#I seriously need to start that as a series

[brainfuzz]

Agreed.

First, assuming ramencel took a traditional path to college, she's at most 22, and more likely hasn't reached drinking age yet. That in mind, I say this as gently as possible - Child, perhaps you should grow up a little before you start making judgements.

Second, I did not take a traditional path to college, and when I started my undergrad at 35, it was in library science. One of the things that got hammered into my head was that any reading is good reading, and there is no such thing as "trash" in books. There are badly written books, but there are no bad books. If someone tells you a book is bad, you need to seriously question why they say that.

In my child lit class, we discussed the merits of the Captain Underpants books vs. "real" kid's books, like Little House on the Prairie. One's a graphic novel with questionable humor, and the other is a beautiful retelling of a child's life in the mid 1800's. You know which one kids should read? The one they find interesting and will enjoy. That's it.

Third, the important thing is that people read - what they read is irrelevant. Even the smuttiest, trashiest novel (or fanfic for that matter) has merit. 50 Shades of Grey? Got people comfortable with kink, started discussions about it, and hopefully showed people what bad BDSM etiquette looked like. The Sound and the Fury is generally accepted to be great classic American literature, but I hated it with a passion - it was the only book I've ever used Sparknotes for instead of reading it - and I will never read another book by Faulkner in my life.

And lastly, reading anything will open your mind to other possibilities. Someone may read only romance novels, and pick up the first in the "Quilts and Kilts" series. They may read all nine of them. Reading them may spark their curiosity about quilts, which leads them to start the "Elm Creek Quilts" series, which is not a romance. One of those books is centered around quilts and the underground railroad, which may inspire them to pick up a book about Harriet Tubman, and so on and so on.

Reading anything is learning, and the only people who don't want you to learn and have an open mind are people who want to subjugate you. Censorship in any form is bad, it doesn't matter what the topic is, or who the audience is. You start censoring romance because its porn, and you start sliding into things that aren't porn, or aren't romance. We end up banning PD James' Adam Dalgliesh series because he has a girlfriend that he kisses on page.

People like to say that's ridiculous, nobody is going to ban mysteries because people kiss in them. Yeah, well nobody thought Roe v Wade would get overturned either.

tldr; all reading has merit, even shitty books like 50 Shades of Grey. No book should ever be banned, and you should question the motives of anyone who wants to control what you can read.

It's all fun and games and laughing at BookTok until you can't get on AO3 anymore, as someone who likes both romance and fanfic.

[mortaldreams]

breathing room (m ver.)

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: smut, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers

word count: 5.9k

warnings: sexually explicit content (MDNI), swearing, arguing, non-explicit descriptions/depictions of violence, tension of both the general and sexual sort, heeseung is a Talker

note: this is an extended (and explicit) version of my sfw story breathing room, which can still be found on my main blog stllmnstr. but this one has, you know, smut. enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

In your mind, Lee Heeseung is nothing but a thorn in your side and an obstacle in your path as you struggle to fight your way way up the ranks in combat training. But even with your knife against his neck and flames in your eyes, he finds a way to catch you off guard.

or,

heeseung doesn't need a knockout. he just needs an in.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung is having a hard time breathing. 

Partly because he’s pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. A little bit because of the year-old rib injury he had neither the time nor patience to let heal completely. 

And mostly because there’s a blade being held to his throat. 

Yours, to be exact. 

It’s a nice one, all things considered. Despite its lethality, it’s small, delicate almost. From this angle, he can just make out the detailing on the hilt. A series of vines wrap around each other intricately, forming kaleidoscopic patterns that extend all the way from the blade to where your fingers are wrapped around the hilt, knuckles white from the way your hand is straining. 

Jesus, he thinks. If it takes that much concentrated effort for you to not let the knife press any harder against his skin, draw any blood, then maybe he should start taking the threats you throw his way like extra change a little more seriously. 

Lazily, he lets his eyes trace a line from your fingers to your face. Skipping over the rather boring details of the plain black training shirt you wear, he directs his attention to the way your brow furrows in concentration instead. 

Under usual circumstances, a knife to the throat would encourage all of his senses to narrow in on the sensation of metal against his pulse point. Would spur his brain to work a bit faster through all the biological fight or flight mechanisms in a last ditch attempt at survival. 

But these are not usual circumstances. In fact, ever since the two of you were split into separate training cohorts a handful of months ago, this has become a rarity. And the only thing Heeseung wants to do is enjoy it a little more. 

Without his self-preservation instincts kicking in, his brain has plenty of room for other things. The forgiving surface of a training mat beneath him, slightly soft where he lets his body relax into it. The unusually warm air of the training room, courtesy of a busted air conditioner that no one has gotten around to fixing just yet. 

The way your hair falls around your face as you lean over him, chest still heaving from your recent bout of exertion. Your eyes are pure fire, embers and ashes and every stage in between as you sit atop his ribcage, knees on either side of his torso where you pin him to the mat. 

But even as the lead trainer adds another tally underneath your name for another sparring match won, your gaze doesn’t soften. Doesn’t brighten in the afterglow of victory. 

After all, victory only tastes sweet when it’s earned. Judging by the way your lips twist above him, Heeseung thinks the victory he just handed you on a silver platter must be horribly bitter. 

Slowly, he raises his hands in mock surrender. There’s a half smile that looks a little too much like a smirk tugging at his lips when he says, “I concede.”

“No fucking shit.” You flick a strand of hair out of your face. Your knife presses a little tighter against his throat. “Did you even try?”

Heeseung maintains eye contact. “I think I’m doing us both a favor by not answering that one.”

Narrowing your eyes, annoyance makes itself the most prominent of your visible emotions. “Interesting choice of words from someone with a knife to his throat.”

Heeseung all but rolls his eyes. “What are you gonna do? Kill me in front of everyone?” The way he wraps sarcasm up in every syllable is almost as infuriating as the way he just let you win without putting up any semblance of a fight. “You’ve got a mean streak, princess, but that’s a bit much, even for you.”

The pressure on your blade increases, and Heeseung fights a wince as he feels it break the barrier between his skin and blood. It’s a miniscule cut, surface level at most, but he hears the threat all the same. “It’s like you want to die,” you marvel. 

Heeseung’s eyes betray nothing, other than the fact that they can’t quite seem to stray from your own. Does he? No matter how deep inside himself he searches, the answer is always a resounding no. Despite the effort he put into this particular spar, or rather lack thereof, his survival instincts are still kicking. His pursuit of life is still alive and well. 

So no, he doesn’t want to die. Quite the opposite in fact. But if he were to explain in plain terms that he never feels quite as alive as he does in the moments when you’ve got a knife on his throat and hatred in your eyes, he has the distinct feeling you might well and truly make good on your frequent promise to send him to an early grave. 

And it’s not like he means to do it, not really. Heeseung might be a glutton for punishment these days, but there was a time when he tried to get your attention in all the regular ways. As he quickly found out, sweet words did nothing but make you roll your eyes, and his skills on a sparring mat were only as impressive as they could be used to hone your own. 

He was a tool in your eyes. A means to an end as you did your best to work your way up the ranks. 

You never looked at him, the person behind all the hand-to-hand combat training and advanced levels of weapon artistry. 

At least not until he started annoying the ever-living shit out of you. 

Back then, it had been easy. As new recruits, you were in the same training cohort, which meant you had the same daily schedules. As long as Heeseung had the chance to beat you to the last piece of toast in the dining hall at breakfast or tie the laces of your training boots together the night before an early morning, he was guaranteed at least one of your signature glares and a few choice words that would make his grandmother blush. 

Granted, he knows that one-sided hatred is not a very stable foundation to build anything solid on, but he thinks of it in the same way he thinks of sparring. 

He doesn’t need a knockout. He just needs an in. 

A little bit of breathing room. Something that will have his partner lowering their guard, weakening their defenses just enough for him to strike. Once. Twice. Again. Over and over until the match is won and victory rests on his square shoulders. 

Heeseung’s in this for the long haul, and he’s come to find that he doesn’t really care how many bruises he picks up along the way. 

Across the room, the lead trainer heaves a long sigh. 

“Alright, ___, that’s enough. You’ve earned your tally.” The most of anyone in today’s group. But you’re still glaring at him, and he knows it isn’t enough, not for you. “Heeseung, get it together. I expect better from you next time.”

You scoff. “Don’t hold your breath.” 

Expectations are only met when people are held to them, and you doubt Lee Heeseung has even become acquainted with the concept of a consequence. 

Releasing one final, sharp exhale, you pull your knife away from his throat, tucking it back into the sheath on your upper thigh in one fluid motion. Swinging your leg over his torso, you remove your body from his own, give your anger some space to breathe. Without looking back, you let your strides eat up the distance between you and the exit. 

Someone – you think it must be Jay, or maybe Jungwon – tries to catch your attention on the way out, asking about a maneuver you pulled in the middle of the match. A tricky bit of knife work you’ve been perfecting over the last few weeks. 

Something that looked stupid as Heeseung did nothing but stand there, as if your blade was nothing but decorative. Made you look stupid as he stood and watched with nothing but a mildly amused expression on his face. 

You hate him for it. Want to show him just how pretty your knife can be stained with the deep crimson he must bleed as surely as anyone else. 

Lips pulled in a taut line, you unsheath the blade at your thigh once again, this time sending it spinning with deadly accuracy towards the line of trees that skirt the outside of the training facility. 

You don’t miss. You never do. 

It still feels like defeat. 

…..

Heeseung notices when you’re not at dinner later that evening. Despite the fact that you no longer train together, the inter-cohort spars have shifted this week's schedule. You should be here, sitting next to Jay and Jungwon, probably, pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

But you’re not. And he can only think of one other place to find you. 

The training hall is dark when he arrives, but Heeseung is no fool. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he sees you soon enough. Silhouette dark against the empty expanse, he has half a mind to intervene before you shred yet another punching bag to irreparable pieces. Instead, he just watches for a moment longer. 

He doesn’t know what to do with the feelings that start to simmer, that always linger. Doesn’t know if it’s admiration or longing or something far worse. 

But he wants to. Wants to examine them until he knows them as intimately as the back of his own hand, until he can recite them by name and express them in ways that don’t make you want to press a knife against his neck. 

And he wants to keep watching, keep looking, keep noticing. 

Even from a distance, even in the dark, he can read the frustration in the set of your shoulders, sense the exhaustion in the way your legs move just behind the rest of your body. 

You need a break. 

He needs an in. 

Across the room from you, Heeseung clears his throat. 

Startled, you nearly fall on your ass mid-kick before you turn to the source. It’s dark, but you know it’s him. Who else would it be? 

Chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion, you finally catch your breath well enough to tell him, “If you’re not here for a rematch, then you have exactly ten seconds to get out of this building.”

A beat passes. 

Another. 

Heeseung exhales. “And if I am?”

Bathed in the dying glow of moonlight, you go still. “Then you better put in your best fucking effort.”

Heeseung is across the room before you can release another breath. It’s ridiculous how quickly he disarms you. And you’re caught off guard, yes, but it doesn’t matter, not really. Your knife in his hands, he throws it to the corner of the room. And then it’s just the two of you. 

Heeseung spares neither time nor effort knocking your legs out from under you, sending you careening towards the mat. Screwing your eyes shut, you brace for the impact of a training mat that never comes, the back of your head cradled in a hand that serves as a barrier between you and the ground below. 

It’s a complete reversal of your earlier roles as he lets his legs fall to either side of you, face inches from your own. There’s no knife on your neck, and he was gracious enough to break your fall. 

But suddenly, you find your breath a difficult thing to catch regardless. 

Above you, his eyes are dark. Your noses nearly touch. “This is what you wanted?” he breathes, and you feel his words as much as you hear them. They dance across your cheekbone, your lips. Have your bones feeling molten, all your hard edges malleable. “You want me to fight you like I mean it? To really fucking spar with you?”

You’ve rehearsed your answer too long to deviate, even as your mind screams with sudden uncertainties. “Yes.”

Heeseung doesn’t spare it a second thought. “Too bad.”

“Why? You have no problem f–”

“I was there, you know.” Unbidden, the hand that doesn’t hold your head falls to the bottom edge of your black training shirt. Heeseung pauses there for a moment, lets his fingers trace the seam. Something in the air shifts, tightens, waits. 

Despite the way he has you caged, your hands are unbound. You could stop this, if you wanted to. Stop him. 

You don’t. 

Slowly, his hand begins to track an upward journey, taking your hem with it. The air of the room is warm, choked with summer heat and the odd sensations that simmer just beneath your skin, but you suppress a shiver anyway as a sliver of skin is revealed. 

You know what he’s after, where his eyes fall to. It’s his fingers that hesitate. Dangle with uncertainty a hair's breadth from the scar that sits just above your hip bone. 

Heeseung inhales, eyes returning to your own for a moment. They’re searching for permission you won’t give and boundaries you won’t set. If he wants to walk this tightrope, he’ll have to navigate on his own. 

It’s a challenge he rises to. On his breath out, Heeseung lets his fingers find a home on the bare skin of your stomach, trace the jagged line that’s a shade paler than the surrounding area. 

It’s a scar you hardly think of, one you can’t believe he remembers. Gifted to you in your early days of training, when a fellow recruit thought the best way to better his ranking was to discard the strict sparring rules set by your superiors and draw blood as a last ditch attempt at victory.

You’d still won, even with a fresh stab wound on your lower abdomen. And he’d been shown the door, like all recruits that break protocol. 

“So what?” Your voice doesn’t come out nearly as biting as you intend it to. You curse the waver in your words. “I get one scar and suddenly I’m delicate?” 

Heeseung glances up, something sincere in his eyes when he matches your gaze. His hand is still on your skin. “We’re all delicate. And we all have the scars to prove it. I’ve just developed a particular… aversion to seeing evidence of it when it comes to you.”

You’re quick to school your features into neutrality. At least on the outside, you won’t give him the satisfaction of catching you off guard. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“Apparently not,” Heeseung counters. “Since I’m not the one begging for a fight.” He holds your gaze when he adds, “And I have to say, princess, if you wanted me to put you on your back, there are much easier ways to ask.”

It’s as if you’ve been submerged in hot water, as if you’ve been burned, when you push him off of you with a speed that’s almost comical. And from the way heat rises in your cheeks, you just might have been. 

Your voice is dangerously low when you tell him, “You have three seconds.”

“Until what?” Heeseung knows better than to be hopeful. 

“Until I find my knife and put it to good use.”

He knows better, yes. But what are limits for, if not to be pushed? 

Heeseung looks up at you from where he still lies on the mat. Propping himself up on one hand, he lets his gaze trace you from head to toe. Lazily, like he has all the time in the world and none of his inhibitions. “Is that a promise?”

You do your best not to squirm underneath his wandering gaze. But evidence of your embarrassment still stains your flushed skin. And from the way his lips start to quirk upwards, you can tell that he’s enjoying this. 

