#(only the first time i talked to him to be exact)

[sturnsbae]

SPIN YOU AROUND - JACK HUGHES

summary: you and jack have been best friends since childhood. you’ve both always had suppressed feelings for one another, but when you suddenly become a country music fan, he finds his chance to actually confess.

warnings: use of y/n & underage drinking, not proofread sorry if there’s typos or mistakes :)

wordcount: 3.4k

—

for as long as you can remember, you’ve been best friends with the hughes brothers.

your moms were best friends in high school, and they always talked about their kids being friends growing up. your mom only ended up having one child, but it worked out perfectly seeing that she had a girl and ellen had three boys. despite her best friend playing it, your mom never cared much for hockey. but ellen made sure to have her sons teach you how to skate and how to understand the game. this led to your winter breaks always being spent playing pond hockey in a 2v2 game against the boys, which you wouldn’t have changed for the world.

you and jack are the same age, and this always made you two closer. maybe it was because you two somehow always ended up with the same elementary school teachers, or the fact that you two have the exact same humor, or maybe the fact that you guys have always had mutual friends. It doesn’t matter; he was your best friend, and you were his. although, you both took very different routes when you turned 18. he went straight to the nhl while you began college at penn state. you’re nineteen now, and so is jack. it’s finally the summer after your first semester, and you haven’t seen the boys since winter break.

as you and your parents enter the front door of your guys’ shared lake house, you smile at the familiar smell of ellen’s homemade cookies. “god it smells good in here!” you exclaim, making your presence known. “hey! you guys made it!” quinn smiles as he walks over from the dining room table towards you guys. being the gentleman that he is, he embraces your mother in a hug before anyone. luke quickly jumps off of the couch and runs over, picking you up slightly as he embraces you in a warm hug. your laughter fills the room as luke puts you down back on your feet.

“i swear, you get taller every time i see you,” you chuckle, making luke roll his eyes with a smile.

“maybe you’re just shrinking, y/n,” he shrugs before walking over to hug your parents. quinn walks over to you with a smile and gently hugs you, unlike his youngest brother. you say your hellos to jim and ellen as your dad and quinn bring in the suitcases. you furrow your brows and turn to luke, “where’s jack?” you ask.

“i think he’s in the shower, he should be out soon though,” luke shrugs before looking back down at his phone with a smile. of course, he’s probably texting a girl from school. you chuckle to yourself before walking to your room to settle in. as you walk past the shared bathroom between you, jack, and luke, you hear the shower running and muffled country music playing through the door.

you begin unpacking your suitcase, your door left open just slightly enough so that you can see the hallway. as you’re unfolding clothes, the sound of the bathroom door opening catches your attention. you look up and see jack walking out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist. clearly, he has no idea that you’re home yet.

you can’t help but stare for a second… when did his back muscles get so toned?

you immediately shake your thoughts and continue unfolding your clothes. about three or so minutes later, there’s a gentle knock on the door. you look up and see jack in the door frame with his usual smirk-like smile.

“thought you could come home and not say hi to me?” he questions, making you roll your eyes and jump off the bed to wrap the boy in a hug. his arms wrap your smaller frame in a tight hug, his body still damp from the shower and the smell of his body wash emitting off of him.

“how’ve you been, dork?” he asks, walking in your room and sprawling out on your bed. you sit down criss cross by his feet, organizing your bikini tops to their matching bottoms.

“i’ve been good! how’s the nhl life?” you tease.

“eh, i’ve been playing alright. i’m kinda offended you haven’t been to a game since my debut, though,” he jokes, raising one eyebrow.

you groan in response, “i know, im sorry. schools been so insane. i have so much to do for my sorority, i have like a million sporting events to go to, and i have so many tests too… i just haven’t found the time. next season ill be at more games, i promise” you smile.

“hey, it’s okay, i’m just messing with you, y/n/n. i know you’re a busy girl, being all studious or whatever,” he chuckles before looking down at his phone. you two then sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as you finish unpacking.

—

you’ve done a lot of catching up with ellen and jim, all 8 of you sitting in the living room discussing the causal things. your mom and ellen spill their adult-life gossip, as if they don’t talk every day and meet for lunch once a week, while your dads talk about god knows what. you and quinn chirp luke about whoever he’s been texting, while jack is more focused on whatever video game he’s playing on his phone.

“jack, do you think you could go get us some pizza for dinner?” ellen asks, the room going quiet and the attention now falling onto jack.

“ugh, why can’t quinn go!” jack questions. ellen laughs, “you’re the one who insisted on bringing your jeep! you brought your car, which you never let anyone else drive, so now you have the duties of getting us dinner.”

“fine,” he groans before turning to look at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. you sigh loudly and stand up dramatically, “fine, i’ll come with you.” he grins cheesily as he grabs his keys and twirls them in his fingers on the way out to his car.

“can i have aux, pleaseeee,” you beg, making your hands look like you’re praying and giving him puppy dog eyes. he rolls his eyes and hands you his phone, “no stupid shit or ill take it back.”

jack is a country guy through and through, which you’ve never really gotten into, so you two tend to fight a lot about music. of course there are some songs and genres that you two both like, but when you put on some morgan wallen, jack looks at you like you just told him you killed someone.

“what the fuck? you- you’re- you’re willingly playing country music?!” he exclaims as he turns to look at you with a shocked expression. you have a shit eating grin on your face, “yeah, my roommate actually got me into it. i don’t know how, but she did.”

jack feigns a look of sadness, “oh, so some random girl you meet at college can get you into country, but the kid who’s been trying to get you to listen to it for like 12 years can’t?!”

you throw your head back laughing, “hey! in my defense, i was never stuck in a small room for an entire semester of college with you. of course i got her into some taylor swift though, don’t you worry. it’s only fair,” you shrug. he rolls his eyes at you jokingly before mumbling something about how you’re a fake friend, causing you to hit his arm playfully.

—

after dinner passes and the parents settle in for a movie night, you and the boys head outside for the annual first-night fire pit and beers, which started when you and jack were about 17. you and jack grab the s’mores ingredients while luke and quinn set up the fire pit. you take your seat around the fire, with luke and quinn sat across from you and jack on your right. quinn then hands everyone, even luke, a beer, making you chuckle.

“aww, lukeys first beer at the fire pit with us,” you fawn, making everyone laugh. “okay okay shut up,” the younger boy groans, his cheeks turning faintly florid with embarrassment.

“so, mrs party girl, tell us how college has been,” quinn says, roasting his marshmallow to perfection. you blush faintly at the sudden attention, humming a little as you think of what to start with. “well, my sorority is great. i love my roommate too, she’s like my best friend now. no offense jack, you’re still important i swear,” you chuckle, turning to look at jack. he flips you off before letting you continue to talk about your first semester.

“oh and, this shook jack to his core, but my roommate got me into country music. i don’t know how, im seriously convinced she put a spell on me or something, but she succeeded.”

luke’s eyes widen, “you like country now?! you used to swear up and down that you hated it!” he exclaims.

“i know! i know, but somehow she got me into it. or well, at least morgan wallen, that’s it. some country artists music i still can’t stand, i promise,” you laugh.

“i feel like this deserves a toast or something, because now we can finally listen to country on the boat without any complaints from her,” jack teases. everyone holds up their beer and takes a sip, before continuing on with the conversation. about an hour passes and the sun is completely down as you all still laugh loudly, faces illuminated by the orange glow of the fire.

you yawn, snuggling further into your sweatshirt. which is actually one of jacks old sweatshirts from high school. the logo is somewhat faded and cracked now due to how often you wear it, but he doesn’t need to know that. “you tired?” jack asks you, leaning over his chair slightly to talk to you.

you nod slowly, a telltale sign that you’re about to fall asleep. he sets down his beer and stands up, reaching out his hands for you to grab. you sigh and take his hands in yours as he helps you up. “i’m gonna take this one to bed. i can tell she’s had too many beers,” he chuckles.

“i have not!” you protest, your worlds slurred ever so slightly. jack just chuckles and walks you inside as quinn and luke are left to clean up the mess.

“they’re bound to get together one day, right?” luke asks his eldest brother.

“man, i hope so. im tired of this whole, ‘she’s just my best friend’ act. dude is whipped,” quinn shrugs. meanwhile, jack is sitting on the bathroom counter while you take off your makeup.

“you what?!” he exclaims.

“i kissed a random frat guy at a mixer with my sorority. it’s not that big of a deal jack!” you laugh, and jack just shakes his head. honestly, he would be lying if this didn’t make him feel oddly jealous. he’s so used to always knowing the guys that are involved in your love life. like for example, he was there during the alcohol induced game of truth or dare where you were dared to kiss trevor. you guys were 16 and drunk, so of course it never bothered jack. but now, he feels a weird pang of jealousy knowing that you’ve kissed another guy and he’s never even met him.

despite the fact that you’ve never talked to the frat guy since the kiss happened, jack still finds himself laying in bed scrolling through his instagram. “jesus christ, why don’t my abs look like that?” he mumbles to himself, quickly realizing how dumb he must seem right now. he puts his phone down and sighs.

this is gonna be a long summer.

—

the next morning is filled with laughter as the parents cook up breakfast, while you and the boys sit at the table with a deck of cards, playing your favorite game, BS.

“bs!” you call out as quinn puts down his alleged ‘two-fours,’ which you know is false because you literally have three fours in your stack. he groans in defeat as he takes the pile of cards, “you’re too good at this game. it’s no fun playing with you,” he whines, making everyone laugh.

“maybe you’re just a shit liar,” you shrug. as if on queue, the food is placed down in front of you guys as the parents take their seats. you all make your plates, of course the boys grab the most out of everyone. you chuckle looking at the two pancakes and two pieces of bacon on your plate, compared to jacks which has four pancakes and five pieces of bacon, along with a heavy stack of scrambled eggs.

“greedy much?” you chuckle, nudging jack slightly. he flips you off as he stuffs his face with food. a muffled, “i’m a growing boy, i can’t help it!” falls from his lips, making everyone chuckle.

after breakfast is finished, your guys’ parents go out for the day, leaving you all to fend for yourselves for entertainment. quinn suggests going out on the boat for the day, which you all agree with. you head upstairs to your room, slipping on your favorite bikini and grabbing a sweatshirt and sunglasses. you grab a book just incase, but you know that you’re definitely not gonna end up reading it.

“hurry up, y/n!” luke yells, making you groan in annoyance as you close the bedroom door.

“shut up luke, im coming i’m coming,” you say as you walk down the steps. you and luke walk side by side to the dock, where jack and quinn are getting the boat prepared. jack, per usual, demands that he get aux, and you all know better than to argue with him about it.

he queues up his country playlist, as expected. you chuckle a little as you hum a long to a few songs while quinn slowly exits the no-wake zone. about three minutes or so later, quinn speeds up the boat and your hair is flying. laughter escapes your lips as you look over at jack, who’s sitting next to you. “god i’ve missed this!” you say, making him smile and wrap an arm around you slightly.

he rests his head on top of yours, “i’ve missed you,” he says. this type of behavior is normal for you two, so quinn and luke don’t even bat an eyelash.

you guys come to a slow stop before luke throws the large tube out onto the water. him and jack get on it and grab the handles, laying down on their stomachs waiting for quinn to speed up. “everyone ready?” quinn asks, earning a “hell yeah!” and a “hurry up!” from the two boys. he looks at you and nods before speeding up. suddenly, the raft goes flying and they last a whopping twenty seconds before they both let go and belly flop into the water. you and quinn erupt into a fit of laughter, grabbing your stomachs in pain and wiping the tears that are falling.

