#I hope you can see past her lies someday

[coming-out-of-my-cage]

On Unconditional Love (cw: vent about a messy falling out)

LOVING UNCONDITIONALLY MEANS LOVING WITH NO EXPECTATION OF RECOGNITION OR REWARD. If you are gonna walk away from an act of kindness grumbling about how you got nothing out of it, you are not loving unconditionally! The obvious issue here is where the line for unconditional love and self respect is. Finding the balance between holding firm on boundaries and loving unconditionally is a skill, and not an easy one, but HOW you set your boundaries is a good starting place.

for example, and definitely not based on anything I've been through:

You feel like your friend isn't respecting you, and is using and abusing your good nature. Holding unconditional love for them: You are seeing their perspective and considering why they may be acting this way. Maybe you conclude that they are mentally ill and struggling- you decide that you can't take their treatment anymore, but you also know that providing a safe space for them to grow and learn may help the behavior you don't like start to go away. So you express how you feel and what you need in a kind and loving way, you state that you have to pull away for your own mental health until they can stabilize a bit more, but you love them lots and wish them well, and maybe you decide to check in in a few weeks. What you don't do: Sit them down and lay into them for 25 minutes about how they are selfish, horrible, manipulative, liars. How they are scum of the earth and that you hate being near them with so much hate and vitriolic poison dripping from every word with no option for them to defend themself without you assuming they are lying the whole time. It's not assuming the worst in people. THAT IS NOT UNCONDITIONAL LOVE. WHAT HAPPENED TO KINDNESS IS ALWAYS AN OPTION? What did we do? The best we fucking could with what you gave us-which was nothing.

Unconditional love is knowing that if you ever needed to escape Texas and, for whatever reason, we were who you had to call on for help, we would be there for you in a heartbeat. Not because we owe you anything, but because we care about you still. Unconditional love is that, though this falling out was traumatic for both parties, I hold space for you and I think about you all the time and hope you are healing and growing the way you deserve to.

Conditional love is knowing that you would rather see us suffering. Conditional love is gloating online about putting my partner through hell on the day of their CSA anniversary by inviting their child alter out for cartoons KNOWING their ex was about to come over and lay into them. THOSE KIDS FUCKING TRUSTED YOU AND YOU SPIT IN THEIR FACES!! Did it feel good to watch? Or were you told afterward not to worry, cus they deserved it?

It is not you that I hate. I am angry believe me. But I know you were struggling, fragile, and unstable at the time and only operating out of survival and panic- like a scared dog biting. I think you are as much a victim in this as we are, but not for the reason you think. I wasn't the only one who noticed how vulnerable you were, only she had a vendetta, and she operates from hate and revenge. They saw you looking for someone to blame for how you felt and decided to give you target. I don't hate you. I hate that a scorpion stung you and filled you with such hateful venom. I hate that she used your instability for their own war. I hate that they cost you your friends who operate from love. I hate that you will probably never understand who the true abuser is in this and how they still have their stinger in you. I hate that you will read this and see only my frustration and not my love for you and desires for you to grow and succeed. This post is pointless and will do nothing for me or you.

There are many things I want to say to you but I will conclude with: I hope life is kind to you and those you love. I hope you find a peaceful existence where you and your partner can live comfortably and happily. I hope you get to do what you love for the rest of your life. I will hurt for a long time, and all I can do is hope that you don't. I hope you see this post and remember that you deserve to be loved. This is an example of unconditional love.

[bitchlessdino]

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.”

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slip, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“An impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want you cum coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into obvious for what it seems like endlessly, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, i did that, didn’t i?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassure, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[spectralreplica]

But do you think the plan will work?

Oumota: tarot reading edition! I had this idea during Oumota Week and just got around to finishing it now 😔. At first I thought about giving Sun to Kaito and Moon to Kokichi (a la Reversed Sun by grayimperia), but I think it works better to have them both in each card, to highlight the parallels. (If you want more explanation of my design thoughts, I'll put it under a cut at the end.)

General tarot meanings:

The Sun: happiness, confidence, success, optimism, innocence/childhood, inspiring others, internal motivation, truth

The Moon: illusion, imagination, uncertainty, secrets, confusion, intuition/the subconscious, fears influencing you, insecurity

The Star: hope, regaining inspiration, renewal, healing, moving on, new purpose, calm after the storm (Reversed Star: despair, lack of faith, pessimism, boredom, anxiety, being overwhelmed by past problems)

.

I feel like while Kaito is naturally more Sun coded and Kokichi more Moon coded, they have some qualities of both cards. And Star vs Reversed Star is so temping to bring in for DR.

I was thinking of it as a past, present, future kind of reading, but also maybe situation, action, outcome. Starting out with high self confidence and some childish black and white thinking. (Maybe a little over confident and childish to the point of egotism and inflexibility, shades of reversed sun...). Covering for insecurities by projecting a fake persona to everyone around, doubling down on the lies and self-deception a la chapter 5. Finally, either coming through everything stronger, with renewed hope, or else crashing and burning, overwhelmed by unacknowledged issues that have built up.

.

As for the specific imagery...

Sun: I stuck pretty close to the traditional imagery here. The flag/banner has their respective prints on it, and I put Kaito on Mars while Kokichi remains on Earth. It's also sundown or sunset for Kokichi; is he moving towards the Moon or away? The horse is obv. very chess piece inspired. Kokichi gets his King Horse a la the mask on his bed, and I gave Kaito a pegasus because flying.

.

Moon: Moving a little bit away from traditional imagery as more of the canon situation seeps in, but still pretty close. The moon floats "outside" the cage, wearing their respective false faces. (We know from the ending that the skyline on those glass panels isn't real...) They both have an Exisal in the background in place of one of the towers, but Kaito has a bamboo grove a la Princess Kaguya; Kaguya came from the moon and she will go back, no matter how much people on Earth love her. Kokichi has one of the racks that sits beside shrines where you're supposed to tie bad/unlucky omikuji (paper fortunes) so that the bad luck doesn't follow you; living in purposeful denial of bad things, but they lurk there on the horizon.

They both still have at least one dog/wolf, but I gave Kokichi a fox because of their association with being tricksters. Also, wolves and foxes, as predators, are framed as villains in stories, but at the same time it's also not uncommon to see them as heroes (stereotype of predator/hunter vs stereotype of bravery/nobility and cleverness). Also, contrast of fox and hound, like the clash of Kokichi presenting himself as childish + annoying vs a genuine threat. Kaito has the dog, monkey, and pheasant that accompanied Momotaro, continuing his fairytale theme.

Everyone seems to argue over what the crawfish means in the original, but I went with the interpretation of moving from water to land, evolution, things coming to the surface. So, Kaito has a koi. I think most people know about the "koi climbs a waterfall and becomes a dragon" thing because of Magikarp, but here it is again just in case! Kaito's got an aquatic creature struggling against its nature in hopes of someday actually transforming into something grander. Kokichi has a poison dart frog. Already amphibious, so it can go between water and land freely, but visibly harmful to anyone who tries to get close.

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Star: The least traditional imagery and the most V3 canon imagery. There's still a tree, but it's a pine tree. ...I dunno, no explanation for that, it just looked nice 🤷‍♀️The two jugs are replaced with the poison and antidote bottles. Originally, they're supposed to represent the conscious and subconscious and pour in two different places, but here they're mixing together directly. V3 resolves the "truth vs lies" theme by arguing you have to accept ambiguity. Also, Kaito and Kokichi's whole plan rests on them managing to work together to obscure exactly who is in the Exisal in the end.

There's a figure in the foreground in Kaito's jacket, but they're just a silhouette (a la the culprit); it's not either of them, it's both, and they're reaching beyond the bounds of the game. The star in the sky is ringed by the trial podiums, since all of their hope for the future rests in derailing the next trial. Can they win? Well, Shuichi and Kiibo are at the top, the two people they (or at least Kokichi...) know can be problems, but Tsumugi is specifically blocked from view, always overlooked...

[cheemscakecat]

Scout unspoken character development.

So you remember how Scout was absolutely struggling to work out how to ask Pauling on a date, and didn’t have the confidence he needed to do it properly? In Expiration Date?

*loud silence*

It makes sense that he’d struggle, because dating requires you to be more vulnerable emotionally and that’s like the last thing he ever wanted to do growing up. His brothers saw being emotional as a weakness, and he still thinks like that because those were his role models.

That’s why he didn’t help Spy with the last wishes. He’s still got that mentality that he’ll be seen as weak if he admits that dying in three days bothers him. But if he makes fun of Spy in front of the boys, Spy’ll be the one seen as weak, not him.

To date somebody, you have to admit that you’re attracted to them, if not in love. He can’t admit that part, which is why he tries to be causal about asking Pauling out.

Like, even when he can tell that he made Spy furious, the awkwardness of that emotional situation makes him try to laugh it off and stay casual, not give him pause.

How much you wanna bet that “I’m sorry”, usually said sarcastically or with fake sincerity is the best he’d get from any of his brothers growing up? No discussion beyond that about what the brother should be sorry for, just “I’m sorry” because Ma is making me apologize.

That’s why he just moved on with his request for help, instead of going into a deeper apology and acknowledging why Spy is upset. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know that you’re actually supposed to, and he’s not a weakling for feeling that way.

He can’t accept the weakness of being bad with women, even though that’s why he’s in the smoking room asking for advice. That’s why he lies about the ratchet girl at the chicken place, who probably never existed.

What’s interesting is that the only thing he retained from his dad’s training was the dancing, which is an expression of emotions. He started out doing a casual, cheery boomer dance that doesn’t require a partner, with no risk of hurting somebody else if you mess up. But the dance Spy taught him requires you to be careful and move with another person, and is a lot more romantic.

But we know that music is something he loves, to the point that he hopes his favorite musician is secretly his dad.

But that’s not the only important development he makes in this short.

Scout doesn’t know how to respond to that, because if he ever tried to bring up what one of his siblings did to make him upset, they’d just laugh at him or say “I said sorry, what else do you want?”. But he cares about this woman and how she feels, so when she brings up what he did to make him say more than sorry, he can’t just move past it like he normally does.

He got so close to spitting it out! But what we did get is good progress, because he had to be more honest than usual. If she was paying even the slightest bit of attention to him, she’d be able to see what he’s trying to say.

He’s trying so hard, she doesn’t even know. I hope that someday he finds a girl that does like him, because she sure as heck doesn’t.

What’s interesting is that we have voicelines that imply he’s getting less uncomfortable flirting, even if it’s in his usual Scout way.

He didn’t act ready to take his shirt off around her in Expiration Date. That’s Scout getting more comfortable around her. So is him playing her dorky board game that his brother’s would clown him for looking at.

You have to remember, Scout is the youngest and considered the runt of the litter by his stupid siblings. He acts like he likes the way his arms look in Meet the Scout and talking to Spy in the smoking room, but he’s always comparing himself to other guys. He wouldn’t take that shirt off around most people, is what I’m saying.

I hope someday Scout goes through the character development he needs to find a real girlfriend that likes him. [And also not rely on physique as a tool for flirting].

