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woniedarlin · 2 days ago

Note

Hi! I actually absolutely love your fic of jungwon being down bad for tsundere reader so I was wondering if you could write something where the roles are reversed and jungwon is the tsundere one 🤍

Chasing a Tsundere

pairing: tsundere! Jungwon x fem! reader

synopsis: You fell for Jungwon—hard. Unfortunately for you, he just had to be the grumpiest, most emotionally unavailable person ever to exist. He pushed you away, rolled his eyes at your persistence, and made it very clear he wasn’t the romantic type.

But giving up? Not an option. Because this is Jungwon we’re talking about.

author's note: Hello, my lovelies! This was so much fun to write. Big thanks to Anonie for the request—I hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

caution: cursing and a bit of angst (tell me if there’s more!) , this story contains excessive tsundere behavior and a very persistent main character. Side effects may include secondhand embarrassment. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

You leaned over Jungwon’s desk with your brightest smile, holding out a bento box wrapped in a pink cloth. “I made this for you. It’s your favorite! I even cut the veggies into stars!”

"Tch," Jungwon dismissed. "I don't want that disgusting slop."

If only he could have tasted that heavenly creation at least once. I mean, imagine turning down a homemade dish made with such effort? Poor you, who only deserved so much more.

He barely glanced up from his textbook as his pen continued to scribble down notes. “Why would I eat food from someone who burns toast?”

You pouted and clutched the bento to your chest. “That was one time, Jungwon. One time! Besides, I didn’t burn this.”

"I don't want your germs. Who knows what kind of gross crap is in there," he said; in which you glanced around the classroom; a few of your friends sent pity looks on your way. No one understood why you were so smitten with him, but they respected it nonetheless.

A few of your classmates looked to be in a similar state of enchantment. Maybe you should try it with them instead of the grinch?

"What do I have to do to make you go away?” Jungwon's words sting a bit.

“I don’t know.’’

You weren't even slightly intimidated or bothered, which was amusing. Most people would have backed off, but you just stood there. It wasn't enjoyable but also somewhat impressive. Not that he'd ever admit that. A long sigh erupted from his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He slammed his pen down, causing a few heads to turn, but he cared little. “Sit. Down. Go bug someone else.” He gritted out through clenched teeth.

”Please accept?’’ you showed the bento.

You were persistent with your efforts; he had to commend you for that, though he’d never admit it to your face. That would give you too much of an ego boost.

He eyed the bento in your hand, his stomach betraying him by growling quietly. He hadn’t eaten all lunch, so the aroma of the homemade food was almost too tempting to resist. But still, the stubbornness won out. "No. I’m not interested in your food. Why do you insist on wasting your efforts on me?”

“Please?”

Shit. He couldn’t help but think, “How can I say no to someone so sweet?”

He sighed, finally looking at you with that familiar, unimpressed stare. “Just leave it on the desk. I’ll think about it.”

A small victory! You quickly set the box down. “I knew you couldn’t resist. I’ll see you later!” You skipped away before he could respond.

He glanced between the bento and the door you’d disappeared through. His stomach growled once more, begging to be fed. With another sigh, he opened the bento box and slowly ate. “Not bad…”

☔️

The rain fell hard as you stood at the school gates, holding your bag to keep it dry. You sighed and watched the heavy rain, getting ready to run for it. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out to you.

"You planning on running out in that weather? Do you have a death wish or something?"

Jungwon approached you, umbrella in hand. Before you could even respond, he thrust the umbrella into your hands. “Take it,” he said curtly, glancing at you for only a second before entering the rain, completely unprotected.

“Wait!” you called after him, holding the umbrella out. “What about you?” You extended the umbrella, an offer of protection from the relentless rain. Jungwon paused, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"I don't need it."

His face didn't reveal it, but the gesture touched him. He had been trying to push you away, to make you dislike him, but all you did was offer him shelter from the downpour when you needed it. He couldn't help but admit the irony.

“Don’t catch a cold, idiot.”

☔️

It was another typical day. The hallways were busy with students. But all you could think about was how warm Jungwon’s arm felt as you held onto him.

You had been walking together, but you wanted to be closer. So, you wrapped your arm around his and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt the tension leave your body as you relaxed into him. He was always warm, and being this close to him felt right.

You noticed Jungwon stiffen almost instantly, his eyes widening. “What are you—” he started, his fingers twitching slightly, unsure what to do, before reluctantly relaxing. Slowly, Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and the scowl that so often resided on his face faded away. You felt his arm loosen, “Weirdo,” he muttered.

For the rest of the walk, you were quiet. Strangely.

He led you through the crowded school corridors, expertly weaving around the students and making a ruckus. Eventually, he spoke up. " Are you okay?" he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

“More than okay,” you sighed, a dreamy smile forming. “I’m in love.”

Jungwon scoffed. “Love? Seriously?” he retorted. “You fall too hard.”

Suddenly, a girl appeared out of nowhere, walking up to Jungwon and batting her eyelashes at him. “Hey, Jungwon,” she cooed, giving him a flirty smile. “You look so handsome today.”

Oh, the audacity.

You felt your grip on his arm tighten, and without thinking, you made a slight hissing noise under your breath. Like an actual cat. Because that’s totally normal behavior.

Jungwon looked at her blankly. "Uh, thanks," he said, shifting his weight to put some distance between her and himself. After a few moments of awkward silence, the girl caught the hint and excused herself, shooting you a dirty look before sauntering away.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Jungwon noticed and let out a long sigh. He reached over with his free hand, gently touching your arm. "Hey, hey, calm down, alright? I can practically see the green flames of envy raging in your eyes," he says with annoyance. "She means nothing. No one does."

He pauses, "Except you, I guess?" he mumbles under his breath, his voice so low you missed it.

☔️

You were hauling a heavy box of basketball equipment to the gym hours later when a sharp voice stopped you.

"You're an idiot to carry that much all at once. Hand it over before you collapse." Jungwon came out from the corner with a frown on his face. He eyed the box in your arms and rolled his eyes as he took it from you, holding it quickly. “This is what happens when you don’t ask for help.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you replied with a sheepish smile. “The team needed help—”

He shook his head. "There's helpful, and then there's being too nice. You've got to stop saying 'yes' to everyone. That was what? A 40-kilogram box of balls and equipment? Your back would’ve snapped in two by lunch."

Jungwon continued, "Besides, Do they not have arms? If you need help, ask me.”

You opened your mouth to protest but hesitated when you noticed his face, “I’m fine, really,” you reassured him.

"And that's the problem. 'I'm fine.' What happens when, one day, you're not? When you're tired or overwhelmed and still say 'I'm fine' while falling apart inside?" He scolded you, "It's okay to say 'no,' and it's okay to ask for help. Do you not understand? This isn’t a game, and you’re not invincible!"

He turned and walked away, his final words echoing down the hall.

"Don't wait for a mistake to learn."

You didn’t expect this from him.

☔️

For weeks, you did everything. You put in the effort that he rejects, but on rare occasions, he accepts it. Well, you force him to take it. After classes, you were sitting on the rooftop, watching the view. For once, you weren’t seeking Jungwon out; you were trying to gather your thoughts.

Were you tired of chasing someone who always seems to push you away? Absolutely.

Jungwon noticed you perched on the rooftop. He couldn't help but wonder, what's got her so down? He knew he was causing you heartache but he also knew that with every rejection, you came back with more effort. He wanted you to see him as what he truly was. A jerk. Someone not worthy of your devotion... but you never seemed to give up, that determination was something else.

He wondered if he may have gone too far…

“Hey.”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, walking closer. “You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

You looked away, fidgeting with your hands. “I… I don’t think I should bother you anymore.”

Jungwon froze. “What are you talking about? Bother me? You’re not…” He trailed off, then sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I’m an ass. I push people away and make it seem like I don’t want anyone’s company. But you… you never left, even when I wanted you to.” He sat down next to you, keeping a comfortable distance.

“I mean… you’re always annoyed with me. I just figured…” You trailed off, biting your lip.

“Stop saying that,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than usual.

“You think I enjoy acting like a jerk to everyone?“ He let out a humorless laugh, his eyes focusing on the horizon. ”The truth is, I am afraid to open up, to let people in because I know how easily they can break me.” He glanced at you briefly before averting his eyes again. “I’ve seen it happen to my parents and my friends. I don’t want to be another sad soul wandering the world broken.”

You hesitated before whispering, ‘’I’m sorry…’’

“Don’t apologize. Hell, I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in pushing you away that I didn’t even realize how much you were trying to get closer to me. I don’t deserve your attention, let alone your kindness.”

He continued, “You’re not… You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met, sure. But if you stopped being around…” He trailed off, looking away as his cheeks turned red. “I’d probably hate it.”

“Jungwon…”

“What? It’s true. I don’t know when or how it happened… but my day feels..lacking if you’re not there.” He shrugged as though admitting that wasn’t a big deal. “So…don’t you dare think about stopping.” He added sternly. “I like you, alright?”

“Thank you…for liking me back’’ you said shyly.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “Don’t get all mushy on me. You make it sound like I’d run into a burning building for you. I like you, but it’s not like I would get matching tattoos or serenade you under your window.”

“But will you?’’

He scoffed. “Really? Of all the things I’ve said, that’s what you focus on?” He shook his head, then looked directly into your eyes. “Fine. Yes, I'd run into a burning building for you. I’ll do anything for you. Happy now?’’

“Very.’’ You giggled, ‘’Come on, walk me home, boyfriend.’’

“Boyfriend?”

He raised an eyebrow at your quick upgrade in the relationship. “You're lucky I like you cause anyone else suggesting that might've been laughed out of the school." He stood up, dusting off his pants and offering you a hand. "Well, come on, girlfriend.“

☔️

Days later…

You sat across from Jungwon at the small restaurant table, your heart doing little flips every time he glanced your way, even though his usual unimpressed expression hadn’t faltered since you arrived. The date wasn’t even bad—just, well, awkward. But awkward in a way that had you wanting to laugh every five seconds because of how seriously Jungwon took things.

Like now.

He's been staring at his menu for ten minutes. It's three pages long, and each item has a picture next to it. How complicated can it be?

"What's taking you so long?" you say, resting your chin in your hand.

"Shut up." He replies, never taking his eyes off the menu. “Do you want water?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed.

“Uh, sure?” you said, smiling awkwardly.

He waved the waiter over and ordered two glasses of water. After all this careful deliberation, he's just ordering water?

He barely looked at you as he added, “Bring her water. Lemon water.”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, which Jungwon noticed.

Jungwon blinked at you, tilting his head slightly. “What? You don’t like lemon?”

He looked a bit hurt at the rejection of his thoughtfulness. This was the same guy who'd throw paper planes at the teacher but couldn’t handle not knowing if you liked lemon in your water? You were so endeared that it took every ounce of self-control not to squeal.

“Oh, no, you’re adorable today,” you assured him, finally letting out a soft laugh.

“Cool,” he managed, cheeks turning pink as he looked down at the table.

“No, I mean—it’s just water,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ll live either way.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just let me handle it.”

The corner of your lips quirked up. Why is he so serious about water?

The date went on, and the conversation flowed a little more naturally (after you decided to do most of the talking). Jungwon, though, still had his moments. “So, how much do you like me?” you teased halfway through your meal, grinning at him over the rim of your glass.

He choked on his drink.

He coughed, hitting his chest slightly as he cleared his throat. You didn’t think the question warranted that kind of reaction. But then again, you talked to the boy who spent ten minutes deciding whether he should get fries. “W-what kind of question is that?” he asked once he regained composure

You leaned in a little, resting your chin on your palm. “I’m just curious. Am I your type?”

He met your gaze, his eyes softening slightly. It was the first time all evening he'd looked directly at you without an expression of mild annoyance.

“What, you think I’m here for the ambiance?” he replied, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You’re… not that bad a company when you’re not talking about nothing.”

It is a backhanded compliment, but from Jungwon, it might as well be a love confession.

“So,” you continued. “How much do you think I like you?”

Jungwon avoided your gaze, shoving a piece of meat into his mouth to avoid answering. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, cheeks puffed slightly as he chewed. He ran a hand through his hair, looking quite flustered. His eyes darted around, possibly seeking an escape route. No dice, he’s sitting opposite you in a relatively small restaurant.

He asked again, “What kind of question even is that?”

“A valid one,” you teased, grinning. “But you’ll have to pay me if you want the answer.”

He frowned, confused. “Pay you?”

“Yeah, like—give me, I don’t know... probably 500,000 won, and I’ll tell you all my secrets.” You held up your hands dramatically.

“You said 500,000 won, didn’t you?” he said, pulling out the exact amount and sliding it across the table with an entirely serious expression. “Here. Talk.”

He stared at you expectantly, looking like he expected you to take the money and answer. It was a ridiculous situation. Here you were, in a normal restaurant on a Friday night, with your new boyfriend, who had just put 500,000 won on the table, waiting to know how much you liked him.

It took every ounce of will in your body not to laugh. Oh, he’s so cute…

Your jaw dropped. “Jungwon, I was joking!”

He froze, the faintest flush creeping up his cheeks. “What?”

You could see the cogs turning in his head as if he was contemplating what to do with you now. The situation was getting more absurd, and you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. It was probably rude to laugh in his face when he just tried to pay you for the information he thinks is valuable.

Still, you laughed.

“I didn’t actually mean it!” you laughed, pushing the money back toward him. “I wouldn’t charge you to know something like that.”

He looked down at the table, “Yeah, well, you started it,” he muttered, returning the money. After a few seconds, he slid a 50,000 won bill across the table, looking slightly embarrassed. “Fine. But this will do?”

He looked up at you, his gaze uncertain. You smiled, tucking this little tidbit of information away for later. The Jungwon is willing to pay you to know you like him. What a night.

“Jungwon, you don’t have to pay me.’’

“Look,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “Just..” He huffed, rubbing a hand across his face. “Just take the damn money, okay? It’s not like I’m breaking the bank here.”

He nudged the money towards you again, his eyes holding a silent plea. Clearly, he didn’t know how else to go about the situation, resorting to his only known means of communication: his wallet.

“Uh…okay?” You accepted it with amusement.

He smiled, nodding in relief. “Good. Now what…what were you saying before?” He asked, trying to hide his embarrassed flush with a cough. “About how much you like me,” he mumbled, his words barely audible.

“You know, you’re too serious,” you teased, poking at his hand lightly. “But I still like you anyway.”

Jungwon looked away, but a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Hmph,” he finally said, flicking a sugar packet towards you. “You’re not so bad yourself. In small doses.”

☔️

The date continued similarly. You’d offer to split the bill, but he’d insist on paying. You’d reach for the menu, but he’d swat your hand away, insisting on ordering for you instead.

He was trying hard, and you couldn’t help but adore him even more despite the awkwardness.

Just as you finished teasing Jungwon, music began to play in the restaurant. The lively beat echoed through the room as the servers clapped their hands and started encouraging diners to join them in the center of the floor to dance. You perked up immediately. “Oh my gosh, Jungwon! They’re dancing!”

He glanced at the crowd gathering in the middle of the restaurant and frowned. “Yeah, I can see that. What about it?”

“Let’s go!” you squealed.

His brows shot up. “What? No way.”

“Come on!” You were already out of your seat, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. He barely had time to protest as you dragged him toward the impromptu dance floor.

“I don’t dance,” he muttered, resisting slightly, but you didn’t let go.

“Well, you’re about to learn!” you declared with a grin, already swaying to the music as you pulled him into the crowd.

Jungwon looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, but he sighed in defeat as you started twirling. He awkwardly moved his arms, shuffling his feet in time with yours. “This is embarrassing,” he grumbled, his face heating up.

“You’re doing great!” you cheered, beaming at him as you twirled again, laughing. “Come on, loosen up a little!”

“Loosen up?” he echoed incredulously. “I’m not a dancer!”

“You don’t have to be! Just have fun!” You reached for his hands, placing them on your waist as you guided his movements. “See? Not so bad!”

Jungwon muttered something under his breath, but his steps started to match yours. He tried to keep a scowl on his face, but the way you were laughing so freely made it impossible for him to stay annoyed.

“You’re smiling!” you teased,

“I’m not,” he argued, though the pink tint on his cheeks betrayed him.

“You are! Oh, Jungwon, you’re having fun!”

“I’m not having fun,” he deadpanned; his hands didn’t leave your waist as you swayed together.

“You’re lying,” you sang, twirling yourself and accidentally stepping on his foot.

“Ow—okay, now I’m definitely not having fun!” he groaned, wincing.

You gasped. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. But when you smiled sheepishly up at him, his chest felt lighter despite himself.

As the song ended and the crowd cheered, you clapped your hands excitedly. “That was so much fun!”

He sighed, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but the faint smile never left his face as you pulled him back to your seats.

☔️

The evening had been fantastic, but it was time to say goodbye. The cool night air surrounded you as you reached your front door. Jungwon walked you home, although he hardly admitted that he liked it. Every second of it.

“Alright,” he said, avoiding your eyes as you stood by your door. “You should lock the door when you get inside. And… don’t forget to check the windows too. It’s late, and you never know.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how concerned he sounded, even though he tried so hard to hide it. “Got it, Jungwon. Thanks,” you said, already knowing how sweet he was, even if he’d never admit it.

He shuffled on his feet, clearly not ready to leave just yet. “I’ll… I’ll call you when I get home, okay? Just in case. And make sure you don’t open the door for anyone unless you’re sure it’s them. You’re… you’re too nice, okay? People could take advantage.” You could hear a slight shake in his voice as he talked on. “And, uh… make sure you stay safe, alright?” He finally looked at you with worry.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how adorable he was being. You stepped a little closer to him, surprising him with a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be fine, Jungwon,” you said softly. “And thank you. For everything.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he immediately turned his head away, muttering something that sounded like, “I-I wasn’t doing this for you to kiss me, okay?” But his voice was quieter now, a little softer than usual.

You laughed, enjoying the moment, but before he could say anything else, you stepped back and smiled at him. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

He nodded quickly, still blushing furiously. “Yeah, I will. You—don’t—don’t worry about me!” he stammered, turning on his heel to leave. But just as he was about to walk away, he stopped and turned back toward you, his face hidden in his hands.

“I-I love you, alright?!” he shouted, his voice cracking. He quickly turned away, clearly embarrassed, and started walking briskly down the street.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, a broad smile slowly spreading. That was all he needed to say, and you knew exactly how much he cared. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, feeling your heart flutter as you watched him walk off.

“Love you too, Jungwon,” you whispered to the night air, knowing he wouldn’t hear. But somehow, it felt like the most perfect moment.

[Extra Scene]

Months later…

Jungwon lay on his bed with his phone resting on a pillow. He looked at you through the screen.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

You scoffed as you shifted under your covers. “We saw each other three hours ago.”

He hummed. “That’s three hours too long.”

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked while squinting at him through the screen.

He glanced at you and smirked. “What, I can’t smile?”

“Not like that,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you’re up to something.”

Jungwon sighed dramatically as he turned onto his side. “Can’t a guy just admire his girlfriend?”

You scoffed. “You’re so full of it.”

“I’m serious,” he said, resting his chin on his hand. “You look cute today.”

You blinked. “…It’s a video call. You can barely see me properly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied smoothly. “You’re always cute.”

His door suddenly creaked open before you could even think of a response.

“Mom! He’s at it again!”

Jungwon’s head snapped toward the door, his face instantly turning sour. His older sister stood there, arms crossed, and seemed to be entertained at her brother, who was way out of character.

You burst into laughter.

Jungwon groaned. “Can you not?”

“Oh, wait—” She smirked, peeking at the screen. “Hi! Are you the poor soul who has to listen to his crap every day?”

You bit your lip, trying so hard not to laugh. “Hi…”

“Oh my God.” Jungwon groaned, grabbing the nearest pillow and chucking it toward the door. “OUT!”