You’re flustered, and he loves it. Loves that when you stutter a bit, start to trip over your words, it’s by his doing. 

Standing above him, your scowl is unconvincing. A stark contrast to the heat that still lingers in your cheeks and the way you can’t quite match his eye. “What is wrong with you?”

“Several things.” Below you, Heeseung bites back a smile. “Would you like an itemized list? Or would you prefer the details of my depravity in essay format? Or I could–”

“Stop it.” Your face is still flaming, but your voice has changed. It’s not shy or breathy or even biting. It’s just… frustrated. A little bit pathetic. Pleading in a way Heeseung wasn’t prepared for. 

“Just stop it.” On the training mat, Heeseung goes still. “God, you do this every time. I come here and I work my fucking ass off every day, and all you do is sit there and mock me for it.” The fire is draining from your eyes. The fight is draining from your shoulders. It’s wrong. It’s not what he meant. But it’s spiraling and he doesn’t know how to stop it. “Is this…” you trail off. Deciding your pride is already torn to shreds, you ask, “Am I some kind of joke to you?”

Heeseung is standing again before you can catch your breath. Crowding your space. Or at least, he tries to. The backwards step you take maintains a steady distance. 

“No.” Now he’s the one that’s scrambling, lost for words. “No,” he repeats. “Fuck, ___” he cards a hand through his hard, pushing it away from his face. “You have to know that’s not what I think of you.”

You scoff in exasperation, but your eyes are starting to shine. Reflect the unshed tears of frustration that have begun to gather in your lash line. Heeseung’s fingertips twitch with the urge to wipe them away. “How would I know that? You always do this.” Your words are coming out too fast, spilling from parted lips in the most painful river of honesty he’s ever gotten from you. 

“You don’t take me seriously. You won’t fight me. You won’t do anything but lay there with that stupid fucking smile.” You’re angry. Clearly. But you’re not getting in his face, not forcing your words down his throat by invading his space. 

No, instead, you’re closing in on yourself. Eyes trained on the ground, you won’t even look at him. Arms wrapping around your torso, it’s as if you want as many barriers between the two of you as possible. “All you do is tease me, because you know it makes me…” Shaking your head, your words die on your lips. 

Heeseung can’t let it go so easily. “Makes you what?”

Slowly, you drag your gaze back to his. There’s no sound here, in the expanse of a barren training room. Just the mingling of your breath with his. The quiet remnants of your anger. You won’t answer his question. You can’t.

Instead, you whisper “I hate you.”

Heeseung takes a step closer. This time, you don’t retreat. He shakes his head. “You don’t.”

Feet planted, you have to tilt your chin to look up at him now. “I do–”

“You don’t,” he interrupts. “You don’t hate me, and you have no idea what to do about it.”

A spark flickers through your eyes again/ This is the kind of sparring match you’ve become familiar with when it comes to him. “Typical,” you bite, voice low. “And so fucking presumptuous, to assume that you know me better than I do.”

Heeseung presses into your space further. You can feel the heat that radiates off of his skin, that threatens to consume you whole. “I tease you, yes,” he admits. “But you’ve never been a joke to me. I take you as seriously as death, princess.”

“Don’t call me that–”

“And don’t act like you’re any better.” Features slackening, your eyes widen as he doubles down. “You want to talk about taking people seriously? Fine.” There are flames in his eyes now, raging through his dark irises. “You never looked at me twice. Never thought of me as anything but a stepping stone to make yourself better. You want me to fight you? You want to use me to test out all your fancy little tricks and improve until you’re the only one at the top?”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close. 

“Fine. I’ll give you what you want.” Fingers sliding beneath your jaw, he cups your chin with a light, but demanding grip. Forcing your gaze upwards, you have nowhere to look but his eyes when he demands, “But look at me while I do it.”

In the span of seconds, you’re on your back again. Trapped beneath him as he pins your hands above your head, both of your wrists entrapped in the grasp of a single hand. Knees on either side of your torso, you’re effectively trapped. 

Frantically, without any of your usual finesse, you begin to thrash, desperately trying to free yourself. His only response is to close his knees tighter, restricting your movement further. 

Fuming, nearly immobile, you bring one knee up in a well-aimed jab. But Heeseung hasn’t been fighting all these months. Not really. 

He predicts your movement with a practiced ease and stops the blow in its tracks. Spare hand wrapping around the back of your thigh, he shakes his head at you. 

“Ah, ah,” he scolds, voice dangerously low. “I thought I told you to look at me.”

Beneath him, your chest heaves. “As if I’d ever listen to you.” But your eyes lock on his anyway. As if you can win this sparring match through sheer will alone. 

Heeseung doesn’t say anything. Hardly so much as blinks as his hand wraps around your thigh a little more firmly. And then, he’s adjusting it. 

Dragging it upwards with a scalding touch until he guides it to wrap around the base of his hips. Again, his touch is light. Something you could break free from if you really wanted to. All of his command lies in his eyes, his gaze that still burns into yours. 

The space just above your cheekbones is flaming again. But this time, for a different reason. 

You feel it more pointedly than you ever have, a sharp, pulsing tug that snakes down your spine and settles just beneath your navel. 

You’re warm there, too. Too warm.

The clothed expanse of your inner thigh, just above your knee, rests against the outside of his hip. But it’s not enough. Does nothing to soothe the building ache, nothing to ease your mounting desperation for friction, for something.  

It’s too much. It’s almost involuntary, the way you start to squirm again,. But this time, it’s not freedom you seek. 

Overwhelmed with sensations you have no idea what to do with, you screw your eyes shut. 

Your body feels like one big muscle, drawn taut, fraught with tension. And it’s so warm, so unbearably hot. 

Shrouded in darkness of your own making, it’s almost worse. You can feel everything. Every desperate pulse that throbs in time with your heartbeat. Every shallow breath that scatters across your overly warm skin. 

The gentle, light pair of lips that ghost over the space between your brows. That brush against the side of your tightly shut eyelid. That comes to rest along the shell of your ear, inspiring a fresh round of shivers down the length of your spine. 

He feels it too. You can tell by the way his breath shudders against you. 

His lips part against your earlobe, touch as light as a butterfly’s wing. “Please,” he begs, and you think you might actually die. If this is what defeat feels like, you’ll hand him his rightful victory. “Look at me.”

You’re still sparring. You’re sure of it. Giving into his demands would feel like defeat. But so does hiding, lying immobile and shying away from sensation as if you’re afraid. 

You are. Afraid, that is. But you’ll die before you let him see that. 

So you obey his command. Eyelids fluttering open slowly, you’re met with the sight of him. Hair falling over his forehead, his nose nearly touches yours. There’s heat in his cheeks and his gaze and his skin. 

Something in him sings with desperation, too. 

Still, there’s a hint of something else. Something softer. Something that almost sounds like fondness when he matches your eye and whispers, “There she is.”

You feel molten, pliant beneath his touch. Again, your hips shift of their own volition as you swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. 

Heeseung is so intricately attuned to it. Every miniscule movement. Every shallow breath. He notices, feels it too. 

And he’s always held a certain love for this. For the chase. For the build up. 

But his patience can only stretch so far, and he won’t leave you hanging for long. 

You expect it to be bruising, desperate, angry. Everything that’s it’s always been between the two of you when he finally brings his lips to yours. 

It’s not. 

Heeseung’s lips drip with desperation, but they’re slow where they begin to move against your own. Slow and deep and searching, like he’s looking for something he never thought he’d find. 

Late summer heat washes over your skin, and this time, you can’t hide the whimper that drips from your tongue. That he swallows with a renewed vigor. 

It’s as if a light has been ignited. The hand, the one that still cradles your thigh, doubles down in its grip. Drags your leg up further. 

Until he’s just as trapped within it as you are beneath his body. The action brings him closer to you, touching in places that send a fresh wave of shudders radiating from the cradle of your hips. 

“God,” he pants, the syllable sliding past your open lips. “Fuck, ___.” 

He moves his hips again, this time in a more deliberate way. A repeated motion that has you seeing stars. That quells the rising ache in your core just as much as it expands it. 

“You feel that?” he breathes. “Feel what you do to me?”

You shudder beneath him, body slack to sensation. A live wire under his touch. “Please.”

But patience, restraint, are old friends of Heeseung’s. He wants to hear you say it. “Please, what? Use your words, princess.”

You’ll give it to him, whatever he wants. But words are difficult to come by. You can’t form them with your tongue, can’t push them past your lips. You can’t think. “I don’t… It hurts–”

Heeseung might have patience, but the sound of you begging erases what’s left of his self-control in one fell swoop. He’ll finish the words you can’t quite work out. “Yeah? Need me to make it better? Need me to make you feel good?”

But he does want at least one thing from you. With his hand on your jaw, he forces your gaze to his again. “I’ll do it. I’ll give you whatever you want.” It’s a promise. One that bleeds with sincerity. One that’s just as evident in his eyes as it is in his words. “Just need you to tell me.”

In the scant inches that separate your lips, you whisper, “I want it.”

Heeseung is hanging on by a thread. “Want what?”

You unwind it just as quickly. With starlight dancing over your features, half shadowed by his body over yours, you tell him, “Want you.”

And you can feel it, the way his facade of composure starts to slip. The way desperation starts to become his only driving force. 

Even still, you’ve always been something he chooses to treat with care, and this will be no different. 

Slowly, he releases his grip on your hands above your head. 

With movements that soothe as much as they ache, and gestures that feel a little too much like love, he pushes a stray strand of hair away from your heated forehead. 

And then, once again, his hand falls to the hem of your shirt. There’s less hesitation, even if his fingers still shake slightly, as he begins to drag it upwards. Inch by agonizing inch, the expanse of your stomach is laid bare to night air and the wandering intensity of his gaze. 

Your ribcage follows. It’s not cold, but you shudder all the same. 

He stops, fingers suddenly immobile as they trace the top of your ribs. Uncharted territory. A final barrier between the two of you. 

But you’re getting better at this, too. With a firm grip, you bring one hand to grasp his wrist. Looking him right in the eye, you tell him in a heated whisper, “Touch me.”

It’s all he needs. 

Hesitation sizzles against the open air everywhere it bleeds from his fervent touch. 

His hands are on your skin, and his mouth is back on yours. It burns in a way that’s distinct from hatred. There’s no bitter aftertaste, no sharp sting, even as his teeth catch on your bottom lip. 

There’s little grace here, even as he takes his time with you. 

Here on the training mat, it’s a far cry from romance, even if your head swims with dangerous thoughts all the same. 

His breath, his body, his touch are all tangled in yours. As his hips find a home in the space against yours, it feels less like sparring and more like a dance. Careful choreography that your bodies already know. 

Again, he moves against you. The sounds that crawl from your throat and drip through his open lips are obscene. Would be hopelessly embarrassing in any other context, but his touch soothes your anxieties as much as it stokes them. 

Lying beneath him, skin bare to his gaze and his touch and his intentions, you suddenly feel like a novice. An easy opponent. The nervous holder of the lower hand.

But Heeseung never wanted to best you, and this is no exception. Gentle fingers dance across the band of your training trousers. Plain. Utilitarian. Designed for function. 

Your sudden insecurities aside, he doesn’t want to best you. He doesn’t want to win. 

He tells you as much. “Relax,” he coos against your feverish temple. “Just gonna make you feel good.” It’s an iteration of an already established claim. A promise he’s already made. 

But here, trapped beneath his body, consumed by a touch that soothes as much as it burns, you decide that would feel like losing, too. 

“You, too,” you insist, finding the fragmented remnants of your voice. It’s a whisper that lands on his collarbone. He shudders with the insinuation. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Pulling back slightly, he pauses his ministrations. Looks you right in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

He might have spurred this, might have brought you here, but you’re burning with it now, too. The desire to see him come undone. Fall apart by your doing. 

You bring one hand to his temple, and he relaxes into your touch like he’s familiar with it. His head cradled in your palm, you say for the third time, “I want to make you feel good.”

He shudders, and for a moment, everything is still. The room around you holds its breath, his gaze locked on yours. 

And then, without breaking eye contact, he rolls his hips again. Slowly. Surely. 

Watches as you struggle to keep your eyes open against the sudden onslaught of sensations. Marvels at the small, desperate sounds he’s dying to swallow. 

It’s still, until it’s not. Until his fingers find their mobility again and the rest of you is laid just as bare as your torso. Until long moments later, your hands are the one to make him follow suit. 

Sweat sticks to your skin, makes every movement, every motion, feel all the more sordid. 

But when he guides your other leg around him and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You feel so good,” something between the two of you feels sacred, too. 

There’s little finesse to the way he finally guides himself inside of you. Little grace to be found in the way your bodies connect, breath and body and soul combining and colliding into one. 

There’s too much sensation, too many months and weeks and hidden dreams for it to be perfect. Too much care and pleasure and feelings for it to be anything but. 

And Heeseung…

Heeseung is seeing fucking stars. 

He’s always found you beautiful, but this is new. This is different. This is just for him. 

Every desperate sound he drags from your throat, every involuntary movement of your hips as you beg for relief only he can give you. It all belongs to him. 

His own pleasure is lost somewhere behind clouded eyes as he watches you struggle to keep your eyes open under the intensity of his touch. He chases something bigger, something far more dangerous than the pathways of his own baser desires. 

He needs it. Burns with the urge to watch you drowning in pleasure for him. Because of him. 

The only thing you’ve ever shown interest in him for is his prowess on a training mat, and he’s desperate to show you that he’s worth more than that. That he can serve you what you need on a silver platter and predict what you want without you having to say a word. 

He’s a quick study. He watches, observes the way your skin flushes with every filthy, adoring, sweet nothing he whispers against your ear. With every inch of pleasure he forces you to swallow. 

You’re shaking beneath him, practically vibrating with the intensity of it all, and Heeseung wants nothing more than for it all to last just a little longer. Stretch into a slighter bigger pocket of infinity that only the two of you are privy to. 

But even slivers of forever have their inevitable ends, and Heeseung senses this one in the way your whimper drags out, in the way the last remaining bits of tension drain from your shoulders while you clench around him. 

He’s no better. In the moments that follow, he crowds himself impossibly further into the heat of your body while he follows suit. Makes good on your wish that he finds his pleasure, too. 

And when it’s done, and the only thing left in the afterglow is exhaustion, he hears you whisper, “Heeseung?” 

It takes him a moment to find his voice. He’s never heard you say his name like that before. All hesitation, no trace of venom. His throat feels scraped raw when he hums against your collarbone, “Mm?”

Your hands are in his hair, a gentle repeated motion that soothes. That has hope surging in his chest. 

“I don’t…” you sigh, fighting against the urge to swallow your less combative words, even now. “I don’t hate you,” you finally admit. Like it’s still a secret. Like he can’t read the truth in the way you wrap strands of his hair around your fingers, in the way you let him rest against your skin. 

But it’s not easy for you to admit, even if it’s obvious, evident in everything that’s passed between the two of you. It still takes no small amount of bravery for you to whisper it to him in the dead of night in an abandoned training room. 