[octoberland]

Invisible

Only TWD would get me to come back here writing my fandom thoughts. It's a landmine because you never know how people will react. I am going to share some deeply personal thoughts. I ask that you treat this vulnerability with the respect that it deserves. Spoilers for tonight's episode. And a trigger warning for my personal experiences with abuse.

I met Carol 14 years ago. It was a time in my life when she was a mirror for me. Meek, scared, abused Carol. The little mouse. Jumping when Ed said jump.

By the time the show aired that year I had extricated myself from my situation. But I was still terrified every day. I mostly didn't sleep at night. When I did sleep, I would prop things against the doors so I could hear if someone came in. I would rarely be out of the house at night. On the occasions I was outside after dark I would be walking with my heart in my throat, beating the loudest of drums in my ears. Every stranger was a potential threat. Every shadow could be him coming back to kill me.

I latched onto Carol in my fear and despair. I understood her. Related to her. Felt inspired by her. I was hers from the moment she bashed Ed's skull in. It was so cathartic watching her do that. I wished I could have that moment in my life.

Like her, people judged me. People blamed me for being with a man like that. Said I must like bad boys. Said I liked the attention. Asked why I didn't just leave. It's all so easy to dissect when you're on the outside.

Unlike Carol I didn't have a walker to take out my abuser. I extricated myself. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done. And it came with great risk. And I mostly did it alone.

I watched as she grew strong. And I grew strong too. Like her, I learned to fight. To be fair, she was not my only influence there. I have Captain America/Chris Evans to thank for that too. I hope someday I get to tell him that story. But watching her grow was an inspiration.

Like many people, I was moved by her ability to connect with Daryl. You don't understand how hard that can be after abuse. It's been 14 years and I've still not been in another relationship. I may never be again. That kind of abuse leaves an indelible mark on you.

But with him she blossomed. Sexually, emotionally, and just as a human. I admired her ability to do that.

The trauma was still there though. We saw that. Her edges became too sharp. Her distance too cold. But I get it. I really, truly get it.

But through it all her relationship with Daryl remained. They were each other's North Star. Not perfect, but constant.

But the sad truth is, at the end of the day these characters don't belong to us. They are written by flawed humans with personal agendas and like with any long running series, the longer it runs the higher chance for writers to fuck things up.

Before I dive more specifically into tonight's episode and the Book of Carol let me just say that I still love Carol and I still love Daryl and I still love Caryl. If you want to stop reading here just know that Carol remains an icon to me for very personal reasons. But that is part of why I'm writing this.

Potential spoilers beyond the cut.

The writing this season is sloppy, imho. And this is where I put my writer hat on and try to look at things more objectively. It seems like Gimple is mining the past because it's "cool" and not because he actually wants to address any long standing trauma that Carol has.

Everyone's trauma journey is different and I get that. But after 14 years I doubt that Carol is going to start panicking when going into a barn. In fact, we've already seen her entering barns in early seasons without any issues. I wish the show had consulted some trauma experts. They could have provided some examples of things that might actually set her off. Like seeing a little girl walker. Or meeting a child named Sophia. And speaking of that, I know Carol is supposed to be tough and sneaky and all that but the episode where she lied about her daughter to get the plane really bothered me. If the memory of her daughter is so traumatic I feel like she would not use her daughter like that.

This reunion episode was a missed opportunity to explore trauma in a more meaningful way. It was a missed opportunity for Carol and Daryl to have some truly meaningful conversations. I know I've said this before but she FLEW ACROSS THE OCEAN. DURING AN APOCALYPSE. And all he basically did was grunt one liners at her and lie about how he never stopped trying to get back to her. These two deserve to have a real conversation where they talk about how incredible what she did was. They need to talk about what that means for each of them. And I'm not even talking about romance. Daryl has never had anyone do anything like that for him. Does he understand how profound an act that was? If he ever had any doubt as to how much Carol cared for him this should have erased it. And for Carol, this could also be a wake up call for her too. While being hard and cunning is good for survival, this is an opportunity for her to be vulnerable. To express what he means to her. Or to maybe even face any codependence she has with Daryl.

I feel bad what happened to Isabelle. It kind of feels like an FU to her character. As much as I love Caryl I'm not in support of fridging women for a ship or for man pain. I'm glad we got to see her and Carol together but I wish we could have seen them together a little longer. Again, there is a missed opportunity for some really interesting conversations.

I can't help but feel that this show is suffering under the leadership of male writers and showrunners. There's such nuance to be had here and it's being funneled down to base tropes. Genet is evil because her husband died. Carol is just now having flashbacks to something that happened a decade ago because we need her to grow emotionally and we can't think of another way to do that without mining her motherhood. Isabelle has to die because God forbid two adults actually have a conversation about emotions.

I honestly can't guess where this series is going right now. Every time I think I know what is going to happen something else happens instead. Normally this would be a good thing but here it just feels sloppy. Are they dicking around Caryl? Will they kill her? Or him? Or do they plan for this to go into more seasons? I haven't a clue. But it feels like whiplash, like they are trying to make the characters grow too quickly to fit an agenda without doing the real work people need to do. A hug from an old lady won't cure trauma.

I think mostly I just wish Carol and Daryl would have a real conversation before all this is over.

Anyway, that's my rant. I did like the old married couple joke in the car. And I'm glad Carol's not dead. But I hope we get to see some real connection.

[hcneygemini]

𝖝. 𝖆. 𝖓. 𝖆. — lyrics sentence starters.

A collection of sentence starters from some singles released, minus anything featured in Tantrums ( the meme featuring those is here ). Do not add to or steal this meme. Feel free to change pronouns, edits phrasing, or generally slightly edit or combine lines as needed. Some lines have already been slightly rephrased for rp purposes. tw: cheating, toxic relationships, suggestive

MONSTER

i hold your mistakes high over your head, especially when they look like mine.

i'm not one to hand out forgiveness.

it pains me to admit you were right.

someday i will be someone you resent.

honey, the pleasure is all mine.

i heard you're calling me a traitor.

i owe you a good apology, i'll do it later.

i paint myself the good guy.

i heard you're calling me a monster.

after all the shit i pulled, you could do better.

i'll do what i want over what's right.

you gave me your all.

it was intimate.

i guess it ain't your fault that i can't commit.

i never listen.

i couldn't help but feel so indifferent.

all my failures are visceral.

i still taste blood from years ago.

you ain't good enough.

i can't even be honest with myself.

how could you believe i'd do that for someone else?

i don't want that life.

i'm kissing boys in the back of their cars.

it's half past 3.

you were fast asleep while i was on the phone with [ Jodie ].

will i ever know why i am like this?

i go for what i can't have, like i'm righteous.

i can't face the shame.

if you wanna place blame, just say my name.

i go home alone and i think it's strange.

i got what i want but it don't taste the same.

everyone who's ever loved me is the enemy.

i get high on all the jealousy.

you can't forgive the infidelity.

i don't wanna be someone who lives like that.

i was supposed to be a good friend, trusted.

i snuck around with the love of your life.

after all the shit i pulled, you should do better.

HOMEWRECKING ERA

wrap your thighs around me.

i could keep all your secrets.

cross my heart and hope i mean it.

think of all the damage i could do.

say less.

push me on the counter.

call me princess.

wish i could say no, but it's hopeless.

i'm losing focus.

i wonder if [ she ] knows about those pictures on your phone.

you should feel guilty, but you don't.

i'm in my homewrecking era.

got things i wanna do to you.

i feel bad for a minute.

you make me feel so good.

i taste something bitter in my mouth.

i left my bralette on the ground.

i can't help myself.

nobody fucks like me.

i'm the [ girl ] of your dirty dreams

the silence is deafening.

do you miss me?

i think [ she ] can taste me.

i can give you what you want.

we called it love.

we might've fucked it up.

baby, just fuck me up.

i'm the flame that keeps you warm at night.

don't i bring out the green in her eyes?

you like how pretty [ she ] is when [ she ] cries.

[ she ] loves you so much, even the lies.

we're both the one, but never the only.

you get so lonely

crown me the villain and hero tonight.

fucking me brought you together so nice.

i got a taste for the drama.

i spilled your guts 'cause i wanted.

look at all this damage that i do.

BETTER KIND OF BEST FRIEND

i can see [ her ] in my dreams.

i see [ her ] in my bed.

[ she's ] the goddamn vision that ringin' in my head.

i'm waitin', patient.

we could be good together.

let me release the pressure.

i think i found my treasure.

[ she ] tastes like heaven and she knows it.

i'm eager.

i just wanna please you.

she's got me prayin'.

i could be a better kind of best friend.

i'm a fan.

i don't die for my [ women ] anymore.

i'll do anything to have you.

i swear to be true.

i don't die for my [ women ] anymore, i kill for them.

you don't need to ask, you got my permission.

lord knows we tried.

can't stay away from each other.

you know i'm a sucker.

watch as i swallow my pride.

i wanna make it intimate.

i've got my finger on the trigger.

they come and go.

YOU DON'T WANT ME LIKE THAT ( also by Rachel Bochner )

if you hated me it'd be easier.

i know what's coming is really gonna hurt.

if i hated you, i would've never tried.

it's a habit you conditioned.

i wonder if you know you're bad.

i wanna tell you that i miss you.

you wouldn't say it back.

you don't want me like that.

you don't want a picture of me sitting on your nightstand.

you don't wanna touch me in the way we both know you can.

you just like the way i feel stuck in the palm of your hand.

where do you get off on it?

i do the extra credit but you're never satisfied.

i keep you center stage.

you keep me on the side.

i'm crossing all the lines.

you won't call it what it is.

you just call me when you're blue.

the fantasy is cute.

i would give you all i have.

i stay up waiting for you.

i can't keep waiting.

BABYBLUE

baby blue was always your color.

it's a little strange how we're seeing each other.

god, you look just as i remembered.

it's been a few years.

i've known you forever.

you packed your bags and moved to [ Boston. ]

you needed a place that you could get lost in.

time will tell.

you got my youth on your bedpost.

say it ain't so.

our picture's getting dusty.

you smell vanilla and don't think about me.

i hope it's alright, your life without me.

you ran to my house in the pouring rain.

i've cried every damn day since you left.

i don't mind if i never get over it.

i've been watching reruns.

i should call my little sister, i worry about her all the time.

you hold other hands.

i'm biting my tongue.

you're making new plans.

i'm coming undone.

i watch your old films.

looking at it now, i think i love you still.

i try to be cool.

if i never say a word, does it make it less true?

i feel the time go.

i fear the unknown.

it's getting so old.

all of my anxieties are filling up my diaries.

the water ran cold.

there's so much i don't know.

i think i gotta go.

you see green and don't think about me.

BAD BANDIT

i've been lonely for awhile now.

i'm tired of this ghost town.

[ she ] looks pretty on [ her ] poster.

i'm thinking i could hold [ her ].

i want you on my body.

won't you face it?

you wanna make or break it.

you wanna feel me naked.

i'll show you how to take it.

count your blessings when the devil ain't got nowhere to go.

maybe i'm bratty.

i taught that [ man ] a lesson.