His sister dodged effortlessly. “Okay, okay, lover boy! calm down.” She wiggled her fingers at you. “Bye, future sister-in-law!”

“Just saying! You’re embarrassing,” she said to Jungwon while backing out of the room.

‘’GET OUT!’’

The door shut, leaving Jungwon lying there, face buried in his pillow.

You were still giggling. “Lover boy?”

He exhaled sharply as he peeked through the screen. “We’re never talking about this again.”

You grinned. “Sure, lover boy.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…No, I’m not,” he admitted and groaned.

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spread-the-influence · 2 days ago

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I know its never gonna happen ever not ever, and that you only got the ragatha brainworms, but its been stuck in my brain since the jax murder.

if ragatha hadn’t been virus’ed, yet somehow still got to the point where jax says “to have a friend” (unlikely), would jax have actually opened up, or just shuttered himself as soon as the concept of being open sets back in? Could he have improved had he not been ganked?

forgive me for the essay below . ragatha may be rotting my brain but i still have elaborate thoughts on the other characters , even if i don't go to the levels of insanity i go for ragatha .

jax , to me , is a deeply lonely and miserable person , and i will say here that the line was kind of more ' a person that'll see and understand me ' . my interpretation of jax is not as charitable as most interpretations of him i've seen , though — he's not a jerk with a heart of gold or is secretly protecting everybody . he's just someone with a very destructive coping mechanism that harms everybody and himself .

he doesn't really see the cast as People , he sees them as Characters . a Cast in the big theater stage that is the circus . he prefers to do what's not boring by going off-script . this means making a mess out of the stage set , bothering the characters , and doing what he's Not supposed to do . it's entertaining ! it distracts him from how ... he's stuck in this stage forever . if he goes with the script , that fact would weigh on him . it's better that he does Not think about that . everyone would be surprised by how quickly that would make him lose his mind .

but it isn't fulfilling . it's a Distraction , an Avoidance . it's something that he does to Not confront his issues . my interpretation of jax at least puts up an emotional wall not Just because he doesn't want people to see his vulnerable side ( i like to think that the one thing he hates is being Wronged , and there's a certain level of suspicion that someone in the cast would do it if he lowers his guard ) but because he thinks there's No reason to put it down .

jax , like a lot of people , craves a community . he wants to be Wanted and Loved . but it's hard for him to get both of those things when these people are just ... Not real to him . what he wants most is That realness . he wants to know that in this big stage he's stuck in , there's someone else who is just as lost as him . someone that also isn't playing by the script . someone that's not a Character .

... and ragatha really doesn't fit those , as much as i'd hate to admit it . she is a Character . she plays the role of the optimistic and caring ragdoll . she is Far from fitting the image of a real person in jax's eyes . that conversation would naturally end in jax realizing he's opening up and shutting himself off — most likely Even more than he already does . basically he wouldn't improve ... with ragatha .

if there's someone that might fit the above paragraph , it's either pomni or zooble . i feel like these two would have better chances of making jax slowly open up with that kind of conversation , since they're both the most grounded and Real people in the circus .

i do not think that it would make jax instantly accept into the community of the circus — years of bad habits are Not easy to drop — but it'll be like a hand being extended to him . he sees that there's a world beyond the stage , and he takes it . and that's a lot more fulfilling than distracting himself .

lord i feel like this post is a contender enough to warrant a second ESSAY WARNING tag but yeah , jaxxle thoughts ! he's not in my top three favorites ( those respectively go to caine and zooble ) but i still find him interesting to think about .

#>>MISC;

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crowley-winter-boots · 13 hours ago

Text

I would like to add my own take to some of these/further expand on what you have written.

Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls:

I've literally walked out of stores in the mall with unpayed items. Check for the chunky plastic white tags on it, or a silver sticker with a black dot: these will set off alarms when you leave the door and they are very difficult, if not impossible to take off without getting caught by employees. Supermarkets are more iffy, I've never stolen anything from one, but they have more cameras there. Small stores in malls typically don't, at least not any I can see, which I'm fairly certain it is illegal for stores to have hidden cameras. Wear baggy hoodies, you can slip something in your sleeve quickly. Basketball shorts, parachute pants, other bottoms with large pockets are great for slipping something in unnoticed. Also, DO NOT dwell on something too hard. It will make it more likely to get caught- act natural. A lot of people go into the mall just to browse, so it's perfectly normal to walk out without having bought a single thing.

Put stickers everywhere:

It is incredibly easy to make your own stickers. It is better if you have some artistic ability so you're able to format the sticker sheets properly, but it's fine if you don't have those skills. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, you'll have to rotate the images in weird angles and look for patterns of where one nook fits into one cranny. Repeating patterns are good, too. You just need sticker paper, a printer, and an app that you can import photos into and create the sticker sheets: I personally use Procreate, but that's because I use it for artwork and it was the easiest option on hand for me, personally. Ibis Paint X is free, a bit difficult to import photos in my opinion, but it works. I'm sure Word could work as well, though not as well. The less white space, the better, but make sure to leave enough room between each sticker as to have even borders all around. A common mistake I made when I first started making stickers was that I would accidentally overlap some stickers or make them touching.

Learn how to sew:

Here is a punk fashion tip: USE DENTAL FLOSS. I know, it sounds weird, but it's a great option. Cheaper than thread, you can buy it in bigger quantities, it lasts longer, it's sturdier, and overall just a really good option.

Furthermore, since I mentioned a punk fashion tip, I want to add my own way to protest here, as well as other DIY things you can do.

Battle vests/jackets are excellent. I'm making one, as well as my own patches to add to it. DO NOT put political statements or LGBT-oriented things on the back: this can, and will, put you in danger. Not only will you not see someone coming at you, but if someone sees it from the front, they are less likely to actually harm you since you can see them coming. There are some other punk DIY clothing you can make, including crust pants and just homemade patches to add onto something else. You also don't have to fit the "punk aesthetic" to be a punk: it's an ideology.

Some more punk fashion tips: You CAN paint on clothes and fabrics. Just add equal parts fabric softener to equal parts acrylic paints. This will prevent the paint from getting crunchy, make it last longer, prevent it from chipping, allow it to stretch with the fabric, and make it machine washable. You can also make homemade pins: acrylic paint, bottle caps, soda tabs, safety pins, modge podge, and a lot of hot glue. Put the safety pin through the soda tab, and glue the soda tab down with hot glue. Drown that shit in it- may seem unnecessary, but hot glue is stubborn with metal and does not want to stick. Do this BEFORE YOU PAINT, I made the mistake and everything peeled off because it warmed up and stuck to my table. When you're done painting, seal it with Modge Podge: it's a type of glue-like substance that seals paint, makes it shiny, prevents it from chipping and peeling, and makes it last longer.

Engage in art

Art does NOT have to be good. Art is about having fun and expressing yourself. It takes YEARS to become good at it, but even then there is always room to improve. Don't downplay your own efforts because someone else has skills you don't yet have. Get creative. Bring out those cheap art supplies extended family bought you on a whim when you were in grade school. Cut things up and glue them where they don't belong. Spill coffee on it, crumple the paper, and destroy it before using it as your canvas.

Be loud and obnoxious

This is one I'm adding in here myself. The right wants to claim queer people are shoving their agenda down their throats, but then wave MAGA flags and ask for heterosexual pride month? Wave those flags of yours, wear way too many (stolen, or DIY ofc) pins of pride flags and pronouns. Wear pride flags like capes. Dye your hair crazy colours, put on crazy makeup just to go out to the store. Being visible not only pisses off people that don't want to see us, but it also helps other people feel seen and safer. THIS CAN BE DANGEROUS. Like I said with the battle vests, YOU CAN GET ATTACKED.

I've been wearing my transgender pride flag to school. Pride flags are banned from being hung up, but nothing in the dress code prohibits it. This weekend, I will paint "WE THE PEOPLE" on the back of it. Teachers have pulled me aside only on the second day of wearing it, asking why. I've been called an "it" (doesn't misgender me anyway, I use it/its so jokes on them), someone (pitifully) attempted to throw food at me, people have been shouting "what the fuck" and "is that a trans flag?" in the halls, people have been sideyeing and staring at me. There have been good reactions too, of course, but I'm sharing my bad reactions to further imply doing this can be dangerous. I live in central Texas, for reference.

The negative reactions, since they have not directly harmed me, I choose to find funny. I laugh it off. I want people to see that being trans isn't something that can't be erased from existence. I want them to see people like me are not going anywhere.

Survive and be safe

Another personal addition- but DO NOT give up. I know that things are bad, and that things will get worse. But living is one of the things you can do to stick it to them. Listen to "Famous Last Words - My Chemical Romance", that song can probably explain this as well. Do not stop fighting, and do not stop living. Be safe, don't put yourself in unnecessary danger in this fight, because it's going to be a big one. Make sure your mental health is good, and if it's not do what you can to improve on it. Don't let the government tell you that you don't have a place here; because you do. Fuck the government. Queer people have existed since before the Ancient Greeks, it's visible in nature all around. Lions and hens have been known for transitioning to male without actually having the male reproductive systems. Penguins and walruses have been known for homosexual relationships. America is built upon immigrants- the original Americans ARE immigrants because they came from Europe to colonize these lands. America wouldn't exist without immigrants.

I hope the expansion on what Kurohe had written is alright/helps out! Be safe out there and be yourself. Don't water yourselves down for the sake of people who don't want to see you thrive.

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(i am continually correcting things when people point out mistakes. Thanks everyone for your help)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step

Also, resign your amazon prime subscription.

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: this used to also say airports, but i've been told it's way too high risk as it's considered a federal crime. Thanks for letting me know)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. If you can't, buy a gun. (Remember Alabama has a 99% acceptation rate, you can get one in 10 minutes.) I hate firearms, but the enemy will have them too. Arm yourself.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

1K notes · View notes

runninriot · 15 hours ago

Text

The End Of Maybe

written for the @steddiebingo card prompt: proposal & @steddielovemonth day 1

rated: T | wc: 1.223 | tags: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, self-doubt, declarations of love, marriage proposal | also on ao3

“Do you ever regret it?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes locked on the ceiling while his fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the skin of Steve’s back.

“Regret what?”

Steve’s head is resting on Eddie’s chest, basking in the comfort of their shared body heat, still on his come down from an overdose of love-infused ecstasy. Enjoying his boyfriend’s closeness while his mind is happily drifting. Was drifting, until now. Now he’s alert, can sense the shift in Eddie’s mood, the gloomy aura suddenly surrounding him.

Eddie still hasn’t turned his gaze away from where it is fixed on nothing but white paint, stays unmoving even when Steve lifts his head to look at him.

“Baby? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

For how talkative Eddie usually is, Steve has long since learned that his boyfriend can be eerily quiet when something is eating away at him. When he’s trying to come up with solutions on his own instead of sharing the burden. Over time, they’ve found a way to meet in the middle – with Steve giving Eddie the space and time he needs to sort through his thoughts and Eddie keeping his promise not to shut Steve out, to share what’s gnawing at him eventually.

“I mean,” Eddie starts, finally looking down to find Steve’s eyes, shifting so that they’re lying side by side, face to face. Still close despite the emotional distance Steve can feel like a physical wall between them.

“Do you sometimes regret choosing this over- something else?”

He’s being vague on purpose, not even trying to elaborate what he means and Steve knows why, understands what he’s saying either way. They had this conversation before, once, and ended up in a big fight, maybe their biggest one yet. Because at the time, it had felt like Eddie was trying to push him away, trying to talk him into something he didn’t want out of unfounded fear of Steve changing his mind one day. Having a hard time believing that he chose this life, not despite but because of what it would mean for his future.

For Steve, this has never been temporary; he’s always been all in. Wants to spend the rest of his days with Eddie, through the good and the bad and everything.

“Never,” Steve finally says, keeping his voice soft but making sure the message is clear, “I want this and nothing else. I love our life with everything we have. I love you. You know that, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve leans in for a kiss, a firm press of lips to emphasise his words.

He knows it’s just a little bump in the road, just Eddie being in his head – it happens every now and then, it’s okay, nothing to really worry about. But still, Steve hates to see Eddie sad.

“I know you do, I just- I don’t know.”

Eddie sighs, buys himself time by stealing another tender kiss from his boyfriend, and Steve lets him get away with it.

“Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I do or say something that made you think I’ve changed my mind?”

“No! No, you did nothing, I- I guess I’m just scared.”

With one hand, Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face, thumb gently stroking over his cheekbone, not saying anything but patiently waiting for him to go on.

“I know you love me, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just sometimes wonder if it’s truly worth giving up so many of your dreams for this. For me.”

Steve knows what Eddie is referring to, even without him having to spell it out. It is true, there had been a time where Steve’s biggest dream was to have a wife and kids, a whole bunch of them, living a quiet small-town life with his picture-perfect family.

But that was before Eddie came along. Before he fell heart over head in love with a wonderful young man, with the prettiest smile and dark brown eyes that make him weak, still, after all those years. Sure, he’d be lying if he said he never asked himself that same question, wondering if being with Eddie was worth facing all the battles they had to fight. If loving Eddie was worth letting go of the future he’d always thought he wanted for himself.

But the answer is still the same as it has been for over 6 years now – yes. A thousand times yes. Because the truth is, he didn’t give up a dream, he created a new one. With Eddie at the centre of everything, he’s built a life that is better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Nothing compares to being loved by Eddie, and nothing could ever make this relationship any more perfect. Except maybe…

He shoots up so sudden it startles Eddie, who reluctantly obeys when Steve beckons him to sit.

“What-”

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, presses the tip of his finger against Eddie’s lips to shut him up – not to be rude; he just needs him to listen to what he has to say before he loses his courage.

“You’re it for me, okay? You are everything I need to be happy and I- I want to grow old with you, want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are all I want, now and forever.”

Steve swallows roughly, has to take a few deep breaths, can already feel the burning of tears in his eyes.

Robin will lose her mind. Will probably also give him a lot of shit for doing it like this, here, in the isolated cocoon of their bedroom rather than making it the big, pompous surprise they always joked about in secret. When they talked about the hypothetical maybe of Steve proposing one day.

Truth is, Steve has been thinking about it a lot in the past, about asking Eddie to take this next big step with him. Not for the sake of making at least one of his younger self’s dreams a reality, but because he wants to be Eddie’s in every way possible. Is more than willing to give up a name that means nothing to him for one that means love and trust and family.

“Eddie, baby, will you marry me?”

He waits for the words to sink in, anxiously watching Eddie go through all the stages of understanding what Steve is asking him.

“Are you-” Realisation.

“Do you really-” Disbelief.

“You want to-” Reassurance.

“Oh my God, yes! YES!” Eddie finally answers with a trembling voice and eyes full of tears.

They’re both shedding tears of joy now, arms wrapped around each other, kissing, and smiling and kissing some more until just kissing is no longer enough. When the need to be closer overcomes them and whispered declarations of love and devotion turn into something a lot more obscene. When their bodies demand to become one in heated passion, euphoric and wild and sweet.

And when they come undone for the second time this night, it feels different in a way, new. Because it’s their first time as soon-to-be husbands. Falling apart together, with all their love carved into a promise to mark the end of maybe and the beginning of forever – no after – just them ‘til the end.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #steddiebingo2025 #steddielovemonth #prompt: proposal

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damn-stark · 2 days ago

Note

Junho and reader break in the squid game island? Both are cops or something plsss😭❤️

Chapter 1 Together, we can take it to the end of the line

Chapter 1 of Sinnerwoman

Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

A/N- I hope you all like it :)

Warning- ANGST!! FLUFF!! Weapons, blood, and talks of death! Spoilers for the show!

Pairing- Hwang Jun-ho x fem!reader

Episode- 2x05 - 2x08

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

——

Day 1:

You- Jun-ho, where are you?

No response to the text you sent and two phone calls were declined.

Day 2:

You- Are you okay? Let me know or tell me if you don’t want to talk…

Yet again, no response to the morning text. When you get to work you expect him to be there, but he doesn’t come. Not for lunch and not toward the end of the shift.

“Detective!” Someone tries to catch your attention and you have half the mind to pretend you don’t hear and leave for the day since you assume what’s coming, but it would be disrespectful and would only worsen the matter.

“Chief,” you redirect nonchalantly and turn on your heels to see him walk up to you and search around you before his gaze finds yours.

“Where’s Hwang?” He asks the dreaded question, making you stiffen and internally groan before you respond dryly.

“I don’t know, Sir.”

The man’s eyebrows immediately furrow before he quips. “What do you mean you don’t know? He’s your boyfriend, you’re supposed to know.”

You fist your hands and shrug stiffly before you retort in the same nonchalance. “Well, I don’t know. Sorry.”

The captain looks at you up and down with a hint of judgment and amusement and you can imagine—no you know he must think Jun-ho must be doing something malicious behind your back and you’re oblivious, but he doesn’t know Jun-ho like you do, he wouldn’t cheat on you…right?

He wouldn’t keep secrets, would he?

Then again do you even have the right to be upset even if he does have secrets considering the ones you keep from him?

The answer to that is an immediate no, but finding out he's seeing someone else behind your back is different, and…he…wouldn’t do that, would he?

You return home and text him again.

You- At least let me know if you’re not going to work.

Jun-ho is usually a quick texter, he never leaves you on received for too long when he’s out of work, and if he is busy doing something else he lets you know, but this time he hasn’t. He doesn’t call nor does he pick up when you try to call him once before bed, so rather than falling asleep and hoping to get an answer from him in the morning, you’re left on your bed staring at the ceiling and overthinking.

Every thought is worse than the other and with every bad thought you crack more and more until you can’t take it a moment longer and finally break. You do the one thing you said you wouldn’t do and…check his location. That’s when you find out that he’s not even close to the city or abroad just like you imagined, he’s on an Island…

Shit.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

The Island was much harder to navigate to than you thought, but finally, after sailing for far longer than you’re comfortable with on nothing but the endless sea and its creepy deep, and dark waters, you make it to the Island. However, instead of driving right through the entrance and boldly announcing your presence, you sail to a more obscure part of the Island.

Did you count on having so many rocks surrounding the Island? No, but you do find an opening that seems to fit your boat.

Yet rather than sailing right through, you stop the motor right by the opening and intend to dive in the water to swim through the opening to avoid having someone hear your boat, but when you walk to the edge of the boat and look at the water, you remember how deep and vast it is.

There’s a possibility that you could just sink, and if you sink, you drown and die. The sea is so vast. It’s so terrifying. How are people not scared of it? You were so focused on getting to the Island that you were able to not think about your fear of the sea, but now you’re stopped in place, looking through the surface, seeing the dark depths of the open water, and feel like starting the motor and sailing all the way back to the mainland where you’ll be safe, but…Jun-ho is here and he doesn’t answer your texts or your calls. If he’s not dead yet, he might need your help, so you draw out a few deep breaths and take a moment to convince yourself to push your fear aside before you dive into the water.

When you’re in the water you start to breathe heavily and feel your heart race, but you shove that fear to the depths of your mind for now and start swimming so the worst doesn’t happen. However, the opening leads to a long corridor dimly lit by lamps on the walls, so the shadows turn to menacing threats that threaten to trap you and drag you down the depths of the sea.

That is until you finally find firm ground on a dock occupied by other small boats. “Finally,” you say between pants as you climb on a far corner of the dock, and then sit on your knees to drop your head in your hands and catch your breath so you can calm your racing heart and be wary of what you have to do in this place. You’d be no use to yourself or Jun-ho if you’re still shaken up by the dark waters.

After you manage to collect yourself, you only prioritize one goal. You don’t think about the fact that you’ll have to retrace your steps over the water and sail back to the mainland. You make Jun-ho your priority and become intensely determined.