“holy shit, are you guys okay?!” you ask, still calming your laughter as they climb back onto the boat. jack groans slightly as he rubs his now red stomach, giving you a perfect excuse to stare. you bite the inside of your cheek as he rubs up and down his abs with his hand in an attempt to soothe the pain, blissfully unaware that his entire vline is showing. he fixes his shorts and you quickly look away after you realize you’re staring, and thankfully he doesn’t notice.

“your turn y/n!” he smiles menacingly, and you quickly shake your head.

“absolutely not! personally, i don’t have a death wish today, thanks though!” you exclaim, immediately grabbing your book from your bag. “you’re so lame y/n,” he pouts before sitting down next to you and rubbing a towel in his hair to dry it.

you can’t help but slyly glance at his biceps, when the fuck did he get this hot?

suddenly, ‘spin you around’ by morgan wallen begins playing and you jump up with a smile. “i fucking love this song!” you say, immediately singing along as the words begin playing.

yes, you’re a few white claws in at this point, but you’re also just happy to be with the people you love. you’re dancing around on the boat singing the words, and jack is looking at you like he just fell in love. his smile is big and his eyes are glued to you, watching you dance and sing like a crazy person, yet he’s not judging you. far from it, actually. he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and the fact you’re in a bikini isn’t helping either.

he chuckles to himself and pulls the beer bottle to his lips, admiring the smile on your face and the way your cheeks are flushed from the sun.

—

the house is quiet since everyone is taking a nap or just resting from the long day out. you’re currently sat on the dock, playing some music from your phone and watching the water ripple from the slight breeze. the sun is approaching the horizon and you’re cuddled into the same sweatshirt from last night, the one jack gave you when you were 15.

suddenly, footsteps appear behind you and you turn around to see jack. “you okay?” he asks, sitting down next to you. “yeah, just got bored,” you shrug, turning down the music slightly. he smiles at the sight of you in his sweatshirt.

“watcha thinking about?” he asks.

“everything, really,” you pause. “i mean, isn’t it crazy how you and quinn are in the nhl, im in college, and lukeys already seventeen? i can still vividly remember when we were seventeen spending summers here, and talking about where we would end up for college. you were listing off your offers with no idea that you’d go first overall, while i was stressing about my common app,” you chuckle.

he smiles softly at the memory, “yeah, i miss those days honestly. i kinda wish i got the chance to go to college. it seems fun. maybe one day you can take me to a frat party,” he says before nudging your shoulder with his. you giggle slightly, “frats are gross and dirty, you’d hate it.”

“eh, maybe i would, but at least i get to spend time with you,” he shrugs. your cheeks run hot at his words, was he just being nice or was he flirting? you couldn’t tell, and the moment fell silent.

“i miss you, y/n. i miss living three blocks away from you. its so weird being in different states. and like, now you have all of these friends that i’ve never even heard of before. it’s really weird,” jack admits. your stomach turns with butterflies at his words, and you turn to look at him, praying the heat in your cheeks isn’t visible.

“i miss you too, rowdy. it’s hard being away from my best friend.” he rolls his eyes at the nickname but bites back a smile. as if on queue, spin you around by morgan wallen begins playing through your phone speaker. your face lights up, and jack suddenly gets an idea. “c’mere,” he says, forcing you to stand up. you furrow your brows before suddenly he starts singing along to the words softly, and you follow suit.

jacks heart is racing, but he knows that if he doesn’t confess his feelings soon enough, he’ll never do it. he takes your hands in his and sings along to the lyrics, “well you might tell me ‘boy hell nah,’ but hell what can hurt?”

you giggle as he takes your hands and spins you while singing, “cause i just wanna spin you ‘round, and ‘round this dance floor, get you drunk on a love like mine… might wind up and steal a couple kisses…” the rest of the words that jack sings along to fade as your heart thumps in your chest. he spins you gently around and then pulls you into his chest, looking down at you.

“cause the way you stole my heart without a sign, girl it outta be a crime,” he says softly. you’re wrapped in his arms looking up at him, a soft smile plastered on your lips and a heavy blush on your cheeks. “is it bad that i really want to kiss you?” you whisper, and jack grins like the happiest man on earth.

“i’ve wanted to kiss you for as long as i’ve known you,” jack quietly replies, his hands finding their way to the small of your back.

as the sky is painted with faint hints of pink and gold, jacks lips find yours for the first time in nineteen years.

[higuchisora]

Honestly, I was always under the impression that Vander parented them "indirectly", if that makes sense. Like, Vander parented Vi, and Vi took those lessons and parented the others with them, because Vander simply didn't have the time to do so himself, and Vi was basically his mini-me.

Even prior to season 2, when I saw how the previous League bio for Warwick, implied his only memory of his past life was Powder (it says all he remembers is a little girl screaming a name- aka Powder screaming for Vi), that kind of confused me. Because on one hand, yes they're both his daughters and it's his final on-screen moment in season 1, but on the other, it felt thematically odd.

Like, he's supposed to be "dead"/unconscious by then. So wouldn't it make more sense if his final memory is of Vi screaming and crying over him? Also, considering Powder wasn't even crying over Vander- it's weird to me that his final memory is about an experience he isn't really a part of. It's Vi and Powder's scene, not Vander's and Powder's or Vander's and Vi's, so why would we want that to be his only memory?

Safe to say, as much as I thought it was sweet that they had a moment of recognition in season 2 (though I do have to wonder why seeing him like that didn't trigger Jinx at all), it definitely felt off to me. Especially since we never got to see Powder/Jinx have any real positive relationships with anyone other than Vi (before Silco), seeing her and Vander being so connected after his transformation didn't feel earned. Any affection she might've had for her previous family (and them for her) prior to Warwick nearly killing her is left entirely up to the audience to infer, which isn't really a good choice for a scene that you want to be emotional for EVERYONE. If his return is supposed to be inarguably a good thing, why leave the context behind it entirely ambiguous?

Especially when they already have a character set up for this exact kind of bittersweet moment: Vi. The focus on Jinx in the Dad Rescue Arc would make way more sense to me if Silco was the one being brought back. It really should've been Vi taking the lead on this one, which would've perfectly handled the "we don't know what to do with her anymore LMAO" thing Linke was talking about. (Honestly, I'm personally of the opinion that we shouldn't have had a Vander-Returns-Arc at all, considering the lack of time and simultaneous lack of substance both this arc and this entire season had, but I'd do anything to give Vi something to fucking do). OP is 100% correct, Vi should've been the one to grab Jinx and hit her with the "he was your dad too" line. Could've especially been potent if Jinx was all, "why couldn't it have been Silco?" about the whole thing, maybe even making digs at Vi at first when she tells her Vander's back (doing a "looks like crazy runs in the family" line or something), leading to some conflict between them at first, before Vi dishes out that line and perhaps a heartfelt "trust me just this once, just one last time" (or something to that affect). Which would work on Jinx IMO, because as we've established, as angry as she is with Vi, her willpower might as well be wet paper when it comes to trying to "hate" her sister.

If anything, this arc probably should've centered more around how the sisters still love each other, rather than their dads tbh. Vi obviously loves Vander, just as Jinx loves Silco, but I feel it's pretty clear they BOTH prioritize each other over everyone else, even still. Yeah yeah, Vi hit Powder, Yada yada- but think about it for a second. If all of this still happened, but this time it was, say, Mylo that did all this, blowing up their family etc. Etc.- do you seriously think Vi would have forgiven him for it? Do you think she'd desperately chase after him the way she chases Jinx, if Mylo ignored her orders and gotten Powder killed? This would be entirely different story, because Vi would've probably beaten Mylo to death, actually. She wouldn't have held back and walked away the way she did for Jinx in act 1 of season 2. She wouldn't be crying and bargaining with Mylo at that dinner party- she'd be straining against the ropes so she could strangle him with them. I'd say the same goes for anyone that isn't Jinx. Even Vander- even if she couldn't kill him, she'd never forgive him. He'd be dead to her in all the ways that matter.

Hence, this arc (imo) should've looked more like the sisters lowkey using Vander as a vehicle/excuse for their reunion. Like, Vi being so eager and happy to have Vander back because yes, she loves him and missed him, but also, it's one less reason for her to be mad at Jinx. One less reason her sense of duty would have to pit them against each other. If Vi could wave her hand and bring them all back, I'm convinced her first thought would be, "now we can move on, now I'm not obligated to oppose her." Because I genuinely believe the only thing really holding her back at this point is this idea of "I have to do what's 'right'." She was ready to move past this even before Vander came back as a furry, now she just has an excuse to show up unannounced at Jinx's door. And Jinx, too, being as obsessed with Vi's affection as she still is, would probably make some jabs and generally be distrustful, but the entire time she's still going along. The opportunity is too good to pass up. The chance to have Vi back is too tantalizing, is quite literally exactly what she's always wanted, even now, even after all this time. She'd take it, and as soon as she got a taste of that affection again, the soft smiles and the fond gazes, maybe even an instinctual pat on the shoulder, done before Vi even has time to consider if she should do that or not- it's a done deal. She'll still be insecure, in need of constant reassurance- but she'd be too eager to really be cautious, desperately seeking more and more of it.

As would Vi, who'd be over the moon to be able to hold a conversation with her sister again that wasn't laced with constant insults and hostility. It'd be almost like they're kids again, before everything went to hell in a handbasket, just them (and their dad) in a dingy old bar. As long as they ignored all the fur, of course.

TLDR basically I hijacked this to say I agree 100% with OP and think this arc was emotionally/thematically dodgy in several ways, which I explore a little in this reblog.

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[irazai]

── STANDING NEXT TO YOU ; dazai osamu x fem!reader

synopsis ─▸ ❝ he is someone you should truly stay away from because every smile of his drips with danger, every laugh is coated with mystery and every touch has tragedy lingering yet that's the only thing you can't bring yourself to do -- staying away from him. especially when he seeks you out himself. ❞

warnings ; racer!zai. age gap. dazai is in late twenties while reader is in early twenties, nineteen to be exact. angst. romance. tragedy. illegal racing and illegal activities. port mafia is in here too. dazai has smoking addiction. drug addiction. toxic workplace. reader works at a club. sexual harassment. prostitution though it's mentioned lightly. uses of whore, slut etc in a derogatory way. pedophilic behaviour and pedophilia, mentions of grooming.

chapter specific warnings ; mentions of being raped, sexual assault, dissociation from reality etc.

masterlist.

it's a busy night tonight, you think to yourself as you descend down the stairs, going down to the ground floor to help at the bar. you stop for a moment to admire the moon shining brightly through the glass windows before you look down at the roads below and wonder how ironic it is for a club to be able to blend so well with it's surroundings.

how many people must pass by this lavish two floor building without even realising that they just passed by a club?

you wish you could be one of them, alas, you aren't. continuing to walk down after that short moment of peace, you initially flinch as the loud music reaches your ear. you aren't used to loud noises even yet despite working here for years.

as you walk through the many tables and couches, you have to pretend as if you don't feel the leering disgusting stares on your ass or the whispers of immature or drunk guys betting to each other how long it will take before you end up in bed with them. can't they be more quieter about their perverse nature?

you increase your pace, fortunately there was no customer who decided to stop you so you reached the bar without any intruptions or hardships, after which only do you take a breath of relief. the worst thing is you can't say no to any customer if they want you to do them some sexual favours. your boss won't listen to your reasons that this isn't your work and you are just a escort here. he will only tell you to keep quiet and keep your head low, desperate to please his disgusting customers no matter what.

you hate all of them. even your boss. you can't stand any of these disgusting men who think they are above all just because they have a little too much money to spare.

"i am surprised how packed and busy the second floor is." one of the bartenders say, leaning over the counter to talk to you since the music here is so loud.

you nod, leaning in so he can hear you speak too, "it's cause there will be a race later on."

"woah, really? just out in the open like this?" he expresses the same surprise you did when you first heard about it from one of the strippers who learnt this from her client -- the organizer of these races.