[ he ] was charming and i loved [ him ].

[ his ] urges were disgusting.

i bed [ him ] down to nothing.

that little [ lady ] wanted love.

it's such a damn shame.

you better run, babe.

[ she's ] taking aim.

[ she ] promised me [ her ] best.

i could see forever in [ her ] golden eyes.

my baby told me lies.

i swear i'm gonna die.

but i ain't the one biting the dust tonight.

i swear i'm gonna miss [ her ] for the rest of my days.

i still hear [ her ] voice.

BET YOU'LL GET OFF ON THIS

maybe in another year you might be different.

i'd rather not admit how many years i've been insisting.

you showed me your true colors.

you used to be the prettiest thing i'd ever seen.

what you said to me last sunday was disgusting.

i don't need to look at you to know you feel nothing.

you feel nothing.

maybe you like it better when i'm cool.

i don't give a shit.

did you really have to be so cruel?

all i ever did was try to love you.

i don't know who you are.

i saw the façade slip, and it was alarming.

i'm left with confusion.

how did you not ever learn to be human?

what did i expect?

you never grew up.

you think you're so deep, but you're so out of touch.

[ Natalie ] was right when [ she ] said that you were heartless.

i don't ever want you to touch me again.

i really can't stand the way you talk about your [ girlfriend ].

bet it hurts to know i'm no longer your forever.

i won't hold my breath, but i hope you get better.

i don't wanna belittle my love.

all we ever did was try to love you.

[jennay]

Stay Strong

Request: What if the reader has struggled in the past with depression and even attempted suicide. She wants Nick to give her her first tattoo since she wants something that she can look at to continue to push her through her tough times. Noah will be there with her holding her hand while she gets it. He has been her rock and has helped her through her struggles.

Warnings: Talks of Suicide/depression/cursing/angst/regret....not in huge detail but enough to warn.

Master list

An: I lied I posted it tonight. Hope you enjoy this one! I tried to give a background story to make the tattoo more meaningful. If you want to be tagged in future Noah stuff let me know!

I'm still taking request for now too!

Life hadn't been the kindest to you, and even though you wore a smile on your face and told everyone you were OK, there was a piece of you that felt you would never get better.

How do you cure depression?

The medications made you feel like a zombie, and counseling never seemed to do the trick no matter how hard you tried; every day was a fucking battle, one you didn't want to fight.

The first attempt you made to end your suffering, you were just thirteen. You'd barely experienced the joys of life but had lived through enough trauma to make you not see the light at the end of the tunnel.

The second time, you were fifteen. You spent two weeks in a mental health facility, and you felt you were on top of the world. You would concur life and vowed never to feel that way again.

You hated the look on your mother's face, and you watched Noah slowly back away from you. Seeing how your choices affected your closest friends and family brought more pain.

You promised Noah it wouldn't happen again; he didn't need to fear losing you because you would get better.

It stopped for a few years, and you were convinced you were better, but two years later, your mother passed away, and it all started again. You were devastated, heartbroken. You didn't want to live without her. You moved in with your brother, and life changed completely. No more routine, no more late-night movies, no more mom hugs, and no more mom. Why was life so cruel to you?

A month later, Noah and you lie in bed talking about your dreams, hopes, and plans. You lived talking about these things with him. He always had the biggest ambitions and greatest desires, and then he dropped a bomb on you. He told you he was leaving, and you couldn't handle it.

The idea of living without him puts you in the darkest pits of hell. The one who talked you through things, who made you feel better, your rock, was leaving you to move to a different state. In that moment, you realized no one actually gave a shit about you. Everyone would leave you, and it was only a matter of time. You lied and told him you were happy for him and that someday you'd visit him, but you wouldn't.

Six months after Noah left, you couldn't do it anymore. You didn't want to and couldn't tell your brother. You stopped going to school, you laid in bed and cried. You lost your mother and Noah all in the same year. Life didn't feel worth living.

Noah remembered the day he got the phone call. He thought your brother was lying.

"They don't know if she's going to recover," Ben told Noah. "I don't know what to do or who to call. It's not like our mom and dad are around anymore." He sadly sighed.

Noah took a one-way flight back to you. He didn't know how long he would stay but knew he needed to get home to you.

You woke up in a hospital bed with Noah sleeping next to you. You couldn't remember what happened, but it couldn't be good if you were in a hospital.

You and Noah got into a huge fight when you were released from the hospital. He told you he wasn't going home until you went to rehab for your mental health. He wanted to pawn you off; at least, that's how you felt.

"Fuck you! You left me! This is your fault you screamed at him. "I don't want you here, Noah. I hate you. I hate you so much!"

Noah threw you over his shoulder, with you kicking and screaming as he walked up the stairs and into your bedroom. He set you on your bed, sat in your computer chair, and rolled in front of you. He hated this for you. He hated seeing your eyes red and puffy; he hated seeing your body tremble out of anger, but most of all, he hated that you hated him.

Noah tried his best to remain calm, but the more he stared at you, the sadder he felt. His eyes watered, but he quickly wiped them and leaned forward. His Brown eyes wandered your face. "What are we going to do?" He quietly asks.

You shrug, shaking your head, "I don't wanna be here anymore."

"Then don't." He pauses, leaning back in the chair, "Come to California with me."

You raise your eyebrow, knowing a fresh start could be nice. "OK." you quietly say.

Noah smiles, "This doesn't get you out of therapy, though… that's my number one requirement. You want to come with me? You need to get help."

You agreed.

You excitedly pull out your phone and show your boyfriend and Nicholas your chosen design.

"This is it," you say with a smile, feeling adrenaline. The tattoo is simple yet elegant, with cursive lettering that spells "Stay Strong" on your ribs.

It's a phrase that has helped you through many tough times in your life, and you want to make it a permanent part of you.

Noah beams with pride at the person you've become today, ten years. You have faced many challenges and obstacles but never gave up and continued to grow. You have overcome your fears and insecurities and learned to love yourself and others. You are his inspiration and his soulmate. "Yeah, it's to the point," Noah says. "Stay Strong is a good motto to live by." He squeezes your hand and kisses your forehead.

You nod, "I thought it was fitting." You look at Nicholas, who has been patiently waiting for your approval. He grabs your phone and observes the photo a bit longer. He likes the placement of the tattoo and the cursive lettering. He thinks it will suit your body and personality well.

"Let's get started," he says with a grin.

He leads you to the tattoo table and instructs you how to lie down and position yourself.

You feel the cold stencil being placed on your side, and you shiver slightly.

You smile graciously at Nicholas, who asks you if you are ready. You nod, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. Noah holds your hand throughout the process and encourages you whenever you flinch or cringe.

He reminds you how brave and strong you truly are. He whispers he loves you when he sees the tiny tears in the corner of your eyes.

He tells you how beautiful you are and how much he admires your courage.

"Fuck," you say when it's all done. "That was the weirdest sensation. It hurt but tickled all in one." You laugh, feeling a sense of relief.

Noah chuckles as you sit up, "Yeah, shit hurts." He reaches out his hand, helping you off the table, and wraps his arm around you, holding you close. "But it's worth it," he adds.

"Check it out," Nick says, pointing to the body mirror. You smile at the reflection in the mirror, admiring his work. The tattoo is simple yet holds so much meaning to you. It's a reminder of your strength and resilience and how far you've come. It's a symbol of your journey and your growth. It's a tribute to your past and a promise for your future. You feel proud of yourself and grateful for the people who have supported you along the way.

Noah stands behind you, watching you intently. He leans down, kissing you on the cheek. "I'm so proud of you, babe." He whispers in your ear.

You turn around, facing him. You smile at him, puckering your lips for a kiss, and Noah doesn't hesitate to fill that need. "I love you." you happily say. "I love you too, beautiful," he replies, looking into your eyes.

You hug him, feeling complete and happy. You have a new tattoo, a new memory, and a new reason to stay strong.

@thisbicc @yumikitten @lma1986 @chemicallady @niicoleleigh @waake-meee-up

[moinstar]

Lesson 12-18 

Someone is running their hand through my hair... ...It feels like a large hand with a gentle touch.

"...You should've heard how excited Belphie was. He said he'd taken your hand and was drifting off to sleep beside you, when suddenly it felt like you squeezed his hand. He thought that maybe you'd woken up." 

Lucifer sighs as he continues to caress my hair. I can't move my body but I can hear him well. 

"My brothers have been going through an emotionally fraught period lately. Thanks to the fact that you show no signs of waking. Really, what kind of attendant just lies there in bed at a time like this?" 

There's the a bit of scolding in his voice but he sighs again. 

"There are plenty of questions I'd like to ask you, you know. What are you — a human — doing here in the Devildom? How did you get here? Why do you have my ring?" 

He sighs again as I feel my hand being held on his, caressing the Ring of Light on my ring finger. 

"Why would you want to protect us? When you stood there with that grimoire in hand, I was at your mercy. You could've forced me to do whatever you wanted, couldn't you?" 

He chuckled as he tells the tale of his beloved little sister who perished in the Great Celestial War. It hurts to hear about their pain all over again. It happened a long time ago, back when I was still immature and convinced myself that they only looked at me hoping to find Lilith. But I understand now, the pain of losing someone you love and never seeing them again. My heart wants to cry for him, for them. 

I tried reaching for him but I couldn't move yet again. 

"Lilith fell in love with a human." He cups my hand and held it by his face. His warm breath softly tickles my skin.

"Angels are forbidden from interfering in the lives of humans. So to actually fall in love with one is unthinkable. I told her she could never visit the human world again. I tried to convince her, but she wouldn't listen to me. She said that someday the same thing would happen to me. I'd meet someone I loved so deeply that I'd be willing to throw away everything for them. And then I'd finally understand how she felt." 

He goes on on how this love brought chaos to their peaceful realm and their Fall. On how he will keep the truth about Lilith till the end of time and wanting to protect his brothers. 

"Having to carry this secret... it's like a dagger through the heart. I wonder, was it like that for you? All that time hiding the fact that you were human... did you feel the same way I do? I want to know. I want to hear you tell me yourself, Moin..."

He sighs again. He leans into my hand and held it by his cheek.

If only I could, Lucifer. If only I could tell you I came from the future where angels, demons, and humans are steadily getting united. Where you and your brothers are free from the guilt of your past, living with smiles on your faces. I want to tell everything. But I can't. And just as you said, it feels like a dagger stuck on my heart. I grow scared for you and for everyone here. Because I'm here, where I don't really belong. 

"What do I do? How am I supposed to deal with this? The truth is, it's lonely without you around. And I miss you. Wake up, Moin..."

I felt his warm hand cup my cheek and his warm breath by my forehead as he leans to kiss it.

And the light from the ring shines brightly.

[flower-seeks-the-moon]

fandom: the house in fata morgana

relationships: michel bollinger/giselle

characters: michel bollinger, giselle

words: 1000

Written for ficwip's 1000 words challenge, using this month's image prompt.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

She retraces the steps back towards that old mansion with a patience borne out of a thousand years of waiting; the memories that guide her are like a faded old map, leading her towards these strangely obscure, beautiful places in the world.