However, if only finding Jun-ho could be as simple as walking through a door and finding him. You have your phone and you could still track his phone, but when you take your phone out of the plastic bag you kept it safe in, you fail to get service which results in you not being able to track Jun-ho anymore. And it’s not like you have wi-fi either so you’re left with no choice but to be careful and search this vast place as if with your eyes closed.

Thankfully, you don’t run into anyone when you exit the docks, you’re just greeted by yet another long hall lit by more lamps strung up on the stone walls. Spread down the hall there’s different turns that lead elsewhere, potential places that could lead to Jun-ho. Which one do you take?

Shit. Shit. Shit…

You look at all your options and debate for a while. When you make a strategic choice you take a step forward, but, at that moment, the sound of a gunshot echoes, and you know it would be a crazy risk checking if it’s who you’re looking for, but if you don’t risk it and check, then you could possibly lose the chance of finding him and you’d be left searching and searching for someone who might not be on the Island on anymore, besides, you’ll just take a quick peek. That won’t hurt…hopefully…then again even if it did hurt, it would be worth it for him. Thus, you quickly navigate through the labyrinth that is this cave until you reach a door you assume leads to where the gunshot came from.

After you make sure no one else is approaching, you then make sure not to be loud when you open the door, nor do you throw it open. You open the door just wide enough so you can peek out through a gap with one eye.

Alas, you’re met with a grey stone wall, so you push the door open just wide enough so you sneak through. When you make it to the end of the wall, you press yourself against the stone and peek out, that’s when you find him, the man you’re looking for in a pink jumpsuit, standing over a gap of illuminated water. No one else seems to be around him, so you slowly walk out.

Jun-ho doesn’t notice you right away so you call out to him. “Jun-ho.”

Said man spins around swiftly and the first thing he does is point the gun at you.

You don’t move in response or say anything. You stay where you are and let him see you. You let him figure out on his own that yes, it is you. You’re intertwined in the shadows of the cave. You’re not a trick his mind played on him, it’s you in the flesh looking at him like he’s salvation itself.

“Jun-ho,” you muse and he responds by muttering your name before he takes a few steps forward and stops.

You stay under the shadows of the room and study him carefully to make sure he’s unharmed, to reassure yourself that he’s there, before your very eyes, and breathing.

He's alive, and you’re relieved, but how long will he remain yours if you stay here?

Thus you bring an end to the moment and stride over to him to grab his wrist right away. “Come on, we have to go. I saw armed pink people guarding an entrance. We have to leave before we’re caught.”

He remains silent, but he doesn’t budge, he lets his wrist slip from your grasp, making you turn swiftly to look at him with panic. “Jun-ho, we have to leave.”

Said man blinks as he gathers his thoughts before he finally interjects with something other than your name. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

You walk back to him. “My phone,” you breathe out and hold his gaze, noticing how intensely he studies you with concern and confusion—“I tracked your phone here after you disappeared. I thought you were,” you pause and drop your head to let out a deep breath before you share the worries that plagued your mind when he was gone. “…With someone else so I checked your location.”

He scoffs and you look back at him.

“That’s when I saw you were here and—”

“And you came to catch me?” He continues for you with amusement breaking through his conflict and playing on his lips. “That’s…very much like you. I wouldn’t have gotten away with it even if I did try.”

You scoff now and he drops his head to let out a chuckle before he faces you with a serious face. “But I wouldn’t have done it. You know that.”

You avert your gaze out of shame and shrug. “Well I was being ignored so I thought the worst, but now aren’t you glad I’m here? Whatever this place is?” You quip and glance at the body floating in bloody water before meeting his dark eyes and returning to your panicked state.“Now we have to leave. I have a boat just outside. We have to swim to it, but we’ll make it.”

You grab his hand, but once again he refuses to move.

“No. I can’t. I have to find my brother and this place has the answers,” he explains, making you look at him with disbelief.

“Your brother?” You probe, making him nod.

“That’s not all, this place is manipulating people by dangling money in front of their faces only to kill them in different games.”

Your lips part and you gasp in horror at his revelation.

“I have to get evidence to stop it as well as find my brother…or…at least what may have happened to him because…I think he’s here or…he was. I’m not sure but I have to know.”

You shake your head. You know that he loves his brother and misses him dearly. He’s been searching for him and any answers as to what led him to disappear, but you can’t put your lives at risk for an answer. Not when you have a way out without getting killed.

“I’m sorry Jun-ho, but now that you told me what you know, we can’t put our lives at more risk!” You argue with panic. “We have to go.”

“And throw away the chance at finding my brother?” He snaps, making you blink repeatedly in disbelief before you counter with little patience.

“And didn’t you hear me? I saw armed guards. How long until they find us?! We have an opening and we have to take it.”

He steps back and shakes his head. “No, go if you want now that you know I’m okay, or stay and help me now that you’re here, but I’m not leaving. Not without answers.”

You challenge his gaze and nod stiffly in comprehension. “Is that how it’s going to be? After I risked my life coming after you?” You remark and he lifts his chin slightly in defense.

“I already told you what this all means to me. As grateful as I am that you came even if it was for your own jealous reasons, I won’t throw away my chances at finding answers.”

You let out a deep sigh and turn away to compose yourself before you lose all your patience.

“I know how hard this must have been with your fear of the sea,” he adds in a softer tone. “But you know what my brother means to me. And these people…it’s horrible. Everything about this place is horrible. I can’t leave without evidence to use to bring it down.”

You swallow thickly and then clench your jaw as you let out a deep breath through your nose.

“We might not have this chance to leave again,” you point out.

Jun-ho walks around you to face you with concern. “Don't stay if you don’t want to, go while you have the chance.”

You slowly meet his gaze with a look that softens the moment you meet his eyes. “And leave you all alone to get all the credit?” You murmur, making him scoff with a faint grin tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Plus I’m deep in it now. Whose going watch your back if not me?” You tease, making him finally laugh breathlessly before he looks into your eyes and drops his grin to step closer and cup your cheek with a smile filled with admiration.

“Thank you for coming after me even if you didn’t know what you were going to face,” he says softly.

You cup his hand and take your turn to look at him with awe that's also mixed with worry.

“Come, just above those ladders is a room that can give me the answers I’m looking for,” he shares and then steps away to point at the ladders at the far end of the room with his eyes.

Now you do hesitate while he leads the way, but you also can’t leave without him so you follow him to the ladders and climb them all the way to the top until you reach a hatch blocking your path.

“Do you have something to pick the lock?” He asks as he peers back at you.

“No,” you immediately let him down. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says and then reaches into his pocket to pull out a revolver—“it’s going to be loud. Be ready.”

You hum and watch him shoot the hatch to pop open the lock.

“What is it?” You ask since you can’t see what Jun-ho can as he slowly opens the hatch door.

“The hatch opens to a cabinet. We’re inside the leader's room. I don’t think anyone’s here,” he shares, but even if there was someone the gunshot would have been a dead give away and you would have been caught, so luckily there isn’t anyone nearby.

“Let me check first and then you can climb up,” he lets you know over his shoulder before he climbs up one step to push open the cabinet doors and then climb into the room.

Once he's inside he does as he says and checks the room first, when he knows the ghost is clear, you hear his footsteps return before he pops over, letting you see him again. “Come on.” He waves you over, letting you climb up the rest of the ladder to get into the bland and depressing room yourself.

“Did you bring a gun?” Jun-ho asks and you look at him like he’s told you a joke before you remark.

“What do you think? No. I thought you were here hooking up with someone else, why would I bring a gun?”

He huffs. “I was just asking. Stick behind me then. Don’t wander off.”

You roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t dare to.”

He points his head to a door that looks exactly the same as the other doors in the depressing room, only, this door leads to a small room with a desk and a simple full-size bed. Thankfully, you don’t run into anyone, but the moment that you do walk in the room a siren begins to wail which could mean a variety of things, but you fear it might be about you and Jun-ho.

“We need to hurry,” you warn him, but he doesn’t stop being careless to hurry. He checks every corner with his gun, when he’s assured that the room is clear he opens a different door and immediately points his gun at the hall just like you were trained to. When a threat doesn’t pop out to become an inconvenience, he walks inside and you follow after him into the dark and menacing hall that leads to yet another dark room. Yet this one, unlike the others, isn't dimly lit, it’s covered in darkness and stays that way until Jun-ho’s small flashlight illuminates what he's looking at.

“What exactly are you looking for?” You ask just above a whisper just in case anyone is nearby to hear you.

“Just anything that can lead to my brother, In-ho,” he says over his shoulder and then watches every step you take as you make your way to his side now.

“Did you bring your phone?” He asks as he comes to a stop and turns to point the flashlight on you.

“Yeah,” you grumble and shield your eyes before you look down to pull your phone out and use your flashlight. “That’s the only thing I can use down here though. I have no service,” you complain and lift your eyes, making him lower the flashlight from your eyes.

“Me neither, but we don't have to worry about that until later. For now, let’s hurry and look for an answer.”

You nod in comprehension and intend to walk down the room to begin searching the shelves at the end of the room and let him cover the entrance, but he lingers where he is to look at you with emotions you can’t identify. “What?” You probe with concern.

He blinks out of his stupor and lets out a deep breath before he mutters, “be careful.”

You snicker. “I’ll yell if I need help.”

The corner of his lips twitch up before he holds your gaze for a second longer and then lets you both break away to cover different parts of the room.

“There’s so many records,” you point out as you run your flashlight over multiple different book spines that are mostly all pretty thick.

“Let’s find…this year's first,” he says in response. “And then switch from there.”

You keep running your light over the books as you walk across the shelf until you spot a binder that’s labeled with this year. “Jun-ho,” you call out and pull out the thick binder.

Your boyfriend doesn’t hesitate for a second before he strides to where you are and looks at what you found.

“It’s a binder for this year,” you share before you crouch to put the binder down. Jun-ho mirrors you, letting you open the binder and come across a profile of a player they call 001, but since that’s not his brother he finds no interest in it so you flip from page to page, making sure to look at every name printed by each picture in the corner.

“Who are these people?” You ask and steal a glance at him with a narrowed gaze that holds the hints of a darkness within—“They have the people’s medical records,” you add, noting his impatience and worry and feeling your heart ache at that.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head.

You let the page go and look back, pointing your flashlight at the shelves behind you containing more stuff that could be useful. “I’ll check over here, you keep flipping through this.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just nods, letting you slip away to rummage through different shelves in hopes of finding something useful, but it’s all pointless. That is until a black box with a pink bow catches your eye.

It could be another pointless search, or it can hold an answer or a hint, so you pull the shelf out to grab the box and open it, finding a list of names next to different years.

Yet for the first few rows, all the names mean nothing until you reach the year 2015 and catch the name of Jun-ho’s brother, Hwang In-ho.

“Jun-ho!” You whisper shout and turn hastily to fall on your knees beside him and quickly hand him the list. When he sees what you point out his eyes widen and he then snaps his head up before he sloppily shoves himself to his feet and runs over to a shelf down the room.

You carefully follow him and catch him holding a binder of the year that his brother's name was listed next to. This time though he’s not so slow when he’s flipping through the pages, he takes a lot of pages to reach the number his brother was and there, as marked, is his brother's profile.

“In-ho,” he whispers and you study the page before you drift your eyes to watch Jun-ho instead.

“At least we know he won this…place,” you try to bring him some comfort. “We can leave now.”

Jun-ho looks through the gaps left between the shelf and the books and deadpans, “no,” before he leaves you there in that aisle and returns to where he left the list of names.

“What do you mean no?” You remark and peek out of the aisle, catching him pull out his phone. “You have your answers and we can probably still leave without getting caught.”

Jun-ho’s phone clicks and as you approach him from behind you see him take a picture of the list of players and then his brother's profile, but he doesn’t stop there, he darts around the room and grabs different folders and a couple of cassettes.

“What are you doing?” You query as you remain towering over him, basking his crouched figure in your shadow as he takes more pictures.

“We need more evidence,” he mutters as if it isn’t obvious. “I don’t have enough. After we get more we can leave.”

You scoff and turn your head away out of frustration, contemplating just forcing him out of here. It’d be a struggle but it would be worth it to get him out of here alive.

You also contemplate other choices, but ultimately you go along with what he wants because leaving him behind is not an option.

“Fine, but—” before you can finish talking suddenly a phone rings, cutting you off and making you freeze in place. Jun-ho on the other hand abandons what he was doing and slowly sneaks out of the room, leaving you no other choice but to follow him back to the main room and toward the land phone.

You know he wouldn’t be stupid enough to answer it, but it seems like he debates whether to do it or not as he just stares at the ringing phone. You almost have to ask if he would dare to do something so reckless, but then a ding breaks through the sound of the ringing phone, causing your heart to jolt before you snap your head from side to side to find a room to sneak into.

As it seems like you found your escape as if connected to your thoughts, Jun-ho rushes to you as quietly as possible to grab your hand and yank you with him to the same room you thought of escaping to. When you’re inside he does the unnecessary after he presses himself on the wall by the door; he proceeds to press you against his chest with his hand over your mouth. Then again, even with his gun in hand, you find comfort in the feeling of his heart racing against your back and his warm body pressed against you the most as the stressful moment unfolds.

“<Front Man speaking,” you hear a deep and obviously disguised voice answer the phone in English rather than Korean. “Yes. A minor disturbance has taken place. But it’s been addressed. No need to worry. We will make sure that no trace of it remains by the time the VIPs arrive>.”

Your heart skips a beat and you grip onto Jun-ho’s arm as you understand what the Front Man is saying.

“<Yes, sir,” the Front Man continues. “The game will begin on time, in line with the schedule>,” he finishes before you hear them hang up the phone and leave right away.

You expect him to come back, so you wait, but once you both know that there’s no one in the room anymore, Jun-ho lets you go and leads the way out, making sure that the ghost is really clear before he lets you follow him to the phone.

“Maybe we can finally reach the police with this phone,” you suggest, and a hopeful glint glimmers in his eyes.

“Yeah, good idea,” he praises you before he reaches over and grabs the phone to dial the number.

Yet…his effort is fruitless because he tries and gets no ring. He tries a different number but also gets nothing, ending with him sighing in defeat and returning the phone to its place.

“Damn,” you hiss and watch him with the same unaffected look that doesn’t carry any hint of true horror or deep concern. You are worried, but more so for his own safety, and the little fear you do hold is for the same reason. Anyone else would be horrified and constantly looking over their shoulder, but you don’t hold the weight of those emotions. You hold almost a knowing look as if this place is not actually strange. A darkness.

“We should, uh, go back to the record room to put the things back and then see where to go from there,” you share your idea as you raise your hand to cup his shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze before you return to the record room.

“You understood what the Front Man said right?” He asks once you're both in the record room since he knows you’re fluent in English too.

“Yeah, did you?”

He hums. “We have to stay until the VIPs arrive,” he shares the inevitable plan you already expected. “We have to know who they are.”

“Or at least try,” you argue to try and remind him to stay grounded and not get carried away with answers he might not get. “If this place is as horrible as you say, I doubt that they would show their faces. And without photos of their faces, we’d risk our lives for nothing.”

“They might not show their faces, that's right, but we have to try something to get answers. Even if it means being bolder in the attempt.”

You put the papers back in their respective folders and then as you get up to put the folders away, he gets up to return the binders to their shelf, leaving no room to add anything on the matter. Thus a silence befalls the dimly lit room that would make it feel alone if it hadn’t been for the soft shuffling noise he’s making.

“Jun-ho,” you call out as you don’t hear anyone coming, leaving you a perfect moment to speak up.

“Hm?”

You push the folders back in place and let your fingers linger on the back before you begin to walk away. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here?”

“Because I didn’t really plan on coming. I was looking into more clues on my brother's disappearance and found a connection with a player here at the same time so I followed him in hopes to find answers,” he explains nonchalantly, but that still doesn’t assure you of anything.

“Okay, so that explains why you were gone for an entire day before you disappeared, but…why not let me know?” You ask as you come to a stop at the end of the aisle. “I could have helped you, or even just kept you company. Or I could have just known where you were.”

Jun-ho’s footsteps start to depart from the aisle he is at and stop in the middle of the room, making you slowly walk away from the aisle but remain in the cover of darkness as you turn your flashlight off.

“I’m capable too, you know?” You remind him.

“I know,” he says back without a moment of hesitation, letting you know that he believes in what he said.

“I graduated in the same class as you at the academy. I have the same training, and I’m even a decorated detective,” you press with a slight quiver.

“I know,” he insists, but even if those words escape his mouth, you remain lost as to why he chose not to tell you a thing.

“Then?” You remark and at last step into his light where he finally sees your vulnerability in your eyes brimming with tears and your face contorted with frustration.

Vulnerability is something you don’t often show. When he met you you were cold; was it because you were in a male-populated career? Or was it the way you were raised? He didn’t know but it took you a while to even be his friend.

“I,” he says and pauses, luring you closer to him to meet eye to eye and not have the darkness be in the way—“I didn’t want to put your life at risk,” he reveals, making you blink in surprise.

“I didn’t know what I was getting into,” he adds, making your face soften and your breath hitch. “And I didn’t want to risk your life for something that could have turned out to be pointless. I don’t like to see you get hurt and if something had happened to you, or if something happens to you because of me, I…don’t think I could ever in my life forgive myself.”

Your face contorts with disbelief while in your stomach you feel a fluttering sensation as all the butterflies dance with utter awe at the sound of his confession.

“I…love you,” he reveals three words that hurt your chest, but also bring a deep bliss that makes it easy to get drunk off of.

“I’m happy you said it,” you redirect as you grab his arm. “Because I love you too, Jun-ho. I have not had many people in my life, but now I have you. And you’re someone I cherish and love beyond measure.”

His lips form into a smile as he proceeds to cup your cheek. Now you don’t have the luxury of time or of being careless, so you lean in for a short but passionate kiss that you linger in to savor the taste of his lips. A little taste of pure bliss and love in a sinister place.

“So,” you interject when you pull away. “What now?”

Jun-ho sighs. “With the Front Man gone, they’ll be busy with a game, so we wait until the VIP’s come. That’s all we can do. We can’t disguise ourselves as the Pink guards, they would have already seen the body in the water, so they’ll be even more suspicious now.”

You sigh deeply and step back. “Well…I can wait. I suppose. What other choice do we have?” You groan before you remember what else you have to put away and walk back to where you had gathered everything to grab the black box and hand it to Jun-ho.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find more on your brother,” you share your pity. “But is it enough for now?”

Jun-ho looks at the box containing the fact that his brother was one of the previous winners and hesitates before he nods softly.

“Good,” you say for his own benefit and then give him a peck on the cheek while he walks over to put the box away.

“You should get some rest. It’s going to take a while,” he offers, but you turn and quickly protest.

“No. I’m not tired. You should rest. How long has it been since you’ve slept? I can keep watch.”

Jun-ho turns without pushing into the shelf and walks back to you. “I’ve slept enough. You came all this way. You must be tired. It’s okay, I don’t mind keeping watch.”

You put your hands on your hips and shake your head. “No, we take turns then. You sleep the first half and I’ll do the second. This is me putting my foot down.”

Jun-ho scoffs and drops his head as he admits defeat. “Fine, come on then let’s stay in the aisle with the lights off.”

You giggle and make your way to an aisle. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you are trying to seduce me.”

He lets out a chuckle and you can’t help but smile at the small yet heartwarming gesture. “You don’t know better.”

As you take a seat on the floor the last thing he sees is you beaming at him before he turns the light off and takes a seat next to you.

“I can sing you a lullaby,” you tease him as you lean toward him.

“Pft,” he snorts and then he can’t help but laugh. “I’m not your dog.”

You giggle. “Aww, he enjoys them though. He looks forward to it.”

“It’s weird,” he mumbles as he takes something out of his pocket and then presses the cold object on your lap, letting you identify what it is—“for just in case.”

