#p:wolf

[angels1x1]

title tba

sorry, sorry, sorry. that was all anya had said for the entire drive to the laundry mat and for some time inside of it. she’d said ‘sorry’ so many times that it didn’t sound like a real word to her anymore. sore-ry, sore-ry, sore-ry. she’d been (not-so) kindly asked to stop, but the alcohol has a tight grip on her memory, and every few minutes or so, she forgets and starts all over again. "you’re driving me nuts, bitch!” she hears in her head - an echo of a memory, steph’s raspy voice from another incident where anya was too drunk to read the room, a reminder to read it now. it did the job. she pressed her lips together as tightly as she could until that fine line started to ache. when her mouth refuses her, she thinks it - over and over on an endless loop. and as she hands the boy the last of her quarters for the machine, eyes transfixed by the way the coins reflect the fluorescent light, she laughs at the thought of the word dancing on her tongue, spinning out and sounding as ridiculous as it did in her head - sore-y. but the laugh is loud. too loud for the situation she had put herself in with this irritated stranger, too happy for all of the drama she’d caused tonight. she regrets this instantly. she can see the boy’s rough hand form a tight, clenched fist around the quarters, and she knows without words that she has vexed him further. she tries to avoid looking up, but succumbs to her curiosity, and her eyes meet his. the silence and stone cold expression he gives are enough to sober her for a few more minutes, bend her gaze into submission, rouge her cheeks. “sorry.” she whispers with a bow of her head. “sore-y”.

anya clumsily turns on her heels and walks toward the door a few feet away, gaze straight ahead on the boy’s moving refection in the dirty glass storefront. she watches him angrily toss his shirt in to be washed, and slightly slam the door closed. chewing nervously on her bottom lip, she calls steph’s phone and gets lost in the sound of the ringing, only brought back by the loud “hey, this is steph, leave a message or leave me alone”. she hangs up. after the fifth time of being sent to voicemail, she sends a text as quickly and legibly as her thumbs can create for her : “cllal em back!!! need ridehome :// in laudnyr mat w aMEAN GUY!!”. anya lets out a sigh, long and soured by the smell of vodka. of course this would happen. every time stephanie made anya an unwilling participant of one of her outings, there was always some dramatic end. anya knew that there was only one goal for steph during these parties. she knew that for her friend, pretending to be interested in going out was far easier than admitting that she just wanted to sleep with derrick. anya knew that her role in all of this was simple and foolproof; go out, mingle with other people, don’t cause any problems, and find steph later. the plan was easy but god, was it boring. could stephanie really blame her for getting so drunk? could this angry shirtless boy blame her either? what’s worse, is that she always faced the brunt of her friend’s anger, always at fault for her shitty skills at being a proper wingwoman. she wondered what lecture her blonde friend would give to her on the way back home tonight. she pieced together fragments of past tirades in her head, stitched them up to create something new, yet familiar. “you always do this - i can’t keep watching over you like your mom, anya - i ask you for one thing -you’re an adult you should know your limits! - you’re driving me nuts, bitch!”. anya would nod and agree, but she never truly listened to these wise words. maybe now was a good time to start, she thinks. glancing back up she catches the boy’s reflection once more, stares at it while he putters around on his phone. she wants to say something to him, anything to make things right, but she knows it is probably best to hold off for a second. she awkwardly plops down in the closest seat to her, the light blue one to the left in a row of three. slouching in the plastic chair , covered in the cool air that rushed out of the vent just above her head, she watches him attentively as he leans shirtless against the bustling machine in front of her. she notices the way it makes his shoulders shake, just the tiniest bit. her mouth aches to speak to him. she wonders if he wanted to say something too.  

but he hadn’t spoken to her since they left the bonfire, ignored her completely in the ride over, and most likely wasn’t going to start right now. she couldn’t blame him. what she did was disgusting, and she was painfully embarrassed. maybe it was better if they stayed silent. no matter how much she wants to talk about it, wants to explain herself to him, wants to apologize, or crack a joke to ease the tension, no words come out right anyway. or perhaps she just wasn’t trying hard enough. she smiles at the thought of this. yes, yes, she was sober enough now, wasn’t she? this was the time to start again, let him see that the girl she was thirty minutes ago was long gone. she was different now, couldn’t he see? was her vision still blurry? yes. was her equilibrium fucked? yes. but had her nausea finally subsided? well, no, but she was working on it. she takes two deep breaths before standing up again, deciding that it is now or never. she walks over in the most composed way that she can, focused on not tripping over herself. brushing past, she hops on top of  the machine just next to where he is standing. both legs in front of her and with the help of her arms to push hoist her body upright, she does this more gracefully than she had expected of herself - she guesses the same for him, though he doesn’t ever turn to look at what she’s accomplished. the metal is cold against her skin. goosebumps rise on the part of her leg that her skirt doesn’t cover, but she doesn’t mind them. she’s focused on the top of his head. she wills him to look up at her, but he doesn’t. speak, anya. speak, anya. speak, anya. you’re an adult, you should know your limits. speak, anya. you’re driving me n- “hey,” she says finally, voice slightly hoarse, tone unsure. she realizes that she’s stuck now. her grand plan had stopped here, and she never actually gave herself the time to think of what to say next. what could she say? no more apologizing, that would surely drive him insane.  “what song were you playing? before the.. you know...?”