"mhm, money talks." you smile, leaning back to stand properly, slipping your feet out of the painful heels you are wearing to relieve them for a little while. you don't give them time to heal because you don't have the permission to do so. looking down at your feet, you grimace yourself at how they are covered with red markings from the heel. your soles pain alot too and even bending your toes is painful.

leaning back against the counter to look over at the bustling club, you wonder how their lives are. your eyes dart towards the entrance right in time to see a man with blue dyed hair entering and you immediately straighten up, adjusting your top.

the man moves like a snake slithering between the dancing and making out bodies on the dance floor. you squint your eyes to focus on him as he seems to blend in with the crowd.

"what are you focusing on?" the bartender from before is also leaning on the counter, eyes trained on the man.

"he's one of the event manager's of those races." you tell, not looking away even once.

"damn, he looks more like he belongs to a gang or one of those kpop idols."

"well he certainly fits the illegal part of those races." you smile, turning to look at the bartender again. "they come here often. good luck in guessing who is who."

"finally a good pass time apart from listening to horrible hook up stories." the bartender snorts sarcastically as you wave at him, turning to walk towards the direction of the blue haired man.

it's not hard to find him as he sits where he always does, at the centre on one of the u-shaped couches, observing the rest of the club.

he nods at you upon seeing you approach him and smiles a bit as you lean down to have your ear next to his mouth so he can speak without having to be loud.

"is the boss done?" he asks, you look down at your digital watch before shaking your head. "nope, there's still an hour left. he rented the room for six hours today. he's here since seven p.m."

you tell the man who groans. "what does he even do there?"

you blink. "um normally when someone books a room, it's to have se--"

"i know." the man cuts you off immediately, smiling sheepishly as he waves his hand to dismiss you yet you stay there as you want to ask him something.

you wet your bottom lip with your tongue before nervously whispering, "is he gonna come?"

the man furrows his eyebrows in thought then quickly smiles, "i am joking. of course he will, you are here after all."

you smile as you mutter a small thank you, turning as you leave because you do not want that man to see how happy you feel on hearing that since 'he' is the only one who makes it worth working in this hellhole.

cheers and howls erupted at the same time like an explosion when the familiar koenigsegg drives over the finishing line in first place. many more cheers erupted when it drifted and did it's famous donut on the road with it's tires as it stopped itself. due to the car's velocity, dust and pebbles which were on the road were now blowing around when the door of the car opened.

he steps out, his brown hair being the first thing which the spectators can see as he ruffles his hair, smirking. as the dust settles on the road again, rushed footsteps is all he hears before seeing his manager laughing joyfully.

"attaboy! " the older man cheers, laughing as he pats the taller man's shoulder. "you keep this up and you might catch the eyes of one of those suckers, my boy hafta get invited to formula one at this rate."

he smirks in amusement at the older's enthusiasm but quickly bursts his bubble of imagination, "oh my, how sad it is that despite your motivation i do not think of racing as anything more than a pass time?" he teases the older man who rolls his eyes. when the older man smirks, his gold tooth flashes as it catches the light from one of the streetlights, "if you change your mind, hit yo man up, 'kay dazai?"

dazai only rolls his eyes, "where's boss man?" he asks, not wanting to waste another second here.

"at the club.... where are you goin--"

"to the club." dazai shouts, already jogging away while the older man sighs, grumbling under his breath. "he's always at that club. what's so special that he runs there every night?"

dazai quickly jogged towards his mercedes, adjusting his hair in the rear view mirror and looking over his face incase something out of the ordinary was tainting it. he quickly looked away however, he can never tolerate seeing his own face too much. he opens the glove compartment to take out his box of cigarettes and a lighter, these two being absolutely essential for him. it's like he can't function without these now, a bad habit but he's already too addicted to give a fuck now.

he takes out one cigarette stick and holds it between his lips, using his other hand to light the lighter and brings the small flame closer towards the free end of the stick. as soon as he takes one puff he releases a loud puff as if he had only now engulfed oxygen.

tilting his head back, he closes his eyes for a while as his body feels it's almost reached a heaven like state, he feels light and he can feel the nicotine in every vein running through his body. it's been only six hours without smoking and he already feels as if he was going to loose his mind. cutting off his smoking habit seems like a distant dream now.

he sighs again as he looks at his face in the rearview mirror again, making sure he looks absolutely dashing. he has a girl to impress once again after all. ".... should i get her chocolates?"

"i am sorry, i don't drink during work hours." you politely smile to conceal your fear which the man sitting on the couch in this private room is producing in you, having no choice but to serve him because this is your job. you can't 'slack' off on your job as said by your boss the last time you tried to bring these kinds of harassment to his attention.

"mhm baby, just a bit? come on, it's gonna be worth it, i promise." he doesn't understand and continues to push you to do something you clearly don't want to. you lick your lips as you feel them go dry, a shrill stab of fear goes through your chest when you see his eyes narrow at your action as he had clearly seen this as 'seduction'. he doesn't seem to think of the sweatbeads on your forehead and your wide frantic eyes as signs of panick or fear but rather as signs of you trying to appear demure to seduce him.

"i was eighteen not long ago sir, please don't. we will both get in troub --" your voice is shaky due to fear, eyes closing as you try not to grimace when he lowers his hand to cup your cheek. his hand feels disgusting on your skin but you can't speak about it. you internally feel your stomach clench in disgust when he begins to rub his thumb up and down your cheek as he leans in, his hot breath hits the shell of your ear, "you think you can fool me? you think i don't know how long you have been working here? are you allowed to have favourites between customers, hmm? should i have a word with your boss?"

his underlying threats makes you widen your eyes, desperately shaking your head as you plead. "i-i am sorry. i was out of line, sir. i will drink it."

he smiles in victory, his hand moves down to cup your jaw as he brings your face forwards while tilting the glass towards your lips, you part your lips slowly as the drink flows down your throat. you have to pinch your thighs to not end up coughing or gagging.

"good girl. take a big sip." he orders, a shiver travels down your spine as you can guess what perverted thoughts are behind his cocky smile.

don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. hold it in. hold it in. don't puke.

you chant to yourself because you cannot manage to make a mistake. boss is a scary man. not knowing his name despite living with him for eight years is enough of a proof.

his hand travels up towards your lips as he taps it with his thumb before he leans down, licking his lips greedily as he tries to peak down the low cut neckline of your jacket. a cropped leather jacket under which you are wearing just a bra.

don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke. don't puke.

the man tilts the glass down to watch the alcoholic drink flow down your throat and neck, disappearing inside your jacket. he gulps in pleasure at the thought of this drink staining your cleavage, how lewd it must look if he had the chance to see them, drops of the drink would cling to your nipples and drip down your chest.

an excited huff of breath escapes his lips at the imagery in his twisted mind, he smiles to seem apologetic but all you see are the ugly curves of his lips, like a monster smiling before devouring it's prey.

"i am sorry baby." he begins to speak, grabbing a few tissues from the tissue box next to him, he curled them and began to dap it on your neck. at his movement a very violent shudder travels down your spine, you don't even have to raise your eyes to see his second hand slowly inching towards his belt. the reason he is being so discrete despite wanting to pleasure himself is simple, this despicable man gets off to the thrill of subtlety.

"you should take your jacket off, i will help you clean it." he says, hand dipping lower to press the tissues against your covered cleavage, a shuddering breath escapes his lips, eyes hungrily waiting for you to expose more of yourself, to feed into his perversion more.

"i-i can do it myself." you stutter, trying to take a step back but he grabs your forearms, his fingers digging into your skin as he shakes his head. "no, no. it's my fault so let me help."

his words aren't a request or anything. it's an order. the previous threat of complaining to boss hangs at the back of your mind as you quietly unzip your jacket and take it off.

the man ogles your breasts covered by the bra, his hand slips inside his pants as he begins to jerk. "lean forward."

and you know you have to follow what he says because trapped in the walls of this private room, he is the king and you are the slave. not only to him but to the emperor (boss) as well. whatever boss says shall happen, no?

you do not have a choice, you think, it's all your fault anyway. you made a bad choice years ago and now this is the consequence.

. . . but isn't it too much? doesn't matter. blaming yourself somehow helps you to suck it up and continue working despite your own self screaming how unfair it is.

when the man leans to unclasp your bra, you do not flinch or react. over time you learned that fighting it or resisting it is more painful than the actual process (it isn't, both are equally awful but somehow gaslighting and blaming yourself helps you function.)

the man's hands hover over your breasts, skimming the skin as he pants.

a beep emits from your phone which is by his side before he could grab your flesh, a annoyed look of almost fury spreads onto his face as he looks at the useless piece of technology, he reads who messaged you and almost sighs but he doesn't.

no king is foolish enough to deny the emperor.

"it's your boss, go. he's sending someone else for me." he informs you, voice laced in annoyance yet the relief his words fill you with is almost enough to make you tear up.

it takes you no more than five minutes to wear your bra and jacket again, grabbing your phone as you immediately twist on your heels and walk out with hurried steps.

you unlock your phone to see what boss messaged you, heart thumping in your chest as you read the text.

boss : dress nice. he is here.

a shiver filled with relief travels down your vertebral column as you can finally meet the one who makes working here a bit more bearable. he hadn't come here yesterday or the day before yesterday so you are really happy that he is here today.

of course he has a life. he is not inclined to remember you either but it still feels depressing to think he will forget you one day, you won't be more than a blur with the tag of 'a girl at a nightclub'. it just feels wrong to not be remembered by anyone so you will put this expectation on the one who treated you like a human.

perhaps because he himself is unable to feel human? ... what an odd thing to say. you shake your head to rid yourself of these thoughts, thinking much about him is like being pulled down towards the ocean in a sinking ship where gravity works against your favour. if you sink too much into him, you are afraid he might run away like he always does.

he enjoys being a enigma, a mystery to intellectuals, an illusion disgused as a puzzle waiting to be solved but when you try to touch his pieces, the illusion shatters and he disappears.

your feet stop as you stand infront of boss's room. if he sees you here, you will have to go in so you retreat hastily, walking far far away from his office because you can never walk away from the man himself.

the door is always surrounded by black shadows which make the door seem narrower and more twisted then it actually appears, two years ago you realised it's because of your fear and bad memories associated with the room that makes your vision play tricks on you whenever it falls on this door.

you walk away for hours despite only a few minutes passing before you enter the dressing rooms where many pretty yet broken women lounges, some getting ready for their shift while some relaxed and others got ready to leave this godforsaken place for good only to return tomorrow.

a few smiles greeted you but then disappeared once they noticed your drenched and sweaty state and everyone ignored you, to not humiliate you. truly it's a messed up life you guys live, isolated from the 'normal, working part of society', drained in everything intoxicating and forbidden, placed on a pedestal where some think of as a fantasy while others look at you guys with either desire or mockery.

it is a monotonous process involving only a few steps -- you entered one of the dressing rooms with a dress you grabbed from the big closets, discarding your current ones which makes you want to vomit and instead slipping into the new ones ; black shorts and a tank top of the same colour. your steps are light and almost airy when you step out and walk towards the vanity area, adjusting your makeup and combing through your hair before you are on your way out again, waving at the women who still lounged.

your hips swayed as you walked out, putting on a confident smile as you enter the people packed areas again. this is the life you live, you can't slack off for even one second no matter how much harassment or violation you go through, you have to keep on dancing on thorns so the perverts can drink your blood from your feet and throw money at you which boss greedily grabs and hides in his black hole of a heart.

from your peripheral vision you see a customer raise their hand at the sight of you, needing some kind of assistance. you shift your body to face his direction, taking two steps in his direction but not more for a slender hand wraps around your hip to pull you towards him. you look up, eyes meeting those honey brown ones which seem to always have mischief and danger dripping down them and whoever looks into it can't help but lean in to drink it greedily.

greed is very reoccurring, is it not?