You place your hand on the gun to feel its cold surface before you place it beside you. “Well, hopefully, you won’t sleep through any trouble. I won’t be able to carry you out.”

He huffs. “I’ll be right here if anything does happen.”

You smile softly and then press your lips on the top of his head and let your lips linger there as he lets his body relax and his head fall on your shoulder.

Silence follows to accompany you after that and his snores don’t fill it because you know he’s not in a deep sleep, and how can anyone be comfortable enough to find deep sleep in this place? So you’re sitting in the silence, keeping an ear open for any potential danger while also wondering if you still want to keep this deeply buried secret still buried. Especially after Jun-ho said he loved you.

You trust Jun-ho, and he’s already here, but can you really confess such a deep-kept secret and put his life at even more risk? For so long you have tried to distance yourself from the secret. You turned your back on it and pretended it didn’t exist until you found out that the man you love was here putting his life at risk, so it begs the question, should you tell him and…risk losing him?

If you tell him will he turn his back on you and make your nightmare a reality? He told you he loved you so he deserves to not be lied to about something so significant, but…can you really be so selfless?

You don’t know, and you can’t figure out the answer to the question when he wakes up, so you shelve it and close your eyes.

It is hard to find sleep, but eventually, it comes to you and you drift off. It’s not a long sleep, you’re rudely woken up by the sound of the phone ringing again, but the sleep was enough to recharge some of that energy you had lost, which, that in itself is important.

“Get behind me,” Jun-ho demands as he grabs your arm and helps you up without actually letting you try on your own. He then proceeds to pull you behind him so he can point his gun through the bookshelf's gaps.

The phone rings again and in the short silence the elevator dings before another ring echoes and footsteps click on the ground. The phone rings two more times before there’s finally an answer in English. “<Front Man speaking,” you understand the monotone voice say before he pauses for a brief second and then continues again. “I’m happy to hear you enjoy the game. Yes, the host is currently waiting for the VIP’s to arrive.>”

A silence proceeds to fall and a couple of seconds later the sound of clicking shoes recedes, almost relieving you of the stress tightening your chest. Albeit before either Jun-ho or you can feel relief, the monotone voice booms in Korean.

“Are you in here right now?” He directs in Korean to either you or Jun-ho. You assume it’s Jun-ho, but you aren’t certain. “You’re good, but you made one mistake. I always put the receiver down the other way.”

Jun-ho peers over his shoulder to look at you with a shameful look, causing you to pass him a look of reassurance before you press your hands on his back for comfort.

“The bullet you shot was a Smith and Wesson M60 revolver, standard issue for Korean police. What’s a cop doing here…without a partner?”

You curl your fingers, grabbing the pink material of Jun-ho’s pink suit.

“Or so you want us to believe? We saw a boat arrive with a woman in it…” He pauses

Your breath hitches as your heart skips a beat.

“Your partner? I’ll tell you what?” He adds. “We’ll play a game. I’ll let her wander around to try and find you. If I catch her you can watch her die.”

Jun-ho’s breath shudders and his gloves crinkle as he tightens his grip around his gun.

“If you find her, you can come out and ask me questions. I am sure you have many,” he adds and then pauses as he finally sounds above you, making you hold Jun-ho tighter.

“I don’t know how you got in, but you can't leave this place without my permission,” the Front Man continues and gets closer, opening the door that leads to the record room and marching down. When he opens the final door that welcomes him in the same room, he’s quick to turn on the light, causing you to place your hand over your mouth and clench your jaw as your nerves rise sky high.

You wish for him to leave with every step he takes, but he walks past you. He then turns around and only gets closer to spotting you, and even if Jun-ho raises his gun higher, what would stop the Front Man from finding you?

The Front Man is the overseer for a reason, a defenseless woman and one man with one gun won’t scare him.

Nevertheless, as if by divine intervention the radio beeps, stopping the Front Man in his tracks before he can turn your way.

“We found a body,” a man comes through the radio.

“Where is it?”

“The Northern coast of the Island,” the other man responds, making the Front Man put his radio away and whisk off, leaving you and your boyfriend to remain hidden. Yet it’s only after a few minutes pass that you let go of your boyfriend, letting him move from his spot to face you without turning on his flashlight as if fearing the Front Man would appear if he did.

“We need to find somewhere else to hide. We won’t get lucky here again,” he says between heavy breaths.

You nod stiffly and slowly lower your head, letting him know you’re bothered. “What?” He probes.

“We don’t have much time left,” you point out as if he doesn’t know that fact clearly—“Whatever you have planned you need to do it now,” you press and face him with a pointed gaze.

“I know,” he mutters and puts his gun away before he sighs and averts his gaze, letting you know he’s holding something back.

“What?”

He unclenches his jaw and slowly meets your gaze through the darkness. “I’m going alone, and I’m not listening to any protest. You heard him. If he finds you…” he pauses and lets out a shaky breath, making you grab his hands to try and assure him that there’s nothing to worry about.

“He won’t. Especially not when I’m with you.”

Jun-ho pulls his hands away from your hold and grows firm. “No, I won’t put your life at any more risk because of me.”

“Jun—”

“I said no,” he cuts you off roughly. “You’ll stay in the cabinet until I’m done.”

You raise your chin and challenge him just as fiercely, but he doesn’t budge, ending in his victory.

“Fine,” you grumble and push yourself to your given height to storm off. Before you can reach the door you turn on your heels and bump into his chest. “But if you don’t make it back two hours after you leave I’ll go find you.”

He clenches his jaw and huffs but compromises for your own sake. “Fine.”

You hum with contentment before you turn again and leave the record room to now hide with Jun-ho in the cabinet and wait again, finding yourself lulling to sleep in that wait.

However, this time you just close your eyes because a light burning sensation on part of your face wakes you up, and when you try to follow where the sensation starts from, you catch Jun-ho with his dark eyes set on you.

He sees that you catch him staring, but he doesn’t look away, making you smile giddly.

Before you can comment on the matter though, the elevator dings and a pair of footsteps walks out before the presence lingers until he sets off as another ding rings out and multiple footsteps now echo, making the monotone voice speak.

“<Greetings,” the Front Man speaks in English. “I hope your long trip here has not been too difficult. I am the Front Man, who operates and oversees all matters here. It’s a true honor to welcome you>.”

“<Where is the host?>” A guest speaks and you now imagine that the VIP’s are here.

“<Unfortunately, some urgent business has prevented him from attending.>” The Front Man gives an excuse that triggers more questions.

“<Seriously?>” Someone else asks. “<I find it hard to believe the host would miss a night like tonight.>”

“<He asked me to apologize on his behalf,” The Front Man offers the guests.

“<Did some problem happen here?>” A man with a deep gravelly voice and accent asks.

“<Not at all. It’s just a personal matter of the host.>”

You clench your jaw and your gaze hardens. A detail Jun-ho misses as he’s attentive to the Front Man going on.

“<The remaining games will be held as scheduled.” He breathes out and then goes on. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed.>”

“<Well, I hope not,” a different man interjects in a different accent you can pinpoint. “Listen, I’m willing to give anybody some slack. That’s not a problem.” He chuckles. “I just have to say that I’m a difficult man to please. I hope you won’t disappoint me.>”

Oh, brother.

“<Shall we?>” The Front Man says, leaving the comment as is and bringing his guests toward the cabinet you’re hiding in, but ultimately passing you to go through a hidden door and leave elsewhere. Thankfully.

After a few minutes Jun-ho shifts to open the cabinet and climb out. You quickly follow after him to grab his hand and turn him around toward you so you can smash your lips on his. And since he didn’t expect the kiss he’s caught off guard, but he doesn’t slack, he grabs your jaw and pulls you closer, tempting to open the gates to your burning desire, but since you’re in such a dangerous environment the desire doesn’t burst open those gates, so even if you’re hesitant you’re able to pull back without trouble.

“Be careful,” you whisper against his lips.

He lifts his head to press a kiss on your forehead and let his lips linger on the sweat-covered surface. “I will. Promise. You be careful too.”

“Three hours.”

Jun-ho chuckles, making you feel chills as his breath washes over your flesh. “You’ve given me more time? I’m surprised.”

You smile softly. “I trust you, but I’m still looking out for you….until the end of the line partner.”

He smiles sweetly against your forehead. “Until then,” he whispers before he cups your jaw and presses another kiss on your forehead, and then leaves you waiting with your heart in your stomach in a place that makes you feel as if you’re stranded in the middle of the ocean with nothing but endless dark waters to taunt you.

——

*LATER*

It’s starting to feel stuffy in the cabinet and you can feel your hunger creeping in as you’re not plagued by a thousand other thoughts. Moreover, the time you gave Jun-ho is starting to come to an end, but you forbid yourself from overthinking. He’s smart. He’ll make it back. He will…

You lean your head back to rest it against the side as you wait and wait until you hear the sound of doors sliding open and footsteps that make a hasty and hard beat.

You don’t shift an inch so as to not alert the wrong person of your presence, even if it means you can’t see who it is.

You have to sit with your breath held until the person reaches the cabinet and crouches down to open the doors, revealing themselves to be your boyfriend Jun-ho.

“Jun-ho,” you breathe out with relief.

“I’m back,” he reassures you quickly before he waves you to him. “Now climb out so I can open the hatch.”

You hum and let him help you out so he can open the hatch, and then urge you to go back to climb down first, which you do without protest.

When your feet hit the concrete ground you turn and take a couple of steps away to give Jun-ho space to land, but right away you’re slammed with fear as you see the dark water and realize what awaits you in order to leave the cave.

“Jun-ho,” you let out a shaky whisper and when you hear his feet hit the ground, but not respond you peer back and notice his eyes fixated above for a lingering moment before he turns away and hastily rushes to you to grab you by the hand and pull you with him.

“He was right above us,” he shares quickly which you barely catch, but manage to anyway. “He knows we’re going to use the scuba gear to make our escape. We need to hurry.”

He then stops you where the benches are and swipes scuba equipment off the bench to start putting it on you without as much as thinking.

“Jun-ho,” you call out, but it goes to deaf ears because he continues to help you, causing you to glance at the water and see a malicious darkness taunt you. “Jun-ho,” you whisper again as you keep your eyes on the water, but again he doesn’t listen.

“Jun-ho!” You exclaim and he snaps out of his stupor to look at you with concern—“let me,” you don’t express your fear to let him focus on his own gear, which he does, but your fear only heightens and it's something Jun-ho doesn’t need to notice. After he snapped out of his stupor he remembered.

“We have flashlights to light our way, and I’ll be right in front of you.”

You swallow back nervously and nod hesitantly before you wrap your phone in a plastic bag and shove it into a secure pocket. The time comes to dive in the water, but all you see is death looming in the deep water.

“You’ll be okay,” Jun-ho assures you one more time before he puts his mouthpiece in and dives into the water. You grab your mouthpiece and stare at the water, watching the malicious water grow darker and deeper than it actually is. Yet you know time is critical and there’s no other choice so you insert your mouthpiece and dive into the cold water. After that, Jun-ho doesn’t hesitate to sink in and you have no other choice but to follow him. And as comforting as his presence is, your fear doesn’t cease to exist.

The malicious darkness slowly closes in on you the more you swim in the never-ending underwater tunnel, while the bottom, even though it is visible, is an abyss that threatens to drag you to a point of no return. There’s so many times when you want to stop and just ball up and close your eyes to not look at what you’re surrounded by, but you know that if you do so you’re doomed so you keep swimming, feeling the fear gripping at your throat until finally you see the break of light and resurface. You're not out of the water, nor are you close to land, but you can take a deep breath of fresh air and grasp the fact that you aren’t going to drown in the eerie depths.

“We need to get in touch with the police and the Coast Guard. Or at least I have to send what I got on my phone,” Jun-ho says with his mouthpiece out of his mouth and his eyes set on the island you just escaped. “I’m sorry we have to dive back in and swim back.”

You shake your head. “It's the only place we can probably get some service so…it’s okay,” you assure him. “Let’s get going before they find us.”

Jun-ho glances over at you and nods before you reinsert your mouthpiece and dive back into the water. The swim to shore is shorter this time and not as dark. You're not surrounded by an underground tunnel, but the fear is still as high, and your anxiety is skyrocketing as you sense that the Front Man and his pink goons are close due to their lack of presence so far and the fact that you’re out in the open heading right back where you left from.

At least when you finally make it to shore you’re able to let go of some of the emotional weight that fear burdens you with while also shedding the physical weight of the scuba gear. If only you were lucky enough to have service in your phones, but alas, neither Jun-ho nor you have any service, pushing you to climb the rocky hill set before you in hopes of getting enough service on high ground.

Once you’re close to reaching the top though, the sound of a gunshot brings you to an immediate halt, and when you look back to follow the noise another gunshot follows and you’re welcomed to the sight of pink guards trying to climb the rocky hill, and the Front Man.

“Shit,” you mumble between pants and then get pulled down by Jun-ho as he hides you in the shrubbery to pull out his phone and call your Chief now that he has a bar of service. And as the line rings you keep your eyes on the bright pink guards coming your way.

When the Chief finally answers the phone you continue to be on the lookout.

“It’s me, Chief,” Jun-ho says between pants.

As expected the Chief descends into madness, but Jun-ho pushes to be heard. “Can you hear me all right, sir? Just hold on, I’ll explain it later.”

The pink guards disappear past your eyesight, meaning that even if they’re not above you, they’re finding their way.

“Look,” Jun-ho keeps ignoring the question. “We’re somewhere southwest of the mainland.”

“What?” You hear the chief's query before he asks if you’re with Jun-ho since you’ve been missing too, but Jun-ho keeps pressing on.

“Can you try to locate my signal? Put a whole team together for this.”

The Chief once again questions Jun-ho while you see the Front Man following the Pink Guards trail.

“You gotta get a whole squad. The police, coast guard, everyone!” Jun-ho insists, giving a second for the Chief to respond before he continues. “Let me send over a couple of things, okay, and take a look.”

The Front Man also proceeds to disappear into the wilderness, making your heart begin to pound.

“I’ll call you again soon,” Jun-ho says and ends the call but proceeds to try and send the Chief evidence he managed to obtain.

“Are you done? I can’t see them, we have to go,” you hurry Jun-ho up and he follows up with a hum so you grab his hand and pull him with you so you can now put space between you and the people after you.

Once you make it to the top of the hill, Jun-ho lets your hand go and brings you to a stop. “Wait, wait, wait!”

You stop against a tree and look back, seeing him checking his phone and pressing on his screen with obvious panic, but you can’t do anything about it so you look out and that’s when you catch the Pink Guards not far from where you are.

“Jun-ho,” you call out and grab his shoulder to gain his attention so he can see what you do, and it’s at that moment that the Pink Guards come to a brief stop and manage to spot you and Jun-ho.

“They’re over there!” A guard points out to you, making Jun-ho and you break into a sprint to leave where you are.

After a while of running and when you’re within a forest, the guards get closer. You can see them and hear their commotion, but Jun-ho and you are fueled with a dire need to escape with your lives so you manage to pick up your speed, but soon thereafter, you’re forced to a stop as you come across a cliff that leads to the water. There’s no more path, just water below the cliff.

“We…we have to,” you stammer. “We have to jump!”

You look over at Jun-ho and just as you meet his dark eyes, he pushes you into some thick shrubbery just beside you that keeps you hidden. He then kicks something in the water that makes a big splash as the Pink Guards catch up and announce their presence with a gunshot to the air before you can jump out and push you and Jun-ho into the water.

“Police,” Jun-ho exclaims his identity. “Put down your weapons, you got that?!”

You move to be able to peek through the branches and leaves as the pink guards shuffle to find their position in front of Jun-ho.

“We already know everything about you all,” Jun-ho shares as you see him show off his phone. “The Coast Guard will be here soon.”

“I don’t know,” a different but familiar voice interjects in the distance. “Have the Korean police ever been quick to act?” He asks and you drift your attention to the voice and see the Front Man approaching Jun-ho menacingly. “And besides, you barely get any signal around here. I don’t know what you tried to send, but I doubt it went through.”

It’s a form of intimidation, but Jun-ho doesn’t falter. “Come and turn yourself in. You’ll get a plea bargain with that.”

“If you drop your gun right now and hand over the phone, I might let you and the woman live,” The Front Man mocks Jun-ho as he keeps moving toward him, making Jun-ho react.

“Stop right there!”

“The gun of yours holds five bullets,” The Front Man reveals that he knows Jun-ho’s predicament. “But for the police regulations, one chamber must remain empty and one must be filled with a blank. That leaves three live rounds. You already used one to kill a man, and another one to break the lock. Which means that there’s only one left in your gun.”

You clench your jaw with fear and use every muscle in your body not to expose yourself and just tackle Jun-ho

in the water because you know that if you do you'd be killed before you hit the water.

“One bullet is more than enough to kill you,” Jun-ho spats and cocks his gun, but the Front Man keeps moving forward.

“Give up,” he urges Jun-ho.

“I warned you,” Jun-ho snaps. “Take another step and—”

Before he can finish his warning he does as he said and shoots the Front Man in the shoulder, making you hold your breath as you expect the worst.

Alas, you catch the Front Man signal his men not to retaliate, so you’re able to breathe while keeping your attention on every single movement made by both men.

“This is over,” the Front Man groans. “Now come with me.”

Jun-ho steps back closer to the ledge, and the Front Man gets closer while he proceeds to urge Jun-ho to give up—“Do as I say. Or you die.”

“Who the hell…” Jun-ho trails off as he lowers his gun. “Are you?” He finishes asking, and miraculously in response the Front Man reaches for his mask to take it off and reveal his face, giving meaning to why he’s been merciful to Jun-ho and not killed him yet. The Front Man is…In-ho, Jun-ho’s older brother…

No…

“In-ho,” Jun-ho whispers in disbelief as he watches with wide-eyed shock.

“Let's go,” the Front Man tells Jun-ho one more time—“make it easy. For you and your partner,” he says with a softness in his voice whilst he extends his hand to offer it to Jun-ho.

Alas, without surprise Jun-ho declines with a shake of his head, making the Front Man lower his hand to instead grab his gun now. You see that without a fault and intend to come out of hiding, but Jun-ho knows you well. He looks your way and as if pretending to speak to his brother he mutters “no,” to you before glancing back at his brother. “Brother…In-ho, why?”

The Front Man hits the trigger and the bullet pierces Jun-ho’s shoulder, making him stumble back, while your eyes go wide and you immediately cover your mouth to not cry out in response. You do want to run out but either way, before you can even attempt to snap out of your shock, Jun-ho loses balance and falls back.

You want to cry out for him, but with your hands over your mouth, all you can do is contort your face with distress as tears crawl down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, the Front Man approaches the ledge and watches his brother hit the water. After a few lingering seconds he puts his mask over his face, masking any and every emotion he could have, and then turns around. Before he can walk back to his goons, his masked face tilts your way, and his masked eyes find you.

He looks right at you, there’s no mistaking it. You meet eye to eye and he then walks away without exposing you. It’s only once they’ve put some distance between you that you come out of hiding and without so much as hesitating, you jump off the cliff, feeling gravity drag you down with all its force before you hit the water.

Now you would give yourself time to collect yourself after making a big jump, but when you resurface you don’t care about anything, but Jun-ho.

“Jun-ho?!” You cry out and look around desperately. When you find his unconscious body resurfacing you swim toward him, feeling a twinge of agony hit your heart as you fear the worst, but you also know you can’t be certain and that you don’t want this living nightmare to become a reality, so when you reach him you quickly wrap your arms around his body and press your ear against his chest.

Now it takes a while to hear a thing, your own heart is thumping in your ears, but you’re insistent and refuse to accept that he may be dead so you hold your breath and search.