[angels1x1]

anya blurb #1

Today was a different day. Not particularly nice, nor was it particularly bad - it was just different. Anya couldn’t quiet articulate why, and she didn’t want to waste too much energy thinking about the possibilities, either. She just knew that something was off. Not exactly wrong, just off. It felt as though the universe had assumed a different vibration, and she was the only person who could sense it. She felt this the moment she woke up to sun pooling in the room, and highlighting the other side of the bed which was unkempt and empty. This wasn’t so unusual as Flynn normally woke up earlier than she did, and left the apartment before Anya could even say ‘Hello’. She didn’t mind this. Flynn had places to be and things to do, and obviously they were important, even if he hardly told her what those things were. She would go about her business alone, making herself breakfast and getting dressed, dancing around the apartment to music she’d play from her phone. She was prepared to go about this little routine today, but when she entered their small kitchen to concoct something to eat, she saw him. There, leaning against the fridge, smoking his last few puffs of a cigarette, was Flynn. He doesn’t notice her at first, but when he does he gives her a half smile. Any other normal person wouldn’t dare go so far as to call it a smile, it was something more like a soft grin, but it was something small that Anya had learned to appreciate over time. With Flynn she had realized early on that it was best to take in as much warmth as she could because Flynn could go cold for days on end, like a brutal winter she couldn’t ever see herself getting through. But she managed by holding onto the soft moments he gave her sometimes, keeping them close to her heart in case she needed them. She smiles back at him. She wants to ask where he was headed to today, if he was going to meet up with Briar, if she could come with him or if not, when he’d be back, or perhaps if he thought that maybe he could stay in with her today just this once - But she doesn’t get the chance. He puts out his cigarette against the fridge and flicks it out of the open window before giving Anya a brisk peck on the cheek, and shouting that he’d be back later. The door shuts and she’s alone, but the musky smell of her boyfriend lingers long after he has gone. “I love you too.” she whispers to no one.

[angels1x1]

Anya’s head snapped up from its spot on a pillow, her elbows helping to prop up her torso on the couch.  “What?” The girl had been in her apartment with her friend for the entirety of the day, doing nothing but talking and watching movies. Anya hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed from when Stephanie had first arrived until she sat up. “We got invited to a bonfire.“ Steph whispered, partly to Anya, and partly to her phone. Her tone hinted of annoyance, as if Anya had asked a stupid question, but Anya ignored it. The girl stared at her friend, waiting for further elaboration, but it failed to come. “By... who?” Anya asked her finally, her brows stitching together. Steph tapped a few more words into her phone before looking up at Anya. She blinked once, a grin tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Derrick,” she replied smugly, knowing how her friend would react - which she did, Anya rolled her eyes and sunk back down into the la-z-boy, directing her attention back to her television. When the two girls were young, Steph had created two rules for herself: stay away from boys, because they were trouble, and stay away from Logan Park boys, because they were assholes. She’d broken this rule shortly after, dating (and) or fooling around with more boys than Anya could bother to keep up with, most recently, Derrick. By now Steph had probably forgotten all about her childhood vow, but Anya remembered. She found the whole thing to be quite comical at first, but lately it became annoying. The girl huffed. “I’m not in the mood to third wheel.” Steph groaned, getting up from her chair to sit on Anya. Anya didn’t think it was funny in the slightest, but she didn’t protest, either. “It’s not third wheeling, A, other people will be there too.” Anya didn’t respond, but Steph never took “no” for an answer. She tussled the girls hair and bounced on her, complaining until Anya finally gave in - and she always did. “You always leave me!” Anya protested, turning her body so that she could look Steph in the eyes. Her friend only scoffed. “I won’t leave you.” She reached into her back pocket and retrieved her phone to check the time. It was apparent to Anya now that the affair was happening soon. “But, hey,” Steph started, “If you come, you could meet people. And stop leeching off of me. Finally.”  She began to chuckle at her own comment (Steph had a laugh like a cartoon character. Yak Yak Yak. So pitched and silly, the listener often assumed they were the brunt of it), and Anya joined in too, hoping that her friend was just joking. 