Bathed in the fading remnants of deep seated pleasure and the dying glow of distant moonlight, it almost makes him want to smile. 

“I know,” he whispers. Leaning a little further into your touch, he repeats, “I know.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: this was for YOU heeseung girlies ♡♡♡ it's been a hot minute since I wrote anything with actual smut, so I hope this reads alright! let me know what you thought, and as always, I hope you enjoyed ♡

[genericpuff]

Do you have any entry level recommendations for someone looking to learn a bit more about Greek mythology? I’d love to read up on it but I’m not sure how to find reputable sources and avoid Americanisation.

I mean, at the risk of sounding crass, you're likely going to run into Americanization no matter what you do because America itself was built on many cultures, especially that of Greek philosophy and storytelling.

Buuut if you mean you wanna read some actual Greek myth content that AREN'T modern American spins on classic tales, Emily Wilson is a popular choice for many people dipping their toes into translated mythology as her translations are both simplistic and concise in their language choices as well as fun in their structure to read both internally and orally (iirc her translations are done in iambic pentameter which is very familiar to anyone who's ever read Shakespeare). I've been working through her translation of The Odyssey, it's been pretty enjoyable :)

I've also heard great things about both Lattimore and Fitzgerald, the latter of whom I will be reading next after I finish Wilson's translation. That said, I haven't read either of their works yet, so take my recommendation of them with grains of salt! (I hope you enjoy them though if you check 'em out! If you beat me to it, let me know how they went!)

OH also, I know it's sorta the opposite of what you're likely looking for as it's VERY influenced by modern contexts, but thanks to another anon I recently got into Destripando la Historia which is a super fun animated Youtube series that retells the stories of various different gods from different mythologies. If you're into stuff of the goofy anime variety, you might enjoy them, it's a Spanish series but you can turn on captions to read the translations! It's super beginner-friendly, it covers a lot of different stories and myths without getting into so much detail that it's overwhelming (but gives you a good kickoff point to start with!) and the songs and animations slap, Afrodita is one of my favorites haha

Overall the biggest advice I can give you if you're trying to avoid fanfiction-y / "Americanized" retellings is just to cross-reference. If you find a retelling you really like but aren't completely sure of its legitimacy as a functional retelling, keep reading, watching, and learning more. It's a skill like any other, and the more you read, the more you'll be able to pick out what's a legitimate retelling from studied scholars vs. what's fanfiction that you don't need to take too accurately or seriously LMAO

And honestly, nothing wrong with the fanfiction stuff! Mythology, in its very nature, changes over time, it's an inevitability and many of the myths we still draw from today are often derivative in and of themselves from even older versions that pre-existed them (see: Ovid).

it's okay if your introduction to Greek myth is through derivative fanfic, stuff like Disney's Hercules and even Lore Olympus ARE fun to consume for a lot of people and make for a good entry point into learning more about the myths!

What's frustrating - and what I tend to criticize the most here - is when the fanfiction gets advertised / sold as legitimate retellings; when the fanfiction grossly misrepresents the actual mythology and yet tries to claim it as legitimate anyways which results in fanbases that are running around with completely false information claiming it as fact. If you can give the team behind Hercules credit for one thing, their rendition may not be completely accurate, BUT the folks who made it never bragged about how much smarter they were than other people about Greek myth or call themselves "folklorists" when they didn't even have any formal education/training/etc. in it cough like another creator we know cough 💀 If we want to make a comparison between LO and a Disney film in terms of how it grossly misrepresents the themes and cultural contexts of the original stories it was drawing from... Disney's Pocahontas does exactly that 💅

So if you want to avoid any "grossly" Americanized versions of Greek myth that are borderline disrespectful to the stories they're drawing from... yeah, that's usually a pretty indicative red flag LMAO

But outside of those very specific scenarios, just have fun with it, there really is no "right or wrong" way to engage with the mythology if you're simply just wanting to learn more, the beauty of it being mythology is that it's very diverse in its mediums and thus you don't have to be restricted to learning about it exclusively through academic translations or lectures. Of course, there are cultural intersections with these myths that shouldn't be ignored, we always have to treat it with care when engaging with it so that we aren't overwriting another culture's traditions or beliefs - but if you're simply wanting to learn about and entertain yourself with some amazing stories that have quite literally stood the test of time, do so however you see fit :)

[midnighthazee]

Greenridge ABO Series

Series Masterlist Masterlist

Warnings: explicit language, fear, mentions of past abuse/trauma, violence, abuse, mentions of blood, pet names, a lil smut... 18+ MDNI

WC: 5867

Chapter 11

Two days went by. Two long, agonizingly slow days. The Mansae pack had made it to the house within the hour and Changbin explained how chaotic their day had been. The Mansae members eagerly pitched in to help. Their pack medic Joshua and his assistant Seungkwan worked with Felix and Doctor Quinn in keeping an eye on you. They checked your vitals every hour, keeping you on an IV drip. They also took shifts at night to keep an eye on you around the clock.

Changbin and Seungmin went to check on Minho since there were so many people at home to protect you should the Nykos attack. Jeongin wouldn’t stray too far from you though. He even slept on the floor in the basement living room the first night.

  When Changbin and Seungmin arrived at the house, Minho growled and yanked at the chains when they entered.

“Minho?” Seungmin spoke cautiously.

“We really should have put some clothes on him before locking him up.” Chanbin noted.

Minho was still hard, his tip red and leaking.

Seungmin stepped forward carefully, looking into Minho’s eyes. They were golden and no longer red so that was a good sign. Changbin stood back, observing in case he needed to intervene.

“Please.” Minho rasped.

“Please what?” Seungmin asked, catching Minho’s rut scent.

“Touch me.” Minho hung his head, voice barely audible.

Seungmin stepped forward, caressing Minho’s cheek. Minho whimpered, leaning into his touch. He was covered in cum, so was the floor, and Seungmin felt bad. He clearly had been trying but to no avail.

“I’ll help you.” Seungmin whispered, kissing Minho as his hand dropped to Minho’s cock and stroked.

Minho bucked his hips, searching for more friction. Seungmin squeezed hard, pumping his hand faster. It was only a few minutes before Minho cried out, cum dribbling down Seungmin’s hand. Minho’s body shook as the orgasm washed over him. Finally, after hours, he began to soften. Apparently it wasn’t enough for him to do it, he needed someone else’s touch.

Seungmin littered his face and neck with kisses as Minho leaned into him. Changbin went and grabbed some pillows and a blanket from the other room, placing it next to Minho so he could rest. Then he cleaned him off while Seungmin went to wash his hands. Minho laid down, his wrists and ankles still chained to the wall.

“Should we unlock him?” Seungmin asked upon return.

“We’ll check on him when he wakes up.” Changbin assures, kissing Minho’s temple.

“I’m going to stay here until he wakes.” Seungmin said, sitting next to Minho and rubbing his back.

Changbin nodded, heading back to the house.

It took a few hours but eventually Minho woke up. 

“Seungmin? Wh-where’s y/n?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember waking up next to y/n this morning. I started my rut and told her to leave but she insisted on helping me.”

“She did!?” 

“Yes…You seriously think I took advantage of her?.” Minho glared, shaking his wrists to make the metal clink. 

That must be why I’m locked up, he thought.

“I don’t know. We thought the urges took over or something.” 

Seungmin shrugged, looked away. He was unsure how to break the news, knowing how Minho was - he was not going to take this well. Of course Minho could tell there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Spit it out Seungmin.” Minho demanded.

Seungmin sighed, “You went feral. That’s probably why you don’t remember. My guess is it was because of Lewis’s mark. ”

Minho clenched his jaw, staring at the far wall. “What did I do?”

Seungmin took a deep breath.

“You marked her.” He looked at his alpha, awaiting his reaction.

Minho swallowed, his fists clenched. “How bad is it?”

“Minho…”

“How…bad?” Minho growled.

“She sub-dropped.”

Minho took a deep breath. “I wanna see her.”

“I don’t think that’-”

“Tell her I’m not going to hurt her. That I’m chained-”

“She’s in the med room…we are waiting for her to wake up.” Seungmin spoke in a quiet voice.

Minho finally looked at him and Seungmin shivered under his intense gaze. 

“It’s not your fault-” Seungmin tried to say.

“It is. I did this.” Minho looked back at the ground. “You should go be with her.”

“I’m here to help you with your rut. She’s got plenty of people around her right now.”

“I don’t need help.” Minho stated.

“Minho…”

“Seungmin…I love you…but I demand you leave. Go.” Minho commanded with his alpha voice.

Seungmin stood, shoulders slumped, and with one last look, he left. He headed back to the house, finding Changbin. Changbin sighed upon hearing about Minho but told Seungmin to just give him space to process. Seungmin did bring Minho dinner after a little while but he said he didn’t want it.

The next day, Changbin had gone to bring him food. Minho was sitting there, staring off in space. Changbin could see a tent where the sheet covered his crotch but Minho ignored it. Changbin undid the chains, but Minho didn’t move. 

“You need to eat.” Changbin said after a few minutes of silence.

Minho just stared at the floor, catatonic.

“She’s doing better.” Changbin offered. “Her vitals are going up so that’s promising. We are still trying to find Chan but I swear it-”

“Chan is missing?” Minho finally spoke, looking to Changbin.

“Seungmin didn’t tell you?”

“No. Tell me what?”

“Chan didn’t come home yesterday. The Mansae pack is here to help us find them.”

“That’s what Seungmin meant when he said she’s got plenty of people around her.” Minho muttered.

“Yes. I swear it’s the Nykos but we have no proof. Two of Seungcheol’s people went to track their phones’ last location. Hopefully from there we can find them.”

“If it was the Nykos, go storm their house and get them back.” Minho deadpanned.

“If we do…and they aren’t there…” Changbin shook his head. “We can’t be reckless. You know this.”

Minho sighed. “I hate that I put this on you and Innie.”

“It’s not your fault. Plus, I think it’s good for Innie.”

“I knew I should have kicked her out of my room.” Minho shook his head.

“Minho…you would still be dealing with your rut. So you would still be here.” Changbin reminded him. “Eat please.”

Reluctantly, Minho ate his food and Changbin went back to the house. Seungmin would be there later and end up helping him a bit with his rut, Minho’s urges taking over.

Hoshi and Mingyu finally called, letting everyone know that they found their phones as well as the car flipped over in a ditch. They were further convinced of this being a kidnapping since one of the doors was ripped off. It was also unsettling to think they were hurt from the car accident. 

Jeongin was soothing Felix as he sobbed in his lap, this all being too much for the sensitive beta. Jeongin was doing his best to remain calm and collected, soothing Felix and learning from the older alphas and betas.

Nighttime finally came and everyone was getting some rest. Changbin was restless of course but sleeping. The Mansae pack was scattered around the house, sleeping on couches or piled with each other in the guest room. 

Jeongin, after finally getting Felix relaxed and sleeping, went to check on you. He was standing in the doorway, watching you carefully. You were sleeping peacefully, although your skin looked pale. Jeongin missed your smile, the sound of your voice, your laugh. He smiled at the memories, impatient for you to wake.

Thump…thump…thump…thump…th-

Jeongin hurried to your side, squeezing your wrist. No pulse.

“FELIX!” Jeongin yelled, starting CPR.

Felix popped up, confused. 

“FELIX!” Jeongin called again, waking a few others.

Felix sprinted into the room, Joshua shaking Seungkwan.

“What happened?” Felix questioned. 

“I don’t know. One minute she was fine. Then I heard her heart stop.” Jeongin explained.

“Push epi.” Joshua said.

Felix measured out the epi and fed it through your IV, Jeongin still giving CPR. Felix’s eyes were teary but he blinked them away. He had to be strong for you right now.

“Pulse check.” Joshua said.

Jeongin stopped as Joshua pressed two fingers under your jawline.

“She’s got a pulse.” 

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

“Ohh, thank god.” Felix said, dropping to the ground.

“Breath, Lixie.” Jeongin rushed to his side and rubbed his back as he cried. The stress was definitely getting to him.

“Her heart is weak right now. But it’s fighting.” Joshua informed.

“She’s strong. She’s a fighter.” Felix sniffled, standing up. “She made it out of that hellhole. She will survive this.” 

Joshua smiled sympathetically, nodding his head.

“You three rest, I’ll keep watch.” Seungkwan offered.

“I’m fine.” Felix said, holding onto your hand.

“Lix, you only slept an hour. And only four the night before” Jeongin held Felix’s other hand. 

“I’m not leaving her side again!” Felix nearly yelled. 

“Okay,” was all Jeongin said.

Jeongin stepped out of the med room, Joshua and Seungkwan too. They laid back down in their spots on the couch, Jeongin noticing Minho at the back door. He was inside, just standing there staring with a blank expression. Jeongin sniffed the air, not catching the scent of his rut. Was it over already?

Seeing Minho’s eyes look towards the med room, he wondered how much of that he heard.

“Go see her.” Jeongin whispered.

Minho looked at him, making him squirm under the harsh stare.

“I’m sure it would help if you go hold her hand or-” Jeongin stopped when Minho moved.

Minho walked around the couch opposite of the med room and headed upstairs without a word. Jeongin pouted. If he would go see you, it might help you recover, especially now that you’re bonded and he marked you. But Jeongin didn’t push. Instead he just tried to get some sleep.

It was the early hours of the night and everyone was asleep. Minho stood in the doorway of the med room, refusing to enter as he watched your slow breaths. He locked in on the faint heartbeat of yours, staring as Felix was cuddled into your side, finally sleeping. The bed was barely big enough for the both of you but he didn’t care. He needed to be close to you.

Minho looked behind him, seeing Jeongin asleep on the couch. He remembered what he said, and what he’d been taught of soulmates. Sighing, he stepped forward, coming to your side opposite of Felix. Seeing you like this made his heart ache. He had done this - he had nearly killed you. And you were still not out of the woods yet. 

Hesitantly, he reached his hand out to yours and took it. Your touch felt tingly on his skin as held your hand. Studying you, it sounded as if your heart beat was stronger. Counting, he realized it was elevated. Maybe being bonded does help. 

He held your hand for a while, not wanting to pull away. Nearly twenty minutes passed and he heard movement from the living room. He closed his eyes, leaning down and breathing your scent before whispering in your ear.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed your cheek and left, his hand slipping from yours.

It was the next morning when Doctor Quinn returned. She checked your vitals, Felix filling her in on what happened last night. It made her worry, but your vitals were in a healthy range and she felt optimistic of your recovery. Felix wouldn’t believe it till you were awake and talking though.

Minho was upstairs, cooking breakfast for everyone. Changbin insisted he rest but Minho ignored him. So Jeongin and Changbin pitched in to help him cook for everyone. Soon breakfast was ready, Felix refusing to leave your side. Seungmin brought him a plate down, kissed your temple and went upstairs to eat.

“We can’t keep sitting around. We need to go to the Nykos and get our boys back.” Minho said once everyone was done eating.