It's a paltry consolation from the world towards the maid. Giselle likes to think of it that way, lest the despair come creeping back with every gorgeous but soulless old ruin that she stumbles into.

She wants her heart to remain pure and untainted by the bitterness she and him have endured, in this life; he deserves a woman who can smile as brightly as the sun he used to fear, didn't he?

So. No need to be disappointed when the old mansions and towers she seeks out don't hold who she misses.

She'll find him someday, whether she has to travel to all the dilapidated old mansions. Be it France or Portugal, the United Kingdom or the United States.

Her friends and family think her an odd one. An eccentric, with her hobby of traveling and seeking destinations far off the beaten path.

“I wonder...” She says, the seawater rising around her sandaled feet. “Could she have felt less despair if she was able to hear the cries of the seagulls and smelled the salt in the air from her window?”

She would have complained about the noise, and you'd have been the unfortunate listener to that for decades, he tells her, his voice deep and resonant, untouched by the sounds of the wind rushing past her ears and whipping long, ebony hair about her head.

Giselle isn't even certain if he sounds nearly as handsome. She cannot confirm until she sees him again and holds him in her arms, but she'll have to content herself with her imagination.

She has to. Her fingers remain steady and certain as she ties her hair back. Didn't she used to tie his up when it got in the way of their chores around the mansion?

“Oh, I'm sure even a catankerous old witch's heart would soften if she listened to the ocean.”

Morgana never got to see the ocean, even during Bestia's time.

She hopes that girl would get to see the golden wheat fields that the Italian was muttering about in his final days on his deathbed.

His feet don't leave impressions in the ground as he walks alongside her, their feet carrying them towards the tower. She leaves a single set of footprints in the sand as she hums a tune that she remembers by heart.

Is that Nellie's song? He looks at her, sunlight streaking past the curtain of white hair cascading around his shoulders. His long, pale lashes lower in thought. There's a faint curve to his lips, like a rare flower.

Giselle resolves to make him smile as much as possible. Every day. Forever, until his cheeks burn from all the effort and laugh lines appear around his mouth and eyes. She didn't get to have her fill of that smile the last time.

Maybe she won't ever, even in this life.

“You remember that?“ She asks, delighted. “Ehe, she always had a pretty voice. She wasn't Morgana, but she was such a charming young mistress.”

The tower hugs the side of a cliff. It is a nice tower, but it's not their tower.

She knew it the second she caught sight of the foundation in the distance, but today is such a nice day for strolling and enjoying the warm weather with the man she loves by her side.

Inside the tower lies a spiral staircase. He offers her an insubstantial hand as they walk up the steps, and she wills herself to feel the warmth of his palm against hers as her gut tightens in a remnant of the fear she once felt.

The top of the tower is empty except for a rickety old chair and what looks like a knife left behind by some other explorers like her.

She carves their names into the wall, by the window, as he watches.

Giselle? He says. When you find me again, can we hold hands and walk like this together?

“You owe me a thousand years of dates, master,” Giselle says, slipping into old habits as she breathes the sea from the window. “Holding hands is the least you can do.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Don't pass out from embarrassment, okay?”

I would never let go of your hand again in this lifetime, Giselle.

When she looks behind her, there's nothing but empty space.

Giselle traces the faint M x G, encircled with a heart, and decides to take a few more snapshots of this place. She has a scrapbook of all the places she wants him to see with her.

He looks up at the tower, squinting past the faint discomfort of being out in the sunshine. The sand is getting under the soles of his feet and between his toes. How did she convince him to wear sandals, again?

The radiant grin that greets him when he looks over his shoulder makes him shake his head. Of course, that's how.

Giselle sighs happily. “This was one of my favorites. Come on, I've got something to show you up inside!”

Her hand tightens around his as she leads him up the tower.

Michel's chest feels stuffy; how many spiral staircases has Giselle walked up, alone, searching for him in all these lonely places in the world? At least their hands are warm this time, not cold and clammy from fear and sweat.

The top of the tower is nothing special in his eyes. Not until she's inside it. Then, it's memorable.

She leads him to the window, and a dubious grin stretches his lips when he catches a small detail beside it.

“Oh, Morgana would hate this even more and she's going to call us cringe, and you know it.”

“Wanna take a photo and send it to her?”

fin.

[skyler10fic]

Lightning Strikes Twice, Ch. 14

Summary: An epic battle finale!!!

Notes: Hope you all have enjoyed reading along as much as I enjoyed writing this!

Read on Ao3

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

While Skye was making prison friends, Carol was having an even less fun time being restrained and forced to confront the Supreme Intelligence. 

“Just tell us you want a second chance, dear,” offered the kind older woman who served as the AI’s avatar for Carol.

“Mar-vell would have never asked me to beg for my life,” Carol spat out. “She taught me kindness and decency, and how to tell truth from lies!” 

The avatar laughed. “Apparently not well enough, hm? You honestly thought all those poor little tribes on all those horrid little planets were in need of rescue? You stormed in and saved the day, taking out rebels defending their homes, thinking you were crushing terrorists with your decency and kindness and your radiant powers. That’s not how this universe works, Captain. You’re alive not because of some inhuman or Mar-vell or even Yon-Rogg out there. You’re alive because I WILL IT.” 

Carol snarled in response. “Someday, I will destroy you so you can’t hurt anyone anymore.” 

“I’ve heard enough,” the Supreme Intelligence raised her palm in dismissal. “But Yon-Rogg has convinced me that your powers are worth salvaging so I’ll be merciful this once. Apologies that you can’t say goodbye to your little pet in the inhuman holding cell downstairs.” 

The smile that had reassured Carol a thousand times, helping to raise her into something more than the Kree intended, now twisted into a sadistic grin. It sickened Carol to see this face worn by the Supreme Intelligence long after the real Mar-vell had been killed in action. Carol began to wonder if Mar-vell’s death wasn’t an accident or a simple war casualty. She wouldn’t put it past the Kree to engage in friendly fire to take out a liability. 

The Supreme Intelligence withdrew, and Carol was thrust back into reality, handcuffs and all. Natasha pulled her up off her knees roughly. 

“What’s the verdict, then?” Yon-Rogg inquired. “Did you do as I told you to?” 

“Go to hell,” Carol responded, repeating a phrase Skye had taught her from Earth slang. 

“I’ll take that as a no then.” Yon-Rogg frowned and clapped his hands in finality. “Ms. Romanov, escort the captain here to the re-education ward. Zxan-Darr can show you the way.” 

Pierce cleared his throat and started off down the hall. When they passed a large glass outer wall, Carol did a double take. The stars had a weird effect to them. At first, she thought it was the wall, perhaps a hologram or a fake space scene of some sort, but the effect seemed to be approaching. 

Static sounded in her ear. “Don’t respond,” came Maria Rambeau’s voice. “But your ride has arrived.” 

The soft click of triggers being pulled sounded in the background. 

“Knock knock,” Melinda quipped. “Sensors disabled. Doors open in 3-2-1…” Another click and the floor beneath her trembled as the bay door opened. 

Carol couldn’t help but exhale in relief and steal a quick glance at Natasha as she must have heard the same. 

They had a way home. 

—----------  

“Skye, Carol, Natasha,” Maria Rambeau addressed. “We’ve landed. We’ll head to the inhuman floors first. Natasha, can you handle freeing Carol and getting to the ship?” 

Natasha made sure there were no guards in sight before she answered. “It’d be my pleasure.” 

“Who are you talking to?” Pierce demanded as he whipped around, but Natasha wasted no time. With a punch and a swipe of her leg, Pierce was on the floor. He scrambled up, but Carol brought down her thick handcuffs on his head. 

She grabbed his thumb and pressed it to the sensor on the cuffs, and they clicked open. She kicked his gut and chirped, “Thaaank you!” 

“Incoming.” Natasha nodded behind them, where a door opened to guards shouting and running their way. 

Carol blasted a burst of light at them and nearly giggled in delight despite the obvious danger. Having her powers back was rejuvenating, like she was back to her full self again. 

They ran toward the closest staircase and climbed down as fast as they could, with the commotion behind them growing louder with each floor. An alarm blared, and Carol resisted the urge to cover her ears. They had to press on, no matter what, if this plan had any hope of working. 

Panting, Carol led Natasha down corridor after corridor, blasting hot white light in the direction of anyone who got in their way. She ushered Natasha past a set of heavy doors and locked them in. 

“Maria, we’re right outside the airlock. What’s your status?” Carol asked.

“We could use your help up here,” Maria whispered. “We’re trapped in an entry point. A guard is checking Skye’s floor, but he’s using some sort of code to get the doors open on each side and we can’t get through.” 

“I don’t know the code,” Carol admitted, “but I can come provide firepower.” 

“I’m in,” Natasha agreed. “Looking through the window on the door to the docking bay, the guards in the bay are still iced with no replacements in sight.”

Up in the prison cell, Skye exhaled in relief. “Okay, the guard here is gone. Carol, if you can get here and blast us out, I can handle installing the virus. I still have the USB drive. And I have two friends who are coming home with us.” 

—----------- 

At this, Lincoln and Joey exchanged a glance through the bars. 

“What?” Skye asked. “You said you’d help us get out, right?” 

“We’ll help,” Joey reassured. 

Lincoln hung his head and then stepped in close to Skye. Damn he was gorgeous. Her heart was spoken for, but her sense of art appreciation was fully intact. He leaned in close to her ear so the others could hear. 

“I have a different plan,” he said softly. “You help us take down the Kree systems, including these inhibitors, and we help you escape.” 

Skye pulled back a few inches to read his expression. He came off so gentle, but there was a hardness there. A rebellion had been living in his heart and the heart of his people—her own people—for generations. She nodded. “Deal.” 

“Who was that?” Carol asked. 

“We’ll find out when we get there,” panted Natasha. “Stay focused. On your left!” 

Scuffling told the rest of them that Carol and Natasha were incapacitating Kree guards one by one. 

Melinda remarked casually, “I should probably explain that I took out the surveillance systems on the quadrant we came through with Fitz’s EMP bullets, so no squads, but you’ll encounter some surprised Kree on the way going about their duties.”

“Yeah, I got that!” Natasha retorted. “Thanks!”

“Anytime. And hurry up.”

Skye conveyed the action to Lincoln and Joey, “They’re on their way. I trust you two to know what you’re doing as soon as they arrive?” 

Lincoln stood ready, looking every bit the rebel warrior that he was about to become. “I can take out the power to the inhibitors once I’m on the other side of those doors, but you’ll need to crack the ceiling all the way through so Joey can destroy them. Do you think your powers can handle that?” 

“Hell yeah,” Skye scoffed. “Joey, can you open the rest of the doors to let out anyone else who can help?” 

He frowned. “Yeah. As long as the inhibitors are off, I can do it.” 

Preparing for the mass chaos they were about to unleash on the space base, Lincoln and Joey told Skye more about the other inhumans who were in on the dream of rebellion and their powers as they waited. Skye had so many questions about inhuman culture, but they had so little time. Lincoln gave her names of the few inhumans he had heard of that either won their freedom in battle or escaped from Kree colony planets to Earth, but for most inhumans, life was confined to the whims of the Kree. Skye wondered aloud how they had kept their hope alive in the face of impossible odds.