"hey." he breaths out, smelling like fresh mint. he smiles down at you and it feels the entire world stilled to admire the curve of his lips, you find yourself imitating him and smiling back, a giddy itch in your heart.

"hey." you breath out too. it's no fair, he seems to always steak your breath away. he applies forces on his hand on your hip to make you walk with him, away from the customer and from everyone towards one of the private rooms which is indirectly off limits to everyone else. only he uses it, it's untouchable to anyone else.

the room is nothing much worth defining because this specific room may be the treasure where you store your good memories, the other replicas of this exact room are horrifying realities tucked close till the door opens. you know these rooms better then anyone, having stared at them for hours while greedy folks had their fill of you, drank and left you all weak on the floor but alas that's the life of a prostitute.

never a human, always desired.

are you a mere escort? a prostitute? you aren't aware of your own identity in this concealed world of sins and desires. for all you know, you might be the golden hen with a eye-catching bow on her head, one which lures pigs.

oh silly you, pigs don't eat hens.

are you sure they don't? when even a human is capable of eating another, why can't a pig eat a hen? they have been eating you for years.

"thinking something?" his voice breaks you out of the never ending labyrinth of your thoughts, you smile almost from muscle memory alone.

"does dazai-san want me to think of only him?" you speak, a well reversed stream of words which dance around you as even to him you say them without meaning to. somehow you feel as if dazai knows it as well, that you only cling to him because he offers you safety.

"that's up to you but dazai-san himself has been thinking about you." his voice is airy and playful with gaps that are filled with mystery which he weaved himself, breaking pieces of himself and starving whoever is his companion before feeding them a very tiny piece, leaving them wanting for more.

you look up at him curiously, so he answers. "i wanted to buy you flowers but would you believe all chocolate shops and bakeries are closed at this time?" he whines playfully yet why is it that all the time spend together gave you an ability to look past the thick disguises to see just how tired he looks beneath them all?

how's it even possible to present oneself as filled with energy while being exhausted to the brink of fainting from the inside?

"why would you waste your money on me -- ah, i didn't mean to sound ungrateful. i am just curious dazai-san." you speak as he walks, making you walk along with him till you two approach the couch and he doesn't make you sit on the floor, he pats the space next to him once he is seated on the couch, you obey.

"too many questions, sweetie." dazai chuckles before he tilts his head back, eyes closing as if the burdens of the world is on his shoulders, "i have my reasons."

his answer is vague, hardly an answer but you nod, placing your hands between your thighs as you look down. "dazai-san?"

"hm?"

"thank you."

"hm?"

you smile as you continue to look down, shrugging. "for letting me breath and never asking me for sex."

how horrifying must it be for one to live such life that when someone doesn't immediately ask them to strip or kneel, they are grateful and feel as if they own them something, dazai thinks. he hasn't opened his eyes yet but he extends his hand to pat your knee. "don't thank me for treating you like a basic human."

and how much irony his words hold because what does he know about humans and how they live, how they feel and how they function?

but how can one think he doesn't know all this? knowing and acting on it is a very different think from naturally being born with the instinct. that's his only fault.

his words reach a part of your heart you didn't know still existed within you, which hadn't broken down due to your situation and misfortune. said part is very fragile and weak yet extremely guarded yet his words hold equal value. the parallelism of the man you were serving before him and him is too grave to not move you. you lower your head, eyes filling with tears as you nod yet you do not cry. you never cry.

crying makes you look ugly, boss always scolds you whenever he sees a tiny little tear attempting to leave the cage which are your eyes.

"i won a race today." to anyone else it might seem like a casual comment yet to you whose every move is watched like vultures watching a poor weak lamb limp as it tries to fight against it's inevitable death, this means a lot because he's really not treating you like you are an eye candy but rather as a normal person because he knows this normalcy is something you will never get.

"you are amazing dazai-san --"

"dazai." he corrects you, sitting up as he looks at you with his head tilted, a charming boyish smile on his face which makes your stomach flutter, "no need for honorific, hm? or i will use them with you too."

no, it's not only your stomach that flutters but the lining of your stomach that folds, your intestines which squeeze and your lungs which stop functioning whenever he speaks to you because his voice is so soft and gentle it feels as if everything will be better, the bad time will pass and good will come find you, that's what his voice is.

"you are not good for my health dazai-san-- dazai." you correct yourself at the last second, smiling at how better his name sounds without having to use honorific which you only use with clients to make them feel even more superior then what they already are,. you continue, "do you do this with every girl over here?"

you turn to look at him, tears still in your eyes yet none of you comment or acknowledge them. he grins, "do what?"

"make them feel special."

"nah," he quickly shakes his head, grinning as he leans closer to tap your nose, "i only do that with my special girl."

he freezes. the grin that takes over your lips and brightens your features, which makes you look much more happier and more your age and the realisation that it's because of him makes him feel funny.

he looks down, feeling shy now as he leans his head on your shoulder, making you halt as you look down at him.

"you say all that to me yet don't you know how bad you are for my health?" he mutters in a pouty tone, making your heart do flips.

"but i am only this way with you --"

"i know." he whispers.

"it's because you make me feel comfortable and i don't feel obligated to act a certain way around yo --"

"i know." he whispers again and you huff.

"what are you? a mindreader?"

"yeah, and i can even read your mind!" dazai teases, cackling as he sees the look of skepticism on your face. it's always worth it to see your reactions. "right now, you need to close your eyes and go to sleep for a while. your brain is begging you to take a small nap." he teases, once again a cackle escapes his lips when he sees your eyes widen, it's almost comical to him.

to you, however, it's astonishing because how does he know about the pounding headache on the back of your head? is he that good at reading people? must be. these are the times where you realise how much intellect this man hides behinds his tomfoolery, the times which makes a sensible part of you scream to distance yourself from this enigmatic man.

but how can you?

oh truly, how can you!

he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you towards his chest, leaning back against the couch as he tries to find a possible position which will be comfortable for you both.

truly how can you distance yourself from him when every touch leaves your skin tingling and wanting more?

greed is inevitable and you are no God.

you fall for greed too. especially when it comes in the form of a man named dazai osamu.

as the man who has your whole attention shifts the cushions behind you both to find a specific position which will make his aching muscles to sing praises for showing them mercy, your eyes do not stray away from him, a true devoted follower.

you stare intently at his bandages emerging from deep below his neck as you wonder how he got them. he doesn't really speak much about him. you do not want to risk asking and angering him too.

"if you want to ask questions, prepare to answer some yourself too." he advices, not even looking at you yet it feels as if there is a pair of invisible eyes behind his head which are devouring your walls and masks. you nod. "how do i know it's the right time to ask?"

he pauses, a look of thought on his face though it's only a act, he quickly goes back to smoothing and adjusting the cushions as he answers, "when you have the upper hand."

you purse your lips. upper hand against someone like him? yeah, as if.

your sigh is inaudible as the advice he gave can't be used against him at all.

"hm. so much sighing from someone so young. when does your shift end again?" he asks which makes you look at the clock on the wall, "in half an hour. why?"

you look at him. his eyes are closed and a lazy smirk is on his face. "in half an hour let's go on a date. who knows how many upper hands you may receive if you do?"

his words are a trap. a bait to lure you in. you shake your head, not wanting to take unnecessary risk but the thought of being alone with boss for the night is more unpleasant, you can either sit in a room with snacks or rats.

the latter doesn't seem as dangerous as snakes but truly what's more scarier — the eye catching snake or the rats which curries away from under one's nose?

that's dazai and boss respectively. the date and being alone with boss likewise.

you blame dazai for this, ever since you began to meet with him a few months ago you began to see how disgusting boss really is, he makes your skin curl in disgust after dazai opened your eyes to what you consider normal to not be anyone else's normal.

you take your bottom lip between your upper row of teeth, sinking them onto your plush lip as you ponder while dazai removes his watch and tosses it on the glass spherical coffee table made of black marble. his moves are casual but he's a pretty snake. like a mamba.

the mamba or the rat?

"where ..... will we go?" you cautiously ask to which he hums. "a secret spot."

"your racing venue?"

"no. it's too soon for that — maybe after two or three dates i might take you there too?" he grins as he talks, eyes not opening because you know he doesn't think of you as a threat. you, however, do.

you nod. it's a date so maybe you should get ready?

as if hearing your thoughts, he shakes his head. dazai sits up and let's out a few curses when his joints pop in protest, screaming at this man who doesn't show mercy to even his own self.

"i don't want you to not enjoy yourself with me because of a headache. for now, you will sleep." he orders. it's not a advice or words spoken from worry but a prophecy in a way which will be true if you do not follow him.

what a dictator.

though you do not object for you have no reason to yet. instead you curl by his side, leaning back against his open arm. with your face against his chest, you close your eyes as the drumming of his fingers against your shoulders are a lullaby.

as your eyes close you are unable to see the pair of eyes who got their pigment from the sorrow it went through. sun lights and honey and tree trunks are all romanticized but his eyes are the colours of a abandoned and dried tree trunk which always feels as if this breath is it's last breath but then somehow the roots find water and its pulled up by the thread it's hanging on which dangles between life and death.

his fingers curl against your shoulder as he pulls you closer, shutting his eyes as his other hand is on your hip and pulls you closer by it.

though an hour later in the starry and chilly night sky which has no witnesses apart from the coldness, you crouch on the ground and scream. "dazai!"

you close your eyes to not look at the white tiger which lunges at you to attack you, his body looking majestic under the night sky.

this was not how you expected your date to go.

[mandarinmoons]

omg i love ur account soo bad, i would rlly like to read about Spencer being jealous of Derek, for the reader to comfort him and try to help with his insecurities, lowk sad ik but pleaseee 🙇🏻‍♀️

Spencer sighed as he watched Derek from afar, talking to a group of women. Each of the girls seemed to be entranced with what the man in front of them was talking about, one of them playing with her hair while the other one kept biting her lip which turned into a not so subtle smirk over time.

Spencer hadn’t had the best luck with women, he had a few take interest in him over time, but it never grew into something serious. He blamed himself for not being the archetype of a man girls would usually want from what he saw and no matter how hard he would try to be more appealing, it just wasn’t him and he wouldn’t be able to keep up the facade for too long.

“What’s on your mind, boy wonder?”

Spencer blinked his eyes as you walked over to him and brought him out of his thoughts. Spencer wondered if he should tell you what’s on his mind or would it be something he would eventually get over after some time. It was hard to hide anything from you though, the sparkle in your eyes made Spencer crack and he’d always tell you whatever it was he was thinking of, you had never judged him for it as well, so he had his answer.

“Y/N, be honest, is there anything about me that’s… unattractive?”

“What do you mean? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Really?”

You nodded as you took a seat next to Spencer, your hand reaching out and thumb running across the back of his hand. Spencer wasn’t one for physical touch, but whenever you showed it it put him at ease.

“Where is all of this coming from?”

“I look at Morgan at times, the way he talks to women, how he presents himself, the way he is basically and I don’t know I just… wish I could be that way.”

“I’ve always liked the way that you are. Men similar to Derek put me off at first, it makes me feel like they have other intentions, but when we first met only minutes in and you were talking about the differences between plant and human cells and I thought that it was really fascinating.”

Spencer chuckled as he remembered the day you both had met. He was scared that he had messed up his first interaction with you and that you would stay clear of him whenever you would come across in the bullpen, but you did the exact opposite. You’d always take time out of your day to go talk to Spencer, even if it was the most random subject someone could think of, but you never regretted it and kept coming back for more.

“There are people out there that adore people like you Spencer and I’m proud to say that I’m one of them. Plus, I think you’re cuter than Derek.”