“We don’t know how many people are at their house right now. Their numbers are huge…like five times ours. We would have to bring everyone - I-land and Ahgase - and hope we have enough.” Seungcheol noted.

“Someone has to stay behind for y/n,” Seungmin added.

“Doctor Quinn can.” Minho said. 

“What if they bring a handful of people for y/n? Doctor Quinn can’t protect her from one alpha, let alone like two or three betas.” Seungmin pointed out.

Minho sighed. If they split their numbers to leave you guarded, they risk not having enough to rescue their members. Not that they had enough anyways if reinforcements were already in place. If they had your pack members, they probably had packs on guard ready to attack. 

“Even if we leave her with just Doctor Quinn, who says we would make it past the border. They would be expecting us and keep us off their lands. We could very much not even make it to the house.” Wonwoo said as if he read Minho’s thoughts.

“I just can’t stand them being there as long as they have. Who knows what shit Lewis is pulling right now.” Minho grumbled, running his fingers through his hair.

“What if we have Doctor Quinn take y/n away. Hide her somewhere while she recovers. She would be safe, and we better our odds on the front lines. We are just going to have to take the chance of guarded borders and large numbers.” Changbin suggested. “We can call I-land and Ahgase. Tell them to get here immediately and make our move tonight. That way our people don’t spend another night there.”

“I hate to play devil’s advocate…” It was Hoshi, raising his hand to intervene. “But what if they aren’t even at the house. Lewis could have taken them somewhere else.”

It was silent.

That was definitely an option, one they didn’t want to think about. If they made it to the house, and their people weren’t there…

“Then we torture him until he talks. Kill no one and only take prisoners. Someone will break and tell us where they are being held.” Minho states. “We move at dusk. I’ll call I-land and get them here. S.Coups, can you call Ahgase?”

“Of course.”

“Everyone, get some rest and fuel up. I need you at your best.” Minho says. 

Everyone nods and moves to get themselves fight ready for tonight.

Meanwhile in the basement, Felix was checking your vitals for the third time that hour. He was stressing to say the least, anxious your heart would stop again. You had been dressed in some of your clothes, the new mark cleaned carefully by Doctor Quinn.

As he took your blood pressure, reading the dial as he listened, you blinked your eyes open. Your brows furrowed at the harsh overhead lighting. You blinked rapidly as your eyes adjusted, turning your head slowly when you noticed someone next to you. A small moan escaped you, causing Felix to look at you. 

“You’re awake!” Felix practically fell on you. “Oh my god, you’re awake!

You groaned a little as he squeezed you, your lips turning up into a small smile.

“Oh, y/n! I was so worried. We all were!” Felix spoke with tears in his eyes.

You swallowed, trying to sit up.

“Easy. Take it easy. Let me get you some water.” Felix sprinted from the room, across the living room to the bar and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He was back within thirty seconds and placed it to your lips. He tipped it slowly, helping you drink.

“What happened?” you rasped, coughing.

He helped you with a few more sips. “What do you remember?”

You thought back. The last thing you remembered was waking up in Minho’s arms and he had started his rut. Your eyes got wide, worried about what happened during that time for you to end up in the med room with Felix crying. But Felix waited for you to speak, not forcing any memories.

“I remember Minho got his rut. And…I pushed him to let me help.”

Felix nodded. “That’s it?”

“I remember feeling this…blinding pain. Like nothing I had ever felt before. Not even with the Nykos.” You said that last sentence in a small voice, hating that something hurt you more than the Nykos.

“Minho marked you. He went feral upon seeing Lewis’s bite and his instincts went into overdrive.”

“But it didn’t hurt like that before.”

“It’s because he was overwriting the old one. Your old bond was being broken, a new one forming. Doctor Quinn was supposed to be here to observe when you were finally ready. You know, in case you sub-dropped… which you did.” Felix explained.

“Where is he? Where’s Minho? Is he okay?”

“He’s upstairs and he’s fine.”

“I should help him.” you moved to stand.

“Whoa, y/n.” Felix guided you back down. “Help him with what? His rut?”

You nodded.

“You’re in no condition for that. Plus he’s not rutting anymore.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know. He stopped last night.” Felix shrugged.

“How long have I been out?” 

“Two days.” Felix whispered, stroking your cheek.

“Two days?!” You gasped. “Wait, he's done already?”

“Apparently. It's confusing for him too.” Felix shrugged. “But he said there have been reports of skipping a rut or one ending early during times of high stress.”

It was quiet for a few moments as you processed everything Felix told you. He tucked your hair behind your ear, smiling at you. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, looking at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap.

Felix took your hand in his. “Sorry for what, love?”

“Being a burden. We should be worrying about the Nykos…”

“No, no. Shhhh.” Felix squeezed your hand. “You are never a burden. We will always take care of you, no matter what. We love you. I love you.”

You meet his loving gaze, your own eyes watering. “You do?”

“Yes. I don’t care if it seems too soon. I know how I feel.” Felix says. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

“Felix, Minho wants to see - hey you’re awake!” 

You tensed at the foreign man coming into the med room. Felix felt you squeeze his hand and remembered you hadn’t met them yet.

“It’s okay. This is Joshua. He’s part of the Mansae pack. He’s a friend and he’s been helping me take care of you. Him and Seungkwan.”

You looked at him and he smiled at you. You looked down, avoiding eye contact with the alpha and whispering, “Thank you.” 

“Oh course. I’m glad to see you awake and talking.”

“I have to go see Minho. Will you be okay stay-” “Let me come.” you pleaded.

“Y/n…you need rest.”

“I’m okay. I’ve been resting. I wanna see Minho.”

Felix didn’t know how to tell you that Minho didn’t really want to see you right now. Instead, he was too busy beating himself up over it all.

“Y/n…” Joshua stepped forward. “You were…without a pulse for a while. Felix and Jeongin finally brought you back but your heart stopped again just last night. I’m happy, but a little surprised you’re awake so soon after that. And with such strong vitals…. I know it’s a lot to take in, but you really should rest your body. You don’t want to stress it too soon.”

You looked to Felix to see if what Joshua was saying was true but he was looking down at your intertwined fingers, gnawing his lower lip. It must be true and the thought made you whine. Truth is, Felix was happy Joshua told you, he didn’t have the heart to relive it by telling you himself.

“I’ll send the boys down, okay?” Felix forced a smile as he reassured you.

You just nodded, knowing he needed to go. 

Upstairs, Felix rushed over to the boys on the couch.

“She’s awake! Y/n’s talking and she’s awake!”

“Really?!” Jeongin popped up from the couch.

Felix nodded his head excitedly.

Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin rushed downstairs, racing and arguing about who’s getting the first hug.

Minho remained seated on the couch, not showing how relieved he was to hear this news. He couldn’t bear it if he had killed his soulmate - hell, their soulmate.

“Don’t say a word.” Minho warned them as they descended the stairs.

“Say a word about what?”

“I don’t want her to know about our mates. She doesn’t need the stress.”

“You’re going to lie to her?”

“No.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

“Doctor Quinn is going to take her somewhere private and secluded while we infiltrate the Nykos.” “I’ll go with her.”

“Felix. I need you fighting with us. We need everyone helping. We don’t know what we are walking into or how many people will be there.” Minho’s tone was serious and gave no room for protest.

Felix's shoulders dropped but he nodded.

“So I need you rested and ready. We leave at dusk. I-land and Ahgase will be here soon. Doctor Quinn too. We will leave and then she will take y/n away.”

“This is all happening so fast.” Felix stated.

“I know. But I can’t leave them at Lewis’s mercy another night.”

“Okay. I’ll be ready.” Felix said.

“Thank you.”

“You should go see her.” 

“Go eat.” Minho stood and walked off.

“Minho.” Felix stood and he stopped. “She’s okay. You don’t have to punish yourself. Go see her. She even asked about you.”

Minho looked back at Felix and, without a word, left towards his room. Once behind his door, he exhaled heavily, clutching his chest as he dropped to his knees. Silent tears fell from his eyes as relief washed over him. He sobbed for a few minutes before collecting himself and standing. 

He hadn’t been in his room since coming back from the rut house, too preoccupied with everything going on. And now, he’s seeing the messy state he left behind. Walking forward, he looked down at his unmade bed - the sheets blood stained. You bled on his sheets when he bit you, and now the sheets were a reminder.

Minho moved robotically, ripping the sheets from his bed. He rolled them up into a ball and took them out to the trash in the garage. Then he came up, finding new sheets in the hall linen closet. He made his bed and tidied up his room before going back to his action plans.

The boys had practically fallen down the stairs to get to you, scaring you briefly with all their commotion. 

“Y/n!” They exclaimed, about to attack you with a group hug. 

“Easy.” Joshua warned, but to no avail. 

You winced, the pressure of them hugging you made your shoulder hurt a bit. The mark was still sensitive, your tissue healing.

“Sorry.” Seungmin muttered, kissing your temple. 

Jeongin leaned in and kissed your forehead, Changbin kissing your cheek. He wanted to kiss your lips but nobody knew about the first time. (He also didn't want to do it in front of everyone).

“Are you hungry? Seungmin can make you some food.” Changbin offered.

You shook your head. 

“You need to eat. It's been like three days, darling.” Seungmin squeezes your hand. 

You pout but don't say anything.

“I'm gonna make your favorite, okay?” Seungmin says. 

You can't help but smile. He pecks your cheek and then hurries off upstairs. 

“Where are the others?” You ask.

“Um…they are working on the,uh…the Lewis problem.” Changbin says. 

You notice the way his smile seems tight. Like he's hiding something. But you don't get a chance to ask because Felix comes back and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“This one…has refused to leave your side.” Jeongin says, jabbing his thumb in Felix's direction. 

Felix smiles sheepishly. “I was worried.”

“We all were. But we still rested and ate.” Jeongin notes.

You smile at Felix, your heart warming at his undying love. All of them cared about you so much and you didn't know how to handle it. It was overwhelming but in the best way. 

After a few minutes of them cooing over you and helping you to the bathroom, Seungmin returned with food. 

“M'lady,” he said with a bow. 

You giggled, taking the plate. It smelled so good, your stomach growled loudly. The boys chuckled as you started eating. 

Joshua came back in, telling the boys that Minho was asking for them. They promised to be back quickly, leaving you alone to your thoughts. You kept eating, thinking about how you probably scared them all so bad. It looked like they hadn’t been sleeping much and that made you sad. 

Suddenly, you got a bright idea for a sleepover night. You would get pillows and blankets and set them up in the living room, demanding everyone huddle together for the night. That would probably be the best way to get everyone to have a good night’s rest. And that way you didn’t have to be alone with your nightmares just yet.

After eating, you attempted to stand. The IV was still in your arm, but you ripped it out, now knowing how to turn off the flow of it. You pushed the covers off and swung your legs over. Your body was stiff and you wanted to move around to get the blood flowing.

You slid off the bed, your feet dropping about a foot before hitting the cold tile. Your legs felt a little weak and wobbly but you managed all your weight on them. Carefully, you walked to the foot of the bed and found that it wasn’t hard - you didn’t even need to support yourself. You continued walking, upstairs to a living room crowded with foreign faces.

You froze, not sure what to do. The mix of smells was overwhelming. You looked into the kitchen and saw Minho at the island. Quickly, you walked over and hugged him from behind. He tenses.

“Are you okay?” you whisper.

Minho swallows. “I should be the one asking that.”

You let go and he finishes making his sandwich. 

“Minho…” you start.

“I gotta get some planning done.” Minho walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to Chan’s office.

You pout. He barely looked at you. And he seemed so distant. Your mark began to sting a little. He wasn't… rejecting you, was he? He hasn’t been this cold since your first day. Your cheeks flush red as you realize all the people probably witnessed that.

“He’s just processing.” One spoke up. “I’m Seungcheol.”

“Y/n.” you forced a smile.

“I think he blames himself for you… well… you almost dying.” 

The idea made your heart ache. Nothing about this was his fault. It was yours since you pushed him the other morning. Sighing, you go back downstairs. You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to go back into that room. So you decided to go out back.

Outside, you inhaled deeply, enjoying the smells of the yard. The fresh crisp smell of the leaves and trees. It was a bit colder than you last remembered, making you hug yourself. You stepped forward, your barefeet in the grass. It was comforting - the freeness of being outside. 

You caught a whiff of unknown wolves as you heard chatter from above. It must be members of the other pack on the balcony. You went to go back in before you caught some of the conversation.

“I don’t know what condition we are going to find Chan in. I’m worried.” one of them said.

Find Chan?

“Lewis is probably doing a num-ber on him for taking the omega. And I can’t wait to put a hot poker through his eye.” spoke a second one with a grunt as he acted out the motion.

Lewis what?

“Tell me about… That bastard needs to be humbled.” the first spoke again.

Your legs move before you think, carrying you upstairs. You look around the living room, everyone stopping and looking your way. Some hushed voices whispered as you made your way down the hall to Chan’s office. Swinging the door open, you find it empty. You march back down the hall and upstairs.

“Y/n? What are you doing out of bed?” It was Jeongin.

“Where’s Chan?” you asked.

“Uh, he’s with-

“Lewis?” you interrupt.

Jeongin swallowed.

“H-how do you know that?”

“So it’s true.”

“Y/n…” 

“You weren’t going to tell me?” your voice was getting louder.

Jeongin pulled you into Felix’s room since it was the closest. It was the only bedroom without a neutral color scheme, a dark blue on the walls. It also had a cute window seat on the far wall.

“What are -,” Felix said, caught off guard by the intrusion.

“She knows.” Jeongin deadpanned.

“Knows?” Felix asks cautiously.

“That Chan is with Lewis.” you answer, crossing your arms.

Felix’s eyes go wide, sucking in a breath.

“What happened?” you ask.

They sat you down, explaining everything they knew.

“Let me come with you.”

“You just woke up from a two-day coma.” Felix states.

“I can fight.”

Jeongin laughs.

“It’s not funny. I’ve been training too. Please! I can’t sit here and do nothing when it’s my fault in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault.” Felix gives her a look.

“If I hadn’t veered off course and ended up in your yard, they would be prisoners right now.”

“If you hadn’t ended up in our yard, you would probably be dead. Or still suffering and not knowing you had actual soulmates.” Changbin stated from the doorway.

You all turned to see the beta with his arms crossed. He wasn’t wrong…

“Minho said Doctor Quinn was going to take you somewhere safe in case they try to come here for you.” Changbin explained.

“No.” You say, standing from Felix’s bed. 

“Sorry, babe.” Changbin shrugged.

“This isn’t fair.” “It’s for your protection.” Jeongin grabbed your hand. “Please let us keep you safe.”

You look into his pleading eyes. You didn’t know if it was his cute pout or he did some alpha influence thing, but you rolled your eyes. “Fine. I’m going to shower.”

You left their room, showered and dressed within an hour. It felt nice to freshen up and put clean clothes on. Then you went over to your nightstand, taking out a notepad and pen. You decided to write a note to Minho to leave on your bed. 