And that was all it took, really. Before she knew it, the two were putting on their shoes and hopping into Steph’s Volvo. They drove with the windows down, letting the warm air kiss their skin.  The ride was nice at first, but time ticked on and the sky grew a few shades darker. After thirty minutes, Anya grew anxious. “Is this thing in Albany? Jesus..”  she murmured, rolling up the window. The car was suddenly surrounded by trees. Anya didn’t have the slightest clue as to where they could be. They drove for a bit longer until they reached a clearing where many other cars were parked. “Chill, ” Steph replied cooly, driving up and finally parking. “We’re here.” They both let out sighs as they freed themselves from their seat belts and opened the doors. From a distance they could hear people and see the small glow of a fire. They followed a dirt path towards it when suddenly, Anya grabbed Steph by the arm, restricting her movement. Steph stopped walking and swiveled her torso around, Her expression bellowing confusion. “Please don’t leave me for the entire night.” Anya pleaded, suddenly serious. Steph only laughed, yanking her arm away and wrapping it around her friend’s shoulder as she began to walk towards the throng of people. “I won’t leave you.”

She left her, but Anya didn’t really mind. She had seen Steph and Derrick when she had first arrived (which was too ago), but lost them soon after. For the rest of the night, she sat awkwardly in a chair by herself, not talking to anyone, taking small breaks from people watching to gaze at the sun setting and swat bugs that landed on her arms.  She couldn’t help but to feel out of place. These people weren’t really her sort of crowd. But, to be honest, neither was Steph. Anya had thought about cutting ties with the girl many times, planning what she’d say, typing out the text, the lot. But every time she would talk herself out of it. They had been a two headed creature for so long, Stephanie-and-Anya. She couldn’t bring herself do it.

After the sun had set completely and the stars began to reveal themselves, Anya stood up from her chair and walked over to where all of the alcohol was housed. She wasn’t a drinker, really. Her parents never drank and the first time she had dried it, she didn’t like the taste of alcohol. But, she had been dragged to so many things like this that she drank from boredom, not from desire. Anya had so much practice, that she’d gotten good at making drinks that didn’t taste awful, no matter what materials she had (fireball whiskey, cream soda, and ginger ale turned out to be more tasty than she thought). She was a little luckier tonight though, finding some off brand soda and mixing it with vodka. After about thirty minutes and five and a half shots total, Anya told herself that she was loose enough to have a decent time.

Red solo in hand, she decided to sit down and wait for Steph in a lawn chair a good distance away from the fire. Her vision began to double, but she continued to watch everyone’s actions like she’d done earlier. Most people were talking in small groups, or playing drinking games, but something else caught her attention suddenly. She started to hear music, and craned her neck around until she saw the source. In a chair not too far from her sat, boy with bright and unwelcoming eyes, strumming a song on his guitar that Anya was sure she knew the name of (But in actuality did not). She didn’t know why, but she felt compelled to get a closer view. Or dance. Or something. She stood up, almost toppling back down as she did, and doddered over to an empty spot near him. Her movements were sloppy and loud, so loud, that the boy looked up for a moment and locked eyes with her. He looked back down at his instrument, but glanced up at her once more. She held the boy’s gaze for just a moment longer, until something inside Anya unwound and she almost said something.

[krisxtlou]

Wolf || Junho & Kris

Whenever Kris Wu needed a distraction, there was always one person he can turn to. One person whom always found a way to make Kris forget everything. Forget the virus. Forget his once love. Everything didn't matter when Kris was with him.

That one person was Lee Junho.

Lee Junho was older than Kris was by two years and yet it felt as if they were the same age. It wasn't like either had feelings for each other. They just knew how to distract each other. Kris knew that whenever he needed a distraction Junho would be there. And Kris would do the same for Junho. However, because of his constant travelling, Kris was usually the one to find Junho.

Today was one of those days where a distraction was desperately needed. Luckily, Kris was near where he knew his 'friend' lived. Sighing, Kris made his way into the gas station.

"Junho hyung?" he called, looking around.

[perrylevine]

Plan B | Wolf & Perry

Perry waited in the living room of their apartment, nerves shot, thoughts split between Oliver and the sponsor he had to seduce today, and their decision to tell Wolf everything they knew. He was a smart kid, but without the right guidance she felt he might go barrelling into a situation they didn't want. One that would get him killed. When he walked in, leaving the safety and quiet space of his room, she pointed to the elevator and followed him into it. Even if she had the words to say something comforting, they wouldn't leave her mouth. If anyone overheard what she was about to say, the entire Rebellion would go up in smoke.

When the doors opened to the rooftop, Perry pulled the young boy out, the winds whipping her hair about. How could she do it? 'Hey, by the way, don't worry about killing anyone because we're gonna come get you out?' No. "Wolf, we need to talk." There, that was easy enough. She sighed, and fingered the strand of hair he had cut short the day before. "There's something you need to know, and you absolutely cannot tell anyone else."