Pressing a kiss to Spencer’s cheek, his eyes went wide as you waved goodbye and he watched you return to your desk, a slight bounce in your step as you strode across the room.

Spencer chuckled as his eyes met the floor, somehow your words set him at ease during times he needed it the most. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve someone like you in his life, but whatever it was he was sure he’d do it a thousand times again to have even one more conversation like this.

You can find my masterlist here!

Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[0rczy]

I really like analyzing Varigo, one thing I've noticed recently is how different their approach to romance (and human connections in general) really is, but also how they're pretty much the perfect foils in this regard.

Varian grew up sheltered away in their mansion. He didn't have much clue about socializing, so when Rapunzel came to him, he gives all of them proper respect (calling Rapunzel "Princess", Eugene "Flynn Rider", as in the full name). You could assume it's because of his dad; later when the two confronted each other, Varian called him "Sir". Probably because Quiring taught him to be respectful of others, and they both clearly take this social rule rather seriously.

So then Cassandra comes in and saves Varian, for apparently no selfish reasons. She likely just didn't want to have a child get crushed when she could've prevented it, but to Varian, this changes his view on people. Cassandra isn't just a distant figure to respect; instead, someone he could have a connection with. And this is where one of Varian's most essential traits come to light: when comfortable, he treats situations like an experiment. He immediately starts calling her by a nickname, "Cassie", to see how she would react. At the day of the expo, he keeps trying out different tactics, trying to essentially just get close to Cassandra. One could Interpret this romantically, but I personally like to think he just really wanted a friend. A lonely kid, seeing someone cool show any kind of affection for him immediately made him go "there could be something here! I need to find out!", and so he does. In his own, nerdy way.

Hugo, on the other hand. He, unlike Varian, grew up having to socialize all the time. Having to talk his way out of situations constantly, he learned to put up walls so that the most desirable results come out, benefiting him and his missions. When he weasels his way into the Team, he also calls them nicknames. In his case, it stems from a need to distance himself from people, so that he doesn't get attached. One slight exception though is Varian, as Hugo seemingly not only uses nicknames on him to keep up built-up walls, but to get a reaction out of him. This is very similar to how Varian approached Cassandra when he was younger. He's interested in Varian from early on, and he handles this in his good old Hugo fashion, because he finds Varian entertaining. Varian at first doesn't trust Hugo, but when he proves himself trustworthy, he gives in. He's willing to reach out, making Hugo more than a means to an end. Eventually, the two become friends! Then more than friends!

And then, their approaches change.

I'd like to think that it was Hugo, who fell first. Or at the very least, he's the first to realize it, and he HATES THIS. His flight or flight is activated, and he really wants to flee. He's the type to ignore his feelings, try to bury them. That's all he knows how to do, really. Especially because for what could be the first time in his life, he's actually falling for someone who is his friend. Someone who means a lot to him! He wouldn't want to ruin things, especially because he knows that betraying Variant will break the guy's heart, once he finds out. Therefore, the less pain, the better.

Varian is the exact opposite of this. It takes him a long time to figure out what he feels, and that it could be romantic (he didn't exactly have the history with romance before. The "puppy crush" on Cassandra could have easily been more of an obsession with the possibility of someone showing affection towards him). But once he realizes that there's a chance that the two could be a thing? He doesn't have to think hard about what his next step should be: he likes Hugo, and he's a scientist. Trial and error is practically in his blood at this point, so if there's even a small possibility of them getting together? That Hugo likes him back? Varian will do anything to find out how probable his theory is. And so, once again, he treats the situation like an experiment. Wasting no time, he tries to confess or bring up the idea as quickly as possible. And Hugo FREAKS OUT. He's not ready!

Varian's other big trait is his stubbornness. He's not satisfied with an uncertain answer. He wants to know Hugo's view on them, as clearly as possible. So he keeps poking around, trying to find an approach that brings out different reactions, different answers as to why Hugo would be scared of them being together. Again. Really similar to how he treated Cassandra at the expo back then. This is the only way he knows how, though. And he needs clear answers.

He gets one at the last trial. Boom. Heartbreak. This isn't about angst though, so I'll end it here.

I find them so interesting. How their upbringing influenced their view and approach to people, to friendship, to romance. To each other. They are both scientists, but one is more afraid of the results than the other.

So it all boils down to the importance of clear communication: another big theme in Vat7k, what with Ulla and Donella setting an example as what not to do.

I could ramble about these characters for ages, but yeah. This is my view on them, I loooove reading different Interpretations in fan fiction though!

[bullet-prooflove]

5500 Follower Celebration: Tears of Pearl - Eliot Spencer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @madisonbroxson1 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog  @readings-to-share  @sameenbyhat

Companion piece to:

Star - Eliot realises he's made a terrible mistake.

The Worst Thing - There's only two people that know the worst thing Eliot has ever done.

You’re wearing pearls,  Tahitian black pearls to be exact.

 It’s the first thing Eliot notices because it’s an unusual choice for a woman of your calibre. You society girls usually prefer diamonds, the bigger the better. That’s the first indication you’re not like the others, it’s not the last.

He spends a year getting to know you as your personal protection specialist. You hate the fact you have a bodyguard but he was hired by your fiancé Moreau after threats have been made by some of the people he’s pissed off.

“I can’t have anything happening to my investment.” He tells Eliot as he sits across from him at a desk that costs more than most homes these days. “This marriage opens up a lot of doors for me, gives me connections I wouldn’t have access to.”

“What does her father get out of it?” He’d asked as he flicked through your dossier.

“A cash injection into some of his more problematic businesses.” He’d said as he lounged back in his chair. “He can’t stand the shame of failing.”

You are everything that Eliot does not expect from someone whose a daughter in one of the founding families. He sees the work you do with those charities, the way you immerse yourself in it as if you’re trying to make up for the sins of those that came before you. You’re not content with cutting a cheque, you need to be involved and not in the public shit either, the stuff that would get you recognition, but the grassroots stuff. Teaching kids to read, sitting with the elderly who have no families and then there’s the homeless, the people who don’t have a voice.

The first time you sit down next to a veteran in the street Eliot almost hurls you right back up because you, you don’t seem to understand the risk that comes with being with Moreau. The fact the people who are trying to hurt him will use you to do it.

“Let me take five minutes to share a coffee and a sandwich with my new friend Joe.” You negotiate and he reluctantly agrees.

It’s not five minutes, it’s thirty because Joe, he’s non-threatening and watching you interact with him it’s fascinating. You don’t act like other people, you don’t talk over him, try to give him advice, you just listen and to a guy like Joe whose spent years being in the background, ignored, it’s overwhelming, which is why you take his hand when he gets a little upset, clasping it tightly in your own. He understands in that moment that you’re lonely, that you probably have been for a long time.

When you do come away Eliot’s silent because he isn’t sure how to articulate this new knowledge. It’s only when you get to the car that he notices your pearl necklace is gone, that you must have placed it into Joe’s cup.

“You gonna keep giving away all your jewellery like that?” He asks you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours as he watches you in the rearview mirror.

“They’re just things.” You say distractedly, looking out of the window. “Things that could help other people who actually need it.”

That’s when Eliot realises how trapped you are in this world, it’s a gilded cage you were born into, not one that you want. When he looks back he knows that that’s the moment that things changed between the two of you, he saw you for you, not the role that Moreau had crafted for you.

Six months down the line, you’re wearing a different set of pearls, a more expensive set and Eliot’s tearing them from your throat, breaking the strands because you’re in the midst of a panic attack and the damn things are practically padlocked around your neck with a gold clasp that can only be undone with a key. The pearls scatter across the floor, rolling in all directions and that lock, he throws it out the window in disgust.

It’s another Moreau special. A collar to remind you who you belong to because he saw you talking to another man at a charity event, one that had paid you a little too much attention. He doesn’t know that Eliot spends most nights in your bed, that he makes love to you in the shower before he puts on his suit and pretends he’s been in his own room all along.

“I don’t want to marry him.” You sob as Eliot uses his thumb to chase away the tears that leak down your cheeks. He despises the kind of man that can do this to you, that steals away your autonomy, that tries to stamp out all the goodness in your soul.

“You don’t have to.” He whispers, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he looks into your eyes. “I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I promise you I will.”

Love Eliot? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[coyotelip]

wolfstar microfic: first death || surgeon!remus × student!sirius || @wolfstarmicrofic || wc: 510

Sirius chose this career because he wanted to save lives, but when he leaves the operating room for the first time, he has only the blood of an innocent person who took their last breath too soon on his hands.

The chairs in the hallway under fluorescent lights are there for family members, but it is Sirius who falls into an empty seat when his legs no longer hold him. All the other seats are vacant. The woman on their operating table didn't even have relatives who were willing to bite their nails under the operating room and worry about her. Now it was just Sirius.

Staring at his snow-white crocs, he notices tiny drops of blood on the tops - evidence of his first surgery as an assistant. His eyes do not leave them, and Sirius tries to count the exact amount when another pair of shoes comes into view. Gray and worn loafers. No doubt they have been washed many times, but still, upon closer inspection, he sees faded stains of blood and other liquids that will never disappear from the fabric.

The next thing he sees is a hand holding a chocolate bar. Sirius recognizes the bar from the cafeteria snack machine. A protein bar with coconut.

“Here,” a voice says, making Sirius look up. “It'll make you feel better.”

The man in front of him is Dr. R.J. Lupin, the lead surgeon at the clinic. The man for whom Sirius was the assigned assistant today. They hadn't had a chance to get to know each other properly because of the quick call to the operating room, so this is the first time Sirius has seen him without a mask on his face or a cap on his head. The mask and protective glasses have left fine lines on his skin, and his hair is tousled. His eyes are red and full of tiredness from hours of surgery, but despite this, his thin and pale lips are stretched in a smile aimed at Sirius.

His stomach turns at the thought of food, but out of politeness, Sirius takes the bar and places it in his lap. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“I understand, the first ones are always hard,” the man suddenly continues, and Sirius can hear the sincerity in his voice. The tired sincerity of those words, because the surgeon knows what he's talking about. “But you'll get used to it over time. It's a shame it was your first… but if the next one is successful, try to keep it in mind.” Dr. Lupin folds his hands behind his back and leans over the young postgraduate student slightly to speak more softly. “Unfortunately, we're not gods or wizards, we can't save everyone… but we do our best to do so.”

“How… how long have you been in surgery?” the question comes to Sirius' lips. Dr. Lupin doesn't look all that much older than Sirius, but his wrinkle lines and confidence with the scalpel show his experience.

“Three years,” he answers calmly, sighing heavily. “But each death doesn't make it any easier. Especially when it's a young person.”

And without waiting for another question, the man turns on his heel and disappears through the office door.