Sorry boys,

I can’t let anymore of you get hurt by Lewis. 

I Love You.

You glanced one last time at your room, not knowing whether you would ever make it back. You committed it to memory and closed your door. Then you casually made your way down to the basement. Most of the hybrids were congregated in the kitchen eating. You heard the doorbell and realized it was probably the other packs coming in. But you kept going. 

The few people in the basement were asleep. So you quietly snuck past them, opening the basement door and slipping out. You hurried across the lawn, checking to make sure there wasn’t anyone up on the balcony before doing so. Once the coast was clear, you darted into the trees and hurried off towards the Nykos. 

You didn’t know how far it was to their property, but you pushed on. At least you had shoes now and proper clothes, although you probably should’ve worn pants and a sweater, not shorts and a t-shirt. The sun was beginning to set, making the air feel colder.

You pushed on, hugging yourself to keep warm. The scent in the air started to smell more familiar, flashes of your nights running away from the brothers came to mind. You pushed them away and walked forward. 

It had been an hour and the sun was nearly set. You continued on, watching your step. You followed the scent, climbing up a hill at one point. Then you notice a worn path. Looking up, you see a tree with letters carved in it - your initials. You were here. You made it back to Nyko territory. 

Now you just had to make it into the house undetected and find the boys. They would probably be in the basement like you were. The hairs on your arms and neck stood up. It was eerie being back after all this time. The memories kept threatening to creep up on you, but you focused on your mates and happy memories.

Snap.

You jump, twirling around. No one was behind you. You swear you heard a branch. Cautiously, you keep walking. It was quiet for a minute until another snap. You turn again. But this time, everything goes dark. Your hands instinctively reach for your face - a bag covering it. Muscular arms grab you and lift you up.

You scream and thrash in an effort to get away but his grip doesn’t loosen. You hear the creak of the backdoor and know that you’re now in the house. You’re thrown to the ground, bag removed. You blink at the light as your eyes adjust. Looking at the man hovering over you, you don’t recognize him. He must be from an allied pack, hence why he was guarding the border.

“Boss will be out to see you.” he grumbled, his voice deep and crackly.

You look around and notice another man standing by the outside door. You were in the living room, the basement door off by the far wall. The lock on the door was open. Perfect.

You eye the men, watching as one paces the living room. The other stands guard, looking between you and his comrade. You slowly adjust your position on the floor, subtly getting yourself closer to the door. The one who carried you pulls out his phone. You look to the other and he’s looking outside. As quietly as you can, you rush to the basement door, swinging it open.

“Hey!” the men yell after you but you’re halfway down the stairs.

That god awful smell hits you, making your eyes water. You splash in the puddles as you hurry to look in the cells. They were empty. Not even the other omegas were in here. Panic sets in as you make your way to the torture room in the back. You hear the mens’ footsteps coming down the stairs.

Please don’t be in here. Please. You think as you round the corner.

The door was wide open and you were met with an unpleasant sight.

You gasped loudly, staring at the hanging body. It was naked and covered in open wounds from torture, completely mutilated. But it wasn’t Chan.

It was Lewis.

He was dead. Alpha Lewis was dead.

Your vision started to blur and you felt lightheaded. Your stomach churned at the sight, making you lean over and vomit on the floor.

The men groaned, carrying you back upstairs. They dumped you on the floor yet again and, this time, the room started to spin. You tried to focus your vision at the sound of footsteps, but you were only met with a pair of black boots and an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello, little sis.”

TAGLIST:

@estella-novella @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @butterflydemons @readr1221 @gaby105-skz @notevenheretbh1 @bah2004 @sinfulfic @bowsnbang @just-a-blackthorn-cookie @dreamerwasfound @motheraiya55 @m00njinnie @writeuntilthebitterend @jutdwae-flower @staytinyluv @emmxxsworld @galaxy4489 @wolfo2027 @iknow-uknow-leeknow @thatgirlangelb @fr34k4c1dr41n

[sunshine-zenith]

On my daily rewatch of anw I'm thinking about how people thought Hazel and Dev should've swapped fairies because of how unfair the godparent system was and how Dev needed more experienced godparents or how Peri should've been assigned an easy case and while that may be true, I'm just thinking how that swap would have suited the kids' needs.

With Dev, yes, he was a hard case and probably should've had godparent who had more experience with children like him, but he is a child who is lacking in the parental department and needed someone to fill that role.

Same is true for Hazel. She would have been more suited for a first-time godparent, but what she needed and missed the most was her brother and who do we know who has experience with being someone's godbrother? Peri.

I'm probably just rephrasing stuff here so this probably didn't need to be said. Everything more or less worked out for everyone and eventually for others (hopefully).

Anon I have been rotating this ask around in my head since it popped up into my ask box

Confession: I and many others have thought about the similarities between Peri and Hazel, and pointed out that Dev was not a case for a beginner, but I haven’t seriously considered a full out fairy swap until now because I’m actually very fond of the Hazel-Cosmo-Wanda dynamic and the Dev-Peri tragedy dynamic

Still… yeah, you’re kinda right. Dev genuinely would’ve been better suited for experienced godparents, and he might actually benefit from Cosmo and Wanda specifically because A) there’s two of them and B) they’re very parental with their godkids. And Hazel — having Hazel, the kid who misses her brother so much it tipped over the Needs A Fairy edge, be paired up with the godparent who lost his older brother is kinda brilliant

It kinda makes me wonder about how things would be different if we got Hazel-Peri and Dev-Cosmo-Wanda…

Heads up, this gets long

The first thing I wonder about isn’t so much the dynamics, but rather who would be the protagonist? I adore Hazel as a main character, but Cosmo and Wanda are the FOP difacto mascots. They’re the ones who get the cameos and appear in the reboots/sequels. They can exist independently from Timmy/Hazel/Chloe/Viv. If they’re Dev’s fairies, then Dev would be the main POV character. And like. I love Dev, I do, but he’s an asshole. I understand why and I’m down to justify anything he does, but he’s a dick. Plus, well, he’s also super sad. It’d be very hard to make him a fun POV character, especially pre/mid-character development, at least without switching the genre from Heart Felt Comedy Aimed At Children/All Ages to something much darker and more mature. He’s a great side character/deuteragonist, but it would be a Commitment if we followed him 95% of the time

(And before anyone comes at me about Timmy also being The Worst, a lot of that was flanderization. By the time he gets that that point, let’s be real a lot of people stopped watching, and even then he at least had half a dozen I Love Yous and sweet moments with Cosmo and Wanda to make the commitment worth it to the audience.)

Hazel and Peri

So if we keep Hazel as the lead and Peri as her fairy, how’d that work, writing wise? Do we keep his introduction the same and hope the audience is fine with a Sequel Babies Series. Or (and this is just me having fun), do we hypothetically cut out the part where he Introduces Himself With His Deadname For The Audience’s Sake and just hint at him as being Poof from the original series. Then, after Founder’s Day, we introduce Cosmo and Wanda as Dev’s fairies, and the Peri Is Grown Up Poof thing is treated as a Big Reveal, a la Author Of The Journals from Gravity Falls

Now that out of the way, how do I think these dynamics would work, and how would it affect Dev and Hazel’s relationship?

Like you said, Hazel and Peri connecting over missing brothers is a great starting point, and Peri getting to be the big brother for once would be so much fun to watch. Plus, and I’ve pointed this out before, they’re both rule followers (I can totally see a gag of them bonding over Hazel’s DMV love), though Hazel is willing to play things by ear, while Peri gets majorly stressed/anxious/high strung when rule breaking is in question — in fact, that could be a fun angle to some potential conflicts. Hazel makes a wish, but she doesn’t know how to find the words for what she wants, and since Peri is so new, he doesn’t have the experience to confidently guess. He hesitates, both of them get caught in a mini Anxiety Loop, and escalating event happening in the background force them into action, and through hijinx, they both receive character development

I can also see the Antony thing leading to conflict for them — Hazel’s brother is gone, but he comes back. He visits. They reconnect. Meanwhile, Timmy’s gone gone. His memory is wiped. I can see Peri occasionally accidentally fumbling Hazel’s missing Antony with his own likely grief over Timmy. Maybe after another missed flight or phone call, Peri tries to be “supportive” in the same way he tried to cheer Dev up at his birthday, and he accidentally says something that makes Hazel not only miss her old life, but thing she’ll never have any sort of relationship with Antony again.

Or maybe Peri does handle it well until Antony comes back. Then, alongside Hazel trying to recreate the past, Peri gets overwhelmed with jealousy, like he was when Irep tried taking his place with Dev but dialed up by 10. He worries he’ll lose his first godkid AND be fumbling with reawakened grief

(Plus hey, I can actually see this scenario as a good way to justify bringing Timmy back. Maybe Hazel could even include Timmy’s memories as part of her Rule Free Wish in the finally)

Basically Hazel and Peri have so much in common that if they were the main duo, those similarities could lead to so many bonding moments AND dramatic moments where through being mirrors for each other they accidentally hurt each other and help each other to grow as people

(It makes me wonder how Peri would hide himself in Hazel’s day to day life. Peri becomes inanimate objects for Dev, sure, but he doesn’t have a consistent object he hides as. Maybe Peri could have a human disguise, pretending to be a recent college grad who moves into Hazel’s building? Or maybe he could be a “new pet rock”?)

(Also I have a lot of thoughts on C&W being disguised as pets for Timmy and neighbors for Hazel, but that’s a ramble for another day.)

Dev, Cosmo, and Wanda

So the first question is how would Dev become Cosmo and Wanda’s godkid? They weren’t actually assigned to Hazel, they basically just adopted her. Maybe, Cosmo and Wanda could still be traveling and just end up in Dimmadelphia around Founder’s Day, and through their observations, they seen Dev is going through it and come out of retirement for him. This could also lead to a Cookie situation with Dev instead of Hazel (imagine Dev pretending to be a lawyer, there would 100% be a gag of him acting as every shady lawyer stereotype you know.)

I can see Dev still lashing out at them, probably still demanding perfection for hollow wishes since he can’t get what he really wants, BUT C&W would cause mischief as they misinterpret his wishes. I can also see him acting unimpressed/impatient when they take him on little side quests to meet with fairies that specialize in the things he wishes for. He’s have to defrost to them, and they (likely especially Cosmo) would push his buttons. Dev would also probably deny having fun during these adventures. I’m sure he’d eventually come to see them the same way he saw Irep)

A potential conflict could come from the fact that a lot of Dev’s wishes are by nature spiteful/fueled by pride. Again, major Dev apologist here, we’re talking about the kid who wished for a an evil ghost to come from the depths of hell after having a fairy for less than a week. C&W would still grant his wishes, but they wouldn’t approve of him being a bully, and would probably try really hard to get him to realize the error of his ways through these wishes

It’s likely that Dev wouldn’t even get involved with the anti-fairies here. If he did, I can only see this after Dev specifically makes a wish relating to his father loving him, which C&W can’t grant, or something similar — a breakdown after a big, direct moment instead of a breakdown after months of little, indirect moments

I can also see him both clinging to them as parental figures and resenting them as misplaced anger and sadness over his neglectful dad

I can also see him seeing Peri (and maybe even Timmy) as a threat here — Peri is their son, who they adore like Dev wishes Dale adored him. And since Peri isn’t Dev’s godparent here and therefore doesn’t feel the need to look out for/do right by him, Peri would like sass him harder or treat him as an annoyance, an extension of any tension that comes up when C&W their clingy thing. In a scenario where Dev still ended up under an anti-fairy’s influence, he might even wish Peri was Nothing, or still kidnap Peri here out of misplaced resentment

Dev and Hazel

I feel like swapping fairies would also affect their relationship. Part of their comes from Dev’s jealousy over Hazel’s relationship with C&W — she has two while he only has one, she has a positive relationship with her while his “can’t do anything right” (can’t cross the red tape of Da Rules, doesn’t have the experience/comfort level to go buckwild with wishes/has parents that love him/etc). Here, that wouldn’t be a problem— Hazel wouldn’t care that Dev has two fairies instead of one, and C&W would probably have an easier time getting through Dev’s defenses. It’s possible that a lot of their fights and negative interactions just wouldn’t happen here, and if they did, it would be related to Hazel wanting Dev to be nicer to C&W/Peri.

[rottenherbs]

Taken Seriously // H.P x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Coming back to Hogwarts to start your 6th year, you had quite the “glow up” over the summer. You visited family over in America and may or may not have gotten several piercings. Most Hogwarts students were tame with their appearance, but you weren’t one to follow trends. How would a certain black haired boy react? Did you remind him of someone? (y/n/n: your nick name)

Author's Note: This one was written for me TBH. I am heavily tattooed and pierced and kinda day dream what a 24 year old me would look like in hogwarts. Not really aging up anyone to my age, but … yea know —

// Requests Open! Should I make this a series? // 

Much love, Saige

———- 

Your mother called you rebellious, in a loving way of course but she worried about sending you off to school a little more this year. 

“Mom no one will probably care.” You laugh, her soft hands resting on your shoulders. She looks over your features once more, the sound of the train and whistles reminding you both that you needed to go. She sighed and placed a kiss between your eyes. 

“I know. I love you for exactly who you are.” She smiled, pulling her hands back from your sides. You and your mom had a bond like no other, her scarlet hair matching yours, a small dimple on her left cheek, and a small birthmark placed between your eyebrows. You could’ve been twins in another life. Love radiated through you pulling her in for one more hug. 

“I'll be home for the holidays. I promise.” You whispered into her ear. You felt her relax in your arms. You let go giving her a small wink grabbing your positions to board the train. You take a few steps looking back.

“Write to me! Please!” Your mom shouted toward you, her smile strong yet a tear dropping down her cheek. You blew her a kiss and nodded. You looked forward to following the small line of students through the train looking for any open seats. Unluckily for you, most compartments were full to the brim. Students you���ve never spoken to looked at you, some in awe, some in disdain. You shoved your bag over your shoulder and kept walking with your chin proudly. 

You looked into a compartment immediately making eye contact with the group you dreaded the most, you turned and rolled your eyes but it was too late. 

“OY! Look at the gryffindor rascal now” Draco started standing from his seat. “Looks like you got hit with some metal to the face. Was any of that intentional?” He started, his goons laughing. The students waiting around all turned tuning in to the scene enveloping. You tried to look forward ignoring him but the line of students wouldn’t budge. You were stuck like an animal in a zoo, all of these eyes bouncing between you and Malfoy. 

“I'd never. Not that you were particularly pretty before, but this really didn’t help your case.” Pansy quipped. Not that you didn’t expect the backlash, especially from the prissy bitch herself, but hearing it was enough to make your blood boil. Over the summer you didn’t just get piercings, but you grew a few inches, your body stronger from quidditch practice. You felt more confident in your personal appearance but also your ability to stand up for yourself. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t fight Pansy.” You turn eyeing her down. Over the years you have gotten absolutely sick of the entire slytherin house. For a group of students who were seen as the gloomy emo one, boy did they hate any sense of alternative fashion. 