After a second of waiting you finally catch the sound of his beating heart and break down into a sob as you hug his body against you with relief, stealing a moment from time to press a kiss on his forehead before you find a sliver of solace in his beating heart as you press your forehead against his, right there, in the eerie sea.

A/N- To be continued in a series??? Would you all like that??

92 notes · View notes

hannahmanderr · 17 hours ago

Text

First Contact

My initial fic for the @infiniterealms event! Please feel free to take it and remix it however you'd like! I only have two requests if you do:

Tag me in the fic or send me a message about it so I can read it!

Please do not turn this into a crossover, include strong gore/violence, or write it as Bad Parents Jack and Maddie!

(AO3) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Approaching coordinates.”

The words, spoken by a smooth, androgynous voice, echo in the tiny cockpit of the Specter Speeder. They don’t quite reach Maddie’s ears, however. She is too engrossed contemplating the invitation in her hands.

It arrived four days ago. They’re not sure how; it was simply sitting there, taped to the closed doors of the Portal when they entered the lab that morning. That alone was unsettling - someone or something would have had to enter the house unnoticed, go to the basement to leave the envelope, and then leave without detection - but it was the invitation itself that was even more unsettling.

She runs a finger across the small, single piece of heavy parchment. The envelope, left behind in a containment unit in the lab, had been made of the same material. Durable as it appears to be, it feels oddly fragile under her fingertip, as if it is struggling to materialize itself for her to be able to touch in the first place. Even through her jumpsuit, she can feel the bitter cold radiating off of the shimmery black parchment. If she tilts it just right, she can almost see the twinkle of frost.

The invitation itself is embossed on the parchment, written in loopy cursive in ectoplasmic green:

By order of the Office of the High King of the Infinite Realms,

His Majesty formally requests the presence of Dr. and Dr. Fenton of Amity Park this Saturday the Seventeenth at 4 o’clock PM, EST (Earth-based) at the Royal Residence.

Refreshments will be provided. Weapons welcome.

Cordially,

Glinforblimph, Scribe to His Majesty

Below the scribe’s nearly illegible signature is what Maddie assumes to be the king’s seal - a complicated arrangement of stars that form a spiral - and below that is the strangest part of the invitation.

A set of coordinates, hastily handwritten on what seems to be a very average, very human Post-it note, taped to the bottom of the parchment, as if they were added as an afterthought.

Maddie thumbs the Post-it note. Why the coordinates weren’t included in the original invitation is beyond her, and she’s not sure whether to feel appreciative that the king and his staff at least remembered to include them at all or offended that they hadn’t been included in the first place.

Part of her still wonders if the whole thing is a ruse, if the coordinates lead to some trap. It’s a possibility that she and Jack had debated heatedly for days. She had been far more inclined to see it as a trap, but Jack had reasoned that any ghost calling himself a High King would probably just attack them outright rather than going through an elaborate charade such as this. Ghosts are far from primitive creatures, they know, but Jack too pointed out that with how important power (real or perceived) is to a ghost’s social standing, any ghost worth their salt is far more likely to make a public display of attacking them if that is what he wants, simply for the free advertisement of his power.

Maddie can’t really argue with that logic.

Plus, she can’t deny her rabid curiosity about the whole ordeal. An invitation such as this is a far cry from the M.O. of the ghost that kidnapped Amity Park to the Ghost Zone once, the one who also called himself a king. This is clearly someone else’s work, and though she’ll never admit it out loud, she’s dying to know whose it is. Not to mention the intrigue surrounding the whole concept of the Ghost Zone having a High King. Is it a true king? Merely a figurehead? A ghost who has simply declared themselves king with no real political power? Is it a title handed down or won?

Her mind drifts to Vlad. In college, she, Jack, and Vlad had balanced each other out well when it came to their studies on ghosts. She was the biochemist. Jack was the engineer. Vlad was, for lack of a better term, the anthropologist. He’d always been fascinated with the history and culture of ghosts, the side of ecto-science she and Jack had never taken as much interest in. She wonders if he still holds that interest, or if he happens to know anything about the apparent ghost political hierarchy.

Maybe she should’ve asked.

“Mads, look.”

Jack’s warm voice startles her out of her thoughts. She glances up to where he’s sitting beside her in the pilot’s seat, navigating them through the Zone with a grin on his face. A burst of affection floods her chest. He’s worn that grin ever since they got up this morning; his excitement over entering the Ghost Zone for the first time (aside from the aforementioned mass kidnapping) is not easily contained, and something about it reminds Maddie of why she fell in love with him in the first place.

He catches her watching him, and the grin widens into a laugh. “No, not at me, look out there,” he says with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.

She looks out the front window, where he’s pointed with his head, and her stomach does a funny little swoop as she spots a large palace looming ahead of them.

Even if they hadn’t had the coordinates, Maddie knows she would’ve been able to instantly peg this palace as the Ghost King’s. Inexplicably, she can feel its presence, even from within the Specter Speeder. Cold and commanding, like a glacier, broadcasting far and wide that this is the lair of a truly powerful ghost, every bit befitting a king. She wonders what it must feel like to an average ghost, if its aura is strong enough to be perceived by a human like herself.

Strangely, though, as her eyes rove over the black stone adorned in something that sparkles in the light - glass? Ice? - she also gets a sense of security, of ease. Like entering her house after fighting through the snow and cold. The idea itself unsettles her, the fact that a ghost’s lair’s aura can have this sort of profound effect, but the effect itself is too overwhelming for the anxiety to dominate.

It’s a bizarre feeling to have to sit with, nonetheless.

“Huh,” Jack says as he begins their descent.

“What’s that?”

“Do you think they know we’re coming?”

Maddie hums. “I would expect so. Why?”

“There’s only one guard.”

Maddie blinks, then adjusts her gaze. Sure enough, the entrance to the castle is staffed by a single guard. Not that she had been expecting a welcoming parade, of course, but she can’t wrap her head around why a king would leave his castle so defenseless, especially if he really is expecting them.

“Maybe they’re all on their lunch?” Jack cracks a grin at his own joke, and Maddie can hear the echo of her kids’ groans in her head.

“They could be hiding,” Maddie points out. “Or invisible.”

“Radar’s only picking up the one.”

The guard has noticed their approach. She takes some solace in the fact that it doesn’t immediately prepare an attack, or that hundreds of other guards don’t suddenly appear out of the woodwork.

“Just take us in gently, sweetie,” she says. Her fists begin to tighten until she remembers that she’s still holding the king’s invitation. Swallowing, she smooths it out and stares at the king’s seal. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s nearly fifteen minutes after they land that they finally exit the Specter Speeder. Putting on the safety gear they had brought in such a tiny space proved to be more difficult than they’d expected, but it was necessary. The arrival of the king’s invitation had left them little time to determine if the atmosphere of the Ghost Zone was habitable for humans (how they had neglected to do this research for nearly three years, Maddie couldn’t fathom), and so precautions had to be taken.

Oxygen masks and tanks, of course. Bulkier HAZMAT suits over their standard ecto-resistant jumpsuits. Special goggles, jetpacks for potential low-gravity travel, a body cam for each of them to record everything. Oddly enough, it had been Jack who had wanted to bring more equipment for data collection, but Maddie had nixed it due to how difficult it already was to wear everything.

And then, last but not least, their weapons. Maddie had been unsure why she felt such trepidation as she attached her staff and two ecto-blasters to her hip, but it was enough to cause her to nearly drop the staff.

Maybe she was simply hoping she won’t have to use them.

Now, though, as she and Jack near the castle, she eyes the spear strapped to the guard’s back. The tip glints wickedly, and even though it’s a ghost’s weapon, she somehow knows it can hurt her just as easily as a ghost.

Being prepared against these threats is just good practice, she tells herself.

“State your name and your business,” the guard says the moment they’re within hearing range.

Maddie breathes in deeply. The artificial air in her mask leaves her nose feeling dry. “I am Maddie Fenton,” she says. She tries to keep her voice confident, but she’s unsure if it’s coming across. “This is my husband, Jack Fenton. We were invited by your king to come here today.”

The guard glances over each of them in turn. “You will remove your equipment and surrender all weapons before entering the palace,” they say, a haughty air to their voice.

Although she can’t see it, Maddie can sense Jack opening his mouth to respond. She cuts him off with a raise of her hand, quick and gentle. She loves Jack to the ends of the Earth and back - boisterousness and all - but these are uncharted waters. One misspoken word could potentially spell out disaster for humankind.

“We were told our weapons were welcome,” Maddie says to the guard, careful to keep her voice as even as possible. “It said so in the invitation.” Slowly, purposefully, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the parchment, extending it to the guard.

The guard snatches it out of her hand, regarding her with a disdainful look before examining it. She has half a mind to snatch it back. Who is this ghost to go around treating her like scum of the earth?

Instead, she curls her hand into a tight fist and forces herself to even her breath. This isn’t even close to being the same as confronting the ghosts in Amity Park. For all intents and purposes, she and Jack are in enemy territory, on the turf of supposedly the most powerful ghost of them all. The two of them may have a reputation for being trigger-happy, but she’s not so stupid as to pick a fight she knows she’ll lose.

As much as it sickens her to admit that she knows she’ll lose against even someone like the Ghost King.

The guard’s frown deepens as they run a finger over the king’s seal. Maddie watches in wonder as a tiny aurora shimmers to life above the seal before evaporating into the ambient ectoplasm. The guard looks nearly as surprised.

“This does appear to be authentic,” they murmur to themselves. Glancing back up at her and Jack, their expression darkens again. “Still, I cannot in good conscience allow you into the palace with potential threats. I am the captain of the royal guard. The safety of His Majesty, his palace, and all who reside within it are my utmost priority. I will not allow anything to endanger them.”

“But surely you’re bound to follow your king’s orders,” Maddie argues. “You said so yourself that the invitation is authentic. That means he’s already said that we can bring our weapons in. You wouldn’t want to disobey him, would you?”

“The scribe wrote that your weapons were permitted. That fool couldn’t even be bothered to remember to include directions.” The guard flicks the Post-it note. “I trust his words far less than His Majesty’s.”

“It still had to have come from the king! Please, we’re not trying to be difficult. We just don’t understand why we’d be lied to like this.” Because you’re all ghosts, the enraged part of her wants to add, but she bites her tongue.

For the briefest of moments, the guard’s expression seems to soften the slightest bit, but the moment is so fleeting, Maddie is left wondering if she imagined it.

“If it is His Majesty’s prerogative,” the guard begins slowly, “then he may choose to allow you your weapons. However, it will only be after I receive his explicit instructions, and after I and my staff have been able to conduct a thorough examination of the weapons and ensure they will not pose a significant threat.”

Maddie exhales slowly. “Fine,” she bites out. “We can surrender most of our weapons.” At this point, as much as her instincts are screaming at her, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t feel like wasting her time arguing with some ghost that was never going to listen to her in the first place. A twinge of annoyance burns through her chest, wondering if all of the king’s guests get treated like second-class citizens.

Besides, as loath as she is to make the concession, they were never going to be allowed in with guns blazing - invitation or no - and while she would much prefer the security of a blaster on her hip, she’s too intelligent of a woman to ignore the politics of it.

Because that’s really what this boils down to, doesn’t it? A political meeting.

Distantly, she wonders why the king chose to summon her and Jack. Surely, an actual leader in the human world would’ve been a better choice. As much as she doesn’t like the man, Vlad would’ve been much more ideal, having both the political power as mayor of Amity Park and the expertise on ghosts necessary to tangle with the ghost monarchy of all things.

So why choose them?

“We can’t remove all of our weapons, though,” she continues, trying to bring her voice back to something less hostile. “We have some built into our jumpsuits. And we can’t remove our other equipment. It keeps us alive.” She tries not to cringe at her poor word choice. “We haven’t had the chance to determine if the Ghost Zone’s environment and atmosphere are hospitable for humans or not.”

The ghost glares down at them, their tail lashing back and forth. “I assure you, you are not the first humans to enter the Realms and live to tell the tale,” they say with a sniff, “and even if you were, His Majesty would not allow you to perish so easily.”

“Wait,” Jack says before Maddie can stop him. “Does that mean he can alter the Ghost Zone’s environment at will? Or just the environment around the palace? Does he -”

“Jack,” Maddie says at the same time the guard says, “Perhaps these questions are best left to His Majesty himself.”

Maddie can picture Jack’s crestfallen face. He has always been the more outwardly inquisitive between them, though Maddie can’t deny her own fascination with the concept of the Ghost King’s abilities.

A time and a place, Maddie, she reminds herself.

She tries not to think about how if the king can make the environment safe for them, he can just as easily turn and make it deadly.

“At any rate,” she says, cutting into the tense silence that has settled over them all, “how can we be sure we won’t suffocate the minute we take off these masks? Even if you say other humans have been here…” She lets her sentence hang unfinished. She’s not exactly sure how she would have ended it anyway.

The guard sighs heavily, and a spark of interest flits through Maddie’s head as she wonders how they are able to do so without lungs. “You will simply have to take His Majesty’s word for it.”

His word. Not the guard’s.

She finds the distinction interesting.

“Well…” She shrugs helplessly. “What are we supposed to do then? We’ll have to surrender our jumpsuits to meet your terms, but we can’t exactly meet the king without any clothes.”

Beside her, Jack chokes on a laugh, but thankfully doesn’t say anything.

The guard seems to consider this for a moment. “I believe we can accommodate for that.”

____________________________________________________________

Nearly an hour later, Maddie finds herself pacing back and forth in the sitting room she and Jack have been brought to. The palace staff had provided them with simple linen garments to wear in lieu of their jumpsuits. “Garments” might be too generous of a term; it’s clear they were thrown together on an extremely short notice, held together with haphazard stitches and maybe just the barest hint of ghost magic. Maddie feels more like she’s been wrapped in a bundle of fabric than actually dressed.

Her humiliation is not helped in the slightest by how the king’s staff treated her and Jack as they helped them and brought them to the room. There was, of course, the guard, who continued to treat them like scum of the Earth. The seamstress who brought them the clothes, however, had regarded them with enormously wide, unblinking eyes and only spoken to them in a series of squeaks and whimpers, giving Maddie the impression that maybe the girl had been a mouse in life. And then there had been the servants all throughout the halls, gasping at them and leaning in to whisper to each other heatedly, as if she and Jack were celebrities.

Or, perhaps more accurately, exotic creatures. She doesn’t imagine that these ghosts see humans too often.

Most frustratingly about the whole situation, though, is that none of this - the invitation, the unpreparedness, the staff’s treatment of them, even the halls of the palace itself - has given her any sort of indication as to who the Ghost King is, or what kind of ghost he will be when they meet him. It’s like trying to put together a puzzle, she thinks, but the pieces are all from different puzzles. For someone like Maddie, who prefers concrete data to the unknown, it’s a nightmare.

Not to mention the idea of going blindly into a potentially hostile situation terrifies her.

Not that she’ll ever admit it out loud.

The door bangs open, startling Maddie out of her thoughts and Jack out of his seat. The guard who greeted them floats in the doorway. Without their helmet on, she can see that they have a third, milky eye in the center of their forehead. Distantly, she wonders why there’s no opening for it in the helmet.

“His Majesty will see you now,” the guard says curtly, gesturing for them to follow.

The trip to the throne room is short, but somehow they still encounter a trio of what Maddie assumes to be maids. She rolls her eyes as they too watch them with wide eyes before bending in close to each other, whispering hurriedly.

“I can’t believe he actually…” one says.

“... think they’ll attack their own…” another is saying.

“... fleshier than he is,” the third adds rather unhelpfully.

Maddie’s not sure what to make of the conversation. Their own what?

“Mads.”

Too late, she realizes she’s stopped in the middle of the hallway and is staring at the maids. Jack and the guard are ahead of her, watching her expectantly. Jack looks like he wants to ask her something, but strangely enough, he stays quiet.

Blushing furiously and pushing the conversation out of her head, Maddie scurries back to Jack’s side.

____________________________________________________________

The throne room looks as if it had been plucked right from a fairytale. It’s done in a dark, ashy marble, complete with a long carpet and thick curtains in deep blue, trimmed with silver. Tall pillars line the sides of the room, each wrapped in a spiraling pattern of frost and decorated with a black banner stamped with the king’s seal. A stained glass window at the back of the room, behind the throne, filters light through its panes, throwing prismatic blues, greens, and purples around the room.

The throne itself sits on a short dais, and even Maddie can appreciate the workmanship that has clearly gone into it. The entire throne is made of crystalline ice, almost as if it was carved straight from a glacier. Threads of bright green ectoplasm are embedded within it, creating intricate, abstract patterns and giving it the illusion of a glow. A plush pillow rests on the seat, done in the same blue and silver fabric as the curtains.

“Maddie,” Jack whispers with a nudge, “look up.”

She does, and an involuntary gasp tears itself from her throat. Where she had expected a ceiling, perhaps like she’d find in an old cathedral, there is only the expanse of a night sky. Stars twinkle back at her, and she’s easily able to identify some of the constellations. The Big Dipper, of course, with Polaris in its glory, and over there she spots Orion. It’s only thanks to Danny and his love for the stars that she’s able to realize that she’d be able to see these same constellations above her roof this time of the year.

It’s a fascinating decorating choice, she thinks, for the Ghost King to recreate Earth’s night sky in his throne room. Is it a deliberate choice? Is it a memory of the life he left behind? Is it simply just an appreciation for a sky that’s not ectoplasm?

A chill runs down her spine, and not just because she can feel the cold radiating off the throne. A realization has just hit her.

How powerful of a ghost must the king be to create such a perfect replica? To make her doubt for even a second that she never left Earth?

The stars above sway as a wave of dizziness overcomes her.

It’s only when Jack reaches out and gently pulls her back onto the long carpet that she looks away. Her face burns in embarrassment as she realizes she had been so lost in thought that she’d begun to wander aimlessly. Thankfully, if the guard notices, they don’t say anything about it.

Still though, she berates herself. She can’t afford to lose her focus. Not here. Not this deep in enemy territory. Not in the middle of the lair of the most powerful ghost in existence.

Oh God, she thinks as her stomach drops. Suddenly, the guard leading them down to the throne feels more like an executioner dragging them to the gallows. How could she have allowed them to give up their weapons so easily? How could she have let them be stripped of their defenses and led like lambs to a slaughter? This is the Ghost King. She and Jack have threatened and hunted his subjects time and again. Any self-respecting leader isn’t going to let that slide so easily.

Let alone a ghost.

“Hey.” Jack’s broad hand slips around hers, and she instinctively grips it tightly. “You’re overthinking things,” he chides quietly, but there’s still a light air to his voice.

“We shouldn’t have come.” It’s hard to keep her voice from shaking, especially as the air begins to grow bitingly cold as they near the throne. “He’s going to kill us. Or-or throw us in the dungeons. Or something. We’ll never get out of here. We’ll never see Jazz and Danny again. We -”

“Maddie. Look at me.”

She turns her head to look into his eyes, and despite her rampaging anxiety, the sight of the pure warmth and trust in his deep blue eyes grounds her, even if just a bit. Jack has always been the steadfast one between them. She knows that to an outsider, it seems as if she’s the one always pulling him back down into reality, but she thinks that he’s pulled her back up into reality just as often, if not more. It’s just one of the reasons she fell in love with him, one of the reasons she thinks they’re as strong as they are.

“We went through this,” Jack is saying, his tone devoid of any exasperation. He squeezes her hand. “If he wanted to hurt us, he would’ve just come and done it. He wouldn’t have sent an invitation saying that we could bring our weapons. I’m sure whatever he wants us here for can’t be that bad.” Ahead, the guard grunts, but doesn’t say anything.

“We still don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Maddie says. They come to a stop in front of the dais, and somewhere from the side of the room, an attendant flits over to the guard. The two begin speaking in hushed tones, in a language she can’t understand. Still, she watches them warily as she continues speaking. “We shouldn’t have come into this so blind.”