[joeloverture]

tlou s2, racism, & neocolonialism

hi. im vetty. i'm a diehard joel defender and i also have thoughts on that but that's not why we're here today. above all, i'm an indigenous mexican-chilean and tlou is (unfortunately) my special interest. in my time at uni i've taken a lot of classes about neocolonialism in latin america, and i also have my lived experiences. so let's talk about it and how it applies to tlou season 2.

severe spoilers for tlou2 below (the big one, mainly, but also some explanatory stuff about the wlf. if you are confused you should scroll) there's more to critique than just this but it's what im most qualified to talk about so here we go.

tw: racism, colonialism, mentions of torture, mentions of rape (very small), mentions of violence

pedro pascal. yep. pedro pascal. what's there to say about him other than almost everyone in hollywood saying he's as nice as he seems? many know that pedro is chilean, and is the child of socialist immigrants to the U.S. who fled pinochet's rule. being latino is an important cornerstone of his identity — he talks about it often, unapologetically so.

in a variety interview with clayton davis, pedro says, "...the best way to continue representation is, exactly as you put it, just casting a person into a role that isn't limited to opening, not limiting a character to its racial identity, especially if its an IP we're familiar with or a book. people get so butthurt about this stuff but who cares?"

joel isn't explicitly latino, but honestly, i think it'd be worse to strip away pedro's identity from joel than conflating their identities*. in the game, joel does say "adiós" in the whitest way ever (without an accent), but i forgive him and call him latino anyway. i'd argue, with pedro and gabriel both being latino and cast as brothers, he is latino in the show. i'd also argue that joel's death, as it is in-game, doesn't translate well onscreen with pedro as joel. not in implication.

to understand the implications of what we may see in the show, first, you have to understand what happened in chile. a us-backed coup occurred in chile to get rid of the elected marxist. said marxist was replaced by augusto pinochet. numbers are not exact since it was such a large scale population, but under his rule approximately three thousand people were killed or 'disappeared' (never seen again) and almost forty thousand became political prisoners. most of whom were tortured.

had pedro's family, balmecadas and socialists, not escaped, they very likely would've been added to that count. think about that.

that brings us to how, when abby kills joel, she doesn't just kill him. ellie walks in on joel having been brutally beaten for likely hours. we don't have an exact time, but abby goes from having subdued joel while wearing her coat to having taken it off, implying she was sweating for a prolonged period. (keep in mind. it was in a BLIZZARD).

abby is a white girl. not only that, she is a white girl who joined up with the WLF (washington liberation front) following the death of her father. the WLF is a militia group that fought against FEDRA in seattle. it's a compound of soldiers, heavily militarized, and one must think of how it compares to U.S. militarization.

the school of the americas is a school in georgia where people are trained to become mercenaries. whether they be killing or torturing techniques, they were learning how to commit war crimes, primarily against vulnerable brown populations in latin america. dictators installed in latin america sent trainees there — for a few examples, cadets were sent from chile, bolivia, peru, panama, and honduras. there's absolutely more countries that were involved, but the cadets that were sent back went on to enable dictatorships through rape, massacres, torture, and murder.

while the WLF is taught how to fight their turf wars against the scars, the school of the americas teaches their cadets how to perpetuate war crimes in the global south.

so let's say they keep joel's death scene the same in length and context. joel, latino and chilean in this case, is on the ground for hours, surrounded by white people, while he is being beaten to death and brutalized.

it's a disgusting reflection of all that has been done to people like us in the past, and with the connotations of war that coat tlou2 like viscous slime, it's a reflection that's impossible to look away from. do not let season two blind you from these implications, if they are realized onscreen.

more info:

*- it's not as if i hold any of this against pedro. that's the last thing i'm doing. he took a job, he fulfilled it. this is work for him. im just elated to see someone like me on tv, but beyond upset with the writing packed into this. this isn't a critique on abby (that'll come later from me), rather the writing behind her and her crew. it's got revolting undertones. don't put words in my mouth. tlou2's anti-palestinian messaging is another topic, one i'm less equipped to discuss. i encourage you to look into this and be mindful about it if you watch the season at all. when doing so, do so elsewhere.

further reading/material:

chile, the cia, and the cold war: podcast featuring a guest speaker who authored a book of the same title (tried linking but wouldn't work, can be found on apple podcasts for free) the farming of bones by edwidge danticat: i'm not linking this because if you're interested you should order it from a small bookstore in your community instead of supporting amazon or b&n, but this fictional angle of the aftermath of the parsley massacre in the dominican republic is a must-read the inferno by luz arce: linking because you can order directly from UW press! memoir that follows arce's story of being tortured and detained by the chilean intelligence service.

if you hate me because i posted about this, good! i dont want you here.

[solivagant242]

silver boy and golden girl

pairing: sirius black x shy!reader

warnings: none, slight swearing?

this is honestly more of a drabble than anything else, it came to my head last night and i couldn't sleep till i wrote it down. i’m sorry it’s so long, but hope you enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

༊*·˚ everything about sirius is silver

༊*·˚ right down to his bright eyes and that quicksilver smile of his, there one moment and gone the next, right down to the rings he always wears on his pale-skinned hands 

༊*·˚ even his laughter sounds silver- the way it seems to ripple in the air like moonlight

༊*·˚ and then he meets you

༊*·˚ the first time he sees you is at the library at the end of first year (of course, that was the only time he’d set foot in the library at all till then- and that was to help peter set up a prank involving a box of centipedes for some unsuspecting ravenclaws)

༊*·˚  you were sitting at one of the little alcoves in the corner, knees drawn up under your skirt 

༊*·˚ you’d taken off your red tie and let it hang loosely around your neck, a contrast to your usual buttoned-up, neatly-pleated uniform 

༊*·˚  for that matter, your hair was down too- soft waves framed your face, free from the usual knot you pulled it back in when you studied or read 

༊*·˚ the setting sun behind you was casting a rich, golden, beautiful light across your profile that glimmered through your eyes and made them look even brighter 

༊*·˚ sirius swears his heart skips a beat at the sight 

༊*·˚ the box of (disgruntled) centipedes he’s carrying falls, unheeded, to the floor, much to the chagrin of madame pince, who descends upon him in a fury

༊*·˚ he couldn’t care less

༊*·˚ the next few weeks are spent feverishly trying to get closer to you

༊*·˚ he stalks looks for you in the hallways and tries to gauge where you sit in each classroom, just wanting to catch a glimpse of those pretty eyes again 

༊*·˚ when he finally catches up to you in the hallway (why do you have to walk so damn fast? it’s not like potions class is going anywhere), he pulls a bouquet of silver roses out from under his robes with a flourish 

༊*·˚ “for you”

༊*·˚ you stare at him, shocked, a blush spreading across your face 

༊*·˚ sure, you’re both in gryffindor, but you sure as hell don’t know each other

༊*·˚ fuck, you’ve never even talked to him at all- he’s on the other end of the social spectrum from you, an unashamed nerd whose idea of a fun night out is studying in the slytherin common room with hot chocolate to watch the giant squid 

༊*·˚ you’re the golden girl of gryffindor- straight-a’s, a perfect record of praise from professors, and a perfectly structured, organized life in your own little world

༊*·˚ and now sirius black, self-proclaimed nuisance/class clown/troublemaker extraordinaire is grinning at you?

༊*·˚ nope

༊*·˚ no way

༊*·˚ not happening

༊*·˚ you mumble the invisibility charm and are ‘round the corner and gone, trying to ignore sirius’ friends’ laughter 

༊*·˚ that doesn’t shut him down, though

༊*·˚ quite the opposite

༊*·˚ you have no fucking clue how he got your address when you went home for the summer, but suddenly an owl is bringing you a package every week

༊*·˚ first it’s your favorite chocolates, held in a silver paper bag

༊*·˚ then it’s a delicate silver bangle that perfectly fits your wrist

༊*·˚ (the exact color of sirius’ eyes, though you’d never admit how you know that)

༊*·˚ the next day a note comes

༊*·˚ you’re hesitant to open it, half-expecting a stream of silver glitter or something equally cartoonish to explode in your face- you’re all too familiar with the marauders’ pranks, having watched them afar (or maybe just sirius) for a long time

༊*·˚ it’s not, though

༊*·˚ it’s a card to a very nice restaurant, just a few miles from your house, and a handwritten note that says be my date?

༊*·˚ how can you say no to that?

༊*·˚ you tell yourself that it’s just because you’re curious as you do your hair, spend more time than you thought possible figuring out the right way to make it curl and puff

༊*·˚ that it’s just to see what he’s about, as you step into a beautiful, shimmery golden dress that had sat untouched in your closet since your sixteenth birthday

༊*·˚ are you lying to yourself at this point?

༊*·˚ yeah, probably 

༊*·˚ and when sirius shows up at the restaurant at seven p.m. sharp, you’re…kind of impressed 

༊*·˚ he looks good in a dress shirt, for fuck’s sake. the crisp white accentuates his broad shoulders and the raven of his hair, even bringing out the glints of his blue in his stormy-gray-

༊*·˚ the cocky bastard is grinning at you

༊*·˚ “like what you see?”

༊*·˚ you swear you’re about to turn into a puddle in the center of your dress and melt into the floor with embarrassment 

༊*·˚ but contrary to what you’d thought (and snippets of conversation you’ve heard from dorcas and marlene), sirius is a perfect gentleman to you

༊*·˚ pulls out your chair, pays for the meal, holds the door, walks you to your car

༊*·˚ and he’s a good conversationalist, too

༊*·˚ you hadn’t thought that he knew so much about the muggle world and the type of science that you’re into, but he is

༊*·˚ he actually takes the time to listen to you

༊*·˚ and for once, he’s someone who wants to spend time with you for you, not because he wants your help studying or your answers for a homework

༊*·˚ you begin going on more and more dates

༊*·˚ you don’t know why, but what you’re feeling for sirius has slowly grown to engulf you, like ivy covering a wall 

༊*·˚ that doesn’t change the fact that you’re scared. dead straight scared, of letting anyone in, showing any vulnerability whatsoever, any emotion

༊*·˚ (which, according to your preening parents, is the only reason you do so well academically, but you have no intention of telling them otherwise)

༊*·˚ sirius, ever the gentleman, doesn’t push it

༊*·˚ doesn’t push anything

༊*·˚ he leaves it all up to you, and you’re not used to being in control 

༊*·˚ it’s scary and new and exhilarating all at once

༊*·˚ which maybe is what prompts you to ride his flying motorbike with him for the first time in the middle of second year

༊*·˚ the thing terrifies you. like, flat-out terrifies you

༊*·˚ little by little, you get more comfortable on it (definitely not because it means you get to rest your head on his shoulder, the gold jewelry around your neck overshadowed by the silver rings on his big hands, encircling your fingers curled over his chest)

༊*·˚ and the first time you kiss him is when you’re both astride the motorbike, godric knows how far off the ground, with the stars glimmering gold and silver in your eyes

༊*·˚ sirius nearly crashes the damn thing into the lake at the sensation of your soft lips on his

༊*·˚ and after that, you’re official- silver boy and golden girl, a perfect balance

༊*·˚ the perfect pair of gryffindor

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

did you like it? feedback/comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[transmascmion]

Tbh for me, the most haunting part of Higurashi was Satoshi, and I think his presence (or rather, lack there of).

Like the first time we (and Keiichi) find out about Satoshi, it’s when he finds his Clue card in the box. (I think HKGKG) and it’s like ?????????? CUZ U JUST HEARD ABOUT HOW PPL ARE DYING EVERY YEAR?? And THEN you learn he not only went MISSING last year, but you’re sitting in his EXACT seat. HUUUUHH?? Bro that was freaky.

And like. You hear so much about him, but not enough . Where did he go? Did he really abandon Satoko? And all the way, Keiichi relates to this missing presence. This person he’s never met, and never will, following the same steps (whether he means to or not).

Ok and ONE MORE THING but like. He’s also not a huuuge part of chapters outside of 3, but we still get a little bit about him told to us. Until chapter 5 we don’t even see him (AND Keiichi’s sprite. Coincidence?? I think NOT)

Even then… we can tell something’s wrong it’s very obvious. Then… he’s gone.