The compartment hushed quickly. Your height towering over her body still sitting on the boothed chair. You could feel the anger rising in you, your hands balling into fists. You had no intent of using your wand, just imagining the idea of lashing out fist-to-cuffs.

You felt students moving ahead of you forcefully to let someone through but you were too focused on the movements of Draco. You could feel the seconds slow as Draco took a step forward, his face red, brows furrowed. His hand slipped into his pocket gripping his wand. Just before he had the chance to pull it out, both of you turned to see who was coming down the aisle, ready to stop if a professor arrived. 

“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Harry appeared next to you, his hand wrapping around your wrist pulling you forward both forcing you out of your anger and the situation. You were being pulled through the students; bumping into everyone you passed. He moved with vigor but not looking back at you, focused on only what was in front of him. You felt your shoulders relax the longer it took to get to his compartment. The crowd dispersed and he found a place to slow down. 

“Harry sorry i know my emotions got the best-“ You started. He turned around still holding your wrist.

”I heard what they said. I don't blame you.” He said softly. “A physical fight is not the best way to start the year.” He smiled looking over your face, his face morphing with curiosity as he noticed your new facial jewelry. 

“Wow” He said breathlessly. You looked back at him wide eyed, not sure if he liked them or not. Moments passed and you weren’t sure he had ever looked at you this long before, your cheeks slowly turning pink. You noticed how your heights now matched, now eye to eye. You swear he glanced at your lips several times but you were still high on adrenaline from before.. right?

“It’s amazing.” He finished. His eyebrows furrowed as he pointed just above your eye. “How bad did those hurt? I can't even imagine.” He laughed quietly rubbing his eyebrows where your piercings sit. You chuckled lightly.

”Only a pinch I promise. Maybe I’ll do yours sometime this school year.” You joked seeing his face seethed dramatically, imagining the pain. 

“Maybe you can convince Ron, not me.” He laughed, opening the compartment ushering you in.  Hermione jumped greeting you with a hug. 

”y/n!” Her arms were so tight around your torso squeezing you as tightly as she could. 

“Now those are wicked.” Ron exasperated, pointing quickly close to your nose, your gauged septum hanging from your nostrils. 

“Don't pick my nose weasley, so help me.” You joked, Hermione pulling away from her hug. You all sat together talking about your piercings for a few minutes before the conversation moved away to the beginning of the school year. You missed them, happy that you were back to normalcy. All of you shared chocolate frogs and talked about the ministry. You were all just teenagers but the conversation was serious and daunting.

You caught Harry’s gaze a few times. You shook it off thinking he was just looking at your piercings, but he was more interested in how it fit your features so naturally. He didn’t know of anyone with such adornments but he was so infatuated with how more comfortable you seemed with these pieces of self expression. You reminded him of something, or someone but he couldnt put his finger on it. It took him the whole train ride as he wracked his own brain, distracted from the conversations you Ron and Hermione continued. 

The train came to a halt and it felt like a light went off in Harry's brain. He looked over to you, laughing at something Ron just said but all he could think about was how much you reminded him of Sirius. He felt his heart race and his breath shallow. He could feel himself staring at you, seeing him in your mannerisms and the way your hair fell. You were strong, didn’t back down from a fight, and never hid your true feelings or artistic expressions. You were different but so similar it made his heart ache. You broke him from his trance standing up. 

“Let’s go, Harry. We’ve made it.” You smiled over to him from the doorway, waiting for him to join you. Ron and Hermione were already long gone down the train and it was just you two. He didn’t realize how much time had passed, his attention stuck in his own thoughts. He got up, a little hesitant but smiled effectively as he met you outside the compartment. You two walked off the train quietly just enjoying the scenery and silence. You cleared your throat still feeling like his mind was somewhere else. It worried you. 

“You doing okay over there Potter?” You asked, chuckling lightly. You walked shoulder to shoulder down the pathway towards the carriages. 

“Yeah sorry.  My mind is just.. elsewhere.” He mumbled looking over at you. You made him nervous and he wasn't sure why. You have been friends for years, since the beginning. He always wanted to keep it a friendship between you two, afraid of losing you or ruining it if you didn’t feel the same. He loved the quartet between Ron and Hermione. Everyone balanced each other and it killed him to think you'd leave because of his feelings. It overwhelmed him to silence now that it was so clear. He absolutely loved you. 

You two got to the carriages that take you to the school, Professor Flitwick waiting for you both. 

“Hurry now you must be the last ones!” His hands ruffled some papers looking dramatically. “Names?” He coughed looking up at you both.

”Professor, you can't be serious.” Harry said, looking between you and Flitwick. 

“No exceptions Potter!” He sternly replied, his shoulder slumped realizing his mistake. You laughed, pulling Harry ahead to climb the stairs to the carriage. After a moment you looked across at Harry. 

“You can tell me anything you know.” You mumbled, a second attempt to get him to open up to you. Something was clearly bothering him. You notice him shift in his seat nervously, his hands entwined with his own tightly.

”I know y/n/n. I just don't want to lose.. all this.” He gestured vaguely around. You shook your head and laughed slightly not understanding. 

“Listen, if it's about you-know-who we are doing everything we can.” You said looking around. “We're safe here. For now at least.” You smiled at him, reaching across, resting your hand on his knee. His breath hitched as you touched him. 

“It's not about the school.” He whispered his hands unraveling from themselves. You could see how his demeanor changed. The way he avoided looking at you. You moved and sat next to him, your hand still resting on his knee. 

“Harry. Please.” You whispered leaning in. You cared so deeply for this boy, the look on his face was something new. He has been afraid of the impending war but he was strong, stoic, and almost impervious to the dangers he faced each year. This was more subtle, more emotional. He turned to face you, his hand resting on top of yours now. 

“I don't want to lose you.” His voice was low but it hit you like knives. He was still heartbroken by the loss of Sirius just months ago, losing someone so close to him made him more aware of the implications of those around him fighting his fight for him. You reminded him so deeply of him, terrified of the fate of you now that you were so close to him. He didn’t know what was worse, not taking the chance to spend the time with you, or losing you later never being truthful with his feelings. 

If as the world stopped, he grabbed your face kissing you softly. You were taken back by the gesture, soon melting into his arms. Your hand moving from his knee to his waist, grabbing his robes. As the carriage bounced you both held each other, kissing deeper but slowly. It was clumsy and heated. His hands held your face steady as both of your bodies bounced from the rough roads. His glasses hit your cheeks as you tilted your head, trying to not break from the kiss. You’d do anything to make the carriage stop in the woods, leaving just you two alone for as long as possible. 

You dreamt of this moment, day and night, the possibility of holding his hand. Being there for him in more ways than just friendly. You’d do anything for him, to ease his pain, to listen to his stories, to hear his laugh. Every feeling of admiration and yearning rushed through you as the kiss slowed to an end. Nervous to look into his eyes, blushing deeply you kept your hands on his waist.  He leaned back rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip, his hands still cupping your hands. 

Harry did not speak. In between a state of shock and disbelief in his own actions. Half of him wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what just happened, but the other half wanted to take the secret with him to the grave. For just this moment it was only you two. Your lips both still wet from the kiss, smiling shyly at each other. You both waited for each other to be the first to speak. You looked down and grabbed his hand, your fingers trembling slightly. You leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you silently holding each other as you made it to the castle. 

A whirlwind of emotions the past few hours have been, what could happen the rest of the year?

[jules-ln]

Ok you guys I went to sleep at 1 am and woke up at fucking 5 am to watch arcane so here are my thoughts/review:

After I finished it, first of all, I was mad lmao, then I thought about it for a moment and I started crying, but like ugly crying with sobs and everything because holy shit Jayce and Viktor, then I stopped crying, thought about it a bit more, and I got mad Again lmao

Now spoilers

It was a fucking mess lmao

Like seriously what the fuck fortiche, what the fuck Riot, it was such a fucking mess, it was all over the place, the story was rushed, the characters arcs were rushed, there was a lot of things that felt very forced because they didn't have time to let it happen naturally and I can tell a lot of things that would've been good were left in the inkpot

About Cait and Vi: I truly and honestly couldn't have care less about them lmao

I know I know

But I already fucking knew they were going to end up together that Vi was going to forgive Cait for being a fascist etc etc, for me their arc was already finished and I didn't have time to care about them because I was more worried about what the heck would happen to the other characters and how in hell would they wrap up that mess. If they would've cut all their scenes and gave that time to Mel or something, I would've been so fucking happy

Also, the sex scene annoyed me so much lmao, I was thinking "IF YOU WANTED A SEX SCENE YOU SHOULD'VE ADDED ANOTHER SEASON FORTICHE! WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THAT NOW!" lmao

Mel: I liked the concept of her arc, I like the theory, I can see their vision, what they were going for

But in reality it wasn't fucking that

Like, I like the idea of having Mel realize that she was much more than the daughter of her mother, that she had her own value for who she was instead of simply being the blood in her veins. But boy, it didn't feel at all like she realized that lmao

It just felt like she was "now I'm confident enough about myself to confront my mother because the writers said so" like what? This is what I mean when I say that a lot of things felt forced

Viktor: ok, ok I'm just like *heavy sigh*

To be honest part of why I was mad at first was Viktor's character, I was like "So what? You stop being a humanity loving pacifist to become a fucking control freak who hates free will and emotions just like that?" But then I thought about it, and if you frame his arc through Jayce, it actually made sense, because you see, everything he did was for Jayce. When he came back and went to build his cult, I mean, Commune, he was doing their hextech dream, the thing they always wanted, the thing Jayce always wanted

When Jayce went and rejected him by shooting him in the chest (thanks Jayce) he was hurt, he lashed out and wanted to get rid of all emotions, ironically it was a very emotional reaction. So then as soon as Jayce was back with him, he realized his mistake and stopped

So yeah, it makes sense, the problem is that I shouldn't have to stop and piece together a character motivation like that Fortiche what the hell. I know some people say "let the audience do some work!" But I feel like I'm doing all the fucking work here

What they did was great! Good! But just like Mel, give it more fucking time please

And the machine herald design was a bit ugly lmao, like his design in the game looks better, but thinking about it, and looking at the other robots design and how Viktor dresses in the series. I think it makes sense that this specific Viktor would design something like that

EDIT: Oh! I Also forgot to add:

My favorite scene of him was when Jayce was taking out all of those things one by one and Viktor waited until he was done to push them all back LMAO he didn't need to do that

Jayce:

Jayce, what the hell

Like, I understand why Viktor acted like he did, but like, what was up with you?

I mean, the end implied that he knew all along what was going to happen (machine herald, save Viktor etc), but like, why did he acted so angry at the commune then? He seemed so erratic and Angry like he didn't know what was going to happen, but he knew, and then he switched back to normal but like, what was up with all of what happened before? If anything, why didn't just he let Viktor get to the hexgate peacefully and then talk to him? Idk, it just seems to me like Jayce was the character the most affected by the crossfire of the plot happening because the writers had a very specific ending in mind and no time to get to that ending naturally

Also "hextech is bad" Then proceeds to let everyone keep using it lmao

Ambessa and Singed: of all the characters I think these one were the worst of all lmao

Like the plot completely changed Jayce and forced Mel, but like, these two just were put aside? Lmao

Everyone at Fortiche was like "Fuck Ambessa and Fuck Singed" which is a shame because these two were really interesting

Ekko and Jinx:

I think of all the other characters, these two were the best ones

I didn't feel like their arc was forced, it felt like they were given enough time, but you know why? Because their arc started in season 1, in this season they just finished it

The only thing I will complain about is Isha, because it just feels like they used her and completely discarded her after like a broken toy. Like Silco was waaay better handled than her

Heimmerdinger: I mean, I didn't care much about him lmao, he was only there because the plot needed him, and when he wasn't necessary anymore they got rid of him lmao

But it was less obvious than Isha at least

Viktor and Jayce: now, this is the part that got me fucking crying so much, and this along with Ekko and Jinx are the things that make me feel conflicted about this ending and not hate it as much as I would otherwise

It was all left ambiguous, and the cynical part of me thinks "of course they can't make it any more obvious because then the dude bros who main Viktor and Jayce in LoL are going to cry about how they don't want to play as a man who wants to kiss another man"

But if I take it at face value... Ngl guys, it was good

Like how Jayce chose Viktor after everything he did, how Viktor tried to push Jayce away to protect him but Jayce refused to leave, how all they wanted wasn't progress, or fame or power, but simply be together. And they got to be together in the end

Damn, I'm crying again

I JUST FUCKING WISH EVERYTHING AROUND IT WASN'T A MESS!

And I wanted to add, when everyone in Zaun went to help everyone in Piltover to deal with Ambessa, I wouldn't have done that, fuck them, they put a fucking fascist dictator on power, probably made a lot of people "dissappear" and just like that they are like "Guys, we're sorry, we need your help now :(" fuck that

In the end, it doesn't feel like Fortiche earned this ending. Season 2 should've ended with Arc 2, and Arc 3 should've been a whole season

And I can't give it a rating, because I don't know, I didn't like a lot of it, but there were some parts that I really fucking loved

But if someone asked me if it was worth to give the series a try, I would say yes, but don't get your hopes up for the ending lmao

[leaderpinhead]

Ace - Overachiever Syndrome

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial current prompt.

“You know this paper is only five hundred words, right?” 

The stack of books landed on the table with a heavy thud. Someone from across the library loudly shushed them for the noise. Ace ignored the shusher, as did everyone else, and groaned when Yuu opened the first book in the stack. “You’re not even gonna be able to read that before our next history of magic class!” 

“I’m done!” Grim exclaimed, earning them another “Sssshhhhussshhh!” Grim proudly held up his paper. “Trein’s gonna give me a gold star when he sees this!” 

Deuce leaned across the table and squinted at Grim’s wobbly handwriting. “The...Queendom...of...Roses...is...gi..gib?” 

Ace snorted on a laugh. “Those first-grade reading lessons are finally paying off.” 

Deuce’s cheeks turned red. “It’s not my reading that’s the problem! Grim’s handwriting is barely legible.” 

“What d’ya mean you can’t read my handwriting?” Grim flattened the paper on the table. His paw perfectly fit the inked paw print he had left behind on the bottom corner of the paper. “It’s perfectly readable!” 

“You misspelled big! The b is at the beginning.” 

“That is a b! You just can’t read!” 

While Deuce and Grim argued—the shusher interrupting with a few shushes—Yuu flipped through the thick textbook. Ace rolled his eyes and started balancing his pencil on the tip of his nose. “Are you seriously about to do a binge study session? We’ve got homework in three other classes to do 

“I’m glad you’re taking our assignments seriously,” Yuu said. She kept flipping through the book. Her speed would have impressed someone like Deuce, but Ace knew better. She wasn’t some super-genius with a photo memory who could skim a whole textbook in fifty seconds and retain everything. She was looking at all the pictures at the most. “So you understand why it’s important I do research for this assignment.” 

