pick a lawyer who focuses on personal injury cases. There are numerous attorneys in the directory site however if you wish to limit your searches, you must take a look at the directory of injury legal representatives.

Many times, when individuals are involved in personal injury cases, they do not seek the assistance of injury legal representatives for fear that doing so will be too pricey and complicated. As you all may understand, filing a case and the entire court proceedings is so difficult and worst, they cost you lots of money. These have become the significant disadvantages of injury cases. But the good idea these days-- there are lots of law office at present that reduce those worries right now. And, getting the services of personal injury attorneys has already become a simple and easy task.

If a bicyclist is associated with a mishap where a 3rd party is at fault, an accident payment claims may be brought against the upsetting 3rd party. In addition to acquiring payment for your injuries, you might likewise be able to recuperate losses in respect of damage to your bike and clothing along with loss of profits by starting a personal injury compensation claim.

Although slips and falls can often be the reason for a few of the most uncomfortable injuries, if you were to Discover more here some degree responsible for causing your injuries, it is not likely that you will be able to make an accident payment claim.

Injury lawyers can help on cases where something wrong was done to you. Cases as cars and truck mishaps resulting from another's driving under the influence, physical injury because of a defective item, poisoning because of the ruined food served by a dining establishment, health problem because of drug consisting of damaging components or maybe by medical malpractice by a physician, injury because of uncalled for actions and hazards by another individual, and much more, which endanger the safety of a private and detrimentally agitate one's psychological, physical and psychological well-being.

If you have actually been physically hurt or injured due to another person's commission of an act or because of another's carelessness, you can submit a claim and need for damages. Also, if you feel your credibility was destroyed by the disparaging words of another, and if you feel you were maltreated by your boss because of his screaming, then you likewise have recourse in the legal arena.

Now, as soon as you are encouraged that you require a personal injury lawyer, you need to present the effort of first finding the ideal person for your case. Here are a couple of tips on picking the best lawyer for you.

The final test needs to always be to meet with the lawyer. In such a meeting you can discuss the payment technique (contingency or flat-fee), but more significantly you wish to attempt to assess if this individual seems qualified. Keep in mind things like, what law school he/she attended? Did they pass the bar on their very first try? For how long have they been practicing personal injury in your check here state? Will they let you talk to some of their newest customers? All of these factors taken together must give you a basic impression of whether your injury lawyer is qualified, if not great.

If you suffer accidental accident or damages through the fault of another, that person or organisation is legally responsible (responsible) and can be required to pay settlement. To identify responsibility, the court looks for negligence -- recklessness by one of the celebrations involved. Whoever is identified to have actually been less mindful (i.e. more irresponsible), is lawfully responsible for a minimum of part of the damages incurred.

Choose an injury attorney experienced in dealing with insurance companies. Insurance company attorneys represent most personal injury case offenders. These business lawyers look for to pay the least amount possible, so an unskilled personal injury lawyer may be at a drawback in these settlements. Therefore, selecting a personal injury attorney with a proven performance history of successful settlements is necessary.

The level of your claim generally depends on the seriousness of your injury. You are entitled to claim for loss of incomes as well as settlement for physical injuries and emotional distress. In many cases, for example asbestos illnesses, your family is entitled to declare on your behalf.

Friends and families can be impacted too, the mental anguish for them being nearly as traumatic as it is for you. You https://www.washingtonpost.com/newssearch/?query=Personal Injury Lawyer Dallas TX might require brief- and even long-lasting care. Not all injuries are short-term. Many people who dealt with products which contain asbestos in the 20th century have established lung cancer or mesothelioma cancer. These are both really severe illnesses that can have unfavorable affects throughout life and possibly cause death.

Law Firm of S. Craig Glickman

4925 Greenville Ave, Suite 200

Dallas, Texas 75206

[phone]

https://craigglickmanlawfirm.com

https://goo.gl/maps/DWiuWTLJxNfetvVC6

#Auto Crash Lawyer Dallas

[melomilf-blog]

The Lifestyle and Music

How is musical fame influential on personal lifestyle? 

Top notch!! well not every one who is singing is actually successful now it? There are several stereotypes that surrounds the musical atmosphere and industry. Could it be that most do it all the wrong reasons? I don't know about that but if you have any clue you can evaluate your opinion about the situation. Now let's look at the most common trait amongst most musicians: to tell the truth most of those musical elites out there started from nothing really but either ways no matter the situation they most if not just happen to have a shuffled attitude along the line. If not arrogant maybe extravagant but often 'ar' replaces the 'ex'. Is like shipment of the mind to a totally different dimension. Some of these stars even go to an extend of adapting to overwhelming party lifestyle and drug abuse, forget about family and responsibilities and eventually leave a very quarantined life. Can you really blame a real woman who wants nothing to do with sharing her handsome man? I don't think so cause if women were meant to be subjected to being the first lady amongst many they probably will go with the guy to "lady hunt". Is the fame and musical aura the reason why "hooker enticed lifestyle is so on courage"? Yet another question we need to ask ourself. However, the most important point to look at after all and along all the successful is the people we used to be before all and why you even wanted to get a break through into the industry? Truth be told the music industry is a very dirty game and with that being said most of the very most successful artist and legends gamble away their lives for fortune although initially the focus was to share talent and make our talents recognized.

The role of media in promoting overrated musical lifestyle

 Now lets look at who plays a major role in disseminating all this overly reckless adapted conduct. Whenever a star or artist does something like resorting church, that I can tell you never goes overhead but if the same artist get into a pornographic movie or gang-banging or mounts to the one to two etc "bitch" lifestyle every journalist, paper, radio and TV goes all the way to put that down. You might ask why stating all that?, the reason is the mind usually adapt to frequent exposure as the norm of life, now say all this goes viral and kids in their teen are exposed to such media promoted recklessness, I will say sure that kid who is going to church will start thinking about becoming a musician but for what remain a mystery. To answer that "for what question", kids honestly look up to their elders in their early ages to learn and configure those figure to be role models. When kids see rappers smoking weed, displaying nudity or living a gangster life on music videos they tend to think thats the way to go in life. Should we speak about the end time now? I don't think so because the shit stings and stinks but it has been for long and will continue to be as long as we keep blaming irresponsibility on life success and treasurable moments. Fact is before all that you were human once, maybe even got fortunate enough to struggle in life to notice the difference between perseverance and gifted, had conscience to do good. 

Does is really have too be a bad attitude change, recked lifestyle habits or wasted personality trait the heat music takes for making you a better person?

say you know who you were and had dreams before you become the "top notch" in the industry, you know your calling, shit maybe you even wanted to do it for lil brother to go to school but all in all you did it because you knew you can and you knew you have something to share. Why does it have to be flexing money, drugs and naked strippers on your videos and songs, can't it be just that pretty lady or ladies wearing decently sexy but still respectable enough?. Think what that will do, it will definitely make the world a better place by opening doors for more fashion advertisement and hence designers inspiration and to few jobs as well. Does it have to be in favor of pornography or orgy scenes, what if you were to find your six year old twerking to your auntie at a family gathering? IOWW! you din't think about that now did you, and fact is it would be very embarrassing display yet you are to blame for ruining an innocent mind. Let use our power of voice to change the world to a better place than turning it apart and blaming on some superstitious evil 'crap'. We are to blame!. Music is you weapon, passion, domino, your greatest desire and yet you need to own it and not to let it own you, take control and let the music play on!!!!

Every needs a good sound every once in a while

By Phineas Makola