“We can’t afford despair,” Joey explained. 

“We’re survivors. Always have been.” Lincoln’s determination in those simple words shot through Skye’s sheltered heart. Her life hadn’t been perfect, but the future she would have had here in captivity was strikingly different. Her ancestors and her people had been waiting for this window of opportunity for generations, preparing for the day it would come.  

Eventually, they heard a struggle and photon blasts. 

“Get ready!” Maria shouted through the comms. Two more blasts and the prison door opened, sending off a blaring alarm. 

“Stand back,” Skye instructed to Joey and Lincoln. In seconds, Carol blasted Skye’s cell door open. Skye noticed the inhibitors in the ceiling didn’t stop Carol, but each blast took focused effort.

“That one too!” Skye called and pointed to Joey. 

As soon as she blasted Joey’s door open, Carol ran into Skye’s cell and kissed her quickly but deeply. “C’mon, let’s get that virus in their systems so we can go home.” 

“Not just that,” Skye said, already racing to the nearest computer terminal, in the entryway between prison floors where Maria and Melinda had just been trapped. “Remember Dr. Campbell? He and Joey are going to do something much bigger: freeing the inhumans to fight back.”

Carol noticed Lincoln for the first time. “It’s you!” 

“You’re welcome.” He smirked. “Help me bust out some more friends while she works?” 

“Anything you need.” Carol followed him back to the cellblock and started opening doors, aided by Joey, who served as a familiar face to the terrified imprisoned inhumans. 

Lincoln backed as far away from the block as he could and concentrated. His powers were still dampened, but he just needed one electrical shortage, directed to the right powerlines… 

A hiss, and the inhibitors stopped their buzzing. Skye sighed in relief. “That sound was driving me nuts.” 

“Sound?” Melinda asked, keeping watch for any guards. 

“Only you can hear it because of your sensitivity to vibrations,” Lincoln explained. “I could feel it.” 

Skye finished her typing, which had been much slower than normal, since this keyboard was in Kree, a language she had limited experience reading. And she was doing more than she originally planned. Her virus preventing the Kree’s return to Earth was a small piece in the devastation she was working to send cascading through their computer systems. If she could liberate her people, it wouldn’t just be with her inhuman powers but with Shield-trained expert hacking skills no other inhuman had been allowed to learn.  

“Guard that and don’t touch it,” Skye instructed to Maria, who nodded. “Let’s go take down some inhibitors.” 

With the cells empty and the prisoners huddling together at the other end of the hall, Skye and Joey made quick work of the disengaged inhibitors in the ceiling. The inhumans all visibly relaxed and then cheered. 

On that end of the cellblock, Joey peeled the exit door back as if it were a very heavy curtain. “I  have to help Skye and her friends escape, but you all go free the rest. Take out the power, smash the encasing, then I’ll come melt ’em so they can’t be used again.” 

A man who resembled an arrangement of small, dark boulders grunted and punched up in the air. “You’ve got it, bro.” 

He took the hand of a gorgeously tanned woman with sharp elf-like ears who materialized a sword made of lightning in her other hand. She said only, “We’re ready.” 

“Alisha,” Lincoln called, running up to one of the inhuman freed women. “Take care of them.” 

“I will.” She pecked a kiss on his cheek, and then duplicated herself to surround the group as they headed off to free the others. 

Joey, Lincoln, and Skye rejoined Carol, Melinda, Maria, and Natasha. 

“It’s done,” Skye announced and removed her USB drive. “Hey Sparky, can you take out their comms system?” 

Lincoln nodded and floated using static electric, high enough so he could place a hand on a speaker. With a crackle and a surge that made the lights flicker, the entire Kree audio and visual communications system went out, first in their quadrant and then in a chain reaction, all over the base, section by section. 

“Let’s go,” Melinda commanded. The group climbed the stairs as quickly as they could, with Carol and Lincoln leading the way and Skye and Joey watching all their backs. Melinda, Maria, and Natasha kept a lookout for the first signs of trouble, but when it came, it wasn’t subtle. A group of blue, heavily armed Kree ran in their direction to head them off before they could get to the corridor that would take them to the bay where their ship was waiting. 

Carol sent photon blast after blast ahead of them at the approaching Kree. The human women shot their icers and fought those who made it through hand to hand, disarming their attackers with speed and precision, even though they weren’t strong enough to take them down. Skye blasted vibrations as she fought, sending weapons flying out of the way while Lincoln shocked them with lightning bolts from his hands. Joey tightened the Kree armor around the attackers and melted the remaining metal weapons in their hands until they were defenseless on their knees, trapped in their own protective gear. 

Blasts and booms and punches clamored throughout the corridor. The more warriors that came to help, the more crowded the floor became with iced, killed, and otherwise unconscious Kree bodies. 

“I’ll take care of these,” Joey volunteered, gathering the Kree weapons into a pile. He melted them into puddle. A very shiny, slippery metal puddle strategically in the middle of the walkway, forming an obstacle for the Kree to have to cross. The puddle got too hot, however, and instead opened a gaping sinkhole in the floor. The floor’s supporting structure began to crumble in front of a horrified Joey. “Uh oh.” 

“This way!” Carol shouted and blasted open a door that led to the docking bay. More footsteps marched in echoes behind them. “Go, go, go!” 

Once they were through the doors, everyone but Lincoln and Joey took off running to the ship across the bay floor. Lincoln and Joey hung back but kept a lookout for any Kree attackers. 

Skye noticed and slowed. “You’re sure you’re not coming?!” 

Lincoln shook his head and waved them on. “We have work to do here. Thank you, all of you, for helping us set it into motion!” 

“We’ve been waiting for the right time, and now we’ve got it!” Joey pumped his fist in the air on each syllable as he shouted, “Inhumans!” 

Skye returned the gesture. “Inhumans!” 

Lincoln sent her one more of his crooked bad boy smiles, then caught sight of a Kree warrior approaching. The two inhuman men returned to the fight. Part of Skye clearly felt pulled to help, but Carol touched her shoulder. 

“Let’s go home,” Carol offered. “They’ve got this.” 

Skye nodded as they climbed into the Saber ship. “They’ve been planning all their lives for this.” 

Melinda turned around from the pilot’s seat and winked. “I may be able to help with that, if Carol doesn’t mind a little field trip.”

“I get to fly in space?” Carol confirmed. 

“Give me just a minute.” Melinda promised, making adjustments to her nav screen as Maria began flicking buttons. 

“Shield command,” Maria Rambeau addressed Maria Hill and Phil. “We are ready for blast off.” 

“You are go, Saber. All systems ready,” came Hill’s response. 

Melinda and Maria launched the ship, shooting one of the ship’s mounted rifles at the door open button on the way out to open the docking bay to the expanse of space. 

“Whoa,” Skye exhaled. She hadn’t seen it on the way in. Carol watched Skye’s wonder, reawakened to the awe and majesty of the universe on display in front of them.

“Carol,” Melinda said, punching buttons on her screen. “I’m going to fly over their weakest shielding point. If you can blast through it with all you’ve got, they won’t be able to trail us. Be quick, though. I’ll have to turn off cloaking to open the airlock.” 

“Got it.” Carol stood ready at the airlock door until Melinda opened the interior one to let her through to the pressurization chamber. 

“Come right back when you’re done, young lady, do you understand?” Melinda teased. 

“No worries, Agent May. Couldn’t keep me away if you tried.” Carol looked back through the interior door window at Skye, who was watching her anxiously. 

“Please be safe,” Skye whispered. Carol winked and engaged the helmet built into her suit.

“NOW!” Melinda called and opened the exterior door. 

Carol ignited in radiant glory, her whole body glowing with angelic power as she soared through space and down to the base that held so much pain and trauma for her. She sliced through the shielding easily. If sound traveled in space, a loud war cry turning into a WOOO HOOOO would have been heard. She grew brighter, eyes glowing pure white, with her own personal supernova haze around her, making her hard for the rest of the Saber team to look at directly. She saw the base’s missile turrets turn on her and she sped toward them, wrecking them with sheer power. 

One after the other, she ripped through the base’s defenses on that side. The bay doors began to open again. 

“Carol!!!” Melinda called. “Get in here!” 

Carol zipped into the ship and powered down, the biggest grin on her face.

“I’m in!” she called and pushed the button to close the exterior door. She came inside and retracted her helmet. “That should buy the inhumans some time. And us.” 

“Everybody strap in!” Melinda commanded. Half a second later, they were in hyperspace, leaving the Kree base (now being mutinied into an inhuman stronghold) in the stardust.   

—------------ 

Phil and FitzSimmons rushed the team off the ship as soon as they landed back at Shield. Once inside the building, Phil and Melinda led the pack, hand-in-hand, with the rest falling in behind. Agents in the halls stepped aside as the team marched past. 

Fury sat at the head of a large conference table in a formal meeting room with the Shield logo looming large on the wall behind him. Hill sat beside him in the deputy director spot. The division director position was, obviously, empty due to Pierce’s vacancy. 

“Coulson,” Fury gestured to Pierce’s open chair. “You’re up for a promotion.” 

Melinda sat beside Phil, not caring if she was taking anyone’s assigned seat. Skye fell in line behind her, and Carol, naturally, next to Skye. Natasha and Maria Rambeau rounded out the other side. 

“Congratulations,” Fury began. “You have just completed the first mission of Saber. You have also had contact with alien lifeforms, and as such, must undergo our quarantine procedures. Dr. Simmons?”

He gestured to Jemma, who stood and pressed a remote. A picture of a tropical beach appeared. 

Jemma spoke, “In reward for your extraordinary service, and in accordance with our new medical debriefing procedures, you will all spend the next two weeks at our decontamination facility.” 

As Jemma flipped the slides through beautiful tropical photos, Melinda turned to look at Phil, impressed. “Is that Tahiti? You always were a romantic.” 

Phil smiled. “Shield-Tahiti. Close by the real thing, but a manufactured private island made for this purpose. Only other difference is it’s a family vacation this time instead of a honeymoon.” 

Melinda didn’t say anything but looped her arm under his and patted his bicep as they returned to the presentation. Yeah, he did good. 

Carol’s heart didn’t know she could be this happy. First the exhilaration of flying fully uninhibited in space, repaying her debt to the inhumans as she had sworn to do, contributing to the end (at least in part) of her former captors’ reign of terror, and now a mandatory two-week vacation with her girlfriend and new family? 

Fury barked, “Agent Danvers, approach.” 

He and Maria Hill stood as Carol blinked and then hesitantly obeyed. 

Hill opened a beautiful wood box to reveal a folded black leather rectangle. 

“Is that?” Carol whispered in awe. She’d seen Skye’s badge before, and the others had shown her theirs when explaining what Shield stood for and why they joined.   

Maria Hill nodded. Fury took the badge out of the box and placed it in one of her hands while taking the other to shake it. 

“Agent Danvers, welcome to Shield.” 