Ace groaned and let his pencil roll off his nose to bounce on the table. “Doesn’t that defeat the whole point though? Trein said the paper was to assess what we already know about the Queendom of Roses.” 

“That’s easy for someone like you who grew up in the Queendom of Roses,” Yuu countered. She was about halfway through the textbook now, and she paused on a photograph taking up one whole page. “Unlike you, I didn’t grow up in Twisted Wonderland. So how am I supposed to write five hundred words about a place I don’t know?” 

“Easy.” Ace twirled his pencil through his fingers and grinned. “Just write I don’t know anything five hundred times.” 

Yuu crumbled a piece of paper for the single purpose of throwing it at Ace’s head. “I think I'm going to do it my way, smartass.” 

Ace batted away the paper ball. “Suit yourself.” He pointed at the stack of books she had collected. “You know there’s, like, fifty books in that series, right?” 

Yuu’s eyes widened. “Fifty? Are you sure?” 

Ace nodded. “Yeah. War in the Queendom of Roses, right? It’s way popular in the Queendom of Roses even outside of school. Riddle quotes it at least once a day.” 

“Fifty,” Yuu repeated, her voice soft like she didn’t even realize she spoke aloud. She didn’t react to Grim flying across the table to tackle Deuce in the face. “I only saw these books on the shelves...” 

Ace shrugged. “Maybe the librarian put the other books in different sections. Not all of them are about history. One of them is a straight-up cookbook. Trey’s got that one in Heartslabyul’s kitchen.” 

Yuu stood from her chair. Her eyes shone with a new determination. “I need to find those books.” 

“You need to write your paper, so we can get out of here!” 

“I can’t understand the Queendom of Roses without those books.” 

“Do you not know how convoluted the history of the Queendom of Roses is? Riddle can’t even give you a timeline that’s 100% accurate!” 

Yuu punched the palm of her hand. “I’ll start with the Queendom of Roses and then move on to the history of the countries in the Shaftlands.” 

“We’re not even supposed to start on the Shaftlands until next semester!” 

Yuu completely ignored him and disappeared into the bookshelves. Ace groaned and slouched into his chair. “Man! If I had wanted a Riddle-study-session, I would’ve just gone to the dorm.” 

Deuce and Grim ignored him too, the two of them loudly wrestling on the floor. Whoever had been shushing them had given up, and Ace had the sneaking suspicion the librarian would soon be around to kick them out. He threw the paper ball at the back of Grim’s head just to be sure the librarian had a strong enough reason to kick them out. 

It took Yuu getting into a loud argument with a Scarabia student over War in the Queendom of Roses Vol. XLII for the librarian to finally expel them. The next morning, Yuu turned in a thick stack of papers for her assignment. When Trein only stared at the stack, Yuu shrugged. “The instructions were to write at least five hundred words.” 

Trein was very strict about the length of the rest of the assignments he gave them. 

[david-blackthorn]

I havnt read those books in the shadowhunter chronicles yet, what are your favorite things about them? (Im curious whether I should read them or not since I have such a big tbr already)

Oh maaan you're in for a ride

I have no idea which series in the Shadowhunter Universe you meant exactly but i'll start with my fav

Part I:

The Dark Artifices:

Do you ever feel like your soul needs a good mix of romantic pining, chaotic battles, and emotional devastation? The Dark Artifices is calling your name.

But seriously if you love stories that combine heart-pounding action, deep family bonds, and characters so real you’ll find yourself thinking about them long after you've finished the books? This is the series for you!

This series follows a family of Shadowhunters in sunny Los Angeles (yes, there are beaches AND demon fights) as they deal with forbidden love, ancient laws that make no sense, and plot twists that will leave you staring at the ceiling at 3 AM like: what just happened.

It’s got:

Two people who can’t be together because of reasons but have enough chemistry to destroy you.

A goofy warlock with more secrets than anyone is ready for.

A soft boy who paints and probably writes poetry but will absolutely murder you if you hurt his siblings and childhood friend.

A broody faerie loner who says “I work alone” but would probably die for his friends.

“I would die for my siblings, but also, they’re so annoying” energy.

Found-family dynamics that will have you texting your friends, “DO YOU SEE THIS?”

And, of course, the *painful but addictive* mix of love, loyalty, and chaos...

Enemies-to-lovers? No, wait—friends-to-lovers? Actually, it’s more like "reluctantly obsessed but too emotionally constipated to say it."

Three people staring dramatically at each other like ‘Is this polyamory or a REALLY complicated love triangle?

Characters who will make you scream, “JUST COMMUNICATE,” but you’ll love them anyway.

Enough family angst to fuel a therapy session for years.

A genius, autistic boy who solves mysteries but can’t solve the mystery of his own feelings

Main characters? Let’s just say there’s a parabatai bond that’s more complicated than your high school crush.

The plot? Fast-paced, full of betrayal, and packed with vicious fight scenes.

The family? Everything is fine...except when it’s not.

The romance? You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll probably scream and definitely ship things that should not be shipped. :)

Basically a murder mystery, faerie politics, and the most relatable struggle of all: Trying to keep your family alive and well while the world is falling apart.

Fair warning: you’ll never emotionally recover (and you’ll love every second).

part II:

The Mortal Instruments:

If you’re looking for a fast-paced urban fantasy series full of adventure, humor, and heart, you need to pick up The Mortal Instruments.

It’s got everything: shadowy secrets, epic battles, forbidden love, and enough twists and turns to keep you hooked from start to finish. Plus, the friendships and family bonds will hit you right in the feels.

If you like:

Hot people with emotional trauma

Family dynamics so messy even you would say "y’all need therapy"

Enemies-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-allies-to-love(maybe) but make it *gay*

Bonus gay dads with actual functional communication (because someone has to balance the chaos)

A love triangle that's not technically a triangle, but don't worry, it'll still destroy your soul

If you do then babe, let me introduce you to The Mortal Instruments:

It’s like Twilight, but everyone fights better is hotter and has sarcasm set to ✨maximum damage✨.

You'll question the characters' life choices, then realize your own aren’t much better.

There’s an overachieving golden boy with a superiority complex who definitely Googles his own name but is secretly baby.

A girl who just wants to vibe and maybe not be surrounded by apocalypses, but alas.

A cinnamon roll nerd who says, “I don’t want to be here,” but somehow ends up saving the day every time.

And a guy who walks in like: "I’m too goth for this mess," but then adopts everyone and pays for dinner.

The Mortal Instruments is what happens when an ex fanfic writer starts a writing carrier and makes a book series: chaotic, emotional, weirdly self-aware, and packed with heart. Read it. Your inner emo kid will thank you.

Bonus:

The plot? Like Supernatural on speed.

The dialogue? Whedon-esque but with more sass per square inch.

The drama? Every fanfic writer wishes they wrote this level of ✨chaotic bisexual disaster energy✨.

If this sounds appealing, congratulations! This series was literally written for you.

part III:

The Infernal Devices:

The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare is an absolute gem of a series, blending romance, adventure, and a touch of Victorian-era steampunk. If you love books with unforgettable characters, heart-wrenching love triangles (in the best way), and a beautifully atmospheric setting, this is the series for you.

It’s full of witty banter, emotional depth, and a story that stays with you long after you turn the last page. Trust me—there’s no ‘right’ team to root for, but you’ll love every moment of trying to decide.

The plot? Wild.

The romance? Devastating.

The side characters? Hot, chaotic, and probably more interesting than the main ones in most other books you’ve read.

Let’s not forget:

The Victorian Aesthetic™ (it’s giving Pinterest board).

A robot army that would make Skynet say, “You okay, bro?”

Poetry recitals that feel like life-or-death declarations.

And more tragic backstories than a Shakespearean play.

It's got:

a steampunk version of London where demons and shadowhunters roam the cobblestone streets, and your biggest problem isn’t the fog, but the ✨existential dread✨.

There’s a protagonist who just wanted to read books but accidentally became the center of everyone’s emotional drama (relatable queen).

A golden retriever boy who’s so perfect it physically hurts and is slowly dying.

And a sad boy™️ who looks like he stepped straight out of a My Chemical Romance album, only with a reading obsession.

A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Friendships so deep they’ll make you scream, “WHY CAN’T THE WORLD LET THEM BE HAPPY?”

A heroine who’s like, ‘Do I choose the guy who might secretly hate himself more than anyone else alive, or the literal angel in human form?’ (Spoiler: she chooses both. Iconic.)

Brooding boys who quote poetry in life-or-death situations (because of course they do).

*A love triangle where instead of fighting, the two love interests are like, ‘Hey, what if we all just loved each other?’

Start with Clockwork Angel and get ready to laugh, cry, and ugly sob over Will, Jem, and Tessa. But be warned: this series will RUIN you in the most beautiful way possible.

I won't write a summary of The Last Hours since i haven't finished it yet sorry babes, but hope you liked these *mwa*

[violetmuses]

Curtain - R. Reigns 🖤

Title: Curtain - R. Reigns 🖤

Fandom: WWE

Character: Roman Reigns

Pairing: Roman Reigns + Production!Reader

Main Storyline: Someone has a crush behind the scenes.

@expert-texpert @persethegawd @episodes-ff @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @msbigredmachine @trippinsorrows @babybratzmaraj 🏷

=====

2012

“Joe?” Someone had knocked on the private door this evening.

Joseph Anoa'i stood near one decent mirror and personally styled his dark yet long hair now.

Clearing his throat for a second, Joseph finished adjusting that hair and walked shirtless, pairing shorts with black shoes to answer the door.

“Yes, Ma'am?” Offering kindness, Joe wouldn't pull his character yet and smiled when you stood wearing this headset for the production team.

“I'll join our camera crew, but I wanted to show my face before we start rolling.” You grinned and nodded, keeping Joseph aware before the match.

“No problem. It's nice to meet you.” Joe understood pleasantries, but his heart started to race.

Even while you dressed to handle work backstage, Joseph almost turned flabbergasted.

You're so pretty, it's unfair.

“See you out there.” Leaving that door open, you gave Joseph his last few minutes alone before the match started.

Soon enough, monster Roman Reigns would burn this place to the ground.

****

Defeating opponent CJ Parker, Joseph Anoa'i channeled his dangerous persona and quickly shook the world beyond NXT, encouraging noise.

When Roman inked that main roster beside Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins, you helped large-scale cameras with the biggest smile on your own face.

The Shield was born.

_____

As “wreckage” plummeted the Survivor Series event, you found Joseph in person and grinned while this cleaning staff hustled.

“Congratulations.” You genuinely respected this man.

“Thank you.” Wearing black and sporting new pants to replace shorts, Joseph nearly towered beyond height when compared with your stance.

Uh-oh. Joe realized.

Whenever facing you, butterflies almost swarmed his stomach like the movies.

Before this man could speak again, security arrived to escort teams home.

“Take care.” You bid farewell and Joseph watched your footsteps leave the tunnel, already protective.

Damn.

*****

While big-time events continue hitting the famous schedule, every single wrestler kept fighting various opponents throughout televised chaos.

Even interviews became different.

One night, SHIELD gathered for this post-match conference with media platforms and the Reigns character pulled back up, showing off an attitude.

“Catch my good side.” His strong voice would settle anger and everyone laughed when your camera zoomed toward his own face.

“In all seriousness, I just wanna thank everyone for welcoming our squad near the WWE family. Good night and stay safe, y'all.” Joseph returned and broke the fourth wall to meet reality again.

Finding your presence, Joe winked after leaving the press table and moved forward, yet those invisible butterflies would rattle once more.

“You're bold.” You nearly whispered, but Joseph caught on and walked toward the camera.

“Let somebody else film until we leave.” Joseph answered this time.

“Okay. Is something wrong?” You squinted, definitely concerned.

“No, but we should talk in private.” Joseph no longer pulled the character idea.

“All right.” You agreed, led down the corridor near dressing rooms for this program.

_____

“Whatever you need, I'll do it.” Joseph attempted to explain himself without saying too much.

“I appreciate your respect.” You understood his generosity.

“Thank you for everything.” Joseph moved away, before you could respond, but your mind stood puzzled now.

What happened?

=====

2014

Two years later, everything changed.

With SHIELD now lying dead in the name of cinematic betrayal, WWE started to promote Roman Reigns as a solo act for the first time.

Despite facing changes, you would stand right there and keep composure while millions of disappointed fans still loathed this outright turn of events.

Meanwhile, Joe still looked out for you.

*****

Before his match against Mark Henry would take place, Roman knocked in full costume, but smiled off camera.

“Don't I look good?” His strong voice nearly flirted as footsteps marched closer to you.

“Yeah.” You almost giggled, excited to witness the broadcast. “Now, get out there. Everyone's screaming through the walls already.”

“Yes, Ma'am.” Biting his lip, Ro smoothed back perfectly long hair and turned down that hall, ready for war.

*****

“Welcome back. We are here broadcasting live for Monday Night Raw! Roman Reigns has readjusted his momentum and will now stalk legend Mark Henry.” Pundits described updates following one of the commercial breaks.

“Hold on. What's this? Oh my! Reigns bolted forward and locked down this hefty spear maneuver to defeat the world's strongest man right now!” Announcers kicked up shock while fans lost their minds.

“I did that. Me!” Reigns nearly sprinted to your camera and showed out while celebrating this victory. Even footage began to shake up.

This is my job? Awesome! You couldn't help smiling regardless.

Ooh-wa!

______

In the tunnel, Joe dashed beyond his adrenaline and lifted your weight out of nowhere, then spinning this joyful moment round and round.

Even when your stance reached this floor again, Joe stepped back and offered distance.

“Sorry. I'm still excited now.” While Joseph glanced down to meet your eyes, his Southern accent pulled forward.

“It's all right, that was fun.” You smiled and his heart flipped again.

Good Lord. Joseph thought.

Right before Joe would talk again, your work phone rang and its noise echoed in the tunnel.

I'll go.” Joseph pointed backwards and planned to exit with security guards.

You nodded before picking up the call and your voice still lingered when Joe began to leave.

“Hello? Colby, what's wrong?” You greeted wrestler Seth Rollins by his real name, Colby Lopez. “Flat tire? Shame. I'll contact someone right now.”

Watching frustration reach your eyes, Joseph stood with guards while other professionals helped, moving to the lot found outdoors.

_____

Waiting in this dressing room just in case, Joseph stood up immediately when you knocked on the door again.

“All set.” You offered the update. “Everyone should be good to go with transportation and security’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” Joseph didn't even think about personnel, but excused himself anyway, grateful as you joined the parking lot to depart.

Everyone is safe, especially you.

*****

As time moved along, Ro would take charge beyond words.

“I'm not talkin’ to Renee. Look at me.” Roman locked down brutal eye contact with your camera and the fans whistled, seeking his next move.

“Woo!” Spectators encouraged Reigns more and more.