Like he’s literally up haunting the narrative and I feel like we don’t talk about him enough 😭😭

[hbpseverus]

for all that us snape fans say how we love his character because he is flawed and complex, i find it disappointing how many of us can't extend that line of thinking towards lily, while pretending that young severus was entirely innocent. i've noticed this a lot recently and it's been bothering me quite a bit so i've felt the need to defend lily, or to be exact, analyse the downfall of their relationship without basically giving her all the blame and instead looking at both characters and especially lily more critically.

so. let's talk about the conversation between her and severus after the werewolf prank. some snape fans harshly criticise her in this scene because she insists that james saved severus and doesn't acknowledge how serious this prank was, while insisting that at least the marauders don't use dark magic.

and i agree that she should have been more on severus' side in this case. after all he could have died or gotten seriously injured, turned into a werewolf etc and she downplays the severity of the situation and generally doesn't acknowledge how the marauders bullied severus very much. so yes, she could have been a better friend here.

but at the same time, from her perspective, she was already noticing that severus was spending more time with his housemates, all of them aspiring death eaters, how he had always looked up to lucius and was slowly heading down that same path. how he didn't truly disapprove of his housemates disgusting actions towards muggleborns - her own kind. even though it's not entirely logical, since we see through the marauders that light magic can be used to do harm aswell, this also explains her dislike of dark arts, which these (aspiring) death eaters all were fond of and using to do awful things to her friends (and hogwarts also pretty much teaches that dark magic is pure evil). by this point she had most likely also experienced discrimination at hogwarts for being muggleborn. she knew the situation in the wizarding world wasn't favourable for her, and now her best friend was starting to agree with those people?

the next notable event was of course snapes worst memory (sigh, here i go talking about it for the millionth time). and i really don't like how some people on our side of the fandom talk about lily in this scene (of course, this is not all of us).

first of all we saw that she initially smiled upon seeing severus be bullied, and yes, this was honestly quite disgusting. we know that severus saw this and was rightfull hurt, and this very well could be the reason why he snapped at her. but that is her only 'crime' in this scene. because she then does quickly turn against james and this entire crowd and defends severus. only for james to insult and threaten her, and severus to call her a 'filthy little mudblood'.

now, people say she should have done more to defend severus, that her attempt was quite half-hearted. i don't know. maybe she could have done more, but she did tell the marauders to stop, you can't say she didn't try. some say she should have hexed james herself or bring up her prefect role (although i'm not sure it's confirmed she was one at this time). but say she was a prefect, her job would be to stop fighting, which she tried to do, not to get involved in fights herself. and you can tell that james is entirely dismissive of her and clearly won't let her stop him no matter what, even threatening her in the process. lily also genuinely seems to still hate him at this point in time, she is described to have been disgusted with him to the point where even harry questions his parents marriage. so i don't believe it's fair to say she was just 'flirting' with james here.

furthermore, people believe she should have forgiven severus for being called a mudblood. i used to agree that it wasn't that serious, but i feel differently now. because it wasn't just a word, it wasn't a one time mistake or slip up or even the first time she noticed that he was slowly turning into a future death eater. that's why i brought up their conversation after the prank. lily knows that severus' descend into the death eaters arms had been going on for months, years even. being called - not even just mudblood, but hearing the words "i don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her" out of the mouth of her former best friend was just the final nail in the coffin. it was her confirmation that severus was finally too far down that road, and she, as a muggleborn, could no longer justify surrounding herself with him. so she abandons him at the scene, and i can't blame her one bit.

of course this post is not meant to be severus bashing in any way, he is and always will be my favorite character, but i don't enjoy pretending he was completely innocent, even his younger self. this is also not to excuse the marauders, as their bullying never had anything to do with severus possibly being a death eater and was really just for fun and because they could, and because he was an easy victim. but i truly believe that lily deserves some grace and also to be analysed as a complex character like severus, rather than painting her as one dimensional, either fully good or fully bad.

severus becoming a death eater is the tragic result of his background and surroundings, and when we analyse him we factor all of this in. lily was wealthier, had a better family, was pretty, smart and popular and had a good support system in and out of hogwarts. she couldn't understand why severus made the choices he did. maybe as an adult she would have looked back and understood it all better. but as it was, she was just a teenage girl watching her best friend turn against people like her and not knowing what to do about that. and what's also important to me to point out is that it was not her job to try and stop this, to try and fix him or whatever. it was first and foremost the adults in severus' life who failed him over and over again, not lily.

finally a lot of us can't understand how lily ended up marrying her former friends abuser and use this as an argument against her, but i honestly don't want to go too deep into this topic. i personally strongly dislike this relationship, because james treated lily herself like shit too, aswell as other people. we have to believe that he truly did change, even if there is not much to prove this. even if he did, i personally wouldn't have been able to forgive him. but i don't believe that marrying james makes lily a bad person by extension or anything. ultimately, if she was able to find happiness, i'm happy for her.

[xvxblahhhxvx]

You know that concept I was talking about? Well, since I've got a lot of work to do today, decided to write at least part one of it. This ended up being 1.8k....heh heh, so it's under the cut. Ehem.

When Atsushi arrived 20 minutes late to work, he expected to be scolded by Kunikida for his tardiness.

He did not expect the entire Agency to have their attention on him the moment he opened the door.

"Uhm. Hey?" he said, getting increasingly uncomfortable with the way everyone had their eyes on him. They couldn't all be mad at him for being late, right? He had asked Kyouka to tell them he'd be there in a few (it was still so strange that she was a full-fledged member of the Agency now), and it wasn't like this was a common occurrence. So why was everyone staring at him like they wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words?

"Heyyyyy Atsushi," Dazai started with a light, slightly mischievous grin. He approached the confused detective and wrapped a long arm around him. "How was your weekend?"

"It was good?" Atsushi only became more confused as he attempted to slip out of Dazai's iron grasp. It didn't work.

"Good, good," said Kunikida with an odd expression. "That's...that's good."

"Mhm." Atsushi now turned to Kyouka, who had left half an hour before him. Although her expression too was stoic, there was a small furrow to her brow. He looked at her, pleading both for an explanation and an escape from his mentor who still wouldn't let go of him. She averted her gaze.

"Ok, that's it." Atsushi wrestled out of Dazai's grip and turned to stare back at the Agency. "What's going on? Why are you all looking at me like that? I was only twenty minutes late—"

"This has nothing to do with being punctual," Kunikida interrupted. "Although, we will have that discussion later. You see, the thing is—"

"The news wants to do an interview with the people who are responsible for saving the city from the Moby Dick," Ranpo finished, clearly tired of everyone beating around the bush. The other detectives vaguely glared at him for going right out and saying it, but the brunet merely shrugged and went back to eating his donut. Atsushi's eyes widened and he grinned.

"Wait, that's amazing!" he said, glancing between the detectives, unsure why they all seemed so apprehensive. "It will be good for the Agency if we get our name out there, won't it?"

Kunikida nodded slowly.

"So then what's the problem? Are you not sure who should do the interview? I mean, Kunikida, wouldn't you probably—"

"Atsushi." The Weretiger turned to Dazai who had a serious expression on his face for once.

"Yeah...?"

"The news wants to do a live interview with the people responsible for stopping the Moby Dick. The exact people responsible for doing it."

Atsushi's eyes widened in horror. "You mean..."

"Yep!" Dazai grinned. "You were requested by name. As was Akutagawa."

"Aww no!" Atsushi buried his face in his hands. Suddenly, everyone's behavior made a lot more sense. "Well, that's nice. Tell them we refuse."

No one responded.

"Guys?" Atsushi looked up, making eye contact with each detective individually (except for Ranpo, whose eyes were shut like always). All of their faces were dead-serious. "We're saying no, right?"

"Actually, we already agreed," Tanizaki admitted quietly.

"What?!"

"Look." Dazai placed another arm around Atsushi's shoulders, but this time, the young detective was too distraught to even fight it. "We know that you probably don't want to do this—"

"What gave you that impression?" Atsushi bit back bitterly.

"But as you said, it will be good PR for the Agency if you do this interview. More recognition means more cases, and more cases means more money. And more money..." Dazai leaned in close to Atsushi's ear. "Means more raises. And you know who will be the first to get one if you do this, right?"

Atsushi bit his lip. He was well aware that Dazai was manipulating him, but he was also aware that Dazai was right. And the fact that everyone was letting Dazai do this meant they all felt the same.

Still...

"But with Akutagawa?" Since he didn't trust Dazai to be reasonable, Atsushi turned to plead with his eyes to the rest of the agents. His gaze first landed on Kunikida. "There's no way he'd want to do this interview. He'll try to murder me! Again!"

"The Port Mafia already agreed to work with us," Dazai informed Atsushi, his grin widening. Still, there was something about it that didn't meet his eyes.

Atsushi groaned. "But whyyyyyy..."

"Because it would be beneficial to them as well. Don't worry—I'm sure Akutagawa isn't thrilled with the idea of being in an interview with you either, but it's not like he's going to refuse a direct order. He won't like it, but he'll do it without killing you—probably."

"Well that's reassuring," muttered Atsushi. "And why do I feel like I'm in the exact same boat?"

Kunikida sighed. "No one's going to force you to do anything. If you really don't want to do the interview, we'll call the news station back and decline. But it would add to our PR, and it could drastically improve our clientele."

Atsushi frowned.

"Aaaaaaand you'll be the first to get a nice bonus," Dazai whispered into his ear.

"I guess, but—"

"You'd do it for the Agency, wouldn't you?"

Ugh. His mentor had him there, and they both knew it.

"Fine," Atsushi grumbled, feeling a headache coming on when everyone started celebrating. They all just wanted the money that might come from this interview, assuming he didn't botch things up. Could he do it? No, probably not. And Akutagawa would most likely murder him on camera when he least expected it. Yeah there'd be witnesses, but he was already a wanted criminal; it wouldn't change much.

"Perfect! Kunikida and I will be helping you prepare for the interview," Dazai told him, patting his shoulders.

Atsushi grimaced, his headache getting stronger. "Great..."

"There's also going to be joint practices with Akutagawa before the interview, so get ready for those. Also—"

"Joint practices??" Atsushi turned to stare at him in horror. "You never said anything about those."

"I just did! You really didn't think we'd have you two go on camera without having formally practiced how to sound like you actually don't hate each other, right?"

Atsushi didn't reply. Instead, he chose to sit down in his chair so that he could bang his head against his desk.

"That's the spirit! You two are going to be spending lots of time together! Isn't that fun?"

"Kill me now..." Atsushi groaned.

Dazai laughed. "Don't worry, it'll be fineeee."

"Ok, but none of you can blame me if this interview goes badly," said the Weretiger as he slowly picked his face up from the desk. "When is it, again?"

"Next Tuesday," Kunikida replied, notebook in hand. "So we have exactly eight days to get you prepared to be a representative of this Agency on live tv. As such, we are going to spend every moment we have preparing you—remember, if you mess up, we won't only not get more business, but we could also lose business as well."

"That's not ressauring!"

"It isn't supposed to be." Kunikida adjusted his glasses. "You need to be aware just how much is riding on this interview alone. So as much as you and that Mafia dog don't get along, you're going to act cordially and respectful like a true Agency member, got it?"

"Uh huh." Atsushi scowled. "Assuming he doesn't start anything."

"Good! Well, time waits for no one. Let's start." Dazai dragged over a chair while Atsushi lowered his head in his hands.

"This is going to be a complete disaster, isn't it." Still, there was nothing to do but to face the train wreck head on.

***

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Chuuya asked Mori again as the boss stared out the windows in his office.

"Of course. Akutagawa is a distinguished member of the Mafia, and I have no doubts that this interview will raise the Mafia's image in the eyes of the government."

"Maybe but..." Chuuya frowned. "Akutagawa is a great agent, but when it comes to social things, well..."

"You don't think he will be able to handle himself well in the interview, is that it?" Mori's eyes seemed to stare right through Chuuya's soul.

"I mean, no offense to him, boss, but he isn't exactly the most...personable member of the Mafia. Coupled with the fact that he's doing it with the Weretiger, a boy he hated so much as to defy orders to sneak onto the Moby Dick simply for the sake of murdering him, I don't know quite how well the whole thing will go if they're forced to be on live tv. Y'know?"