Jack’s brows furrow just the slightest bit. The attendant gives the guard a quick bow - nothing more than a dip - and flits back from where she came.

“It’ll be okay,” Jack says. He squeezes her hand again. “We’ll figure it out together. I know we will.”

Maddie opens her mouth to respond, but the guard begins speaking before she can.

“Presenting His Majesty,” they begin in a booming voice that reverberates against the marble, throughout the entire room, “the Keeper of Gateways, Pariah’s Bane, the Twice-Born -”

A door opens from the side wing, interrupting the guard. “Rowan, chill out,” a new voice says with a light laugh. “I’ve told you, you really don’t have to do this every time you introduce me.”

Maddie’s blood runs colder than the ice on the throne.

“Danny?” The name spills from her mouth before she can stop it. She claps a hand over her mouth as the guard, presumably Rowan, fixes her with a heated glare.

To be fair, she’s not sure if she would’ve been able to stop herself if she’d tried. A scientist and huntress she may be, but before that, she is a mother, and a mother always recognizes her own children.

And that voice was undeniably her son’s.

Her mind reels. It makes no sense. How is he here? In the Ghost Zone? In the Ghost King’s throne room? Why is he here? Addressing a ghost like an old friend? What does -

The flurry of confusion screeches to a halt, though, when a figure steps out from behind a curtain, and the rug is pulled out from under her a second time.

A thick mop of snow white hair. Electric green eyes that betray a bewilderment similar to her own. An insignia emblazoned proudly across his chest.

Maddie relaxes, but only marginally. In the midst of a world of unfamiliarity, the sight of Phantom, someone she knows all too well, is begrudgingly soothing. She’s not happy to see him, not by a long shot, but she feels a little less out of her depth. Even if things involving Phantom tend to veer towards disaster, and even if his presence in the Ghost King’s throne room is unsettling at best.

The minimal relief is short-lived, however, as she registers more in regards to his appearance. Namely the ring on his middle finger with a stone that matches the ice of the throne. And the cape draped around his shoulders with a collar of fluff and an adornment of stars. And the crown nestled in his hair, also seemingly made of ice but shimmering with the ever-shifting lights of the borealis.

Her stomach drops to her feet.

Maybe she’s much more out of her depth than she originally thought.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton #hannah writes #infinite realms 2025 #fanfiction #dp fanfiction #ghost king danny

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toppamplemousse · 2 days ago

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f1 fic rec list

inspired to make my own fic rec list. decided to choose some of my fave fics that are under 5k hits just for those who might not have seen some of these!

please be warned - some of these do not have happy endings. it wouldn't be a list from me if there wasn't some major suffering.

lestappen fic recs:

even a Mouse by ficster28 / @ficster28 | 19.7k words | G

Charles was fifteen when his dæmon settled. It was a perfectly average age to settle, and it happened so quietly and naturally that neither he nor Moira even noticed at first. They had other things to think about: today, they were aiming to beat out Ben Barnicoat and Max Verstappen at Val d’Argenton. It wasn’t until they were getting into the kart that they realised. Moira normally transformed into an insect to race, something small enough that she could crawl inside Charles’s race suit and be protected as he drove. Today, she didn’t even try to change; they both just looked at each other, and knew. “A mouse,” he said. genuinely a fic like none other. so painful. so beautiful.

The Tides of Fate by crimsonmidnight / @mvlionheart | 14.5k words | M

When they break apart they’re both breathless and laughing, forming a symphony with the seagulls squawking nearby and the shouts of men dragging logs past the gatehouse. The world feels like an infinite expanse and nothing more than the space between them, somehow simultaneously. "You’re pretty good at that,” Max comments, hand brushing over the back of his neck “Kissing?” Charles asks. “I’ve never done it before.” “No,” Max teases. “You’re rubbish at that, but you’re a good jailbreak. Thanks for the assistance. I’ll see you around." heed the tags. prepare for heartbreak. the most beautiful tragic story.

Your Name is Charles by joesboilingpoint / @tylersayscool | 45k words | M

After running into a soldier following the burning of his commune and maddened by grief, Charles aims to shoot the man down, only to be taken down himself, waking up later on and remembering nothing of his previous life, now a soldier himself. - M is very practical about his work, seasoned in combat and skilled in spotting targets. C has seen the man in practice, seen him sweat and grunt and keep himself in shape. He’s seen him routinely climb ropes and train for ruck marches, seen him demolish his target boards. But it’s one thing to see the man train in the comfort of their home base, where it’s safe and sheltered and familiar. It’s a whole other experience watching him in action. this author nails an AU like no one else. the world building is unparalleled and the story is just incredible. ending has me in a CHOKEHOLD

blowing smoke by gurlznboyz | 7.5k (unfinished) | E

“What is it like?” “What is what like?” “Being with men,” Charles gestures. He means for it to be derisive. Cutting. His hand flails a little limply. “Is it different than with women?” “Yeah, mate,” Max says. “Fucking a guy is totally different than fucking a girl. That’s kind of the whole point, is it not?” Charles shrugs, bringing his own beer bottle up to his lips. “I would not know. I have never had sex with a man.” when charles catches max verstappen, his mortal enemy since they were all but seven, kissing a man, he tries to be normal about it. when they start falling into bed together, he becomes decidedly not normal about it. BEAR WITH ME when i say that this is one chapter so far and i think about it all the time. something just so delicious. ill be here always.

here's to all the mistakes i never made by ncr1pted / @3ncr1pted | 4.9k words | E

Charles is twenty-eight–almost twenty-nine. He's not stupid either. He knows people; knows how to play them, how to get what he wants, how they act. He can recognize the starstruck look in his teammates eyes whenever he and Charles talk. The way he follows Charles around, half a step behind. He used to look at Seb that way. when i say. the fact this is under 5k words and yet i went thru every emotion on the planet. few people understand the sebchal of it all like aries does.

love & much worse drugs by indras | 5k words (unfinished) | E

It was the night of the twelfth of December 2021. Now, if you know anything about Formula One, then you probably know the earlier events of that day. Those, we won’t get into. This story isn’t about racing. It’s about sex. In Max’s eyes, sex and racing had always been opposites. Racing for a finish line during sex would make one a selfish partner. And Max had never thought himself a selfish partner. Nor would one want to fight their partner in bed, least of all in the way that Max fought his opponents on the racetrack. And that is exactly how Max managed to compartmentalize his relations with Charles Leclerc, his longtime opponent, into two categories – sex and racing. Or, Max is a fresh world champion with an increasing alcohol-habit, and now, an image problem. like. they fucking in ch 1, they're bitching by ch 3, the hottest fic with tormented alcoholic max. sign me UP.

ok these two have more than 5k hits BUT i still think they're underrated and would implore EVERYONE to read:

on top of the world (looking down on creation) by eaurouge_sangnoir / @eaurouge-sangnoir | 67.3k words | E

Nothing came close to winning a World Championship. Nothing. Not even sex. Not that Max would know. Or; Max won his first World Championship at the age of twenty-four, still a virgin. He's finally ready to do something about it. On the other side of the hotel room door, there was Charles.

could easily my favorite fic ever. the most beautiful heartbreaking story by an author whose way with the english language is beyond compare. it's hot, angsty, sad, beautiful, i cannot cannot cannot recommend this enough. every chapter so incredible.

balaclava lines by richardmarie75 / @cornerofacry | 10k words (unfinished) | E

"He will never be yours." She freed herself from his hold. Wiped her face with her palms. "Charles. He will never be yours," she continued, gaze traveling to the trophy that stood next to his sim, gargantuan and gold. Blood and sweat in the limelight for a place in the sun. Max stared at her, immobile. or Max and Charles dump their girlfriends and find each other during the winter break. this summary barely scratches the surface of what is truly a breathtaking three chapters. this fic will never leave me. the agony and pain and the desperation and the LOVE the author conveys in such ornate, beautiful ways is beyond words.

#i know no one asked for this but like. Sharing Anyway #i will happily talk on END about these fics #i often see the same fics on lists which is great bc theyre so incredible!! but wanted to mix it up a bit #also i know ppl dont like unfinished fics or unhappy ending fics or WHATEVER but idc. i DO #so. if you enjoy suffering. read these pls #have i conveyed how much i love these yet #fic rec

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joyful-soul-collector · 1 day ago

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It'll Be Fine: Chapter 1

Summary:

It’ll be fine. It didn't have to be bad this time. He could dress as warm as possible, he could start paying to take the tram. It would hurt his wallet but he wouldn't have to be cold for as long. And that was ideal. Anything to stay out of the cold. OR Jayce is terrified of winter. But he has a crush on his lab partner, Viktor. So when Viktor invites him to a winter festival, Jayce decides he can brute force his way through the night, just like he does with everything else.

Tag List: @ihavea-natural-curiosity @milkywaysipper @fangirlshenanigans04 @voxconcordia @beetpatchkids @amiableamos (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list!)

Link to Ao3!

Trigger Warnings: anxiety/phobia/PTSD surrounding the cold and winter

Winter came to Piltover like a shadow. Dark, and silent, blocking out the warm sun’s light. Jayce had been eyeing the skies for a couple weeks now. It'd been a few months since he started his research with Viktor under Heimerdinger's supervision. He loved it so far, he really did. There was something so nice about finally meeting someone who had the same passion and drive for science that he did. He hadn’t realized it was something he was missing before.

But more and more recently, he wished he didn't have to come to the lab. It meant having to walk through the city of Piltover, watching the sky grow darker and feeling the air grow colder every day. Snow had yet to show its ugly face, but it wouldn't be long now.

Well… not anything, not anymore. In years past, there would be days where he was far too terrified to step foot outside, he’d miss classes, miss events, all to avoid what he was certain was a frozen wasteland outside his front door.

But he couldn’t do that this time. Not with so much on the line. Not with Viktor waiting for him at the lab.

He never wanted to miss a day with him.

It’ll be fine.

This is what he thought over and over, as a mantra when he walked out the door and headed to the labs. If he just told himself it’ll be fine, there was no real reason for it to not be fine, right? Even as a chilly breeze blew against his neck, and his hands started to go numb from the cold air. Seeing his breath fog in the air was enough to send his heart pounding but he made it to the lab soon enough to keep his panic at bay.

He must've shut the door to the lab a bit harder than he thought because Viktor looked up at him with a start, pulling up his goggles. His honey-amber eyes looked Jayce up and down analytically, just as they looked at everything in this world.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, it's just freezing out there,” Jayce said, putting on a smile and a laugh. It felt tight on his face and in his throat, like wearing a coat that was too small. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together, walking further into the warmth of the room.

“I suppose so,” Viktor said with a shrug. “It could be colder, I've always liked winter. At least, in Piltover. Winter in the Undercity is miserable.”

“I bet,” Jayce said, putting on another tight laugh, and internally wondering how the hell one could possibly like winter. “What are we working on today?”

“Well the hexgates blueprints need adjusting as the rune combination doesn't seem quite right…”

And with that Jayce soon forgot all about the coming winter outside. It was always easy to forget his worries in the lab with Viktor. He could let his mind be carried away by calculations and theories, and Viktor always helped fan the fire in his heart for science. Viktor himself was always nice to be around too. His mind was nothing short of beautiful.

But as the sun started to go down, Jayce felt the anxiety creep in again. When the sun went down it was colder. Much colder, and he still had to walk home. Normally he'd be fine staying up late, maybe even sleeping in the lab, but… It would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Sleeping in the lab just because he was afraid of the cold? And it was stupid, being afraid of the cold anyway. He can go out, go home, it'll be fine.

Especially if he left before the sun went down. It'll be fine.

Viktor looked up as Jayce began gathering his things.

“Heading out? Already?” he asked.

“Oh--Yeah I-I should probably head home before it gets too dark,” Jayce said, cringing slightly at the shake in his voice. Why did it do that, there's no need for it to do that.

“Oh,” Viktor said, sounding a little disappointed. Jayce’s heart fluttered a little, excited by the idea that maybe Viktor didn’t want him to leave. “Well before you go I meant to ask you something.”

Jayce turned around as Viktor stood up and walked over to him, fishing something out of his pocket. He handed it to Jayce with a smile.

“It is a winter festival,” Viktor said, pointing to the flyer. “It's in a week, I wondered if you might want to attend?”

Jayce swallowed. A winter festival. Of all things. Sure, Jayce had been thinking, rather often, about being with Viktor outside the lab, but a winter festival? The flyer said it went from 6pm to midnight. Booths, food, games, ice sculptures even…

He thought he might be sick. It's okay, he can make up an excuse, maybe his mom is planning something for that night, or Caitlyn needs help with schoolwork, something like that, it would be fine, he could just--

He made the mistake of looking at Viktor's face. Goddammit if he didn't look so hopeful. His amber eyes were so excited, so eager, Jayce had only seen him look like this for the sake of science. Again his heart skipped a beat, knowing that he was looking at Jayce with the expression he normally reserved for arcane discoveries. He really wanted Jayce to come with him, didn't he?

“Sure,” Jayce said, trying his best to match Viktor's excitement. “It sounds like fun!”

Viktor grinned.

“I'm sure it will be!”

Viktor rambled on for a moment or two about the festival, how fun it was, how he’d discovered it his first year living in Piltover and came every year since. His excitement wasn’t enough to quell Jayce’s growing nausea at the idea, but he put on a tight smile again for Viktor’s sake. Eventually, he and Jayce said their goodbyes and Jayce started on his way home, doing his best to beat the sun on the way.

It'll be fine, he thought, trying to ignore the sharp air against his face. He could dress in layers. He could have a warm drink while he's there. There would probably be fires to stand by, he could bring his warmer to press against his chest before he leaves, he could bring gloves, make sure his hands never get too cold. Really, it would be fine.

Jayce thought up this plan and many others as he quickly walked home, making it in the door just as the sun set completely. His hands were numb again, and his chest felt cold from the icy air. He checked over his hands quickly, before shaking them out and walking to the sink, letting his hands run under the warm tap for a moment. He lit a fire under his chimney and set the kettle on the stove before wrapping himself tight in a blanket. He ignored how shaky his breath was, and did his best to forget about the ache in his muscles.

It couldn't get much colder in just a week, right?

#jayvik #jayce #viktor #jayce x viktor #jayvik fanfic #jayvik fanfiction #arcane #jayce arcane #viktor arcane #arcane tv show #arcane league of legends #arcane fanfic

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nalyra-dreaming · 14 hours ago

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*Taps mic* is this on?

Okay good, is it time yet to discuss how unhinged the public was at the "trial" in 2x7?

Laughing at seeing people being in pain??? Even if it was all pretend?

(((Santiago "jokes" are legitimately not funny I get why he never made it as an actor in london)))

Hearing someone say when your partner is depressed and don't want to have sex with you find someone else ( to cheat with) and yelling support? What in the French hell?

Calling death to some random woman who is accused of *checks notes* nothing??? (Madeleine)

There has to be some vampire magic going on bc that "play" was objectively horrible!! I have walked out of a play "to take some fresh air" for less

Good for you then :)

The thing is... people have always been fascinated by morbid plays or witnessing gruesome scenes. Public executions, displays of corpses, you name it.

The theater is based on the "Grand Guignol" (at least in the show), which existed from 1897-1962. Here is a post on the inspiration (more in the tag):

Whether one likes that or not... I mean, Madeleine did not like the theater and its plays either. But a whole lot of other people... did. And do, I'd argue, or else the modern version, namely horror movies and even torture movies would not exist.

People have always tried to face their own fears of mortality this way. Mocking death and pain, in a safe environment.

The difference for us, the audience of the show is here that we know the play... is not a play. And so it is not funny, I absolutely agree.

But the audience in the show? For them it's just entertainment. And entertainment of a kind they explicitly came to see, too.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #theatre des vampires #grand guignol

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ghouljams · 3 days ago

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I’m not sure if you’ve mentioned this before, but another bad thing abt c.ai is the way that users on there treat fanart. I’ve seen a lot of c.ai bot talk on tiktok and Instagram and such and a lot of bots have fanart of the character as the profile picture. Without credit too. So anytime someone says that the users of c.ai shouldn’t be blamed that’s what I think abt… cuz they’re still stealing work themselves

There's a lot of me me me that happens in fandom circles these days. When I was still on tiktok I would see people in the comments under art or fic or comics talking about making a bot out of whatever they'd just seen. Which can feel really harmless in the moment, maybe it doesn't even register to the person who makes the bot that what they're doing is bad, but even if it wasn't directly stealing from the creator it is still poisoning the person who makes/uses the bot.

"Ghoul how is that possible?" I hear you ask.

Well, because of the inherent selfishness of instant gratification. You see something and you want it so you take it. You don't have to wait for anything which decreases your attention span. You can run through getting "exactly what you want" from an ai bot so you don't have to create anything. You don't have to interact with other people to get what you want so communities rise and fall overnight. You don't have to actually think for yourself or find new things that you might enjoy more because the ai just spits out exactly what you tell it to.

You become spoiled by instant gratification so you stop reading fanfiction because the author doesn't update as fast as your ai. You use fanart only as a means towards creating more bots. You don't really care about creators except as content farms because that's all ai is so why wouldn't people be exactly the same?

In a healthy fandom ecosystem, you might see someone made art of Ghost pinning a y/n model to a wall, and think "I wish that was me." So you write an x reader story about it and tag the artist. Or you draw fanart using the pose. Or you leave a comment telling the how much you like their piece. Maybe you make a few friends along the way, or inspire the artist to make a part two, or maybe you learn they have a patreon where they post the real smutty stuff and you find a new community from that one art post.

In the current landscape, you see a picture of ghost pinning a y/n model to the wall on tiktok, the artist is untagged because the tiktoker found the art on google, you think "I wish that was me" so you make a c.ai bot and get a few dopamine hits before the well runs dry and you move on to something else. Nothing is created, no friends are made, you don't even know who the artist is but you don't care because you got your rush already.

idk, it just seems really lonely. Aren't you lonely? When you look at the time that you spend interacting with a machine compared to interacting with people, do you find yourself feeling isolated? When's the last time you hugged someone?

#ghoul speaks #anti ai #honestly are the people who use c.ai any better than the guys that buy sex dolls?#seems the same to me.

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ssa-dado · 5 hours ago

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The Ship of Theseus (prelude)

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort (?), pining - I really do suck at tagging Summary: Never fuck your boss. Never fuck your best friend. And definitely never fuck Aaron Hotchner. But you did anyways. And now you’re left with the post-coital edition of Mr. Practical and all the messy aftermath that came with it. And a makeout too. Apparently the big scary man fell asleep right into your arms. Warnings: It's mentioned that they fucked. Whoops. IDK. In doubt - +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. No actual smut, but it's STEAMYYYYY... way too suggestive. Also, some cuss words here and there. Hotch being a softie. Word Count: 4.1k Dado's Corner: It’s a Chekhov’s gun of Ethics but without the actual gun… unless, of course, we’re talking about Aaron’s GUNSHOTS - oh, wait, there it is! The gun! Aaron’s thick, throbbing GUNSHOTS - oh shit, that’s so cool

masterlist

If there was ever an Olympic event for post-coital efficiency, your dearest friend – and funnily enough – your boss Aaron Hotchner would be taking home the gold.

Truly, what a sight to behold.

One moment, he was wrecking you within an inch of your sanity, and the next - barely a minute later - him and his ridiculously long legs were back in your bedroom, carrying a towel in one hand, a damp washcloth in the other, like the world’s most disciplined housekeeper.

So proper, so effortlessly composed, even now.

Because of course Aaron Hotchner - former prosecutor, Unit Chief, insufferable neat freak - would handle post-coital cleanup like it was just another task on meticulously organized, color-coded to-do list.