Skye let out a whoop of celebration and the others laughed and applauded until it became a standing ovation. 

Carol’s overwhelming joy turned to tears, which she quickly wiped away. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she laughed. “Sorry.” 

Skye rose and hugged her tight. “It’s okay. We do that all the time here when we’re too happy for words. After all, you’re only human.” 

This set everyone laughing again, and plenty of others joined her in the shedding of happy tears.  

Hill cleared her throat and held up a pack of N-95 masks from the medical ward. “Two weeks’ quarantine! You have until 3 p.m. to go pack, masking required in the hallways or around anyone not currently in this room. Don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to one of you. Dr. Simmons has taken charge of one of the residential elevators and will decontaminate it, just in case, when you depart. You’ll go home and then meet back in time for your flight. If you aren’t here at 3 p.m., you’ll be spending those two weeks in the medical ward instead. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Carol shouted a little too eagerly. They laughed again and filed out, Carol blushing brightly as Skye giggled by her side on the way. 

“Our first vacation as a couple,” Skye flirted as they walked down their apartment hallway alone. “I have a bikini you are going to like.” 

“Oh I bet I will.” Carol licked her lips and dropped her eyes suggestively to Skye’s chest. She pulled Skye in by the hips. 

Skye slapped at Carol’s arm but didn’t step away. “Don’t start that! We have to pack and get back downstairs.” 

“We have a little time.” Carol leaned in and Skye reciprocated. Her tone and volume dropped into seriousness. “I tried to hide it up there, but I was so afraid my worst nightmare was coming true, and I was going to lose you to that place. Skye… I love you.” 

Skye melted into Carol’s embrace. “I love you, Carol Danvers.” 

Their lips met for a searing, passionate kiss with all the desperation of reunited lovers. They had been through trauma and terror in their lives others couldn’t begin to understand, but in each other, they had found the happiest of ever afters. 

The kind as rare as lightning striking twice. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Mummies

Monster Monday, October 23, 2023

Fic-tober Masterlist

Summary: When you discover there is no toilet paper in the dorm, you don't expect it to be the beginning of a mummy uprising.

Warnings: dialogue from and vague spoilers for The Mummy (1999), fluff, teasing, yet another confession fic, Professor Armagan gets a warning but I'm not saying why, a paintball gun?. 1.1k+ words.

A/N: This fic is all over the place and I don't actually remember writing parts of it but I kind of like it, which is unusual. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Does your bathroom have toilet paper?

It’s a weird text to wake up to, and if it were from anyone else, Dalton would have ignored it. After clicking your contact, the phone rings twice before you answer.

“Hey. Did I wake you?” you answer, your voice slightly raspy from sleeping.

“No,” Dalton lies. “You piqued my curiosity though. I’m assuming your bathroom doesn’t have toilet paper?”

“No, it doesn’t.” Dalton hears rustling sounds like you’re getting ready. “Chris is on the floor above you and apparently they don’t have any either.”

Dalton hums as he rolls out of bed and pulls on a sweatshirt. You ask him what he’s doing today, and he tells you all the mundane details on his way to the bathroom.

“But my afternoon’s free. And to answer your question, no, we don’t have toilet paper either.”

“Budget cuts or prank? Considering the month, I’m going with prank,” you respond lightly.

“I agree. Are we walking to class together?”

“If you want. You know you don’t have to, though.”

“I want to. I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thanks, Dalton. See you then.”

Ten minutes later, Dalton knocks on your door and smiles when you open it, looking as beautiful as ever. He tries to take your backpack, pouting when you refuse. As Dalton opens the door to walk out of the dorm building, his eyes on you, you stop and stare outside. Dalton steps toward you and turns to look, laughing as he takes in the view.

“We found the toilet paper,” you say.

“Well, if it ain’t my little buddy Beni. I think I’ll kill you,” one of the toilet paper mummies yells.

“Think of my children,” another responds.

“You don’t have any children.”

“Someday I might.”

Dalton rolls his eyes and wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you tight to his side as he turns onto the sidewalk and walks toward your class. There are people wrapped in toilet paper strolling on every sidewalk, some minding their own business and others jumping out to scare other students. When you pass the center quad, you see the fountain has also been TP’d.

“Any chance they all get expelled, and we finish the year in peace?” Dalton asks.

You laugh and shake your head, glancing up at him. “Nasty little fellows such as them always get their comeuppance.”

“Really, you too?”

“You can be Winston if you want.”

“’Here I come, ladies?’ No, thanks. I’d rather be Rick, since you seem to be Evelyn.”

You shake your head and continue walking. Around the corner from the art building, someone jumps out in front of you and yells, their arms crossed, acting like they just came out of a sarcophagus. Dalton’s arm tightens around your shoulders as you turn against him, pressing your face against his chest.

“Take your insult of fayum mummy portraits elsewhere,” Professor Armagan yells from the stairs leading to the art building. “Before you find yourself wishing you were in the afterlife.”

The offending mummy ducks his head and jogs past you, heading toward a crowd of them down the sidewalk. Dalton smiles at you as you turn to face Professor Armagan.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “Yet another reason you’re my favorite professor.”

Professor Armagan nods and says, “As you are my favorite student. Though I do not see your face in art classes near enough.”

You chuckle as Dalton makes an offended sound before asking, “I’m not your favorite?”

“You’re dating my favorite. Isn’t that enough?” Professor Armagan teases before walking inside.

“I didn’t tell her we were dating,” Dalton says as soon as she’s gone.

You look down at your feet before tilting your head to look at him. You say, “Maybe she just sees what we’re too scared to.”

“If you jump out of that bush I will shove you into a cursed tomb,” Dalton threatens when he hears movement behind him.

“Sorry, man.”

You bite your lip to refrain from laughing at the interruption during what could have been a big moment. Dalton sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“You’re right. I’ve known for a long time.”

“I have too.”

Dalton places his hands on either side of your neck, his thumbs brushing your jaw. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I like the idea of you dating Professor Armagan’s favorite student,” you respond lowly, grabbing Dalton’s jacket as you step closer.

“Guys!” someone yells, breaking the moment again. You look over and see Chris as she says, “You have to join me.”

Dalton turns and immediately closes his eyes as he shakes his head. Chris is wrapped in toilet paper up to her neck, several pieces dragging the ground behind her.

“Seriously, Chris? You too?” Dalton asks exasperatedly.

She looks between you and Dalton before asking, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Dalton says as you ask, “Why?”

“It’s fun,” Chris answers, shrugging. “What am I interrupting?”

“No mummies near the art building!” Professor Armagan shouts from inside.

You and Dalton laugh as you stare pointedly at Chris.

“Bye.” Dalton waves as Chris walks backward.

“Call me,” she tells you, pointing between you and Dalton. “I need every detail.”

“Not until you lose the toilet paper!”

Chris rolls her eyes as she turns and joins a group of similarly wrapped mummies. You shake your head and laugh at her again, turning to face Dalton again.

“I don’t think this is the place to have this conversation,” you whisper.

“Evelyn and Rick were in an ancient tomb.”

“They weren’t surrounded by stupid college kids wrapped in toilet paper.”

Someone runs toward the art building before falling backward, a large black spot staining their mummy wrappings. You turn, leaning against Dalton’s chest, to see Professor Armagan lowering a paintball gun.

“Professor Armagan, you get more amazing every time I see you,” you say.

She looks at you and smiles before she drops her smile to look at Dalton. “Do something before you lose the chance. I’ll hold them off.”

Dalton’s hands raise to your waist and turn you toward him, capturing your lips in a kiss that says more than any words ever could. You grab his jacket, unzipped at the top, and pull yourself closer as you move your lips against his. The paintball gun pops again, and you smile against Dalton’s lips. Dalton pulls back first, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Finally,” Professor Armagan sighs behind you before shooting another mummy.

“That was way better than Rick and Evelyn,” you say, smiling at Dalton.

“And Chris will hear all about it?”

“No way. She could have given me a heads up about the toilet paper situation. She’ll be lucky if I ever talk to her again.”

“You will.”

“I know but let me have this for a few hours.”

“You could always come to class with him,” Professor Armagan calls, eavesdropping shamelessly.

“I can’t be too mad about the mummies, though, can I?” Dalton asks, dipping his head to kiss you again.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

I really really hope you're right, this just killed my motivation for everything. What happened with Solomare's story jar already left a bad taste in my mouth too.

I know I'll feel better in a few days, but I felt lied to when they said they'd continue the story and the app. And it's going to be even lighter and fluffier and a replacement for the main story line? One that new players will perfectly fit into? I was so looking forward to learning more about what would happen to Simeon.

Also not announcing it until last minute? For once I'm really glad I can barely afford food, because I'd be devastated if I had spent even a dollar. But maybe that's just me being poor.

I'm mostly likely going to stop writing for a while until I've archived everything important from the app, which is gonna take ages just in case anyway.

But anyway, are there any recent events you thought were better than usual? I've been too sick to grind lately so I haven't unlocked them. I want to know which ones to archive as soon as possible once the six months are up.

Sorry for bringing the mood down and the rant, but you seem to be the only positive one I follow that isn't outright calling people stupid or pathetic for being upset so I'm really hoping your positivity rubs off on me.

I do hope you keep posting for Nightbringer too! I have several issues with my hands so I don't think I'll ever be able to see the end of the og story line, and I especially love your analyses out of anyone else's.

Okay okay so they are continuing the og app and continuing the story, the only difference is they'll be continuing the mainstory in nightbringer and the og app will just be getting events. So the og app will continue the way it has since the end of s4 and new main story content will be uploaded to nightbringer (the devs did says this)

Not sure what happened with story jar but Obey Me! is solmare's most popular game. Objectively, nothing solmare has created has ever come near to reaching om! And I'm talking purely in the money making side of it - the anime? mangas? songs? merch? cons? VAs getting heavily involved in everything? Solmare's a business. As long as there's a fandom and a demand for it they're not gonna kill the og app.

Plus the majority of om's content is on the og app, with new content and old events still being released. If they wanted to kill the og app they'd stop releasing new content and updating lonely devil.

Since nightbringer will be continuing the mainstory from where they left off, they'd also need to move all of S1-4 the chats, call & devilgrams to nightbringer if they were gonna kill the og - and I'd imagine that's more hassle than it's worth

I do think we'd learn more about what happened to simeon;

• devs said they'd be continuing the main story in nightbringer so that'd include simeon

• nightbringer's current plot is about time travel and mc trying to find a way back home - so they will end up back in the current time at some point, where simeon's whole thing can be addressed

• s3 established that luke wasn't alive when the brothers were angels. If they intended to keep mc in the past they'd either have to scrap luke's entire character (?????) or retcon s3 which so far dropped the most lore

• thirteen (who's supposed to turn into a LI)'s first visit to the devildom happens in s4 and in nightbringer's op we see her in Diavolo's castle. Which means we're seeing the present timeline as well

....i think you're maybe panicking a bit too much? You definitely don't need to archive anything anytime soon. For well all of the reasons I mentioned above.... Maybe someday you'd have to but definitely not right now

Honestly I liked all the events🤷

No worries! And Yeah I think the thing people are forgetting is that Nightbringer is STILL Obey Me! I'm definitely going to be still talking about it

Ok so I have an exam in 2 days and I think I've answered every possible question about Nightbringer you could possibly have so I'm calling it here.