"I do." Mori smiled. "And that is why you're going to be prepping him for this interview."

"Hah????" Chuuya started. "But why—"

"Because he trusts you as an executive, and frankly, I don't think there's anyone else in the Mafia more suited to guiding Akutagawa in this manner." Mori's tone was light, but one thing was evident—this wasn't a request, it was an order.

Chuuya scowled. "And does Akutagawa know about this interview yet?"

Mori's grin broaded slightly. "I figured you could let him know. Until the interview, this takes precedence over any other mission or assignment. Just tell him it's an order from me. I'm sure he won't be happy about it, but he obviously can't refuse. I trust you'll be able to make him camera ready by next Tuesday?"

Chuuya grumbled something under his breath that likely wasn't polite to say in the boss' company. "We're going to have to start today then. It's going to take a few hours just to warm him up to the idea."

"Well, it's a good thing neither of you have any missions right now, so you can get plenty of practice. Courtesy of your boss, of course." Mori laughed. "Oh, and one more thing," he added when Chuuya had begun stalking towards the door. "You two will also have join practices with the Agency."

"What?!" Chuuya wheeled on Mori. "Joint practices?"

"Well, of course. Akutagawa and the Weretiger need to be able to sit in the same room on live television without one trying to kill the other, right? It would also help to get the story straight so that neither of them say anything that might be a little...incriminating."

"Fine, we'll do it." Chuuya's voice displayed utter defeat. "But just promise me one thing. Please promise me that the Mackerel won't be there. Please."

Mori glanced away. "I don't know who the Agency will ask to assist the Weretiger in preparing but..."

Chuuya sighed and rubbed his temples. "I already feel a headache coming on. Well, I'm off to go inform Akutagawa that he's gotta learn how to smile by next week." He turned his heel and stomped away, dreading the next eight days of his life. He wasn't in the mood for a long conversation, so Akutagawa was going to be ok with this, whether he wanted to or not. Once he entered the elevator, he sent the broody agent a quick text to meet him in one of the southern towers. After receiving a quick response, Chuuya had to laugh.

"Oh, this is going to be a train wreck," he mused, watching the skyline slowly sink. "A beautiful, terrible, train wreck."

Yeah so that's the concept - it's a little rushed, but if anyone actually wants a part two, perhaps I'll write it.

[khaopybara]

I think Kant would have gotten far less criticism or hatred if KantBison were not being shoved into our throat. Like, clearly the showmakers want us to root for KB, everyone from Style to Cop Chris saying how Kant has fallen for Bison yada yada but at the same time Kant casually talks about Bison, the supposed love of his life, getting shot dead or spending his entire life in prison....without any sign of pain in his voice or face...like he's talking about mildly uncomfy weather.

This is clearly a narrative problem but it does make viewers frustrated and Kant's character has to bear the brunt of this narrative folly. I am very sure if the narrative made it clear from the start that KB are not, under any condition ending up together, the situation would have been different....but of course gmmtv has to sell their cp (by which I mean cp merch and stuff). The showmakers already have a pair (FadelStyle) that are hitting all the right spots for how a romantic pair should be and they can be easily shown to be having a happily ever after. Ideally they should have kept KantBison 'lovers to enemies' actually ending up as enemies...but well....cp 😒

i'll start this by saying this is the one and only ask with hate for kant/kantbison that i will answer because from your oh so many words, i can already tell you fit into the exact category of people who already made up your mind about the character and nothing i say will change your perception. but bc i'm not feeling like being the bigger person, sure, you wanna talk about this, let's talk about this.

first of all, i wanna talk about your apparent hatred for cps (or maybe it's just fk, we never know) and gmmtv's system, and you know, that's so funny because that's, and i know it'll shock you, their thing😯. so maybe if you didn't want to see that, you shouldn't have started watching the show, even after knowing that the two couples would end up together in the end because guess what, this was advertised as a romcom. and we what do we get with romcoms? exactly, happy endings. a travesty.

i find it so funny when people say fadelstyle are hitting all the spots for a romantic pairing, because that's what's supposed to be (again, a romcom), they are the more traditional romantic storyline (or as traditional as you can get with a killer and a guy who only started hitting on him and continued to do so because he wanted a car) so they are supposed to be hitting those spots. it's their storyline.

see, kantbison hooked up that very first night they met, clear attraction, kant was besotted by his one night stand and was calling him a ghost because bison up and ran before they could wake up together. their first interaction together and it had nothing to do with the police, or lying or manipulating, so maybe it's not a narrative problem that kantbison are "being shoved down our throats" maybe it's just a you problem if you didn't notice what they were being set up to.

and many people have talked about this already, and if you cared to read either liz's or lauren's meta about kant, you wouldn't have come to my inbox complaining about kant not being expressive when he clearly can't let himself feel the things he wants because his priority will always be his brother (just like fadel will prioritize bison always) in contrast to style who doesn't have to carry the responsibility of raising and caring for a younger brother on his shoulders.

and darling, if you started this show thinking at any point, from the trailers, pilot or official, promotional photos, osts, novel, press, anything, that kantbison would not be a thing, again, it's not on them, it's on you and your poor observation skills. there are plenty of people way more qualified than me to talk about this and how kant actually cares for bison, and how he's torn between his heart and his brain, but you don't really care, so why bother.

[cheeseatlantic]

john ‘soap’ mactavish x reader angst!! spoilers for mw3!!

tw for alcoholism!!

November 21st, 2023. That was the worst day of your life. The day you lost the man you loved, the first person you’d ever loved. Years of trauma, pain and suffering harderned you into the person you were today. Cold, reserved and stoic whilst Johnny was your exact opposite, but opposites do attract, right?

The day that Ghost, Gaz and Price came to your front door you were expecting Johnny, you wore your rare, big grin as you walked to the door and opened it only to be met by the three men, they broke the news and your world shattered.

Now your sat at his grave, a bottle of whiskey with you to numb the ache in your chest, talking to him as if he were still with you. “Your a fuckin’ liar, Johnny. You promised you’d be careful.” You choked, feeling tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as a lump formed in your throat and you took a swig of the whiskey to shove it back down.

Every single day you two were apart, you’d written a letter to him. A little life update if you will, and every week you gave him a recap, reading the letters to him. And miraculously if he were to come back from the dead or some bullshit like that, you’d gift all the letters to him. It was stupid, but it brought you a little comfort because when he was deployed you two would exchange letters like ‘those soldier movies’ as Johnny would say.

“Please… I can’t do this without you, I don’t wanna know how to live without you.” You said, tears streaming down your cheeks. And then the dam broke as you curled up against his headstone and sobbed, the first time you cried in what seemed like weeks.

He brought all the sunshine into your life, now everything was dark and stormy. And it would be like that forever, and always.

ok bai :3

[mykelneedssleep]

One thing I think is criminally underrated about the scene where Blue meets the Gangsey for the first time is when she asks Gansey what she would talk to Adam about and his immediate response is “We’ll think of something. We’re interesting people.”

I genuinely think it gets overlooked because it’s such a horribly Gansey thing to say and that’s evident even if it’s your first time reading it and you’re only six chapters in. You’ve just gone through 5 other chapters learning about his mission and the way that Adam in particular views him as one of the most interesting people alive that of course he would say that his friends are interesting because he believes that they are and as is the way of the world whatever Gansey believes is true. It also works so well because that’s the exact kind of statement a self-absorbed rich white boy would make about his friends that are just carbon copies of himself except we know that’s not true and while Blue does think for a moment that he is just being a douchebag she looks at Adam and almost immediately recognizes that’s not what he’s saying because his characterization is already so clear even when we’re all just meeting him

[occasional-yan-stuff]

He was always there. Every time you went back, he was always there. You don't know what kept pulling you back to that abandoned old house down the road. Maybe it was the mystery of the place that enchanted you, maybe it was the strange beauty of all the old, worn-out surfaces, or maybe you just couldn't stand to abandon him.

The kids in your neighborhood said the house was haunted, but that couldn't have been right, could it? You were old enough to know that ghosts weren't real, and yet... he was always there. Always sitting at the grand piano in the ball room in that exact same position, always acting as though he hadn't seen you in years whether you'd only been gone for a few months or even just a few minutes.

"I thought I would never see you again!" flinging his arms around your neck with the exact same intonation every time, but ghosts weren't real. You knew ghosts weren't real.

Sometimes you'd catch him staring at a rectangle on the wall that was slightly less faded than the rest of the wall paper. Around the third time you saw him doing this you finally decided to ask.

"What are you looking at?"

"This is a painting of my mother," he responded. It wasn't, of course, but you decided not to push the question.

There were also times when you'd see him blow on the golden candelabra that sat on the little table by the window. The candles were melted to stumps and never had flame in them when he did this. When he did it the first time it resulted in a cloud of dust that he didn't seem to notice, and when you asked about it he simply took your hand and said "more romantic lighting, my dear." You asked him what he meant but all he did was smile at you as the two of you started dancing.

It always ended with dancing. The world- or possibly your mind- filled up with music that you could find the source of, and he took you, and he twirled you, and the hours fell away into nothing. By the end of it he always begged you to stay with him, pleading for you to remain in his home forever. It was a cute little game between the two of you... you think.

One night you actually did try to sleep in one of the old creaky beds in the mansion, but it was far too cold and the whole thing made you itchy and uncomfortable. You checked the other bed rooms but there was no sign of him. Finally, you returned to the ball room. Even at that ungodly hour he was still there, sitting at his piano. You called out his name and he turned around in surprise. "I thought I would never see you again!" And so the cycle repeated and the two of you danced the night away.

He never seemed to like it when you talked about your friends.

"We see each other so little, my dear," he'd say with crossed arms, "can you not lend a bit more attention to me instead?" The way he pretended to be grumpy always made you chuckle. He was pretending, wasn't he?

Each time he held you, he acted like it was the last time he ever would. He took in every part of you, your smell, the feeling of your skin, everything. There had even been a few times that he had licked your neck but he always denied it when you asked. When you were just getting to know him, he would always cry when you wouldn't kiss him.

"What has changed?" he would ask, "have I done something wrong?"

"What are you talking about?" you would respond, "we've never kissed before."

"Oh, how I hate when you play this game!" was all he would say in response. Always the same intonation. Always the same expression. Always the same.

You started going back more and more, longer and longer. You always felt tired after leaving the mansion. Fatigued, like waking up from a dream. Sometimes you would return home with wrinkles you didn't remember having or a band aid you could have sworn you never put on. Scrolling through your friends' social media pages, you'd see pictures with you in them. Pictures you didn't remember being taken.

every time you went back things seemed just a bit different. The candles grew taller and taller, the wall paper more vibrant, and a painting of a woman was placed on the wall. When did that get there? Every night was just the same. You danced, you kissed, you loved. It was paradise. He was paradise.

One night, after a particularly long visit, you returned home. You hadn't wanted to but you had a life outside the mansion... didn't you? You stepped back into your home and a man was there, a man you had never met. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you.

"so, how was work?"

No. This was wrong. You pushed him off of you and rushed into the bathroom. Your eyes fell onto the mirror and you clapped your hand over your mouth. The person staring back at you was near unrecognizable. It was you, sort of, but at the same time not at all. You stared down at your shaking hands. Your left had a golden ring on one of its fingers. You hadn't put that there. You hadn't put that there! This was all wrong. All so very very wrong. Tears played at the corners of your eyes as you rushed out of the house and back down the road. The mansion was the only place you felt safe anymore. The mansion was the only place you were yourself anymore. You ran and you ran all the way to the ball room. Your breath was heavy and sweat glued your hair to the ball room.

"I never thought I would see you again!"

The night played out as it always did. You danced, you kissed, you loved. Just as always, he begged you to stay. This time you said yes.