“You're not slick here. Stop flirting before I do something too hot for TV.” Reigns bit his lip and stepped right back.

Even commentators laughed before the program ended.

Your thoughts know exactly what Roman meant tonight.

Before filming, you dressed in black for work as usual, but the outfit teased your curves without pushing boundaries regarding this important job.

Off camera, Joseph nearly couldn't stand your presence this time. Even as you clicked heels in all directions, his firing glare would keep its torch.

“Where are you going?” Joseph peeked around the corner later and noticed you, trailing your footsteps near his dressing room.

“Ah - Put me down, Joe!” Yet, he caught up just in time and carried you over his shoulder, stomping in the tunnel when your laughter nearly howled.

Happy birthday to me! You thought.

His silly behavior lasted all night and this special card waited.

Boss,

Best wishes to my favorite camera expert. 🫂

Always,

-Big Dog 🐾

====

2017

Years would leave calendars once more and you secured different experiences many times, still working with that famous company nowadays.

But when The Undertaker loomed between shadows for “Wrestlemania,” you made popcorn and gathered everyone, just awaiting madness.

Ouch. Each passing strike crossed Big Dog as an icon marked danger.

Dueling back and forth, each competitor slammed this movie in real time.

“Watch this.” Grabbing this chair, Ro acknowledged your main camera and threw down the tough prop with all of his might, fighting back.

“No!” Thousands of people would shout with disbelief.

“Stay down, this is my yard!” Roman barked at The Deadman and knocked out one last spear to beat this legendary monster.

“Roman Reigns has defeated The Undertaker at Wrestlemania!” Announcers revealed that impossible finale as Deadman centered this ring.

_____

“Are you serious?” You still couldn't believe what happened.

Joe stuck out his tongue and left with security guards, never answering.

When you jokingly casted both eyes toward the ceiling, your coworkers just laughed beyond this special venue to leave another spectacle marked.

Ro still took care of business.

*****

Months later, John Cena would line up for the “No Mercy” event.

“I've heard rumors about the cameras. What's going on, Roman?” Cena walked forward in this ring.

“Don't start. Wanna get your ass beat?” Ro shook his head and defended you in silence.

“There it is.” Cena caught how venom struck Roman's glare and the crowd watched in shock.

“I will knock you out right now. Just keep talking, John!” Ro paced back and forth, heating jealousy to fuel the match this evening.

“Make a move, Big Dog! Somebody else could get her phone number.” Cena struck one more comment right before this duel would kick off.

Ding, ding, ding!

The massive audience erupted throughout another venue. Even Roman headlocked Cena first and quickly started the battle right now.

“C'mon! Get him, Ro.” Even when Reign failed different maneuvers, you kept shouting behind the camera.

“I got it.” His Southern accent pulled beyond the rasping voice just before Roman knocked out victory again!

“Oh my goodness. What an incredible match tonight! Ladies and gentlemen, The Big Dog Roman Reigns just took down John Cena.”

****

For the first time since crossing the NXT match, Joseph whispered to you in private and held hands while walking right through this tunnel.

"Too much?” He offered kindness to help you feel comfortable.

“No.” You welcomed his gesture, but paused near the dressing room.

“Oh, right.” Joseph realized the point of you stepping back and cleared his throat for a second.

“See you next time.” Your heels clicked once more, but Joseph couldn't help answering differently.

“Baby…” Sighing, Joe slipped that nickname for you and no longer kept up with his Roman Reigns persona.

Turning around, you looked up to face his nearly pleading stare.

“What's going on, Joe?” You offered this burning question.

Peering down beyond towered height, Joseph bit his lip and moved closer, fading proximity for you b

“I want…” His strong voice revealed genuine truth here.

Your breath hitched while his power nearly shook up thoughts. Tempting lips almost met inches away.

Before you'd consider this point of no return, sother voices interrupted.

“Time to go, everyone!” An announcement signaled the building for departure.

Pulling together several emotions, you know much better and stepped away from Joseph, leaving this place like nothing happened.

====

The Announcement - October 22, 2018

“My real name is Joe and I've battled leukemia for the past eleven years.” Joseph Anoa'i revealed his personal medical condition to the world.

Backstage, loved ones arrived to give l and offered support before Joseph would begin his lifesaving treatment.

You nearly sobbed alongside Paul Heyman, unable to smile past true feelings. The spectacle of WWE no longer made a difference tonight.

“Hey.” Joseph opened both arms to hug you despite everything.

The embrace nearly squeezed beyond comprehension, but you didn't even care.

“You got this, okay? If you need anything, let me know. Take care, all right?” You sniffled through remarks and still faced him.

“Thank you. God bless.” Joseph's kindness never wavered and you watched him leave to fight such an unbelievable illness.

=====

The Return - February 25, 2019

“I'm in remission, y'all.” Everyone cheered when Joseph returned to WWE and revealed the most amazing news.

Once Colby Lopez, also known as Seth Rollins, welcomed back Joseph another voice, while echoed throughout the large-scale space.

“What's up, Big Dog?” Spotlights beamed as your favorite color changed the show.

That unexpected greeting crossed lively music while the audience sent this night into a frenzy and Joseph couldn't help looking for you.

Even working behind the scenes, your own legend stood high among this WWE platform.

Within seconds, this entire space darkened and one effect with clicking heels reminded Joe of countless memories. Fans only wailed louder.

Another light revealed your silhouette and when this room brightened, cheering almost shook when you stood across from Joseph in person.

“Thank you so much. Thank you!” Emotions ran high no matter what as Joe whispered on camera.

“Welcome back, I'm so proud of you.” Your tears reached smiles this time.

“Baby Girl, you have no idea how much that means to me. Thank you.” Joseph held your hand in the most subtle manner despite footage.

The overjoyed crowd screamed beyond words to kick off another broadcast while Joseph looped his arm around your shoulder, reunited for good.

=====

2022

“Careful, Sweetheart. Don't forget who's in charge here. Huh? Ten years with your pretty self. You know I'm right.” Even while fighting opponents, his matured yet classic voice still offered habits for you during trash talk.

Complying, you nodded behind the camera and smiled, accepting his chances to flirt again.

“Locked the vice grip around this guy.” Roman continued battling someone and you caught on.

“You haven't met my clutch.” You snuck this opportunity right back.

“What did you just say?” His Southern accent pulled even further regardless of the match.

“You heard me, Ro.” Your next comment shortened his ring nickname as Roman scored this victory on purpose.

****

“Get back here! Stop running.” Joseph Anoa'i finally won you over.

Nearly chasing your steps down that tunnel this time, Joseph no longer held back and felt spurred by your laughter. The sound just echoed again.

No better feeling in the world.

“Look.” Setting your bum on top of this private table in his dressing room, Joseph lifted your chin and knelt between your legs.

“Yes?” Your gaze would still offer undivided attention.

“If you'll have me, I love you.” His rough tone settled down with this confession.

At long last, you looked down and his lips met yours for the very first time.

[boldlyanxious]

Unkidnapped

Luka looked nervous. He never looked nervous; he was always cool as a cucumber. Until now. Marinette had ended up in a lot of unusual situations and he always knew exactly what to do. Unfortunately what he did was take the surviving coffee out of her hands and gulped it down before turning back to her.

“Start at the beginning and tell me how we got to this,” he said.

He looked swiftly back at the car she had driven up in when a thumping noise drew his attention.

“I was just getting coffee for us,” Marinette said.

She reached out for the coffee as Luka stepped away from her and tipped the cup back all the way and drank until it was clearly empty. He handed the empty cup back to her and she batted at it knocking it out of his hand. He glanced back at the car again as it thumped.

“You have got to stop starting stories that way. It is becoming a habit. Can’t you ever just get coffee and come back without a major problem?”

Marinette huffed, “It isn’t a major problem.”

“Then, tell me how you ended up with a car you don’t own that hopefully doesn’t have a person locked in the trunk.”

—

It was way too sunny, but Marinette braved it in order to get to the coffee shop. She would definitely need the caffeine to make it through all her work tonight. She already made her schedule fit her preference for sleeping late and tendency to be hit with inspiration at night. But tonight she was determined to finish all the outfits for Jagged’s big show in Gotham where Luka would join him for the rest of the tour. The show wasn’t for a few days but she wanted to have time for anything that might go wrong, even if it meant staying up all night.

It didn’t feel like anything could go wrong when the guy she had noticed ahead of her turned and smiled at her as he grabbed his coffee. It could just be friendly, but it had felt like more. She was more anxious for the coffees to be finished now. She rushed through a “thanks” and nearly sloshed the coffee in her rush to catch up with the man. She hadn’t even heard his name when it was called so she had nothing else to go on. She was planning on staying in Gotham for a while so it would be great to meet people.

His cup flung at the door when she was stepping outside. She jumped to the side to avoid the splash. She barely had time to avoid it past the glare of the sun. The reason for the coffee being thrown was obvious when she looked back at the trajectory. Two men were shoving the man from the shop into the trunk of the car while a third one jumped out of the driver’s seat and started hitting him to get him in. It took a few blows, but they managed to zip tie his hands and one reached to close the trunk while the driver got in a couple more hits.

Marinette froze for a second, unsure of what to do, but knowing she needed to do something. She looked around frantically and there was nothing for her to fight back with. The only way she could help was if she jumped into the open door and drove away. She hadn’t even made the decision before she was running for the car. One of the men saw her as she was getting in and rushed at her. She chucked the coffee at him and that was just what she needed to get away.

She pressed the lock button and then floored it.

She immediately remembered that she had next to no experience driving. She had managed a few times in France but that was never in high traffic times. Turning onto the street, away from the men chasing the car, the other cars started honking immediately. She needed to get back as soon as possible before she got herself in trouble.

Turning left would get her back, but she couldn’t get into the lane so she kept going straight, hoping she could find an opening soon and figure out how to get back to her new apartment. The other drivers were pulling out behind her and keeping her from getting in her lane; she slowed down to try to get in but the other cars kept honking. Instead, she ended up in a right turn only lane.

There was a cop car sitting there, clearly watching for traffic infractions right as she nearly made a turn onto a one way. She slowed down even more and turned onto the next street. The officer pulled out behind her and followed. The street slowed down and was quiet, except for the trunk that was thumping so loudly she was certain it could be heard from the car behind her. Hopefully there were no windows down. The street curved around a few times and she was careful about staying in the lines, but she had no clue what the typical speed was. Slow was the only speed she was comfortable with so that should keep her from getting pulled over for speeding.

None of the connecting roads led anywhere useful for several minutes. She had ended up in a neighborhood with dead ends and streets that looped around, unconnected to the main streets. After all the twists and turns, she wasn’t even sure which direction she needed to go. There was a light changing up ahead of her so she pushed the pedal down just enough to get her through as it turned yellow. The car behind her had left just enough space that it couldn’t make it without using the flashing lights. She held her breath, hoping that she was in the clear when the flashing behind her was a turn signal. The cop turned right and she released her breath slowly.

Her higher speed made her cringe when she hit a bump hard. She bounced in her seat and heard yelling from the trunk. After the car stopped bouncing, there was renewed pounding. It was right as she was passing a few smaller shops with more pedestrian traffic. People were definitely looking. But she was fairly certain the area was familiar. She and Luka had been here earlier today. She took an unnecessary left turn at the stop sign so she could go around the area where the coffee shop was.

It wasn’t very much further before she came to a familiar street sign and turned. There was very little traffic now which made it easier. She no longer felt the need for the remaining coffee, but she might require a drink. Another left turn followed immediately by a right turn and she pulled up where she could see Luke out on the sidewalk looking around for her. He looked at the car confused when the trunk started screaming and kicking again.

He just didn’t quite look shocked when she parked in a no parking space and got out. He looked resigned.

—

Tim wasn’t sure he knew where he was.

He had definitely been trained to remember the movements of a car and count how far it went, but the person was clearly driving in a way to make that impossible. They slowed down and sped up randomly. It definitely wasn’t moving as a typical get away. He could tell by the honking of the other cars around that they were pissing everyone off.

Now, the car had been stopped and parked but they weren’t ready to open the trunk up yet. He could hear them arguing as they stood nearby but he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He really hoped they wouldn’t realize that he was ready for them, or better yet, walk away and decide to come back for them later.

He stopped kicking in hopes that they would decide to leave him here until it was darker. He had gotten the zip tie off his hands nearly immediately but the trunk latch had taken him some time. The easy latch on the inside had been damaged to prevent him from escaping. He had nearly gotten the latch open when the car made back to back turns and then parked. He had to be sure they were far enough away before he made a break for it.

He heard them moving around in the car and then the clicking of the keys against the trunk. He pulled the zip tie out of the latch so they could unlock it and then light suddenly blinded him. It didn’t matter though. He kicked out at the dark shapes and shoved himself out of the small space.

He fell over trying to get his legs to work, but then pushed himself up when he felt a hand close around his arm. He swung out and hit the smaller shape, luckily it fell into the larger one and he could try to get some distance. He took off running, hoping that he could find a place to call for help. But his legs were hit hard as one of the assailants tackled him. He froze as a car zoomed right past them and he could feel the wind on his skin.

Once it passed, he rolled further away and kicked his feet. His vision was nearly fully back and he could see the man who was holding his legs. He definitely wasn’t one of the ones who had grabbed him originally. The other person ran up and whacked him with something several times on the shoulder. He was still kicking, but he stopped when he recognized the cute lady from the coffee shop. She had smiled back when he smiled at her on his way out. It was part of why the kidnappers got the drop on him.

When he froze, so did they and he could finally hear what she was yelling at him.

“Stop this now. We are trying to help you,” she yelled.

“Having me in the trunk of a car helping me?” he asked, sardonically.

She looked sheepish for a moment before speaking far more confidently, “You were in the trunk, but I didn’t put you there. I just slightly stole the car when I saw you being put in the trunk.”

“You stole it?” he asked, “From the kidnappers?”

“Well, I was already running after you to get your number. I didn’t know what else to do. I guess you could say I unkidnapped you.”

tag list-I haven't used this in ages so let me know if you are done being tagged

@maribatserver |

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf | @vixen-uchiha | @trythisagainlove | @trippingovermyfeet | @tbehartoo | @izanae | @kittenmywaythrulife | @folk-ever-lore | @jayjayspixiepop | @achaoticmess

@adrestar | @zynna | @jeminiikrystal

@technicallyburninggarden | @iloontjeboontje | @certainmuffinbagelcalzone

[farther-north]

I feel so bad for anyone who will ever ask me what my roman empire is because shawty sit down, grab some popcorn, you're gonna have to sit down and listen to me rant for over 2 hours about either The Crane Wives, Desert Duo, or both IN DETAIL with all my theories and headcannons ;;;;;;-;

[trash-gremlin]

could you imagine how good spirit animals would be if it wasn't written as a children's series

[pardonmydelays]

fit check

[cryptidcha0s]

I just saw venom the last dance, and all I have to say is

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[birb-tangleblog]

Gaze upon it... ✨