Won't be answering new asks until sunday. Everything posted will be from queue.

If you want to see my others asks/answers regarding Nighbringer just hit the tag on this post

[little-peril-stories]

Intro: The Queen of Lies

AU for The Prince of Thieves / WC: keeps changing, will let you know someday

Masterlist | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

I sold myself to a loveless thing / And I walk'd to the altar and there I lied

C.W.S., Harper's Weekly, 7 July 1866

At a Glance

Genres: romance, historical, whump

POV/tense: 3rd-person, past tense

Small main cast; single narrator two narrators lol

You can enjoy the story without reading TPOT - the side characters just won't feel nearly as fleshed out here (I think so, anyway.)

tbh it's a romance with added bonus of torture, captivity, dread, angst, intimidation, and fun whumpy happenings

Description

THE QUEEN OF LIES is a tale of quiet courage, inner strength, and forbidden love—and the ways we can change our lives for the better if only we dare to take a leap of faith.

Four years ago, Breanna Cooper made a choice that altered the course of her life forever.

She stayed.

Instead of running away from a man she knew did not and could not love her, she remained—and became Mrs. Breanna Hatchett. Now she exists quietly in a life half-lived, striving to be the perfect wife and always falling short.

One day, a chance encounter in Constable Baden Hatchett’s prison brings her face to face with a captured thief from the notorious thieving gang Iustitia aecum. Though she swears she will forget the boy to whose brutal punishment she bears witness, it soon becomes clear that forgetting him is something she simply cannot do.

On a whim, for the first time in years, Breanna takes a chance and seeks out the thief—and yet again, her life is changed forever.

Vibes & Tropes

Forbidden love

Tragic backstory

“Who did this to you?”

Gazing through cell bars

"I'll fight for you"

“Why are you helping me?”

Gloomy skies, autumn leaves, rain & thunder

Against all logic and reason…

"I will always find you"

Alternatively, if you are a music-minded person, I collected some song lyrics that make me think of this story.

Cast of Characters

Main & Major Characters

BREANNA HATCHETT: Our heroine. Four years ago, she married into an abusive relationship, and since then she has been going through her life like a ghost, doing as her husband says and trying to be the perfect wife. When fate sends her careening into the story of an imprisoned thief, her entire world is rocked to its core.

FOX/THE THIEF: Our hero. If you’re new here, enjoy spending 50% of the story not knowing his name. Sharp-tongued and defiant, impulsive and reckless, the thief is determined to take his secrets to his grave to protect his family, if that’s what it takes. He is slowly losing hope…that is, until he is granted unexpected kindness by the least likely person imaginable. Suddenly, there’s more hope and light in his life than he ever expected to see again.

CONSTABLE BADEN HATCHETT: Our bad guy. Breanna’s husband. Vindictive, controlling, and manipulative, he wields his power and influence inside and outside the prison where he works as a constable. Above all things, he despises disobedience and disorder the most. When Breanna begins to take her life into her own hands, he will stop at nothing to gain control over her once again. Whatever it takes.

JUNIOR CONSTABLE CURTIS LENTON: A constable who is not-so-secretly pining for Breanna. He is a friend to her in the only way he knows how, but this means he is sometimes overprotective of her—to a fault.

DR. ALLAN ARMSTRONG DALE: A newly employed doctor who has a habit of getting in over his head no matter what universe he's in.

SPIDER: An elusive woman who helps to run the thieving gang Iustitia aecum.

HARE: The fourth and final member of IA’s inner circle.

WOLF/THE THIEF’S BROTHER: A mysterious character whose identity the thief goes to great lengths to protect.

ALICE: Breanna’s friend who encourages her to take more risks in her life.

Other Characters

MRS. BRISTOW: A nurse working at the prison. Better at the job than the medic.

MRS. DENNISON: The Hatchetts' housekeeper.

MR. GYSBORNE: The prison medic.

JUNIOR CONSTABLE MICHAELSON: A vicious officer who works under Baden Hatchett. Notable for his leering gaze and sadistic tendencies.

MARGUERITE: Breanna’s other friend.

DR. RICHARDS: The other, not-so-nice doctor.

INSPECTOR BULWELL: The head of the prison where Baden works.

MISS DUGFORD: A cruel bully of a nurse

FAQ

What will I like about TQOL?

Well, if you liked the thief’s snark in TPOT, then it’s, like, tripled, especially in the early chapters here. But this is a different story—far more romantic—and you might like getting to see a much softer side of him, too.

You might like Breanna’s character development from a very frightened and sheltered wife to a courageous young woman who is willing to take risks and face her fears.

If you like romantic tension, forced proximity, pining, and lots of caretaking/comfort, then I hope you’ll like this story!

How do I know if this story is for me?

You can check out the Contents/Warnings here. There are spoilers in that post, so click at your own risk.

For TPOT readers:

>>>>>

stop here if you don't want any vague spoilers for The Prince of Thieves!

>>>>>

What are the biggest differences between TPOT and TQOL?

Shorter. Fewer but often longer chapters. 3rd-person past tense.

There's the whole name thing. The name "Cooper" only shows up 3 times in the whole thing. "Mrs. Hatchett," on the other hand...

In TPOT, we know the thief’s name right away because he and two other inner circle members are POV characters. Breanna is the only POV character in TQOL........uh....listen. We just have to wait until she learns his name. For stylistic reasons.

Since Breanna didn't run away and never joined IA, all her serendipitous meetings with the thief in her past never happened. Her first encounter with him is in Chapter 1.

Obviously, since they're married, the relationship between Baden and Breanna—while strained and 100% toxic, problematic, and unhealthy—is not as antagonistic as it is in TPOT.

In the beginning, we get a little less existential dread because the thief isn’t expecting execution but rather long-term imprisonment, labour, or exile to a penal colony (no actual plot reason for this, I just wanted to play with the stakes and see how it changed the dynamics. because I can). This means that Ezra Johnston (the captured runner from TPOT) was never hanged and so we catch up with the thief in a slightly better mental state than the same point in TPOT.

Wolf and Jr. Constable Michaelson have reduced roles (compared to TPOT), while Jr. Constable Lenton (who literally only appears in two TPOT chapters) has an elevated role and gets a first name.

The time period is slightly different (because of reasons), but I doubt this is actually noticeable in the writing, only in my brain. I had to do a decent amount of research for this one particular plot thread, so now I know what decade we’re in lol.

What’s the same between TPOT and TQOL?

Well, Hatchett is still an asshole, and actually, so is the thief (affectionate)...he's still a snarky, potty-mouthed rascal. The IA setup is pretty much the same, the tattoo hasn’t changed, and the thief’s determination to keep the inner circle safe and out of Hatchett’s clutches is as strong as ever. On the IA end, everything up to the flogging has played out pretty much the same (see above q for a few lil differences). It's Breanna's life that has been wildly different.

In terms of tropes/plots….yes, I repeated a few. I don’t want to say them here bc spoilers but if you really want to know, send me a DM and I’ll spill which TPOT parts get their own AU twist.

Thanks for reading! <3 Hope you like it!

If you've made it this far, here's your reward:

Image ID: a square image of the external wall of a brick building with barred windows. White text reads: “No, not a hanging. It’s not for ladies to see or think of. No need to trouble yourself with such things.” End ID.

[karasbroken]

Y'all can zero-note these Sex Shop AU posts, it's all right. I'm tough. You'll get it someday. And I have been writing for both my WIPs this week, so be proud of me. The Leviathan is at 23,000 words, the still tentatively named Bite the Dust is almost to 5k. Bit by bit.

This snippet is from after Gilina signed her and John up for a couple's kink exploration session with a pro-domme, only to bail once she realized the domme in question was Aeryn Sonne, disgraced former RAAF pilot, responsible for ending the career of Gilina's mentor. Tim Valorek. (Okay, I admit that sounds really silly.) This is in the parking lot after, where John is confused, but relieved, he was not in a great headspace for trying out floggers anyway because he's dealing with panic attacks while driving. Hmm, this is starting to sound complicated, I'll just dump the excerpt now.

(Nothing spicy besides a kiss, but content warning for auto accident, and related flashbacks.)

“I'm so sorry about this. Let me give you a ride to your car, at least.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he reminded her, pinning her against the car with his body so he could lean in for another kiss. “Just a wild coincidence. We're going to laugh about this later.” She looked like she wanted to argue with him, so he kissed Gilina again to keep her quiet. “A little walk will clear my head though. So just head home, okay? Call my cell phone when you get there?” He couldn't let her drop him off. She'd see that he'd lied about parking a couple blocks away.

“Fine. But if you keep up with this ‘ring me when you get home’ crap, I'm going to start calling you ‘daddy,’” she teased, pushing at John until he let her up so she could unlock the car door.

“God no, please. That is one kink I definitely do not have,” John groaned. He really didn't need any more reminders that he was almost a decade older than Gilina. He hadn’t been trying to be paternal. But since the accident, it helped him sleep to know she’d made it home safe. Time to get ahold of himself. “Don’t worry about it. I'll see you tomorrow, anyway, b-- Gil.” He caught himself just in time, and made a mental note to also remove ‘baby’ from his list of endearments. “I’m coming over to the lab to do another test of those heat sensors.” 

“That sounds like a line.”

“Maybe it will be. Hope it works.” He stole one more kiss before she got inside, then carefully closed the door for her. Gilina gave him a little wave before pulling out of the parking lot with enough acceleration to make her tires squeal and John sigh.

It was going to be another long walk back to his car. Consulting his map, he thought he’d save a couple minutes cutting through the building, so he went back inside. The mobile repair shop was closed now, so only The Leviathan’s doors were open. He toyed with the idea of going in, to apologize, explain, say something to Aaron, or at least to Jan, about the abruptly canceled appointment. But he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse. “Sorry, my girlfriend doesn’t want the guy that ruined her mentor’s career to show us how to use a flogger,” wasn’t exactly subtle. Keeping her fee was going to have to be apology enough. John was going to need to make that up to Gil. He knew the dominatrix hadn’t been cheap, especially not on a corporal’s salary.

John continued on, down the short hall leading out to Crown. The street was busy, popular with people avoiding the nearby toll road, and a lot of businesses in this stretch of road were still open. After one more quick look at the map, John had just started to head down the sidewalk when a car that had been parked at the curb pulled out into traffic right as a delivery truck going far too fast for a downtown street, blazed past. The delivery driver tried to avoid the car, but still smashed into the driver’s side before veering into the other lane, barely missing clipping an oncoming car. The crash of metal and blaring horns hit John like a stick to the head, painful and all-encompassing.

----

“Crichton,” a voice came from nearby, almost angry, barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears. “Crichton, get out of the street.” Was he in the street?

Hands grabbed the back of his coat and pulled. John thought he should struggle, or at least protest, but he was too busy fighting the surge of nausea. The grip dragged him until his shoe hit the curb. He would have fallen, but the hands wouldn’t let him, yanking up on his coat until he managed to gather his feet under him and step up onto the sidewalk. 