Sex: Completed (highly successful, performance rating: exemplary)

Orgasm(s): Confirmed (3, official review pending, though “best orgasm of my life” was strongly implied)

Post-coital hydration: Pending (but water bottle is within retrieval distance)

Aftercare protocol: Initiated (warm washcloth acquired, towel deployment imminent)

Debriefing & emotional processing: Ongoing (mission parameters unclear, subject remains evasive yet sarcastic)

Sheets: Ruined (replacement required, but can be postponed in favor of further activity)

Boss/subordinate ethical violation acknowledgment: Not yet addressed, deliberately ignored

Cuddling: Proposal under review (high-risk scenario)

Exit strategy: TBD (complications may include the inability to leave this bed for the foreseeable future)

And, obviously, you could not let him get away with that.

"Look at you, being all domesticated," you teased, propping yourself up slightly as he walked over.

"Someone has to take care of you," he shot back smoothly, dropping the towel onto the bed and kneeling beside you like this was normal.

Like you weren’t both still bare, still caught in the strange, floating space that existed after.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

The teasing - the constant, insufferable push and pull - was easy. That was your rhythm. That was safe. But this was something else entirely.

Something that left you both a little flustered, a little unsteady.

Even you - you, who could talk your way out of anything, who thrived on throwing him off - found yourself at a loss, your mouth opening, reaching for something to say, for anything that would keep this from feeling like more than what it was.

But then he touched you.

Pressed the warm cloth to your skin with so much care, with so much intent, and whatever sarcastic remark had been forming on your tongue just evaporated.

It wasn’t fair how tender he could be, how his hands - capable of so much control, so much discipline - could be this gentle, this careful. On you.

"You don’t have to do that," you murmured, breathless and barely audible.

"I know," he said simply, his gaze flicking up just long enough to see you before returning to his task. "But I want to."

So you let him. Let him take care of you.

Let yourself watch him, tracing the way his thick brows furrowed with concentration because he wanted to get it just right, the way his jaw tensed and relaxed as he worked, annoyingly meticulous, like this was just as important as everything that had come before it.

Gentle. Steady. Intimate. Intentional.

In a way that made your chest ache.

In a way that made you terrified of what it meant - now that the lust had passed, now that you were both just... here, bare, with nothing but each other.

And especially when he started pressing slow, lazy kisses along your knee, your already-marked thigh, your hip - like he needed to, like he couldn’t help himself, like he wanted to remind you that he had been there, that you were safe with him, even now.

Every second was more devastating than the last.

When he finished, he set the towel aside and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a beat, then another, then another, until he could hear how fast your heart was pounding.

"There," he murmured, lips still brushing against your skin. "All set."

You shook your head, forcing a smile, forcing yourself back to safer ground. "So thorough, Hotchner. Truly, I’m impressed."

His mouth quirked, but apparently, he wasn’t done being insufferably tender, kissing your cheek up next. Wasn’t he just adorable?!

"I aim to please," it was so utterly him it made your stomach flip, but not even more Aaron Hotchner than when, suddenly, he was back to bossing you around in your own home.

"Now, we change the bedsheets, take a shower, and then I’ll see you back here so we-"

And then he stopped. Oh no. Cat got your tongue, bossman?

"We what?" you prompted, raising an eyebrow, watching with unholy satisfaction as the tips of his ears turned red.

He cleared his throat, hesitated in a way that was so unlike him it almost hurt to witness."We… could cuddle. If you want. Or talk. Or whatever you want to do, really. No pressure. I can leave, all you have to do is tell me."

The longer he spoke, the redder he got, his words tripping over themselves, and honestly, it was taking everything in you not to burst out laughing right in front of him.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" you said instead, leaning in to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, hopefully to calm him down – or at least that was your excuse. "Big, scary Aaron Hotchner, suggesting cuddling in the same breath as ‘no pressure.’"

You mocked him, because humbling him was your second nature, and judging by the glare he was giving you, you were winning yet another round. Still, you didn’t want him to just leave. That much was obvious.

He exhaled slowly, gaze steady. "So… what do you want?"

You pretended to think about it, dragging it out just to see that little furrow in his brow deepen.

"Well, I suppose I could settle for cuddling… " you mused, letting your fingers ghost along his shoulders, "but only if you’re the little spoon."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Little spoon?"

Oh, wasn’t it just glorious. 2-0

"My house, my rules," you said smugly. "If you don’t like it, next time we’ll do it at your place, and you can do whatever you want."

And the second the words left your mouth, you definitely wanted to die.

Next time.

As if this was a thing. As if you had even talked about what it was, what this meant. As if you had acknowledged that what you’d just done was completely, wildly, against every rule in the protocol - and common sense as well.

Especially because he was your boss.

"I’m joking, of course," you backtracked quickly, though you felt the heat creeping up your neck.

"Of course," he echoed, but there was something in his expression, something behind his eyes that said he wasn’t entirely convinced, probably because he caught you with your hands in the cookie jar. "This was…"

Great. The talk.

"An accident," you supplied.

"Against protocol," he continued.

No shit, Sherlock.

"Because you’re my boss-"

"We work together," he chimed in, but his voice was softer now, trailing.

"Could cost us our careers," you pointed out, waiting for him to acknowledge it, to confirm the obvious.

"When there’s a pattern of offending behavior," he murmured, almost to himself, slipping into technicalities - because of course he would.

But then - he smirked. Just the slightest tilt of his lips, still – he smirked.

Oh.

And that could only mean one thing.

"A pattern," you echoed, watching him carefully.

And just like that, because he was only a man - logical, brilliant, but still just a man - he reached the same inevitable conclusion you had, just a breath later.

His fingers found yours, intertwining, and it was stupid how calming that simple gesture was.

Or maybe it wasn’t the touch itself but the truth laced between your hands.

Or maybe both.

Or maybe it was just this - how the whole conversation had shifted without either of you stopping it.

It didn’t mean you wouldn’t push and pull anymore. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t still play cat and mouse. You would. Just differently now. With your lips on the other’s skin instead of just grazing the air.

"We’re very good at patterns," he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, pressing a kiss there.

"At recognizing patterns," you corrected, your breath hitching as you tilted your head, catching the corner of his mouth with yours.

"What is a pattern, after all?" His lips moved along your cheek, his hands sliding up your spine, settling against your back.

"A repetition," you answered, barely above a whisper, pressing a kiss just beneath his ear.

"A repetition," he echoed, voice rasping, pressing one to the curve of your jaw.

"Exactly that." You murmured as your fingers traced patterns over his bare shoulders.

"Depending on a series of factors," he continued, shifting slightly, pressing another kiss to your collarbone.

"Such as…?" You exhaled against the bruise you left on his throat.

"Subjects involved," he murmured.

"Location," you supplied.

"A very important factor," he agreed, flashing his intoxicating dimples, nudging his nose against yours.

"Fundamental in analysis," you teased, smiling against his lips.

"If the location changes," he murmured, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to the tip of your nose, "the recognition of the pattern could be…"

You barely heard him, too focused on the way his breath ghosted over your skin, but still - hearing him talk like that, with his voice all low and thoughtful and dangerous, made you shiver.

"Devious," you countered, barely referring to legal theory anymore.

No, he was devious - the way his mouth was just barely touching yours, his hands skimming your sides like he wanted to devour you but was forcing himself to behave.

You've had enough. You tilted your head, catching his lips in a kiss, cutting off whatever legal analysis he thought he was about to give.

"Faulted," he corrected, the words slipping straight into your mouth, delivered onto your tongue by his, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

"You can never be sure…" your voice faltered, swallowed by the way he pulled you flush against his bare body, his fingers digging into the skin of your lower back.

"…if it’s the same pattern," he finished for you, just before his teeth caught your bottom lip, just hard enough to make you gasp.

"Or a copycat," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, feeling completely dizzy, straight-up autopilot - you barely even knew what you’d just said.

Judging by the way he chuckled, though, it was probably nonsense.

No, definitely ridiculous, because now he was repeating it back to you, still grinning, "…A copycat? You’re crazy."

Still, he never looked away.

Right… you definitely weren’t exactly talking about unsubs now.

"So one single act can still be admissible?" you asked, fingers idly tracing over his cheek.

"It was just a little lapse in judgment," he chuckled, but you could already feel the gears turning in that brilliant lawyer’s mind, already bending the rules in real time, looking for the inevitable loophole in the very system you both swore by.

"...At your place," he added, like that alone made all the difference. "And that’s just one location."

You smirked. "Not your apartment."

"To be precise," he murmured, his mouth brushing over yours, "it was just your bed… which means that technically-"

"Technically", you could still fuck each other everywhere else.

"Oh, I love the way your brain works…" you hummed, punctuating your words with another kiss, this time against the sharp line of his jaw. "So… not the shower."

And just like that, it became a game.

A list. A reckless, bucket list.

"The desk," he murmured, and fuck, you had to squeeze your thighs together at that one, trying so hard not to let your brain go there - not to picture which specific desk you wanted him to bend you over, not to imagine the feel of his hands gripping your hips, his voice low in your ear, telling you to keep quiet.

Definitely not the one in his office. No. That would be unethical.

"The kitchen counter," you whispered, voice already a little breathless.

"The floor," he added, lips dragging just beneath your ear, voice husky, teasing, unfair.

"Of all the rooms in this apartment…" you trailed off, tilting his chin just slightly so you could press a slow kiss right between his brows, smoothing away the tiny crease there.

"The couch," he murmured. Low blow.

You bit your lip, because that wasn’t fair, because now all you could think about was straddling his lap, sinking down onto him, rolling your hips while his hands dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you in place, watching you come undone.

You had never wanted to ride a man so badly in your life.

"Against the front door," you suggested next

“The armchair” he added, and okay - so he really wanted you to ride him. Noted.

"The stairs," you countered, throwing something ridiculous just to regain some control.

"We don’t have stairs," he said, lips curving against your skin.

"Fine," you huffed. "The car."

"Backseat or front?" he asked, way too inclined to indulge in your proposal.

"Front if I’m driving," you mused.

He groaned at that, and you took the opportunity to press your advantage, brushing your lips over his throat, smirking against his skin as you felt something become quite… hard.

"My bed," he rasped suddenly, and damn, you knew you were done for the second those words left his mouth.

Because that - that was dangerous. The thought of being wrapped in sheets that smelled like him, tangled up in his warmth, surrounded by the scent of sex and sweat and that insufferable, frustratingly attractive man…

You would not survive it.

"The elevator," you rasped before you could stop yourself.

And that was when he froze - for half a second, you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you. And then-

"Jesus Christ."

"I don’t think that one’s possible, Hotchner.."

Still, his mouth parted, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left, and for a second, you genuinely thought he was about to die right then and there. Would’ve been tragic, really - death by horny legal loopholes debate.

Explain that to Erin Strauss...

But then he groaned, deep and wrecked, dropping his face into your neck like he needed a moment to recover. Maybe he wasn’t going to die just yet.

"The elevator?" he muttered against your skin, muffled, bewildered, like he couldn’t quite believe he was having this conversation.

"The elevator," you confirmed, absolutely shameless.

"Jesus."

"I’d prefer it be just the two of us, if that’s not a problem for you," you deadpanned.

He let out a deep, suffering sigh against your neck, like he was physically restraining himself from debating elevator logistics.

"I don’t even know what to do with you," he muttered.

"I have some ideas."

He exhaled, then lifted his head just enough to look you dead in the eye. "We are never having sex in an elevator."

"That sounds like a challenge."

"That sounds like a lawsuit," he corrected, still so visibly distressed that you could not stop laughing.

"Thought you used to be a good lawyer, Hotchner," you teased, your fingers dragging lazily along his spine. "Wouldn't you know your way around a legal loophole?"

"Oh, I do," he sighed. "I also know how to avoid federal charges."

"You’re truly a prude."

"You're truly reckless," he shot back, eyes closed, mentally revisiting every questionable decision he’d made in the last hour… or maybe the last two…

Honestly, who was even keeping track at this point?

You smirked, shifting until you were draped half over his chest, resting your chin on your folded arms as you gazed at him. "Oh, c'mon, Hotchner, live a little."

His eyes opened just enough to give you a look.

You huffed. "Okay, okay, fine. No elevators. If you really wanna be lame about it."

"Thank you," he said flatly.

A pause. Then, you couldn’t help it. "The jet."

His entire body went rigid. You swore you felt his soul attempt to leave his body.

"The jet?" he repeated, voice hoarse.

You nodded sagely. "The jet."

"Oh my God."

You grinned, slow and so wicked. "Can you imagine it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Small, enclosed space-" you started.

"Oh my God."

"-turbulence, you pinning me against the-"

"No." He cut you off.

You cackled, absolutely delighted by his suffering.

"The team is on that jet," he tried to argue.

"Not always," you countered, ��sometimes Strauss is there too.”

His entire face drained of color. For a solid three seconds, he just stared at you, mouth slightly parted, horror creeping into his very being.

"Get out."

You wheezed, collapsing against his chest, “Of my bedroom?! You can’t really dismiss me here unfortunately for you.”

"I don’t ever want to hear the words sex and Strauss in the same sentence again," he grumbled.

"I believe you just said them yourself, Hotchner"

A slow blink. A deep sigh. He was so close to reconsidering every single choice that had led him to this moment.

And yet-

Instead of answering, he just exhaled, letting his weight sink into you, his forehead dropping onto your shoulder like admitting defeat.

Because you both knew exactly what this was.

A game.

A flimsy, shameless, beautiful excuse to keep doing this - to keep falling into each other, to keep breaking rules and bending logic, to keep pretending it wasn’t something more.

But neither of you said that.

Neither of you needed to.

Instead, you simply thrived in the ineffable, in the space where words didn’t need to be spoken. In the way his body melted on top of yours, drawn to you despite himself, despite the attitude, despite everything.

Because with you, he could just be.

Simply, truly, exist in his truth.

Not Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Not the unshakable leader, not the man who carried the weight of everyone else’s burdens on his back, never allowing himself to falter.

Just Aaron.

The six-foot-two little spoon who swore he wouldn’t be, yet here he was, folded into you like he’d never belonged anywhere else, all because you’d jokingly set it as a condition for him to breathe this close to you.

At least, that’s what you told him.

But in reality a part of you wanted this.

A part of you wanted the man who always stayed close – from the victims, to the UnSubs, and everyone he cared about, always making sure he was the one who bore the weight so no one else had to - to have someone stay close for him.

To let him know what it felt like to be held.

Because the thought had been lingering at the edges of your mind for far too long now - unwelcome, unavoidable -

If he was there to protect everyone, who was there to protect him?

Not that you were volunteering. Not like that.

Actually if you said it out loud, he’d probably just laugh at you, and use that damned dry humor of his and tell you “How can you protect me if you can barely shoot?”

And you’d laugh, you’d tease him right back - and nothing would change.

But you knew the truth - you’d been his anchor for the past decade.

And so your fingers traced idle patterns along his back, thoughtlessly, feeling the tension unwind from his muscles, bit by bit, until there was nothing left but the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest against yours.

"You’re warm," he murmured after a while, rasping at the edges, making your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to think too hard about.

"You’re a bit heavy," you murmured, lips quirking slightly.

"Mhm." But he didn’t move, didn’t even try.

You smiled to yourself, dragging your fingers gently through his short hair, feeling the strands slip between them, coarse and slightly mussed.

"You don’t have to do that," he said softly against your skin.

"I know," you whispered, your hand still smoothing over his back, still holding him close, like you weren’t fooling either of you. "But I want to."

A pause. A deep breath.

Then-

"Thank you," he sighed, pressing a barely-there kiss to your shoulder, too tired to move, too tired to do anything but exist against you.

Just holding each other.

Just existing in the same space, in the same breath, with no expectations, no pressure, no future to consider beyond the feel of his heartbeat against yours.

"You know, there’s a philosophical dilemma called the Ship of Theseus-" you started, your voice a gentle hum in the quiet, earning a small huff from him in response.

"It questions whether an object remains fundamentally the same if all of its components are replaced over time. If every original part is gone, is it still the same thing? Because technically, it’s not… if identity is tied to its physical components and not something more abstract, like function or form."

You felt the slow, subtle curve of his lips against your shoulder.

"Which brings us to," you added, lips curving now too, " is this even the same bed if we just change the sheets? On some criteria, following this logic… it isn’t."

A beat.

No reply.

Just the steady, even sound of his breathing.

And - oh.

Oh.

He’d fallen asleep on you. Mid-philosophy. Unbelievable.

Great. So apparently, you were the boring one now. Perfect.

But before you could dwell too much on your bruised ego, he stirred, mumbling something barely coherent against your skin.

"Mmmh… we change the sheets… shower… come back here and-"

“’And’ what?” You sighed, your fingers still lazily running through his hair. “Aaron, you sound like a low-battery version of yourself.” You huffed a laugh, shaking your head.

"M'practical," he slurred, as if that was a valid argument.

"You’re half-asleep."

"Still practical," he muttered.

"If you move, I’ll take care of the sheets. You go shower," you offered, voice quiet, fond.

He barely responded, just a low, unintelligible grumble against your collarbone before-

"Mm-mm… we don’t… shower together?”

You sighed. Of course that was where his sleepy brain went.

"Will we just shower?" you asked, knowing full well he wouldn’t have the energy for anything else.

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice barely above a whisper-

"What if we don’t?" he muttered, already half-asleep. "S’not against the rules…"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Aaron-"

"The ship… applies to your shower too…" his words trailed off lazily, completely nonsense, but you could hear the hint of a smile in them. "If you replace the soap… ‘s a different shower…"

Well, at least even in his on-the-brink-of-unconsciousness state, he was committed to following through with your logic...

"I’m saying this for your own good, Hotchner, because you really don’t have the energy for another round."

"I do," he grumbled, shifting, his arms tightening around you like you had to believe him.

"Sure," you murmured, kissing his forehead. "I’ll believe that when you make it to the bathroom without falling asleep in the doorway."

He made a low, unintelligible noise, like he wanted to argue, but his body had already betrayed him, too heavy, too settled against you.

"Go," you whispered, nudging him gently.

A deep sigh. Then-

"Fine."

He peeled himself off you with the effort of a man being dragged out of bed by force, his body moving like it was actively resisting him.

You bit back another laugh as he stumbled toward the bathroom, catching himself on the doorframe for just a second before disappearing inside.

And, of course-

When you finished your own shower and stepped quietly back into the bedroom, he was already collapsed against the bed, completely dead to the world.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment you eased yourself into bed, trying your best to be quiet, he shifted -

One sleepy, instinctive movement.

And suddenly, his arms were wrapping around you without thinking, his body curling into yours, his head tucking against the crook of your neck, snuggling.

Clingy.

"Annoying little spoon," you muttered.

You felt a muffled hum against your skin. "Next time… we switch."

You sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, letting your fingers drift through his hair one more time. "Go to sleep, Aaron."

He sighed against your skin, warm and content, the weight of him only settling deeper into you.

"Mmm. ‘M already sleepin’…" he murmured, words barely holding together.

A beat.

Then, even softer-

"You should too… two hours ‘til work."

Oh, he just could not help himself - spent a full minute reminding you, over and over, that you just fucked your boss.

Damn it, Aaron. At least he could try to pretend...

"Actually, it’s one and a half." you bit back.

A pause.

Then-

"Shit."

Shit indeed.

Phi's Corner: BOTTOM HOTCH RIGHTS!!!!!!!! Also don't worry filthy goyals, you will be fed with some actual smut tomorrow. And probably some context too... maybe?!?! hope you enjoyed this anyways...

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #symposiumff #aaron hotchner smut

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ur-local-wizard · 3 hours ago

Note

I love the way you write baby, can you honour me with this prompt idea: Mattheo Riddle loses a Quidditch match against his biggest rival, and his anger boils over. Dragging his girlfriend into the locker room, he takes out his frustration on her in a heated, rough moment of intimacy. Afterward, he leaves her shaken to vent elsewhere, but when he returns, he finds her being comforted by his rival. Jealousy and fury take over as he drags her away, scolding her and accusing her of betrayal—though beneath his anger is a fear he’s not ready to admit: that he might’ve pushed her too far this time.

Losing Game

tysm for the request babes!! this was sooo creative! hope you enjoy, it was my first time writing angst 🤭

mattheo riddle x fem!reader, extremely toxic behavior, mentions of sex, characters are of age, i think that's it

w/c: 1106

masterlist

a/n: if there are any tags I missed, pls pls pls let me know!! also, I wasn't sure if i should label it nsfw in my masterlist or not, so if you think it should be tell me and I'll change it!

Angry sex with Mattheo was something you were used to, especially after he lost a quidditch game. Everyone knew he had a temper, and even as his girlfriend, you were not immune to it. But he’s never been so hurtful. Not like this.

The physical part of it was good, as per usual, but his words struck a deeper chord than normal. The names he called you, the blatant disregard for your feelings, the way his touch felt oppressive instead of loving – it was strange, and honestly overwhelming.

So that’s how you got here, curled up in the fetal position just outside the quidditch locker room. You barely noticed the muffled sound of footsteps approaching you on the grass. Blinking back more tears, you look up, not expecting to see the Gryffindor Cormac McLaggen of all people. He was one of many on the long list of people Mattheo hated most, and you knew that if your boyfriend saw him of all people in his current tempered state, someone would end up in the hospital wing.

“You okay?” Cormac asked, crouching in front of you. His tone was softer than you would expect, laced with nothing short of concern and pity. He reached out, and you flinched as his hand brushed your arm. “You’re freezing. Come, let’s get you inside. I don’t want you to contract hypothermia.”

The warmth of his hand sent a wave of guilt through you, and the combination of your confusion and his touch made you flinch away. He’s right – it’s so cold your fingers are going numb. You weren’t sure if it was the weight of your emotions, your exhaustion, or the sheer cold, but you felt your defenses crumble, allowing him to pull you up and off the ground.

Then the locker room door opened.

Out walked Mattheo, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His hair was disheveled, his jaw set like stone. His gaze flicked between you and Cormac, his eyes burning with fury.

“What the fuck is going on here?” He snapped, his voice low and full of nothing but rage and resentment. You opened your mouth to speak, but he roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his side, effectively cutting you off. Your stomach churned, and the emotions swirling inside your gut made you want to puke.

“You think this is okay?” He scolded you, his gaze narrowing into a glare. “The hell are you doing with this piece of shit?” He motioned to Cormac, scoffing. “And you, what are you doing with my girlfriend?”

“Mattheo, stop-” Your voice trembled as you began to talk, but the bitter laugh that escaped his lips cut you off.

“Don’t even try to explain,” he sneered, his grip so tightening so much it may leave a bruise. His expression was still angry, but something seemed off. Beneath the anger in his eyes, you saw a flicker of something else – something raw. Afraid, maybe. “I leave for five fucking minutes and come back to find you cozying up with Cormac fucking McLaggen.”

His words hit harder than expected, making the nausea in your stomach only grow stronger. “You’re being ridiculous,” you said, voice quiet but filled with hurt. You pressed your lips together and fought the urge to cry again.

“Ridiculous? You don’t get to decide that after this little stunt you just pulled.”

Cormac crossed his arms over his chest, his expression solemn. “Maybe if you treated her better and paid attention to her obvious distress, she wouldn’t be crying out here in the cold,” he retorted.

The room seemed to freeze at his words. Mattheo’s head snapped toward Cormac, his eyes dark and burning. The tension in the air was suffocating, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Mattheo hissed.

“I know enough,” Cormac shot back, unwavering. “I know she shouldn’t be out here like this. She could get sick!”

Mattheo’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like his teeth could grind together into dust. For a moment, it looked like he was going to punch Cormac – he certainly wanted to – and the suspense made you even dizzier than before. But instead, he turned his glare back to you. “Get up. Let’s go.” It wasn’t a question, and you could tell by the tone of his voice it was more of an ultimatum. Stay here, and you would lose him.

You hesitated, jaw opening and closing, unsure what to say. You didn’t want to fight. Not again. Not when your body already ached from more than just the physicality of what had just conspired in the locker room. So, even after all the hurt he’s caused, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. He just looked so betrayed, so afraid.

“Okay,” you conceded, voice barely a whisper. Cormac scoffed, but you didn’t dare look his way as your boyfriend grabbed your wrist again and led you away, his footsteps crushing the grass beneath his feet. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm – as if he was afraid that if he let go, you’d disappear.

The journey was silent as he dragged you to an empty corridor. The moment the two of you were alone, he spun to face you, his chest rising and falling rapidly with labored breaths.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.

“Do what?” You asked, brows furrowing.

His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you. “Sitting with him. Letting him touch you. Letting him look at you like – like that.”

You stared at him, disbelief bubbling up past the lingering hurt. “Mattheo, do you even hear yourself? I was sitting there because of you. Because of what you did.”

He looked shocked, but that quickly faded as he realized what you were talking about. He lowered his eyes to the ground, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed his shame. He looked like he wanted to argue, to push back like he always did in situations like this, but something in his expression told you he knew he would finally lose you if he did. For the first time, he looked unsure.

“Do you even care that you hurt me?” You asked, voice softer now, but still full of lingering hurt. In response, his whole body tensed. A long silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Then, barely above a whisper, so low you almost missed it, he muttered, “I do.”

It wasn’t an apology – not yet. But you knew it was as close as you were going to get for now.

Ty again for this request!! I had sm fun writing it! Sorry it took me so long to write, life and school is insane rn

taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch @valenftcrush @sturniolover13 @paankhaleyaaar @thereeallink @voidangxls

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

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my-debauchery · 7 hours ago

Text

Nothing.

idol!yuta × afab!reader

g`fluff, smut

cw`dom!yuta, sub!reader, crossdressing, kissing, spitting, facefucking, cumeating(f&m), oral(f. & m.), mommy kink, slapping, unconsciousness (all is consensual), squirting, explicit content, unprotected sex, fingering

wc`3.2k

A/N:this was somewhat inspired by "Nothing On Me" by Kai. as always, constructive criticism is more than welcome. if you see mistakes in cw tagging, please, let me know.

you were seating at the dressing table, trying to properly curl your hair for the evening ahead. getting hotter by the minute from the effort and the heat of the iron.

as you finished the last strand of hair and pinned it up to cool, you lift your eyes up and see yuta in the reflection staring at you 'can you please open the window? i want to cool down before doing my makeup' you smiled and turned to face him.

yuta silently moves towards your bed and places his bag on it. he fulfills your request and you relish in the icy air filling the room.

you thank him and turn back to the mirror. you hear yuta approaching you while you're rummaging in your makeup drawer. he places his hands on your shoulders and you look up at him once again.

he gives you a unreadable look and kneels next to you. you start turning towards him, but he stops you. so you keep looking at each other though the mirror.

'would you mind doing my makeup too?' he asks you somewhat hesitantly 'sure' you say as you continue to look through your makeup collection again 'but i hope you understand that i never did male makeup, so it might look a bit strange. also i probably won't be able to do your skin, our shades don't match' you tease him.

'you didn't understand me' you hear 'huh?' you meet his eyes full of worries 'what do you mean then?' you inquire. he gets up and brings over his bag over to you.

he opens it up and takes stuff out places them onto the table 'i ordered this and hoped you would do my makeup how you do yours. female style, you know? i even got a foundation in my shade' he shows you a bottle of it and places it back on the table 'i also got a matching dress to yours for me to wear for our date'

'you want me to do your makeup like for a woman and to wear a dress for our date?' you ask carefully. your boyfriend just nods weakly.

yuta watches you get up and quickly go to the bathroom and the dread starts to sink in. he was terrified of what he presumes is happening right now. that you going to be horrified and want to leave him. that so far things were far too good to be true. that you were too accepting, easygoing and he crossed the line.

it was one thing to have kinks and introduce som/sub dynamics into the relationship, far easier to learn and adjust to. but completely other when your boyfriend wants to dress like a woman, who would want that?

yuta was trying to come up with something, anything to calm you down and convince you to not leave him. but after hearing some noise from the bathroom, he saw you waltz back into the bedroom with giddiness and a fluffy kuromi hairband in your hands.

'do you have a specific look in mind or do you want me to freestyle it? or as we going to have matching dresses, do you want to have matching makeup looks? to go all out?' you question while looking through the products he bought.

he grabs your hand 'you don't mind?' he asks and looks inquisitively at you. you look confused and he clarifies 'about me wearing feminine makeup and woman's clothes? that i want us to go out like that together, publicly?'

you giggle and answer 'no. i don't care in what form you come, yuta. your core doesn't change, even if you're a shapeless blob. i know that i love you and you love me, what else could possibly matter? as for the publicity aspect, i only worry that someone might recognize you, but i can try to make you unrecognizable. power of makeup and all that jazz, you know? also we go out at midnight on a walk, so we should be fine' you finish and hold his face gently.

he nods 'thank you. with you i truly feel like i'm alive for the first time' you lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the lips with a wide toothy grin 'now, do you want a full fantasy of a makeup shop experience?'

yuta laughs 'no. i've had plenty of that. i want a fantasy of my girlfriend doing my makeup. preferably while sitting on my lap' he sits down and pulls in to straddle him.

you snort and ask if he has any reference pictures for his look. he shows you different gothic style makeup looks and tells you to do what you think would look best. he relaxes and circles you waist with his arms. so you get to work.

once you're done you hold up a mirror so yuta can see himself 'do you like it? i must say, i think i've outdone myself. you look like a goth baddie'you get up to put away his stuff and a thought hits you 'oh my god! i'll do my makeup like an insta baddie and we can be 2 baddies, just no porsche' you laugh and look up a reference for yourself.

suddenly yuta hugs you from the back and whispers into the nape of your neck 'i love it, thank you' you smile 'go get changed and i'll do my makeup in the meantime, okay?' he nods and walks off.

you do your makeup and let down your curls. you brush them out and spray on your favorite perfume after changing into your own dress. you go to the leaving room in search of yuta, but once you see him, you are speechless.

he is wearing a satin midnight blue slip dress with strings that can shorten it on both sides, a fluffy black cardigan and a glossy black butterfly shaped hair clip on one side 'how do i look? it's not too much, right?' he asks and you shake your head like a dummy.

'you don't look like a baddie. you look like a mommy' you say almost in a trance. yuta looks at your glazed eyes and scoffs 'misbehave and i'll punish you like one' you feel a hot rush and blur out without thinking 'yes, mommy' yuta gives you a warning look and you try to calm yourself down.

you both get your shoes and coats on and head out of the apartment. while standing in the elevator yuta holds your hand and intertwines your fingers. he squeezes it slightly 'remember to behave. you are my good girl, right?' you nod enthusiastically and he kisses your cheek.

you spend next hour just walking around enjoying pretty snowfall and each other's company. but you can't really look at anything except your lovely boyfriend, fantasizing about him taking you in the dark alleyway while calling him mommy or letting him use your mouth.

but you know good things will come to those who wait and you could wait for eternity if it meant waiting for him. you are his good girl after all.

you're nearing your apartment complex and you feel a craving for something sweet, so you pull yuta towards a convince store 'do you want me to give you a face mask?' yuta thought for a moment and shakes his head. he gives you his card 'go get yourself a treat. i'll wait here' you take it and go inside.

you book it straight for your favorite and move to the front to pay 'what a lovely pair you two are' cashier, an old woman mentions, you look up at her in alarm 'what?'

she smiles 'your sister and you. sure your sister's style is a bit unconventional, but i mean she is still beautiful' you smile and relief washes over you, and when a naughty thought pops in 'it's my mommy' you smile even wider 'mommy?' cashier glances outside at yuta again, who now is watching you.

'doesn't she look grate? she still buys me sweet treats, even though i'm all grow up now' you say and swipe yuta's card 'does she? i guess you have a great mommy, don't you?' smile again 'i do. she is the best. have a good night' you step outside and meet yuta's suspicious gaze.

'what did you talk about? you looked worried for a moment? is everything alright?' he tries to look into your eyes, but you avoid his eyes and just munch on your sweet treat 'nothing' you say nonchalantly.

at least you think you said that nonchalantly, but to yuta you look pleased and there is a mischievous twinkle in your eyes once you turn to him. he knows you lying, but he'll let you have your treat for now.

once you approach the buildings entrance, yuta asks you again 'still i'm interested, what were you talking about with the cashier? hmm' he looks up ahead and you know from his tone, that if you don't fess up you'll be in trouble.

hesitantly you tell him during your elevator ride up 'good girl' he tells you while caressing your check. foolishly you relax and happily skip to the front door of the apartment.

however, the mood shifts drastically once the door closes and it pings locked.

yuta pushes you against the mirror hanging next to the front door. your forehead is touching it's cold surface while yuta cages you from behind. one of his arms is circling you, preventing your movement, while the other is covering and lightly squeezing the lower half of your face 'did you think that you were being funny?'

he stares you down in the mirror and you shake your head 'did you think at all before opening your mouth?' he spoke in to your left ear. you shook in his grasp. you start overheating from your coat and yuta's close proximity, but an undeniable feeling of arousel starts to creep.

he turns you around gripping you face again and your shoulder 'maybe you should use your mouth for something better then risky smalltalk' he releases you and starts taking his coat off 'strip.

you move at the speed of lightning throwing clothes all around, while yuta gracefully takes off everything except the dress. you stand there naked shaking like a leaf, not from nerves but from the sheer desire for your boyfriend to have you.

'kneel.' you gently lower yourself right there and look up at him. yuta is towering over you in all his glory. you can see his dick bulging up underneath the dress and the visual makes you squeeze your thighs together.

'open up' he gently holds your chin and you stick your tongue out. he lets his spit slowly drip down into your mouth, all the while holding your gaze.

he lets go of your face and you remain in the same position. yuta lifts his dress up, revealing his fully hard dick and ties strings on one side.

you start by spreading his spit all over with your tongue and gently massaging his balls. you suck on his tip and keep massaging him. after couple sucks you start taking half of him in. going up and down his shaft, flattening your tongue on down motion and licking at top without releasing the tip from your mouth, while still massaging his balls with your hands.

yuta is grunting lowly above you. his left hand is on your head massaging your scalp 'you are doing so well. i know this is all you could think about during our walk. probably something even dirtier, like me fucking you in the back alleyway. and if i wanted to you'd let me, right? you are truly my good girl. good, but dirty and downright depraved little girl, aren't you?' you hum happily and take his dick all the way down.

your nose is pressing against his belly and you squeeze his balls harder and start humming to create a vibration' oh, shit! hold on baby' and you let go of him. you place your hands on his thighs and relax your throat even farther.

yuta grabs your head with both hands and starts fucking your mouth without holdbacks. you breath through your nose and let yourself be completely consumed by him. he goes at a brutal pace and tears foarm in your eyes. you can feel your pussy pulsating and you squeeze your thighs even harder. tears stream down and you can't see anything. you just feel.

he starts growling on top of you and somehow go even faster 'is this what you wanted, huh? for mommy to punish you? am i not giving you enough attention, so you misbehave for me to notice you? are you such a desperate little slut, hmm?'

yuta fully stops and keeps you pressed all the down and starts cuming down your throat. you feel lightheaded. fully enveloped by his smell and taste. you close your eyes and let go of his legs 'look at me. don't you remember? mommy wants you to always look in her eyes' you look at him and start shaking like a dog in heat. his eyes are full of raw desire to fully consume you.

and yuta sees the same in yours.

once he's done cumming he lets go of your head and gently ease you of himself. you lay down on your back breathing heavily. yuta squats in front of you and nudges your legs appart. he swipes his hand against your pussy and lifts it up for you to see. as he spreads his fingers appart, you can see your arousel stringing between them.

you start to turn to get on all fours but yuta stops you 'go to your place'

"your place" is a pool of soft blankets and pillows. placed next to the floor length mirrors in the leaving room he set up in his apartment for you. all because you enjoy to just look out the window at night while listening to the music. or lay around there waiting for him to come back home. all the blankets and pillows are in your favorite colors and designs, just for you.

you stretch your arms towards him to help you get up, but he shakes his head and gates up by himself 'crawl.' you don't need to be told twice and get moving. slowly crawling to the windows, acutely aware of his heavy gaze on you.

once you make it, you turn around and look at him, but he is right behind you. the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and of your labored breaths prevented you hearing his movements.

he manhandles you into a mating press and you grab the back of your things. you expect him to fuck you now, but to your horror he slowly lowers his face towards your vagaina. you knew that you are in for a wild ride now and that being naughty is not for you.

yuta speards your pussy lips apart and spits on it. you feel it pool and drip down to your anus. he blows on it and you shudder from the temperature change.

he starts to gently massage spreading mixture of your arousel and his spit all around. from your pubic mound down to your ass without touching your clit. you start to shake from the anticipation, knowing he won't be calm and gentle for long.

you hear the sound of the slap first and the sting comes after. he slapped your clit and you whined. he slapped it again and again. you just keep on whining and sniffling. after several slaps you see that you pussy is all red and puffy. yuta dives right in.

you can't focus on any one thing in particular. you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. your skin is slippery from the sweat and it's hard to hold your legs pressed to your chest. and most overwhelming is yuta's devouring of your sipping heat.

he looks almost mad. his freshly dyed hair a mess. face all red and glistening with your release. and a stare of a rabied dog that is feeding for the first time in forever. he is looking straight at your and amid all the pleasure you feel almost shy.

but then he plunges three fingers in your fluttering hole and you forget all about it. while his tongue is lapping at your clit at an inhumane speed, his fingers play with your g-spot agonizingly slow. as you started to seize up yuta started to jab his fingers at it and suck on your clit with fool force.

the familiar pressure starts to build and then white, hot flush takes over you as you squirt into yuta's mouth.

your grip on your legs slips. yuta grabs your legs and pushes. you completely lose it and just shake from cumming and overstimulation, because yuta didn't let up and continued lapping up your juices and sucking on your pussy.

you come around and feel yuta's head still stuck between your thighs. both of you on your sides with you facing the window, looking over the night cityscape.

another orgasm hits you and you moan long and loud. you can feel just how soar you are. yuta turns you onto your back and kneels between your outstretched legs.

you can see your juices dripping down his chin, neck and onto his chest. his makeup completely ruined with mascara runs like in classic rom-com and lipstick gone. he is fully naked and hard. you manage to whisper out 'dress?'

'it got all sticky so I took it off. how do you feel?' he questioned as he lifted you up to a sitting position 'soar and empty' you can see that he cumed all over the blanket 'won't mommy feel me up?' you croacked out and batted your lashes.

yuta chuckles and nodes 'of course ,my good kitten deserves it. after all you did so well' he wipes hair away from your face and kisses your forehead.

he lays down and pulls you on top of him. first you kneel to straddle him, but he pulls you flush against him while keeping your legs in a kneeling position.

yuta carefully enters you, keeping in mind your soar body. once you're down to a hilt you both sigh in relief. he plants his feet on the floor and gently starts rocking into you.

he is slow and deliberate with his strokes. pleasure comes in waves, like you're laying on the shore with warm waves washing over your body again and again.

you both circle each with your arms 'you're my lovely puppy, aren't you? you always do so well for me. even if you're naughty you take your punishment like a champ. my little cutie. you are ready for me to fill you up?' you nod into his chest and let go of your own release.

you feel his warm seed fill you and all consuming bliss takes over your entire being. it spreads from your stomach all over like a liquid sunshine.

while basking in your afterglow you ask yuta 'can you keep your dress on next time?' he thinks for a moment 'can't make any promises'

'why not?' he turns you by you chin to face him, his eyes are full of devotion 'i want nothing on me but you'

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