“Chelsea, ring triple-oh,” the same angry voice said, as John was abruptly released.

“Is everyone all right? What’s the matter with him?” A higher pitched voice, more broadly Australian, familiar and coming closer, startled John into awareness with the same question. It was happening again. At least he wasn’t in a car, because the gray fog had returned to the edge of his vision, and the concrete under his feet seemed to be tipping, slipping--

“Nothing,” answered the stern, lower pitched voice, almost a growl. The hands came back, well, one hand, gripping his upper arm so tightly that even through his coat it hurt. But now he couldn’t fall, it wouldn’t allow that. The pain was rhythmic, squeezing, fingers poking deep, then easing. Slower, far slower than his heart or his breathing. “Jan is checking over the woman in the car that got hit. She got the worst of it. The truck was like a tank, the car just bounced off.” The person talking, the owner of the hand holding him, pulled him a couple steps farther from the curb.

“But he doesn't--”

“I saw blood, Chi. Go back inside and ring triple-zero!”

John flinched at the crack of their raised voice, almost in his ear. There was the impression of movement, the sound of feet running. He wanted to move, but the hand didn’t allow it. He should be doing something. He had first aid training, he should be helping. But all he could do was stand there, listening to the repeated honking of offended car alarms, the prickle of pain coming and going in the same rhythm. John was aware of a growing crowd on the sidewalk with them, and across the street, clustering around the other car. He could hear the frightened cries of someone nearby, in pain, but he couldn’t make himself look. There was another voice woven in, softer, soothing, reassuring the injured girl. John tried to listen to it, but it was drowned out by the blaring horns and sirens, first distant, then coming closer. The grip on his arm eased and released just as the police cars and ambulances turned onto their street.

Sirens, oscillating too quickly, wrong, different from the screaming wail of police back home. The buzz of Australian ambulances like angry cartoon hornets, louder and louder until it was all he could hear. Rain coming down, but he couldn’t feel it hit his skin, just the wet, the cold, the light refracting in the blinding headlights until everything was rainbows and screaming. That was from a woman, with the bad luck to be passing by. Another victim, staring and crying and clutching her head at the blood, dark pools on the sidewalk and twitching limbs, and John could only stand and stare.

[sevenai]

Ikémen Prince Theory

warnings; includes possible spoilers for gilbert, me possibly being delusional

Hey, so this is kind of long but i wanted to post it now since his pv for the Japanese server just dropped. I know I said I did not want spoilers but I already saw the trailer before I realized lol. I came up with this theory a while ago and was planning on posting it later but since his route is getting released, I decided that I’ll do it now so that I don’t sound stupid for my theories while everyone who has already read the route will look at me like "what in the world." Again, this was my thought before the pv came out so if it’s wrong oops. Also, I am not sure but I think some people may already theorized this or thought about it; however, I still wanted to share my thoughts since it’s so fun! Please enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Theory:

From what I have seen so far from events and stuff with the fan translations, Gilbert seems to have been betrayed/lied to, which is why he hates lies so much. There has been an unknown person in some of his recent events from his flashbacks and it seems as their relationship were close. That person may be his caregiver when he was younger or at least someone he trusted/had a soft spot for. It’s not entirely impossible to say that he loved them. It could be his mom (obviously not his dad lol) or someone else altogether. He even lied to save their feelings about the raisin food they made in that one event. Possible theories may stem from them betraying and ended up trying to kill him. This is a possibility as Gilbert tend to give hints of the normalcy for murder and betrayal in Obsidian. That can be the reason for his eyepatch, as he was nearly killed but ended up having to kill “that person.” This can be his first kill, which leads to how he is today, someone who loves to trample and conquer so that no one can lie and betray him again (or something like that). Saying this, it kind of reminds me of Gaara from Naruto. He was a sweet boy but his father and everyone hated and fear him besides one person, who ended up betraying him, causing him to build up a wall and end up in isolation.

Another possibility, one I’m more drawn to is that, maybe that “that person” was killed, most likely in front of his eyes. Why? Maybe because “that person” was close to Gilbert. Maybe little gilbert didn’t want violence and to kill (I’m sorry I laughed typing that) so the king set up an assassination to bring out that side of Gilbert. (This part is a little far-stretched) But wouldn’t that be suspicious? Of course, so the plan could’ve been to “kill” gilbert and “that person” will get in the way to protect him. Gilbert’s eye gets hurt and is about to die and “that person” jumps in. I am leaning towards him loving someone who died so that’s the main bases. MAYBE “that person” had “naive” ideals. Which may be why he is so taken with Belle. She reminds him of “that person.” “That person” who gave gilbert those ideals and those “hope” to maybe someday fix his country into one of peace or something like that. An beautiful ideal that doesn’t involve bloodshed, pain, and lost. The hope and belief that he doesn’t have to be like the emperor or like any of the other ruthless Obsidian.

What challenges these theories is the fact that we can see gilbert is automatically interested in Belle as soon as we meet him. We can argue that maybe that’s just how he is or maybe he had knowledge of the king passing so he knew that a Belle would have been appointed, in which he is finding out who. Which when he finds mc, he knew it was her and that’s when his interest started. It can also be argued that he knew who mc was. Maybe they met before? Past chance encounter trope? Maybe that person that died had connections with mc? There’s so many possibilities!

I would say that his intense desire to “trample and conquer” is so that he won’t ever feel that pain again. He does not want to know love just to have it taken and destroyed before him, not again, not ever. I also thought about how maybe “that person” that Gilbert holds so dearly could have died from all the wars and he is upset the emperor did nothing to help stop it, making him wanting to take control of every country, like how Chevalier believes that in order to protect Rhodolite, he must gain control of every country in the continent. I know that the theory of Gilbert being included in the "secretly dying trope" is a popular one and at this point, it may as well be true with how many foreshadows we’ve been given. So with that, I want to include more angst and add in the idea that he may have been "sick" (or whatever is happening with him) since birth or he had got a major injury during the event with “that person," which is life threatening. Pretty likely that they made a promise. Okay listen, they either promised each other something before "that person" died or Gilbert is doing it because they died. Either way it has something to do with "that special person."

MAN IDK WHERE IM GOING WITH THIS THERES SO MANY THEORIES I HAVE AND THEY SEEM SO FAR FETCHED IDK….. if you read all of that, thank you, I love you!!! Let’s cry over Gilbert’s route together when it’s released in English!

[bubblegumbarbie33]

Shit post shit post shit post time

So. So. So.

I was just listening to a recording of No Children by the Mountain Goats (love them. Love their sound. Stream them. >:( )

So here's the end of the Shameless Finale if I had written it, following the lyrics of this beautiful song. Everything else can happen roughly the same in the episode, I guess, but these last three minutes and thirty seconds are MINE DAMMIT. >:D

(Is it bad that I forgot how Frank ended up in the hospital in the Finale? Anyway, somehow Frank ends up at a payphone while he wanders the streets in a drunken, amnesiac state. He calls the Gallagher house. Everyone's at the Alibi. No one answers.)

I hope that our few remaining friends

Give up on trying to save us

(Frank, frustrated, wanders off into the city. He walks by the Alibi, stares at it for a few seconds, confused. He doesn't remember this place.)

I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot

To piss off the dumb few that forgave us

(He wanders by Sheila's old house. There's a new family in there now, very similar looking to the Jacksons. A little blond girl looks out the window at Franks, who stands in the street. She waves, he waves back, smiling (drunken, confused, delighted). Her mother, seeing Frank, quickly pulls the girl away from the window and shuts the curtains. Franks frowns and continues on.)

I hope the fences we mended

Fall down beneath their own weight

And I hope we hang on past the last exit

I hope it's already too late

(At the Gallagher house, we see that shitty wiring, mentioned by so many people throughout the series, begin to act up. Maybe someone left something on when they weren't supposed to. Maybe the house is just ready to go. It starts a flame, small, but powerful.)

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here

Someday burns down

And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away

And I never come back to this town again

(Frank stumbles into an unfamiliar place. A cemetery. He weaves through the headstones. Even he doesn't know what he's looking for. Then, he sees it. HERE LIES MONICA GALLAGHER. LOVING WIFE AND MOTHER. BELOVED DAUGHTER. Frank laughs, it's bubbly and childish. He sits next to the grave. Leans against the headstone. His eyes close.)

In my life, I hope I lie

And tell everyone you were a good wife

And I hope you die

I hope we both die

(Quick cuts of all of the Gallaghers in the Alibi, celebrating, interspersed with their rooms going up in smoke.

Ian's sitting by the bar, nursing a beer. Discreetly, Mickey hands him his nightly dosage. Ian sighs, but takes them. Then laughing, he kisses his husband. It's adorable.

Ian's old room, now just belonging to Liam and Carl, goes up. We see the 8-Ball T-shirt, passed down through three Gallagher boys, go up.)

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow

I hope it bleeds all day long

Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises

We're pretty sure they're all wrong

(Debbie sits at the bar while Franny colors. Kev hands her a beer and ruffles her hair. She smiles. Blinks once. Twice. Turns to the door. There stands Sandy. They stare at one another ((the other girl from the finale doesn't exist. I hope you all know me well enough to know she's not in MY finale 😭))

Debbie's room. Her bed goes up, along with the Graves poster from her childhood bedroom)

I hope it stays dark forever

I hope the worst isn't over

And I hope you blink before I do

(Lip sits in a corner booth, staring out the window. He should be having fun, but all the paperwork sitting in front of him says otherwise. Tami slides in next to him, holding Fred. She leans against him. Lip looks down at the kid he's always wanted, and its enough, for now.

Back at the house, his old bunk goes up, along with a pack of cigarettes on the kitchen table.)

I hope I never get sober

And I hope when you think of me years down the line

You can't find one good thing to say

(Carl's sitting at the bar with his cop friend. He's looking around the bar. He seems more serious than usual. He sees Debbie talking to Sandy. She makes eyes contact with him. Smiles. They love each other, but they don't need each other anymore.

At home, an old, fucked up Barbie doll under his old bed melts in the flames.)

And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out

You'd stay the hell out of my way

(Liam stands out on the sidewalk. He's looking for Frank. A streetlight flickers above him. He shivers. He sighs. He gives up. He walks back into the Alibi. A slow pan out. The lights of the Alibi are warm. We see people moving inside. Some drunken laughter.

I am drowning

There is no sign of land

You are coming down with me

Hand in unlovable hand

(Cut to: the Gallagher house is fully engulfed in the flames. A figure stands on the sidewalk out front. We see a firetruck pulling up behind her. It's Fiona. She looks at the burning house. She knows where her family is right now, she was on her way. She smiles. She laughs. It sounds like Frank's

And I hope you die

I hope we both die

(Fade to black with the sound of sirens. One last line from Frank: You can say a lot about the Southside. It's hall on earth, danger at every turn, the American cousin to Sodom and Gamora. But they're one thing you'd have to agree with. We know how to fucking party.

Cue: The Lucky You Got- Roll Credits)